JA Huss is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty romances. She likes stories about family, loyalty, and extraordinary characters who struggle with basic human emotions while dealing with bigger than life problems. JA loves writing heroes who make you swoon, heroines who makes you jealous, and the perfect Happily Ever After ending.
You can chat with her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AuthorJAHuss), Twitter (@jahuss), and her kick-ass romance blog, New Adult Addiction (www.newadultaddiction.com).
If you're interested in getting your hands on an advanced release copy of her upcoming books, sneak peek teasers, or information on her upcoming personal appearances, you can join her newsletter list (http://eepurl.com/JVhAr) and get those details delivered right to your inbox.
Anarchy Found was one heart-pounding, action filled book that I couldn't get enough of. Who knew Alpha Superheroes could be so hot?!? When you mix that in with JA's unique talent for superb plots, characters, super-sexy scenes and plot twists - you get one helluva story.
I’m not the hero she’s looking for. I’m the dark alley where all her good intentions hide. So be careful what you wish for, Molly Masters. Because you’re about to get it.
With Book One, we get the story of Lincoln and Molly. The history of their relationship was very complicated and full of emotional obstacles. It. Was. Fantastic. I was hooked from the moment they met. True to form for most of JA's leading females, she was full of fire. She still had an innocence about her but she had the strength to handle what was thrown her way along with the secrets she learned from her past. And there are a lot of them!
Lincoln was a hard character to unravel. So many unknowns, so many secrets hidden in the past and present. Getting to the heart of his story was almost bittersweet. Her beginning would mean his end. This was a story I won't be forgetting any time soon.
He’s insane. And I’m dead. He is the killer and he’s gonna get me next.
DESCRIPTION
Everyone needs a hero.
That’s what Detective Molly Masters tells me. “What we need,” she says, “what the whole world needs,” she pleads, “is a champion.”
The only thing I want to talk about with Molly Masters is how I’d like to make her scream my name when I push her up against a wall, slide my hand up her thigh, and live out my wildest fantasies.
“Someone who will fight against injustice,” she says.
I’ll fight against anything you want, honey. Just come a little closer.
“Someone who will stand tall in the face of adversity,” she says.
I’ll do it standing, sitting, or lying down. See how easy I am?
“Someone who believes in the value of a good deed,” she says.
I believe in the value of me, sweetheart. Because I’m Lincoln Wade. Jaded genius, obscenely wealthy, capable of violence, and looking for revenge.
Molly Masters might have delusions of grandeur. She might see me as some superman capable of cleaning up the scum, filth, and corruption in Cathedral City.
But I’m not the hero she’s looking for.
I’m the dark alley where all her good intentions hide.
So be careful what you wish for, Molly Masters.
Because you’re about to get it.
BOOK TRAILER:
LINK: https://youtu.be/ir4-cD3_6bI
GIVEAWAY – (5) $100 Gift Cards and (5) Signed copies of Anarchy Found
“Give in tonight, Molly. And I’ll give in tomorrow.”
“What’s that mean? Why do you have to talk in riddles? Just tell me what the fuck is going on.” My words come out as a hoarse whisper and I look at the ground. And I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t turning me on. This alpha shit. I should hate it. I should rail against it. Slap him again and walk off. Walk straight the fuck out of here with my head up.
But I can’t say that’s how I feel, because I don’t.
“Hold your skirts up and find out.”
I force myself to look up. His eyes are not bright with mischief. They are dark, and cold, and commanding. And his lips aren’t curled up in some playful smile. They are straight, slightly parted. And I can see his tongue doing a little dance inside his mouth, like he’s thinking very hard about something. His hand leaves the wall and he drops the soft fabric of my silk skirts so he can place both leather-clad palms on my cheeks. Gently. And this is the only gentle thing about him right now. Because he scares the fuck out of me.
“Do it,” he says, his mouth finding mine. His lips pressing into an unbreakable kiss. His hands caressing my skin. His body moving forward, his knee taking position between my legs. “Lift those skirts, Molly,” he says, his words tumbling against my tongue. “Let me slip my hand between your legs and play a little. Let’s have a good time tonight and forget that it’s all gonna come crashing down tomorrow.”
“I don’t—”
“Please,” he says. The word is so soft. So filled with longing, and regret, and emotion. It reminds me of that friend of his while we were dancing. His plea makes me want to obey. Against my will, I try to convince myself. But it’s a lie. There is something on the tip of my tongue. Like my brain has been keeping secrets and they’re about to explode out of me. So I reach down, grab a fistful of silk tulle and I give him what he needs.
Permission.
His mouth is suddenly hungry and crushing. His tongue dances inside me. One hand leaves my face and goes to his belt and I hike my skirts up even more, exposing the bare skin of my leg. The brisk air flows upward, making my pussy tingle with anticipation. His belt buckle drops away, and he tugs on his zipper just before he presses his hard cock against my hip.
I push forward, making him groan with the pressure against his hard-on. “Do it, then,” I whisper. “Just do it. Before someone comes.” The voices of other couples in the maze are louder, but there’s no way for me to tell how close they are to finding the center. Or finding me here, doing this with him.
He grabs my skirts, the sudden force enough to make me gasp with surprise, and then he reaches between my legs and pulls my panties aside, just enough to slip a gloved finger inside me. “Open your legs wider, Molly.”
Just hearing his gruff voice say my name sends my mind spinning. Why? Why is he making me feel this way?
But that thought disappears as soon as the pressure inside me turns to pleasure. I obey his last command like I’m that computer thing in his cave. Forced to do his bidding. At his beck and call and under his spell.
Just as that thought crosses my mind, his cock—full, and hard, and throbbing just like my pussy—replaces his finger and I moan. Loudly. “Oh, God.”
“Shhh.” He laughs. And that laugh twists the whole thing around from forbidden and terrifying to reckless and tantalizing.
“I want to fuck you in the open,” he says. “Right here under these spotlights. With all those high-society fucks two hundred feet away, oblivious to what’s coming. All paranoid and pathetic, wondering what we’re going to do next. And if you make noise, Molly, I’ll have to drag your trembling and aching body over into the shadows and that would ruin everything.”
“Oh, God,” I say again.
“You don’t want me to ruin everything, do you?”
I shake my head as I stare up into his eyes. He grips my waist like he never wants to let go. He rocks against me, pressing me so hard up against the cold pedestal, I can feel the roughness of the stones embedded in the concrete.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he says, fisting my hair with one hand until my head jerks up. “And look at me when I fuck you.”
I lift my leg and his other hand is there helping. I wrap myself up against the hard, defined muscles of his stomach and around his hips just as he thrusts inside me.
“Fuck,” he growls, biting my earlobe. “They’re getting closer. Two more right turns and they’re gonna find us. And if you think I’ll stop, you don’t know me very well. So come for me, Molly. Come for me and say my name in my ear as you do it.”
“What—”
“Lincoln,” he whispers. “My name is Lincoln. Say it. I need to hear you say it.”
I have a history of picking the wrong guy. Gay? Player? Momma’s boy? Check, check and check.
Now I can’t stop fantasizing about one of the customers at the coffee shop I work at between classes. It’s just a harmless crush, right? It’s not like I ever see this guy outside of the coffee shop. It’s not like I’m going to see him while attempting to get birth control at the student clinic. While wearing a paper gown. While sitting on an exam table. Because he’s the doctor.Shoot. Me.
But what if, for once, the man I’ve had the dirtiest, most scandalous fantasies about turned out to be everything but wrong?
Wrong is a full-length, standalone novel by Jana Aston
Jana Aston works a really boring day job. Really. Boring. In her spare time she loves to read sexy romance novels, especially if they involve an alpha CEO. Wrong is her first novel.
If this is Wrong....to hell with being right! Sooooo wrong but sooooo good. I loved this book. Hilarious, steamy and the plot was definitely unique. Jana absolutely nailed it on this debut novel. Her characters were strong, identifiable and well constructed. You could place yourself in Sophie's shoes, feel her feels. I had tears...of laughter...the thoughts running through her head and sometimes out of her mouth had me crying from laughing so hard. There are so many debut books I've read where the author misses the mark in plot development, character development and rushed steamy scenes but not this one. I fully engaged on all aspects and enjoyed every minute of it. Sophie was adorable and funny as hell. Everly was the feisty best friend that keeps you on your toes. Luke was the smart, dirty alpha we all dream about. The heat between Sophie and Luke was off the charts hot. I can't get enough of Jana's writing. I'm hooked and eagerly await more.
Excerpt #1
Luke flexes his jaw and rubs the back of his neck. It occurs to me now how stupid my fantasy crush was. This is the longest amount of time I've spent with him, and the only time without a counter separating us. Still, I can't help being attracted to him. I know it's wrong. Fucked up. Delusional. I'm already wondering if my future career will pay enough to cover the therapy I obviously need.
Marie is back and places something wrapped in heavy-duty plastic on the tray. The object makes a thud as she sets it down before taking up her seat beside the door again, sticking her face into an old copy of Good Housekeeping.
"Lie back on the table, Sophie." Luke's face is unreadable as he walks over to the exam table. He wraps a hand around my wrist and raises it over my head, his eyes passing over my face briefly before he sets my hand on the table.
His fingers move to the gown covering me. Do not be turned on, do not be turned on, do not be turned on, I chant to myself. I snap my gaze away and focus on the ceiling.
There's a motivational poster on the ceiling right above the exam table. I burst out laughing just as I feel Luke's hands on my breast.
"Sorry, are my hands cold?"
"No, your hands are perfect," I blurt out without thinking. I think I detect a slight smirk on his face before I revert my gaze to the poster on the ceiling.
"The poster." I gesture upward with my free hand. It strikes me funny that there's a motivational poster on the ceiling. Like that's gonna take my mind off where I'm at. Or is it meant to motivate me to stay on this table? I giggle again. Luke tilts his head and looks at the ceiling.
Shit, are my nipples hard? That's normal, right? He's not doing anything erotic, but his hands are on my breasts. Yeah, my nipples are hard. His fingers are flat against the sides of my breasts now. He's rotating them around in what feels like a spiral pattern before lightly pinching my nipple. I have to stop myself from moaning a little. His hands feel good. I'm sure they're not supposed to, but they do.
