Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Exodus (Centrifuge Duet #2) by Kylie Hillman

Coming April 11th

Xander Barrett had it all.
Until it was stolen by the devil.
His life. His lover. His freedom.

A chance encounter secures his release.
But, it comes at a cost--a debt he must settle before he's allowed to take his revenge.

Luckily, it's a price he's willing to pay.

Stripping a man of everything but his pride isn't smart. It creates a monster that's bigger and meaner than the original. Satan has spawned his match, and he's ready to cause an exodus.

DISCLAIMER: This story contains triggering content and is not suitable for all readers, especially those under eighteen years of age.

This story is the second installment in the Centrifuge Duet, and while it can be read as a standalone, reading Amnesia, Centrifuge Duet #1 first is recommended.


I always thought everyone had a conscience. That even the worst type of people had one—they were just adept at ignoring it. However, the past eighteen months have forced me to reassess this.
Why? Because I no longer have a nagging voice in my head or the hollow feeling in my gut when I do something wrong. The two things that I associated with my conscience are gone. Poof. Like a puff of smoke, they up and left me sometime between the first time I was arrested and last night, when I watched a man I didn’t know—a man who’d never done a thing to me—bleed out over his desk after I’d slit his throat.
Nowadays, I don’t believe that many of us possess a conscience. There’s too many people willing to throw their own granny under the bus for a dollar for me to hang on to the idealistic view of the human race that I held for the first thirty-two years of my life. In this current incarnation of the world we inhabit, a conscience is no longer an asset.
It’s a liability.

Chapter 1

Ever wanted to see the love of your life getting fucked six ways to Sunday by the asshole she chose over you?
Nah, me neither.
Unfortunately, I don’t get a say in the matter. Not when each afternoon at precisely three o’clock, I’m hauled out of my cell, dragged down the long, white hallway, and handcuffed to the table in one of the private visitation rooms provided by the prison. The flat-screen TV mounted in the corner of the room is turned on and I get a ringside view of my ex-fiancĂ©e getting reamed by her new husband.
I say “reamed”, not because I’m being a prick. I say it because that’s exactly what it is. He drives his cock into her like he’s trying to brand her from the inside. Hard. Fast. And, furious. He’s always furious. There’s a deep rage burning in the gaze that Dr. Jaxon Ray always manages to send straight down the barrel of the camera. If I was prone to flights of fancy—which I’m not—I’d say that he does it deliberately in some sick determination to let me know that he knows how I feel watching them.
Every thrust is a clear message, anyway.
I won. You lost.
She’s mine.
Keys rattle in the door of my cell. They herald the start of another free porn show. Bile rises in my throat, the sickening churning in my gut commencing like clockwork at the thought of what’s to come.
Here we go again. Another epic fucking day in this freakshow that is currently my life.
“Barrett.” A cursory glance in the direction of the man who speaks tells me that the guard is not one I’ve met before.
I ignore him and remain lying on my back on the lumpy mattress, one arm behind my head in an attempt at nonchalant posture while the other is hidden by my side with my fingers curled into a fist ready for whatever this change in guard’s may bring. The flaky grey ceiling above me has two distinct dark shadows on it. One is mine, unmoving and unwilling. The second is the guard. I track the latter black blob moving toward me, the handcuffs he holds jingling ominously with each step he takes.
“Move your ass, Barrett.”
“Fuck you.” My response earns me a boot to the side. I hear the second guard enter my cell, his chuckle of enjoyment giving away his identity. It’s the usual prick who escorts me. The one who likes to wait with me and narrate the carnal joining as it unfolds on the screen. My nostrils flare when pain blooms from the connection of the first guards foot with my ribs. I roll into a ball. My mouth shut—lips sealed through sheer willpower. I’ll swallow my tongue before I give them a reaction.
“I’m not kidding.” The threat precedes a follow-up kick that has me rolling away until my knees hit the wall at the far side of the bed. “Your visitor doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I’d move my ass if I was you. This might be your only chance to get out of here.”
The pain in my body leaves immediately. I struggle to sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed once I’m facing them. Apprehension pumps through my veins when I meet their smug gazes.
“Visitor?” The raspy quality to my voice is less than optimal. Clearing my throat, I try again, this time with some authority in my tone. “What visitor? I don’t have anyone approved.”
The closest guard—Mr. Chatty Porn Lover—answers first. “No shit, Sherlock. Who said anything about her being approved?”
His companion shrugs, then holds the cuffs out to me. “She might not be approved, but I think you’ll want to see her.”
My heart lurches in my chest, skipping a beat before it settles into a frenetic pace that has me sweating like a fat kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet. There’s one question running around my head at a million miles an hour.
Amber’s here?
A glance in the direction of the guards tells me that I won’t get any further answers out of them. I swallow my growing curiosity and the overwhelming desire to knock out the two pricks who separate me from the woman who owns every functioning cell in my body. I know acting on my urgency will only slow the damn process so I force myself to cooperate.
Standing, I hold out my arms with the wrists parallel. He snaps the handcuffs on and then follows the chain that connects them until he’s squatting at my feet. Sharp, efficient movements have the other set of larger steel cuffs locked around my ankles in seconds. Once I’m secured, the guard yanks on the chain that joins my bound hands and feet in a silent command to follow him. I shuffle along, one guard in front of me and one behind, intently watching me like I’m the convicted murderer I’m purported to be.
When we pass the visitor's room that I’m usually led into, I almost let my curiosity get the better of me and ask where the hell we’re going. Thankfully, answers are provided before I give them the opportunity to shoot me down with sick glee.
The door that leads into the room next to the one I normally occupy is opened by the guard who’s leading me. I stand as tall as I can, shoulders back and head held high, determined to resemble my old self as much as I can when I come face to face with Amber for the first time in almost two years.
It takes a ridiculous amount of resolve to stop the shaking that threatens to take hold of my body as I lift my head to greet my woman. Our eyes meet. I blink furiously, unable to believe what I’m seeing. Playing it cool is no longer an option. Not with the guard behind me blocking any opportunity for escape. Instead, I let my mouth fall open and verbalise the question that’s beating a thunderous cacophony of confusion around my skull.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Such rudeness is unbecoming from a man in your position.” The woman seated at the table in the middle of the room sniffs, her annoyance with my lack of manners clear. She smooths her skirt over her thighs before settling a satisfied gaze on me. “Considering I’m your new boss and your passport out of this establishment.”

Wife to a Harley riding, boating and fishing, four-wheel driving, quintessential Aussie bloke.
Mum to two crazy, adorable, and creative kids.
Crohn's Disease sufferer and awareness campaigner.
She’s also an avid tea drinker, a connoisseur of 80's/90's rock music, and is known for lacing everything she says with sarcasm and inappropriate innuendo.

Formerly working in finance, she was forced to reevaluate her plans for her life when severe Crohn's Disease brought her corporate career to a screeching halt. Restarting her childhood hobbies of writing and reading to alleviate the monotony of being sick and housebound, she found her calling and is enjoying life to the max. A typical day is spent in the "real" world where she hangs out with her awesome family and "book" world where she gets to chill with her fictional characters.

Kylie writes the books she wants to read. A lover of strong men who aren't perfect and aren't afraid to admit it, straight talking women who embrace their vulnerabilities, and real life gritty stories, she hopes these themes shine through her writing. An avid reader of all genres, Kylie hopes to release books that keep the reader on the edge of their seat- be it with suspense, heart-stopping thrills, or laughter.

Author Links

A Hero to Love by Gail Chianese

by Gail Chianese
Genre: Contemporary Romance

Pub Date: 8/22/2017

A military police officer on the verge of a new beginning. A beautiful woman devoted to her career and her dream of putting down roots. The hardest thing they’ll ever do is to take a chance on love . . .
Navy Chief Master at Arms Jackson “Jax” Faraday is at a crossroads. He has to decide whether to reenlist or get out while he’s young enough to make a difference in the civilian world. Either choice could mean leaving behind his girl: his K-9 partner, Bella. But when she’s injured during a training session, Jax’s only concern is making sure she’s okay.
As the Navy base veterinarian, town local Risa Reynolds is right where she belongs: close to her parents in a farmhouse full of animals—with room to grow. She’s seen enough to put military men are on her “not happening” list, because they always leave.
But when a tall, hazel-eyed sailor arrives in her clinic with his dog in his arms, Risa finds herself falling hard. And all kinds of rules will get broken when Jax, a man who sticks to the straight and narrow, learns that there’s no predicting the twists and turns of the heart . . .

Gail Chianese's love of reading began at the tender age of three, when she'd make her grandpa read Fourteen Country Rabbits over and over and over again (and correct him when he skipped parts). While she's branched out over the years by reading mystery, women’s fiction, and urban fantasy, she always circles back to romance in the end. That's probably because she's married to her real life hero. Her wonderful hubby has served in the US Navy for the past twenty two years and he’s done things he can’t tell her about. But it doesn’t stop her from being extremely proud of him and the sacrifices he makes for her, his family, and his country. He’s also uber-supportive of her dreams and of their three children. Living in Mystic, CT and a member of Connecticut Romance Writers of America, Gail loves to hear from readers. Visit her online at, follow her on Twitter @Gail_Chianese, or send her an e mail at


Purchase TODAY


‘We love Aussies,’ they said, ‘the readers will eat you up’.

Those seven little words got me on a plane to the USA for the ‘Raunchy with a touch of sexiness – Valentine’s Day Author Event’ in Miami.

I’m a romance author. A girl with a vivid imagination, and an overactive sex drive. 

Oh, and yes I’m Australian

When I agreed the so-called love of my life had just walked out on me, leaving me with two little girls. All I wanted was a little fun and some no strings attached fun while I was there. 

It would be my very own ‘what happens in Miami, stays in Miami’.

Unless I fall in love with an American....

There’s no such thing as a happily ever after in real life.

Add to your TBR:

About Stacey Johnston

Stacey Johnston was raised in Perth, Western Australia. She is a wife and mum to four children.

Having been an avid reader most of her life, Stacey finds herself most at ease when she can lose herself in stories of romance and mystery.

Stacey has a creative way of bringing suspense into her stories which keeps her reader hanging onto every word to find out how it ends.

Follow Stacey Johnston

Affliction by Jenika Snow

It wasn’t until Cameron that I knew what real darkness was…or that I’d crave it so much.

I’ve let the world weigh down on me; pull me under until nothing makes sense anymore. Maybe that’s how I let myself get into the mess I’m currently in? Maybe that’s how I’m in my current situation with a man I knew could save me from a fate worse than death. Even if being with Cameron, giving him the very part of me, the only part that’s worth anything—my body—might very well ruin me, I have to survive.

Drug lord. Crime Boss. Murderer. I should fear him, be horrified by what he wants from me, by who he is. But instead, I find myself wanting to please him, wanting to give myself over completely.

Because I know that gives me control over him.

Cameron Ashton reins over the gritty underworld, the danger and violence of depravity, from his throne. A pistol is his sword, and apathy is his second-in-command. I know he’s dangerous, know he’ll break me and not think twice. But he’s my only chance, the only way I’ll survive.

        He’s possessive and controlling. And he does own me, every part of me. The darkness in him runs stronger, deeper than it ever had in me. Maybe we’re not so different? Maybe giving up my control to Cameron, giving him my very soul, makes me the powerful one?

Maybe, in the end, I’ll be the one who owns him.

Warning: This is a filthy, dark romance. There may be subject matter and triggers that are sensitive to some readers. In the end, this IS a romance, albeit a twisted one. If you’re looking for a story that gives you the warm and fuzzies, this is not the book for you.

“You want to be free of this pain, of this nightmare?”

Still I couldn’t speak. I glanced at Ricky. He watched me, one eye swollen shut, blood covering his face. He didn’t seem strong now. He knew his number had been pulled and he’d be dead before the night was over. I knew that, too. I also didn’t give a shit. He deserved this. Ricky knew who and what he was up against, and he knew this was the end of the road for him.

Maybe that makes me a monster, too, because I don’t care. I want him to suffer, to be afraid.

“Sofia,” Cameron said my name softly, urging me in that deep, commanding voice of his.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice empty, just like my soul. I turned and faced the man who’d ridden in like the very devil himself. But then again, wasn’t I the match to this gasoline-saturated scene?

“Say it. Ask me for it.” Cameron’s voice was eerily strong, collected.

I looked at Ricky again, a man who would have done horrible things to me, trying to push my humanity down.

“Ask me to take your problem away.” Cameron’s voice was low, a little seductive. I glanced at him again, feeling like I was lost at sea.

Cameron was powerful and wanted to exert that, wanted me to be on my knees as he showed me what he could do—figuratively and literally—what he could solve. I was at his mercy, the same as Ricky. And a part of me knew that once I said the words, everything would change. I told Cameron what I wanted, that I wanted Ricky gone, dead, the life I once knew, albeit shitty, would become something else.

I’d be the epitome of darkness, embracing it because I’d taken a life in my hands and extinguished it.

“I want my problem to go away.” The words that came from me were cold, detached…just like my soul in that exact moment. I saw the way Cameron’s lip lifted, this sardonic, sadistic smirk coming into play. He would have killed Ricky without my prompt, without me begging. But here, now, making me ask, that was him showing me the control he had over me.

It was the promise of what he’d show me once we were alone and I had to pay my dues.

“Say it,” Cameron said again, harder this time.

I swallowed, squeezed my hands into fists, and said the words that would change the very person I thought I was. “I want him dead.”

It happened in slow motion, the world rewinding, the air being sucked out of the room. Cameron lifted his hand, his hold steady on the gun, his body seeming corded, tighter. Ricky begged, pleaded. He cried and shook uncontrollably. It didn’t matter, because his fate had already been sealed.

He knew what it felt like for me, how his life was now in someone else’s hands. Good.

And then the sound of the gun going off filled me, surrounded me. It was an echoing in my head, rocking me to my core, shaking everything inside of me. Warmth seeped over me, seemed to seep into me.

Blood. Hot, viscous, life-sustaining fluid covered my face and chest. I was frozen in place, my body numb, the feeling of that liquid dripping from my chin, from the very ends of my hair and onto the floor, stunned as much as it disgusted and pleased me.   

Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.

Author Links