MASTERS OF THE SHADOWLANDS, BOOK 13
Josie doesn’t need any help raising her son.
Pregnant at sixteen, Josie learned the hard way about men and their empty promises. She picked herself up and is raising her eleven-year-old son. By herself. And that’s the way she intends it to stay. Unfortunately, her impressionable boy becomes fascinated by the scruffy, intimidating biker who lives next door.
The scars on Holt’s face are only the most visible of his wounds.
Out of the hospital after being attacked in his own damn house, Holt is coming to terms with the fact that his scars frighten people. Like his now-ex-girlfriend who ran after one look at him. Like his redheaded neighbor who hauled her boy away as if Holt was a serial killer. Fine. He’ll give the pretty bartender all the space she wants.
The Shadowlands will bring them together…
When Josie starts bartending in the exclusive, private club, she discovers her neighbor is a member. And a Master--a skilled powerful Dom who can make her fantasies come true. Slowly, the firefighter breaks down the walls around her heart, teaching her how to trust. How to love...
But when her son’s choices lead to disaster, can their relationship survive?
PRAISE FOR THIS SERIES
"Even with twelve books in the Masters of the Shadowlands series, Cherise Sinclair manages to make each book even more passionate than the last one. If you haven’t read this series, you’re missing out. Sinclair writes the best Doms. Period." ~ Under the Covers Book Reviews
"One thing that I really love is how Cherise took a series and turned into a family of characters that every time I read the next novel it feels like coming home to friends." ~ Boundless Book Reviews
** Excerpt to come... **
For Friday night at the Shadowlands BDSM club, Uzuri had dressed in all white—a white halter top, frothy petticoats that barely covered her ass, and white fishnet thigh-high stockings. Ben, the security guard had actually approved of her white lacy stilettos, and she’d gotten to leave them on rather than going barefoot.
She’d done her hair in a braided Grecian crown that circled her head and created what she liked to think of as a halo around her head. When she’d told Holt that this was her angelic look, her friend had laughed his fool head off. The dumbass Dom. What did he know, anyway?