 Mr. Beautiful is LIVE! We're thrilled to help celebrate the release by hosting an Up in the Air signed series giveaway from R.K. Lilley (Open international). Mr. Beautiful is the companion novel to R.K. Lilley's bestselling Up in the Air series and is told from James Cavendish's POV. We also get POV chapters from some of our favorite characters like Stephan and Frankie. PLUS, an epic James AND Tristan epilogue. A fabulous addition for any Up in the Air and Danika & Tristan series fans.
I couldn’t sleep after the shooting.
Bianca slept like a baby, like she never had before, like every worry she’d ever had had disappeared with the death of her father.
But not me. I was more restless than ever. A miracle had saved her, not me, and I felt helpless because of it.
It was not a feeling that fit me well.
In fact, it made my skin crawl in discomfort. In anger.
It had been months since the attack. She and Stephan were healed physically, and it seemed emotionally, but I felt the wounds as though they were fresh. What had almost happened haunted me. I was a man that needed control, and I’d been shown, in the starkest way possible, that I had none.
I sat scant feet away from our bed, watching Bianca sleep. She was nude, with not so much as a sheet covering her. I’d seen to that. I watched her lithe form shift on the bed, one long leg hitching up to give me a glimpse of the pink between her legs.
I felt like a fucking stalker.
In fact, I was one, watching her for hours on end, night after night.
I tensed when I realized she’d roused. It disturbed her that I couldn’t sleep, when she deserved peace more than anyone.
She sat up, and I watched her heavy breasts swaying with the movement. “James.” Her voice was the softest utterance.
“Love,” I answered, feeling the dark mood that had overtaken me lift in an instant. Just having her eyes on me could do that.
She crawled across the bed toward me. She’d always had an uncanny ability to do exactly the thing that would drive me the most wild, and she’d only gotten better at that over time. She didn’t hide her body from me as she moved. In fact, she posed for me, even the exposure of her body an act of submission. As though reading my thoughts, as though even those were a command, she paused on the edge of the bed, parting her legs to let me look my fill before she rose, approaching my chair.
I stood to meet her, my body drawn tight, my cock throbbing as though I hadn’t come, buried inside of her, just hours before.
I was a statue as she leaned up to my ear, my brows drawing together in a question. Her lips touched my ear as she spoke.
“Hurt me,” she whispered raggedly.
My eyes shut tight, my jaw went slack, and a shudder wracked my entire body.
I’d avoided all of the rough stuff since she’d been injured, but God had I missed it.
“We don’t have to, Bianca. It’s not necess-”
She gripped my hair, pulling my face down to her injured cheek. She dug her jaw into me so hard that I knew it must have been hurting her badly. It was healed now, but I knew it was still sore.
“I need it,” she rasped into my ear. “I’ll never stop needing it. Please.”
I pulled back, and my hands trembled as I cupped her face in my hands, my eyes searching hers desperately for what I wanted to see. Need. Yes. She needed this as much as I did. Perhaps more so.
“Get on the bed,” I told her thickly.
 JAMES
She was my sin and my temple. I both worshipped and defiled there. Gloried and desecrated. Revered and debased.
I’ve been remade four times in my life.
It is a distinct feeling. Impossible to mistake. The very marked sensation of being unraveled and reknit into a new thing, a new person. It can be good or bad, helpful or harmful, but above all, it is unstoppable.
I was remade when my parents died, went from a happy childhood, into navigating a very dark world, with endless responsibilities, surrounded by enemies, and despairingly alone.
It happened again at the hands of a cowardly predator. I’d become angrier with that one, more cynical, and it undoubtedly turned me into the kinky f**k I was today.
The third happened swiftly. One day I looked up into a pair of pale blue eyes and saw the other half of my soul. Checkmate. I went from a completely controlled existence, a life where I made every decision with cold calculation, to a man overcome with feelings and emotions that were foreign but somehow wonderful.
And all too soon after that cataclysmic change was this fourth one, this one where I begged a God I’d never entertained to spare the life of a woman that I could not live without.
Mr. Beautiful is a continuation of the Up in the Air series, told from the male point of view, with POVs from James, Stephan, Tristan, Frankie, and Akira.
Up in the Air Reading Order & Purchase Links Giveaway: Win Signed Up in the Air Series Set
Open internationally
 R.K. Lilley is one of our fave authors and is always an automatic one-click for us. Today we're thrilled to celebrate the final conclusion of her scorching HOT new serial series, The Wild Side.
Have you read The Wild Side yet?! If you thought R.K. Lilley's books were steamy before? She takes it to a whole new level. You will see a different side to her highly erotic writing style and we loved it. She brings the HEAT again but this time it's naughtier, it's smuttier, and it's very raw. You will love the mystery and suspense behind Iris' whereabouts and the Epilogue was just perfect.
The Wild Side Bk 1 Summary & Purchase Link Alasdair Masters is in a rut. He just hit forty, has been nearly celibate for the past year, and his life has turned into a daily sequence of lonely patterns that revolve around avoiding human contact.
His tidy life is turned on its head when a hot young blonde at the gym that’s been pseudo-stalking him decides to rock his world. A very young blonde. Way, way too young for him. The problem is, he can’t seem to tell her no, and she just keeps coming back for more.
It doesn’t help that he’s ninety percent sure she’s a criminal, and still, he can’t seem to turn her down. What is a dull introvert to do when a chaotic cyclone that oozes sexuality comes twisting into his life?
At first, he thinks she’ll give him a heart attack, but after his twenty-year marriage ended a year ago, he’s been a little lost, and when she comes crashing into his life, he realizes that he’s never felt more alive.
Is a walk on the wild side just what he needs to get his on track or a disaster in the making? Is it possible for someone that much younger to be just what he needs, or is she a fortune hunter, as everyone keeps telling him? Is it his hormones telling him that the mysterious younger woman is the one, or could it be more?
Additional Teasers from The Wild Side
(Click on picture for full view)  ARE YOU READY FOR A TWIST?
Who is Iris? Where did she come from? Where has she gone?
Alasdair Masters has more questions than answers about his new, too young obsession, and when he finds out she’s been lying to him, from their first meeting to their last one, he’s more confused than ever about her feelings, her intentions.
And what’s just as confusing are his own feelings. Has he turned something purely physical into something emotional in his own head? Is any of it mutual?
The only thing he doesn’t question is whether he’ll keep going back for more.
DAIR
Me, I was simple. I was order. A very neat, efficient machine that ran on nothing but air.
Me plus anyone else, well, that was another matter. And me plus Iris, that was a monster of a machine, with all gears going at different speeds, some spinning off their hinges, just going mad, but it was a wonderful madness, at full throttle, misfiring in all directions.
It felt wonderful and dreadful.
I was breaking down, and it felt amazing.
And terrifying.
 I’d started writing everything about her down. I didn’t want to forget.
The color of her hair. The depth of her eyes. The stubborn shape of her jaw. The way her lips shaped words with such expression. The way her voice made my chest ache. The way she gave advice beyond her years.
The way she listened like she cared about every word.
The way she made me feel—Alive.
Every curve and hollow of her body was recorded, in my mind, and now my hard drive.
There was a bit of truth in every lie, and even if it had only been fed to me in the smallest increments, I wanted, needed to remember the real Iris.
Because in the end, there was one irrefutable thing that I couldn’t deny.
Hostage or hustler, sinner or saint, whatever she was or wasn’t, whether she lied to my face or taunted me with hints of the truth, all of this seemed always to defer to the more pertinent fact at hand.
She was mine.
Inconceivably.
Undeniably.
Mine.
After yet another shocking discovery, followed by a disturbing letter, Dair is almost certain Iris has left his life for good. He tries his best to move on.
Easier said than done, and when an unexpected and dangerous opportunity arises for him to find out what happened to her, he doesn’t hesitate to take it.
As usual, with Iris, the answer leaves him more lost than the question.
Every revelation is shrouded in mystery, and every disclosure leaves Dair more in the dark than ever.
And when finally, the messy truth is revealed in its entirety, will he be ready for it?
Meet the Author R.K. Lilley lives in Colorado with her husband and their two beautiful sons. She's had a lot of interesting jobs, from being a first class flight attendant, to being a stablehand, but swears she never knew what hard work was until she had children. She's been addicted to both reading and writing fiction since she can remember. She loves to travel, read, hike, paint, game, watch anime, and make the most of every single day. She is the author of the erotic romance novels In Flight, Mile High, Grounded, and the novella, Lana.
Stalk Her: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | GOODREADS | ROCK STAR PAGE
Tristan & Danika Trilogy Up in the Air Series and Lana Spin-off Novella
We're honored to spotlight R.K. Lilley's TRISTAN & DANIKA Trilogy - a spin-off from R.K. Lilley's sizzling Up in the Air trilogy. We loved Bad Things, Book 1 of Tristan and Danika's journey, and Rock Bottom absolutely owned us. But, Lovely Trigger, Book 3, and the final conclusion, blew us away - hands down one of our favorite trilogy. Tristan & Danika's journey will forever be etched in our hearts. With the brutal ending to Rock Bottom, R.K. Lilley gave us everything we wanted and SO much more. The only way to describe Lovely Trigger is that, my heart never stopped racing. She made us work for that happy ever after, she stripped her soul bare for these beloved characters, and we admire, applaud, and love her for it. BRAVO R.K., we fangirl you hard. A Must, Must Read. Today, read teasers from all three books, including a full teaser from Lovely Trigger, an emotional and scorching reunion! Lovely Trigger (Bk #1) Teaser, Synopsis & Purchase Button TEASER
DANIKA
THE WEDDING RECEPTION OF JAMES AND BIANCA CAVENDISH
“That motherfucker is even bigger than you,” shot out of my mouth as Tristan took his seat beside me.
He gave me one quick look, and then looked at Akira, but that look told me plenty of things that I’d rather not have known. For starters, my statement came out sassier than I’d intended, and Tristan still loved my sassy. In fact, he ate it up. His gaze had been hot, and...something else that I didn’t want to name.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he said idly, taking a sip of water. “That giant bastard is taken.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “I know that. He’s married to a supermodel. I was just saying...it must be weird for you, usually the biggest guy in the room, having to look up at somebody. And his biceps are even a bit wider than yours...”
His breath whooshed out in a surprised laugh. “You and your big arm fetish. Mine are still bigger than your waist. They haven’t gotten any smaller.”
I didn’t let myself look at them, but it was a struggle. And I’d looked enough already to know that he was right.
Absently, I rubbed at my bad knee under the table.
I felt him staring at me.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly, as though he couldn’t help himself. I made my face into a very careful mask. “It’s fine, just a bit stiff.
Nothing to concern yourself with.”
Nothing on earth could have shocked me more than when his hand touched my leg, sliding under mine to rub at my knee, somehow knowing just where to touch to ease the ache. He’d always had a special talent for that.
“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth. We’d been getting along for days, but this was too much, too far.
He didn’t even flinch away from the look of murder I sent him, the bold bastard. “I’m just trying to help,” he said, deadly earnest.
“I don’t need your help.” My tone was venomous.
He didn’t stop rubbing, still didn’t flinch away. Over the last six years, it had been way too easy to get him to back off, and I found that I had no clue what to do when my venom didn’t push him away.
“I know that. Believe me, I know it. But what if I need to give it?”
“We’re at the wedding of two people I adore, so I will be civil for about ten more seconds, but you had better believe that—“
“What about friendship? Can we just try that? No funny business, I swear.”
I felt so stiff, and I knew hostility was radiating off me in waves.
Frankie caught my eye, her arm around her girl. This was a wedding, a joyous occasion, and her concerned look swayed me. She was worried I’d cause a scene, and it hurt me that she was right to be worried.
I’m more mature than this, I told myself. And hell, why couldn’t we be friends? I didn’t think he was attracted to me anymore. I knew that what he wanted really was just friendship, and forgiveness, so why couldn’t I just give that to him? Why did I feel the need to shut him out completely?
I knew the answer. I was like a wounded animal, lashing out at his indifference, which had become the cause of my pain.
“No funny business?” I asked, then spoke again before he could answer. “I actually believe that now. I didn’t figure you were into cripples.”
His hand dropped limply from my knee.
I got a look at his face, right before his gaze dropped down to the table, and instantly regretted saying something so ugly.
Whatever his feelings for me had turned into, I still had the power to wound him deeply.
“I’m sorry,” I told him quickly.
I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a furious looking Frankie.
She sat on Tristan’s other side, giving me a hostile look that I’d never have figured she’d direct at me.
“You okay?” she asked Tristan, her hand going to his arm. He nodded shortly, stood up, and strode away.
“When are you going to stop hurting him? When is it going to be enough for you? You wanted him punished, he’s been through hell. What more do you want?”
Part of me was livid about every word that came out of her mouth, but another part, the part that wouldn’t shut up today, knew she had a point. I had been punishing him, for six years I’d been punishing him, and it had gotten out of hand.
She stood, and I knew that it was to go after him, to make sure he was okay.
I stopped her with a grip on her hand. “I’ve got this,” I told her, standing. “You’ve got some best man duties to attend to.”
“Please, Danika. You don’t have to take him back, but please, just be kind to him. He’s been through enough. You both have. You’re hurting yourself with this bullshit, too, you know.”
I knew it. I let my eyes show her that as I nodded.
I found him walking aimlessly through the woods, somewhere between the wedding tents and the fortress of a building that James called a ‘house’.
“Tristan,” I called out loudly.
He froze. He didn’t turn around, just stopped.
I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his arm.
“I’m sorry I said that. It was an ugly thing to say, and I didn’t even mean it. You know how I am. I can never seem to keep things to myself, and sometimes they come out worse than I mean them.”
“You’ve been pretty good at keeping things to yourself for a very long time.”
My eyebrows shot straight up. He had a point. I had gotten better at holding my tongue, but I couldn’t quite decipher what his tone meant.
“That’s true. I’ve grown up. But what I said back there wasn’t grown up, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t have a grudge against you. I really have gotten over our...history together, and I think you’re right. There’s no reason that we can’t be friends again.”
“Thank you.” His voice was low and hoarse, his head tilted forward. Even in the semi-darkness, I could see that his eyes stayed on the ground.
There was something so defeated in his stance, something so hopeless in his voice, that I couldn’t seem to help myself; I hugged him. For comfort, for support. Whether it was for him or me or both of us, I didn’t dare contemplate.
I had to stand up on my tiptoes to get my arms around his neck, and that was with him slouched down.
He was stiff as a corpse for about ten seconds before he reacted, his arms squeezing me so hard that I let out a grunt as all of the air was pushed out of me.
He eased up, and I took a few breaths before relaxing into him.
My body seemed to take over, because touching him brought back so many sensory memories. We were a train wreck, he and I, but something about touching him had always just felt right to me.
I pressed into him, my face still buried in his neck.
He pulled back slightly, and I looked up at him. I couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but I knew he was looking down at me.
“Tristan,” I uttered softly.
He lowered his head until his mouth was a breath away from mine, and even then, I didn’t think he could possibly be going there. “Tristan.”
He moved his hands to cup my face, and at the corner of my vision, I could see that that they were trembling.
He tilted my head one way, slanted his head the other, and brought our lips together.
He kissed me.
A desperate, hungry, wild, make me forget the past and the future kind of kiss.
Most of my life was spent displaying a cool reserve to the world, my self- control assured and seemingly effortless. One brief kiss and the years dissolved, the past and the present merging into one singular thought that existed right now. And right now all that mattered was this connection, this sensation, that began at our joined lips and traveled down my body, igniting every last molecule of my being into a wildfire of sensation.
I snapped.
My hands clawed at his shoulders, my mouth ravenous on his. I’d always considered myself a good kisser, and I knew for a fact that Tristan was one, but there was no finesse in this. We simply took, and took, and gave in the form of clashing teeth and warring tongues.
His hands moved to my hips, lifting me high against his body. I’d longed for this body, this exact shape, every bend, bulge and curve of him all that my body needed. My legs wrapped around his waist, animalistic whimpers escaping my throat as his erection pushed hard against my belly, and, after I’d shifted just right, straight into my clit.
I knew he was walking, carrying me, but I didn’t care, just sucking at his tongue, biting his lip until I tasted blood. The sky could have fallen around our heads and I wouldn’t have cared. I wasn’t letting go of this; this mindless moment where everything felt like it had shifted back into place, and all of the wrongs were right again.
He tried to set me down, but I wouldn’t let him, my legs a vise around his hips, my arms locked around his shoulders. He pulled his head back, and I bit his neck, rubbing my torso into his.
“Please,” he whispered hoarsely.
That one small request had me pulling back just far enough to look at him. A bright lantern light shone down at us, and I took in our surroundings.
We were on the back porch of the ranch house, and Tristan was pushing my hips away from his, sitting me on the thick rail that ran the length of the patio. Confused and disoriented, I let him.
I swallowed hard, opening my mouth to say God only knows what when his hands shot to the hem of my lavender bridesmaid dress, yanking it up over my hips.
That effectively squelched my urge to try to speak.
We were rushing headlong into this lunacy, and I could worry about the mess we made later.
I wanted this, needed this like I hadn’t needed anything since I’d cauterized all of the joy from my life.
He pulled the dress straight up, flipping it all the way over my head until my arms were effectively restrained. I didn’t know, or care, if that had been his intent.
He unsnapped the front clasp of my bra, moaning and bending down to suck one quivering globe into his mouth. His hands fumbled with his belt and fly. He groaned, and I gasped as his freed erection sprang into my stomach.
Big fingers shoved my panties to the side, and the tip of him was pushing into me as he raised his head and took my mouth again. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask if I was sure I wanted to do this.
I was relieved, because a crash this brutal could handle no brakes at all.
He reared back, then drove forward, burying his cock in me with one hard stroke.
The world stopped as we took what we needed, what I’d been starved for from the very last time I’d been in his arms.
It was a frenzied mating, a swift coming together that took me to the fever pitch of ecstasy with a few rough, heavy strokes, over too soon, the perfect testament to our torrid love affair.
We didn’t move for a very long time after we finished, and more importantly, we didn’t speak. Words would break the spell. Words were reality. This was a stolen moment, and I wanted to keep it as safe from reality as possible.
My forehead had fallen to his shoulder at some point, and what felt like his cheek was pressed to the top of my head. He didn’t pull out, the only movement between us the aftereffects of his member still twitching deep inside of me.
We stayed like that for what could have been minutes or an hour. I had no idea what he could be thinking, and I was trying hard not to think about anything but the moment at hand, and the pleasure of being in his arms for this tiny foray of ours into utter lunacy.
It was the first impulsive thing I’d done in years, and boy was it a doozy. “Danika,” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse but soft.
I sighed heavily, pulling back. The spell was broken.
I couldn’t look him in the eye, and looking down was a no go, so I looked over his shoulder as I spoke. “Can you put my dress back on? We need to get back. We’re both in the wedding party, so I’m sure we’ll be missed.”
His hands moved to start righting my gown, and still he didn’t pull out. I would have tried to shift away, but I was afraid it would just lead to another indiscretion.
“Danika,” he said again, his voice very soft, and very sad.
God, it was flooring how just listening to that deep voice of his could captivate me. For just the sound of his voice alone, I could have stayed glued to that spot indefinitely.
I shook the thought off, calling myself a fool.
“I need a minute alone, if you don’t mind. I’m going to go clean up.”
He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head away. “My dress, please.” My
voice wasn’t sharp, in fact it was gentle, but I saw him flinch out of the corner of my eye.
How did he always do that? Make me want to take back whatever I’d said that may have hurt him, even after all this time.
Reason number one thousand why I needed to stay away from him.
We both gasped in a harsh breath as he dragged himself out of me. I clenched at him involuntarily as he pulled, and that seemed to drag it out, into an act of pure torture. His girth assured that he hit every nerve ending on his way out.
I cursed.
He pulled my dress back up onto my arms, then over my head, then my shoulders. His hands were gently caressing as he eased every inch of it back in place.
I didn’t look at him.
He still had his hips close, still between my thighs, even as he smoothed my dress over my back.
I felt him nudge back against my sex, seeking entrance again.
I don’t know how, but I managed to shake my head. We would not be going for another round, addictive as it might be.
I had to get off the crazy train now, not go for another loop. 18
Tristan
I needed just a moment, to go be by myself and think. The sooner the better.
He stepped back, and helped me down. He let me go to tuck himself back into his pants, and I fled into the house.
The place had a ton of bathrooms set throughout the sprawling mansion, but I went up to my appointed guest suite, and used my private bath to clean up, then combed my hair, and touched up my makeup.
I stared at my dazed expression for a solid five minutes, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
Was this some new sickness, or had the old one persisted, in spite of everything?
Or was this the result of mishandling the situation altogether?
How were we back to square one six years later, within just a few conversations?
Had that happened because we’d never learned to cope with sharing the same space? Had never having any contact at all just made us more susceptible to a screw up of epic proportions?
Had we only made ourselves more sensitive to the other’s presence, when what we’d needed was to be desensitized?
Was it just possible that there was some middle ground here? Some sort of closure to the romantic part of our relationship that I’d never pursued?
I had always thought of Tristan in terms of all or nothing, but clearly, that hadn’t worked. That failure was currently staring me in the face, and perhaps more mortifying, dripping down my leg.
I could admit that cutting someone that had become such an undeniably significant part of me so completely out of my life had been damaging to me.
It had stunted me. Stunted my happiness. Stunted my growth.
That was a fact I’d accepted long ago, in a resigned sort of way, seeing it as a necessary evil.
But what if it wasn’t necessary? What if it was only detrimental? Spending some rare time in his company made me realize something new.
I’d been so focused on the bad of him, of us, the bad of all that had happened, that I’d forgotten the good.
I’d lived the bad, existed with it every waking hour of every day, and some nights, in my dreams, as well.
Why shouldn’t I get a bit of the good?
What if, just maybe, I needed it?
What if it would help me close that chapter of my life?
Being with him was out of the question. A longterm romantic relationship was absolutely unthinkable. But a friendship? Hadn’t I moved on enough to at least give myself that small bit of comfort?
Didn’t I deserve it?
 SYNOPSIS
THE IMPACT
Tristan hit rock bottom, and no one felt the impact harder than Danika. She was forced to see, in the most brutal of ways, that love does not conquer all. Bruised, bloody, and broken she had to walk away.
THE AFTERMATH
Picking up the pieces of your life after a tragedy is a daunting prospect, and that’s considering you still own all of the pieces. But what if you don’t? What if someone else owns those pieces, and those pieces are a part of your soul?
You dig deep and work with what you’ve got.
That’s what Danika told herself and believed, every single day, for years.
Tristan and Danika’s love had failed every test that life had thrown at them. She couldn’t forget that, not for one second. And if those tests had been overly harsh, well, she wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity. The failure was the thing she had to focus on. The failure was the lesson. She had no intention of working so hard to make it out of hell without learning that lesson well.
THE REUNION
Over six years after the night that changed everything, Danika finds herself forced to spend the weekend constantly in Tristan’s company, as they attend the wedding of two of their dearest friends. It’s been long enough that she feels they can be friendly again without it destroying her peace of mind, but just a small amount of time in his presence has her remembering something she had forced herself to forget: There’d been a reason she’d gone through hell with this man, for this man, some true good to precede the bad.
She shocks herself by quickly giving in to a hunger that she never imagined could still consume her.
Even the best intentioned denial has a breaking point.
THE HARSH REALITY
After everything that’s happened, the rise and the fall, the pain and the aftermath, can these two navigate the waters of acute regret, survive the trials of coming face to face with all that they have lost, and find the strength to try again?
Bad Things (Bk 1) Teaser, Synopsis and Purchase Button TEASER
“Okay, that’s not happening again.” His voice was low and bordering on mean.
I was caught off guard. “What do you mean? Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“Of course I did. You saw that. But that isn’t happening again. I’d rather not get off at all than have you suffer through it, more concerned with impressing me than enjoying this. It’s not a fucking competition, Danika.”
That threw me for a loop, and I found myself blushing hotly.
“Okay, new ground rules,” he growled, dislodging me with two firm hands on my hips.
“New ground rules?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”
“No over-thinking this, first of all.”
I knew exactly what he meant. I had been more in my head than in the moment, and whether we were dancing, swimming, or having sex, he could always seem to tell.
“Okay. Fine. What else?” I squared my jaw as I said it.
“I’m in charge.”
“Excuse me?”
“Because I don’t want this to be calculated for you.”
“Fine. Then what do you want?”
“I want you to let go. I want you to submit. I want to make you lose your mind. I want you to be so far gone that the only word left in your vocabulary is my name."
 SYNOPSIS
Bad Things is about Tristan and Danika, and their train wreck of a love story. This series can be read as a standalone, but of course I recommend reading the Up in the Air trilogy, as well.
Danika hasn’t had an easy life. Being insanely attracted to bad boys has never helped make it easier.
One look at Tristan, and every brain cell she possessed went up in smoke. This man was trouble with a capital T. It was a given.
She knew better. Bad boys were bad. Especially for her. Considering her history, it was crazy to think otherwise. So why did crazy have to feel so damn fine?
For as long as she could remember, Danika had been focused on the future with single-minded purpose. Tristan came along and taught her everything there was to know about letting go, and living in the present. She fell, hard and deep. Of course, that only made her impact with the ground that much more devastating.
Rock Bottom (Bk 2) Teaser, Synopsis & Purchase Button TEASER
I kissed her, a blatant distraction from her train of thought. There was no way I could make that promise when her bruises hadn't even faded.
"You should never be scared for me, Danika."
We laid on the grass, side by side, hands clasped, in Bev's front yard as I told her haltingly about the boy I'd been, always too big, too strong for my own good.
Too good at fighting, too ready to fight, with too much to fight for, albeit futilely, with a mother I could never protect, because she didn't want protecting from the men that hurt her.
I shared that piece of myself, that huge piece that needed, above all things, to protect, because I hadn't been there to protect her when she'd needed me the most, though of course I hadn't known her then. It wasn't logical. It was a feeling, an undeniable sense of failure, because I've always failed the biggest tests when it came to sheltering the ones I loved.
There are things I needed to explain to her, about the girl she's been, the girl who'd needed a protector, and hadn't had one, and how she'd never be that girl again, because she had me, and I took my duty seriously.
It was why I went crazy when any man so much as looked at her shifty, I explained carefully. I couldn't regulate that part of myself. No anger management class in the world could convince me that there was a way I could keep her too safe.
That seemed to bring her peace, and her eyes closed, the gentlest smile transforming her lovely face, her hand laying quiet on my racing heart.
And that brought me peace, because she was my perfect girl, and as much as I needed to safeguard her, I needed what I had to give her just as desperately.
We lay on the front yard like silly teenagers, for minutes, for hours.
It was one of those slow moments in time, where things became clear, and parts of the past were brought to rest. I'd learned long ago that moments like these were few and far between, and I tried to remember everything.  SYNOPSIS
Their love had the power of a runaway freight train, and the potential to be just as destructive.
The tempestuous sequel to Bad Things picks up where the first book left off. Reeling from a profound loss, Tristan and Danika struggle to pick up the pieces and build a life together, but the hard habits of a lifetime are not so easy to escape.
Rock Bottom takes us on a dual point of view journey through addiction and desire, through love and agony, and answers the question we’ve been asking since these characters were introduced in Grounded: “What happened between Tristan and Danika?”
DANIKA
Even love couldn’t cushion a fall like ours. My love for Tristan was so big that I felt consumed by it, and even so, it was not enough to overpower our combined demons.
I struggled. I yelled and screamed. I scratched and kicked.
I fought like hell, but even the most determined fighters have to stop before they break.
No one could say I didn’t fight for him.
“I love you,” I spoke softly into his ear.
He gripped me harder. “I can’t ever lose you, Danika. I’m not sure I’d survive it.”
“You’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”
I meant the words when I said them, but life had other plans for us.
I’d have given my life for that fight. In fact, I very nearly did.
TRISTAN
She was the one.
If I’d ever had a doubt, I didn’t now. She was the one I’d be thinking about, longing for, until I took my last breath. If I lost her tomorrow, I’d pine for her like a lovesick fool.
This was the kind of love that only hit you once in your life.
Up in the Air series: In Flight, Mile High, & Grounded: James & Bianca's story
Lana is a spin-off of the Up in the Air series: Lana & Akira's Story
BAD THINGS by R.K Lilley is a spin-off novel from R.K. Lilley's sexy Up in the Air trilogy and this is Tristan and Danika's powerful, steamy, and emotional story. It's a Must Read if you are huge fans of anything R.K. Lilley like we are. If you love your BBFs hot as hell, very dirty and dominating, you will eat Tristan up! Read the teaser for just a little yummy taste.Plus, James "Mr. Beautiful" Cavendish makes several appearances and he is as swoony as ever! TEASER
“Okay, that’s not happening again.” His voice was low and bordering on mean.
I was caught off guard. “What do you mean? Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“Of course I did. You saw that. But that isn’t happening again. I’d rather not get off at all than have you suffer through it, more concerned with impressing me than enjoying this. It’s not a fucking competition, Danika.”
That threw me for a loop, and I found myself blushing hotly.
“Okay, new ground rules,” he growled, dislodging me with two firm hands on my hips.
“New ground rules?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”
“No over-thinking this, first of all.”
I knew exactly what he meant. I had been more in my head than in the moment, and whether we were dancing, swimming, or having sex, he could always seem to tell.
“Okay. Fine. What else?” I squared my jaw as I said it.
“I’m in charge.”
“Excuse me?”
“Because I don’t want this to be calculated for you.”
“Fine. Then what do you want?”
“I want you to let go. I want you to submit. I want to make you lose your mind. I want you to be so far gone that the only word left in your vocabulary is my name."
EXCERPT
I made my way to the living room, Dot dogging my steps. Mat was sitting on his kid-sized couch on the floor, Pupcake in his lap. He was staring in confusion across the room, and as I stepped into the room I saw why.
I padded quietly across the room, switching on the TV and finding a channel with some cartoons. Mat fixated on the television, and I walked quietly over to the shirtless hunk of a man that was sprawled out on the sofa. I was so fuzzy headed that I’d forgotten he was even crashing here.
He was lying on his back, a pillow pulled over his face, and another one draped over his lap. He’d completely kicked off his thin blanket. I could just make out that he was at least wearing boxer-briefs, which was good, but the rest of him was all tanned, bared, tattooed skin.
Not good, I thought, taking him in. I’d had no doubts that he would look good naked, and I certainly didn’t need to see just how good.
Even at rest, I could see the hard ridges in his abdomen. And his arms. Fuck. His arms were huge, which was kind of a thing for me. I thought they might have been bigger than my waist, and for sheerly perverse reasons, I wanted to measure them to see if I was right. And the tattoos…God, the tattoos. I didn’t have a bit of ink, but I loved his. He didn’t have full sleeves, like his brother, but he wasn’t too far off. His arms were covered with intricate designs, and it wasn’t all black, either. I loved all the color. It stood out startlingly against the other black ink, as though the black was just there to frame the color.
I told myself it was totally necessary as I reached out and touched his bare shoulder. I nudged him, and if I enjoyed the feel of his muscular flesh, what was the harm?
“Tristan,” I said quietly, nudging him again. My hand stayed there, and I tried to shake him a little, but he was too big for that…
He started, pulling the pillow off his eyes and blinking up at me. “Fuck, Danika, it’s early.”
“He said a bad word, boo!” Mat called out, clearly affronted.
“Fuck, sorry,” Tristan said, then winced.
I couldn’t hold back a grin. “You can use my bed to sleep it off. This living room is about to turn into a war zone, and I need to make some blueberry pancakes.”
“Is that what you want for breakfast?” he asked, sitting up.
I backed away like he was on fire. Which he kind of was…
“Huh?” I asked him, totally distracted by the sight of that perfect body, practically naked, and moving around. I went to the gym often, and I stayed in good shape myself, but I didn’t think I’d ever seen a body so perfect in my life.
He stood up, and I took another step back. He started to move around the couch, and something he was doing finally snapped me out of my trance.
“Why are you still holding a pillow over your lap?” I asked.
He sent me an wry smile, bending down to pick up his duffle bag, which he’d set behind the couch. “Can’t you guess? I’ll give you a hint; the first word is morning, and the second rhymes with hood.”
I blushed, feeling stupid. “Oh…Well, you can use my bathroom, and you can stash your bag in there, so it’s not in the way.”
“Okay. Thank you. Just give my five minutes, and I’ll cook breakfast for everybody.”
I waved him off. “Go back to bed. I’ve got it. I know you must be feeling rough.”
He sent me a rather stern look. “Give me five minutes. I said I’d cook for you. I’m cooking. And you have to be feeling just as rough.”
“I’m fine. I’ve got this.”
He pointed at me. “Don’t go near the kitchen until I get back.” He strode away, and I made a face at his retreating back, though I was secretly pleased, and still shamelessly checking him out. I’d seen what he could do with cookies. I wanted more.
Normally I just had a yogurt for breakfast, but hungover and hungry, I was already planning to indulge.
I sat down on the couch when I heard the shower in my bathroom turn on. There was plenty that I needed to do, but I just sat there for a solid five minutes, my mind on Tristan in the shower…
He was back out quickly, wearing a fresh white T-shirt and jeans, his short hair still wet from his shower.
“Come keep me company while I cook,” he said, tugging me up from the couch.
“So bossy,” I muttered.
He completely ignored that statement, pulling me into the kitchen. He cupped my hips, lifting me onto the counter exactly where I’d sat to watch him bake cookies.
He moved away before I could do more than gape at him.
“So Mat wants pancakes for breakfast. What do you want?”
I opened my mouth to tell him I’d just take that, but he spoke again. “I know you don’t want pancakes. We need something salty and greasy. Let me whip us up some hangover food.”
I had to make a conscious effort to close my mouth. “You read my mind,” I said.
He had the sheer gall to wink at me. “No. I’ve just been hungover enough to know just what to do. So tell me why Mat called you boo? Is that a nickname?”
“Yes.” I didn’t elaborate.
“That’s adorable,” he said opening the refrigerator and studying its contents. “Where did it come from?”
“I don’t remember when it turned into an actual nickname, but we used to play peekaboo a lot. He named himself peeka and me boo, and it stuck. Two years and counting.”
“Well, boo, how does bacon sound?”
“Bacon sounds great, but you can’t call me boo.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not a rapper, and I’m not your shorty.”
He laughed, a low, deep rumble that made muscles in my stomach tighten. “You’re just making me like the nickname more. Here’s the plan; buttery biscuits, scrambled eggs, bacon, and some hash browns. Oh, and some blueberry pancakes for the kids. Any objections?”
“That sounds amazing,” I said, meaning it. “But it’ll take forever.”
He shrugged. “It’ll take how long it takes. What’s the rush? You got a date?”
I sighed. He was stubborn, to be sure. “Can I help?”
“You can entertain me while I work.”
“If you have this handled, I should probably go work on some chores.”
“If you want bacon, you’ll keep your ass right where it is while I cook you breakfast.”
I did want bacon. “I can’t believe we stayed out that late,” I said, thinking back to the night before. I’d never stayed out that late dancing, and I’d never had a night fly by so fast.
“We going again tonight?”
“Are you joking?” I asked.
“No. Didn’t you have fun? Let’s do it again.”
“You’re batshit bonkers.”
“Sure am. And I want to take you dancing again. What do you say?”
“We barely got three hours of sleep last night.”
“So we’ll take turns getting naps in later, if the kids need watching. What do you say?”
He was giving me his most irresistible smile, his dimples making me want to slap and/or kiss him senseless. I held out for maybe five seconds before I was smiling back at him.
“No funny business,” I told him.
“No funny business,” he agreed. “I took care of that in the shower. Should tide me over for a solid two hours.”
I blushed. I hadn’t even known I had any blushes left in me. “What happens after two hours?”
He stopped what he was doing, setting an egg down to give me his full attention.
He gave me a once-over that was borderline indecent, then went back to cracking eggs. “I might need to take another shower.”
That shut me up for awhile. I watched him work, studying the myriad tattoos on his arms, and the ones that showed through his white T-shirt. As he mixed the pancake batter, the stark muscles in his arms working, I thought that I’d found my new favorite hobby; watching Tristan cook anything at all.
“Bev has this really great frilly pink apron,” I told him. “What would I have to do to get you to wear it while you cook for me?”
“You don’t even want to know, boo,” he said.
That effectively shut me up for a while.
Within ten minutes he had the kitchen smelling divine. I moaned as the aroma of sizzling bacon reached me.
His gaze flicked to me, then quickly away. “Tease,” he muttered.
He had the pancakes done first, prepping a heaping plate for Mat.
“You realize that he’s six, right?” I asked, eyeing up the huge plate.
“Does he like bacon?” he asked, ignoring my comment.
“Yes!” Mat shouted from the living room.
Tristan handed off the plate, and I brought it to Mat in the living room.
By the time I got back into the kitchen Tristan had a biscuit breakfast sandwich waiting for me. He handed it to me with a paper towel, then took a huge bite out of his own.
The smell of the eggs and bacon had me salivating, and I tore into the sandwich. I had to close my eyes with the first bite, chewing very slowly to savor every second of it.
“What do you do to food to make it taste this good?” I moaned.
I opened my eyes when he didn’t answer me. He was staring at me with a look in his eyes that made my toes start to curl.
He set down the uneaten half of his sandwich, striding out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I called to him.
“I’ll be back in five minutes,” he called back.
I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or appalled when I heard my shower turning on.
 SYNOPSIS
Bad Things is about Tristan and Danika, and their train wreck of a love story. This series can be read as a standalone, but of course I recommend reading the Up in the Air trilogy, as well.
Danika hasn’t had an easy life. Being insanely attracted to bad boys has never helped make it easier.
One look at Tristan, and every brain cell she possessed went up in smoke. This man was trouble with a capital T. It was a given.
She knew better. Bad boys were bad. Especially for her. Considering her history, it was crazy to think otherwise. So why did crazy have to feel so damn fine?
For as long as she could remember, Danika had been focused on the future with single-minded purpose. Tristan came along and taught her everything there was to know about letting go, and living in the present. She fell, hard and deep. Of course, that only made her impact with the ground that much more devastating.
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