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OUT NOW—Cut and Run (The Dreadnoughts Book Two) by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #reverseharem #whychoose #rhromance #reverseharemromance #military #ku #kindleunlimited


Kim’s on track to save the world—but will she pay with her life?

Kim Medhurst, ex-British military intelligence officer turned scientist and climate activist, has a vitally important project on her hands. The mysterious object she set out to retrieve from the remote Scottish island has the potential to power the entire planet. All she needs to do is figure out exactly how to make it happen, and the Scottish Highlands seems the perfect place to complete her research in peace—as well as enjoy the company of the gorgeous Greig twins.

Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple. Someone knows what Kim’s up to and wants to get their hands on her and the object she now calls the ygrene. As if that wasn’t concerning enough, Chastain goes missing, spurring Kim and the others into action. The team’s newfound abilities come in handy as they attempt to find their friend and navigate the murky underworld of dirty energy and those who profit from it.

But, even with their powers, will they be a match for a greedy megalomaniac with no morals?

PLEASE NOTE: Cut and Run has a cliffhanger ending.

Available from: http://books2read.com/cutandrunlf   



Chapter One

Jason Chastain

Jason came to in a whole world of pain. He stopped himself from letting out the grunts and moans he wanted to voice, instead clenching his fists as hard as he could in a silent attempt to release some of his agony, frustration and anger. No way did he want the fuckers who’d taken him to know he was conscious. Much better they believed he was still out cold and therefore no threat to them whatsoever.

In reality, he was very dangerous indeed. Particularly since acquiring his newfound… ability. He could be rid of his bindings, the black hood over his head and the gag stuffed into his mouth with the most miniscule amount of effort. All he’d have to do was phase through them. But that would show his hand in a major way, and the whole point of allowing himself to be abducted had been to get inside the group’s HQ, find out who they were, what they were up to and, more importantly, just what they planned to do with Kim and the ygrene—all without them suspecting he was anything other than some random bloke. To do that, he needed to stay calm and quiet. If the goons thought he was still out for the count, they’d talk, and it would only be a matter of time before someone let something slip, something Jason could use to his advantage.

Firstly, it’d come in handy to know how many people were around, what sort of room he was being held in, and whether he was ever left alone. With that information in his arsenal, he could start to formulate a plan.

He remained still, silent, keeping his breathing slow and deep, which had the double bonuses of making it appear he remained unconscious if there was anyone with him, and allowing him to hone his senses more easily. Obviously with the hood he couldn’t see a damn thing, but he could feel, hear and smell. The first thing he realised, to his immense relief, was that he was still fully clothed—including shoes. Thank God for that. That’ll certainly make getting home much easier, once I’m done here. He moved on to his other senses. To begin with, he didn’t pick up anything beyond the sound of his own breathing and heartbeat, and the musty stench of the hood itself, but he drew on all his training and experience to push past that and reach for what was beyond.

No human sounds—no breathing, shuffling, coughing, sniffing, talking. Which either meant he was alone, or with someone extremely quiet. No one’s that quiet. He suspected the former, leading him to believe he was in an incredibly secure room, likely part of a bigger complex. If he was in some ramshackle garage on an industrial estate somewhere, there’d be bods right there ensuring he didn’t break out through some weakness in the structure itself—if he could get out of his bonds, that was. If only they knew.

He risked a sigh. So much for someone letting something slip in my earshot. There’s no fucker here.

In the past, the idea of being caged, alone, in an incredibly secure room would have concerned him, made him long for the ramshackle garage and the bods—easy prey for someone with his background. But now, even a steel box couldn’t contain him. He hadn’t yet tested the theory, but he suspected that not even metres and metres of reinforced concrete would hold him hostage. Yes, it’d slow him down, and escaping it wouldn’t be the most pleasant of experiences, but it was probably achievable.

He turned his attention to smell. After the pongy hood and gag, most obvious were his own body odour and the tang of blood—also his own, he suspected—but otherwise, zilch. Nada. He frowned. What kind of room or building was so… sterile?

He took another deep, slow breath. Even the air itself seemed clean. Not the pure freshness one would get from being outside or next to an open window; more like from air conditioning. With that thought in mind, he listened harder and… yes, unless he was mistaken, there was the gentle, regular hum of a system which circulated air.

He frowned. So he was in some kind of sterile environment with air conditioning? A hospital, or lab of some kind? Despite his extremely low opinion of the muppets who’d fallen into his trap and swiped him from the Greenwich street outside Kim’s house, they clearly worked for someone with resources.

But the question was, did those resources extend to having eyes and ears of the technological kind on him? That would be a problem, because although he could phase his way out of here at the drop of a hat, if his escape was caught on video, that was proof of what he could do. And, even if it got out to the wider public and he somehow managed to say the footage had been made up, manipulated somehow… well, there was no smoke without fire, was there? He’d have something he’d never wanted, something he definitely didn’t want now: attention.


Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award), The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Join her Facebook group for exclusive cover reveals, sneak peeks and more! Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter here: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

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Piloting Fury Part 6: New KDG Read

Happy Friday my Lovelies! I hope you’re enjoying Piloting Fury. If you are, please share the word. Something entertaining to read in lockdown goes a long way for passing the time happily, and I’ll be offering a new episode of Fury every Friday. Last week, Diana Mac reports for duty onboard the Fury and found the situation rather different than she expected. In Part 6, she does a bit of exploring around her new home.




Piloting Fury

“Win the bet and Fury’s yours. Lose the bet and your ass is mine.” It seemed like a no-brainer — Rick Manning’s slightly inebriated offer. If he’d been sober, he’d have remembered indentured pilot, Diana “Mac” McAlister never lost a bet. All her life she’s dreamed of buying back her freedom and owning her own starship, and when Fury’s ne’er-do-well, irritating as hell captain all but hands Fury to her on a silver platter she figures she can’t lose. She figured wrong. That’s how the best pilot in the galaxy finds herself the indentured 1st mate of a crew that, thanks to her, has doubled in size. Too late, she finds out Fury is way more than a cargo ship. Fury is a ship with a history – a dangerous history, and one that Mac’s been a part of for a lot longer than she thinks. And Rick Manning is not above cheating at poker to get her right at the center of it all, exactly where he needs her to be.


Not What She Expected

I had to pick my dropped jaw up off the console before I could do anything else. The rat bastard had been onboard all the time and hadn’t bothered to get his ass out of bed. I had half a notion to go bang on his door until he answered it and then kick him in the balls. But what was the point? I was his and if he wanted to spend the next twenty years in bed with me serving him meals on a silver platter, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

My righteous anger lasted just until I got the all clear from the port master computer and released the docking clamps. Then just like always, I was a pilot through and through. I might well be indentured, but I was still a damn fine pilot and Fury, no matter what sex, was a damn fine ship to be piloting. I reversed out of a cramped little space that would have been a difficult maneuver for a ship half the Fury’s size, and I was in my element. The Dubrovnik was a good ship easy to pilot, but piloting Fury was like having really great sex. I’d never piloted such a responsive ship.

“Manning may be a bastard, but we’re gonna get along just fine,” I said, once we’d maneuvers clear of the busy space lanes and headed out toward the Corset. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Hon. I got you now. I’ll take good care of you.”

If captains were a superstitious lot, pilots were even more so, and on top of that we were soppy sentimentalists. The captain might be in charge, but every good pilot knows that the ship is hers in a way that’s far deeper, far more personal than it ever is for a captain. Indentured I might be and under dubious circumstances in both cases, but Fury was already mine. I felt it deep in my gut even more than I had with the Dubrovnik. But the Dubrovnik was more of a hive mind. Fury was willing and ready to go one on one with me, and he all but purred when I took the controls and guided him out through the heavy port traffic and into the main space lane away from Outer New Hibernia.

By the time I’d laid in the coordinates I found in the ship’s computer for our rendezvous with the Torrington, I was basking in the after glow, itching for the foreplay of maneuvering through the Dublin Corset, the bizarre asteroid belt that was Outer New Hibernia’s man made defense structure, and a piece of engineering nearly impossible for most pilots to maneuver without help from the station. While I wouldn’t have been allowed to attempt it on the Dubrovnik, Fury was as ready to dance as I was, and we tangoed our way right on out through the Corset with no help from the station, no help from anybody, thank you very much.

I’d all but forgotten about Manning until I passed his quarters on the way to the galley to make myself a coffee and have a sandwich. Having unsupervised use of a replicator was a luxury I planned to take full advantage of.

On a whim, I cupped my ear to the door. Aboard the Dubrovnik, the captain’s quarters and those of the senior officers were soundproof, and while technically I was a senior officer, as an indentured, I wasn’t afforded that luxury. Nor was I afforded the luxury of the not so soundproof crew quarters. At Abriad Fallon’s insistence, I was given little more than a rabbit hutch off the engine room, a reminder that I was still his and he could do with me what he wanted even onboard the Dubrovnik. I’d learned to sleep in a fetal position while listening to the growl of the engine, which I found far more pleasant than the fraternizing that went on in the thin-walled crew quarters, a constant reminder that I was not one of them. Treks to the edge of the Rim were long and boring, and fucking was the main way to pass time on a big freighter. Though for me, it was just one more reminder that consensual sex was something I couldn’t risk for myself or for a partner when I didn’t know who Fallon might have onboard to keep an eye on me. I could hear nothing coming from Manning’s quarters though. I figured he really was sleeping it off.

It was then that I noticed the door next to Manning’s now bore an imitation brass plate that read ‘First Mate Diana McAllister.’ It hadn’t been there before. Believe me an indentured wouldn’t miss something like that. I glanced back at Manning’s door and frowned. How had he managed that without me noticing him up and about? Rick Manning was impossible not to notice. Even his presence asleep dominated the whole ship, and yet while I was making love to Fury, he must have done this.

I opened the door, which was no longer locked, and cautiously stepped inside. With Manning I had no idea what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. While the space wasn’t big, it felt positively palatial to me. The bed was just the standard built-in space faring size, but to me, it was big enough to wallow in and long enough to accommodate all of my height. Hell, I would have ended up hunchbacked from sleeping in the little bit of space I had on the Dubrovnik. This was pure luxury. The recessed safety-shielded shelves above the bed displayed an ancient astrolabe and a small brass orrery, clearly old Terran. They were beautifully replicated and placed between a smattering of antique books. No doubt they were copies, but in this day and age even copies cost a fortune. To my delight, there was even a tiny window with a view of the void. Who the hell had a window these days? There was a desk and a chair, and there was a bathroom. I had my own private bathroom! The shower was actually big enough to turn around in. It even had a water replication feature. The place was like a fucking mansion. I had time before we rendezvoused with the Torrington, and I was still in my worse for wear dress. A peak into a small slide-out
closet showed that Manning had thought of that too.

No stodgy uniform for Fury’s crew. Instead I found several lightweight jumpsuits in varying colors designed for comfort as well as style. I could live with that. I stripped and stepped into the shower.

© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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