What do you think?
Rate this book


Sequel to Sinner's Gin
Sinners Series: Book Two
He was dead. And it was murder most foul. If erasing a man’s existence could even be called murder.
When Damien Mitchell wakes, he finds himself without a life or a name. The Montana asylum’s doctors tell him he’s delusional and his memories are all lies: he’s really Stephen Thompson, and he’d gone over the edge, obsessing about a rock star who died in a fiery crash. His chance to escape back to his own life comes when his prison burns, but a gunman is waiting for him, determined that neither Stephen Thompson nor Damien Mitchell will escape.
With the assassin on his tail, Damien flees to the City by the Bay, but keeping a low profile is the only way he’ll survive as he searches San Francisco for his best friend, Miki St. John. Falling back on what kept him fed before he made it big, Damien sings for his supper outside Finnegan’s, an Irish pub on the pier, and he soon falls in with the owner, Sionn Murphy. Damien doesn’t need a complication like Sionn, and to make matters worse, the gunman—who doesn’t mind going through Sionn or anyone else if that’s what it takes kill Damien—shows up to finish what he started.
254 pages, ebook
First published August 19, 2013
“The small piece of paper Sionn used mopped up a bit of crème, and Damien leaned in, angling his chin up. He kept his eyes down, trying not to overtly inhale the woodsy green cologne Sionn wore or stare at the faint stubble scruffing the man’s strong chin. He already knew Sionn’s eyes were flecked by pale sky-blue specks around his pupil with a black ring running around his irises, but Damie didn’t stare into them, not when the man’s breath whispered over his jaw and fingers scraped crème from Damie’s cheek. There must have been a dollop of crème left somewhere, or maybe Sionn had more than a bit of it when he’d bitten into the donut, because when his lips met Damien’s, their kiss tasted of milky sugar and hot cinnamon.”
“It means… well, it’s sort of like secret, like a treasure. Something found and known only to a few. That’s how I think of you. Something beautiful and dark, hiding in plain sight.”
"Shut up and listen to me Irish," Damie whispered, licking at the spongy head hidden beneath Sionn's hood.
"You say you're safe. I know I'm safe. So unless you're going to get me pregnant, I'm going to suck you clean and fill my belly with your taste. Because I need that. I need you. Right. Now. Because the only thing thats going to make me feel better right now is you"
"Hi you've reached Darien's pants. Sorry I unable to be found right now, but I hope to be back after a few days because Whiskey and Wry was just too sexy. Sorry if I'm unavailable to lose my pants for you".











["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>

Yer with the Morgans now, boy.
"Hold on, Damie love," he whispered, suckling the spot he's bitten. "Let's see how close we can fly to heaven."