My name is Blackie, I’m the vice president of the Satan’s Knights MC and I’m an addict.
I’ve been trading one addiction for another for as long as I can remember.
I make no apologies for my addictions, nor do I try to hide them.
Until my latest addiction threatens to destroy not just me but her.
For the first time I want to fight the need and not gravitate towards it. I try to deny it and not succumb to it but I’m a prisoner to her purity.
I’m Satan’s soldier, a demon dressed in leather.
She’s an angel, innocent and full of light, she’s my lace.
A temptation so lethal neither of us may survive but, every demon craves an angel.
Guide me to the light.
Take me from the dark.
Give me back my life.
Let me share yours.
They are the selfish words of an addict and they are my truth.
My name is Lacey Parrish and I have a secret, one I’ve tried to deny for a long time, one I’ve tried to spare the world from.
I am a manic-depressive.
Just like my dad.
Some days I’m high on life.
Most days I try to escape it.
People think they know me, they think they see me but the truth is no one knows who I really am. No one sees the real me… a broken girl with a mind that betrays her.
He’s my savior, the man who silences my maker.
He’s my knight in shining armor, the man who puts my life before his.
He’s my leather and I’m his lace.
Two broken souls that have the power to heal one another.
This is our story, an unapologetic tale full of temptations.
A love story called Leather and Lace.
Releases: May 24, 2016
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Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.
Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.
She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she's made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.
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And I was the reason she looked so conflicted. There was no maker to blame, just me.
I see you.
“I see you, Lace,” I whispered.
“A lot of good that does me,” she replied.
I shook my head.
“No good at all,” I affirmed as I extended my hand, taking hers and pulling her against me. “You’d be better off if I never laid eyes on you,” I added, squeezing her hand before I lifted my free one to her cheek. “Too late,” I hissed. “Cause girl, I see you and now I can’t fucking forget you,” I admitted.
The song changed on her iPod and music filtered through the speakers. I watched recognition spark in her eyes as she turned her attention to the speaker.
“Did you ever hear this song?” She asked softly, her voice blending into the music.
“No,” I said, taking a step toward her, bending my knees and bringing us to eye level. I leaned my forehead against hers, taking our joined hands and bringing them behind her to rest against the small of her back.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing but I couldn’t stop.
My lips grazed her temple as she pressed her body against mine, dropping our joined hands to wrap both her arms around my neck.
“Listen to the words,” she demanded.
You’re saying I’m fragile I try not to be
I search for something only I can’t see
“Will you dance with me?” Her voice pleaded as she whispered the question.
I learned then that even the toughest motherfuckers had weaknesses and mine was standing in front of me asking me to dance.
I didn’t fucking dance.
But now I did.
My feet surrendered my soul, taking the steps to bring me closer to her and give her what she needed. I’ve been feeding off her light for so long, taking the sweetness of her greedily because I’ve become addicted to the hope she sparks in me.
Hope that there was a shred of decency buried beneath the leather.
Give her back her wings.
Make it better.
Looking at her now, the selfish reasons that brought me here faded away and are replaced by the need to put her first. To put her before me, to give her back her light and pull her from the sadness that had her crying in solitude.
Just this once I could do the healing and not the reaping.
My hands moved down her back, cupping her ass beneath the t-shirt that barely covered her and I rocked her against my body.
“Blackie,” she whispered.
“Lacey,” I groaned. “I didn’t come here for this,” I said, slipping my fingers beneath her lace panties.
“I know why you came here,” she said, pulling back a fraction as her gaze dipped to my lips. “But I will do everything I can to change your mind,” she promised.
It wouldn’t take much.
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