Hi peeps, we have A.J. Llewellyn stopping by with his upcoming release Laid 3, we have a great excerpt and a brilliant giveaway, so enjoy the post and click that giveaway link <3 ~Pixie~
Supercop Jack Cannon’s met the man of his dreams and isn’t about to give up loving Lucky… even when the man is marked for death.
LAPD Swat team member, Jack Cannon, takes on an unusual assignment, Threat Management, a new crack team created to target LA’s most violent criminals, The Hollywood Ten. Then… Jack is shot and forced to take a vacation. He flies to London to spend time with his hot and sexy lover, Lucky, in London.
Jack’s man is working on an undercover assignment. Jack’s plans for a feisty little R and R don’t sit well with the hit man who’s been hired by a mysterious source to bump off Lucky.
With things heating up between Jack and Lucky all over London from public restrooms to five-star hotels, Jack lures the wild assassin into their sensual web. This is either gonna be the beginnings of a spicy, feisty threesome… or a triple homicide.
“I see someone in the driver’s seat,” one of the bad guys said. They sounded very far away. It was the bulletproof glass.
Where the fuck is Zuniga?
I pulled out my phone again, texting for backup, I hated having to do it in the middle of a job but I wasn’t going to be much use to the mission if I was shot full of holes. I wasn’t invincible as much as I liked to pretend to myself that I was.
I couldn’t play cowboy and take on these pistol-packing peanuts alone. Or could I? Go down in a blaze of glory? I didn’t want a life without Lucky. They’d be doing me a big fucking favor if they shot me.
The message came back. Stay where you are. Don’t move.
“He’s texting! He’s texting!” one of the little assholes outside yelled.
“Shoot him!” the guy beside me said. I heard the one sound I didn’t want to hear. A gunshot. It bounced off the passenger window.
They started to rock the SUV back and forth.
Where the fuck is my backup?
I drew my gun out of the holster as I heard the second sound I absolutely did not want to hear. My door releasing.
I was ready for the little shit and shot him from my left hand, clear in the chest with my new, handy-dandy, state-of-the art, gazillion-watt Taser X26C gun. His eyes rolled up like escalator stairs and he flew back, billowing out on the ground, twitching with the force of the electro-magnetic impulse.
“Motherfucker!” his friends yelled. They ran toward the front, shooting away at me. I blasted back, getting one little fucker in the shoulder with my state-issue .32, with my right hand. The third little bastard screamed at me. What an asshole.
He jumped over his friend’s writhing body and popped off a couple of shots. One hit the driver’s door. As he neared me, I closed the door toward me and whumped him as he tried to yank at it. It smacked him in the face and I heard a satisfying crunch of bones. I let him have a little Taser juice just because I felt like it. He was on his knees calling me a pig and a honky.
I closed and locked my door.
We’d been had.
How did he know I was a pig? And calling me a honky? He was like something out of a seventies’ blaxploitation movie.
I called my supervising unit. Nobody responded. I had three prone assholes outside and an even bigger problem on my hands. Somebody had ambushed us. Keeping my eyes on the road, I realized there’d been no traffic passing by me during the entire encounter with the three guys still sprawled on the ground.
Calling 9-1-1 was supposed to be my last resort but as far as I knew, my partner had been ambushed and the supervising unit was out of commission.
My cell phone rang. I prayed it wouldn’t be Lucky.
A.J. Llewellyn’s obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading and dreaming up new worlds. A.J. has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 200 published gay erotic romance novels.
A.J. wants you to read them all. A.J. can be found lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Pearl’s Peril and Farm Heroes Saga.