Series: The Devil’s Den, Book 1
Author: Violetta Rand
Genre: New Adult, Contemporary Romance
Published: January 27th, 2015
Welcome to the Devil’s Den, a Texas strip club where the air is heavy with desire—and sometimes dreams come true.
Ever since her mother kicked her out, twenty-year-old Robyn Gonzalez has been working the poles at the Devil’s Den, saving up to finish college and travel the world. With only her wits and her gorgeous body to rely on, Robyn has learned to be independent—fiercely independent. She’s never been tempted to let a man distract her from her dreams . . . until she meets the dead-sexy Garrick Dempsey.
The club’s new head of security, Garrick had walked away from a career as a mechanical engineer to return to his roots in Corpus Christi. He hadn’t planned on getting to know someone like Robyn, with her sinfully sweet combination of vulnerability and strength, at the Devil’s Den. She acts tough, but only because she’s been hurt. Soon Garrick knows he will do anything to win Robyn’s trust. And if that means surrendering to the red-hot chemistry between them, all the better.
Words: 240 Pgs | Heat Level: Hot | Pre-Order: Amazon
A loud banging noise from somewhere near the manager’s office startles me. I stand up. I can’t see very well. Only three lampposts are working near the end of the pier. None of the ones closest to me are on. I grab my backpack, stuff the towel inside, zip it up, and walk hurriedly toward the office. I grab my cell phone from my pocket and keep it at the ready. I see movement as I get closer to the office. The door slams shut. I freeze, listening.
“Where’s the goddamned money, Franco?”
I don’t have it,” I hear the manager answer.
Nothing about this situation feels right. I have strong fight-or-flight instincts. And that voice inside is telling me to run. Now.
“Ten thousand dollars just went poof?” the angry stranger asks.
“No,” Franco answers. “I spent it on my family.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Honesty isn’t always the best policy if your ass is on the line. I know this situation—I’ve overheard similar conversations between men in the club. No wonder Franco stays late. He’s dealing drugs after hours. I know it.
There’s a pause in the conversation. I slip forward a few feet. Maybe I should walk on by. Casually. Yeah, that won’t work.
“Put your hand on the desk,” the stranger commands.
“No . . .” Franco refuses feebly. “I won’t let you hurt me.”
That elicits an evil laugh. I shudder. I’m getting nervous for Franco. He’s always been nice to me. Don’t get involved, I tell myself. I have enough to deal with.
“Put your hand on the fucking desk.”
The exchange is more heated now, more desperate.
This is the best time to make my exit. I’m a great sprinter; I went all-state in high school. I sling my backpack across my left shoulder and grip my phone tightly in my right hand. Go! I run past the office, clearing the end of the pier, and hit sand before I hear someone in hot pursuit. Sand turns to gravelly asphalt and I slip on my sandals. Damn it. I’ll lose precious seconds if I look over my shoulder. How many races did I blow as a freshman looking back? I won’t make that mistake again. I kick off my sandals and run. Harder and faster.
The sound of boots pounding asphalt is all the inspiration I need to keep moving. He’s gaining on me. I run past my car and hit sand again. Over the first sand dune I see lights in the near distance. I’m heaving for breath and sweating like a pig. Fishermen frequent the beach this time of night. I keep running, hoping someone will be there.
“Get back here, bitch . . .”
Please. Please. Please. I almost collide with the back bumper of a Chevy Silverado. I drop to my knees and look up. There’s a dark figure coming around the side of the vehicle. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t see straight. My blood is pumping, my mind racing.
“What’s going on?” I hear a man ask.
“It’s none of your business.” The same asshole that ordered Franco to put his hand on the desk is pissed off at me now. I still don’t know what he looks like, and really don’t want to. I grimace.
About the Author
Raised in Corpus Christi, Texas, Violetta Rand spent her childhood reading, writing, and playing soccer. After meeting her husband in New England, they moved to Alaska where she studied environmental science and policy as an undergraduate before attending graduate school. Violetta then spent nearly a decade working as an environmental scientist, specializing in soil and water contamination and environmental assessments.Violetta still lives in Anchorage, Alaska and spends her days writing evocative New Adult romance and historical romance. When she’s not reading, writing, or editing, she enjoys time with her husband, pets, and friends. In her free time, she loves to hike, fish, and ride motorcycles and 4-wheelers.
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