Synopsis
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: girl meets player, they fall in love, player changes his ways.
It’s a good story. But it’s not our story. Ours is a lot more colorful.
When I met Dee I knew right away that she was special. When she met me, she thought I was anything but special—I was exactly like every other guy who’d screwed her over and let her down. It took some time to convince her otherwise, but turns out I can make a convincing argument when sex is at stake.
You might know where this story’s headed. But the best part isn't where we ended up.
It’s how we got there.
TAMED goes back in time to the Tangled days. But this time around, it’s not Drew dishing out the advice and opinions—it’s his best friend Matthew, who of course is dealing with Dee Dee.
It’s a good story. But it’s not our story. Ours is a lot more colorful.
When I met Dee I knew right away that she was special. When she met me, she thought I was anything but special—I was exactly like every other guy who’d screwed her over and let her down. It took some time to convince her otherwise, but turns out I can make a convincing argument when sex is at stake.
You might know where this story’s headed. But the best part isn't where we ended up.
It’s how we got there.
TAMED goes back in time to the Tangled days. But this time around, it’s not Drew dishing out the advice and opinions—it’s his best friend Matthew, who of course is dealing with Dee Dee.
Excerpt
She puts on the helmet, but doesn’t
climb on the Ducati right away. She stands on the sidewalk, hands on
her hips, looking thoughtfully at it. “What would you say if I said
I wanted to drive your motorcycle to the party?”
“I’d say you’re shit out of luck.
I don’t ride bitch.”
She knocks me upside the head—but my
helmet softens the blow. “Then let me take it for a ride myself.
Just around the block.”
“I . . .don’t think so.”
She pouts.
I sigh. “Have you ever driven a
motorcycle before?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to fly,
but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna strap on a squirrel suit and
skydive from the god damn Empire State Building.”
She steps closer, and rubs her
placating hands up my chest. “Come on, please? I’ll be really
careful and grateful. Really grateful. Like . . .deviantly, let you
handcuff me to the bed, kind of grateful.”
Forget the national broadcast
system—this is the test. Am I going to stick to my man-guns, keep
my pride, and protect my cherished vehicle from almost certain
carnage? Or, am I going to be ruled by my dick and swayed by the
promise of kinky, have-Dee-at-my-mercy-all-night-long, sex?
No contest.
“Riding bitch, it is.”
Buy Links
All about Emma
