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Cover Reveal: Real Ugly: CM Stunich

by - Wednesday, June 05, 2013


Real Ugly
Series: Hard Rock Roots #1
Genre: A New Adult Rock Star Romance
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Release Day: June 10th, 2013

"Turner Campbell is an asshole.
I f*cking hate him.
But I can't get enough either.
He sings like an angel and f*cks like a devil.
If I could, I'd run away and never look back because to tell you the truth, I think this man might be the death of me.
***
Naomi Knox is a bitch.
I can't f*cking stand her.
But I can't stop thinking about her either.
She looks like an angel and plays like a devil.
If I could, I'd f*ck her good and forget all about her, but to tell you the truth, I think this woman might be my last saving grace."

Mature - Ages 18 and Up Due to Dirty Language and Raw Sex






Unedited Teaser:

I'm looking down, so I'm not paying attention to where I'm going. Doesn't matter anyway. When people see me coming, they get out of my way.
?Hey!? a girl shouts as our shoulders slam together and my cigarette topples out of my mouth. ?Watch where you're fucking going!? A crumpled ball of leather slams into my chest before I get the chance to process that the chick standing in front of me is the girl from the bus last night, the one on the couch. Holy fuck me. She looks even better in the daylight. She's tall, fucking got legs for days, and her tits are practically falling out the top of an asymmetrical tee that's cut up and hanging in long strips over her bare belly. Skin like porcelain, orange-brown eyes that bite, and swollen lips. Hell to the fuck yeah. She's exactly my type. My irritation at having her bump into me dissipates right away, and I switch on the charm.
?Hey, baby, do I know you from somewhere?? I shake out the crumpled leather as she scowls at me and realize with a start that it's actually my jacket. Must've left it on her bus last night. I wonder if we fucked. If we did, then it's a memory I'm sad to forget.
?Yeah, last night when I cleaned your puke off my carpet and pulled your dick out of my friend. Hey, next time you decide to screw a drunk chick, make sure she's sober enough to remember her own name. Can you do that for me, Turner?? I lick my lips and shake out the jacket, tossing it over my shoulder with a scowl of my own. Hot as this chick is, nobody talks to me like that. If I've ever fought for anything in my life, it's the right to be respected. Even a tight body and a dangerous scowl can't change that.
?Hey, if I touched your friend, it's because she wanted me to.? I snap my fingers and lean in close. ?Oh yeah, and it's none of your damn business.? Hands come out quick and hit my chest, knocking me back a step. Mostly from surprise. She isn't as tough as she thinks.
?Next time you pass out on my bus, I take payment from you in the form of diseased body parts.? She waves her hand at my dick and then she tries to turn away. My fingers on her shoulder spin her around and this time, she hits me right in the face.
?You fucking bitch,? I snarl as she stands her ground and stares me down. ?I could have you kicked off the tour for that shit. Or thrown in jail. Who the hell do you think you are?? The woman raises her chin and takes a deep breath while the wind teases her auburn hair around her soft face. She's acting fierce, but I can see right through her. This chick is vulnerable, half ready to crack. Wonder if I could help her along a little? Broken souls are my specialty.
?My name is Naomi Knox,? she says and then takes a step closer to me, so close that the toes of our shoes touch and her breasts brush up against my chest. Almost immediately, my cock springs to attention and gets hard as a fucking rock, expanding along the length of my thigh and pressing against the tight fabric of my jeans. Fuck that hurts. Guess this my penance for wearing girls' pants. ?And I'm not afraid of you, Turner Campbell, so fuck off.?
She spins on her heel and smacks me across the cheek with her hair. As she moves away, I see something in her face. I don't know what it is, but it triggers something else in me. I know I've met this girl before, and I'm not going to rest until I figure out where.
C.M. Stunich was raised under a cover of fog in the area known simply as Eureka, CA. A mysterious place, this strange, arboreal land nursed Caitlin's (yes, that's her name!) desire to write strange fiction novels about wicked monsters, magical trains, and Nemean Lions (Google it!). She currently enjoys drag queens, having too many cats, and tribal bellydance.
Always a fan of the indie scene and 'sticking it to the man,' Ms. Stunich decided to take the road less traveled and forgo the traditional publishing route. You can be assured though that she received several rejections as to ensure her proper place in the world of writers before taking up a friend's offer to start a publishing company. Sarian Royal was born, and Ms. Stunich's books slowly transformed from mere baking chocolate to full blown tortes with hand sculpted fondant flowers.
C.M. is a writer obsessed with delivering the very best and scours her mind on a regular basis to select the most unusual stories for the outside world.

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