New Release + Excerpt + Giveaway – LONER by Janine Infante Bosco

IT’S A LONELY RIDE TO HELL!
Are you ready for Linc and Kelly?
Happy RELEASE Day to Janine Infante Bosco!

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Synopsis

Linc

A man who can’t visualize his future will always revert to his past.
To where he came from and all the ways he failed.
The murder and mayhem that changed his life and darkened his soul.
The legacy of who he is will burn through his veins and ominously guide him to hell.
A place where he pays not only for his sins but the sins of his father as well.
A hustler by nature, a loner by choice, I am the spawn of Satan.
I am Lincoln Brandt and I am the son of Cain.

Kelly

Reckless and rebellious, I’ve spent most of my life running away from one mistake only to chase another.
At the end of my rope with nowhere left to turn, I’m about to make the biggest one of all.
Face to face with the bastard who broke me, I lay it all on the line for him.
My heart and my life.
Heaven is overrated and the ride to Hell doesn’t have to be lonely.
The stakes are high.
The risk great.
It’s do or die.
Together we’ll ride.
Forever we’ll burn.

EXCERPT

LONER © Copyright 2018 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco.

Standing off to the side, surrounded by Shady and Sin I finally spot him and watch as the three of them raise their shot glasses. Through the fog of smoke, I can still see him flinch as the liquor slides down his throat and the smile that appears as Sin drapes his arm around his shoulders.
My stomach twists with need as I continue to stare at him. Wishing I could be next to him, craving the feel of his arms around me and his hot breath against my ear as he whispers all his filthy promises.
“What’re you doing out here?” My uncle’s deep voice calls from behind, startling me.
Tearing my eyes away from Linc, I turn to face him and lift my water bottle.
“I was thirsty,” I lie.
Lifting a glass to his lips, he narrows his eyes. My shoulders slump under his intense scrutiny and I know he sees right through me.
“Get the stars out of your eyes, Kelly,” he growls, lowering the glass to his side.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I argue. With his free hand, he grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around so I’m facing the party again.
“Look at him,” he demands. Stretching an arm over my shoulder, still holding the glass, he points to Linc. “You see what I see?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I know there is no way he can possibly see Linc the way I do. He doesn’t see the parts of him that belong only to me.
“He belongs to his brothers, to his club, to the reaper on his back and that’s all he’ll ever belong to,” he says. “Men like us don’t stick and the sooner you realize that the safer that young heart of yours will be.”
Men like my uncle are stubborn old mules who believe everyone is cut from the same cloth and has the same beliefs. Explaining that Linc and I share a special bond would be a wasted effort and the objection sitting on my tongue fades away as Linc tries to hide his smile by swiping a hand down his face. He’s not like my uncle. He’s not like any of these guys.
“Do yourself a favor and forget about him because I promise you if you don’t he will break you. It won’t be his intention and you won’t see it coming but, it will happen and the both of you will be helpless against it.”
Having had enough of his brutal warning, I spin around and glare at him.
“Thanks for the advice,” I mutter.
Without another word, I brush past him and hurry back to my room. Once inside, I chuck the bottle of water against the wall and crawl into my bed. My head hits the pillow and I stare up at the ceiling, digesting Uncle Al’s words.
As the hours pass it becomes harder for me not to believe he was right. Things are going to change for us. He will get pulled deeper into the club and the year we spent getting to this day will be a memory. A stepping stone on the path to hell.
Deciding I should quit while I’m ahead, I turn on my side and reach for the light on my nightstand. As I switch it off my door opens. I smell him before I see him. Leather and whiskey mixed with the musk of his cologne. The lock slides into place and when I roll over I find Linc leaning against my door. The smile he was trying to hide earlier, shines unabashedly back at me, making him look younger.
“There you are,” he says, kicking off the door. “Why are you in here?” he questions, stepping further into my room. Pushing the comforter down, I sit up and lean against the headboard.
“Where else would I be?”
“My room,” he replies, shrugging off his leather vest. Carefully, he drapes it over the chair in front of my desk and I watch as his eyes linger over it a moment before he turns back to me. “Our room,” he amends.
The declaration that his room suddenly has become ours causes my stomach to flip as he walks around my bed.
“I didn’t want to impose,” I tell him as he sinks down onto my mattress. Spreading his legs, he bends over and pulls at the laces of his moto boots. My mouth grows dry and I forget only seconds ago I was declaring him part of my past or that I spent half the night picturing him with other girls.
“I saw you,” he rasps. “Standing in the hallway, I saw you.”
“I went to get a drink,” I murmur. Kicking off his boots, he twists his frame to face me and rolls up his sleeves.
“I saw you and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to taste your pussy again,” he says.  Pulling the comforter down to my knees, his large hand grabs the inside of my thigh. “I want to eat you, feel you come on my tongue and then I want to fuck you harder than you ever imagined you could be fucked. You think you can handle that, Pinky? Can you handle me and everything I plan to do to you?”
Heat pools between my legs as his hand slides further up my thigh. His thumb strokes over the soaked scrap of lace covering me and he smirks.
“Thanks for leaving your panties on my lamp this morning,” he says. “You’re never getting them back.”

ABOUT AUTHOR JANINE INFANTE BOSCO

Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong-willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

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Cover Reveal + Giveaway – LONER by Janine Infante Bosco

Loner cover reveal banner

Are you ready to ride with Linc and Kelly?
Happy Cover Reveal Day to Janine Infante Bosco!
Check out the AWESOME new cover for LONER, releasing February 25th!

Loner cover

LONER (Book Four) The Nomad Series
by Janine Infante Bosco
Publication Date: February 25, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense
Cover Designer: JB’s Cover Obsession Design
Model: Lance Jones
Photographer: Wander Anguiar Photography

Synopsis

Linc

A man who can’t visualize his future will always revert to his past.
To where he came from and all the ways he failed.
The murder and mayhem that changed his life and darkened his soul.
The legacy of who he is will burn through his veins and ominously guide him to hell.
A place where he pays not only for his sins but the sins of his father as well.
A hustler by nature, a loner by choice, I am the spawn of Satan.
I am Lincoln Brandt and I am the son of Cain.

Kelly

Reckless and rebellious, I’ve spent most of my life running away from one mistake only to chase another.
At the end of my rope with nowhere left to turn, I’m about to make the biggest one of all.
Face to face with the bastard who broke me, I lay it all on the line for him.
My heart and my life.
Heaven is overrated and the ride to Hell doesn’t have to be lonely.
The stakes are high.
The risk great.
It’s do or die.
Together we’ll ride.
Forever we’ll burn.

Add to Goodreads

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Pre-order today!

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Excerpt

© Copyright 2018 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco.

When you wake up from a coma and are told there is a fifty-fifty shot of you walking again, it’s hard to think about anything else. Nothing mattered after that. Not the reasons I joined the Satan’s Knights MC or why I took up permanent residency in Brooklyn. I didn’t give a fuck about the men who I proudly called my brothers or the legacy of Cain. All that consumed me was misery and suicidal thoughts.
At twenty-six years old, I had already lived longer than I should have.
Longer than I deserved.
I had survived both parents, my first love and the heartbreak of losing Pinky. I hustled and conned more people than I can count and pulled the trigger on more than a dozen lives and still, that wasn’t enough sins for the devil to call me home.
Well, I wasn’t about to live the rest of my life in a chair. Riding was all I had left in this world and now that was gone too. Everyone has a breaking point and having to ask one of my brothers to hold my dick whenever I took a piss was mine.
I certainly wasn’t thinking about my finances or lack of health insurance. When I learned the hospital was looking to throw my ass on the street—crippled and all—it was the final nail in the coffin and another reason to end it the nightmare.

However, committing suicide was a hard feat for me thanks to Jack Parrish. The former right hand of my father had a rotation of brothers guarding over me. Between the sea of leather and the constant flow of doctors and nurses, I was never alone long enough to go through with my plan.
It became impossible once Wolf got wind of the hospital’s intentions to throw me into some state-funded rehab. The son of a bitch came riding in on his white horse to save the day, taking a mortgage on a house he owned free and clear. Not only did he pay my outstanding medical bills but, he also cut them a check for my last surgery where they removed the rods from my legs.
If this was a movie, now would be the part where I tell you I miraculously walked after that and all is well. However, this is no mainline cinema production and after the rods were out of my legs all that changed was the fact one leg had healed better than the other. Which meant I could balance twenty pounds of weight on my good leg. I’m six foot three and a hundred and ninety pounds—you do the math.
I regained mild sensation in my limbs but, that don’t matter much either. They still feel like dead weight every time the physical therapist tries to get me moving.
With no surgical procedure left to try, I’m being discharged from the hospital and the fate of my legs relies on an hourly paid therapist who doesn’t really give two flying fucks if I walk again. The doctors here have also referred me to a shrink—apparently, it’s alarming when a crippled bastard doesn’t clap his hands in elation after finding out he’s being discharged. I suppose to them fresh air is a mediocre consolation prize.
After being locked inside a hospital for months, one might look forward to being thrown into the world that chewed him up and spat him out. He might even find comfort at the thought of going home but, I didn’t have a home. All I had was a room in the Satan’s Knights clubhouse and like my legs, the explosion left my home, my bed and all my belongings in ruins.
Upon my arrival to the concrete jungle, I along, with the three nomads Wolf managed to turn, all took a room in the clubhouse. After the explosion, I heard Styker, Cobra, and Deuce had relocated to a motel. However, as a man who has been stripped of his independence, that wasn’t an option for me. The motel wasn’t wheelchair accessible and even if it was, I needed someone to help me wipe my ass. Wolf, of course, thought that someone should be him and while I’ve been wiggling my toes like a trained chimp at the circus, he had his other monkey’s—Stryker, Cobra, and Deuce— turn his house into a crippled man’s oasis.
Now, it’s discharge day. The papers have been signed and instead of rolling out of here on my Harley, there is shiny new wheelchair that offensively awaits me and a bag of clothes sitting on the foot of my bed that I refuse to have the nurse help me put on.
If I don’t comply maybe they’ll throw me on the street like yesterdays trash and be done with me.
A knock sounds on the door, dragging me away from my thoughts. I’m about to tell the nurse to go fuck off somewhere when I hear Wolf’s deep voice echo off the sterile walls.
“Why the fuck are you still wearing that dress?” he growls, curling his lip as he eyes my hospital gown with disdain. “Riggs is downstairs waiting with the cage.”
He grabs the bag of clothes sitting at the foot of the bed and dumps them onto my lap.
“The fucking clown charges by the hour,” he adds, clapping his hands together.
And you thought I was being a smart ass when I said we’re all his monkey’s.
A sane man would think better than to argue with Wolf. After all, he didn’t get his name because he had the disposition of a lamb. Like a master predator, he lives amongst the wild and silently stalks in the shadows. He destroys anything that stands in his way and defends what he holds dear. Loyal to a fault, he is the heart of the Satan’s Knights.
He’s also a glutton for punishment.
But, so am I.
A fact we both surrender as we continue to stare at one another. This isn’t his first attempt at saving me when I don’t want to be saved.
“I’m not going,” I tell him definitely as I swipe my hand across my lap and send the bag flying off it.
“The fuck you talking about?” he grinds out, combing his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. The times have changed. Murder and mayhem have hardened Wolf and as a result, his patience has thinned.
“I should’ve died in that explosion,” I tell him. Balling my fist, I lift it and pound it against the center of my chest as I glare at him. “I wanted to die,” I reveal. “But, no one asked me what I wanted. No one gave me a fucking choice.”
Stryker pulled me from the debris.
Jack Parrish and his vice president, Blackie, gave consent every time they sliced me open.
And if it was up to Wolf, he’d keep tugging on those puppet strings.
“I’m done letting you motherfuckers play God. From here on out, I decide what happens to me.”
“Let’s get something straight, kid,” Wolf growls. “I didn’t lie to my brothers and sacrifice my loyalty to my club for nothing. I put my life on the line for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I remind him.
“No, your mother did and before your father killed himself, I swore that if you or she ever needed anything I would make sure you got it,” he fires back.
The instant the words leave his lips, he lifts his chin. Regret fills his eyes and apparent frustration wears on his face as I narrow my eyes.
“I thought my father died from hepatitis.”
“You and the rest of the world,” he mutters, scratching the scruff lining his jaw.
I’ve always known my father was a dangerous man. Being the former president of the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club, he was no choir boy. He was a criminal. a hellion who lied, cheated and stole from others. A stone-cold killer with ice in his veins.
Since a young age, the story of his death had been ingrained in my brain and it goes like this, Cain was a drug addict. Years of swapping dirty needles finally caught up to the menace and he contracted Hepatitis C. Two years after he was diagnosed, he learned he also had liver cancer. The doctors gave him six to eight weeks. He survived two.
It’s the story my mother told me anytime I asked about my old man.
The very same tale Wolf has spun for the last eight years. I never had a reason to doubt him. Especially when every man wearing a reaper backed him with the same story. Sure, Wolf lied through his teeth but, I was never on the receiving end of those lies and every deceitful thing he’s ever said or done was to protect me.
At least that’s what I thought until now.
Until this very moment when all his lies—all the secrets he’s harbored—they pour from his tortured eyes like venom. The exposed truth weighs heavily between us and as before he can spin another bullshit story, I demand the truth.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask angrily.

“I came here for answers,” I remind him. “You were on the balls of your ass, desperate to save what my old man created and, I offered myself to you on a silver fucking platter. I figured I’d repay my debt and in the process, I’d learn more about the man who fathered me. All I got in return was a rap sheet a mile long, more faceless enemies and a fucking wheelchair. I’ve undergone the knife more times than I can count and, I can’t fucking walk. You owe me something!”
Silence engulfs the room as I watch Wolf take two steps toward me, closing the distance between us. Leveling me with a glare, he rolls his neck from side to side. It’s the first time I fear what will come from his mouth but, I’ll never admit that.
“Lies,” he calls, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Yeah, I was desperate. Yeah, I took you up on your offer but, don’t for one second tell me it was to repay a debt. I never asked you for a goddamn thing. Everything I did for you was done without ever expecting something in return. You chose to hightail it out of North Carolina because you fell for my niece and you needed an excuse to ease your fucking conscience after bailing on her. You want truth? You want answers? You’re a fucking pussy just like your old man,” he roars.
Anger rolls off him stunning me into silence. It’s not the vulgar comparison to my father that shocks me. It’s the fact Wolf knows about my relationship with Kelly. I thought I did a good job hiding my feelings for her. After all, I had succeeded in making her believe she was nothing more than a willing a body. A much needed distraction to pass the time. A reason to move on with a life I was tired of living.
She never knew she was everything that forced my vital organs to work.
The air that inflated my lungs.
The blood that pulsed through my veins.
Everything.
And when I closed my eyes, she was the glimpse of heaven I never deserved.
She was everything but the only one who knew that was me.
Me, and now Wolf.
“Wipe that look of surprise off your fucking face,” he growls, gripping the side rail of the hospital bed. His knuckles turn white and I imagine he’s wishing it was my neck he’s strangling. “I knew it from the moment she stormed into Sin’s chapel that first day. I knew it when you looked at her and saw a piece of yourself.”
His words are like gravity to my memory, pulling me down and grounding me back in time to the day I first laid eyes on Kelly Monroe.

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Alex and Ani Bracelet & an Amazon Gift Card
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About the Author

Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong-willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Newsletter | Amazon | BookBub


Cover Reveal + Excerpt – FROM THE RUINS by Janine Infante Bosco

FROM THE RUINS
(A Satan’s Knights Novel)
by Janine Infante Bosco
Publication Date: September 26, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense

Are you ready to get ruined with Pipe and Layla?
Happy Cover Reveal Day to Janine Infante Bosco – Author!
Check out the AWESOME new cover for FROM THE RUINS!

PRE-ORDER your copy now!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2wtQoCc
Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2u9Ugb3
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Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2hvpl6W

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2vqslHx

Cover Designer: JB’s Cover Obsession Design
Model: Michael Joseph
Photographer: Reggie Deanching, R+M Photography


SYNOPSIS

Pipe

In every man’s life there comes a day of reckoning. It’s the day darkness is exposed and sinners are punished for their trespasses.
A day when loyalty is destroyed and a man is left in ruins.
When he walks away from his club and loses his religion.
Whoever said from the ruins they will rise again never walked a mile in my shoes or the pair of red ones I was left holding.

Layla

He’s bitter, cold and angry.
He’s seen his share of heartache.
Lived through tragedy and despair.
He’s my neighbor.
The man I know should stay away from.
The man who will destroy what’s left of me if I get too close.
He’s Lee Jameson, and I’m Layla Milano.
This is our story.
The story of two people left in ruins forced to rise again.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, offensive language, and mature topics. Not recommended for people under the age of 18***

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$20.00 Amazon gift card & 8×10 Print of Michael Joseph
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EXCERPT

Excerpt From The Ruins © Copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco.

Stalking down the wooden steps, I cross my lawn to hers and prepare myself for another argument. Deciding I should’ve dragged my ass back to bed and damned the world to hell, I pound my fist against her front door.
Let that punk kid give me lip.
Or better yet, let her husband get in my face.
I’ll welcome them to the neighborhood.
The door swings open and my gaze travels downward to the pipsqueak staring up at me like I’m the big bad wolf.
Great.
“Uh, hey, kid,” I start, running my fingers through my hair as a pair of big brown eyes level me.
“You’re the man from last night,” she says, shaking her little finger at me. “The man on the lawn who broke my mom’s car.”
“I didn’t break your mom’s car,” I grind out.
“But Tommy said—”
“Look, kid is your mom or dad home?” I ask, cutting her off, not really looking to go head to head with some little half pint. Huffing, she crosses her arms against her chest and rolls her eyes dramatically.
“We don’t live with daddy anymore. He and mommy are divorced,” she reveals, uncrossing her tiny arms as she plants her hands on her hips and angles her head. “Dad is living in our old house which sucks. Shit, don’t tell my mom I said sucks. She gets all pissy when I curse but it’s not really a curse right? I mean you should hear some of the things that come out of my mom’s mouth.”
Jesus, this kid.
Rubbing my temples, I look past her hoping to find her mother but the mud wrestler ain’t nowhere in sight and the kid continues to ramble on, revealing all her mama’s secrets.
“Tommy says we’re here because mom can’t afford a house in the city,” she adds. “But, I think it’s also because mommy hates daddy and wants to be far away from him.” Her lips straighten into a thin line as she glances down at the floor seeming to be in deep thought. “That sucks too,” she mutters with a frown.
Dropping my hands from my face, I shove one into my pocket and stare at her. Not sure what to say, not really understanding why the fuck I care, I press my finger under her chin and lift her eyes to mine.
“Divorce sucks kid,” I tell her.
“You said sucks,” she says.
“Yeah, you did too,” I point out, watching as the frown fades from her lips. Lifting her chin, she studies me curiously. Having a pair of little eyes on me, eyes that are full of wonder is a sobering moment for a bastard like me. It makes me think about how I’m perceived in the eyes of a child.
My thoughts are quickly jarred when I hear half-pints mother shriek from deep inside the house. Then I hear her other two kids shout and before I realize what the fuck I’m doing, I’m following the little girl into the house. Running into the kitchen, the kid comes to a complete stop and I stand behind her, taking in the chaos.
Water spurts from under the sink like a waterfall and the mud wrestler holds a pot in front of her as if to catch the fucking water. The older boy grabs another pot and tries to help his mother while the other girl covers her face with her hands.
“Make it stop,” the girl cries.
“I don’t know how!” the mother shrieks, emptying the pot into the sink. Her son goes sliding across the floor and she’s quick to grab his wrist before he hits the floor as the water rains down around them making it clear they’re fucked.
Stomping through the puddles soaking the kitchen, I brush past them and kneel underneath the sink to turn the water valve off. As I twist it closed, I spot the busted pipe. Suddenly the commotion comes to a standstill as the water trickles off and silence fills the kitchen. Slipping my head out from under the sink, four sets of eyes peer back at me like I’m a fucking unicorn. Wiping my hands along the front of my shirt, I focus on the mud wrestler as she seems to be the least judgmental of the four.
“The main pipe under the sink cracked. I shut the water off for now,” I explain as she continues to stare at me in disbelief. Unable to help myself, I take her in too. Dressed in a pair of pajamas with her hair piled high on top of her head, she’s quite a looker. The thin tank top of her pajamas is soaked, molding to every curve of her body, revealing a narrow waist and hips that a man holds onto. Lifting my gaze higher, my eyes zero in on her tits. Her nipples are hard and fully visible through the wet shirt, leaving nothing to my imagination. It’s hard to believe the tall boy standing next to her is her son or that any of these children came from that body.
Forcing my attention away, I reach for the towel hanging on the back of one of her chairs and toss it in her direction.
“Might want to cover up,” I tell her, eyeing the boy standing behind her, wearing the same stumped expression as his mother.
Recovering she catches the towel and crosses her arms against her chest, hiding her perfect tits from my view. Last night it was too dark and I was too drunk to notice her hazel eyes or how full her lips are. My gaze meets hers and I realize the view up top is just as sweet as everything from the neck down.
“What—how did you get in here?” she stammers, finally finding her voice. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to thank me for stopping the waterfall in her kitchen but she just looks at me expectantly.
“I let him in,” the half-pint offers.
Instantly, her brother turns to her and lectures her claiming the role as man of the house.
“You can’t be letting strange men in the house, Lexi,” he reprimands, wringing out his t-shirt.
Half pint rolls her eyes to the heavens before looking back at me.
“What’s your name?” she questions innocently.
It’s a simple question yet I stare at her as if she asked me if I knew the cure for cancer. My first instinct is to tell her my name is Pipe but I’m not that man anymore. I’m not the man who got his road name because he made pipe bombs his club sold back in the day. I don’t ride with the Satan’s Knights anymore.
“Lee,” I mutter. “The name is Lee, kid.”
She steps forward and offers me her little hand.
“I’m Lexi,” she reveals as I awkwardly shake her hand with my massive paw. Then she drops my hand and turns to her brother. “Now, Lee isn’t a stranger anymore, Tommy.”
“Okay, parties over kids,” the mud wrestler declares. “Jenna, take your sister upstairs and help her get dressed.”
“Why do I have to help her? She’s five.”
“Because I said so,” she replies exasperatedly. Cringing as the words leave her mouth, she turns to her eldest child. “You too, Tommy.”
“I’m not dressing Lexi.”
“Go shower, now,” she orders. “We need to get a move on.”
The two girls prance out of the kitchen but Tommy remains still, sizing me up much like he did last night. It’s clear the kid is protective of his mother and since half pint squealed all her mama’s business, I can respect the kid for stepping up. I hold his gaze and jut my chin, giving him a silent vow that all is good here.
“Tommy,” my neighbor repeats and the boy finally tears his eyes away. A moment later he reluctantly leaves the kitchen. “Thank you for turning the water off,” she says once we’re alone and I turn my attention back to her
I nod, letting my eyes roam over her, wishing she’d uncross her arms now that her kids are out of sight.
“But you didn’t come here to fix my plumbing and I don’t see you as a member of the welcoming committee so I’m confused as to why you’re standing in my kitchen.”
“Your car is blocking my driveway.”
“You mean the car your friends smashed?”
“That’s the one,” I reply, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “If you’re planning on going into town you’re going to want to fix that bumper first. The fucking troopers up here won’t think twice about giving you a citation.” I pause, angling my head slightly as I continue to take her in. “I’m guessing that’s the last thing you need right now.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as her eyes narrow in anger. Grinding her teeth, she drops her arms and draws in a deep breath as she balls her hands into fists.
“And how would you know what I need?” she bites back.
Oh, I know what she needs. Any man with a pair of working eyes can tell this woman is wound tight. She needs to release some of that tension inside her. She needs to get fucked until she can’t remember her name let alone her troubles but I doubt she wants to hear that.
“Your daughter has loose lips,” I say instead. “Might want to tell her not to spill your business to strangers.”
“Thanks for your input but I think I’m going to pass on the parenting advice from a man who had two half naked girls on his lawn in the middle of the night—both who are probably young enough to be his daughters.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I remain impassive as she studies me with her those judgmental eyes of her.
I’m used to people’s remarks. Being a biker, I’ve had my share of assumptions made about me. Everyone thinks they know everyone. You take one look at a person and swear you’ve got them all figured out. At times, I myself have been guilty of the offense. It takes years of making the wrong convictions and learning from each mistake to realize you never truly know a person until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.
“I’ve got everything under control,” she adds and for a moment I wonder who she’s trying to convince.
“Suit yourself, killer,” I retort with a shrug and push off the counter.
“Layla,” she whispers before sighing. “My name is Layla not killer,” she adds, emphasizing the name by adding air quotes.
“Good to know,” I say as I start towards the door. “Get your car out of my driveway, killer.”
Then without another word, I step out of the kitchen. I’m halfway toward the front door when I hear her curse and my lips quirk slightly.
Half pint was right.
Her mother has a filthy mouth.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong-willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

CONNECT WITH JANINE!

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Blog Tour + Excerpt + Giveaway – ROAMER by Janine Infante Bosco

ROAMER

by Janine Infante Bosco
Nomad #3
Publication Date: June 13, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense, Can be read as a standalone

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SYNOPSIS:

Deuce:
The first moment I stared into Ally’s tortured blue eyes, my subconscious knew I’d never escape her. She called to the darkest part of my soul and made it impossible to ignore the strange pull I felt towards her.
Some things are just meant to be.
As long as we were both breathing, my heart would do time with hers. Like the famous outlaw lovers, Bonnie and Clyde, Ally and I committed the perfect crime. I claimed her heart, and she stole mine.
I only meant to save her.
To heal her.
Now, my past threatens to ruin her.
Wanted dead or alive, I’ve got her by my side and together we’ll ride.

Ally:
I thought the world forgot me.
That I had died at fourteen.
But, I never knew life until I knew him.
Rescued and healed, I found love in the face of an outlaw.
Whether he fails or flies, I’ll ride until I die.
I’m his Bonnie and he’s my Clyde.
A love as strong as ours will never die.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, offensive language, and mature topics. This book deals with sensitive subjects, such as kidnapping and human trafficking. Please be aware of these triggers and keep them in mind while reading. Through the sensitive subjects, the storm passes and the sky clears….there is a happily ever after waiting on the other side. ***

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EXCERPT

Admitting I haven’t tried Sushi makes me realize there are plenty of things I missed out on experiencing. That’s not saying I would have necessarily wanted to try different things or even liked them once I had, but I never got the chance to make those choices or decisions.

Aside from different foods, I missed out on a bunch of firsts too.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head to the side as he stares at me. “If you don’t want Sushi we get something else…”

I shake my head.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just realized I’m twenty-six years old and not only are there so many things I probably haven’t tried but there are things I never got the chance to experience. Things I pushed out of my head because I told myself there was no point in dwelling on it. Now that I’m free, it feels wrong, if that makes any sense. I mean I know I lost twelve years and everyone keeps saying I’ve got a second chance to make a life for myself, but all those things I missed…I can’t get that back. I can’t replace all the miserable moments with what should’ve been. I guess what I’m trying to say is…I can’t trade my painful firsts for the firsts I dreamed I’d have.”

“Says who?”

My brows knit in confusion and I blink as he turns fully, propping his leg on my bed.

“Name one first you wish you could change.”

“Why? You can’t change them.”

“Maybe not all of them,” he says with a shrug. “But if we can manage to change a few that should count for something.”

Biting down on my lip, I think about his suggestion.

“My first kiss is something I wish I could change,” I say honestly, lifting my head to meet his expressionless face. “Papa,” I mutter, cringing as I say the name. “That’s what he made me call him,” I explain, watching Deuce’s jaw go rigid.

“Rush?”

I shake my head.

“Yankovich,” he growls.

For as long as he kept me, I never knew his real name. Hearing it now sends chills down my spine as I recall the first time I was kissed and how Yankovich’s lips felt against mine.

“It was rough and not in a good way,” I confess. “It wasn’t done in a way to make me feel desired but in a way where I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t oblige. So, I kissed him back and hated myself afterward.”

Muttering a curse, Deuce runs his fingers roughly through his hair before turning back to me.

“Close your eyes,” he directs.

“What for?”

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, evading my question. A foreign feeling erupts inside of me, one I can’t quite place and I find myself closing my eyes, not because he ordered me to but because I trust he won’t hurt me.

Seconds tick by before I hear Deuce’s exasperated breath. Then I feel the mattress dip and as I continue to keep my eyes closed I subconsciously lean forward. His hands lift to my cheeks and the next breath he releases brushes gently over my lips.

Then it happens.

Deuce lays his mouth over mine.

For a moment neither of us move as our lips stay locked on one another. Slowly, he then moves his mouth, taking my lower lip between his and giving it a gentle tug. Sucking softly, he parts my lips and a small gasp spills from my mouth into his.

My heart pounds against my chest as he applies more pressure, making our kiss rougher in all the right ways. I’m not scared or trying to drift away. I’m right there with him, flying high on sensation and adrenaline. His tongue touches my lips, prying them open. Following his lead, I part my lips. He pushes his tongue into my waiting mouth and glides it over mine, tasting me—teaching me that some firsts can be rewritten.

Pulling back slightly he pecks my lips once more and I open my eyes. Keeping his eyes fixed to mine, he licks his lips and drops his hands from my face.

“There you go,” he rasps, as if what just happened didn’t shake the ground beneath us. Unsure what to say, I lift my fingers to my lips and watch as he leans his elbows on his knees. Silently, he stares into space before he slowly turns to me. His eyes immediately dart toward my mouth but quickly lift to my eyes and I wonder if he liked it as much as I did.

“You still got those matches I gave you?” he asks suddenly.

Biting my lip, I stare at him for a moment then lift my hips and reach into my pocket. Pulling out the book of matches my cheeks flush and I turn my palm over to display them. His lips quirk slightly as he slaps his hands against his thighs and rises to his feet.

“Let’s go,” he says, reaching for the hoodie I draped across the back of a chair. “Is this all you took from Reina?” he asks, tossing it onto the bed and crossing his arms as he leans against the wall.

I didn’t know I wasn’t going back there,” I reply, taking the hoodie from the bed. “Wait, where are we going?”

“To get food.”

“Raw food?” I question, slipping my arms through the hoodie before getting up from the bed. “No way.”

“Won’t know if you like it unless you try it,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow “Gotta strike the match, girl,” he adds, tipping his chin toward the book of matches I’m still holding.

“Are you daring me?”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “You accepting?”

Licking my lips, I shove the matches back into my pocket and take a deep breath. If trying Sushi is anything like my new first kiss, then joining the land of the living might not be so bad. It might be scary but it’s a leap I’ve got to take.

“Under one condition,” I say, stepping closer to him. Continuing to lean against the wall, he raises an eyebrow as amusement flickers in his eye.

“You have to get me ice cream too.”

“You like ice cream?”

“We’re going to find out,” I tell him as I brush past him and walk into his room.

Grabbing the keys off the table, he follows me toward the door and reaches around me to open it.

“With manners like that it’s a wonder your room is a mess,” I tease as I walk outside.

“My room isn’t a mess…it’s lived in,” he argues, slamming the door shut behind him.

“I don’t have to wonder if you wear boxers or briefs,” I call over my shoulder as we head toward Wolf’s truck. “However, I’m not going to lie, I’m a little disappointed.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

Pulling open the door, I climb inside and turn to him.

“I took you for a commando type of guy,” I tell him before shutting the door. Standing in front of the car, he braces one hand on the hood and peers at me through the windshield with a dumbfound expression on his face.

Something amazing happens then.

Something genuine and natural.

Something so unfamiliar to me but common to others.

I smile.

Then he smiles too and I decide Deuce has a great smile, one that if you stare at it long enough it can become an addiction. Isn’t that funny? I never knew a person could crave something so simple like someone else’s smile. I wonder if too much of someone’s smile can be bad for another person. I’d like to think not but what do I know—I’m the girl who never thought she’d smile again.

“Looks good on you,” he comments as he slides into the truck.

“What does?”

“A smile.”

“Yours isn’t so bad either,” I point out, realizing I’m still smiling. His lips quirk again as he pulls out of the lot and I find myself staring at him while he drives. The first time I saw Deuce, I didn’t think much about him. I don’t know if it was the drugs or something else, but at the time he was just another person. When you’ve spent most of your life surrounded by animals, you don’t take notice of people. They all look the same. They all act the same. You’ll expect them to hurt you and take from you. You give up hope that there are still people worth knowing. You give up on the good folks and lump everyone into one category.

In the days since I was rescued I’ve been noticing things. I’ve been noticing people, and right now I’m noticing Deuce. I’m noticing there is a twang hidden underneath that raspy voice and every now and then it becomes more prominent.

“Where are you from?”

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Caught that, huh?”

“Were you trying to hide it because you’re not very good at it,” I reply.

“Texas.”

Not expecting that response, my eyes widen at the admission but I quickly recover.

“Is it true everything is bigger in Texas?”

Another quirk of the lips.

Yeah, I was addicted.

“I’m not touching that one,” he quips.

Realizing the innuendo, I slap his arm and attempt to call him a jerk but I get distracted by the size of it.

Things are huge in Texas.

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ABOUT JANINE INFANTE BOSCO


Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

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Cover Reveal + Excerpt + Giveaway – ROAMER by Janine Infante Bosco

ROAMER by Janine Infante Bosco
Series: Nomad #3
Publication Date: June 13, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense

Are you ready to ride or die with Deuce & Ally?

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ROAMER

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EXCERPT

Excerpt Prologue Roamer © Copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco.

Prologue

Present Day

Deuce

Death.
Many want to believe they’ll go peacefully in their sleep. After they have lived a long life, conquered their dreams and left their mark on the world.
No one wants to be murdered.
They don’t want to suffer.
They don’t want to scream and beg for a pardon.
A woman doesn’t want to stare at the man who swore he’d love and protect her. She doesn’t want to wonder why he won’t save her when there are four guns aimed between her eyes and one of them is his.
I can still feel her blue eyes pinned to me, silently willing me to do something. To rescue her. To be the man I promised her I’d be. I remember watching the hope fade from those eyes as the seconds passed and the safety on the gun clicked out of place. I can still place the moment when the drugs wore off and clarity filled her blue irises as she realized the end of the line was approaching.
Death.
It has a sound.
Bullets flew through the air, traveling faster than the speed of sound, piercing the skin I used to kiss, the body I once worshiped.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
That’s the sound of death.
Death also has a scent.
The gunfire died as blood poured from her body and stained the sheets. Gunpowder lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of her blood creating the scent of death.
Death has a face too.
Worn features from a grueling life and lifeless blue eyes that a single tear falls from is the face of death.
Once a beauty, now a casualty.
The bible portrays death as a new beginning. If you’re a believer, once your blood dries and your body cools you think your soul will be lifted to Heaven. You wait for your Lord and Savior to welcome you into the afterlife where your every sin is repented and all the ugly shit that found its way into your life fades.
As a man who delivered death to those he called enemies, I never thought much about the scriptures in the bible. I didn’t believe the Lord suffered and died on the cross at Calvary. And I sure as fuck didn’t believe he rose on the Sunday that followed. But in that single moment, staring at the woman I loved, I wanted to be a believer.
I wanted to believe that wasn’t the end.
Somehow, someway there would be more.
More of her.
More of me.
More of us.
In life, we’re given responsibilities.
In death, we’re given regrets.
A man can only pray to whatever hell he believes in that the two don’t bleed into one another. For a man is a failure when his responsibilities become his regrets.
If he’s smart he doesn’t do responsibility.
He lives free.
He dies free.
The dictionary defines responsibility as having the duty to deal with something or being held accountable for someone. Merriam-Webster fails to mention responsibility comes with the act of commitment. A person can assume responsibility, but he doesn’t truly accept it until he commits his heart and soul to the duty or person.
A roamer cannot commit to anyone or anything, especially not a self-proclaimed cowboy who is destined to ride his chrome horse to his grave. No, a man like me, who is wanted dead or alive by his enemies, isn’t meant to have responsibilities.
He isn’t supposed to commit.
He’s meant to travel the road paved for him by those who stole his soul and forced him into a life of sin. All the while he keeps pissing on the law as he eludes the men gunning for him and dodges bullet after bullet. He earns his patch and wears the title of an outlaw proudly.
He doesn’t walk away from tragedy to find grace.
He never gets the fucking chance to find his ride or die girl, the one who stands by his side when his life is a mess.
And he sure as hell never gets to commit the perfect crime with her.
He doesn’t get to claim her heart or watch as she steals his.
Unless the outlaw roaming is me.
Then he gets the girl.
He finds the Bonnie to his Clyde and laughs in the face of the devil.
I ease my conscience by telling myself I tried to fight the inevitable, that I warned Jack Parrish I wasn’t the right man for the job. Still, he handed me all the broken parts of a tortured woman and made me the man responsible for piecing her together.
I could’ve walked away.
I could’ve handed him my patch and kissed Brooklyn goodbye.
Instead, I committed to the task with my heart and soul.
Because even after she ratted me out to Rush and got my ass abducted, I knew we were meant to be in one another’s life.
Like a lit match to gasoline, Ally and I were made to create fire.
Beautiful fucking fire.
The kind that lights up the whole world.
The kind of fire no one forgets.
The type you never escape.
She was an angel who lost her way to Heaven, dancing in chaos and pain. And me, I was the demon sent from Hell to make it all go away. In my quest to be what she needed, I broke rule after rule and watched a beautiful angel find her wings.
I forgot about the sound of death.
I forgot its scent.
And I allowed death’s face to be a memory.
I laid Chelsea to rest and carved out a piece of my soul for her to keep.
Legend says when two souls are meant to be together, the devil will find a way to keep them apart. Being a man who tasted Satan’s tears and drank from his soul, I thought I had outsmarted him and escaped the halls of hell, but no sinner is ever truly free from consequence.
We all pay one way or another.
Some pay with their own lives, others pay with the lives of those they love.
Being a man who already lost one love, a man who watched one woman suffer and die before his eyes, the choice became simple. I chose her life over mine.
She says I saved her.
Tells me I showed her how to live again.
Maybe.
But her life is just getting started. She won’t truly live until I’m gone.
Until I’m a memory.
A place in time.
Lifting the bottle of whiskey to my lips, I drain the little that’s left and glance around the motel room. I used to hate this fucking place, bitched to anyone of my brothers who would listen, but these four walls became mine and Ally’s home. It’s here, in this room where she laughed for the first time in twelve years. It’s at that broken-down table she sat and tasted sushi for the first time. It’s through that bathroom door, inside the shower stall where she decided she wanted to create a bucket list. It’s the fucking bed that is now full of weapons where she gave her body willingly. The bed where she learned sex could be something she enjoyed and not something she dreaded. The bed where she laid with me and watched the movie Bonnie and Clyde a hundred times until she knew every word by heart. It’s this fucking room that lives and breathes the memory of the girl I fell in love with.
It’s here.
In the depths of hell with no way out other than death.
Rearing my hand back, I throw the empty bottle and watch as it smashes against one of the walls.
“Fuck,” I shout in agony as I swipe a hand over my face and fight for clarity.
In between the flashes of her smile and those intoxicating blue eyes, I find it.
I find my truth.
This is the end of the line and death is the wage of sin.
I take a step toward the bed and lift the bulletproof vest from the mattress. Clutching it in my hand, I stare at the guns scattered before me when I hear a knock on the door. Quickly, I slip my arms through the vest, secure it around my chest and reach for the closest gun.
Death has arrived and this time I am the face of it.
Striding toward the door, I pull the safety back on my gun and wrap my finger around the trigger.
“Deuce, open the door,” Ally pleads, causing me to pause mid-stride. “Open the fucking door or I’ll shoot the lock off.”
Pulling it open, I glance over her shoulder at the empty parking lot. She pushes her way inside as I turn around and kick the door shut. Staring at her, I bite the inside of my cheek and lower my gun. She places her hands on her hips and her blue eyes are ablaze as they lock with mine.
Fire.
Beautiful fucking fire.
“Thought I told you we were done,” I grind out.
“Yeah, you said a lot of things, Deuce,” she hisses. “I thought I’d remind you of some of them,” she says as she takes a step closer to me and purses her red lips. “One of the first things you ever told me was that I should stop waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel. Remember that? You told me I should strike the fucking match myself.”
“Ally—”
“Shut up, it’s my turn to talk,” she orders, closing the distance between us, poking her finger into my chest. “You told me to live for me, taught me to find what I want in life and encouraged me to follow my heart. I listened and it led me straight here, back to you.”
“You need to leave.”
“I’m not.”
“Ally, any minute this place is going to become a war zone. They know where I am, they’re coming for me and they won’t leave without a body,” I shout, grabbing both of her wrists as I bend my knees and level her with a look. “That body ain’t going to be yours. Now, for fuck’s sake listen to me, you need to get the fuck out of here.”
“No,” she shrieks, pulling free from my grasp. “I am not going anywhere, Deuce. I won’t leave your side,” she cries, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “I won’t do it.”
Ride or die isn’t a phrase, it’s her.
It’s Ally.
“I had a dream,” she whispers, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I dreamt the whole world was burning in flames,” she continues as she turns toward the bed. Bending down, I watch her lift an 8 millimeter off the bed and turn back to me. “The flames died, the ash settled. All that was left was you and me standing side by side.”
Silently, I reach for the Velcro securing my vest and peel it back before I shrug it off and charge for her. Holding the gun with one hand, I thread my other one through her hair and cup the back of her head.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp. “So fucking sorry.”
“Don’t—” My lips fall over hers, cutting her off. I kiss her with everything I am and everything we could’ve been. I suck on her lip, slide my tongue inside heaven and take.
Take, take, take.
We make fire.
Beautiful fucking fire.
Then it happens.
The wind changes.
The storm rolls through.
The pipes sound.
The end of the line.
Pulling away from her, I hand her the vest and lean my forehead against hers.
“However this ends, whether I’m dead or alive, I love you, Ally. Put the vest on and take cover behind the bed and do as I taught you. Don’t think, just shoot. Fight to win. Fight to live,” I demand. “Fight for tomorrow.”
The engines grow louder.
I step back as she puts the vest on before I check to make sure it’s secure. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, I toss her another gun and tip my chin toward the other end of the bed. She does as she’s told, drops to her knees on the side of the bed before she cocks her gun toward the window.
“Let’s ride,” I mutter as I grab the AK-47.
Before I can take cover behind the dresser, the engines die and the ambush begins as the bullets fly.
Spinning around, I pull the trigger repeatedly. Ally and I fire away aimlessly, fighting to see past the thick fog the gunpowder creates.
“I can’t see,” she shrieks.
Stepping to the side, I keep my finger on the trigger and attempt to cross the room.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Fuck!” I scream as a bullet pierces through my shoulder. My vision fades to default as pain sears through me. I force myself to push through, cross my good arm over my bad one and steady myself as I continue to shoot.
Something flies through the window and I watch in horror as flames instantly crawl up the curtains, signaling the harsh reality that the war is over. If we escape the fire, they’ll kill us before we have the chance to draw a breath.
“The bed is on fire,” Ally cries. “Deuce, what do we do?”
Turning around, my eyes land on the center of the bed and the piece of leather burning. I don’t need a closer look to know it’s mine. The charred patch stares back at me, offensively reminding me of where I came from, who I am and why I’m about to die—why Ally’s about to die too.
Before I can offer myself to them and hope they spare her, the fire spreads above us and the ceiling begins to buckle.
“GET DOWN!”
But I’m too late.
The last thing I hear is Ally scream as the ceiling collapses over us and the amber flames burn bright.
Fire.
A fire that lit up the world.
A fire no one will forget.
A fire we couldn’t escape.


SYNOPSIS

Deuce:
The first moment I stared into Ally’s tortured blue eyes, my subconscious knew I’d never escape her. She called to the darkest part of my soul and made it impossible to ignore the strange pull I felt towards her.
Some things are just meant to be.
As long as we were both breathing, my heart would do time with hers. Like the famous outlaw lovers, Bonnie and Clyde, Ally and I committed the perfect crime. I claimed her heart, and she stole mine.
I only meant to save her.
To heal her.
Now, my past threatens to ruin her.
Wanted dead or alive, I’ve got her by my side and together we’ll ride.

Ally:
I thought the world forgot me.
That I had died at fourteen.
But, I never knew life until I knew him.
Rescued and healed, I found love in the face of an outlaw.
Whether he fails or flies, I’ll ride until I die.
I’m his Bonnie and he’s my Clyde.
A love as strong as ours will never die.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, offensive language, and mature topics. This book deals with highly sensitive subjects, such as kidnapping and human trafficking. Please be aware of these triggers and keep them in mind while reading. Through all the sensitive subjects, the storm passes and the sky clears….there is a happily ever after waiting on the other side.***

DON’T MISS THE REST OF THE NOMAD SERIES!


***NOTE: DRIFTER & WANDERER can be read as STANDALONE novels. Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***

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SYNOPSIS

“Stryker”
I’m a drifter.
A man born to ride through this world alone.
There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives.
I was going to be a true American hero.
But God had another plan.
Or maybe Satan did.
For everything I touch finds mortality.
I’m no hero.
I’m nothing.
I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell.
Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos.
The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes.
A girl who has the power to turn me inside out.
A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior.
Until she’s not.
But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.

“Gina Spinelli”
Strong. Independent. Fierce.
They are the three things I strived to be.
But sometimes being successful can be lonely.
Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her.
Maybe even love her.
Sometimes the strong become vulnerable.
Or worse, the victor becomes the victim.
Sometimes we lose control or in my case, it’s stripped from you.
Defeated. Broken. Haunted.
They are the three things I have become.
In my darkest hour, I admit defeat.
In my darkest hour, I need one person.
I need him.
Stryker.

WANDERER BOOK #2
US: http://amzn.to/2maumiv
UK: http://amzn.to/2nf83da
AU: http://amzn.to/2maovcX
CA: http://amzn.to/2masean

SYNOPSIS

“Cobra”
I’ve lived two lives.
One full of innocence and one full of sin.
I mourned the perfect life I was born into and made it my duty to chase the phantom who stole it.
from me.
Revenge, mayhem, and loss are all I know.
I am the lone man—I am the wanderer.
The former nomad—now, Satan’s deadliest soldier.
The two worlds were never supposed to collide. Innocence and sin aren’t made to coexist yet somehow my past bleeds into the present and I find myself facing my biggest regret…I find myself face to face with her—the girl who got away.
The girl I let go.
The woman I’ll ruin if I stay.

“Celeste”
Our young love was marred by violence.
Our guilt destroyed us, fate tempted us but, it was he who broke us.
They say time heals all, but all time did was dull the ache of his abandonment.
Now, dressed in leather, covered in ink the boy I mourned is now a man—a man tormented by his demons.
In another life, we were everything to one another.
In this life, we’re strangers.

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up.***

AVAILABLE FREE with KINDLE UNLIMITED!

 

ABOUT AUTHOR JANINE INFANTE BOSCO

Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong-willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

CONNECT WITH JANINE!

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Blog Tour – WANDERER by Janine Infante Bosco

WANDERER

by Janine Infante Bosco
Nomad #2
Publication Date: March 7, 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense

#FREE with #KindleUnlimited!

SYNOPSIS:

Cobra

I’ve lived two lives.

One full of innocence and one full of sin.

I mourned the perfect life I was born into and made it my duty to chase the phantom who stole it from me.

Revenge, mayhem and loss are all I know.

I am the lone man—I am the wanderer.

The former nomad—now, Satan’s deadliest soldier.

The two worlds were never supposed to collide. Innocence and sin aren’t made to coexist yet somehow my past bleeds into the present and I find myself facing my biggest regret…I find myself face to face with her—the girl who got away.

The girl I let go.

The woman I’ll ruin if I stay.

Celeste

Our young love was marred by violence.

Our guilt destroyed us, fate tempted us but, it was he who broke us.

They say time heals all, but all time did was dull the ache of his abandonment.

Now, dressed in leather, covered in ink the boy I mourned is now a man—a man tormented by his demons.

In another life we were everything to one another.

In this life we’re strangers.

*NOTE* Each book in the Nomad series can be read as a STANDALONE.

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#WANDERINTOCHAOS

#THENOMADSERIES

DON’T MISS THE BIKER FULL OF DIRTY PROMISES! GRAB YOUR COPY OF #DRIFTER, BOOK #1 IN THE NOMAD SERIES!

AVAILABLE #FREE with #KINDLEUNLIMITED!

SYNOPSIS:

“Stryker”
I’m a drifter.
A man born to ride through this world alone.
There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives.
I was going to be a true American hero.
But God had another plan.
Or maybe Satan did.
For everything I touch finds mortality.
I’m no hero.
I’m nothing.
I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell.
Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos.
The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes.
A girl who has the power to turn me inside out.
A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior.
Until she’s not.
But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.

Gina Spinelli

Strong. Independent. Fierce.
They are the three things I strived to be.
But sometimes being successful can be lonely.
Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her.
Maybe even love her.
Sometimes the strong become vulnerable.
Or worse, the victor becomes the victim.
Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you.
Defeated. Broken. Haunted.
They are the three things I have become.
In my darkest hour I admit defeat.
In my darkest hour I need one person.
I need him.
Stryker.

***NOTE: DRIFTER is a STANDALONE novel. Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***

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#DRIFTINGINTOCHAOS

ABOUT JANINE INFANTE BOSCO

Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild.

Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.

She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

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