Release Blast for HIDDEN HEAT by Carla Swafford

Sizzling with passion and suspense, perfect for fans of Joanna Wylde and Julie Ann Walker, the Brothers of Mayhem series revs up as a headstrong beauty faces off against an outlaw motorcycle club—and falls for the bad boy she never saw coming.

Cassidy Ryder refuses to be intimidated by anyone, even the hell-raising, hard-drinking Brothers of Mayhem. The daughter of their former president, she’s not above smashing a few heads to keep her teenage brother safe. But when Cassidy’s big mouth gets her in trouble, the only thing that saves her is some quick thinking from the Brothers’ bartender. He’s commanding and strong, and as smooth as the whiskey he pours: the ultimate temptation for a girl who swore she’d never be a biker’s plaything.

But Thorn Savalas is no ordinary biker. He’s a cop, and he’s worked too hard earning the Brothers’ trust to blow his cover over a female—even one who rocks a pair of jeans like Cassidy. The only way to protect her is by claiming she’s his old lady. Trouble is, Thorn can’t just pretend. He wants Cassidy, and every scorching touch tells him she feels the same. But acting on their hottest fantasies could leave them both exposed . . . even if nothing else has ever felt so real.

Includes a special message from the editor, as well as an excerpt from another Loveswept title.

219 Pgs. |Heat: 3| Amazon | B & N | Google PlayiTunes | Kobo

Carla Swafford loves romance novels, action/adventure movies, and men, and her books reflect that. She’s married to her high school sweetheart and lives in Alabama.

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Cassidy Ryder swung the bat, testing the weight and reach, as she marched around the line of motorcycles. Wrinkling her nose, she ignored the sharp, pungent smell of marijuana drifting across her path.

Huddled in the shade beneath the building’s eaves, men with greasy hair and beards puffed on tightly rolled joints and eyed her with mild curiosity. As long as she stayed away from their well-loved bikes, they’d let her move on without interference.

Her body trembled with suppressed fury. She almost wished they’d try to stop her. Anything to give her a reason to release the pressure building inside. With a snort of derision, she straightened her back and stalked into the Skull and Bones Bar.

The thumping beat of Kid Rock blasted from the speakers, competing with the rowdy conversations shaking the large, smoky room. Though mostly rural, Sand County had a law against smoking in any public establishment. In pure defiance, a blue-gray haze hovered around the dim bulbs spotlighting the long shelves of liquor and above two pool tables in the back.

She hesitated. Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she ignored the tall, lanky bartender strolling along behind the counter and heading her way. The rest of the crowd ignored her entrance. Did they often see people carrying a bat into the place?

She didn’t care. Time for someone to listen to her.

With a swing of her whole body, she brought the bat down, sweeping several glasses from the long bar. The loud pops and tinkling of broken glasses immediately quieted the room just as Kid’s “American Bad Ass” faded out. Several of the leather-and-denim clad men stood and stepped toward her.

She lifted the bat for another swing.

“Damn it to hell! Wait!” The bartender slid over the top of the counter to stand in front of her. “What the hell are you doing?”

Speaking of badass, with his broad shoulders and tats down both arms, he’d draw anyone’s attention just by entering a room. But add in the dark hair cut tight on the sides, long on top and brushed back to his nape, he especially caught the eye of every woman in the place. She’d noticed too, but she had more important things on her mind.

Her arm muscles tensed as she pulled her weapon higher over her shoulder.

He stopped a bat length away and raised his hands. “Cassidy . . .” He hesitated as if he waited for her reaction to the name. Was she that forgettable? She’d been there several times over the last month, to drag her brother back home. When her eyes narrowed, he continued. “Whatever has you riled up, can we talk about it?”

Emphasizing each word, she pointed the bat as if it were a finger. “I came in here yesterday and asked, real polite, if you or anyone here had seen my brother. Each one of you looked me in the face and lied. This morning, I get a call, telling me he was seen yesterday, hanging out back, talking with Stonewall.” She glanced around, keeping the bartender in her peripheral view. “Where’s the bastard? I want answers about my brother’s whereabouts.” Proud of how her voice remained even and carried across the room, she jutted out her chin. What would they lie about next?

The Brothers of Mayhem Motorcycle Club never took kindly to threats. She didn’t care. Violence was the only way they would respect her, and she was prepared to do more, if that’s what it took to bring her little brother back home. Storm had never stayed gone this long.

“Put the bat down before you get hurt.” The bartender’s soft command sounded so reasonable.

Screw reasonable. She’d been fair and understanding for the last three days while she searched for Storm. Her patience had disappeared with the only member of her family worth a damn. No way would she fail him again.

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