~*SYNOPSIS*~
He seethes with raw power the first time I see him—pure
menace and rippling muscles in shackles. He’s dangerous. He’s wild. He’s the
most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
So I hide behind my prim glasses and my book like I always
do, because I have secrets too. Then he shows up in the prison writing class I
have to teach, and he blows me away with his honesty. He tells me secrets in
his stories, and it’s getting harder to hide mine. I shiver when he gets too
close, with only the cuffs and the bars and the guards holding him back. At
night I can’t stop thinking about him in his cell.
But that’s the thing about an animal in a cage—you never
know when he’ll bite. He might use you to escape. He might even pull you into a
forest and hold a hand over your mouth so you can’t call for the cops. He might
make you come so hard, you can’t think.
And you might crave him more than your next breath.
"Sexy, dark, and thrilling. I loved every second of
it!" ~ New York Times bestselling author Katie Reus
“Dark, sexy, and intense, Prisoner is an emotional ride
that does not let go until the end. I loved it!” ~ USA Today bestselling author
Kristen Callihan
~*TEASER*~
~*EXCERPT*~
Heavy bars close behind me with a clang. I feel the sound
in my bones. A series of mechanical clicks hint at an elaborate security
mechanism beneath the black iron plating. I knew this would happen—had
anticipated and dreaded it—but my breathing quickens with the knowledge that I
am well and truly trapped.
“Can I help you?”
I whirl to face the administrative window where a heavyset
woman in a security guard uniform stares at her screen.
“Hi,” I say, pasting on a smile. “My name is Abigail
Winslow, and I’m here to—”
“Two forms of identification.”
“Oh, well, I already filled out the paperwork at the front
desk. And showed them my IDs.”
“This isn’t the front desk, Ms. Winslow. This is the
east-wing desk, and I need to see two forms of identification.”
“Right.” I dig through my bag for my driver’s license and
passport.
She accepts them without looking up, then hands me a
clipboard with a stack of papers just like the ones I’d already filled out.
I’ve been dreading this day for weeks, wishing I’d been
assigned any other project but this one. You’d think I was being sent here for
a crime. My professor—the one who’d forced me into this—warned me that
prisoners were not always receptive to outsiders. Apparently nobody here is.
I complete each form, arrange the pages neatly on the
clipboard, and bring them back up to the window. The guard accepts them and gives
back my IDs…still without looking at me.
My hands clench and unclench, clench and unclench while the
guard eyes my paperwork.
Seconds pass. Or are they minutes? The damp chill of the
place seeps in through my cardigan and leaves me shivering.
Leaning forward, I read the name tag of the guard. “Ms.
Breck. Do you know what the next steps are?”
“You can have a seat. I have work to do now, and then I’ll
escort you back.”
“Oh, okay.” I glance at the bars I just came through, then
the open hallway opposite. “Actually, if you just point me in the direction of
the library, I’m sure I can—”
Thunk. The woman’s
hand hits the desk. I jump. Her dark eyes are faintly accusing, and I wish we
could go back to no eye contact. How did I manage to make an enemy in two
minutes?
“Ms. Winslow,” she says, her voice patronizing.
“You can call me Abby,” I whisper.
A slight smile. Not a nice one. “Ms. Winslow, what do you
think we do here?”
The question is clearly rhetorical. I press my lips
together to keep from making things worse.
“The Kingman Correctional Facility houses over five
thousand convicted criminals. My job is to keep it that way. Do we understand
each other?”
Heat floods my cheeks. The last thing I want to do is make
her job harder. “Right. Of course.” I shamble back, landing hard on the metal
folding chair. It wobbles a little before the rubber feet stop my slide.
I understand the woman’s point. She has to keep the
prisoners in and everyone else out, and keep people like me safe.
I reach down and pull a book from my bag. I never leave
home without one, even when I go to classes or run errands. Even when I was
young and my mother used to take me on her rounds.
Especially then.
I would hide in the backseat with my nose in the book,
pretending I didn’t see the shady people who came to her window when we
stopped.
A little green light above the barred doors flashes on and
there’s an ominous buzz. Somebody’s coming through, and I doubt it will be a
library volunteer. I slide down.
Pretend to be invisible.
It’s no use. I peer over the top edge as a prisoner
saunters through the door, and my pulse slams in my throat double time.
He’s flanked by two guards—escorted by them, I guess you’d
say. But they seem more like an entourage than anything. Power vibrates around
him like a threat.
Read, read, read. Don’t look.
The prisoner is half a foot taller than the guards, but he
seems to tower over them by more than that. Maybe it’s his broad shoulders or
just something about the way he stands, or his imperiously high cheekbones. The
dark stubble across his cheeks looks so rough and unforgiving I can feel it
against my palm; it contrasts wildly with the plushness of his lips. His short
brown hair is mussed. There’s one scar through his eyebrow that somehow adds to
his perfection.
The little group approaches the window. I can barely
breathe.
“ID number 85359,” one of the guards says, and I understand
that he’s referring to the prisoner. That’s who he is. Not John Smith or
William Brown or whatever his name is. He’s been reduced to a number. The woman
at the desk runs through a series of questions. It’s a procedure for checking
him out of solitary.
The prisoner faces sideways, spine straight, the corner of
his mouth tilted up as if he’s slightly amused. Then it clicks, what else is so
different about him: no visible tattoos. Tough guys like this, they’re always
inked up—it’s a kind of armor, a kind of fuck you. This guy has none of
it, though he’s far from pristine; white scars mar the rough skin of his hands
and especially his forearms, a latticework of pain and violence, a flag
proclaiming the kind of underworld he came from.
The feel of brutality that hangs about him is compelling
and…somehow beautiful.
I drink him in from behind my book—it’s my mask, my
protective shield. But then the strangest thing happens: he cocks his head.
It’s just a slight shift, but I feel his attention on me deep in my belly. I’ve
been discovered. Caught by searchlights. Exposed.
My heart beats frantically.
I want him to look away. He fills up too much space. It’s
as if he breathes enough oxygen for twelve men, leaving no air for me at all.
Maybe if we were in the library and he needed help finding a book or looking
something up, then I wouldn’t mind the weight of his gaze.
No. Not even there. He’s too much.
Two sets of bars on the gate. Handcuffs. Two guards.
What do they think he would do if there were only one set of
bars, one guard?
My blood races as the guards draw him away from the window
and toward the inner door, toward where I sit. His heat pierces the chill
around me as he nears. His deep brown eyes never once meet mine, but I have the
sense of him looming over me as he passes, like a tree with a massive canopy.
He continues on, two hundred pounds of masculine danger wrapped in all that
beauty.
Even in chains, he seems vibrant, wild and free, a force of
nature—it makes me feel like I’m the one in prison. Safe. Small. Carefully
locked down.
How would it feel to be that free?
“Ms. Winslow. Ms. Winslow.”
I jump, surprised to hear that the woman has been calling
my name. “I’m sorry,” I say as a strange sensation tickles the back of my neck.
The woman stands and begins pulling on her jacket. “I’ll
take you to the library now.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
That shivery sensation gets stronger. Against my better
judgment, I look down the hallway where the guards and the prisoner are walking
off as one—a column of orange flanked by two thinner, shorter posts.
The prisoner glances over his shoulder. His mocking brown
gaze searches me out, pins me with a subtle threat. Though it isn’t his eyes
that scare me. It’s his lips—those beautiful, generous lips forming words that
make my blood race.
Ms. Winslow.
No sound comes out, but I feel as though he’s whispered my
name right into my ear. Then he turns and strolls off.
~*REVIEW BY JODIE RAE*~
I officially have a HUGE book hangover!! I rated Prisoner by Annika Martin and Skye Warren FIVE LEAVES!! This book completely blew me away! Let's just start this review with a few adjectives: raw, dark, intense, addictive, dangerous, and well-written. I loved every hour, minute, second, it took for me to read! I literally read it in one setting. Prisoner is a fast-paced romance thriller, with complex characters that made this book into an amazing emotional roller-coaster. This is not a sweet love story, it's not your usual romance. Basically, this book cannot have a label or a name for it. This book will make you uncomfortable, but ultimately it will make you feel. This book is incredibly dark, just the way I like my books.
Prisoner is about a guy named Grayson Kane who is serving time for murdering a cop. When Grayson sets eyes on Ms. Winslow (Abigail) he is not only intrigued by the innocent looking lady, but he instantly feels something for her. It will be his mission to get into her class and for him to make Abby his. Abby, who is an English student teacher selected to teach at the prison. Grayson finds out about her class and discovers the class is full. Grayson brides a prison guard to let him into the class. When Grayson is in the class, he now has a plan that could break him out of prison. The class assignment is that the prisoners are to write about real life memoirs of their life experiences.
I am looking forward to the darker stories within the Criminals and Captives series. The books in the series will be about different members of Grayson's crew.
Some people have a relationship that's sunshine and roses. Our's is darkness and vengeance.
I officially have a HUGE book hangover!! I rated Prisoner by Annika Martin and Skye Warren FIVE LEAVES!! This book completely blew me away! Let's just start this review with a few adjectives: raw, dark, intense, addictive, dangerous, and well-written. I loved every hour, minute, second, it took for me to read! I literally read it in one setting. Prisoner is a fast-paced romance thriller, with complex characters that made this book into an amazing emotional roller-coaster. This is not a sweet love story, it's not your usual romance. Basically, this book cannot have a label or a name for it. This book will make you uncomfortable, but ultimately it will make you feel. This book is incredibly dark, just the way I like my books.
Prisoner is about a guy named Grayson Kane who is serving time for murdering a cop. When Grayson sets eyes on Ms. Winslow (Abigail) he is not only intrigued by the innocent looking lady, but he instantly feels something for her. It will be his mission to get into her class and for him to make Abby his. Abby, who is an English student teacher selected to teach at the prison. Grayson finds out about her class and discovers the class is full. Grayson brides a prison guard to let him into the class. When Grayson is in the class, he now has a plan that could break him out of prison. The class assignment is that the prisoners are to write about real life memoirs of their life experiences.
Grayson
finds a way
to write a story that will notify his friends. In the prison escape,
Grayson takes Abby as his prisoner. Abby had a strength about her and
the instincts of a survivor. On the outside she would seem weak but as
the story went on, you as the reader will see how strong she really is
and how big of a heart she has. Grayson is the bad boy that you always
want to stay away from but the ones that you secretly want. Grayson is a
broken anti-hero and you will feel his emotions and understand the
actions he takes in this book.
I am looking forward to the darker stories within the Criminals and Captives series. The books in the series will be about different members of Grayson's crew.
~*ABOUT THE AUTHORS*~
Skye Warren
Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.
Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.
Website | Facebook | Twitter
Annika Martin
I’m a NYT
bestselling author living a stone’s throw away from the Mississippi with
my awesome husband and two cats in a home full of plants, sunshine and
books. I'm heavy into writing love stories about criminals--some of them
are dirty and fun (my Kinky bank robbers!) others are dark and intense
(Prisoner!)
I also write gritty romantic suspense as the RITA-award winning author Carolyn Crane. That's also where I'm most active on Goodreads...come talk books!
I also write gritty romantic suspense as the RITA-award winning author Carolyn Crane. That's also where I'm most active on Goodreads...come talk books!
Website | Facebook | Twitter
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