Gravedigger, Dirty Boys Do It Better, Book 1 by JC Jaye is LIVE!
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Filthy doesn’t even begin to cut it…
Ex-soldier Clint ‘Gravedigger’ MacGregor is cool among the tombstones. Tilling the earth by hand, he’s King of Oaklawn and likes it that way. No annoying folks in his face, and plenty of solitude to muffle the PTSD noise upstairs. But once he spies a sexy, tousle-haired angel kneeling in the grass every Saturday, it’s time to rejoin the land of the living, stat. Here’s hoping his Sunshine doesn’t mind a little mud…
She’s been lost, but now she’s found.
The death of her twin has gutted Casey Rae Kent. Turning hermit, weekly plein-air grieving sessions are the sum of her social life. But a thwarted attack and subsequent rescue by a hot Viking lookalike have her shaking off the stupor. Is this spade-wielding hero a gift from the heavens? Can Mr. Badass and Brawny be her sweet salvation? Hmm, best get this dirty boy’s take on clueless virgin unicorns…
Two troubled souls, zapped by the lightning bolt to the heart. All’s fantastic until fate lobs more mega-grade grenades in their path.
Hell, who said love was easy?
**Adult content and language.
“God, baby. So fucking beautiful, you are…”
I slurred out half-formed fragments of garbled praise, the words thick and impeded as I stroked a single digit sideways. Flicking it against that drenched mound, I groaned, my eyes shooting from Sunshine’s dripping cunt to her lovely, flushed face.
Her eyelids drooped, lashes fluttering as my forefinger explored further.
Ah, Jesus. Her slit was sweetly pulsing, silky cream soaking my skin. Abundant juices slicking my knuckle, I felt sure my head was going to fly off my shoulders. And that the other head south of my belt was gonna blow like a geyser real fucking soon, with or without the lady’s assistance.
“So wet, baby. Goddamn, so crazy wet for me.”
Chocolatey eyes glittered through those heavy lashes as Sunshine bit her lip, nodding and gasping.
“Yes. Oh, yes, do that some more…”
Breathing hard, I added a second finger, gauging how snug she was, how tantalizingly tiny. My teeth gouged a hole in my own lower lip as my prick battered against denim, bigger and hungrier than it had ever been in its thirty-three-year-old existence.
Way way hungrier, no question. Making zero allowances for Sunshine’s dainty size, trying to punch its way through tough cloth to get to where it needed to be. It jerked again, swelling like a zeppelin, a rude and unruly beast.
Yeah. Where it needed to be:
Right. The. Fuck. Now.
MEET THE AUTHOR:
It was all Rhett and Scarlett’s fault.
(Talkin’ the grand staircase scene, people.)
Stung by the literary lovebug at a tender young age, JC has been devouring spicy romantic fiction ever since. Seriously… What could possibly be more delectable at the end of a rough day than a big, bad, moody male brought to his alphahole knees by a gorgeous, kick-ass, rock star of a heroine?
Well, besides a hefty goblet of vino and some imported Brie.
Dreaming up “I wish” fantasies while slogging through the woefully Rhett-scarce world, JC invites readers to indulge in decadent escape through her foulmouthed and passion-saturated tales.
You heard foulmouthed, right?