Meghan March's Blog

I have an exclusive cover reveal happening on Frolic today! I'm sharing the cover for the third and final book in my Forge Trilogy, HEART OF THE DEVIL.

Pop over to Frolic for the grand reveal!

Heart of the Devil releases on Mar 12, 2019!Heart of the Devil

The. Devil. Is. HERE!

Brought to you by New York Times bestselling author Meghan March, Deal with
the Devil is the story of ruthless, calculating billionaire Jericho Forge.
Fans everywhere have been awaiting the arrival of Jericho Forge. A cross between two of
March’s fan-favorite alphas (Lachlan Mount of Ruthless King and Creighton Karas of
Dirty Billionaire), Forge will be brought to his knees by the clever and stunning heroine,
India Baptiste.
“You can put that man in a suit, but he’ll never be tame.”
One look at Jericho Forge and I knew the rumors were true. He was a predator, and he had set
his sights on me.
I knew better than to bet more than I could afford to lose that night. I knew better than to bet
myself. But desperation leads to bad decisions, and I thought there was no way I could lose.
I was wrong.
Now I have no choice but to make a deal with the devil.
CLICK HERE to make a deal with the devil. Available on all your favorite retailers
TODAY!
Jericho and India’s story continues in Luck of the Devil (coming 2.2.19) and concludes in
Heart of the Devil (coming 3.12.19).

I am so excited to share the cover of the first book in my brand-new series!

Deal with the Devil is book #1 in the Forge Trilogy. Our heroine, India Baptiste, finds herself in a predicament that forces her to make a deal with the devil—that is, shipping tycoon, Jericho Forge.

“You can put that man in a suit, but he’ll never be tame.”
One look at Jericho Forge and I knew the rumors were true. He was a predator, and he had set his sights on me.
I knew better than to bet more than I could afford to lose that night. I knew better than to bet myself. But desperation leads to bad decisions, and I thought there was no way I could lose.
I was wrong.
Now I have no choice but to make a deal with the devil.

Deal with the Devil is coming your way January 15th. Be sure to add it to your TBR list today!

Reveling in Sin is live! You can settle in and binge-read the entire Sin Trilogy. Lincoln and Whitney have a crazy, roller coaster of a twisted ride to get to their happily ever after. I hope you enjoy their journey. I know I had a blast writing it for you!

REVELING IN SIN is available now!
Get yours today!
Apple Books ⇢ https://apple.co/2NgM1nd
Amazon US ⇢ https://amzn.to/2uTnUDv
Amazon UK ⇢ https://amzn.to/2LqhfuP
Kobo ⇢ http://bit.ly/2tLYhnA
BN ⇢ http://bit.ly/2lKS1YX

Check out this new group I’m part of and join us! TASTE OF ROMANCE is a group of twelve New York Times & USA Today bestselling authors who want to get to know their readers. Each month, members receive a FREE EBOOK from one of our moderator-authors and have a chance to ask questions and chat with the featured author! Please join us in the new group. We can’t wait to get to know you better!

JOIN NOW HERE: http://smarturl.it/y015vg

IT’S MY MOST FAVORITE COVER REVEAL DAY OF ALL TIME!!!
SAVAGE PRINCE’S cover is finally here!!!!! What do you think????



This cover is special to me for many reasons—including how freaking gorgeous it is—but most especially because the man on the front is my biggest supporter. My #1 fan. My rock. My inspiration. My everything.

I hope you love this cover as much as I do!!!! And the book…. HOLY FREAKING HELL. This story is taking me on the most wild ride of my life. IT. IS. EVERYTHING. I can’t wait for you to have it on March 27!!! BUT, you can preorder today so you don’t miss it!

____________________________________________

Preorder here:

iBooks ⇢ http://bit.ly/Savage-Prince
Amazon US ⇢ http://amzn.to/2BJO6B9
Amazon UK ⇢ http://amzn.to/2AVyUog
Amazon AU ⇢ http://amzn.to/2kqkFRz
BN ⇢ http://bit.ly/2BPZVai
Kobo ⇢ http://bit.ly/2AdIXWm

Audio lovers:
Audible ⇢ http://adbl.co/2GBKYuJ
Downpour ⇢ http://bit.ly/2s0VVD0
Amazon Audio ⇢ http://amzn.to/2DV6iKg

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About Savage Prince:
Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet.

I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own.
I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me.
Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third.
My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t.
But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet.
I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness.
Hopefully it doesn’t kill us both.

Savage Prince is book one of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King, however you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot new story.

Savage Prince

The meeting won't end. Two top cartel leaders vying for power in my city sit on the opposite side of my desk. They've been arguing all evening, and I've let them.

Anywhere else, this would end in bloodshed, if they would have even agreed to be present in the same room, but they wouldn't dare here. If they want to do business in New Orleans, they go through me or not at all.

I already know what deal will be sealed before they leave the room because I decided yesterday. I don't care that the Mexicans think they're all powerful. In my city, there is only one king, and that's me.

Rule with fear, but gain respect through actions.
That's what I've done for almost twenty years since that piece of wisdom was imparted upon me by a dying cartel jefe the CIA set up for retirement in New Orleans. He also sparked the fire in my veins that resulted in me seizing control of an empire.

After that, my life became something I could never have imagined.

CIA. NSA. FBI. DEA. ICE. Cartels. Mafia. Yakuza. Bratva.

Now I work with them all, and the most important thing I've learned is power is the only thing that matters. Most men have too many weaknesses to hold on to it for long.
V steps into the room and nods at me.
The anticipation I've been holding at bay all night rises to the surface, and I shove it down.
The Mexicans continue arguing, and in my boredom, I allow my gaze to wander to the monitor on my desk showing various camera angles, specifically the room where I had V take her.

Would she be frantically searching for an exit? V didn't text that there were any problems with the pickup. No indication she'd resisted.
There she is. She rips the hood from her head and her wild red hair spills free.

I tear my eyes from the screen and drag them back to the Mexicans as they argue some more. I listen with one ear, interjecting as necessary to keep it somewhat civil, but I find my gaze drawn to the screen again.

She hasn't started yanking books from the shelves to find a way out. That's at least interesting. But she's a fascination that will lose its luster just as fast as any other.

After a few years at this level, everything ceased to become a challenge for me. I've been bored for nearly two decades, but I'm hoping one fiery redhead provides at least some diversion before I lose interest.

I'm ready for this meeting to be over. They've drawn it out long enough.

I study the men across my desk with disgust. Two of the most feared men in the Mexican drug trade, and I could execute both of them in my office and no one could touch me for it.

When you gain the reputation of having no limits, no weaknesses, and are willing to flood the streets with blood, people don't test your boundaries or break your rules.

Part of me is disappointed that Keira Kilgore didn't put up more of a fight. I thought that Irish redhead temper of hers might come roaring to the surface, but apparently not.

Definitely disappointing.

I turn my attention partially back to the discussion, at least until she turns to face the camera directly like she's found the lens and knows I'm watching her.

Her expression fills with defiance as she reaches for the belt of that ugly-as-sin trench coat, and I watch with rising interest. When she whips it off her body, dropping it to the floor, my cock twitches against the silk lining of my suit pants.

Fuck.
Me.
A smile tugs at my lips.

Maybe she's not a disappointment after all.
She's also completely stolen my attention from the conversation happening in front of me, which is unacceptable.

I will make myself wait.

It doesn't matter that she's standing stark naked in my library, wearing only the high heels I sent, her head held high and proud.
She will wait. Business always comes first.
Then she turns, stealing my attention once more.

My dick jerks again as she gives me a clear view of that perfect peach of an ass I now own.
At the bottom of her back, in the tramp-stamp region, are block letters that I don't recall seeing mention of in any of the information I'd gotten on her, and certainly not in any of the photos.
With a flick of my wrist, I click the frame and zoom in, ignoring the argument in front of me completely.

A growl fills my throat and fire burns in my gut as I make out the words.

Property of No Man

Keira Kilgore, you are definitely no disappointment after all. Let's see how long that lasts.

Ruthless King is LIVE!

I am so excited for you all to meet Lachlan Mount!

#oneclick here:
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Amazon US ⇢http://amzn.to/2gLXVqQ
Amazon UK ⇢ http://amzn.to/2fOEmjUbit
Amazon AU ⇢ http://amzn.to/2frjQT6
Amazon Paperback ⇢ http://amzn.to/2wjuN2s
BN⇢ http://bit.ly/2x7Og3p
Kobo ⇢ http://bit.ly/2iahGLw

Audio Lovers:
Audible: http://adbl.co/2vZIErJ
Amazon Audio: http://amzn.to/2xoE35Y
Downpour: http://bit.ly/2x8sory


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I yank the hood from my head, my eyes adjusting to the dim light as adrenaline dumps into my bloodstream.

Fight or flight.

I’m ready.

I expect to see a smug man waiting for me, the one who sat at my desk like he owned it, but there’s no one.

I spin in a circle, barely keeping myself upright on the tall heels. I’m completely alone.

My first thought—did Scar bring me to the wrong place? I expected a bedroom fit for a bordello with a massive bed where Mount would force me to do whatever sick things his twisted mind desired.

But there isn’t a bed in sight. In fact, the only furniture in the room is massive bookcases lining every wall, two large leather chairs perfectly suited for the frame of a big man, a few lamps on the tables, and a sideboard with crystal decanters. My eyes scan the room from wall to wall, looking for the door.

Another shot of fear courses through me when I realize there isn’t one.

I swallow again, my mouth even drier than in the car, and focus on my breathing. This is New Orleans. Hidden rooms and secret passageways are run of the mill. It’s no big deal.

Except when the man you’re meeting has a history of making his mistresses disappear.

But that’s not what I am. I’m just the piece of ass he’s taking in lieu of payment for a debt. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I stand in the center of the room, waiting, and I see a dark glass bulb tucked into one corner of the ceiling.

A camera.

Is he watching me?

A shaft of courage, bolstered by my rage, straightens my spine once more.

For the first time in my life, I sure as hell hope Lachlan Mount is watching. I untie the belt of my trench coat and let it fall to the floor.

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New Orleans belongs to me.
You don’t know my name, but I control everything you see—and all the things you don’t.
My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met.
I didn’t need to lend money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt.
To have her in my debt.
She doesn’t know she caught my attention.
She should’ve been more careful.
I’m going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her.
It’s time to collect what I’m owed.
Keira Kilgore, you’re now the property of Lachlan Mount.


Chapter 1

Keira


Are those footsteps?
I freeze outside the door to my locked office and stare at the handle like it’s tainted with anthrax.
My younger sisters wouldn’t dare. They know my office is off limits. My parents are 700 miles away in Florida living it up as retirees on the monthly payments I make from the dismal profits of the distillery. It’s barely hanging on, even after four generations of clinging to life making Irish whiskey in New Orleans.
This basement isn’t haunted. This basement isn’t haunted.
I repeat that truth like a chant until my heart slows to a semi-normal pace. My dead husband’s ghost better not be inside, or heaven help me, I’ll kill Brett again myself.
Summoning the same iron will it has taken to dig this company out of the trenches, I grasp the handle, yank it open, and fling myself inside, attempting the element of surprise. Or false courage. Or… something.
“Trying to make an entrance?” The deep voice that comes out of the dark chills me to the very marrow of my bones.
I’ve only heard it once before, through the battered wood of the same locked door I just barged past, but it had been delivering threats I didn’t understand, not asking a question in that cool, controlled manner.
There’s no way I want to be in the dark with this voice.
He’s not a ghost. He’s worse.
He’s the friggin’ boogeyman.
Whispered about in the shadows, but never mentioned in polite company, almost as if saying his name will make him appear—and no one wants that.
I’ve never said it.
I don’t even want to think it now, but my brain conjures it anyway.
Lachlan Mount.
I fumble around, slapping the concrete wall to find the switch, but when I flip it, nothing happens.
Oh Sweet Jesus, I’m going to die and I won’t even see it coming.
My antique desk chair creaks just before the dim glow of my lamp clicks on.
I see his massive hands first, then darkly tanned forearms with white cuffs rolled up. The light doesn’t reach his face.
“Shut the door, Ms. Kilgore.”
Swallowing back the saliva pooling in my mouth at the fact that he knows my name, my hand moves as though directly responding to his command. I grope for the handle behind me, when all I really want to do is turn around and run.
To the police.
Maybe they could… I don’t know. Save me?
I glance over my shoulder, clutching the knob as the door creaks shut, the urge to flee growing as the dim light of the hallway disappears from sight.
“Take a step in that direction, and you’ll lose everything.”
My feet freeze to the cracked cement floor as a bead of sweat rolls down my chest. Normally I would attribute it to the sauna-like conditions produced by the stills, but not tonight.
“What do you want?” I whisper. “Why are you here?”
The chair groans as he rises to his feet, those wide fingers refastening the button on his suit, but his face never coming in to the light.
“You owe me a debt, Ms. Kilgore, and I’m here to collect.”
“A debt? My mind scrambles to think of how in the hell I could owe him money. I’ve never met him before. Hell, I’ve never seen him before, only heard his voice while I eavesdropped. My kind doesn’t mingle with his kind, well, at least most of my kind. A few rumors circulated that he kept Richelle LaFleur, a girl from our church, as a mistress until she went missing a year ago. I shut that path of thinking down completely.”
“What are you talking about?” Somehow I manage to form the question.
Two fingers push a document titled Promissory Note across the scarred wood of my desk into the watery pool of light. My eyes rivet on the papers, but I’m too terrified to step any closer.
Oh sweet Jesus, Brett. What did you do? My heart slams against my ribs.
“Don’t you want to know how much your husband borrowed with this place as collateral?”
“How much?” I ask, inching toward him against my will.
“A half million dollars.”
I suck in a shocked breath. “You’re lying.”
With both hands on the table, he leans down, exposing his face in the dim light. Hard features carved from granite, dark, piercing eyes, and an unrelenting stare contrast with the relative civility of the suit that fits him to perfection.
“I never lie.”
A half million dollars? No way. “I would’ve known if Brett had borrowed that kind of money, and let me tell you—he didn’t.”
He shrugs as if the information means nothing to him. And maybe it doesn’t.
“His signature says that he did, and this debt is overdue.”
My eyes zero in on the papers on the desk. If he really did this… The effects would be catastrophic.
Four generations of Kilgores have dedicated their hopes, dreams, and fortunes to keeping this legacy alive. It can’t end with me.
“I don’t have the money.”
“I know.”
His response throws me back on my heels. “Then why—”
He moves out of the light and comes toward me. I shrink back against the wall as he advances, blocking my escape route to the door. There’s nowhere to run. He has me trapped.
“Because there’s something I might be willing to take on trade.”
It takes everything I have to keep my voice steady as my heart slams against my chest. “What?”
He stops a foot from me, and his full lips form a single word.
“You.”

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