From Manhattan

Manhattan Protector – Exclusive First Chapter

Only three cranky bodyguard sleeps to go!

One Click: mybook.to/ManhattanProtector
Goodreads:  https://bit.ly/ManhattanProtectorGR
Check out the standalone series HERE


Some problems needed patience.

Other challenges required a spanking.

It wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet, and I knew which option I was veering toward.

Rounding the corner, my legs ache from exertion, letting me know I’ve probably run more than the usual nine miles, but there’s a little way left to go, so I don’t stop.

Instead, I mull over the dilemma, knowing there’s no solution I can willingly face, or I would have done it at any point during the last two years when the same issues arose. It was as though I enjoyed the tightened noose I’d put around my neck.

Having prided myself on successful assignments for more than a decade of growing my security business, a sought-after firm in New York. The most long-term client we’ve had, is an infuriating nuisance. Though I’ve tried to hand the job off to others many times, it always backfires in my face because she prefers me.

Huffing in the cool morning air as I pound the ground beneath me, the cold sweat clings to the back of my shirt.

Sometimes running helps.

Other times, like today, it’s something to do to keep me steady and in control.

I live a solitary life. Some would accuse I live for my work, and they might be right. Drinking only when I want to, I don’t date, getting what I want from women when the urge takes me. Socializing is kept to a minimum. My family isn’t huge, so there aren’t many gatherings to attend, though I see my nana every week to make sure she’s okay and has everything she needs. Luckily, it’s easy to pay for services to ensure she is taken care of.

I like my life the way it is.

It’s taken me years to get to a place of comfort, unbothered by others.

So what if I’m a workaholic? How can that be a bad thing?

It’s not a disconnect. It’s self-preservation. Or so I thought.

And then this client happened and shot all the shit I knew out of the water.

Having spent my early twenties, as most men do, obsessed with using their dick and getting wasted, chasing pussy and not giving a damn about the future, I’d started my business out small and grew it myself. It centered me, gave me a purpose, and now I’m thirty-seven, it’s hard to recognize that person from a decade ago.

Bodyguarding is a full-time endeavor.

I’d entered Columbus Circle to Central Park more than an hour ago, taking the looped areas most joggers take. But at stupid o’clock, when I prefer to run, it wasn’t so busy that I was tripping over slow bodies.

I’m not fond of mouth breathers being too near when I need quiet to think.

Getting a call at 6 a.m. to let me know she insisted on leaving the apartment. Again. Lying in bed this morning with only enough sleep to stop my brain from malfunctioning, I could feel my blood pressure rising through the fucking roof. Picturing her in those tight pink yoga pants she prances around in each morning. I could only imagine the barista’s eyes bugging out of his young head when he saw her waltzing into the coffee shop, a smile on her face, happy to see everyone and talking like they were old friends.

I put out that fire with one call, but had to come for a run before I knew the next flames would appear.

They always do.

For two years, I’ve been putting out fires left and right.

Not infernos.

Not even raging bonfires.

But flickering flames, every single day.

Every other job I take is a cakewalk.

Senators, celebrities, dignitaries. Nothing goes wrong. I hire only the best ex-military people who know how to handle themselves and protect those we’re paid to keep alive.

Nothing goes wrong.

Not once.

And we’ve all been in dicey situations where our skills came to the forefront. I’ve dealt with enough crazies over the years, and nothing interfered with my professionalism.

She intimidates my people because she’s too nice, too giving, and caring, with no spatial awareness of what personal boundaries she might be crossing.

She wants to know their life story. What makes them tick, laugh, and cry?

She tries to help them, feed them, give advice to better their lives.

I’ve never known anyone to give that much of a shit about another person and not expect a thing in return.

It’s always something, even when I’ve made it known they’re there to do a job, not become her best friend.

If there was a modern-day Pollyanna, then she was it.

And then I feel a vibration at the top of my arm, and a sigh coats out of me as I come to a slow stop, my lungs burning as I rub a hand through my damp hair and yank the phone from the holster sitting on my bicep.

“Yes?” I bark. Expecting what Tony on the other end is going to say.

“Boss, you’re needed.”

Of course, I am.

The groan gusts out of me like a downpour.

I should stop to take a shower first, but I don’t.

It’s as though my feet know where we’re going and take me there against my will. So by the time I was let into the exclusive building in the financial district by the security guards I vetted personally, and took the elevator up to the 10th floor. I’m cold with sweat clinging to the damp, hooded running jacket.

Tony opens the door after checking it is me, and I stride inside, arching a brow at him, silently accusing his pussy-ass of fearing a little girl.

Tony is ex SAS, for fuck’s sake. He’s been to war zones; he guarded the last president and traveled on the tour bus with a one-hit-wonder pop star who caused holy hell with drugs and hookers, but Tony panics around one British woman who likes to chat.

“I should fire you,” I rumble as he scrapes a hand over his dark hair, half-smiling.

Not midday and yet already it has been a long fucking day.

Though, most of them are when your entire job is keeping another person alive.

“Nah, you like me around too much, boss,” he jokes. “You know she prefers you. I’ll be outside,” he adds and makes his escape. It was noted he carried a container of food with him. Pussy.

Advancing into the sprawling three-bed apartment, my gaze clocks on the people already here. Her place is rarely empty of bodies. It gets claustrophobic as fuck, but she likes the company.

Today it’s her assistant, a manager, and a publicist. They call out hellos, but I only jut my chin in greeting. Without coffee, I can’t be responsible for the unfiltered sarcasm to come out of my mouth.

And then there she is.

Strutting out of the bedroom.

Grey yoga shorts, a flowing shirt billowing around her stomach.

And a ready smile when she sees me.

At that moment, I feel every one of my thirty-seven years.

Like an old man looking at a rare diamond.

A twenty-five-year-old British bombshell.

Katarina Young. The it-girl in the modeling world. On every billboard and catwalk. Wanted by men, coveted by thousands.

The bane of my fucking life.

Okay, she’s not.

She’s a good client, hardly whines at all, no matter what I tell her to do for her safety.

But it doesn’t stop my back teeth from clenching together the closer she gets.

This irritation isn’t new.

It bore life the week I started guarding her.

Katarina’s smile brightens, and it changes the atmosphere in the room. It constantly changes the mood, especially within my veins.

My teeth clench harder.

My day of solitude has gone to hell. I at least expected to see her in some form of trouble if I had to come in on my one day off this month.

Instead, she keeps smiling, and I scowl.

“Why am I here?”

Her eyes round but don’t lose any of the twinkle. She sips from a tumbler of whatever smoothie it is today. Katarina is big on smoothies instead of actual chewable food. Some dumb advice from one of her shit-for-brains team who hired a nutritionist that told her it would be the end of the world if she dared to gain a pound.

“Don’t ask me. One minute I was talking to Tony, and then he’s crying on the phone to you.” She shrugs.

Great.

Fucking wonderful.

That meant she’d over shared or pushed her little nose into Tony’s business and badgered my elite bodyguard to death.

Turning on my heel, I head for the door.

My shadow is behind me as she slurps on the end part of the smoothie.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I warn. “Tony is outside. Don’t bother him; he’s here to work, not get life advice from a little girl.”

“Hardly little, but I won’t talk to Tony, seeing as he’s so sensitive and needs daddy to hold his hand.” I hear the amusement in her voice. When I shoot a glance over my shoulder, she’s looking at my ass. Her gaze travels up slowly until our eyes meet.

“You’re terribly sweaty, Iceman.”

My nickname on her lips goes through me like an atom bomb detonating, and my jaw cracks from how tight I’m grinding it.

“I’ll be back. Don’t move your ass from this apartment, Katarina.”

She laughs at the silent or else tacked on at the end.

Not the first time I’ve had to threaten the modeling world princess.

She rarely listens.
Copyright© V. Theia 2022.

From Manhattan

Manhattan Protector – COVER REVEAL

Get ready for a hot, cranky bodyguard!
PRE-ORDER: mybook.to/ManhattanProtector
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/ManhattanProtectorGR
#MineToProtectMineToLove

Genre: Contemporary / bodyguard romance
Trope: | Cranky bodyguard / Sunshine starlet

What you need to know about Manhattan Protector:

  • Cranky/Sunshine
  • Knitting
  • Beans on toast
  • A nap date
  • Pesky stalker
  • Betrayal
  • Familiar Manhattan faces
  • Jet setting foreplay
  • Mine. Mine. Mine. She’s mine!
  • Showering with clothes on 👀



★°•.★𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛:

MINE TO PROTECT

Safeguard the client at all costs.
Never allow them to grow attached.
Don’t form personal connections.
It’s bodyguarding 101.
Until supermodel, Katarina Young, sashayed into my life with her optimistic smiles.
She’s a good girl.
I’m not the right man for her, no matter how under Katarina’s spell I am.
Keeping her safe is easy. It’s my only priority.
She’s become vital to me.
But keeping my hands off her is the real mission.

MINE TO LOVE

I believe people come into our lives for a reason.
Danger brought Hunter Madsen into mine.
And I’m praying love keeps him there.
Hunter wants to protect me and I want everything else from him.
His love, most of all.
Can I get my monosyllabic, sometimes cranky bodyguard to fall under my British charms?
I’d bet all the tea and crumpets I could.

Complete standalone romance

Renegade Souls MC

Darling Psycho – Available Now

Oh, wow. Can you believe the end of the Renegade Souls series is finally here? It’s so bittersweet, I’m going to miss those bikers and their old ladies. But Angela and Lawless promise to take it out with a bang! I hope their book is everything you wanted. Enjoy a trip to Colorado one last time and see the long awaited psycho get his HEA! xox

Goodreads TBR: https://bit.ly/DarlingPsychoGR
Kindle – KU – Paperback: mybook.to/DarlingPsycho
★.•°★°•.OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:  HERE 


Can a villain be the hero too?
Time to find out. #TeamEnforcer
It’s the end of an era.

Series: Book 12 – Renegade Souls MC Series.
(Read in order to better appreciate the ongoing background story lines…or jump right in if you don’t mind missing out on the world building back stories and characters)

Trope: ☆A villain falling in love ☆Meant-to-be ☆Age-gap

Renegade Souls MC

Christmas FREEBIES!

ARE YOU BRAND NEW TO THE RENEGADE SOULS MC SERIES? – Get to know a biker Prez. ✨DIRTY SALVATION✨
Rider is unapologetic and unfiltered and he’ll do anything to help his broken girl.

𝐼𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑏 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡, 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠.
𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑘 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑍𝑎𝑟𝑎?

FREE: mybook.to/DirtySalvation

✨MISTLETOE and OUTLAWS – A Renegade Souls MC Christmas Novella.✨
See what those dirty Renegade Souls boys got up to in this special festive catch up novella and how they make the holidays special for their ladies.

Featuring the first four couples of those Renegade Souls MC. – takes place on the same timeline as Finally Winter.

So many trees✔️
Snow everywhere✔️
Festive theft✔️
Babies✔️
A doggo in a onesie✔️
A howling Lawless ✔️

FREE: mybook.to/MistletoeAndOutlaws

Renegade Souls MC

Darling Psycho – Exclusive first chapter

Are you psycho ready?
It’s the end of an era… hold on tight, fish.
Grab your preorder
Add to Goodreads
Check out the series HERE


“I hear you’re leaving us.”

A voice Lawless recognized as Dillion Dreyers -aka correctional officer and a few times booty call- said behind him.

Being in the exercise yard was the most normal Lawless had felt in almost three years.

Whatever normal felt like.

Anyone knew his wiring didn’t fire in the proper sequence, so normalcy was apples and oranges for him. He’d stopped agonizing over the answers a long time ago. Instead, he’d learned to live with how his analytical brain worked. Lawless felt like a computer that never booted down.

An extraordinarily high IQ and his diagnosed low latent inhibitions meant his surrounding environment constantly stimulated his brain.

Couldn’t shut the fucking thing off.

Being inside a prison with hundreds of boring lunatics meant Lawless had to get used to the low-level din of their noise. It constantly ticked through his white meat, over-stimulating him like a firework that never fizzled out.

Outside under the sky, especially when he was alone, like now, because he’d paid a guard to let him have extra exercise time in the yard, there was only blessed silence.

Two hands in the gray issued sweatpants pockets; Lawless cast a withering glance over his shoulder as Dreyers sidled up to him in his manly uniform, taser included.

“Have you come to say goodbye, Dillion?”

About a year ago, Dreyers transferred to the psych building. Shorter hours, better pay. But he dropped by Lawless’ wing to talk like old friends from time to time. Bags of meat were so pedestrian because Lawless had all but blackmailed the man into giving him access to many parts of the prison not available to low-life prisoners. Yet, it seemed he’d forgotten all about that and made Lawless into a friend.

“Something like that. At least now the other C.O.’s will get a chance at winning some money.”

Lawless smirked, looking out at the acres of nothingness that surrounded the prison. To the untrained eye, it appeared huge, and it was. But the size of the prison never mattered. It was all about the bars and the locked doors, which narrowed his world down considerably.

For six long days since his phone call to Archie to get him the fuck out of there, he’d been counting the seconds to when he wouldn’t hear another electronic door slamming shut.

The C.O.’s had been fair with Lawless, so he’d been fair with them. He’d even sat at their gambling tables, robbed them all blind. Fairly.

Lawless never had to cheat.

Until he did.

Now the end had come, his skin was too tight, he felt scratches on the inside of his brain.

Unable to sleep.

He was wired as fuck.

Waiting.

Waiting.

But now, his roadmap had been derailed, and he’d been forced to think outside of the box.

To re-plan everything from the start.

In any other circumstances, he would have been thrilled to play cat-and-mouse games. But all Lawless felt in the last six days was irritation coating the back of his throat.

Irritation at how he’d been blackmailed into a corner like a pathetic animal fighting for its life. It had been a long time since Lawless felt inadequate.

If he were the emotional type, like Snake was, he might have reacted a whole other way to Benz’s blackmail. “Come back to me. Fully, in every sense, be at my side, rule with me, allow me to love you. I’m fucking empty without you there, Penn. And I will leave her alone. She won’t exist to me.”

There was no hesitation when he’d answered: “done.”

That was six days ago.

Six days in which Lawless had felt split down to the bones and sinew, with his guts pouring out onto the floor.

He had very little power for a man who lived by his control.

Benz had thought he’d won, and while he visited Lawless yesterday, he allowed his former lover and mentor to keep thinking so. The man was attractive, cunning and they’d played well together a handful of years ago.

Did it mean Lawless had to be lenient with him because they had a history? Or whatever fondness ordinary people felt? Hell no.

Jay was blackmailing him into being his boy toy/right-hand man.

He could have a King Kong cock and like being choked out during orgasm, and it would still piss Lawless off.

He couldn’t think about Jay yet.

And that’s when he heard the man at his side inhaling the cancer stick. Lawless turned on his feet and started heading toward the door. Dreyers got in step with him.

Two hours and counting.

He needed the stink of the place off his skin. It felt as though it was embedded in areas he couldn’t scrub.

“Looking forward to getting out?”

What? Did the guy think Lawless would miss the place? That he’d choose to stay longer for the shits and giggles?

Not in a million years would he want to be in prison.

It had been his version of Hell being locked up all day long like a dog in a cage.

“You sure as shit made this place different.”

“I can’t stay just to brighten your day, Dillion,” he quipped and made the other man laugh.

“What will you do now?”

“Go back to my life.”

Maybe do a little murdering. Who knows? He’d been without his tools for a long time; he needed some fun.

Lawless looked at the world through eyes that had seen too much. It was predator energy that motivated him.

He liked simple things.

Expensive things.

And things that an average joe would pray on his knees to his Lord and Savior over.

The man at Lawless’ side had a lean body underneath the gaudy uniform, and he was easily manipulated.

If he wanted to, he could probably demand Dillion Dreyers take him to a secluded closet for a farewell fumble.

But Lawless wasn’t interested in him, and once they were back inside, he offered a hand, and Dreyers shook it. “Your wife still trying to talk you into getting a cat?”

Dreyers groaned. “She’ll win; she always wins.”

“Get her two, they don’t like to be alone.”

“I’d tell you to keep out of trouble, Penn, but I doubt you will.”

Lawless smirked and walked through the electronic door into a holding area where he would collect the civilian clothes he’d been wearing three years ago and pick up the only two things he was taking from this place.

His silver wristwatch and a box of unread letters.

Lawless had been inhaling the same Wyoming air for too long, but that first breath as a free man as he was escorted out of the final gate hit differently in his lungs, and his stride didn’t stop as he advanced toward a waiting Hawk and Snake.

“We are not hugging,” he warned a grinning Snake. “Control your emotions.”

Too fucking late. His friend and brother grabbed him like a bear attack and squeezed Lawless’ torso before thumping him on the back.

Once freed, he caught the blank icy stare from the VP. “Don’t expect the same from me.” Hawk arched his blond eyebrow as if it was ridiculous even to suggest he’d get with the PDA. Instead, the pair met their fists in the middle and bumped them. “Good to have you back.”

“Ready to get out of here?” Snake asked. “We got your Harley in a trailer if you wanna ride.”

He did. More than ever. “I need something to eat first, get the taste of this place out of my mouth.”

It would take more than food, but all in good time. Lawless had his standards, and he could settle for a juicy burger first.

They found a diner in town. Hawk stayed in the truck like the antisocial demon he was. He’d missed that fucker and all his silent quips.

“Are you ever gonna draw breath?” Lawless asked when he moved the now empty plate away. His stomach felt better after greasy food. “You haven’t shut up for a second.”

“I’m happy to see you,” smirked Snake, tossing a balled-up napkin on his empty plate.

“I can tell by your wagging tail.”

“You know we weren’t expecting you yet.”

“That’s why it’s called a surprise.”

Making a late-night call to the club last night, he’d informed them Archie had finalized his release and then asked Rider to call an emergency meeting with the core brothers but to keep his release hush-hush for now.

As far as Benz knew, Lawless was still behind bars and would be there in the next two weeks when he visited him.

It was petty.

But nowhere did Lawless ever state he wasn’t a petty motherfucker.

Benz wanted him. Badly.

Maybe he’d make the man chase him like a dirty dog.

“So,” Snake posed, a deep tint to his eyes. “What’s the plan, Law? If we’re killing Jay Benz, I need a heads up. My Winter doesn’t like our date nights interrupted, you get me?”

Lawless believed him.

Snake was entangled with his librarian like his namesake would be around prey. Even behind bars, Lawless heard about their relationship across the table when his friend visited.

Lawless didn’t deal with emotions.

They were pesky ant bites, and he hadn’t been tested, but he was almost positive he was allergic.

He was book smart and emotionally stunted.

Oh, he could pretend as well as the next psychopath.

But even then, he would swear on his Mustang that Snake would rather chew off his head than murder anyone. The last time didn’t work out so well for him.

So, in the event of a bloodbath, he would let his friend have the peace he so needed in his life and not tag him in.

“Your date nights are safe,” he answered in his even tone as he rose, and Snake followed suit, tossing bills on the table. They headed outside, where Hawk started the engine.

Lawless cast a smirk over his shoulder.

“Why would I kill Jay when I’m his boyfriend?”
Copyright© V. Theia 2021.