Title:
Strike (Spark, #3)
Release
Date: August 30, 2014
Elz Has Her Say
4.5 STAR REVIEW
Well Jones (Spencer) was certainly a surprise, well done Jennifer Ryder and flooring me completely with one hell of a sweet romantic guy.
Jennifer Ryder gives one hell of an amazing read with Strike, everything you think you know about Jones is blown to pieces, he meets April by chance and falls... Falls hard, she teaches him that things worth having are worth putting the work and effort into.
April just wants to love and be loved... She's been burned in the past so any man is going to have to do some leg work, this results in Spencer having the worst case of blue balls in the world, but he'd do anything for us girl even die a slow painful death.
Well done Jennifer Ryder for an engaging, charming, romantic, funny read. Ask thank you for giving us a little more Aidan always a bonus having more Aidan.
Fast. That’s how I like life, especially my two
great joys: bikes and women. I’m committed to
exclusively riding one, but not the other.
Until April.
A
sexy-arse freelance photographer who’s travelled the world, and
doesn’t do long walks on the beach or romantic candlelit dinners.
She enjoys running with the bulls and food spicy enough to make your
hair fall out. If that weren’t enough to get me hard, she rides a
mean mother of a motorcycle.
I’ve gotta have a taste of this wildcat.
I
don’t do fast. Not anymore. I’ve got my career, my independence,
and since I fled Spain to come back home I promised myself that I
wouldn’t be put second—or third, for that matter—again.
Then I meet pretty boy Spencer.
He’s smooth, oozing the most potent pheromones
probably known to modern science, and he’s making a move on me. One
kiss was almost enough for my promise to dissolve.
My head says no—my treacherous body screams yes.
I’m gonna make Spencer work for it. Make him fight for the chance
to have me, because I know that deep down I’m worth it.
My head pounds, alerting me to the fact that I’m
alive. Barely. I run my hand over my bare chest to find a set of
fingers clad with rings. The hand tightens, sharp nails scratching my
skin as they sweep over my ribs. I shudder with the realisation that
she’s still here. That was not part of the plan.
Her hand continues over to my hipbone, and curls
around my side. I turn to see her face buried in the pillow beside
me, a cascade of fiery red curls tangled down her back, a strong
contrast to her pale skin.
I
strain to lift my head off the pillow, and there he is. Ryan. On the
far edge of my king-sized bed, face down, bare arse and all.
I’m here again. My life on repeat.
My liver screams out its hate for me, and my body
aches in silent protest. And why the fuck is my arse sore?
I
wriggle to release myself from her hold.
I
don’t like them to stay, but Ryan and I were obviously too
fucked-up to care. I must’ve passed out, because normally I deal
with their exit.
I
don’t do mornings. I don’t do awkward. I like simple hook-ups,
and then “see ya”; No expectations, no complications.
This here looks complicated.
Walking naked across my bedroom, the floor littered
with condom wrappers and clothes, I pick up a rogue black leather
shoe and throw it at Ryan’s arse.
He chokes on his snore, and stirs. “Hey, what the
fuck, man?” He rolls over, thankfully tugging the tangled sheets
with him to shield his dick. I don’t need a vision of his giant
cock in the back of my head today.
“What’s up is that you and Princess Redhead
need to leave, buddy. I gotta get to work,” I whisper loudly.
Working for Dad today is totally gonna blow.
Ryan swings his legs off the bed, and stretches his
arms over his head. “Well, you never fail to disappoint, man. Guess
I’ll catch ya next time I’m in town.”
I
take a white crumpled towel that I must have left on the floor
yesterday and wrap it around my hips. “That depends, mate. If
you’re the reason my arse is sore, then this was the last time. Oh,
and you might just get the shit kicked out of you.”
He chuckles quietly to himself. “You don’t
remember?” He grabs his jeans from the floor in front of him, and
slips them on.
“Remember what?” Oh no. Ryan did not go there.
I’ll kill him. On instinct, my teeth grind against each other, and
I breathe out heavily through my nose as I stalk towards him.
He holds up a hand. “Relax,” he says, as he
juts his chin towards the redhead. “Miss Ginger Sex Fiend over
there brought toys.”
“Fuck,” I gasp. I’ve seriously gotta lay off
the drink.
“Now, get outta here. I’ll take care of
Ginger.” Ryan winks, and runs his hands through his mussed up
sandy-coloured hair.
Yeah. I need to get to work.
New
Adult and erotic romance writer, and author of the Spark series.
A sexy imagination, a life-long love of books and a
sucker for romance, Jennifer Ryder couldn't stifle her creativity any
longer.
Writing steamy adult romance has become her new
focus. Living on a rural property in New South Wales, Australia, she
enjoys the best of city and country.
Her loving husband is ever
willing to provide inspiration, and her two young cherubs, and sheep
that don't see fences as barriers, keep life more than
interesting.
Jennifer placed third in the
International Stringybark Erotic Short Fiction Award 2013.