Definition of Stripped by Lia Peele - Book Blitz
Definition of Stripped
Lia Peele
Author: Lia Peele
Genre: Contemporary
Romance, Erotic Romance,
Initial Price: 99 p / 99 c
Amazon Rating: 4.5
Release Date: 5th
March 2018
Buy Link: http://amzn.to/2FS9hoj
Key Words: Contemporary
erotic romance, second chance romance, alpha male, alpha female, male escort,
stripper, urban drama,
Blurb:
Lust. Secrets.
Lies.
A girls’ night
out. A handsome stranger. A lifetime of secrets.
Scarlett Trent,
is a young, gorgeous, and successful career woman who is fiercely protective of
her reputation in the local business community. Behind her well-constructed
façade she’s equally protective of the kinky secrets she’d like to keep under
wraps. When she meets someone from her past, their instant chemistry throws her
off balance, and that’s the last position she wants to be in. Especially with
him.
Brilliant,
charming, and handsome, Dev Jackson never chased women. They chased him, and
that’s how he played the game until now. No woman excites him as much as
Scarlett. She’s hot, sexy with a sassy edge and represents everything he
thought he never wanted. And it scares the hell out of him. Their chance
meeting is the beginning of what will be the most exhilarating experience of
his life … and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s got secrets too; lots of
them, and as the heat between them rises, doubt begins to plague him.
His attitude
isn’t the only thing threatening their budding romance. Someone else wants to
see them sever ties.
Excerpt:
“Come on all you
sex-starved ladies, let me hear you scream!” Miss Interpreted, a drag queen and
our MC this evening, hollers into her handheld mic. “Aaannd … pump it, pump it,
pump it, pump it!”
Taboo Burlesque
Club is packed with 300 oestrogen-loaded women. The noise ripples through the
glitzy throng as 299 voices scream their appreciation.
As guests with
hen party status, we’re seated in the alleged VIP section giving us a perfect
view of the entertainment. If this is the VIP section, then who are the people
occupying the three rooms with one way mirrored glass on the other side of the
club, I wonder? They’re obviously far too important to be seen stage-side.
Empty shot glasses crowd our alcohol-drenched table and the pervasive, sweet
smell of vodka and Red Bull fills the air. Underfoot the wooden laminate is
sticky with the spilt drinks of drunken partygoers.
Why did I agree
to this? I usually spend Friday nights at home, my nose buried in reports.
Taboo isn’t the place I’d choose to be, yet here I am waiting for the headline
act and eighth member of the male striptease performance group, the Alphas.
It’s not as if I know the people I’m with, for the most part. They wouldn’t
notice if I disappeared to the loo and didn’t come back. Well, maybe one of them
would, and she’s the reason I’m still here.
It could be
worse, I guess, because at least the club is finished to a high standard.
Chandeliers laden with fat black crystals vibrate to the sound of George
Michael’s, Outside, and black walls provide the backdrop to a stunning trompe
l’oeil depicting Hades. Blood red and ochre tipped flames scorch the scene.
Hades’ unwilling subjects, visible by the whites of their eyes, keep their
distance beyond the fire. It’s so realistic, I feel a visceral connection urging
me to touch it and discover whether the inhabitants would drag me to the dark
side.
A waiter’s fine
body, bulked up with muscle, severs the link as he walks past my line of sight,
forcing my attention on him instead. He’s cute and I shouldn’t judge, but I
immediately think shared custody followed by bathroom slot.
Startling me out
of my reverie, my best friend, Sian, snaps her fingers in front of my jaded,
glazed-over eyes.
“Scarlett, look
at me, not him!” she shouts.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry about
tonight.”
She rubs my
cheeks with both hands and purses my lips with her fingers. Sian knows me so
well it’s annoying. Inseparable since meeting at uni, I’m allowed to be
irritated by her meddling because it’s what she does best. We bunked together,
worked together, and got drunk together. I can’t count the number of times
she’s dragged me to parties I didn’t want to go to. She thinks she’s doing me a
favour by handing me a bespoke social life.
I remove her
hands and force a shot glass into one of them. “You should be sorry, Sian. When
you asked me to Lisa’s hen party, you didn’t mention the Alphas would be the
entertainment.”
She thrusts an
impatient hand through her short, black hair, and shakes her head with
exasperation. “You wouldn’t have come. That’s why I didn’t.”
Quirking an
eyebrow at her, I take another sip of my red wine. “Ah, come on, Sian, you know
I was up for a celebration after the news I heard today.” I glance at the
crowd, chewing my bottom lip. “It’ll screw my rep if anybody sees me.”
With a look reminiscent
of something between boredom and sympathy, she takes my hands in hers and
sighs. “Look here, Ms. IQ. I know your nomination for the award means like,
everything, but go on, tell me what it’s for one more time.”
Sian’s referring
to my public persona, the one she labelled Ms. Ice Queen, or Ms. IQ. I created
her to handle the hits a business owner takes. Now we’re inseparable and I
can’t pinpoint my transformation into the person I’d projected at will.
“Nah, you’re
taking the piss. I’ve told you twice already.”
Bumping
shoulders with me, she says, “Humour me, chick, I can see you’re busting at the
seams to tell me again.”
“Once more, and
that’s it. It’s for the North East Businesswoman of the Year.”
“Yay, the NEBY,
I knew that,” she says. “You’ll walk it, chick, so chill. Trent:ches is getting
stronger, but hey, it’s your baby and I’d expect nothing less. But you’ve got
to worrying about someone spotting you. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, you
know.”
“I enjoy myself
just not in seedy places like this.”
“Oh my God, have
you heard yourself? This place is not seedy, okay? I think it’s kinda cool.
Anyway, you’re my mate, and I need you here. Lisa may be my cousin but we’re a
million miles apart in every way. I mean seriously, take a look.”
We glance at Lisa
and her cronies.
“What’s the
problem?”
“Are you kidding
me?” she shrieks. “They’re clones, Lettie. Ten women who share the same
hairdresser, train at the same gym, shop at the same designer shops, and have
their eyebrows tattooed by the same artist. No imagination, that’s their
problem.”
I look at Sian’s
perfectly arched black eyebrows, Chanel makeup, gym-streamlined body, Vivienne
Westwood dress, and Michael Kors handbag. “Pot and kettle mean anything to you,
hon?”
“What? Me?” she
screeches, “don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Speaking of
Lisa,” – I nudge Sian slyly, out of sight – “have you seen her? She’s already
out of her skull on champagne, and now her friends have got her on shots.”
After a quick
peep at her cousin, she murmurs, “Bollocks.” Eyes widening, Sian giggles into
her hand in the infectious way she does when she’s tipsy. “Fuck, I’m supposed
to be looking after her. Who the hell has stuck those condoms to her glass?”
About Lia Peele:
Lia Peele is
from the NE of England and is the author of the five book Definition series.
She enjoys getting to the grit of the story and writes stories about flawed,
dysfunctional, extraordinary characters. She wants to capture your attention
and have you thinking about the book the day after you finished, and the day
after that, too. If you're after a Happy Ever After, you'll get it, but she
makes you sweat along the way. She's just a little twisted like that.
Stalker Links:
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Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100016899288600
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LiaPeeleAuthor
Website: www.liapeele.co.uk
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2BHKmED
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