Title: Marking Her #1 (Marked Series)
Author: Elena M. Reyes
Genre: Erotica/ Contemporary Romance
Expected Release Date: December 17, 2013
Synopsis
Talan
wants to mark Maya—with more than his ink. The owner of a prominent tattoo
shop, he’s used to being hit on by easy women. Though “easy” is not a word
associated with Maya when she comes in to support her friend. Flirtation
ensues, but what will it take to break the painted man.
Excerpt
“When’s my next appointment?” I asked my
receptionist Janice while making my way around the front counter. I’d just
walked out Lance’s crush and wanted the day to be over.
“You have one more, Talan. Esther is due in twenty.”
“Fuck, I forgot about her.” My body slumped against the
counter. The boys and I were hoping for the evening to be slow, allowing us an
early night.
“That’s why I’m here, handsome. To serve you in any way
you need,” Janice purred, and I sighed as I flipped open my laptop and logged
in. I’d made the mistake of wetting my dick in her a few months back when she
first came through my door. Afterward, she became jealous and clingy, wanting
more than I was willing to give.
The only reason she was still there was because she had
bigger balls than the other two fuckers that worked there. Janice could handle
the leers, gestures, and jokes like a pro, but fuck with her inventory or dirty
my shop, and she will rip you a new one.
“Janice, cut that shit out,” I demanded before storming
off toward the back and into my sanctuary. The guys all laughed when I walked
by. I flipped them the bird and continued on into my room.
An hour had passed since I’d asked Janice if I was clear
and there was still no sign of Esther. It was the usual for her. The woman would
be late to her own funeral, but this was a new one for her.
She was never this late.
I was becoming agitated by the lack of common sense
people had to pick up a goddamn phone. How hard could it be to let me know if
you’re coming or not? There was just something about a person’s lack of
punctuality that pissed me off. Not caring if I had shit to do or places to be
was plain rude.
I was worked up to the point of walking out the damn
door.
“Janice,” I called out into the now empty shop. She’d
insisted – once the boy’s left – in staying behind to help me set up, not
listening to my refusal. “Call Esther and reschedule. I’m beat and—”
“I’m here,” Esther yelled, rushing through the door.
“Traffic was a bitch and I—”
“Save it and get in my chair before I kick you out,” I
grumbled and rubbed my throbbing temples.
