*~*Reparation by Stylo Fantome Cover Reveal – Excerpt & Giveaway*~*

The Devil has met his match
When Tatum O’Shea decides it’s time for some payback, no one is safe from her new game – not even the devil himself. Tate is going to get her happily ever after, even if it means making everyone else unhappy in the process.

But a persistent Jameson, a meddling Sanders, and an amorous baseball player make it very hard for a girl to keep her focus, and suddenly it seems Tate has a few too many suitors for her fairy tale ending.

Sometimes, it’s very difficult to tell who Prince Charming really is …

WARNING: may induce Kindle throwing, screaming at fictional characters, and possibly a few tears. Also graphic sexual situations and sadomasochistic themes.

Eighteen year old Tatum O’Shea is a naive, shy, little rich girl. Twenty-three year old Jameson Kane is smart, seductive, and richer. They come together for one night, one explosion, one mistake, and Tate is hurled into space – no family, no money, and no Jameson.

Seven years later, life is going pretty good for Tate, when she runs into Jameson again. This time, she thinks she’s ready for him. She doesn’t have a naive bone left in her body, and she can’t even remember what shy feels like. Jameson has evolved into Satan – sharp teeth, sharper claws, and a tongue that can cut her in half. It all sounds like fun to a girl like Tate, and she is ready to play, determined to prove that she isn’t the same girl he conquered once before. A series of games start, each one more devious than the last.

But the devil likes to play dirty, and she learns that playing for souls is playing for keeps. The lines between games and reality, heaven and hell, get blurry. Can she beat Jameson at his own game before someone gets hurt? Or will he leave her soulless, making him the winner, once and for all?

WARNING: contains a wannabe B-rate porn star, an impersonal personal assistant, and the F-word, A LOT. Also graphic sexual situations and sadomasochistic themes

Can the Devil be Forgiven?

Everything is fun and games until someone gets hurt, and what Jameson Kane did to Tatum O’Shea goes so far beyond hurt, he is well into the realm of unforgivable. Tate says she wants him gone for good, and he quickly learns that the old saying, “you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone”, is most definitely true.

But Jameson has never been very good at following instructions, and when Satan decides to seek redemption, he’ll go to great lengths to get it. He proposes one last game – one to end them all, if she agrees to play. He is very confident that he can win, but Tate warns him that it’s not possible; she will not lose again. Little does she know, Jameson is prepared to do whatever it takes. Prepared to lay the entire world at her feet. Prepared to bear his soul.

What he didn’t count on, though, was handing the damn thing over.

Now Jameson can only pray that his evil ways haven’t rubbed off on Tate too much. Sometimes, it’s very difficult to tell who the Devil really is …

WARNING: contains a semi-reformed devil, a woman scorned, and more Sanders than anyone has a right to witness. Also graphic sexual situations and strong language.

Jameson watched the Bentley pull up the driveway. Sanders got out of it, alone. They hadn’t spoken the entire time. Jameson hadn’t called – if he had, he probably would’ve lost his shit. And he didn’t want to do that. Sanders probably hadn’t called for the very same reason.

“Nice little vacation you had there,” Jameson commented, taking in Sanders’ rumpled suit.

“I wouldn’t say that,” the younger man replied, heading into the house and straight into the kitchen. Jameson followed him.

“I almost thought you had left with her,” he voiced his fear. Sanders stopped in front of a cupboard.

“I would never do that. I simply tried to reason with her,” he said.

“Oh really. And how did that go?” Jameson snorted. Sanders snorted as well and pulled open the cupboard.

“Not well. She is severely unbalanced.”

Jameson was a little shocked as he watched Sanders pull a bottle Jack Daniel’s out of the cupboard. He walked up next to him, watched as Sanders got a tumbler out of another cupboard and then poured about three-fingers worth of the amber liquid into the glass.

“She’s also a bad influence. What are you doing?” Jameson demanded. Sanders handed the glass to him.

“This is for you,” he replied. Jameson took the glass.

“Oh god, why?” he groaned, then knocked back the liquid.

“She offered to sleep with me.”

Jameson started choking on the whiskey. Sanders pounded on his back, but Jameson waved him away. Stumbled over to the sink and turned on the faucet, stuck his mouth underneath it. He must have heard wrong. He couldn’t believe it.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped for air, leaning against the counter. “You’ll have to repeat that. What happened?”

“Sex. She offered to have sex with me.”

“I see. Did you take her up on this offer?”

Pause.

Oh my god. I have to kill Sanders. How am I going to do this? That stupid bitch …

 

 

 

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Crazy woman living in an undisclosed location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a necessity!), I have been writing since …, forever? Yeah, that sounds about right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball – I also see shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I’m clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.

I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there’s your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair – both a curse and a blessing – and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can’t understand me.

Yeah. I think that about sums me up.