Merry Christmas + #LowRenzo Update

Dec 23

I have been MIA for a long while. Longer on here than on social media, but still gone for a minute. I needed to remove myself in order to breathe, and deal, and work.

Today, I finished the first draft of Kiss Your Scars. The first draft is the hardest part, for me. The second draft is by no means easy…just easier. So I figured I’d pop on here to tell you…

The first three books in the Loose Ends series–Hidden Scars, Scars and Secrets, Scars and Ruin–will be on sale for 99c (yes, still FREE in KU) over the Christmas holiday, starting Christmas Eve. Staniel (Call the Coroner) will go on sale Jan 1-5.



And you should expect #LowRenzo sometime in February.

Keep reading for a teaser.


Cover by Jay Aheer Photo by Strangeland Photography

Cover by Jay Aheer
Photo by Strangeland Photography


Kiss Your Scars (Loose Ends 3)

-Final book in the series

-Grenadian MC (Low)

-Daddy Kink

-Role Switching

-Age Gap


-Piano Sex

-West Indian Food

-Syren Rua

-Daddy Kink (figured it was worth a second mention)



Teaser Excerpt*


Low walked over to the bar and climbed onto one of the stools while Renzo stood back with a small, indulgent smile on his lips. Leaning back on his elbows, Low eyed Renzo. He wore a suit, of course. This one charcoal gray, with a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat and no tie. “The only time I’ve seen you disheveled was when you got shot.” He cocked his head and motioned to Renzo’s clothing. “Those suits all you wear?”

“I’m kinda partial to my birthday suit.” The smirk on Renzo’s face got wider until Low found himself smiling along.

Damn. He couldn’t stop staring. The level of wanting he had for Renzo was…scary. Exhilarating too. But so damn scary. Toes at the edge of the cliff as he gazed down in search of bottom.

All he found was nothing.

And all he wanted to do was jump.

“Low.” Mere feet away, Renzo watched him, gaze shooting familiar flames that ate at Low, burning any lingering resistance to ash.

He’d never expect a man like Renzo to wait, but he did.

“You should fuck with me,” Renzo said hoarsely. When Low lifted an eyebrow, he went on, “You told me once you can’t fuck with me. But you should. You should fuck with me.”

If he wasn’t strung as tight as he was, Low would smile at that. As things stood now, he was afraid if he moved a muscle, he’d break. “Come.”

Renzo followed his instructions, standing in front of him with control straining at his features and hunger darkening his gray eyes. Low hopped off the stool, bringing them chest to chest with no touching.

Everything he wanted, he was going take. Everything Renzo offered, he was going to accept. For tonight. Maybe for longer. He just wanted to always feel the way he felt in this moment, staring into Renzo’s eyes.

“You scare me,” he whispered. Renzo’s lips parted, but Low stilled any words he’d speak with a shake of his head. “I like it.”

Renzo’s nostrils flared as his lashes lowered.

Low could tell him all the ways in which Renzo made him hunger and thirst, but he chose to voice something that would say it all. One word.


Renzo jolted, eyes flying wide. His mouth opened. Closed. He staggered back a step before crashing to his knees in front of Low, burying his face in Low’s belly. Low tunneled his fingers through Renzo’s hair, cupping his nape and dragging his head backward.

Renzo stared up at him, expression holding nothing back. “Low.”

“I’m about to do way more than fuck with you, Daddy.”


There was a burning under Renzo’s skin and a roaring in his ears. He heard nothing after “Daddy”. Nothing.

Oh, but he understood the look in Low’s eyes. He understood the tight grasp Low had on his nape. For some reason he was on his knees, taken down by this man whose touch only brought fire. An arsonist who held Renzo immobile simply with a gaze.


Maybe. But Renzo luxuriated in it. He’d thought with Low he’d have to be Renzo Vega, man in charge, all the time. But turns out he could also be Renzo Vega, man in desperate need of touch, of light, of this.

Knees to the floor.

Scorching touch leaving his nape to catch his chin, tilting his face upward. He watched Low through lashes that didn’t seem to want to lift higher than half-mast. The languid flames made it hard to focus, melting him and slowing his movements.

He sank his fingers into Low’s hip. Always. He needed Low within his reach always.

“You promised to bust it down, Daddy.” Low’s voice was a rock slide along Renzo’s spine, and he found himself writhing on his knees, especially when Low’s thumb stroked his bottom lip.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

He trembled.

Then the thumb pushed into his mouth.

Renzo sucked.

Low used his free hand to slide his zipper down.

Jesus. Fucking—

He moaned.

“And I’m just here—” Low continued speaking as if he wasn’t throat-fucking Renzo with his thumb. As if he wasn’t holding his hard cock in his grip—fat, cut, pre-cum beading at the tip. “Wondering if you swallow.”

For him? For this man who’d put him on his knees? “Every drop.” And he’d never been thirstier.




*Unedited. Content subject to change.

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