Cover Reveal: Running Hot, Hell Ryders MC #2
Finally, it's reveal time! I'm stoked to unveil this beauty, the cover of Running Hot, Hell Ryders #2. A shout out to Diana Carlile at the Wild Rose Press who created it.
Running Hot is second installment of the Hell Ryders MC Series, but it is a standalone novel. It will be released June 23rd in print and digital formats. You can preorder from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and the Wild Rose Press now. (Running Hot will be available on IBooks and Google Books too, but preorder is not yet available.)
I'll leave you to enjoy the cover, blurb, and an excerpt.
Thomas “Cuss” Layne has never wanted for anything, except the beautiful girl he saved so long ago. But she’s a rich girl, and he’s a biker. For years, he hasn’t had a glimpse of her. Still, he's never been able to get her out of his mind. When her life’s in danger, he rides to her rescue once again. This time, he’s determined to do what he should’ve done long ago—make her his, in every possible way.
Tiffany Hamilton has never gotten over the bad boy with the sapphire eyes and midnight hair, the boy who once saved her. She wants him--a touch, a taste--but he’s never wanted anything to do with her. It’s past time to move on. When the sexy biker barges back into her life, saving her yet again and making demands, he makes it impossible to say no to his raw magnetism. She’ll finally have everything she’s dreamed of…but will it be enough?
Movie wasn’t halfway done, and his girl had already passed out. Head on his shoulder, legs on the couch to her other side.
Smiling, he took a breath. Her head on his shoulder slipped lower. He wrapped an arm around her, turning toward her slightly until her head lay on his chest. Either he’d gotten good at doing that or she was a heavy sleeper. Probably the latter, not once when he carried her to bed had she woken.
She let out a small sigh and burrowed into him.
He loved that. She did it a lot, and every time she did it, it made him feel like he had the world in the palm of his hands. Maybe not his hands, but he definitely had the world sleeping against his chest.
His gaze slid from her face to her hair. He threaded his fingers through it. So soft. So thick. He spared a glance at the television and realized he missed an important plot point. Now, he was lost. Nothing new. He never paid much attention to the movie once she dozed off. He just sat there and watched her sleep. Often, he ran his hand through her hair like he was then. Every once in a while, he looked to the screen. And when he did, he remembered the movie would be over soon, and then, he’d have to force himself to stop staring at her, carry her to bed, and head home.
Worse part of the night, heading home.
He hated it, hated leaving her.
And still, it had to be done.
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