Flow, the prequel to GRIP, by Kennedy Ryan is now live and TOTALLY FREE! And GRIP, the riveting full-length conclusion, is LIVE! Check out my review below!
FLOW: http://amzn.to/2lAhSSC
GRIP: http://amzn.to/2mc2OLe
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"The story reads like a movie . . powerful and intoxicating ... and sinfully sexy. GRIP has everything—dynamic characters, soulful plot, and a lesson at the end that will change the way you look at life. One of my favorite reads this year. Maybe ever. 5 massive, gripping stars from me!" -- Adriana Lock, USA Today Bestselling Author
EXCERPT:
Grip leans into me, pushing back my hair and rolling his still-icy beer bottle over my neck. I swallow, but don’t dare look at him, hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t.
“When you grow up on the streets, you don’t just develop a sixth sense.” He captures a lock of my hair and tests it between his fingers. “You have six, seven, eight, nine of ’em, because those instincts could be the difference between death or life. My mom and Jade have so many senses they almost know what you’re thinking before you think it. And even though I’ve never told her, Jade only had to be in the room with us for a hot minute to know I want you.”
I clench my eyes closed and pull in a stuttering breath, trapping my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Don’t do this, Grip.”
“Jade’s right,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken, hadn’t asked him to stop. “My mom would flip if I brought a white girl home. If I brought you home. Maybe it is bigoted and ancient, but that’s just her. You know better than most that we don’t get to choose our family, but we still gotta love them.”
I don’t respond to that. He knows how contentious things have been between my brother and my parents. Beyond the headlines everyone else has seen, he knows how hard I’ve worked to reconcile them. I moved to LA to help Rhyson with his career, yes, but also to bridge the country-wide chasm between the two factions of my family.
“Like you, I’d do anything for my family.” He comes in an inch closer, caressing under my chin and tilting it up with his index finger. “But if you’d ever give me a shot, I wouldn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. I’d take you home to my mama.”
I’m a little too high and a lot too horny for this conversation, for the stone-hard thigh pressing against me, for the heat coming off his body and smothering my resistance. I try to sit up, hoping it will clear my head so I can make my escape, but his hand presses gently into my chest, just above the swell of my breasts, compelling me back into the cushion. His lips hover over mine, and I will him to kiss me because I’ll make the first move if he doesn’t. After years of not moving, I have no idea how I’ll explain that once the smoke clears.