Ronnie McGuire is my target.
But I wish he wasn't.
I didn't sign up for this destruction, this pain.
In his music, I hear his soul crying out for me.
If I could, I'd run away from here and never look back because to tell you the truth, I'm terrified. There are forces weighing in on me that even I don't understand. I'm scared. Things are dangerous. This could get real ugly, real fast.
& & &
Lola Saints is a godsend.
But I wish she wasn't.
I don't know sh*t about her, but already, I'm hooked.
When she plays, I can almost imagine the ghosts of the dead are calling out to me.
If I could, I'd shed my soul and leave the pain of the past behind me. But I can't. I have to figure out if there's a way to fall in love anew and respect the old. But something else is going on, something weird. Something that tells me my tough luck might just run out real fast.
EXCERPT (Lola Saints):
“You look like you're about to pass out. Take a breather, will ya?” I tell him, wishing he'd give me some sign of life in those dead eyes. They're dark and swimming with negativity. I can tell he's not living in the here and now. He's somewhere else altogether. My job is supposed to be to keep him there, force him down into the depths of pain and let him impale himself on his own tragedy. Instead, I get the urge to pull him back.
Before I can stop myself, I'm spinning around in front of him and bumping the toes of my shoes against his, clutching his shirt in two grasping hands and pressing our mouths together. I'm not shy with my tongue, forcing it between his lips and tasting all of that melancholy and anguish. At first it's like kissing a fireplace hearth, all old ash and extinguished flames, but just as I'm about to pull away, I see a spark. It's small at first, burning deep within him, taking over his lips and scorching me with brilliant heat.
Ronnie's hands come up and find my ass. He doesn't start off with small talk either. He goes straight for the gold, grabbing and caressing my flesh with greedy hands. Careful, Lola, or you might get burned. I push up against him, struggling to stay on my tiptoes so our faces can stay somewhat even. I kind of want to climb his ass like Godzilla on top of the Empire State Building, just get all up in there and find my perch. Ronnie responds to my scrambling by lifting me up by the cheeks and slamming my back into the metal pole of a street sign.
“Oi, watch yourself, fuck face,” I growl out, but the small ache in my spine is nothing compared to the raging burn that's coming up from below. What the hell are you playing at, bitch? This is not what you're supposed to be doing. I hear my logical self screaming at me from the back of my mind, but I don't pay it any never mind. What I am supposed to do anyway? A forest fire's just caught in a dry bush. I could put it out, but it'd take a lot of effort. It's easier just to let it burn.(Lola Saints):
“You look like you're about to pass out. Take a breather, will ya?” I tell him, wishing he'd give me some sign of life in those dead eyes. They're dark and swimming with negativity. I can tell he's not living in the here and now. He's somewhere else altogether. My job is supposed to be to keep him there, force him down into the depths of pain and let him impale himself on his own tragedy. Instead, I get the urge to pull him back.
Before I can stop myself, I'm spinning around in front of him and bumping the toes of my shoes against his, clutching his shirt in two grasping hands and pressing our mouths together. I'm not shy with my tongue, forcing it between his lips and tasting all of that melancholy and anguish. At first it's like kissing a fireplace hearth, all old ash and extinguished flames, but just as I'm about to pull away, I see a spark. It's small at first, burning deep within him, taking over his lips and scorching me with brilliant heat.
Ronnie's hands come up and find my ass. He doesn't start off with small talk either. He goes straight for the gold, grabbing and caressing my flesh with greedy hands. Careful, Lola, or you might get burned. I push up against him, struggling to stay on my tiptoes so our faces can stay somewhat even. I kind of want to climb his ass like Godzilla on top of the Empire State Building, just get all up in there and find my perch. Ronnie responds to my scrambling by lifting me up by the cheeks and slamming my back into the metal pole of a street sign.
“Oi, watch yourself, fuck face,” I growl out, but the small ache in my spine is nothing compared to the raging burn that's coming up from below. What the hell are you playing at, bitch? This is not what you're supposed to be doing. I hear my logical self screaming at me from the back of my mind, but I don't pay it any never mind. What I am supposed to do anyway? A forest fire's just caught in a dry bush. I could put it out, but it'd take a lot of effort. It's easier just to let it burn.
About the Author -
C.M. Stunich was raised under a cover of fog in the area known simply as Eureka, CA. A mysterious place, this strange, arboreal land nursed Caitlin's (yes, that's her name!) desire to write strange fiction novels about wicked monsters, magical trains, and Nemean Lions (Google it!). She currently enjoys drag queens, having too many cats, and tribal bellydance.
Always a fan of the indie scene and 'sticking it to the man,' Ms. Stunich decided to take the road less traveled and forgo the traditional publishing route. You can be assured though that she received several rejections as to ensure her proper place in the world of writers before taking up a friend's offer to start a publishing company. Sarian Royal was born, and Ms. Stunich's books slowly transformed from mere baking chocolate to full blown tortes with hand sculpted fondant flowers.
C.M. is a writer obsessed with delivering the very best and scours her mind on a regular basis to select the most unusual stories for the outside world.
Ms. Stunich can be reached via e-mail or by post and loves to hear from her readers. Ms. Stunich also wrote this biography and has no idea why she decided to refer to herself in the third person.
***********
This one wasn't as Dirty to be as the last 2 books or maybe I'm just use to is by now lol.
The threat just get's worse and I was on edge the whole book not know what was going to happen, who might get hurt or worse die. Ronnie & Lola are amazing together- Dirty, Raw & a bit nasty (not as nasty as Naomi & Turner). I love seeing these characters go from dirty strung out Rockers to sober Rock Gods (mostly sober)! Not to mention watching them find love- not your traditional mushy love but love nonetheless. Cliff hanger ending (of course).
"Bad Day" comes out 12/1/13 so we won't have to wait to long & it's the last book in the series.
Quotes:
"Me and Lady Blue Balls are hanging out today. She makes me piss poor company."
"Ronnie lifts his hand and pushes my jacket down my other arm, pressing a kiss to my shoulder that make my knees go weak and my downstairs start strokin' a furnace. Load on the firewood , baby."
