Maggie Marr Sampler

Maggie Marr Sampler

Maggie Marr

The excerpts included in this sampler are works of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Writers spend years laboring over a single book. Please respect their work by buying their books from legitimate sources. The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

All content copyright © 2017 by Maggie Marr. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and review. Address requests for information to Maggie Marr at MaggieMarrBooks@gmail.com.

Contents

A sampler from

From The Author

The Hollywood Girls Club Series

The Eligible Billionaires Series

Eligible Billionaires: The Travati Brothers

The Powder Springs Series

The Glamour Series

The Hollywood Hitmen Series

Wonderful Love

From the

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Wonderful Love

From the

Untitled

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The Hollywood Hitmen Series

From the

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Eligible Billionaires: The Travati Brothers

From the

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The Glamour Series

From the bestselling

1. Celeste Solange and Her Fifteen-Thousand-Dollar Shoes

2. Lydia Albright and Her Alexandra Neel Pumps

3. Jessica Caulfield and Her Balenciaga Sandals

The Hollywood Girls Club Series

From the bestselling

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The Eligible Billionaires Series

From the

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

The Powder Springs Series

About the Author

A sampler from

USA Today Best Selling Author Maggie Marr

including books from her

Wonderful Love Series

Hollywood Hitman Series

Eligible Billionaires Series

Glamour Series

Travati Brothers Series

Powder Springs Series

And the series that started it all....

The Best-Selling

Hollywood Girls Club Series

From The Author

Dear Reader,

Welcome to my sampler. Between these covers are some of the characters and stories that I've written in my career as an author. Each day I'm blessed by the conversations of my characters and the stories that they tell me.

From the gut-wrenching tale of Jake in WonderF*ck to the story of unshakeable friendship between Lydia, Jessica, Cici, and Mary Anne in Hollywood Girls Club, my characters and their stories (and YOU, dear reader!) are the very reasons I write.

Thank you for spending time with my motley crew. I've come to love each of them, even the unabashedly difficult Kiley Kepner in The Glamour Series, and my deepest hope is that you'll love them too.

Happy reading.

xoMaggie

The Hollywood Girls Club Series

Hollywood Girls Club

Secrets of the Hollywood Girls Club

Hollywood Hit

Hollywood Girls Club, the Series

The Eligible Billionaires Series

Can’t Buy Me Love

One Night for Love

A Christmas Billionaire

Last Call for Love

Running from Love

Eligible Billionaires Books 1–5

Eligible Billionaires: The Travati Brothers

A Forever Love

A Billionaire for Christmas

A Convenient Arrangement

A Forbidden Love

Eligible Billionaires Books 6-9

The Powder Springs Series

Courting Trouble

The Christmas Wish

Candy Cane Lane

The Glamour Series

Hard Glamour

Broken Glamour

Fast Glamour

Easy Glamour

Luxe Glamour

Impossible Glamour

Vicious Glamour: A Reverse Harem Romance

The Hollywood Hitmen Series

Beck

Coming Soon: Jax

Wonderful Love

Wonderful Love

Coming Soon

Eligible Billionaires: The Rashnikov Brothers

From the

Wonderful Love Duet

Wonderful Love

Chapter One

H ow did you find me?

A friend. Her voice cracks and her gaze drops. She stands on the far side of my hotel suite like a doe in the crosshairs. Her words are a lie. I see this in how she brushes her hand over her hair and tilts her head.

Keep in mind she called me. They always call me.

I stay still. I don’t move. I’m draped across a chair on my side of the room. All pent-up sexual energy and alpha male, restrained and waiting for her command. My suit coat is slung over the couch. I’ve untucked my dress shirt and unbuttoned two buttons. The sleeves are rolled up just enough to show my forearms. I am the fantasy.

My gaze remains locked with hers. I keep my eyes up. Now is not the time to let my gaze drift over her body, although I know every inch already. I watched her come in. I watched her spot me across the room as though she’d just seen a panther. I watched the muscles in her body tighten and her pupils dilate with desire, combined with the type of internal conflict I often inspire in women.

I remain still. I never move toward women, not in the beginning. She needs to know she’s safe. That I’m safe. Meeting a stranger alone in a hotel room is a risk for a woman. A big enough risk, that I know when a woman calls my number, when she shows up here, that she needs this. She needs what I can give her with every fiber of her being. She needs the Wonderfuck.

She’s stunned by her own brazenness, and yet compelled to stay.

She’s not young, but she’s not old either. No wedding ring, but that means nothing. I don’t ask, I never ask. She’s ash blonde with blue eyes. A solid B cup, and I’d guess about ten pound more than she thinks she should weigh. Which is utter bullshit. She’s gorgeous. All women are gorgeous, each of them in their own unique way. My fucking God, I wish every woman I met could get it straight in her mind that she’s fucking beautiful no matter what some fashion magazine tells her.

What should I call you? My voice rasps out. I’m hard. Her mere presence makes me hard.

Panic races through her eyes. I can practically hear her fluttering hummingbird heartbeat all the way across the room. You said no names.

Exactly. My voice a deep rumble. My cock responds to her femininity, her beauty, even with her standing fearful on the far side of the suite. "No names, but what do you want me to call you? I lift my eyebrow. When we’re together." Always interesting to see if a woman gives me her real name or a false one. I can tell based on their shoulders.

She places her fingertip to her lips. One tap. Two taps. Three taps. A thought brightens her gaze. Natasha, she says, her voice taking on a silky, sexy, deeper sound, laced with a thread of desire.

My lip twitches upward. A lie. But a lie with a purpose. Something about this name, Natasha, this persona she’ll inhabit when we’re together, will allow her to feel what she wants. To be who she’s always wanted to be. This name, this alias, will enable Natasha to embrace her sexuality.

A concept I completely understand.

Natasha. I let the name roll over my tongue. The word comes out of my mouth like a long languid caress. On the syllables I place an unspoken promise of all the pleasure my mouth will give every inch of her body.

She shudders. Her breathing is shallow, but not from fear. The hand that clutches her purse drops and her breasts press forward. Her hips tilt a bit toward me as her nipples pebble against the fabric of her dress.

I love the name Natasha, I say. I remain seated in the chair. My body is open, one arm laid along the back of the chair and my legs spread. I own this chair. I am all male. Sexy alpha in the domesticated position. All sexy beast simply waiting for her command.

Any command.

My cock is hard. I want this woman. I want to make her come. I want to make her feel. I want her to know when she walks out of this room that she is the all-powerful and beautiful woman I see standing in front of me.

My gaze meets hers and I smolder. I smolder for her. For the physical. Because this is all physical for me.

Heat sears between us.

Her gaze drops to my crotch. My cock is tough to miss when it’s erect, and it’s definitely hard and ready. Her mouth, with those pretty rosebud lips, drops open. A blush starts on her chest and rises over her neck to her cheeks. Her tongue darts out of her mouth and licks her lips. She bites her bottom lip and her eyes lift to meet mine again.

Natasha is nearly ready, but she needs permission, she needs a command, she needs me to tell her what to do. In this moment, she needs me to make this okay for her.

Natasha come to me. I want to touch you.

She swallows. She has every bit of control. She doesn’t know it yet, wouldn’t believe it yet if I told her, but she’ll have all the control the entire time we’re together. Every time we’re together. I’ll tell her what I want to do to her, I’ll even command her to do things, but she won’t ever have to comply. This meeting, and any others we have after today, will always be about what she wants. For her pleasure.

She drops her purse onto the nearby table, and as though another woman takes over, Natasha pulls her hand through her hair and swaggers toward me. Her hips sway with a sexual confidence that she may be faking but is most definitely being conveyed. She stops in front of me. Her pulse pounds in her neck. Her shortened breath telegraphs both her anxiety and her excitement. Natasha is scared, she’s uncomfortable, but she’s also turned on as hell.

She leans forward over me and places a hand on each arm of my chair. Her hair falls along the side of her face. Her breath smells of mint. I recognize the citrus and floral notes of Chanel No. 5. The lines of her face are deeper than I thought, and her eyes are more green than blue.

May I touch you, Natasha? I ask, my voice low.

She takes a halting breath. She nods. But a nod isn’t enough, not now, not this first time. I need to hear her. I need to hear her say yes or no, and know that she is getting exactly what she wants. I raise my face, my gaze still locked to hers, not moving, waiting. Finally, she answers.

Yes.

I reach out and my hand clasps her waist, just above her hip. I stroke up the side of her body. Her face is near mine, her body bent over me. Her eyes are closed. May I touch you here? I ask. She nods.

Tell me, Natasha.

Yes, she whispers. My thumb strokes over the hard nipple beneath the fabric of her dress.

I’m completely engorged. Her face is flushed with desire. I want her and she wants me, but this first meeting is meant to be slow. Needs to be slow. My focus is to unleash the sexuality that remains hidden within her.

You are incredibly sexy, Natasha. Do you know that?

She licks her lips. Her energy shifts and her eyes remain closed. She doesn’t know she’s sexy. My hand glides over her body to her hip.

Her eyes open and drop to my cock, which presses against my pants.

Do you want to touch me, Natasha?

She nods.

Tell me, I whisper. My fingertips circle her hip.

Yes, I want to touch you.

I’m yours. My body is yours.

Her gaze widens. She glances at my face as though this thought, this idea, is more than she can comprehend.

Natasha reaches forward, and through the fabric she grasps my engorged cock. My breath hitches in my chest and she tightens her grasp. A moan comes from my lips as my eyes close. Because yeah, a hot sexy woman has my cock in her hands.

You’re— she pants. You’re so big.

I open my eyes and smile. I am. And every inch can give you pleasure.

She takes a deep breath. Her hand grabs my belt and she unzips my pants. She grasps my flesh.

Your cock … your cock is beautiful.

So I’ve been told.

Can I take off your dress, Natasha?

She nods and turns. I reach up, slide the zipper down, and let the dress fall from her shoulders. I want to kiss you here. My fingertips skim the small of her back.

Yes, she whispers, and I press my lips to her skin. I unsnap her bra and pull her panties down over her hips. She turns to me, naked. Her body is perfect, beautiful. She has a small four-leaf clover tattoo over her right hip.

How many people have seen that tattoo? What prompted that image, something that seems so far from Natasha’s character?

Her pussy in front of my face and the scent of desire comes from her, the scent of want. I want to kiss you here, I say, looking at her sex. "May I?’

Yes, she gasps. What I really want to do is pick her up and take her to the bed. To spread her legs and suck her clit until she comes, but that is for later, that is for when Natasha is ready and wants to be ravished. Now, this moment, this time, is for the slow methodical process of getting to know her sexual triggers.

I lean forward and place a kiss on the edge of her sex. Then I spread her with my fingertips and I kiss her. I let my tongue lick up over her clit. A moan splits the silence. Her fingernails bite the flesh of my shoulders.

My God, that feels so good. Her body trembles. I know, in this instant I know, that Natasha has never experienced oral sex.

I want to put you on the bed and I want to eat your pussy. Can I do that? I want your pussy.

Her mouth drops open and her eyes meet mine. Her breath is short. She can barely form words. You want my … you want …

I want your pussy, Natasha. Your pussy, the taste, the smell—all of it turns me on.

It’s like I’ve told her that aliens have invaded earth.

But men don’t like pussy. They think—

I do. Men do. I want your pussy. May I take you to the bed?

Yes, oh my God, yes. Tears form in her eyes and she presses her hand to her mouth. I stand. I lift her. I carry her to the bed. I silently condemn to hell