Beneath These Chains (Beneath #3)
by Meghan March
by Meghan March
Releasing June 16th
PRE-ORDER
SYNOPSIS
I was raised on the streets, so I know things are rarely as simple as they appear—especially this rich girl showing up at my pawnshop demanding a job.
She’s the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ll be damned if I can make her leave.
Shit just got complicated … but when it comes to her—I want complicated.
We’re both fighting our own demons, and our only chance at a future is to let go of the past.
But will we be strong enough to break free from beneath these chains?
SNEAK PEEK:
Chapter 1
Lord
I fucking hated people who stole from me. Which was ironic,
considering the only thing that kept me from starving as a kid had been picking
pockets and snatching purses. I dropped my elbows to my desk and rubbed my
hands over my buzzed head.
“Goddamn, karma’s a bitch.”
“She the bitch you fucked last night, bro?” The leather of
my office couch creaked as Mathieu sank his tall, lanky frame into it.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call women
bitches, boy?”
My words were met with a long sigh from Mathieu. Ever since
he’d walked into Chains and tried to grab a guitar and run back out the
door—only to be tackled to the ground by yours truly—he’d been a fixture in my
life. To be fair, his choices had been to work off the price of what he’d
attempted to steal, or go directly to the nearest cop shop. The entire
situation had been such a blast from the past, I’d caught myself smiling when I
should’ve been glaring and scaring the piss out of the kid. But apparently I’d
done an okay job of it because he’d decided starting a rap sheet at seventeen
hadn’t been a good plan. Thank fuck. Almost two years later, the kid was my
right hand.
And now that Chains was mine, someone was fucking stealing
from me.
I rolled my head from side to side, cracking my neck. Fuck,
but I hated firing people. It never got easier. And this time? This time it was
going to be even worse … because there would be tears. And quite possibly
claws.
Pushing up from the chair, I strode to the door without
looking at Mathieu. Over my shoulder, I tossed, “You might want to stay here,
Brianna’s ass is about to get canned.”
“For real?” His words followed me out, and I didn’t bother
to reply.
Every time I stepped foot onto the shop floor, a feeling of
pride surged through me—pride that I’d helped build this business into one that
was not only honest, but profitable. At least it was profitable when one of my employees wasn’t skimming off
the till and fucking with my bank deposits.
Finger twirling in her long, dark extensions and gum
snapping between her teeth, Brianna flipped the pages of a magazine with a
giant black Sharpie in one hand, circling shit. Probably shit she wanted to buy
with the money she’d been stealing from me. The store was empty, which made
what I was about to do a little easier.
“Bree, need a few minutes.”
Her head popped up, lips pursing as she took me in. “You can
have all the time you need, boss.” Her gaudy fake eyelashes batted at me in
what I’m assuming was supposed to be a sexy move. I stowed the urge to tell her
to save it for someone whose dick got hard at the sight of her … but since I
was about to fire her, why add insult to injury? The woman had been trying to
add her notch to my bedpost since I’d hired her. It’d been a mistake, and I’d
known it from the minute she’d first walked in the door, but a friend had
called in a favor.
“Boss? You had something to say?” she prompted.
I watched her, not speaking.
She stopped the hair twirling and capped the Sharpie,
resituating herself on the stool and folding her hands in her lap.
“Lord?”
“You’re done.”
Bree’s dark eyes flew wide. “Done? You mean done for the
day?”
“Done. For good. Get your shit and get out.”
Bree lost the innocent pose as she crossed her arms and
stared me down. “Not until you tell me why.”
I closed the distance between me and the register in two
long strides and pressed my hands to the counter.
“I gave you a job. Gave you a paycheck you didn’t have to
suck a dick to get. But that wasn’t enough for you. You had to have more, and
instead of coming to me and asking for a raise, you decided to make it happen
yourself.”
The color faded from her face, leaving her mocha colored
skin sallow. “Wh-what?”
“Get your shit.”
“I swear, I didn’t—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Her lower lip started to wobble. It wasn’t going to work.
I’d given her the benefit of the doubt, hoped I was wrong or it was just a
one-time thing. But she’d gotten too bold.
“But I need this—”
I cut her off. I
wasn’t in the mood to listen to her beg or justify what she’d done. Even though
she didn’t know it, I’d already given her a second chance. And all that had
done was cost me even more than I could afford to lose. “I needed someone to
work the shop—someone who wasn’t going to fuck me over and steal from me. You
weren’t capable of that, so you’re out. Now get your shit.”
“But—”
“Save your breath, Bree. I ain’t listening unless you’re
here to tell me you’ve got all the money you’ve taken, and you’re putting it
right back where it belongs.”
Her face twisted into an angry glare even as the tears
started falling. “You … you don’t understand.”
“No, I really don’t fucking understand.” I crossed my arms
and waited her out. When she realized the water works weren’t changing my
decision, she spun off the stool, grabbed her giant purple purse from behind
the counter, and stalked toward the door.
“You get all self-righteous with me about a little cash
while you basically steal from people yourself? Giving ‘em twenty dollars for
their shit? Like you could even judge.”
A little cash? She’d skimmed enough to buy a nice used car,
and I’d been too fucking trusting to even realize it until the numbers hadn’t
added up in a big way.
She slowed near the guitars at the front of the store and
malicious glee lit her eyes.
She wouldn’t.
Oh, but she did.
Bree grabbed a guitar and swung it toward the rack as the
chimes above the front door jangled. Wood crashed against wood, and two female
screeches erupted.
Shit… if she injured a customer…
I charged Bree and ripped the guitar from her hands before
she could swing again. A swirl of red hair caught my attention as the other
woman dodged out of the strike zone.
Bree struggled
against my hold, and I wondered if I was going to end up with a face full of
the acrylic claws tearing at my arms. “Let go of me, you asshole!”
“Whoa, Boss. Getting
the door for ya.” Mathieu bolted across the shop and yanked the door open
again. I hustled Bree out and set her free on the sidewalk.
She spun to face Mathieu and me. “You’re going to regret
this,” she hissed. “I swear, you will.”
A soft laugh came from the open door. “From what I’ve seen,
I highly doubt it.”
Bree opened her mouth to spew something else, but I shut her
down. “Get gone. I don’t ever want to see you near my shop again.”
Bree’s flinty eyes narrowed as she shouldered her purse.
“Fuck you, Lord. You think you’re better than me? Not a chance. You’re just
thievin’ street scum. Fuck you.”
“And now she’s getting repetitious,” the husky female voice
commented from behind me.
Lip curling in disgust, Bree turned and marched toward the
street corner, never looking back.
“Her exit could totally use some work, but all-in-all, that
was one hell of a welcome.”
I turned to survey the woman standing in the doorway of
Chains. Even without a photographic memory, I didn’t think I’d ever forget this
particular pose: One arm braced on the doorframe and the other propped on her
hip, a green dress huggin curves that had my entire body sitting up and taking
notice. Matched with the long, curling red hair, she was a goddamn knockout.
“You lost, sweet thing?”
She stepped out of the doorway onto the sidewalk
and tore the help wanted sign off the bottom corner of the front window.
Holding it between two fingers, she smiled. “Nope. I’m exactly where I’m
supposed to be. I’m your newest employee.”
ABOUT MEGHAN MARCH
Meghan March is the author of contemporary and erotic
romance novels.
Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and
tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect
manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic
about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging
auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate
law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women
who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.
FIRST TWO BOOKS IN BENEATH SERIES
(each book could be read as a standalone)
I devoured each of these books and feel in love with Ms. March's whitty and edgy writing! Seriously CAN! NOT! WAIT! for Beneath These Chains!
He loves me, and he doesn’t even know my real name.
The limelight that follows him could expose everything I’m hiding. But even knowing the risks, I can’t force myself to stay away.
I’m going to break his heart, but mine will shatter right along with it.
Will we lose it all when I reveal what’s beneath this mask?
GOODREADS
AMAZON / BARNES AND NOBLE / IBOOKS / GOOGLE PLAY / KOBO
GOODREADS
AMAZON / BARNES AND NOBLE / IBOOKS / GOOGLE PLAY / KOBO
I’ve always known she was too good for me, but that never stopped me from wanting her.
And then I finally had her for one night.
A night I don’t remember.
I figured I’d blown my shot.
But now she’s walked back into my life, and this time, I have the upper hand. I want my second chance.
AMAZON / BARNES AND NOBLE / KOBO / IBOOKS / GOOGLE PLAY
Special Contest Alert!
From now until June 15th, enter to win a $100 gift card with the rafflecopter below. And stay tuned – Meghan will be posting an exclusive interview with Con and Lord shortly after release!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Special Contest Alert!
From now until June 15th, enter to win a $100 gift card with the rafflecopter below. And stay tuned – Meghan will be posting an exclusive interview with Con and Lord shortly after release!
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