We're thrilled to spotlight The Kane Trilogy by Stylo Fantôme, a new Rock Stars of Romance author!
You know that feeling when you first start a new book, within a few pages you get that feeling, that pounding in your heart and that tingle in your gut, and you just know it's going to be amazing... that's what I experienced the moment I started reading Degradation, and wow, what an insane, relentlessly dysfunctional and impossibly addictive series! I dare anyone to read the first chapter and not be sucked into the roller coaster ride of this high drama and ridiculously steamy trilogy. It's has everything. One of the dirtiest, filthiest talking, complete asshole alpha that you will fall completely in lust and love over. A strong, sassy, complex and broken heroine. And one of the most compelling secondary characters.... #TeamSander (I NEED the t-shirt).
Don't take our word for it, read a smoking hot excerpt from Degradation, Book 1, and enter the steamy and twisted world of Jameson and Tate. Plus, enter to win a Signed Paperback Set of the entire Trilogy! Enjoy and Good Luck!
You know that feeling when you first start a new book, within a few pages you get that feeling, that pounding in your heart and that tingle in your gut, and you just know it's going to be amazing... that's what I experienced the moment I started reading Degradation, and wow, what an insane, relentlessly dysfunctional and impossibly addictive series! I dare anyone to read the first chapter and not be sucked into the roller coaster ride of this high drama and ridiculously steamy trilogy. It's has everything. One of the dirtiest, filthiest talking, complete asshole alpha that you will fall completely in lust and love over. A strong, sassy, complex and broken heroine. And one of the most compelling secondary characters.... #TeamSander (I NEED the t-shirt).
Don't take our word for it, read a smoking hot excerpt from Degradation, Book 1, and enter the steamy and twisted world of Jameson and Tate. Plus, enter to win a Signed Paperback Set of the entire Trilogy! Enjoy and Good Luck!
"There aren't enough men in the world to fuck Jameson Kane out of my memory."
- Reparation by Stylo Fantôme
Degradation Excerpt: Meet Jameson and Tate
“Stop talking. I came to dinner. I win. I get to extract payment,” Jameson said.
With an abrupt shove, he pushed her to the side. Tate fell against the dresser, catching herself with her hands before she could face plant on the wood. She went to push herself up, but his hand pressed down on the center of her back, holding her in place.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Whatever I want. You said you trust me,” he pointed out, and she felt his other hand brush against the fabric of her skirt.
“I do, but I don't want to have sex in my friend's bedroom,” Tate told him with a laugh.
“Why not? And what makes you think we're going to fuck?”
“Um, I was in a similar position last week, and you fucked the hell out of me, that makes me think we're going to fuck. And I don't want to be disrespectful. This is her house, her party; she thinks I'm laying down with a migraine. The door is open, anyone can see us,” she told him.
“You're shy, Tate?” Jameson laughed. She snorted.
“No, but as I've been saying, these are my friends. I don't want to -,” she stopped talking as he lifted her skirt up. It was long and flowy, went to just past her knees. He draped the material over her back.
“I'm not going to fuck you. That would be giving you a treat. You've been very bad. I'm going to do whatever I want,” he informed her, and she could feel her underwear sliding off of her butt.
Her argument caught in her throat. Lifting her head up off the dresser, she was facing the door – she could see down the hall. The living room was just to the right, and she could see the edges of a couple peoples backs. It was dark in the bedroom, and she and Jameson were towards the back of it. If anyone turned around, they probably wouldn't be able to see anything. But if anyone came down the hallway ..., not good. She took a deep breath.
“Jameson, I don't think we should do this,” she started, but then ended in a gasp as two of his fingers slid inside of her.
She wasn't sure how this wasn't giving her a treat. He wasn't getting anything out of it, he was standing just enough back from her that she couldn't even reach him. She swallowed a groan and bit in to a table runner that covered the length of the dresser. He hooked his fingers a little, almost massaging her insides.
“Don't hear any arguing now,” Jameson's voice was dark behind her. Tate shook her head.
“We shouldn't ..., do this,” she whispered, though her words had no conviction.
“You want this. Say stop, and I'll stop.”
She pressed her lips together and hummed softly. Bit her tongue. Anything to keep from crying out. His other hand grabbed onto her hip and pulled her back a couple inches, enough so he could work his arm between her and the dresser. She made a high pitched squeaking noise when that hand reached her front. Dipped in to wetness. Spun her in to outer space.
“Jameson,” she whispered his name, almost a moan.
“You're awfully ready to play for someone who says she doesn't want to do this,” he pointed out, and she laughed.
“You started it, in the car. Mean man,” she joked, and then really did moan. She flicked her eyes to the door. No one seemed to have heard her.
“Always mean. Remember that. Jesus, Tate, how are you still so tight? All these years, and you're still the tightest pussy I've ever had,” he groaned, working his fingers faster.
“Kegels. Every day,” she replied, and then had to bite down on the runner again. She clawed her nails down Rachel's dresser.
“God, talk about being disrespectul. What about you is respectful, Tate? Your slutty mouth? Or your wide open legs? I'd only been back in your life for two days, and you fucked me. Easy fucking girl. Did Angier get it that easy?” Jameson asked. She knew he wasn't, but he sounded like a jealous lover. It drove her wild.
“Easier,” she lied. His fingers were working on her so fast, she felt like she was being cut in half. Two Tatums. Which one would he want? She was pushing back against him, pushing for the edge, for the orgasm. It was very close.
“Fucking bitch,” he swore.
“You shouldn't be surprised.”
“What am I going to do with you? Fucking slut. Fucked him while I was gone. Couldn't last three days. How much does it take to satisfy you?” Jameson demanded.
Maybe he is jealous ...
“Maybe more than you've got,” she taunted in a breathy voice, gasping for air.
He pulled away and yanked her back from the dresser. She waited for the swearing, the crushing fingers, the angry mouth. But none of that happened. He backed her up, pressed her butt against the dresser and her front to his chest. She looked up at him, breathing heavy, rubbing her thighs together.
“If you are very good, when we get home, I will let you finish this,” he told her, smoothing his hands over her hair.
“Huh?” she asked, dumbfounded. He smirked down at her.
“That's all you get, baby girl. You'll learn not to push me,” he whispered, before leaning down and kissing her.
Tate moaned and wrapped her arms around his waist, held him to her. She loved the way Jameson kissed. For an aggressive guy, sometimes he could be very gentle with his mouth. His lips moved over hers, his tongue against hers, quiet and soft. It made her heart flutter. She sighed and ran her hands down to his pants, ran her fingers along his belt, began pulling at the buckle. But then he pulled away, so fast she actually stumbled. He patted her cheek and then strode out of the room.
What. The. Fuck.
With an abrupt shove, he pushed her to the side. Tate fell against the dresser, catching herself with her hands before she could face plant on the wood. She went to push herself up, but his hand pressed down on the center of her back, holding her in place.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Whatever I want. You said you trust me,” he pointed out, and she felt his other hand brush against the fabric of her skirt.
“I do, but I don't want to have sex in my friend's bedroom,” Tate told him with a laugh.
“Why not? And what makes you think we're going to fuck?”
“Um, I was in a similar position last week, and you fucked the hell out of me, that makes me think we're going to fuck. And I don't want to be disrespectful. This is her house, her party; she thinks I'm laying down with a migraine. The door is open, anyone can see us,” she told him.
“You're shy, Tate?” Jameson laughed. She snorted.
“No, but as I've been saying, these are my friends. I don't want to -,” she stopped talking as he lifted her skirt up. It was long and flowy, went to just past her knees. He draped the material over her back.
“I'm not going to fuck you. That would be giving you a treat. You've been very bad. I'm going to do whatever I want,” he informed her, and she could feel her underwear sliding off of her butt.
Her argument caught in her throat. Lifting her head up off the dresser, she was facing the door – she could see down the hall. The living room was just to the right, and she could see the edges of a couple peoples backs. It was dark in the bedroom, and she and Jameson were towards the back of it. If anyone turned around, they probably wouldn't be able to see anything. But if anyone came down the hallway ..., not good. She took a deep breath.
“Jameson, I don't think we should do this,” she started, but then ended in a gasp as two of his fingers slid inside of her.
She wasn't sure how this wasn't giving her a treat. He wasn't getting anything out of it, he was standing just enough back from her that she couldn't even reach him. She swallowed a groan and bit in to a table runner that covered the length of the dresser. He hooked his fingers a little, almost massaging her insides.
“Don't hear any arguing now,” Jameson's voice was dark behind her. Tate shook her head.
“We shouldn't ..., do this,” she whispered, though her words had no conviction.
“You want this. Say stop, and I'll stop.”
She pressed her lips together and hummed softly. Bit her tongue. Anything to keep from crying out. His other hand grabbed onto her hip and pulled her back a couple inches, enough so he could work his arm between her and the dresser. She made a high pitched squeaking noise when that hand reached her front. Dipped in to wetness. Spun her in to outer space.
“Jameson,” she whispered his name, almost a moan.
“You're awfully ready to play for someone who says she doesn't want to do this,” he pointed out, and she laughed.
“You started it, in the car. Mean man,” she joked, and then really did moan. She flicked her eyes to the door. No one seemed to have heard her.
“Always mean. Remember that. Jesus, Tate, how are you still so tight? All these years, and you're still the tightest pussy I've ever had,” he groaned, working his fingers faster.
“Kegels. Every day,” she replied, and then had to bite down on the runner again. She clawed her nails down Rachel's dresser.
“God, talk about being disrespectul. What about you is respectful, Tate? Your slutty mouth? Or your wide open legs? I'd only been back in your life for two days, and you fucked me. Easy fucking girl. Did Angier get it that easy?” Jameson asked. She knew he wasn't, but he sounded like a jealous lover. It drove her wild.
“Easier,” she lied. His fingers were working on her so fast, she felt like she was being cut in half. Two Tatums. Which one would he want? She was pushing back against him, pushing for the edge, for the orgasm. It was very close.
“Fucking bitch,” he swore.
“You shouldn't be surprised.”
“What am I going to do with you? Fucking slut. Fucked him while I was gone. Couldn't last three days. How much does it take to satisfy you?” Jameson demanded.
Maybe he is jealous ...
“Maybe more than you've got,” she taunted in a breathy voice, gasping for air.
He pulled away and yanked her back from the dresser. She waited for the swearing, the crushing fingers, the angry mouth. But none of that happened. He backed her up, pressed her butt against the dresser and her front to his chest. She looked up at him, breathing heavy, rubbing her thighs together.
“If you are very good, when we get home, I will let you finish this,” he told her, smoothing his hands over her hair.
“Huh?” she asked, dumbfounded. He smirked down at her.
“That's all you get, baby girl. You'll learn not to push me,” he whispered, before leaning down and kissing her.
Tate moaned and wrapped her arms around his waist, held him to her. She loved the way Jameson kissed. For an aggressive guy, sometimes he could be very gentle with his mouth. His lips moved over hers, his tongue against hers, quiet and soft. It made her heart flutter. She sighed and ran her hands down to his pants, ran her fingers along his belt, began pulling at the buckle. But then he pulled away, so fast she actually stumbled. He patted her cheek and then strode out of the room.
What. The. Fuck.
Sizzling Teasers: More Jameson, Tate, and Sander
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The Kane Trilogy Reading Order
Each book is only $1.99
Degradation, Book 1, Synopsis and Purchase Link
Eighteen year old Tatum O'Shea is a naive, shy, little rich girl. Twenty-three year old Jameson Kane is smart, seductive, and richer. They come together for one night, one explosion, one mistake, and Tate is hurled into space – no family, no money, and no Jameson.
Seven years later, life is going pretty good for Tate, when she runs into Jameson again. This time, she thinks she's ready for him. She doesn't have a naive bone left in her body, and she can't even remember what shy feels like. Jameson has evolved into Satan – sharp teeth, sharper claws, and a tongue that can cut her in half. It all sounds like fun to a girl like Tate, and she is ready to play, determined to prove that she isn't the same girl he conquered once before. A series of games start, each one more devious than the last.
But the devil likes to play dirty, and she learns that playing for souls is playing for keeps. The lines between games and reality, heaven and hell, get blurry. Can she beat Jameson at his own game before someone gets hurt? Or will he leave her soulless, making him the winner, once and for all?
Seven years later, life is going pretty good for Tate, when she runs into Jameson again. This time, she thinks she's ready for him. She doesn't have a naive bone left in her body, and she can't even remember what shy feels like. Jameson has evolved into Satan – sharp teeth, sharper claws, and a tongue that can cut her in half. It all sounds like fun to a girl like Tate, and she is ready to play, determined to prove that she isn't the same girl he conquered once before. A series of games start, each one more devious than the last.
But the devil likes to play dirty, and she learns that playing for souls is playing for keeps. The lines between games and reality, heaven and hell, get blurry. Can she beat Jameson at his own game before someone gets hurt? Or will he leave her soulless, making him the winner, once and for all?
“I have no problem admitting that you are still, to this day,
probably the hottest pussy I've ever had,” he said, his voice casual.
- Degradation by Stylo Fantôme
Separation, Book 2, Synopsis and Purchase Link
Everything is fun and games until someone gets hurt, and what Jameson Kane did to Tatum O'Shea goes so far beyond hurt, he is well into the realm of unforgivable. Tate says she wants him gone for good, and he quickly learns that the old saying, “you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone”, is most definitely true.
But Jameson has never been very good at following instructions, and when Satan decides to seek redemption, he'll go to great lengths to get it. He proposes one last game – one to end them all, if she agrees to play. He is very confident that he can win, but Tate warns him that it's not possible; she will not lose again. Little does she know, Jameson is prepared to do whatever it takes. Prepared to lay the entire world at her feet. Prepared to bear his soul.
What he didn't count on, though, was handing the damn thing over.
Now Jameson can only pray that his evil ways haven't rubbed off on Tate too much. Sometimes, it's very difficult to tell who the Devil really is …
But Jameson has never been very good at following instructions, and when Satan decides to seek redemption, he'll go to great lengths to get it. He proposes one last game – one to end them all, if she agrees to play. He is very confident that he can win, but Tate warns him that it's not possible; she will not lose again. Little does she know, Jameson is prepared to do whatever it takes. Prepared to lay the entire world at her feet. Prepared to bear his soul.
What he didn't count on, though, was handing the damn thing over.
Now Jameson can only pray that his evil ways haven't rubbed off on Tate too much. Sometimes, it's very difficult to tell who the Devil really is …
"Seven years ago, she had occupied his fantasies. Now all this time later, she occupied his mind. His heart."
- Separation by Stylo Fantôme
Reparation, Book 3, Synopsis and Purchase Link
When Tatum O'Shea decides it's time for some payback, no one is safe from her new game - not even the devil himself. Tate is going to get her happily every after, even if it means making everyone else unhappy in the process.
But a persistent Jameson, a meddling Sanders, and an amorous baseball player make it very hard for a girl to keep her focus, and suddenly it seems Tate has a few too many suitors for her fairy tale ending.
Sometimes, it's very difficult to tell who Prince Charming really is ...
But a persistent Jameson, a meddling Sanders, and an amorous baseball player make it very hard for a girl to keep her focus, and suddenly it seems Tate has a few too many suitors for her fairy tale ending.
Sometimes, it's very difficult to tell who Prince Charming really is ...
"I made this pussy. It has belonged to me for the last seven years."
- Reparation by Stylo Fantôme
Author Bio: Meet the Fabulous Stylo Fantôme
Crazy woman living in an undisclosed location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a necessity!), I have been writing since ... forever? Yeah, that sounds about right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball - I also see shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I'm clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don't trust anyone
who doesn't drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there's your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair - both a curse and a blessing - and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can't understand me.
Yeah. I think that about sums me up.
Stalk Stylo: Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | TRSoR Author Page
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don't trust anyone
who doesn't drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there's your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair - both a curse and a blessing - and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can't understand me.
Yeah. I think that about sums me up.
Stalk Stylo: Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | TRSoR Author Page