Release Day Blitz: Engage (The Disciples’ Daughters #3) by Drew Elyse

Posted October 27, 2016 by bookstobreathe in Book Blitz/Promo, New Release / 0 Comments

Release Day Blitz: Engage (The Disciples’ Daughters #3) by Drew ElyseTitle: Engage
Author: Drew Elyse
Series: The Disciples’ Daughters #3
Published by Self-Published
Release Date October 27, 2016
Genres: Dark Romance, Erotic Romance, MC Romance
Pages: 255
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase From: Amazon US
Purchase From: Barnes & Noble
Purchase From: Amazon UK
Purchase From: iTunes
Purchase From: Kobo
Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.

They came for her in the night.
When she wakes, she’s in a cell.
She has no idea if it will help, but it is the only option she has:
She tells them she belongs to the Savage Disciples MC.

A Disciple will fight like a savage when it counts.

Years ago, he lost everything.
Now, the club is the only thing Jager allows himself to care about.
Nothing matters but his Savage Disciple brothers.
At least, until she arrives and he has a decision to make.

This biker has no idea what choosing to engage could mean to a Disciple's daughter.

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Title: Engage

Series: The Disciples’ Daughters

Genre: Dark Erotic MC Romance

Cover Design: By Hang Le

Author: Drew Elyse

Release Date: October 27, 2016

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Prologue

Jager

The sound wasn’t what woke me. I had no idea why I’d stirred in the middle of the night. Usually, I was a sound sleeper.

No, the sound came after I’d already started to wake. I lost the seconds I had trying to place it. It came from the hallway, a mix of solid knocking and rattling.

A picture frame, the answer came to me.

It was only that knowledge that had me moving. There was no reason for any of the frames I had hanging in the hall to make that sound. Not unless…

The door to my room flew open. There were men there, three of them. I didn’t waste time staring. Instead, I scrambled to the side of the bed. I just had to get to the nightstand. There was a gun in the drawer—the gun Dad had taught me to shoot and insisted I have.

I got the drawer open, but never reached my only saving grace. One of the men was on me, grabbing me around the chest and hauling me backward. I fought. I kicked and hit at him, my training lost and raw instinct to fight or die kicking in. Another man came close, and I screamed with all I had.

I tried to fight him back, both legs kicking out, but his partner turned me. I felt the sharp prick at my arm. It didn’t take long. Even as I continued to scream, to try to break away, darkness took over the edges of my vision, closing in until there was nothing left.

*****

When I woke, I was facing a wall covered in its own layer of dirt, broken up only by a rust-colored track of water from a leak above.

Where was I?

I tried to remember, tried to fight the fog to grasp onto anything that would tell me how I ended up in such a place.

I was home, in my room. I’d gone to bed…

The picture frame.

Like a dam breaking, it came back. The men, fighting them off, losing consciousness.

My head swam, my vision hazy. I had to figure out where I was, how to get out of here. I moved, feeling an ache like I had never known through every muscle. Then, a stinging pain in my arm. I looked there, seeing the IV. I followed the cord from my arm to a bag hanging on the wall above my head.

It was only then I noticed I wasn’t alone.

I shot to sitting, jerking back to the wall. But what I saw wasn’t a threat. What I saw was three women, all of them frail, malnourished, and dirty. To my left were iron bars. We were in a cell, me and those women. Soon, I would look like they did.

“Where are we?” I found the voice to ask. My throat was dry. So much so, it hurt to speak. That was when I noted how my skin felt like I hadn’t showered in days.

Had it been days?

“We don’t know,” one—she looked to be the oldest—answered. Her voice sounded as rough as mine. When was the last time they’d been given water?

“How…how did we—”

She shook her head sadly. Beneath the grime, I realized she was, in fact, the oldest—maybe five years older than me, no more. Her dark hair was long, matted, her skin pale, her eyes flat.

“Sometimes, they take us, sometimes…” she trailed off, looking to her side. I followed her gaze to the woman next to her. She was blonde like me, and looked to be about my age from what I could see of her face as she peered over her knees. “Sometimes, we are sold to them.”

Oh God.

My eyes moved past the blonde, terrified someone had given her over to this fate. What I saw hit me harder than anything I had experienced since I’d woken up.

The last woman was no woman at all. She was just a girl. She had light brown hair that needed washing weeks ago. Her cheeks were sunken in. She had been down here a while.

“How old are you?” I couldn’t help but ask.

She didn’t talk, just hid her face behind her hands, the woman who had spoken to me already answered for her.

“Fifteen.”

Fifteen. She was still a child. What were they doing with a child?

What were they doing with any of us?

*****

It was hours before the man came down the hall, appearing in front of our cell. I’d long since dealt with the IV. I didn’t have the finesse to pull the needle free without it tugging and scratching beneath the surface, but the discomfort was worth it when I watched a small flood of whatever they were injecting me with escape. Tricia, the woman who had been talking to me since I woke, told me it was a sedative mix. If I left the IV alone, I’d go back under. I’d already been there for three days. How long I’d arrived after they’d taken me was anyone’s guess. The last thing I wanted was to lose any more time in this place.
Tricia also told me the names of the others. Katia, the blonde, and Sarah, the young girl.

“I’ve been here about two months, I think,” she explained. “Sometimes it can get hard to track how long it’s been. They come once a day with food and water. That’s the only real way to tell time down here.” There was something in her expression when she mentioned the provisions they were given, something disgustingly similar to longing.

“But why are we here?” I asked, not even sure if I expected her to have an answer.

She didn’t respond, but I could see in her face that she did know.

I met her eyes and repeated, “Why are we here?”

Her gaze turned sympathetic, as if she weren’t down here as well, as if she hadn’t been here far longer than I had. She felt bad for me because whatever she was going to share was going to make this whole nightmare worse.

“They intend to sell us.”

Sell us. I wouldn’t even let my mind wander to what that might mean. I forced myself to seal off thoughts of who would want to buy us. I had to keep myself together.
Letting my mind go there was not the way to do it.

After that, there wasn’t much to say.

Then, the man came to the cell. He was brutish, large, and outright intimidating. He didn’t say a thing as he approached the metal bars holding us captive. He simply
inspected the nearly empty IV bag, seeing I’d freed myself from the line attached to it.

I had no idea if what I was about to do was stupid—whether it would get me punished, hurt, or worse. I just knew where I was was about as bad as it could get. I had to try something.

“There’s a motorcycle club, in Hoffman, Oregon. They’ll buy me. They’ll pay whatever you ask,” I practically shouted at him.

He stared at me, not responding.

“The Savage Disciples. They’ll buy me.”

He walked away without a word.

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Excerpt

Jager

“Hi,” I heard from beside me and saw the older Davies woman sidle up.

“Hey,” I replied to Ash.

“So,” she went right on, “where’s Ember?”

“How should I know?”

She looked innocent, but it wasn’t some showy, wide-eyed, porn-acting look. It was just her keeping her expression clear. She shrugged. “You two seem…close.”

There were a lot of ways to define close. Ember and I might have been a fuck of a lot of one of them, but we weren’t any of the rest.

“No.”

“Huh.” I didn’t know whether Ash was playing a game or just using this as a way to continue her mission to get close to me. She’d been at it for a while, always seeking me out when the opportunity arose, like right then when the club was hosting a party. Those opportunities weren’t exactly few and far between, and she always took them.

“She seems really sweet,” Ash went on. “It makes it even more horrible, what she went through.”

She wasn’t wrong. That shit was always fucked, knowing it happened to Ember made me fucking homicidal.

In a softer, deeper voice, Ash said, “I don’t think she’s dealing with it.”

She saw the breakdown that afternoon in the clubhouse plain as I did. She saw Ember around with the brothers acting like everything was normal. She hadn’t seen Ember wake from a nightmare, something I knew was a common occurrence from the way she reacted. It was clear she didn’t need to to suspect the truth. I was pretty fucking certain Ember wasn’t dealing with any of it.

I expected the next thing out of Ash’s mouth to be a suggestion that I try to help Ember, like I’d helped her, but that was not going to fucking happen. I’d laid that shit out for Ash—as much as I ever had, anyway—because I wasn’t sure anyone else was going to be able to help her. Not to mention, Ash had already been very spoken for. I could have unloaded all that shit, given her every fucking part of my messed up past and dropped to my knees to beg her to be mine, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Ember’s situation was different, and there were a fuckload of people around ready to do what they could. To add to that, our situation was different. I kept on fucking her and burdened her with all that shit, she’d get ideas she had no business getting.

I wasn’t in the market for an old lady. Not now, not ever.

Ash didn’t preach to me about helping her. No, the next thing from her mouth was, “Oh, wow.”

My eyes followed her line of sight.

Fuck.

Good fucking God, Ember was trying to fucking kill me. First with her excitement over that goddamn car of hers. I’d never cared for the bimbos they put in bike and car magazines, sprawled out half-naked and oiled up on whatever vehicle they were spotlighting. If I wanted that kind of thing, I’d get porn. It had always been about looking past them to whatever actually had my interest. Watching Ember, not even done up a bit compared to those women, leaning all around that hotrod of hers to give it a look, I found I really fucking understood. Ember and that beauty were the shit teenage wet dreams were made of. I thought the hard on she gave me right then would never fucking deflate.

I wasn’t even going to start in on that tight ass dress she wore to the fight.

With both those and the images burned in my brain of her tied up and creaming for me, I thought I’d gotten a good sense of how crazy the woman could make me.

I hadn’t even scratched the surface.

It seemed, being stuck with just the Hoffman mall to get herself stocked, she’d had to settle.

Now, with the guys getting Ember’s shit from Seattle, she was able to give it all. And that all was a fuck of a lot more.

She strutted into the yard on a pair of red heels I was damn sure she’d be wearing with nothing else. I’d work her until her skin was as bright as the fucking things before I fucked her in them.

That was how fucking hot she looked. I was ready to lose it over the fucking shoes alone.

The rest of her…there were no words. She looked like the hottest fucking pin-up ever. If they’d been able to photograph her and stick her on the postcards they sent to the boys during the world wars, morale would have been at an all-time high. Fuck, you put her on postcards now, you’d have guys enlisting just to get a copy.

She had on a pair of short shorts that went up to her waist. I couldn’t see her ass, but the way they fit her like a glove everywhere else told me that view would be spectacular. On top, she had a red and white striped halter shirt. It looked like a sailor get up, and if I had to get on a fucking boat to get it off her, I would. Her blonde hair was all pinned up away from her neck, her bangs rolled, and she had a red bandana tied around her head. Even from across the yard, I could see her lips were painted red to match the rest. I loved red lips. Red lips made a fucking mess and they looked great with a black ball gag.

I was getting way too worked up for the situation. There was maybe a millimeter of restraint keeping me from marching across the yard, pushing her down to her knees, and getting a look at how much of that lipstick would rub off on my cock.

Did she come in that car of hers? Jesus. Her in that outfit, climbing out of that hot rod, bending over the hood…fuck, I was making a fucking porno of her in my head.

I finally looked away from her when Emmy ran across the yard again, this time toward Ember, yelling, “You look pretty!”

Kid didn’t know the half of it.

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4

Clutch (The Disciples’ Daughters #1)

Amazon US

3

Once a Disciple,
forever a Disciple.

Cami was born into the Savage Disciples MC, but she ventured out to build a life of her own away from the club. She’s engaged now, living a new life despite missing the bikers that raised her. Overall, she’s… fine.

Sure, fine. She’s fine with the fiancé who is more interested in position and image than the woman in his life. She’s fine with the fake people around and the suffocating passive aggression. She’s fine with the fact that she is turning to drugs to self-medicate.

A Disciple will fight like a savage for what he wants.

When Gauge tags along to visit his club brother’s daughter, he can’t believe the two women he meets: the fiery daughter of a biker and the puppet with the blank affect. And yet, they’re both Cami.

He sees the fire beneath surface, and he wants to watch it burn. He wants to rip away the man smothering her like a wet blanket. He wants to see the flames consume that cookie-cutter future-wife facade to the ground and dance with her in the flames.

When this biker clutches onto a Disciple’s daughter, there is no letting go.


Shift (The Disciples’ Daughters #2)

Amazon US

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Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.

After the death of her father, Ash learned an important lesson: being a Disciple is dangerous. The club her father loved, the club that had been their family, took him from her. She couldn’t stay and wait for the day it would take the man she loved from her, too. So, she left.

Now, she’s the one in danger, and the Disciples are the only ones that can keep her safe. She has no choice but to return to the club and the man she left behind.

A Disciple will fight like a savage for what is his.

Sketch has what he needs: his tattooing, the club, and his bike. Anything else would require a heart, and his was ripped out of his chest a long time ago. It wasn’t coming back.

At least, not until she did.

His heart isn’t the only thing Ash brings with her, though. She has a daughter. A daughter old enough to be his. A daughter Ash claims might not be. But in his heart, Sketch knows the truth. That little girl is his… just like her mom.

This biker knows one thing:
a Disciple’s daughter’s return is about to make his whole world shift.

About Drew Elyse

Drew Elyse spends her days trying to convince the world that she is, in fact, a Disney Princess, and her nights writing tear-jerking and smutty romance novels.

When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found over-analyzing every line of a book, binge watching a series on Netflix, doing strange vocal warm ups before singing a variety of music styles, or screaming at the TV during a Chicago Blackhawks game.

A graduate of Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English, she still lives in Chicago, IL where she was born and raised with her boyfriend and her fur babies Lola and Duncan.

So, what did you think? :-)