Sunday, November 12, 2017

#Read a Dirty #Excerpt from Down & Dirty: Jag by Jeanne St. James

Down & Dirty: Jag (Dirty Angels MC, Book 2)
By Jeanne St. James

Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance, MC Romance

On sale for $2.99 for a limited time or FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

Amazon Paperback:

5 Star Amazon Review: “Amazing Series: Oh my gosh I LOVE this series! This is the second book in the Dirty Angels MC series and as much as I liked Zak’s book, and I really, really liked Zak’s book, I think I like Jag’s even better. Jag is a total trip, the man is super sexy and annoyingly alpha, but he’s also sweet and hilariously funny when it comes to Ivy...she definitely pushes ALL his buttons.”


Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rules. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this is Jag’s story…

The only thing Jag, DAMC Road Captain, loves more than his custom bike is Ivy. He’s wanted her ever since he could remember. However, through the years, he’s had to watch her date anyone but him since she avoids dating bikers like the plague. Instead, she gravitates toward the complete opposite: geeks and nerds. Something Jag will never be.

Smart and independent, Ivy wants to be the property of no man. Growing up in the club, she knows firsthand how they treat women. She regrets the mistake she made by dragging Jag upstairs to his room at the club one drunken night. Ever since then, she’s been doing her best to keep him at arm’s length, though it’s proven difficult. Especially when she finds out his secret, which only endears her to him even more.

Between secrets, lies, and a violent tangle with a rival club, can these two passionate hot-heads find the love and solace they’re looking for in each other’s arms? Or will everything just tumble down around them?

Note: This book can be read as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, biker slang, cursing, some violence and, of course, an HEA. If you like alpha males who like to take charge, this book is for you.


She didn’t want sweet sex from him. She wanted it hard. She wanted it rough. She wanted it angry and hot.
She could get the boring shit anywhere else.
That’s not what she wanted from Jag.
And if she had to torque him up a little to get what she wanted...
So be it.
Ivy watched him continue to stroke his cock. Every movement of his hand made her clench deep inside. She wanted that hand, those fingers, on her.
“Are you going to keep that to yourself or are you going to give it to me?”
“Fuckin’ gonna give it to you, baby. You’re still dressed.”
“I didn’t know I had to undress mys—” Before she could finish, he grabbed her ankles, yanking her onto her back and down the bed. He ripped her shorts down her legs and off her feet, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder.
Then he shoved her cami up over her breasts, burying his face between them, snagging both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them hard, making her cry out in both pain and pleasure.
Yes. This.
This is what she wanted from him. Not that sweet shit he tried to give her last time.
His teeth scraped her skin before sinking into the side of her breast. Her body bowed in response, and she threw her head back, crying out once again.
“This what you want? This?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she yelled, her eyes rolling back.
“Fuckin’ Ivy,” he muttered before pulling one of her nipples deep into his mouth, scoring the tip with his teeth. She grabbed onto his thickly muscled shoulders, digging her nails in, then raked them up his neck.
He shuddered against her and groaned around her nipple. Nipping along her skin, he came nose to nose with her.
“Want it rough, that what you want?”
Something flashed in his eyes when she hissed, “Yes.”
He finished tugging her cami over her head and flung it across the room. “Your tits are so goddamn sweet,” he murmured before sucking the other nipple into his mouth, he gripped her other breast and squeezed hard.
Yes, that was how she liked it.
His cock pressed against her thigh and she couldn’t wait to have him inside her. But first...
“Are you hungry, yet?”
He lifted his head, met her gaze with a smile. “Starvin’, baby.” Pushing back to his knees, he shoved her legs up, throwing them over his shoulder, and buried his face between her thighs.
“Fuck yes,” she shouted to the ceiling. She squirmed when he chuckled against her swollen, soaked lips. He sucked her clit hard, and she dug her heels into his back, sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him close, encouraging him to get even closer.
Her whole body jerked with each flick of his tongue against her overly sensitive nub. Then skilled fingers were inside her, curling, finding the spot that made her hips dance even more. He teased her with his mouth, his tongue, tortured her with his fingers... until she couldn’t take any more.
“I’m coming,” she wailed as the blood rushed through her, her body vibrated against him, around him. He bit hard into the flesh of her inner thigh. “Oh fuck!”
“My baby likes it rough.”
She ignored the “my” part of “my baby” when he sank his teeth into her other thigh. “Fuck, Jag, yes!”
“Goddamn,” he whispered, pulling himself up and over her, going face to face. “Grab a condom,” he demanded, his eyes dark, heated.
Ivy slipped her hand under her pillow and held one up with a smile. “Number eight.”
“Fuckin’ Ivy,” he muttered, shaking his head, but she didn’t miss his grin before he slammed his lips down on hers. His tongue plundered her mouth and his hands dug deep into her hair, pulling her head back, arching her neck. He broke away and tugged on her hair even harder.
He sounded out of breath when he asked, “Like your hair pulled?”
Fuck. “Yes.”
“Like your ass spanked?” He scraped his teeth along her throat.
Ah fuck. “Yes.”
He lifted his head. “Those nerd boys of yours give you what you need?” When she didn’t answer him, he tugged her hair again. “Answer me, Ivy. They give you what you need?”
She was damned if she answered him, damned if she didn’t. She knew the thought of her being with other men bothered him. It shouldn’t since she had lost her virginity a long, long time ago. But she knew it did. And at twenty-eight, she’d been through quite a few men, but she was sure his conquests outnumbered hers by at least triple. If not more.
The old double standard reared its ugly head.
And though some of the men she’d been with could get as “down and dirty” as a biker, most of them didn’t. Or couldn’t. It just wasn’t in them.
“Takin’ your silence as a no,” he said, pushing himself back on his knees once again. He snagged the condom she had hidden earlier, ripped it open, and rolled it on. When he was done, he met her gaze. “I can give you what you need, baby.” He smacked his palm against his bare chest. “Me. I’ll give it to you any way you want it. Long as I’m the only one in here.”
There he went again, demanding exclusivity. The fear of being tied down to one man, hell, tied down to a biker to boot, went through her.
She was young. She had more life to live yet before she settled down.
If she ever settled down.
At this point, she saw no reason to do just that. Be with only one man for the rest of her life.
She enjoyed her freedom. Or as free as she could be being part of an MC.
But what was staring at her right now was the opposite of freedom.
“Not promising you jack,” she whispered, knowing it would piss him off, but it had to be said.
A muscle twitched in his hard jaw and his eyes narrowed. Then he grabbed her and flipped her over roughly, yanking her hips up and back, then with not even a slight hesitation slammed into her with a grunt.
“Fuckin’ woman’s gotta fight me at every turn.” With each slam, he grunted. With each impact, the air rushed from her lungs. She buried her head in her pillow, her lips parted as she struggled for breath.
The crack of his hand against her ass surprised her more than hurt her. And when she laughed, he froze mid-motion. She twisted her neck to look behind her. He was staring at her with what sort of looked like a confused expression on his face. But his nostrils flared and his eyes burned like coals. Then, with a grimace, he dug the fingers of one hand into the flesh of her hip and smacked her hard again with the other.
Her body shifted forward with the impact, but she shoved herself back, impaling herself on him. “That’s it, Jag, fucking give it to me.”
“Goddamn,” he grunted and did it again, just as hard. Her skin began to burn where he spanked her.
“The other side, too,” she encouraged him, breathing hard now, tilting her hips, taking him as deep as she could.
He switched sides and smacked her again.
“Fuck, yes,” she screamed into the pillow, gripping the sheet tightly in her fists.
“For fuck’s sakes, Ivy,” he barked.
“Shut up and do it!” she yelled at him.
He did it again, not as hard this time. Then his body collapsed over her, covering her, and he sank his teeth into her shoulder. She quivered uncontrollably beneath him, her groan muffled. She squeezed him hard with her inner muscles and he grunted against her skin.
“Again,” she encouraged.
When he bit the back of her neck, she cried out. She released her grip on the sheet and found her own clit, pressing, circling, rubbing until her body vibrated on the edge. And then she found what she was looking for... release. Her pussy clenched hard around him and he groaned, straightening back up, now holding onto both hips, but holding still as she came down from her high.

About the Author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today Bestselling erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine.

Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here:

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at or sign up for her newsletter:

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