Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Xavier Cold (Hard Knocks Book Two)

Jan 20th 2016 release date:

Amazon Pre-order:

The conclusion to the New York Times bestselling romance that began in Phenomenal X, about one woman’s pulse-pounding relationship with a notorious bad-boy wrestler.

“What’ll it be, Anna Cortez? Are you in, or are you out?”

One momentary loss of control has now ruined everything Xavier Cold had going for himself. With his world unraveling fast, he’s willing to do anything to save not only his job but his relationship with the only woman he’s ever loved.

Anna Cortez, still reeling from shock, tries desperately to save the man that’s consumed her heart, body and soul. She’ll have to dig deep and find courage she never knew she possessed to help Xavier fight demons from his past—a past that’s even more haunted than she ever imagined.

Jan 20th 2016 release date:

Amazon Pre-order:

Find book one, Phenomenal X here:
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Google Books:

Xavier Cold Coming Soon! Add it to your Goodreads:

Wish Granted: A Very Merry “X”-mas

Holiday Reads Christmas Scene:
Wish Granted: A Very Merry “X”-mas

By Michelle A. Valentine ©

The hallways of the children’s hospital are alive with energy tonight as I walk hand-in-hand with Xavier through them. He’s here by special invitation to grant a couple Christmas Eve wishes for a few boys and girls who requested to meet him. My man dearly loves his fans, but the kids who look up to Xavier really mean a lot to him. He always makes time for them. But tonight, according to the information his manager, Jimmy, gave him, he’s not the only celebrity gracing the hallways of the this medical facility, which is why there’s so much fuss with triple security everywhere the eye can see.
“It’s right this way, X,” Jimmy says as he double checks the paperwork in front of him. “Room three-oh-three—Austin Mills—age eight.”
Xavier nods and worries his lower lip between his teeth as we round the corner and head into the oncology ward. For being the biggest, scariest looking man I’ve ever known, when it comes to children, he has a kind heart.
I give his hand a little squeeze just like I always do when I need to let him know that I’m here for him without saying a word.
He stares down at me, and my gaze locks onto his light blue eyes as one corner of his mouth turns up into a sad smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Anna. I hate seeing kids sick like this, and it takes a lot out of me when I do. Fucking cancer is an evil bitch with no mercy.”
I’m right there with him on that one.
“A cure can’t come soon enough, especially for these little guys. It’s unfair, and they shouldn’t have to go through this,” I say.
“I wish there was more that I could do for them.”
I place my free hand on his tattoo-covered forearm. “You being here…that brightens their day. I’ve seen the way you are with kids. They are in awe of you.”
“You know how I feel about that role model thing. I’m not the kind of person they should look up to.”
I raise one eyebrow. “And you know that I completely disagree with you on that—no matter what kind of shitty things you’ve done in your past. These kids don’t care about that at all. To them—you’re like Superman—real hero material, so stop beating yourself up over things you cannot change and focus on all the good you’ve done since you overcame your past.”
He leans in and kisses my lips. “You believe in me far too much, beautiful.”
I smile at him. “It’s not hard to have faith in someone who has an unbelievable heart.”
We round another corner and finally make it to Austin’s room. I let go of Xavier’s hand and nod toward the room. “Get in there and make that kid’s day.”
Xavier’s lips curve into a wicked smile as he leans in and whisper’s into my ear. “Tonight I plan on making your day.”
I giggle and then kiss his lips. “I’ll hold you to that.”
He winks at me while wearing a sly smirk and then dips through the doorframe into Austin’s room. I hover around just outside the door to watch Xavier in action. His tall frame paired with his broad shoulders seems even more intimidating when he steps up beside the bed in the room.
Xavier’s muscles work beneath the white button-down shirt he has on—completely straining against his impressive biceps as he stretches his hand out to the boy in the bed. “Hi Austin. I’m X.”
The child smiles as he shakes Xavier’s hand. “You know my name? Mom!” Austin whips his head in his mother’s direction who is sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. “He knows my name!”
“I heard.” His mother grins, and I can tell she’s doing her best to appear upbeat, but she fails to hide how truly tired she is in her eyes. My heart breaks for her. She tucks her dark brown hair behind her ear and then blots away the tears streaking down her face. 
Jimmy passes a baseball hat to Xavier with his stage name, Phenomenal X, pasted across the front. Xavier pulls a Sharpie out of his back pocket and scrawls his name overtop his photo on the hat before he hands it to the boy. “Here you go, little man.”
“Wow…” Austin’s face lights up like he’s just been given the greatest gift on earth. He studies the signature for a moment before slapping the cap onto his head, completely covering his bald scalp. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, champ.”
Austin quickly shakes his head. “I’m no champ, but you are. I can’t wait until you win that belt. It’ll look great around your waist. You are going to get the belt, right?”
That earns a chuckle from Xavier. “I hope so. Brian “Razor” Rollins is pretty tough and will be really hard for me to beat.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “You’ll beat him no problem. I know you will. Are you worried about Assassin coming after you when you win the title?”
The mere mention of Rex’s stage name is enough to make my skin crawl. That man is the pariah of the wrestling world as far as I’m concerned.
“I’ll let you in on a little something.” Xavier leans in a bit toward Austin. “Assassin is the biggest chicken I’ve ever met, so I don’t think beating him will be a problem at all.”
I cover mouth with my hand to hold back the smile as my man talks a bit of trash about his nemesis at Tension. Rex better be prepared when the moment does come that he has to face Xavier. Xavier has been itching to get his hands on Rex, and when the moment finally does come, I suspect there will be one hell of a show.
Xavier takes a few pictures with Austin and spends close to an hour with the boy before Jimmy advises him that it’s time to meet with the next child who has requested to meet wrestling’s resident bad-boy, Phenomenal X.   
 “All right, buddy. Looks like it’s time for me to go. Anything I can do for you while I’m here?” Xavier asks the boy.
Austin stares up at him with hope in his eyes. “Can I have a hug?”
Without hesitation Xavier leans down and wraps arms around the kid, paying close attention to not put any tension on all the IV and oxygen tubing that’s attached to Austin.
Warmth fills me at the sight. I wish Xavier could see what I see when I look at him. He’s always so down on himself and convinced he’s not worth all the love and support he receives from his fans. In moments like this, when his walls come down and he exposes the side of himself that’s caring, I know he deserves all the praise.
Xavier pulls away and smiles. “Take care of yourself, and never stop fighting.”
“I’ll be like you, X. I’ll never give up.”
Tears sting at my eyes as I witness the true meaning of bravery and strength from this little boy. More than anything I wish I could reach inside his frail body and rip out every inch of cancer.
“See you around, champ.” Xavier holds out his fist and Austin pounds his into it.
 When Xavier turns away from the bed and heads my direction, I can see that he’s fighting to keep his emotions in check. Tears fill his eyes but then quickly bats them away as he wraps his arm around me and leads me down the hallway.
I press myself against his side. He isn’t one to talk about his emotions, so I don’t dare push him to talk about what he’s feeling. The things I’ve learned about his childhood so far breaks my heart, and I’m glad he’s opened up to me as much as he has. One day, when he’s ready, I hope that he lets me in about everything that’s happened to him in his past.
For the next three hours Xavier repeats the scene that occurred in Austin’s room with three other children who have requested to meet him. He does an excellent job of showing each and every kid he meets how much he cares about them. He chats with them, and even plays a game of checkers with one. The few stories I’ve heard about from when he was a child are completely heartbreaking. He had it rough, and knows what it’s like to struggle as a kid, which is why I believe he loves giving back to his kid fans. Anyone who has ever seen him in action can tell it’s his most favorite part of his job.
“Last stop,” Jimmy says as we round the corner, heading to the last room on his list. “Jenny Stump—age fourteen.”
“A girl? That’s cool,” I say.
“I brought her a little something other than a hat.” Jimmy hands him a t-shirt and a pair of Phenomenal X inspired sunglasses.
Xavier flings the shirt over his shoulder and wraps his large fingers around the glasses. “Is she a cancer patient too?”
Jimmy nods. “Afraid so. It’s heartbreaking.”
We stop in front of the door and Xavier heads on in. It’s different from all the other rooms he’s been in. The child already has a visitor in her room.
A rather tall man who is only about an inch or two shorter than Xavier stands beside the bed. His hair is shaped into a funky black and blonde stripped Mohawk and he has a lip piercing, not to mention several other piercings in his ears. The clothes he has on screams rock and roll with his torn blue jeans and tight black T-shirt. Like Xavier, this guy’s arms are covered in intricate tattoos, giving him that bad-boy appearance. He’s super hot.
The man notices Xavier step into the room and his eyes widen. “Holy shit! You’re Phenomenal X!”
“Riff, language.” A sassy-looking redhead scolds the man and then smacks his arm.
Riff grimaces as he stares down at Jenny who is sitting up straight as a stick in her bed. “Sorry about that.”
Jenny waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. I listen to your music. I’m not offended by cursing.”
Riff chuckles. “Touché, kid.” He then turns his attention to Xavier. “We’ve never met, but I’m a huge fan. Your finishing move kicks ass. I’ve been watching wrestling since I was a little kid, and you remind me of some of the greats that made Tension so famous. I’m Riff, lead guitarist for Black Falcon.”
“The hard-rock band? I know your music. I work out to some of your tracks.” Xavier walks over beside Riff and greats him with one of those weird guy handshake hug things. “Call me X.”
“Wow,” Jenny says in awe as she stares up at two of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen. “I can’t believe you’re both here in my room. It’s like a Christmas miracle.”
“Sweetheart, I’d hardly call us that,” Riff says. “You—you’re the real miracle in this room.”
And just like that Xavier and Riff find common ground in making Jenny’s Christmas wish special. Both men dote on her, taking their time to talk with her to find out about her interests. It’s amazing how these hugely successful men can turn into putty in one little girl’s hands.
After Xavier gives Jenny her presents, he hugs her one final time. “It was awesome to meet you. Let me know if you want to go to one of the shows when you feel up to it. I’ll make sure that happens.”
“Same goes for any of the Black Falcon shows,” Riff adds. “We’ll get you backstage and you can meet the rest of the guys.”
“That would be so amazing. I can’t wait to tell all of my friends about this.” The giddy expression on her face is priceless. “They’ll be so jealous that I have two of the hottest guys in the world in my room.”
Riff’s lips turn up into a cocky grin. “You’ll get no argument from me on that. I am pretty.”
The redhead that’s been next to Riff the whole time laughs. “Jenny, please don’t encourage him. If his head gets any bigger he won’t be able to fit through the door when we get home.”
Jenny stares up at the woman, still wearing a dreamy expression. “You are so lucky to be married to him, Aubrey.”
Riff throws his arm around Aubrey’s shoulders. “Hear that, Kitten. Consider yourself one lucky lady.”
Aubrey shakes her head. “You are absolutely too much.”
“But you love me anyway.”
“That I do.”
Riff whips his head toward Xavier. “X, it was great meeting you. If you ever want to come to a show, let me know.”
Xavier nods. “Thanks, man. Same goes for Tension.”
Riff grins. “I will definitely take you up on that.”
Both men come out of Jenny’s room and then Riff heads down the hallway with his arm around Aubrey. I have to admit, I’ve never heard of Black Falcon before, but then again living with my father didn’t expose me to much more than contemporary Christian music. I’ll have to look his band up because Riff is such a nice guy that I want to support his work.
“Ready, beautiful?” Xavier asks as he threads his fingers through mine.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this man. Not only am I insanely attracted to him, but I’m completely captivated by what’s on the inside of him too—his mind and his heart. He doesn’t give himself enough credit for being an amazing person, but as long as I’m around I plan on making sure he realizes how special he is to me every day. Xavier might’ve been busy granting wishes all evening long, but tonight I realize the love that we share for one another is all I’ll ever need this Christmas. 

Phenomenal X:
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Rock My Bed:


Releases Dec 15th!!! 

New Stand alone!! 

No cliff hanger!! 

Wicked Reunion by Michelle A. Valentine

Order Here!! Amazon:


College sweethearts London Uphill and Jared Kraft were inseparable. He was a rising baseball star with a promising future, and she seemed destined to become “Mrs. Kraft.” Then a tragic night and a series of devastating mistakes caused Jared to walk away from his life, leaving London without any explanation and tearing the couple apart.
Five years later, Jared has reinvented himself by putting down the bat and picking up a guitar to play for the red-hot band Wicked White. In all that time, London hasn’t gotten over her forever love—or the pain—despite seeking solace in the arms of the one man no one dreamed she’d run to.
When Wicked White’s lead singer goes MIA, Jared finds the time—and courage—to return to his hometown and face the mess he made. He’s shocked at how London’s life has changed, yet he’s determined to prove their love is worth fighting for. Is this breakup too big for any hope of a reunion tour? Or can London open her heart to Jared once again?

Feisty Princess (A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale: Part Two) Chapter One

I’m fucked.
She tempted me—screwed with my head—and gained the upper hand.
She’s the enemy.
I can’t forget that.
My weakness jeopardized my company.
The Feisty Princess of Manhattan will not win this war.
No matter how fantastic her lips felt around my cock.

**Book Two in a Three Part Erotic Romance Series**

Super Naughty New Series from NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY Bestselling Author Michelle A. Valentine (Rock the Heart, Phenomenal X, Demon at My Door).
Part One: Naughty King
Part Two: Feisty Princess
Part Three: Dirty Royals (Coming Soon)

 Copyright © 2015 by Michelle A. Valentine Books, LLC

I stare at the wedding photo in absolute horror. “Oh, my God. Yamada was a witness? And is he wearing—” I lean in and take a closer look “—an Elvis costume?”
Alexander leans over my shoulder while I sit at the island in the kitchen of our suite, his spicy scent wafting around me as he gets a better view. “Shit.” He pushes himself back upright and straightens the dark blue tie he’s wearing. Even in a dress shirt, the man makes my mouth water.
I gaze up to see a pair of gray eyes trained on me. “Please tell me this is all a sick joke. Please tell me that we aren’t really married.”
“No joke, Dime Piece,” Yamada says as he walks into the common area of the suite with a set of brunette twins wearing matching schoolgirl outfits—one under each arm. “Yamada was there, and it was the dopest wedding ever! Wasn’t it, ladies?”
The two women giggle and nod in agreement. One even runs her finger suggestively over Yamada’s scrawny bare chest beneath the silk robe he’s still wearing. “Whatever you say, baby,” the woman purrs.
Yamada grabs the woman’s hand. “No touching in front of Dime Piece. Might make her jealous. Poor girl will never get a taste of a night with Yamada since she’s married to King now.”
The woman jerks her gaze to me, and I swear to God she hisses at me. I raise my eyebrows, and Alexander shakes his head.
“We need to talk about what happened last night, Yamada,” Alexander tells him and then adds, “Alone.”
“Okay,” Yamada says and then gives each of his companions a kiss on the cheek. “Time to go, lovelies.”
“But we want to play with Yamada some more,” one of the girls whines in a voice that mimics a toddler as Yamada turns them both toward the door. 
He opens the door and ushers the girls out, patting each one on the butt as they pass him. “Sorry, but Yamada’s a man in demand. Bye girls.”
“Yamada . . .” the girls’ voice cuts off as he shuts the door in their faces.
He turns and gives us a mischievous grin. “Bitches love Yamada.”
Alexander rolls his eyes. “I have no idea why.”
“Don’t be a hater.” Yamada struts into the kitchen and opens the door on the stocked refrigerator, reaching in for a bottle of juice. He twists the cap off his apple juice and then halts when he turns to take in the expression on Alexander’s face. “Why are you not the happiest madafaka on the planet right now? You’re married to the hottest chick Yamada has ever seen. What’s there not to be happy about?”
Alexander folds his arms over his chest. “This isn’t funny. What the hell happened last night?”
Yamada swallows and then shrugs. “We were all having fun. The two of you were fucked-up and when we passed a wedding chapel . . .”
“And let me guess. You convinced us in our drunken state that it would be so much fun,” Alexander finishes for him.
Yamada’s face pulls into a lopsided grin. “You didn’t take much convincing.”
Before Alexander has a chance to respond, the front door pops open and the same bodyguard with the braids who walked me up to Yamada’s party last night sticks his head through the door. “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Yamada, but we have a situation. The women you escorted out are sitting in front of the elevator demanding to speak with you about when they can see you again. Would you like us to physically remove them from the property, sir?”
“Let me talk to them.” Yamada shakes his head, muttering as he heads toward the door. “This happens every time.”
“Yamada . . .”Alexander calls after his friend but gets no response as the door closes us alone in the suite.
 Alexander turns around and rests his back against the counter in the kitchen area of our suite. The material of his pressed shirt strains against his bicep as he lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose while he squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t believe I allowed you to con me into this. How could I be so careless?”
This causes me to jerk my eyebrows up as my eyes widen. “Me? You actually think I want to be married to you?”
His eyes snap open. He holds up his left hand that’s still bearing a wedding ring and points to it. “Obviously, you do. You don’t honestly expect me to believe that Yamada came up with that shit by himself. He had to get the idea from somewhere.”
“Excuse me.” I lift my hand to interrupt. This man is completely out of his ever-lovin’ mind if he believes that. “Being married to you is the last thing on my wish list. Why would I ever subject myself to something like that?”
Alexander releases a bitter laugh. “Right. I know you’re smarter than that, Margo, so cut the act.”
My mouth falls open. “What act? My thorough disgust at the thought of being your wife isn’t for show—that I can assure you. My disdain for you is quite real.”
He stares at me through narrowed eyes. “I’m sure you’d like me to believe that, but Princess, I’m on to your game. Once Jack figures out if we’re legally married, I’ll have him slap you with an annulment so fast it’ll make your head spin. When I told you to marry some schmuck for money, I didn’t mean me!”
The moment those words leave his mouth, things begin clicking into place. My hungover brain obviously isn’t quick enough this morning to figure out that if, in fact, we are married, it means there was no time for any pesky contracts like a prenuptial agreement. Alexander King is screwed, and he knows it. He’s now at my mercy.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
Since he paints me to be the evil mastermind of this plot, I might as well go along with it.
I lick my lips and peer into the beautiful eyes of the man I love to hate. “I must say, Alexander, this new development changes things drastically between us. Don’t you think?”
“This changes nothing,” he growls. “This marriage is a mistake. No judge in the world will award you shit if you press the issue. Besides, we don’t even know if the marriage is legal.” He snatches the picture of the so-called wedding off the table and panic rolls through his voice. “A minister wearing a fucking Kiss costume can’t be a legitimate man of the cloth capable of marrying people legally, right?”
While I have to agree with him on that, there’s no way I’m about to let Alexander know that I’m having a hard time believing this whole thing is legit.
“Maybe you’re right . . .” I tilt my head. “And maybe you’re wrong. Are you willing to take a chance and find out? If our marriage is legally binding, I won’t let you off easy.”
There’s a long pause of silence between us, and I can tell the wheels are spinning inside that brain of his, He’s trying to figure a way out of this situation.
“What will it take for you to walk away from this quietly?” Alexander’s nostrils flare, and I can’t help smiling. Pissing him off is my new favorite pastime.
I turn on the bar stool that I’m occupying and cross my legs in the direction that Alexander is standing. It’s finally nice to feel like the one in control of this situation. For a while there, I felt like trying to save Buchanan Industries was a lost cause, but now things have definitely changed in my favor.
“You know exactly what I want,” I tell him.
He raises his eyebrow. “Forget it. I have too much riding on this Buchanan deal. I’ll take my chances with Jack eating you alive in court.”
 “Suit yourself. Everything that went on here this weekend will prove that you were a willing participant. Besides, your college buddy was your best man. Yamada wouldn’t let someone coerce you into something that you weren’t willing to do. I’m sure it won’t be too hard to convince a judge to see things my way.”  I shrug and then push myself off the bar stool. “I think I’ll go ahead and start with a call to our family attorney. I’ll have to start planning how I want to spend my new-found fortune of half your money.”
“I don’t know what planet you’re living on, Margo, but that isn’t going to happen.” His gray eyes harden. “You can’t afford to take me on.”
“What’s yours is mine, darling. So it seems to me like I can, thanks to your sprawling wealth.”
His nostrils flare. “You are such a bitch. I can’t believe for one moment that I—” He quickly cuts himself off and clenches his hands into fists by his sides. “Pack your shit. We’re going back to New York. Now.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
Alexander smirks. “Being your husband earns me that right. Now pack.”
I open my mouth to tell him to take his orders and shove them right up his bossy ass, but before I have a chance, he turns and walks toward his room, slamming the door behind him.
The second I’m sure that I’m alone, I drop my head and rub my forehead to try to soothe the pounding headache that’s still raging inside. How the hell could I allow myself to get this out of control last night? I have so much riding on saving the family business. Being married to Alexander might fuck everything up.

 Feisty Princess (A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale: Part Two): 

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Wicked White Chapter 1

First Chapter intro peek for Wicked White!

Chapter 1 

This place is a fucking circus. Sure, on the outside it may appear to be a well-oiled machine, but to someone who lives it every day, the music business is a crazy ride. My band is headlining Summerfest tonight. One of the biggest music festivals in America, held in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, for eleven straight days. It’s pure insanity here. I sit on display like a monkey in a cage under a white-topped tent in the blazing ninety-degree weather while a line of fans as far as the eye can see wait to get my signature. I’ll give the fans one thing—they’re dedicated, because this heat is miserable. Jane Ann, my road manager, hovers behind me as the fans come through one by one to get their thirty seconds with me while I sign whatever crap they just bought from the merchandise booth with my band’s name on it, Wicked White. I hate it when she does that—monitors my behavior. It’s times like these when she’s a thorn in my side. If she wasn’t so damn good at her job, and the reason the band gained the notoriety it has, I’d tell her to take a hike. “Ohmygod! Ace, I love you,” the busty blond wearing a too-tight tank top squeals as she approaches my table. “Will you sign my chest?” I fight the urge hard to not roll my eyes at this chick. This is the part of my job that I absolutely loathe—signing another human being’s skin. Most of these women have no shame and will flop their tit out on a dime for the thrill of me touching it with a Sharpie. It kills me that I can’t refuse. Jane Ann has made it perfectly clear to me what my role is as a rock star—I’m to smile and sign whatever they ask me to. “Never refuse a fan. The media is everywhere. One negative video posted to the Internet can ruin your career and the brand we’ve worked so hard to create for Wicked White,” Jane Ann told me last time I complained. As much as it pains me, I smile at the blond and wave her in closer. “Sure, babe. Just point to the spot.” The woman giggles and her friends shove her forward, almost daring her to approach me. She grabs the front of her shirt and yanks one side down along with her bra, far enough that half of her nipple is exposed. She runs a finger slowly over the mounded flesh and licks her lips. “Right here.” I know it’s an act of seduction, and on most men I’m sure this would get the girl noticed, possibly gaining her backstage entrance from a horny motherfucker looking to score with a groupie. That shit don’t work on me, though. I want a nice girl. Someone who I could take home to a mother—if I had one. The groupie sighs happily as I etch my name with a black Sharpie across her warm skin. It’s completely illegible, but that’s irrelevant considering she’ll more than likely sweat it off before the day’s end. The rest of her friends, following suit, have me sign their bodies in different places as well. “After these three, wrap it up. We’ve got to get Ace backstage,” Jane Ann tells the guy in the yellow security shirt standing next to my table. Great. Nothing like pissing off a couple hundred fans after they stood in line for an hour to meet me. Jane Ann needs to implement the ticket idea that I suggested earlier this year, but I know she’ll never do it. Limiting tickets limits merch sales, and there’s no way she won’t squeeze out every penny that she can, so that’s out. After I finish with the last woman, the guard says, “All right, folks, Ace has to go.” A collective sound of boos flows through the air as I stand and turn away from the table. Jane Ann waits for me with her flaming red hair tossed casually over her shoulder. The bright red leather pants she’s wearing are about two sizes too small, and the low-cut blouse shows entirely too much skin, but that’s her normal, everyday gear. She threads her arm through mine and stares up at me with her blue eyes as she leads me out of the tent toward the backstage area. “The women are really starting to take notice of you, Ace. You’re well on your way to becoming a true sex symbol. Soon Ace White will be a household name.” I shake my head, not caring a bit if the world knows the stage name the record label gave me. “I could give a shit about that. You know all I care about is the music. Speaking of . . . did you tell the label I plan on writing the songs for the next record?” She sighs and rolls her eyes. “I did, Ace, but you know how the bigwigs are. They want to make sure the songs appeal to the mass market, so they want to bring in the same producers you worked with on the last album. Johnny Moses has some terrific songs picked out that really fit your voice.” I pull back, halting her in place. “Hold up. You’ve heard the writer’s demos already and didn’t send them to me?” “You’ve just been so busy making appearances that I figured you wouldn’t have time and would be happy with what I chose. Don’t you trust my judgment anymore?” She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Remember, it was me helping you change your style that took you to this new platform. This is the level we’ve been dying to get to.” I shake my head, my dark hair falling into my eyes. “My music would’ve eventually gotten me there.” She pats my chest as a look of pity crosses her face. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, but we both know it was me and the choices I made for you that pushed you to this level, not those sad little acoustic songs you sang to bar crowds of twenty people. This is the big leagues, kid. You’d do best not to throw a fit over something as simple as a song choice. You need to give the fans what they’ve grown to expect from you. They’re what bring in the money. Trust me.” This should shock me, her treating me like a puppet on the string that she controls, but it doesn’t. It’s true that over the last two years since she discovered me, Jane Ann has morphed me into a million-dollar singer. Fronting a band that Mopar Records created should’ve been a dream job, but it’s not. I don’t get to sing any of the music that I enjoy singing—and writing? Forget it. The label won’t trust me with creative liberties one bit. That’s what pisses me off the most. I’m an artist. I don’t want to keep recreating someone else’s vision for my entire career. I want to be free to express myself and control my own success or failure by allowing the fans to hear my original songs, not ones I’m forced to sing. But it’s been made very clear to me by Jane Ann time and time again that if I want to continue to have label backing, I have to play what they give me until the record label says otherwise. I know she’s patronizing me, but if I don’t want to lose everything I’ve worked for, I have to go along. For now. “All right, but can I at least listen to the new songs I’ll be recording?” I ask, completely deflated. A satisfied smile pours over her face. She’s clearly delighted I’m giving in. “Of course, darling. After tonight’s show I’ll play them for you.” Once upon a time I believed this woman was actually my friend. But that was before the piles of cash were rolling in and I became her primary source of income. She told me our friendship didn’t have anything to do with money. Having friends has never been one of my strong suits in my last twenty-six years, so I desperately wanted to believe that Jane Ann was someone I could actually trust. She seemed genuinely to have my best interests at heart regarding my music career when I first met her, but now I’m not so sure that she does. It was lonely growing up as a foster child, bouncing from place to place—never really having a steady home. I never had time to make friends, not real ones anyway. That’s what led me to music. It was the one constant in my life. The one thing no one could ever take away from me. I spent most of my youth alone in my room, learning to play every instrument known to man. Focusing on something other than the fact that my real mother didn’t want me anymore seemed to keep me out of trouble. I walk next to Jane Ann as we wind our way through the maze of roadies and stagehands working to get everything ready for Wicked White’s set. “Are the rest of the guys here?” “Yes. Already warmed up and ready. They were waiting until you were done with your autograph session to go over tonight’s set list with you.” “Good,” I say. “I hate when they’re late and we have to go round them up.” “I’ve spoken with them about their tardiness and explained just because they were the best the studio could find for the job doesn’t mean they aren’t replaceable. Everyone is replaceable.” Even me is what I’m dying to say, but know that she’d just laugh and yet deny it. Jane Ann is a label talent scout but has put that position on hold to be my tour manager since this is my first major tour and I have issues with trusting random strangers. Jane Ann also gets a percentage of all my money like an agent would. Last year alone Wicked White grossed over six million dollars from the tour, not counting any of the money made on music downloads and miscellaneous shit that got sold with the band name on it. Wicked White is not a real band, but a product. The cell in my back pocket buzzes with the alert of an incoming call, so I grab it and check the screen. The name that flashes isn’t one that I’ve seen in a long time, but it’s always nice to hear from the one person that I actually care about. I pull away from Jane Ann. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” After I take a couple steps, I press the green button. “Hey, Mom. How are you?” “Ace Johnson?” The deep voice on the other end is one that I don’t recognize. It puzzles me how this strange man knows my real name, and why is he calling from my foster mother’s home number? “Yes. Do I know you?” “No. I’m afraid not. I’m Officer Butler with the Franklin County Sheriff’s Department, and I’m afraid that I have some upsetting news. Ms. Sarah Johnson was found in her home unresponsive moments ago. She’s been transferred to Grant Medical Center in critical condition. As you’re listed as her son in her address book, we thought you would like to be notified.” His tone is very businesslike as he rattles off the specifics on where the hospital is located, but I’m barely registering what he’s saying. I swallow hard as I’m faced with the hard reality that the one person in the world that gives a shit about me may not make it. I need to be with her. I have to get there. Now. “Thank you, Officer. I’m on my way.” When I end the call, I stuff my phone into my back pocket and turn to find Jane Ann staring at me with narrowed eyes. “Where exactly are you on your way to?” I square my shoulders. I know she’s not going to like what I have to say, but it doesn’t matter. Not Jane Ann, or anyone else for that matter, is going to stand in my way of getting to Mom. “My mother is sick. She needs me.” I turn in the opposite direction of the stage, but Jane Ann is quick to follow on my heels. “You can’t leave now!” “Watch me,” I say. “Ace, wait!” Jane Ann grabs my arm and jumps in front of me to halt me from going any farther. “Let’s think reasonably. You’re on tour. There are fifteen thousand people out in that crowd tonight that have paid their hard-earned money to see you. Just go out and do the show, then we’ll talk about you driving to Ohio tonight. You can’t make the fans suffer. It will kill your career if you stand them up.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. A huge part of me wants to tell her to fuck off and just go, but there’s a part that hates the idea of losing my career. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I’m at, so I’m torn. After a few moments of debate, I sigh, deciding that I can just jet after our set. “Fine. Let’s get this show on the road.” Jane Ann smiles, her white teeth sparkling, when she’s figured out that she’s gotten her way. “You’re making the right decision, Ace.” Anger boils within me that I’m stuck here, unable to leave like I want for fear of what I’d lose. Jane Ann hooks her arm through mine and leads me toward the stage again. Once we make it to where the rest of the guys in my band are standing around waiting to take the stage, they all glance up in my direction. The guys have on their standard 100 percent white stage attire, a corny gimmick Jane Ann thought would be good as our signature look on stage. JJ’s blue eyes meet mine, and then he quickly glances in the opposite direction. He always looks pissed off. The dark hair and tan complexion he has just increase his menacing appearance. JJ Kraft, known as JJ White to the world—another ridiculous demand by the label for us to all use White as our last names on stage—is the lead guitarist for Wicked White, but that job isn’t the one he really wants. It’s been difficult becoming a cohesive unit with the guys in the band, namely because we never knew each other before the label slapped us all together and told us if we wanted a deal, we needed to get along and be professional. Money and fame are two things that are difficult for any band to struggle with once they come their way, but it’s even harder when you have no personal connection with one another. JJ has always had his eye on my job. He wants to be the front man so bad he can taste it, and I guess having to follow my lead is enough to set him off every damn day. It’s like he’s just biding his time, waiting for me to screw up so he can jump in and take my spot. “I’m glad all you guys are here on time,” Jane Ann addresses the band as we stand in a circle. “I see my little warning of imposing fines for tardiness has made a difference.” “Not all of us have you as our personal fucking wristwatch,” Tyler, our drummer, answers snidely, a piece of his dirty-blond hair falling into his eyes. “Why don’t the rest of us get the same coddling that Ace gets? You always take it easy on him.” Luke, our redheaded bass player, laughs beside him, obviously in total agreement that I’m babied. I could try to defend myself—tell these guys to fuck off because I don’t get any special treatment, but I can’t. I know I get treated differently. Time and time again when I ask Jane Ann to stop making a fuss over just me all the time, she tells me that I’m the true talent of this band—the rest of the guys are a dime a dozen. But me, I’m the star—the one people pay good money to see. “So what’s our set list like for tonight, Your Highness?” JJ asks mockingly. My nostrils flare as I attempt to rein in my already boiling anger. “Same set as last night, but we’ll be canceling the next couple our shows on the tour.” “What?!” Jane Ann and JJ ask in unison. I flinch, completely flustered as to why Jane Ann acts like this is news to her. We just talked about me leaving a few minutes ago, so this shouldn’t shock her. Now JJ, on the other hand, I knew he’d be pissed. If we don’t play the dates booked, we don’t get paid. “What the fuck do you mean we’re canceling?” Luke asks, his fiery tone matching the color of his hair. “We’ve booked enough dates to be set for a long time. We can’t go canceling shit now.” “Look, guys, I’m sorry, but my mother is sick—” “That’s horseshit. You don’t even have a mother. You were a fucking orphan.” “Shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you,” I fire back. JJ takes a step closer to me. “That sounds like a threat.” “You bet your ass it was.” My pulse races under my skin as JJ and I stand almost toe to toe while we stare each other down. I’ve got him by at least two inches with my six-foot frame, but he’s got about sixty pounds on me. He’s a gym rat where I pride myself on speed and agility with running. I don’t like to fight. It goes against the mellow life I want to lead, but I’m not afraid to defend myself or anyone else that may need my help. Jane Ann wedges her small body between us when she sees that neither of us plans on backing down anytime soon. “Both of you knock this shit off right now. I won’t tolerate physical violence of any kind. This isn’t going to happen if you want to stay on Mopar’s payroll.” JJ takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Just keep Boy Wonder here out of my face.” I tense and begin to lunge forward, but Jane Ann’s hand on my chest stops me. “Cool it, Ace. This is neither the time nor place.” She turns to the rest of the guys. “You three, go wait side stage.” I take a deep breath and blow it out through pursed lips as the guys walk away from me. Never did I imagine a music career being this full of utter bullshit. Not only do I constantly have Jane Ann up my ass about doing what’s best for Wicked White, but the label and the band love to jump on me every chance they get. I fucking hate it. I wish I’d never signed that deal. I wish I still played to small crowds and lived in the land of obscurity. Jane Ann whips her head back in my direction. “What in the hell were you thinking telling them you’re canceling shows? You don’t have that kind of authority.” “But you just said that I could go after the show tonight,” I argue. “Why wouldn’t I tell them I’ll be gone for a couple days?” She shakes her head. “I never said that you could go. Do you know how much money we’ll lose if you don’t show up at those next two shows? You aren’t going anywhere.” I open my mouth to protest, but Jane Ann begins shoving me in the direction of the stage the moment Wicked White’s name is announced. “Now get out there.” Flabbergasted and almost in a dreamlike state, I allow her to keep pushing me until I’ve got one foot on the stage. Tyler, Luke, and JJ begin playing the first song in our set list, and I stare at Jane Ann. This woman isn’t my friend. I turn and take in the faces of each of my bandmates one by one. None of them are my friends. They could give a shit less about me. I just told them my mother is sick and they all blow me off like my feelings don’t matter. I thread my fingers into my bronze hair as it hits me hard. I hate these people just as much as they hate me, and I can’t be around them for one more second. I don’t care what I’m losing. It’s nothing compared to my sanity and the self-worth I’ll lose by sticking around and continuing to be used. To make sure they get my message above the deafening music that’s playing around the outdoor stage, I raise both of my hands to the guys and flip them the middle finger before I storm off stage.

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Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Naughty King is Live!!

The King Always Gets His Way.
Women, business, pleasure: When I want it, I get it.
I’m never denied.
Including her. 
I will break her.
I will show her who the king of this city really is.
The Feisty Princess of Manhattan will learn I am not a man that can be tempted.
No matter how d@mn bad I want her in my bed.
What Reviewers are saying:
"OH MAH GAWD! This book was HOT. It has all of my favorite things rolled up in one perfect package." --Heather, A Book Whores Obsession
"Naughty King was freaking awesome, really freaking hot, and fanfreakingtastic. I'm freaking out here, can you tell?" --Jen, The Book Avenue
"I'm still wiping the tears from my eyes away. This is the most hilarious book I have read probably in 2015. I literally almost peed my pants." --Sammies' Book Blog
"Wow, I LOVED this one!!! This was my first time reading anything from Michelle A. Valentine, and I’m not sure why seeing as she’s been a huge hit with a lot of my Goodread friends, which is why I jumped at the chance to read Naughty King." -- Cathy, Forever Reading Book Blog
"If you do not add this one to your TBR list, then you are going to miss one h*ll of a good book." -- Hooker Heels Book Blog
Book one in a three part erotic romance series from NY Times and USA Today bestselling author Michelle A. Valentine (Rock the Heart, Phenomenal X, Wicked White, Demon at My Door).
Naughty King (A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale: Part One)
Feisty Princess (A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale: Part Two) -- Coming Soon
Dirty Royals (A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale: Part Three) -- Coming Soon

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Naughty King: Chapter One

I STARE DOWN AT THE woman on her knees in front of me. Her eager hands work quickly to undo my belt then they move on to my zipper.
She tosses her blonde hair back and grins. “I’m gonna suck your cock so good, baby, you’ll be begging for more.”
I thread my fingers through her mass of curls and fist them, forcing her to look up at me. “Coming in your mouth has a two hundred dollar price tag. You’ll do the job I paid for, and then you’ll get the fuck out. I’ll want nothing more to do with you after that. Understand?”
She narrows her brown eyes at me. At first, I think this one might actually have a little backbone to her, and may just tell me to go to hell like I deserve, but she doesn’t. They never do. Instead, she gets right to work rubbing my semi-hard cock through my boxer-briefs.
The only thing women see when they are in my presence is money—I’m surrounded by it. They see the material shit I have and their eyes light up like they’ve just found their golden fucking goose.
It’s been both a curse and a blessing since I was twenty years old and inherited my father’s billions. Every single woman I’ve ever been with has convinced herself that she’d be the one to tame me. That her magical pussy would make me fall madly in love with her—that I’d marry her and sign over half of my fortune.
Not fucking likely.
I know this looks bad. Most people would be both disgusted and curious as to why a devastatingly handsome, shrewd, successful businessman like myself would stoop to hiring a hooker. Truth is? It’s fucking convenient. I send a text, and I get whatever I’m in the mood for. No questions asked.
That’s why for the past few months I’ve relied on paying for escorts from a discreet service. It’s less hassle than trying to find a slutty socialite to bang. I did that for two years straight, and it created more work for me than the lay was worth because I had to deal with kicking their annoying asses out the next day.
That shit gets exhausting.
The blonde reaches down inside my shorts and then shoves them down, resting the waistband under my ball sack. There’s a wicked gleam in her eyes as she licks her lips and then pops my head into her mouth.
Now we’re fucking getting somewhere.
The bitch goes to work licking, sucking, and deep-throating my cock. Her saliva coats my shaft, and I lean my head back against the leather couch in my office as I finally start enjoying what I’ve paid for.
There’s nothing like a blowjob to start my day off right.
The handle on my office door moves, and my head snaps up just in time to make direct eye contact with my new secretary, Margo, as she steps into my office, unannounced, closing the door behind her. She’s been doing that for the past two days. This girl needs to fucking learn how to knock before she comes waltzing in here. I’m about to teach her that lesson right now.
I fully expect my mousy new employee’s cheeks to flush as she rushes from my office, but she surprises me as she stands there, only allowing her mouth to fall open as she takes in the sight of the woman pleasing me.
The blonde attempts to stop, but I’m enjoying making Margo uncomfortable, so I place my hand on the back of her head and order, “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
Margo gasps, raising a well-manicured hand to her pouty lips while her blue eyes widen behind her dark-rimmed glasses.
It takes her a minute, but when she turns to leave, I have a different idea in mind. “Margo, if you walk out of that door, you’re fired.”
She halts mid-step at my domineering command. She needs this job. She and I both know it.
Margo smoothes back her black hair which is still perfectly in place in her uptight bun, and slowly turns back around to face me. “Why do you want me in here?”
I give her my cockiest shit-eatin’ grin. “Because I want to stare at you while I come in this bitch’s mouth.”
She shakes her head. “This is absolutely insane. I’m not going—”
“You will stay,” I order again. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make a phone call to Daddy and tell him that our little deal is off. Your call, princess.”
She folds her arms over her chest, and I raise my eyebrow in challenge to her. That bitch honestly thinks she’s better than I am. She’s so uptight and highfalutin. Ever since she walked in here two days ago, I’ve wanted nothing more than to break her. I’ve been thinking of creative ways to show Margo that I run shit around here, and that the only reason I’ve even allowed her to have a job in my office is because her father begged me. Part of the deal to buy out his company included that she’d have a secure job.
Margo needs to know that I’m her new daddy. She’s no longer the princess of a million-dollar empire because as soon as I ink this deal to bail her father out, I’ll own her, just like I’ll own her family’s business.
I lick my lips while I wait on Margo to make her move. Her eyes flit down to my mouth and then down to the blonde who is now gagging herself to please me.
I lift my hips off the couch as I hold the blonde’s head in place and fuck her mouth while Margo watches me.
Margo’s chest heaves and my eyes are drawn to the tops of her tits mounding out of the top of her blouse.
I quickly close my eyes because I don’t want to think about Margo’s tits, but for some strange reason, I can’t stop. Suddenly, it isn’t some random prostitute sucking me off. It’s uptight Margo in her naughty wannabe schoolteacher outfit.
I slide my teeth along my bottom lip then bite down as I suck in a quick breath. My eyes snap open, making direct eye contact with Margo as I come hard, shooting my load down the blonde’s throat as my employee watches with a scowl on her face.
A shudder rips through me as I bask in the afterglow of one fine orgasm. I smile as the blonde unwraps her mouth from my cock and licks the tip of my dick to make sure she swallows down every last bit of come.
Margo continues to shoot daggers at me. This is all kinds of wrong and a fucking sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen, but I honestly don’t give a shit.
All I care about is making sure my point is crystal clear with my new bitch of an employee—she is here to serve me. Not the other way around.
I sit up, stuffing my cock back inside my underwear before zipping my pants up. “Margo, pay the lady.”
Margo’s plump lip curls in what I’m sure is an expression of thorough disgust. “Pay for your own fucking whores.”
Her words shock me at first, but then I find myself highly amused. I burst out in a deep laugh, which only makes Margo’s face even redder before I fish my wallet from my back pocket. I lay two hundred-dollar bills on my knee for the hooker while never taking my eyes from my heated secretary. “You’re free to leave now.”
Relief floods Margo’s face as she turns, but I stop her. “Not you, Margo. I was talking to my . . . guest here.”
The hooker stuffs the money down in her bra and then winks. “You tasted yummy. Request me anytime.”
Margo rolls her eyes behind the woman and shakes her head, but I simply nod at the woman. “What was your name again?”
“Candy.” She grins.
“Of course it is,” Margo scoffs.
I push myself up from the couch and button my jacket, putting myself back together. “Sorry, Candy. I never request the same girl twice. More than once and you bitches get clingy and forget I hired you just to get me off, not to talk. Matter of fact—” I glance down at my watch. “—it’s time for you to get the fuck out. I’ve got a meeting to prepare for.”
Candy’s nostrils flare. “You can’t treat people like this.”
“Of course, I can. I’m Alexander King, and I can do whatever the fuck I please. Now leave before I call security and have you forcibly removed from the property.”
“Asshole,” Candy calls over her shoulder as she leaves without another word of protest.
You would think being called that would cause me to flinch, but no, I revel in the name. I like that women hate the way I treat them. It ensures they keep their distance.
The door slams and Margo points her gaze in my direction. “I assume you’re done with me now that the show’s over?”
Since we’re alone, I take my time to rake my eyes over Margo. She still appears angry enough to chop my dick off.
I want her to hate me.
I want to make it clear that we are not friends.
“Margo . . .” I can’t help smirking as I adjust the cuff of my jacket. “I’m just getting started with you.”
She arches a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I laugh. “You seem like a bright girl—I mean, not just anyone earns two degrees from Harvard. You know that sooner or later you’ll be on your knees before me.”
She laughs bitterly. “You can’t be serious. I would never be one of your two-dollar whores.”
I take a step toward her, reducing the gap between us to mere inches. She’s close enough that I can feel her breath coming out in warm little puffs. “Don’t pretend like that didn’t turn you on. I saw you watching—waiting your turn like a good girl. Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance someday.”
“Fuck you,” she spats.
“Not yet, but you will.” I trace the exposed flesh on her chest with the tip of my finger. “You’ll beg me for it. You’ll beg me to fuck you, hoping that it’ll be you who changes my asshole ways and makes me fall in love.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I press my finger to her lips, cutting her off. “You will. I have that effect on women, but you’re smart enough to know that if you do that—if you let me have you—you’ll quit when you don’t get your way like the spoiled little brat your father has raised. And we both know that you quitting will piss off Daddy, don’t we?”
“I needed a secure job that will pay the bills after my family goes bankrupt. You know that. It’s part of the deal with my father,” she argues, but I’m not stupid enough to buy into that.
“Don’t lie to me,” I scold her roughly, and she stiffens. “We’re both highly intelligent human beings so let’s not play dumb. You’re here to spy on me—to figure out a way to stop me from buying your father’s company for pennies and then sell off everything he’s worked for piece by fucking piece, in turn making me an even richer man.”
She lifts her chin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”
I shrug. “Maybe so, but I’m honest and just to show you that infiltrating my business doesn’t scare me one damn bit, I’m going to allow you to stay. But know this: I’m going to make your life a living hell while you’re here. I’ll have you dying to fuck my brains out or needing to walk away before you kill me with your own bare hands. Either way—you’re fucked.”
Margo takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, giving me a chance to study her features. She wears the dark hair on her head pulled back, but I imagine that when she lets it down, it hangs in long loose waves around her shoulders. When she opens her eyes and gazes up at me, I notice the blue of her eyes standing out against the contrast of her dark hair, and it hits me—I bet she’d be an amazing lay.
She licks her lips, not in a way that’s meant to be sexy but in the way people do when they’re nervous, and my eyes are instantly drawn to her mouth.
Dammit all to hell. This would be so much easier if she was ugly—to humiliate her by playing with her emotions and knowing there’d be no way in hell I would actually fuck her except out of spite. The problem is that’s not the case. She’s exactly my favorite type of woman to fuck: beautiful and bitchy. When I take her, I can’t allow myself to enjoy it. I won’t give her that satisfaction.
Margo stares at me for a long moment, and just when I think she’s about to lay into me again, she twists her hand around my tie, yanking me closer. Without warning her tongue darts out and touches my top lip, causing a tiny shudder to tear through me before she pulls back with a sly smile on her face. “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. King. That prediction implies that I would actually fall for your juvenile antics of seduction.” Her hand presses against my chest and then moves down to my stomach, drifting even farther south. “Those boyish tricks would never work on me. I’m a woman who always gets what she wants.” I let out a low grunt of half pain and half excitement as she grabs my semi-hard cock through my slacks. Stilling her hand on my cock, she leans into my ear and whispers, “When I want it.” The urge to throw her onto my desk and fuck her senseless surges through me. Never has a woman asserted herself with me, and as much as I fucking hate to admit it, I’m totally turned on by it.
Margo kisses my cheek before she pulls back and releases a hearty laugh. “Who’s fucked now?”
Angry that I allowed myself to be distracted for one moment, I shove her away a little rougher than I mean to. “Get the fuck out. We’re done here.”
Margo laughs as she takes a step back toward the door. “Oh, Mr. King, that’s where you’re wrong again. We both know this little game of ours has only just begun.”
“I said we’re fucking done with this conversation.” I glare at her.
“As you wish.” She smirks and actually fucking curtsies before heading out my door, invoking my hatred even more.
The moment the door closes, I plop down in my chair and loosen my tie. How in the holy hell did that just happen?
My nostrils flare and I take a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure and not throw something. The one thing I fucking hate is to be shown up. I’m always the winner—number one at all times. She will not take control of this situation.
No fucking way.
I won’t allow that to happen. Ever.
If Margo Buchanan wants a fucking war with me then, a war is what she’s going to fucking get.

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