Privacy Policy

Privacy Policy

We are very delighted that you have shown interest in our enterprise. Data protection is of a particularly high priority for the management of the Silverwood Press. The use of the Internet pages of the Silverwood Press is possible without any indication of personal data; however, if a data subject wants to use special enterprise services via our website, processing of personal data could become necessary. If the processing of personal data is necessary and there is no statutory basis for such processing, we generally obtain consent from the data subject.

The processing of personal data, such as the name, address, e-mail address, or telephone number of a data subject shall always be in line with the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), and in accordance with the country-specific data protection regulations applicable to the Silverwood Press. By means of this data protection declaration, our enterprise would like to inform the general public of the nature, scope, and purpose of the personal data we collect, use and process. Furthermore, data subjects are informed, by means of this data protection declaration, of the rights to which they are entitled.

As the controller, the Silverwood Press has implemented numerous technical and organizational measures to ensure the most complete protection of personal data processed through this website. However, Internet-based data transmissions may in principle have security gaps, so absolute protection may not be guaranteed. For this reason, every data subject is free to transfer personal data to us via alternative means, e.g. by telephone.

1. Definitions

The data protection declaration of the Silverwood Press is based on the terms used by the European legislator for the adoption of the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR). Our data protection declaration should be legible and understandable for the general public, as well as our customers and business partners. To ensure this, we would like to first explain the terminology used.

In this data protection declaration, we use, inter alia, the following terms:

  • a)    Personal data

    Personal data means any information relating to an identified or identifiable natural person (“data subject”). An identifiable natural person is one who can be identified, directly or indirectly, in particular by reference to an identifier such as a name, an identification number, location data, an online identifier or to one or more factors specific to the physical, physiological, genetic, mental, economic, cultural or social identity of that natural person.

  • b) Data subject

    Data subject is any identified or identifiable natural person, whose personal data is processed by the controller responsible for the processing.

  • c)    Processing

    Processing is any operation or set of operations which is performed on personal data or on sets of personal data, whether or not by automated means, such as collection, recording, organisation, structuring, storage, adaptation or alteration, retrieval, consultation, use, disclosure by transmission, dissemination or otherwise making available, alignment or combination, restriction, erasure or destruction.

  • d)    Restriction of processing

    Restriction of processing is the marking of stored personal data with the aim of limiting their processing in the future.

  • e)    Profiling

    Profiling means any form of automated processing of personal data consisting of the use of personal data to evaluate certain personal aspects relating to a natural person, in particular to analyse or predict aspects concerning that natural person’s performance at work, economic situation, health, personal preferences, interests, reliability, behaviour, location or movements.

  • f)     Pseudonymisation

    Pseudonymisation is the processing of personal data in such a manner that the personal data can no longer be attributed to a specific data subject without the use of additional information, provided that such additional information is kept separately and is subject to technical and organisational measures to ensure that the personal data are not attributed to an identified or identifiable natural person.

  • g)    Controller or controller responsible for the processing

    Controller or controller responsible for the processing is the natural or legal person, public authority, agency or other body which, alone or jointly with others, determines the purposes and means of the processing of personal data; where the purposes and means of such processing are determined by Union or Member State law, the controller or the specific criteria for its nomination may be provided for by Union or Member State law.

  • h)    Processor

    Processor is a natural or legal person, public authority, agency or other body which processes personal data on behalf of the controller.

  • i)      Recipient

    Recipient is a natural or legal person, public authority, agency or another body, to which the personal data are disclosed, whether a third party or not. However, public authorities which may receive personal data in the framework of a particular inquiry in accordance with Union or Member State law shall not be regarded as recipients; the processing of those data by those public authorities shall be in compliance with the applicable data protection rules according to the purposes of the processing.

  • j)      Third party

    Third party is a natural or legal person, public authority, agency or body other than the data subject, controller, processor and persons who, under the direct authority of the controller or processor, are authorised to process personal data.

  • k)    Consent

    Consent of the data subject is any freely given, specific, informed and unambiguous indication of the data subject’s wishes by which he or she, by a statement or by a clear affirmative action, signifies agreement to the processing of personal data relating to him or her.

2. Name and Address of the controller

Controller for the purposes of the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), other data protection laws applicable in Member states of the European Union and other provisions related to data protection is:

Silverwood Press

1620 Nottoway Ave

23227 Richmond

VA

Phone: 8048330595

Email: lee.savino@leesavino.com

Website: www.leesavino.com

3. Cookies

The Internet pages of the Silverwood Press use cookies. Cookies are text files that are stored in a computer system via an Internet browser.

Many Internet sites and servers use cookies. Many cookies contain a so-called cookie ID. A cookie ID is a unique identifier of the cookie. It consists of a character string through which Internet pages and servers can be assigned to the specific Internet browser in which the cookie was stored. This allows visited Internet sites and servers to differentiate the individual browser of the dats subject from other Internet browsers that contain other cookies. A specific Internet browser can be recognized and identified using the unique cookie ID.

Through the use of cookies, the Silverwood Press can provide the users of this website with more user-friendly services that would not be possible without the cookie setting.

By means of a cookie, the information and offers on our website can be optimized with the user in mind. Cookies allow us, as previously mentioned, to recognize our website users. The purpose of this recognition is to make it easier for users to utilize our website. The website user that uses cookies, e.g. does not have to enter access data each time the website is accessed, because this is taken over by the website, and the cookie is thus stored on the user’s computer system. Another example is the cookie of a shopping cart in an online shop. The online store remembers the articles that a customer has placed in the virtual shopping cart via a cookie.

The data subject may, at any time, prevent the setting of cookies through our website by means of a corresponding setting of the Internet browser used, and may thus permanently deny the setting of cookies. Furthermore, already set cookies may be deleted at any time via an Internet browser or other software programs. This is possible in all popular Internet browsers. If the data subject deactivates the setting of cookies in the Internet browser used, not all functions of our website may be entirely usable.

4. Collection of general data and information

The website of the Silverwood Press collects a series of general data and information when a data subject or automated system calls up the website. This general data and information are stored in the server log files. Collected may be (1) the browser types and versions used, (2) the operating system used by the accessing system, (3) the website from which an accessing system reaches our website (so-called referrers), (4) the sub-websites, (5) the date and time of access to the Internet site, (6) an Internet protocol address (IP address), (7) the Internet service provider of the accessing system, and (8) any other similar data and information that may be used in the event of attacks on our information technology systems.

When using these general data and information, the Silverwood Press does not draw any conclusions about the data subject. Rather, this information is needed to (1) deliver the content of our website correctly, (2) optimize the content of our website as well as its advertisement, (3) ensure the long-term viability of our information technology systems and website technology, and (4) provide law enforcement authorities with the information necessary for criminal prosecution in case of a cyber-attack. Therefore, the Silverwood Press analyzes anonymously collected data and information statistically, with the aim of increasing the data protection and data security of our enterprise, and to ensure an optimal level of protection for the personal data we process. The anonymous data of the server log files are stored separately from all personal data provided by a data subject.

5. Registration on our website

The data subject has the possibility to register on the website of the controller with the indication of personal data. Which personal data are transmitted to the controller is determined by the respective input mask used for the registration. The personal data entered by the data subject are collected and stored exclusively for internal use by the controller, and for his own purposes. The controller may request transfer to one or more processors (e.g. a parcel service) that also uses personal data for an internal purpose which is attributable to the controller.

By registering on the website of the controller, the IP address—assigned by the Internet service provider (ISP) and used by the data subject—date, and time of the registration are also stored. The storage of this data takes place against the background that this is the only way to prevent the misuse of our services, and, if necessary, to make it possible to investigate committed offenses. Insofar, the storage of this data is necessary to secure the controller. This data is not passed on to third parties unless there is a statutory obligation to pass on the data, or if the transfer serves the aim of criminal prosecution.

The registration of the data subject, with the voluntary indication of personal data, is intended to enable the controller to offer the data subject contents or services that may only be offered to registered users due to the nature of the matter in question. Registered persons are free to change the personal data specified during the registration at any time, or to have them completely deleted from the data stock of the controller.

The data controller shall, at any time, provide information upon request to each data subject as to what personal data are stored about the data subject. In addition, the data controller shall correct or erase personal data at the request or indication of the data subject, insofar as there are no statutory storage obligations. The entirety of the controller’s employees are available to the data subject in this respect as contact persons.

6. Subscription to our newsletters

On the website of the Silverwood Press, users are given the opportunity to subscribe to our enterprise’s newsletter. The input mask used for this purpose determines what personal data are transmitted, as well as when the newsletter is ordered from the controller.

The Silverwood Press informs its customers and business partners regularly by means of a newsletter about enterprise offers. The enterprise’s newsletter may only be received by the data subject if (1) the data subject has a valid e-mail address and (2) the data subject registers for the newsletter shipping. A confirmation e-mail will be sent to the e-mail address registered by a data subject for the first time for newsletter shipping, for legal reasons, in the double opt-in procedure. This confirmation e-mail is used to prove whether the owner of the e-mail address as the data subject is authorized to receive the newsletter.

During the registration for the newsletter, we also store the IP address of the computer system assigned by the Internet service provider (ISP) and used by the data subject at the time of the registration, as well as the date and time of the registration. The collection of this data is necessary in order to understand the (possible) misuse of the e-mail address of a data subject at a later date, and it therefore serves the aim of the legal protection of the controller.

The personal data collected as part of a registration for the newsletter will only be used to send our newsletter. In addition, subscribers to the newsletter may be informed by e-mail, as long as this is necessary for the operation of the newsletter service or a registration in question, as this could be the case in the event of modifications to the newsletter offer, or in the event of a change in technical circumstances. There will be no transfer of personal data collected by the newsletter service to third parties. The subscription to our newsletter may be terminated by the data subject at any time. The consent to the storage of personal data, which the data subject has given for shipping the newsletter, may be revoked at any time. For the purpose of revocation of consent, a corresponding link is found in each newsletter. It is also possible to unsubscribe from the newsletter at any time directly on the website of the controller, or to communicate this to the controller in a different way.

7. Newsletter-Tracking

The newsletter of the Silverwood Press contains so-called tracking pixels. A tracking pixel is a miniature graphic embedded in such e-mails, which are sent in HTML format to enable log file recording and analysis. This allows a statistical analysis of the success or failure of online marketing campaigns. Based on the embedded tracking pixel, the Silverwood Press may see if and when an e-mail was opened by a data subject, and which links in the e-mail were called up by data subjects.

Such personal data collected in the tracking pixels contained in the newsletters are stored and analyzed by the controller in order to optimize the shipping of the newsletter, as well as to adapt the content of future newsletters even better to the interests of the data subject. These personal data will not be passed on to third parties. Data subjects are at any time entitled to revoke the respective separate declaration of consent issued by means of the double-opt-in procedure. After a revocation, these personal data will be deleted by the controller. The Silverwood Press automatically regards a withdrawal from the receipt of the newsletter as a revocation.

8. Contact possibility via the website

The website of the Silverwood Press contains information that enables a quick electronic contact to our enterprise, as well as direct communication with us, which also includes a general address of the so-called electronic mail (e-mail address). If a data subject contacts the controller by e-mail or via a contact form, the personal data transmitted by the data subject are automatically stored. Such personal data transmitted on a voluntary basis by a data subject to the data controller are stored for the purpose of processing or contacting the data subject. There is no transfer of this personal data to third parties.

9. Comments function in the blog on the website

The Silverwood Press offers users the possibility to leave individual comments on individual blog contributions on a blog, which is on the website of the controller. A blog is a web-based, publicly-accessible portal, through which one or more people called bloggers or web-bloggers may post articles or write down thoughts in so-called blogposts. Blogposts may usually be commented by third parties.

If a data subject leaves a comment on the blog published on this website, the comments made by the data subject are also stored and published, as well as information on the date of the commentary and on the user’s (pseudonym) chosen by the data subject. In addition, the IP address assigned by the Internet service provider (ISP) to the data subject is also logged. This storage of the IP address takes place for security reasons, and in case the data subject violates the rights of third parties, or posts illegal content through a given comment. The storage of these personal data is, therefore, in the own interest of the data controller, so that he can exculpate in the event of an infringement. This collected personal data will not be passed to third parties, unless such a transfer is required by law or serves the aim of the defense of the data controller.

10. Routine erasure and blocking of personal data

The data controller shall process and store the personal data of the data subject only for the period necessary to achieve the purpose of storage, or as far as this is granted by the European legislator or other legislators in laws or regulations to which the controller is subject to.

If the storage purpose is not applicable, or if a storage period prescribed by the European legislator or another competent legislator expires, the personal data are routinely blocked or erased in accordance with legal requirements.

11. Rights of the data subject

  • a) Right of confirmation

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator to obtain from the controller the confirmation as to whether or not personal data concerning him or her are being processed. If a data subject wishes to avail himself of this right of confirmation, he or she may, at any time, contact any employee of the controller.

  • b) Right of access

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator to obtain from the controller free information about his or her personal data stored at any time and a copy of this information. Furthermore, the European directives and regulations grant the data subject access to the following information:

    • the purposes of the processing;
    • the categories of personal data concerned;
    • the recipients or categories of recipients to whom the personal data have been or will be disclosed, in particular recipients in third countries or international organisations;
    • where possible, the envisaged period for which the personal data will be stored, or, if not possible, the criteria used to determine that period;
    • the existence of the right to request from the controller rectification or erasure of personal data, or restriction of processing of personal data concerning the data subject, or to object to such processing;
    • the existence of the right to lodge a complaint with a supervisory authority;
    • where the personal data are not collected from the data subject, any available information as to their source;
    • the existence of automated decision-making, including profiling, referred to in Article 22(1) and (4) of the GDPR and, at least in those cases, meaningful information about the logic involved, as well as the significance and envisaged consequences of such processing for the data subject.

    Furthermore, the data subject shall have a right to obtain information as to whether personal data are transferred to a third country or to an international organisation. Where this is the case, the data subject shall have the right to be informed of the appropriate safeguards relating to the transfer.

    If a data subject wishes to avail himself of this right of access, he or she may, at any time, contact any employee of the controller.

  • c) Right to rectification

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator to obtain from the controller without undue delay the rectification of inaccurate personal data concerning him or her. Taking into account the purposes of the processing, the data subject shall have the right to have incomplete personal data completed, including by means of providing a supplementary statement.

    If a data subject wishes to exercise this right to rectification, he or she may, at any time, contact any employee of the controller.

  • d) Right to erasure (Right to be forgotten)

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator to obtain from the controller the erasure of personal data concerning him or her without undue delay, and the controller shall have the obligation to erase personal data without undue delay where one of the following grounds applies, as long as the processing is not necessary:

    • The personal data are no longer necessary in relation to the purposes for which they were collected or otherwise processed.
    • The data subject withdraws consent to which the processing is based according to point (a) of Article 6(1) of the GDPR, or point (a) of Article 9(2) of the GDPR, and where there is no other legal ground for the processing.
    • The data subject objects to the processing pursuant to Article 21(1) of the GDPR and there are no overriding legitimate grounds for the processing, or the data subject objects to the processing pursuant to Article 21(2) of the GDPR.
    • The personal data have been unlawfully processed.
    • The personal data must be erased for compliance with a legal obligation in Union or Member State law to which the controller is subject.
    • The personal data have been collected in relation to the offer of information society services referred to in Article 8(1) of the GDPR.

    If one of the aforementioned reasons applies, and a data subject wishes to request the erasure of personal data stored by the Silverwood Press, he or she may, at any time, contact any employee of the controller. An employee of Silverwood Press shall promptly ensure that the erasure request is complied with immediately.

    Where the controller has made personal data public and is obliged pursuant to Article 17(1) to erase the personal data, the controller, taking account of available technology and the cost of implementation, shall take reasonable steps, including technical measures, to inform other controllers processing the personal data that the data subject has requested erasure by such controllers of any links to, or copy or replication of, those personal data, as far as processing is not required. An employees of the Silverwood Press will arrange the necessary measures in individual cases.

  • e) Right of restriction of processing

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator to obtain from the controller restriction of processing where one of the following applies:

    • The accuracy of the personal data is contested by the data subject, for a period enabling the controller to verify the accuracy of the personal data.
    • The processing is unlawful and the data subject opposes the erasure of the personal data and requests instead the restriction of their use instead.
    • The controller no longer needs the personal data for the purposes of the processing, but they are required by the data subject for the establishment, exercise or defence of legal claims.
    • The data subject has objected to processing pursuant to Article 21(1) of the GDPR pending the verification whether the legitimate grounds of the controller override those of the data subject.

    If one of the aforementioned conditions is met, and a data subject wishes to request the restriction of the processing of personal data stored by the Silverwood Press, he or she may at any time contact any employee of the controller. The employee of the Silverwood Press will arrange the restriction of the processing.

  • f) Right to data portability

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator, to receive the personal data concerning him or her, which was provided to a controller, in a structured, commonly used and machine-readable format. He or she shall have the right to transmit those data to another controller without hindrance from the controller to which the personal data have been provided, as long as the processing is based on consent pursuant to point (a) of Article 6(1) of the GDPR or point (a) of Article 9(2) of the GDPR, or on a contract pursuant to point (b) of Article 6(1) of the GDPR, and the processing is carried out by automated means, as long as the processing is not necessary for the performance of a task carried out in the public interest or in the exercise of official authority vested in the controller.

    Furthermore, in exercising his or her right to data portability pursuant to Article 20(1) of the GDPR, the data subject shall have the right to have personal data transmitted directly from one controller to another, where technically feasible and when doing so does not adversely affect the rights and freedoms of others.

    In order to assert the right to data portability, the data subject may at any time contact any employee of the Silverwood Press.

  • g) Right to object

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator to object, on grounds relating to his or her particular situation, at any time, to processing of personal data concerning him or her, which is based on point (e) or (f) of Article 6(1) of the GDPR. This also applies to profiling based on these provisions.

    The Silverwood Press shall no longer process the personal data in the event of the objection, unless we can demonstrate compelling legitimate grounds for the processing which override the interests, rights and freedoms of the data subject, or for the establishment, exercise or defence of legal claims.

    If the Silverwood Press processes personal data for direct marketing purposes, the data subject shall have the right to object at any time to processing of personal data concerning him or her for such marketing. This applies to profiling to the extent that it is related to such direct marketing. If the data subject objects to the Silverwood Press to the processing for direct marketing purposes, the Silverwood Press will no longer process the personal data for these purposes.

    In addition, the data subject has the right, on grounds relating to his or her particular situation, to object to processing of personal data concerning him or her by the Silverwood Press for scientific or historical research purposes, or for statistical purposes pursuant to Article 89(1) of the GDPR, unless the processing is necessary for the performance of a task carried out for reasons of public interest.

    In order to exercise the right to object, the data subject may contact any employee of the Silverwood Press. In addition, the data subject is free in the context of the use of information society services, and notwithstanding Directive 2002/58/EC, to use his or her right to object by automated means using technical specifications.

  • h) Automated individual decision-making, including profiling

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator not to be subject to a decision based solely on automated processing, including profiling, which produces legal effects concerning him or her, or similarly significantly affects him or her, as long as the decision (1) is not is necessary for entering into, or the performance of, a contract between the data subject and a data controller, or (2) is not authorised by Union or Member State law to which the controller is subject and which also lays down suitable measures to safeguard the data subject’s rights and freedoms and legitimate interests, or (3) is not based on the data subject’s explicit consent.

    If the decision (1) is necessary for entering into, or the performance of, a contract between the data subject and a data controller, or (2) it is based on the data subject’s explicit consent, the Silverwood Press shall implement suitable measures to safeguard the data subject’s rights and freedoms and legitimate interests, at least the right to obtain human intervention on the part of the controller, to express his or her point of view and contest the decision.

    If the data subject wishes to exercise the rights concerning automated individual decision-making, he or she may, at any time, contact any employee of the Silverwood Press.

  • i) Right to withdraw data protection consent

    Each data subject shall have the right granted by the European legislator to withdraw his or her consent to processing of his or her personal data at any time.

    If the data subject wishes to exercise the right to withdraw the consent, he or she may, at any time, contact any employee of the Silverwood Press.

12. Legal basis for the processing

Art. 6(1) lit. a GDPR serves as the legal basis for processing operations for which we obtain consent for a specific processing purpose. If the processing of personal data is necessary for the performance of a contract to which the data subject is party, as is the case, for example, when processing operations are necessary for the supply of goods or to provide any other service, the processing is based on Article 6(1) lit. b GDPR. The same applies to such processing operations which are necessary for carrying out pre-contractual measures, for example in the case of inquiries concerning our products or services. Is our company subject to a legal obligation by which processing of personal data is required, such as for the fulfillment of tax obligations, the processing is based on Art. 6(1) lit. c GDPR. In rare cases, the processing of personal data may be necessary to protect the vital interests of the data subject or of another natural person. This would be the case, for example, if a visitor were injured in our company and his name, age, health insurance data or other vital information would have to be passed on to a doctor, hospital or other third party. Then the processing would be based on Art. 6(1) lit. d GDPR. Finally, processing operations could be based on Article 6(1) lit. f GDPR. This legal basis is used for processing operations which are not covered by any of the abovementioned legal grounds, if processing is necessary for the purposes of the legitimate interests pursued by our company or by a third party, except where such interests are overridden by the interests or fundamental rights and freedoms of the data subject which require protection of personal data. Such processing operations are particularly permissible because they have been specifically mentioned by the European legislator. He considered that a legitimate interest could be assumed if the data subject is a client of the controller (Recital 47 Sentence 2 GDPR).

13. The legitimate interests pursued by the controller or by a third party

Where the processing of personal data is based on Article 6(1) lit. f GDPR our legitimate interest is to carry out our business in favor of the well-being of all our employees and the shareholders.

14. Period for which the personal data will be stored

The criteria used to determine the period of storage of personal data is the respective statutory retention period. After expiration of that period, the corresponding data is routinely deleted, as long as it is no longer necessary for the fulfillment of the contract or the initiation of a contract.

15. Provision of personal data as statutory or contractual requirement; Requirement necessary to enter into a contract; Obligation of the data subject to provide the personal data; possible consequences of failure to provide such data

We clarify that the provision of personal data is partly required by law (e.g. tax regulations) or can also result from contractual provisions (e.g. information on the contractual partner). Sometimes it may be necessary to conclude a contract that the data subject provides us with personal data, which must subsequently be processed by us. The data subject is, for example, obliged to provide us with personal data when our company signs a contract with him or her. The non-provision of the personal data would have the consequence that the contract with the data subject could not be concluded. Before personal data is provided by the data subject, the data subject must contact any employee. The employee clarifies to the data subject whether the provision of the personal data is required by law or contract or is necessary for the conclusion of the contract, whether there is an obligation to provide the personal data and the consequences of non-provision of the personal data.

16. Existence of automated decision-making

As a responsible company, we do not use automatic decision-making or profiling.

This Privacy Policy has been generated by the Privacy Policy Generator of the German Association for Data Protection that was developed in cooperation with Privacy Lawyers from WILDE BEUGER SOLMECKE, Cologne.

Draekon Heart – excerpt

“Ryanna, wait up,” Harper says, bounding to my side. “So this should be interesting,” she says. “You, me, the guys, and Raiht’vi on a mission to find a way off this planet.” She raises her eyebrows as she mentions the scientist. “Is it just me, or does the way Raiht’vi says the word ‘human’ sound like an insult?”

I giggle, picturing the arrogant Zorahn. “Definitely not just you. I’m pretty sure she thinks we’re one evolutionary step above pond scum, bless her heart.”

Harper cackles. “This is why I love you, Ryanna. You’re so nice, and everything you say sounds so sweet in that Georgian accent of yours. But whenever you say ‘bless your heart’ I hear something else.” She winks at me.

“Don’t tell anyone.” I grin back at her. “My grandma used to say ‘bless your heart’ is Southern for ‘fuck you.’”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. All these Draekons think you’re a peach.”

“If they knew what a peach was.” I swallow as homesickness hits me hard.

“Yeah.” Harper sobers up. “You think this mission will work?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, at least you’ll get to hang with Thrax. What?” She shrugs when I stare at her. “I see the way you look at him. He’s cute. You should go for it.”

I stiffen. “No,” I say a little too sharply. “I mean… before I left, I had a bad breakup.”

More like a bad break. My arm, in three places, not to mention the bruises and a black eye.

“I’m sorry.” She pats my arm, an understanding expression on her face.

“It’s fine,” I shrug, wanting to change the topic. I don’t like talking about what happened back home.

Harper heads off to the house she shares with her mates. I’m not jealous, not exactly. Sure, I notice the way Vulrux and Dennox look at her, but when I imagine a man looking at me the same way… my stomach tightens. A loving look, a gentle touch—they all lead to darker memories. I’m never going down that road again. No matter how cute I think Thrax is.

Footsteps behind me make me whirl. I sigh in relief as Thrax falls into place at my side. The Draekon is almost two feet taller than me and ripped like a prize fighter, but I’ve never felt threatened by him. “You’re determined to come with us, aren’t you?” he asks me unhappily.

I will not live my life in fear.

“Are you going to try and talk me out of it?” In the time I’ve known him, Thrax has always treated me as if I were strong and capable. He’s never acted as if I was a liability. For him to try to dissuade me from this mission…

“Zorux is right. The Lowlands are dangerous.”

I’m used to living in a state of constant terror. No matter how dangerous the Lowlands are, I feel safer on the prison planet, scary predators and all, than I did back home in Georgia. “I’m not helpless,” I say quietly, trying to convince myself as much as him.

Without meaning to, I’ve scooted closer to him as we walk. The Draekon even smells good. A little smoky, like bourbon or tobacco. The scent reminds me the evenings my grandpa sat on the porch smoking his pipe. One of my better memories of Earth, of a time I was loved and safe.

He gives me a warm smile. “Not at all,” he agrees. “Your first day here, you faced down a trio of Dwals and shot two of them. You saved Sofia and Harper’s lives. How can anyone think of you as helpless?”

He’s right. I did do that. I smile at him, grateful for the words of support. “Thank you, Thrax.”

Goodbye, nice and safe Draekon camp.

Hello, crazy jungle world.

I’m ready for you.

 

There might be a way out of the prison planet. The only problem? I don’t want to go.

Back on Earth is a man who wants to kill me.

Back on Earth, I slept with a knife under my pillow to be safe.

There’s no coffee on the prison planet. No pizza. No chocolate.

I should be thrilled that there might be a way back home.

Except I don’t want to return.

Here, I feel safe.

Because Mike isn’t here.

And because Thrax and Zorux are. 

But I’ve sworn off guys. 

No matter how hot they are. 

No matter how much I want to kiss them. 

No matter how much I want to run my hands all over their hard bodies… 

Because there are a hundred reasons why the three of us shouldn’t be together. 

There’s still no sign of my friends. 

The rescue attempt is spiralling into disaster.

And most importantly, I’m fairly sure that the Draekons I’m falling in love with aren’t my mates. 

Draekon Heart is the third book in the Dragons in Exile series. It’s a full-length, standalone science fiction dragon-shifter MFM menage romance story featuring a wary human female, and two sexy aliens that win her trust and her heart. (No M/M) Happily-ever-after guaranteed!

Coming soon!

Bonded to the Berserkers (sneak peek)

 

*

Laurel

 

The first scream came from the dormitory. It was loud and clear, ringing through the kitchen where I stood with my arms elbow-deep in soapy water.

“Curses,” I muttered, grabbing a cloth to dry my hands. Who was awake and shouting at this late hour? Which one of the orphans had cried out? We all knew to stay quiet, even when being punished.

Sage rushed in from the back hall. She was my age, but small and frail, and much too thin.

“What is it? What is happening?” I asked.

“Somebody cried out,” she said. “One of the girls must be having a nightmare.”

That couldn’t be it. No orphan would dare. Sage’s creased forehead told me she shared my thoughts.

Footsteps stomped up the hall—the friar coming to investigate. He would be angry at being disturbed. I’d drugged his draught that night, but obviously not enough.

Out of habit, I grabbed the mead jug, ready to refill his cup and placate him.

Another shriek rang out.

“What’s going on?” the friar roared from beyond the inner door. Sage shot forward, passing through the kitchen to hasten outside. I didn’t blame her. The friar would want answers, and while he treated me well enough—I was the only one who could make his favorite meals—Sage often bore the brunt of his rage.

Still, I backed into the corner. Maybe, in his haste, the friar wouldn’t see me, and Sage would also get away.

“Sage!” the friar entered the kitchen, to be greeted with another chorus of cries from the outside. Something was happening. Something was wrong.

Another scream from just beyond the door. This time, it sounded like Sage. The friar turned white.

“It’s happening,” he muttered.

“What?” I pushed away from the corner, grabbing the closest thing I could to use to defend myself—a pot. “What’s happening?”

But the friar turned and ran back the way he came, robes flying and sandals flapping.

The door to the outside banged open. But it was only Sage, backing away from the door, her face pale as the moon.

I gulped in a breath as a bearded giant entered the kitchen. He ducked through the doorway and rose up, taller than the tallest man I’d ever seen. Almost twice as tall as any orphan. He loomed over Sage, and then stepped aside, making room for his companion to slip inside. A massive grey wolf.

If this was a nightmare, we were all having it, all at once. My grip tightened on the pot.

“Please,” Sage said. “Do not hurt us.” She shook but stood her ground.

“No one will hurt them,” the warrior said, his voice a gravelly rumble.

“Leave them be,” Sage croaked.

The warrior advanced, the wolf stalking forward with him.

Sage glanced at me, and then away. She was so brave, and unwilling to give me up. The warrior had eyes for only her.

I had to help.

I inched from the corner, trying to get closer without attracting attention. More pots sat stacked on a shelf. If I threw the one I held, I could quickly grab another.

The warrior was talking to Sage, who looked as if she might faint. I didn’t catch what he said in his deep, growling voice.

“If you leave the others alone, I’ll come with you,” she answered. Brave, sweet Sage, always trying to save others, at the risk of herself. I wouldn’t let her be taken, not without giving her a chance of escape.

I took a deep breath.

The warrior gave up talking and reached for my friend.

I flung the pot as hard as I could.

*

Ulf

 

Do you smell that? My warrior brother, Haakon, nudged me. We stood outside the abbey, waiting amid the ranks of the Berserkers to claim our prize. The woman we’d waited over a hundred years to find.

Our mate.

What do you smell? I asked, using the private link that connected his mind to mine.

A scent like… flowers. Blossoms.

I sniffed the air. The scent was spicy and pungent. But there was a hint of floral sweetness.

There, I pointed to a wing of the great stone building, at the foot of a tall tower. The scent comes from there.

But, Haakon nodded to the second half of the building, long and low with a few windows. The main sleeping area is there. That’s where most of the women are.

I grunted. As we watched, our Berserker brethren broke down the door of the building Haakon pointed at. The warriors rushed in to claim the precious treasure hidden inside.

“We must wait,” I told Haakon. “Thorbjorn ordered us to keep watch for any guards.”

“There are no guards. These fools don’t know what treasure they possess,” Haakon snorted. “They do not protect these women. We will take them, and keep them safe.”

Glass shattered outward, showering the dark lawn. Warriors leapt out of the dormitory through the windows, now carrying small white bundles in their arms. Spaewives. Women with a magic deep inside, magic that would break the Berserker curse. Some of them screamed, some cried, some cursed and fought. By the end of the night they’d all be claimed as Berserker brides.

“Enough waiting,” Haakon hooked his axe into his belt. “Let’s go.”

Following the floral scent, we ran forward to claim our mate.

 

*

Laurel

 

The warrior struck down the pot, swatting it as easily as a gnat. I shrank back but he gave me barely a glance before returning his attention to Sage. The wolf barked.

I reached for another pot.

“Leave her alone,” I screamed, banging on the pot before I threw it. I grabbed up two more. I was fast running out of things to throw. Not that they did any good.

Sage shook awake and ran back down the hall. Frowning, the bearded warrior stalked after her. I swung a heavy cauldron and let it fly, hoping it’d hit his head.

Instead, it glanced off an axe, clanging to the ground and rolling harmlessly away. Two more warriors entered, crowding the small space.

“Go. I’ve got this one,” the new warrior who’d deflected my missile told the bearded one.

Run, Sage, I thought as the bearded warrior and wolf went after my friend. But then I turned my attention to the two warriors closing in on me.

 

*

 Haakon

 

This is the one. I told Ulf, using the private link between our minds. In the century we’d shared the bond, I’d never felt such a rush of triumph. The beast in my breast howled at the sight of the woman backed into the corner.

“Stay away,” the woman growled, as brave as any wolf. She caught up a pan and threw it. I jumped out of the way, and it hit Ulf, who cursed.

“Watch her, Ulf,” I laughed. “She’s a fighter.”

“I mean it,” she looked around in desperation, perhaps looking for another thing to throw.

She is our mate, I said silently to Ulf, who confirmed it with a nod. He kept his head turned, hiding his burn scars. Perhaps he didn’t want to scare her any more than she was.

Not that she seemed frightened. 

She was lovely, with dark hair, flushed cheeks, a bosom that jiggled enticingly. I had to pause and breath in her scent. Sweet as a mountain blossom, with a touch of spice and smoke. I took a deep breath and caught another, disgusting smell. Cabbage?

“Calm yourself, beautiful. You’re coming with us,” I told her. “But you have nothing to fear.”

Her chest heaved up and down. She wore a little dress, not much, just a thin. Did the holy man make her stand there in nothing but her night clothes? Did he like to look at her?

Jealousy gripped me. Ulf felt it, too. No one should look at our mate but us.

I took a step forward.

eyes darted around the room, looking for escape. She inched away from me, her bosom straining under the fabric of her shift. Such a nice bosom, two bountiful globes with dusky nipples pressing on the thin cloth. I could easily hold each breast in my hand, cupping their warm weight, soothing and teasing the nipples with my thumbs right before bending down and sucking the peaks into my mouth. Our beautiful mate would writhe and cry in pleasure. She’d try to stop me and I’d pin her arms—

Haakon, Ulf said. You’re distracted.

“Your home is under attack,” I told her bosom. “You cannot stay here. You will come with us and be safe.”

“Never,” she growled, fierce as a she wolf. She was lovely, our mate. Green eyes, black hair, and a bosom to make angels weep. To make holy men break their vows.

The beast within roared to life. It would not rest until she was marked as mine.

Haakon, you must not lose control.

“Come here,” I ordered her.

Instead, she looked to the left, to the giant cauldron sitting on the fire.

“Do not—” I began, but too late. She leapt onto the great hearth and kicked away the logs supporting the giant pot, yelping as sparks singed her bare feet.

“No,” Ulf thundered, as the cauldron tipped and gallons of stinking, steaming liquid gushed over the edge, splashing onto the floor.

 

*

Laurel

 

I rushed from the hearth, sloshing through cabbage soup.  The warriors bellowed in my wake. If I got to the pantry, I could barricade myself in. There was food there, I could eat for days. I could hide.

Strong arms closed around my waist and swung me back.

“Got you,” a warrior said. I howled and kicked. Somehow my foot connected with the right place, and the warrior dropped me. I trembled as I backed away. He was fine-looking, with brown hair streaked with gold and tanned skin. Fierce, golden eyes. Strange eyes—like a wolf.

His gaze fell on my breasts, and I cursed the fact that I’d stripped off my dress. It was so hot in the kitchens, I liked to wear my shift when I knew I’d be alone.

“Come on, little fighter,” the handsome warrior coaxed. “It is not safe for you here. We came to rescue you.”

“What?” I half-sobbed. My feet throbbed from the hot broth. I slipped on the soup- covered flagstones and landed half on the hearth. Reaching towards the fire, I thought that if I got close enough, I could grab up a burning stick and rush them—

“Enough,” growled a second warrior, pulling me toward him. I froze. He was ugly, a harsh scar marring half his face. I recoiled and he growled again, and caught me in his arms.

“Stop, Ulf, you’re scaring her.” That came from the handsome one.

Ulf grunted and pushed me forward. “Take her, then, Haakon.”

Grinning like he’d won a prize, the handsome warrior Haakon bent so his shoulder hit my middle, and then I was up over his shoulder hanging down his back, squawking like a goose about to be cooked.

“Stop! What are you—”

“Quiet,” a hand clapped on my bottom. I hissed at this outrage, and the hand caressed my right buttock. I almost started shrieking, but a draft hit my face. We were outside.

Muffled sobs and cries came from all around. The moonlight illuminated quite a scene. Large warriors milled about the abbey grounds, some held my friends—the orphans. One giant went by, dragging one of the nuns, who railed and fought him. Sister Juliet—a kind young woman who’d grown up in the orphanage until she took vows. She screamed as he tossed her up over his shoulder and strode into the forest.

“Let me go,” I struggled, beating my fists against the warrior’s back. My hands might as well have been flowers for all the damage they did to the leather jerkin he wore or the powerful muscles of his back.

He gave a great leap, and landed atop the abbey wall. My stomach flipped and I screamed, but he only crouched and leapt from the wall. Cradling me in his arms, the one named Haakon jogged across the road and plunged into the forest. Trees blocked my view of the abbey, and just like that, the home I’d known all my life was gone.

 

***

Read now!

 I am an orphan, locked away in the abbey. Men call me beautiful, but I am destined for a life working in the kitchens –until the Berserkers capture me.

 

These Viking warriors are cursed, but my heart beats faster in their presence. My insides grow weak, desire filling me like fine wine. They draw wicked feelings from me and make me yearn for more.

I long to escape, but deep down, I know I’ll never be free.

 

I belong to the Berserkers, and they to me.

  

***Author’s Note: Kidnapped by the Berserkers is a standalone, full-length MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman. Read the whole best-selling Berserker saga to see what readers are raving about…

Hey!!! What an awesome idea…. Here’s the list with their names, except the books where the men who ended up as mates were meant to be more of a surprise.

Books listed with the characters (except where it’s supposed to be a surprise)

Sold to the Berserkers – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan

Mated to the Berserkers – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan

Bred by the Berserkers (FREE novella) – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan

Taken by the Berserkers – Sabine, Ragnvald & Maddox

Given to the Berserkers – Muriel and her mates

Claimed by the Berserkers – Fleur and her mates

Rescued by the Berserker – FREE – Hazel & Knut

Captured by the Berserkers –  Willow, Leif & Brokk

Kidnapped by the Berserkers – Sage, Thorbjorn & Rolf

Bonded to the Berserkers  – Laurel, Haakon & Ulf

Tamed by the Berserkers (coming soon!)

Owned by the Berserkers (coming soon!)

Sneak peak of Bonded to the Berserkers

Laurel

The first scream came from the dormitory. Loud and ear-splitting, it rang through the kitchen where I stood with my arms elbow-deep in soapy water.

“Curses,” I muttered, grabbing a cloth to wipe my hands. Who was awake and shouting at this late hour? Which one of the orphans had cried out? We all knew to stay quiet, even when being punished.

Sage rushed in from the back hall. She was my age, but small and frail, and much too thin.

“What is it? What is happening?” I asked.

“Somebody cried out,” she said. “One of the girls must be having a nightmare.”

That could not be it. No orphan would dare. Sage’s creased forehead told me she shared my thoughts.

Footsteps stomped up the hall—the friar coming to investigate. He would be angry at being disturbed. I’d drugged his draught that night, but obviously not enough.

Out of habit, I grabbed the mead jug, ready to refill his cup and placate him.

Another shriek rang out.

“What’s going on?” the friar roared from beyond the inner door. Sage shot forward, passing through the kitchen to hasten outside. I didn’t blame her. The friar would want answers, and while he treated me well enough—I was the only one who could make his favorite meals—Sage often bore the brunt of his rage.

Still, I backed into the corner. Maybe, in his haste, the friar wouldn’t see me, and Sage would also get away.  

“Sage!” the friar entered the kitchen, to be greeted with another chorus of cries from the outside. Something was happening. Something was wrong.

Another scream from just beyond the door. This time, it sounded like Sage. The friar turned white.

“It’s happening,” he muttered.

“What?” I pushed away from the corner, grabbing the closest thing I could to use to defend myself—a pot. “What’s happening?”

But the friar turned and ran back the way he came, robes flying and sandals flapping.

The door to the outside banged open. But it was only Sage, backing away from the door, her face pale as the moon.

I gulped in a breath as a bearded giant entered the kitchen. He ducked through the doorway and rose up, taller than the tallest man I’d ever seen. Almost twice as tall as any orphan. He loomed over Sage, and then stepped aside, making room for his companion to slip inside. A massive grey wolf.

If this was a nightmare, we were all having it, all at once. My grip tightened on the pot.

“Please,” Sage said. “Do not hurt us.” She shook but stood her ground.

“No one will hurt them,” the warrior said, his voice a gravelly rumble.  

“Leave them be,” Sage croaked.

The warrior advanced, the wolf stalking forward with him.

Sage glanced at me, and then away. She was so brave, and unwilling to give me up. The warrior had eyes for only her.

I had to help.

I inched from the corner, trying to get closer without attracting attention. More pots sat stacked on a shelf. If I threw the one I held, I could quickly grab another.

The warrior was talking to Sage, who looked as if she might faint. I didn’t catch what he said in his deep, growling voice.

“If you leave the others alone, I’ll come with you,” she answered. Brave, sweet Sage, always trying to save others, at the risk of herself. I wouldn’t let her be taken, not without giving her a chance of escape.

I took a deep breath.

The warrior gave up talking and reached for my friend.

I flung the pot as hard as I could.

 

*

 

Ulf

 

Do you smell that? My warrior brother, Haakon, nudged me. We stood outside the abbey, waiting amid the ranks of the Berserkers to claim our prize. The woman we’d waited over a hundred years to find.

Our mate.

What do you smell? I asked, using the private link that connected his mind to mine.

A scent like…flowers. Blossoms.

I sniffed the air. The scent was spicy and pungent. But there was a hint of floral sweetness.

There, I pointed to a wing of the great stone building, the part at the foot of a tall tower. The scent comes from there.

But, Haakon nodded to the second half of the building, long and low with a few windows. The main sleeping area is there. That’s where most of the women are.

I grunted. As we watched, our Berserker brethren broke down the door of the building Haakon pointed at. The warriors rushed in to claim the precious treasure inside.

“We must wait,” I told Haakon. “Thorbjorn ordered us to keep watch for any guards.”  

“There are no guards. These fools don’t know what treasure they possess,” Haakon snorted. “They do not protect these women. We will take them, and keep them safe.”

Glass shattered outward, showering the dark lawn. Warriors leapt out of the dormitory through the windows, now carrying small white bundles in their arms. Spaewives. Women with a magic deep inside, magic that would break the Berserker curse. Some of them screamed, some cried, some cursed and fought. By the end of the night they’d all be claimed as Berserker brides.

“Enough waiting,” Haakon hooked his axe into his belt. “Let’s go.”

Following the floral scent, we ran forward to claim our mate.

*

Laurel

 

The warrior struck down the pot, swatting it as easily as a gnat.  I shrank back but he gave me barely a glance before  returning his attention to Sage. The wolf barked.

I reached for another pot.

“Leave her alone,” I screamed, banging on the pot before I threw it. I grabbed up two more. I was fast running out of things to throw. Not that they did any good.

Sage shook awake and ran back down the hall. Frowning, the bearded warrior stalked after her. I swung a heavy cauldron and let it fly, hoping it’d hit his head.

Instead, it glanced off an axe, clanging to the ground and rolling harmlessly away. Two more warriors entered, crowding the small space.

“Go. I’ve got this one,” the new warrior, the one who’d deflected my missile, told the bearded one.

Run, Sage, I thought as the bearded warrior and wolf went after my friend. But then I turned my attention to the two warriors closing in on me.

*

Haakon

This is the one. I told Ulf, using the private link between our minds. In the century we’d shared the bond, I’d never felt such a rush of triumph. The beast in my breast crowed at the sight of the woman backed into the corner.

“Stay away,” the woman growled, as brave as any wolf. She caught up a pan and threw it. I jumped out of the way, and it hit Ulf, who cursed.

“Watch her, Ulf,” I laughed. “She’s a fighter.”

“I mean it,” she looked around in desperation, perhaps looking for another thing to throw.

She is our mate, I said silently to Ulf, who confirmed it with a nod. He kept his head turned, hiding his burn scars. Perhaps he didn’t want to scare her anymore than she was.

Not that she seemed frightened.

She was lovely, with  dark hair, flushed cheeks, a bosom that jiggled enticingly. I had to pause and breath in her scent. Sweet as a mountain blossom, with a touch of spice and smoke. I took a deep breath and caught another, disgusting smell. Cabbage?

“Calm yourself, beautiful. You’re coming with us,” I told her. “But you have nothing to fear.”

Her chest heaved up and down. She wore a little dress, not much, just a thin shift on this hot summer night. Did the holy man make her stand there in nothing but her night clothes? Did he like to look on her?

Jealousy gripped me. Ulf felt it, too. No one should look on our mate but us.

I took a step forward.

“Leave me,” she said. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for escape. She inched away from me, her bosom straining under the fabric of her shift. Such a nice bosom, two bountiful globes with dusky nipples pressing on the thin cloth. I could easily hold each breast in my hand, cupping their warm weight, soothing and teasing the nipples with my thumbs right before bending down and sucking the peaks into my mouth. Our beautiful mate would writhe and cry in pleasure. She’d try to stop me and I’d pin her arms–

Haakon, Ulf said. You’re distracted.

“Your home is under attack,” I told her bosom. “You cannot stay here. You will come with us and be safe.”

“Never,” she growled, fierce as a she wolf. She was lovely, our mate. Green eyes, black hair, and a bosom to make angels weep. To make holy men break their vows.

The beast within roared to life. It would not rest until she was marked as mine.

Haakon, you must not lose control.

“Come here,” I ordered her.

Instead, she looked to the left, to the giant cauldron sitting on the fire.

“Do not—” I began, but too late. She leapt onto the great hearth and kicked away the logs supporting the giant pot, yelping as sparks singed her bare feet.

“No,” Ulf thundered, as the cauldron tipped and gallons of stinking, steaming liquid gushed over the edge, splashing onto the floor.

 

*

Laurel

 

I rushed from the hearth, sloshing through cabbage soup.  The warriors bellowed in my wake. If I got to the pantry, I could barricade myself in. There was food there, I could eat for days. I could hide.

Strong arms closed around my waist and swung me back.

“Got you,” a warrior said. I howled and kicked. Somehow my foot connected with the right place, and the warrior dropped me. I trembled as I backed away. He was fine-looking, with brown hair streaked with gold, tanned skin. Fierce, golden eyes. Strange eyes—like a wolf.

His gaze fell on my breasts, and  I cursed the fact that I’d stripped off my dress. It was so hot in the kitchens, I liked to wear my shift when I knew I’d be alone.

“Come on, little fighter,” the handsome warrior coaxed. “It is not safe for you here. We came to rescue you.”

“What?” I half sobbed. My feet throbbed from the hot broth. I almost slipped on the soup- covered flagstones, and landed half on the hearth, reaching towards the fire. If I got close enough, I could grab up a burning stick and rush them–

“Enough,” growled a second warrior, pulling me towards him. I froze. He was ugly, a harsh scar marring half his face. I recoiled and he growled again, and caught me in his arms.

“Stop, Ulf, you’re scaring her.” That came from the handsome one.

Ulf grunted and pushed me forward. “Take her, then, Haakon.”

Grinning like he’d won a prize, the handsome warrior Haakon bent so his shoulder hit my middle, and then I was up, up, over his shoulder hanging half down his back, squawking like a goose about to be cooked.

“Stop! What are you—”

“Quiet,” a hand clapped on my bottom. I hissed at this outrage, and the hand caressed my right buttock instead. I almost started shrieking, but a draft hit my face. We were outside.

Muffled sobs and cries came from all around. The moonlight illuminated quite a scene. Large warriors milled about the abbey grounds, some held my friends—the orphans. One giant went by, dragging one of the nuns, who railed and fought him. Sister Juliet—a kind young woman who’d grown up in the orphanage until she took vows. She screamed as he tossed her up over his shoulder and strode into the forest.

“Let me go,” I struggled, beating my fists against the warrior’s back. My hands might as well been flowers for all the damage they did to the leather jerkin he wore or the powerful muscles of his back.

He gave a great leap, and landed atop the abbey wall. My stomach flipped and I screamed, but only crouched and leapt from the wall. Cradling me in his arms, Haakon jogged across the road and plunged into the forest. Trees blocked my view of the abbey, and just like that, the home I’d known all my life was gone.

Sneak peek of my story in the Royally Mine boxset :D

 

 

Royally Fucked

By Lee Savino

 

Chapter 1

 

“He has a dick the size of the Empire State building–and an ego to match.” The blonde on screen says with a perfectly arched eyebrow. The gossip newscaster across from her nods.

I hit pause on my phone, and the video stops just as the blonde leans forward to impart another juicy secret about Theodore Kensington’s dick. Her boobs look like they’re going to topple out of her shiny pink blouse.

“Someone’s already got a book deal to kiss-and-tell,” I murmur to the frozen blonde on my phone screen. “No way you came up with that line on your own.”

Scrolling through the rest of the news article, I shift to ease the pinch of my high heels This fancy marble doorstep isn’t helping my feet any. I’ve been up since five a.m. to dress and check out of the hotel, and take a cab to this modern palace north of New York City. The driver had just pulled through the opulent gates when my Oogle feed starts going nuts. I always set up a news alert so I can stay up to date with what the media is saying about my Public Relations clients.

“Theo Kensington has a long history of loving and leaving a trail of broken hearts. He’s the son of a Swedish princess and an American businessman. Heir to the Kensington fortune. Kensington, Inc. alone is valued at $400 billion.”

“He has incredible…assets,” the blonde cackles.

“He’s actually a prince, right?”

“That’s right. But he doesn’t like to talk about it. Prince or not, doesn’t matter. In the bedroom, he’s a god.”

I pause the video. The blonde on screen isn’t the first to call Theo Kensington a god. Last year, a popular Hollywood darling tweeted, “Prince in the streets, god in the sheets,” accompanied by a picture of the ‘god’ in her bedroom. A very naked god. The tweet was deleted, but not after it got seven thousand likes and reshares.

And now he’s in the media again. Prince or god, he’s my new PR project.

I pocket my phone and ring the doorbell again, but I’m not surprised no one is here to greet me. Mr. Kensington’s staff is probably watching the same media channels I am.

A shadow rises in the stained glass on either side of the door, and then the lock clicks open. A bear of a man with a shaved head and muscles straining his button-down shirt stands in the doorway.

Mr. Evans, my direct report. Head of security for Theodore Kensington.  

“Have you seen it?” Evans says without preamble. “The sex tape?”

“Yes, I was just watching the interview…” I rewind what he said. “Wait, there’s a second sex tape? Another one?”

“Just hit this morning.”

Shit. I fumble with my phone. “I thought they were referring to the last one, the one with the porn star,” I wrack my brain for the name of the blonde in the interview. “Pepper something.”

“Pepper Spice. And no. This is a new one. A redhead. At least, I think that’s what she is. She’s not too clear in the video. Mr. Kensington, however…”

“Shit.” This time I say it out loud.

“Exactly,” Evans answers, grim-faced. He leans down and picks up my suitcase. “Normally I’d let you get settled in but—”

“We need to get ahead of this,” I interrupt. “Where is—”

A bright orange Maserati roars down the drive. Bass on full blast, it zooms around the fountain accompanied by Metallica and squeals of delight. The air shudders as the car slides to a stop.

Three ladies trip out of the convertible, laughing. Sleek hair, huge boobs and tiny handbags. They barely look at us as they head down a manicured walkway towards the pool.

A dark-haired man folds out of the car, heavy metal still blasting from the stereo like a theme song. He doesn’t bother to turn off the car, or shut the door before he tosses the keys to Evans, who catches them with a blank expression.

“Park it out back for me, Evans? Thanks, man,” the new arrival says, and turns his smirk on me. I recognize him right away—the gorgeous, tanned face from this morning’s tabloids.

Theo Kensington. Billionaire. Playboy. Prince.

My new boss.

Want more Theo? He’s coming to you in a boxset full of Royal Bad Boys!!

Order now for $.99

Captured by the Berserkers

Willow

 

The abbey lay on the hip of the curving road. I followed the path, hurrying to be sure I reached its large oak doors before the bell tolled for evening prayers. Whenever the friar sent me on an errand to the village, he gave me strict warnings to return before sunset. Tonight, I hurried not only to escape his punishment but to outrun the almost-full moon. I needed to be hidden well away before it rose and brought the sickness upon me.

Lost in my thoughts, I startled when a shadow fell across my path.

“Good evening”,” a deep voice murmured, right at my back. I let out a shriek and dropped my basket.

Two large men stood on the edge of the path. Warriors, though they bore no weapons I could see. Both massive, with broad shoulders and great muscled arms, but, somehow, I hadn’t noticed them standing there until they spoke. Even now, they seemed to blend with the sun-dappled forest as they loomed over me.

“Calm yourself, lass. I did not mean to scare you.” One of them, a redhead with hair to his shoulders, stooped and picked up my basket.

“You don’t need to try to scare women, Leif,” the second warrior grunted. “Your face scares them enough.”

The redhead, Leif, didn’t take his eyes from me.

“My apologies, lass.” He spoke with a strange accent but a bit of a lilt I recognized from the Highlands, a mountainous area many leagues from the abbey.

Hands trembling, I took the basket and clutched it to my chest. The warriors’ gaze swept up and down my form, lingering on my breasts. They kept their distance. If they made any move, I would drop my burden again and run to the abbey doors, a race no doubt I would lose.

“You’re not too frightened?” Leif cocked his head to the side. He had an open, honest face, a scar marking his chin, and a full, lush mouth.

When I shook my head, he flashed an arrogant smile. “See, Brokk? She’s a brave little thing. I wager it’s your ugly face tying her tongue.” He gave me a wink.

My cheeks heated.

“Don’t embarrass her,” Brokk muttered, the stern set of his mouth contrast to his partner’s cocky grin.

“And miss the pretty color in her cheeks? Like the bloom of a rose.” When Leif smirked again, I caught a quick flash of fang. His canines curved over his lower teeth. “You’re lovely, lass.”

My lips parted. My heart fluttered like a bird caught in a briar.

The second warrior cleared his throat. He wasn’t as handsome as his companion, but his blunt features and glowering brow had their own arresting charm. “Leif thinks he has a way with women. I will not let him keep you long,” Brokk assured me, though at the word “keep” I took a step back.

With a low, soothing sound, the warriors hemmed me in. My head craned upwards to take in one stern, one smiling face.

I clutched my basket tighter. The warriors blocked my escape, but for some reason, I felt no fear. My body warmed further still, responding to the heat emanating from them.

“Can I help you, sirs?” I rasped. My dry throat worked to get the words out. Maybe, if I stayed polite, they would let me go.

“Do you live yonder?” Brokk nodded to the abbey, his voice gruff but kind.

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?” Leif asked.

“It’s Willow,” I whispered.

“Willow.” Leif rolled my name on his tongue, and I felt a prickle between my legs. My nipples throbbed.

“Willow,” Brokk echoed, and his face softened a little.

The ache in my breasts increased, and wetness trickled from my nether lips.

Leif raised his head and drew in a deep breath. Both warriors pierced me with the look of a predator fixing on its intended prey. I swayed between them, caught in their bright-yellow gaze.

My desire blazed to life, followed by fear.

“I should not be here,” I blurted. “I should not be talking to you.” The friar warned me and my sister orphans against strange men. Whenever he caught one of us speaking to any in the village, all of us bore the punishment.

It would be night soon, complete with the dreaded full moon.

“I need to go,” I whispered. “Please.”

For a moment, I thought they would not let me leave, but then Leif stepped away, giving me a clear path to the abbey.

“Take care, Willow,” Brokk said in his gentle rumble.

“We’ll watch over you,” Leif added. “Make sure you get safely to the door. After all, there are dangerous men about.”

My heart dropped to my feet, and he winked at me again.

For second, his eyes seem to pulse with a golden light. It faded, leaving an ordinary man. Ordinary except for the handsome face, the strapping neck, the fine muscles stretching the leather jerkin he wore.

With a small nod, I scrambled the rest of the way home.

*

Inside, the wall propped me up as I pressed a hand over my breast, willing my heartbeat to slow. I’d never had such a response to a man before, not even to Joseph, the village blacksmith’s apprentice who always smiled at me. I held my hands out and watched them tremble. Something about those warriors, the way they couldn’t take their eyes off me…my body buzzed, blood roaring. I felt I’d waited all my life to meet those men.

What was happening to me? I should’ve asked the warriors where they’d come from, and their purpose. I should’ve done something besides stand there like a fool, my face flushed and my heart racing.

Light filtered through the colored window above me, staining my hands red. What a fool. My encounter meant nothing. Warriors on a journey had found brief entertainment frightening a scrawny girl. As soon as they laughed over the encounter, they’d forget me.

Me? I’d think about them, and my wicked, sinful flesh would burn for days. In cool darkness, I slipped along the stone floor and passed through the sanctuary, head bowed against the cold marble stares of the saints. I’d visited the sanctuary often enough I’d memorize their faces. Perfect, and high above me. A good girl would do penance on her knees for even speaking to such a pair of such fine men. As for the thoughts I’d had when trapped between their large strapping bodies…I could never do enough penance to atone.

On a whim, I set my basket down and approached the likeness of Mother Mary. The statue stood at the front altar, her expression serene and pure. When younger, I’d pretended she was my real mother. I’d prayed for answers, for relief from the sickness I’d endured since becoming a woman. The Church taught suffering purged the soul. Even my prayers were sinful, the desperate begging of a weak woman.

Why am I like this? How long must I suffer? I found no answers in the beautiful, carven face.

“Willow,” a low voice called. A young woman crept from the shadows. Sage, my closest friend among all the orphans. She and I had been brought to the abbey around the same time. We shared a similar height and slim build. Despite my dark hair and her fair locks, we could have been sisters.

“Did you finish the errand?”

“Yes,” I kept my voice down so it would not echo in the cavernous space. I’d asked the nuns once why the statues of the saints got to live in such a beautiful open area while we shared beds in the dormitory. It took a few rounds of discipline before I understood the Church allowed luxury to the rich and the dead.

“Are you coming to Vespers?” she asked.

“No, I cannot. It is almost a full moon.”

Sage nodded. She suffered the same sickness I did, though less frequently, while mine grew worse every month.

“Here.” She handed me a handkerchief wrapped around a few oatcakes. The nuns did not allow us to eat if we did not go to prayers, but I had to hide away to suffer in silence when the moon rose.

“I still must visit the friar.” I gestured to the basket I’d fetched for him.

Sage picked it up. “I will do it.”

“He has been grumpy ever since Hazel disappeared.”

“I’ll be all right.” Sage lifted her chin.

Without a word, I raised her sleeve and studied the bruises there. The marks came from a man’s grip on her pale, thin arm. There would be more on her legs, but she would hate my pity more than she hated the friar’s illicit touch.

I released her sleeve. “The shopkeeper gave us a fair price for the herbs. He wants more of the tincture you made for backaches.”

With a tight smile on her lovely face, Sage nodded and slipped away. I prayed again, this time hoping the friar would be happy with the earnings she brought. The wool and weavings the orphans spun and the produce we harvested paid our way, though the friar always found a reason to complain about our cost to him. Only Sage could soothe him. He preferred young blonde things. God help the younger girls if he ever tired of Sage.

I scoffed at my own joke. I’d lived in the abbey long enough to know God did not help orphans.

A red sun sank in the sky as I hurried across the gardens, accompanied by the sweet singing of the nuns. A few years ago, I’d close my eyes and imagine my mother sang to me. A pretty dream, for she’d given me up almost as soon as she birthed me.

I slipped behind the mulberry bushes and picked the lock of an old shed. Inside, behind a few barrels used for dyeing cloth, Sage and I had wrapped a chain and set of shackles around a large rock. In a few minutes, I would bind myself there and wait for the fever to take my mind.

The shack sat back in the woods, near a gurgling brook, the forest sounds enough to cover the moans and cries escaping my throat when the fever reached its peak. No one should be out in the gardens this late, but, just in case, Sage would do her best to keep everyone away.

Willow of the abbey

I set the oatcakes down, too nervous to eat. I should kneel and pray. Instead, I paced. During the next few hours, I would bind myself in such a way I would not be able to touch between my legs, but the ache would become unbearable, my mind tormented with dreams of hands upon my body, caressing my flesh. In the morning, Sage would come and free me from my fevered sleep.

My body already simmered, the excitement a result of speaking to the warriors earlier. The thought of them caused heat to burst through me, a throbbing warmth leaving a slight trickle of wetness between my legs. The first spark would turn into an ember and light the fire that would become a blazing inferno.

One day, I would have the courage to talk to a man and flirt with him as Leif had with me. We’d slip into the forest and press against each other, his large hands eager and possessive on my skin. Afterwards, we would lie together on the forest floor, curled as close as petals in a rosebud.

With a sigh, I picked up the shackles. The cold iron stung my hands.

A clink of metal on metal made me still. The sound didn’t come from the fetters I held, but from outside. Someone had found my hiding place.

I waited, holding my breath, but no one burst into the shack. The friar had become more surly and suspicious since our fellow orphan Hazel disappeared. She had just come into heat and had the courage to defy him. We assumed he’d sold her off to a husband, but no one knew for sure. The friar had struck Sage when she’d worked up the courage to ask.

Dusky light shone through the cracks in the shack. Twilight approached. If caught now, I could claim I’d been searching for the dye barrel. After setting the shackles down, I eased the door open, stepped into the dim evening, and froze.

Rank upon rank of giant warriors closed in on the abbey. They crept across the grounds without a sound. They all had weapons, axes or daggers worn at their belts. The dying light showed their hands to be free.

I gathered myself to scream. A rough palm closed over my mouth. I let out a muffled shriek.

“Hello, Willow,” a voice rasped in my ear.

Disbelieving, I stilled. The voice and strong arms locked around me belonged to the redheaded warrior. His black-haired friend stood at his side, frowning.

“Get her out of here.” Brokk jerked his head.

My protests muffled by Leif’s large hand, I kicked and fought as much as I could, to no effect. The warrior swung me up, arms still clamped around me, and dragged me deeper into the woods.

“Stay calm now, lass.” Red locks tickled my cheek as he whispered in my ear. “You’re safe now. Danger is coming to the abbey, but we’ll get your friends out.”

Danger?

Why would battle-hardened warriors attack an abbey full of innocent women and girls? Had the friar cheated someone and incurred a lord’s wrath?

Despite my struggles, the warrior carried me into the woods until the trees crowded my view of the abbey, its turret shining with the last light of day. I went limp against him, hoping he would let down his guard. Perhaps I could still escape to warn Sage. She would be in the dormitory now, reading to the little ones, or perhaps setting out a tankard of ale for the friar to drink, in hopes he’d get too drunk to bother her. Around midnight, she’d slip out to check on me. She wouldn’t find me.

Of course, by then, she’d be taken, too.

Throat tight, I sobbed silently against Leif’s hand.

“Shh, lass, it’s all right.” He set me down but kept me clamped against his broad chest. “You’re in danger. You and the other spaewives. We’ve come to rescue you.”

I let my eyes close and legs sag as if I’d fainted. Leif propped me up, but when he tried to turn me into a less awkward hold, I broke from his arms.

After a few steps, he caught me fast. I went crazy, flailing in an attempt to get free. Not for myself. They’d captured me, but if I could get close enough to the abbey and scream loud enough to warn Sage and the others…

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Leif grunted, lifting me again. His large hand closed around my throat. He squeezed in warning, and though he did not cut off my air, his grip silenced me. Brokk hovered close.

“Put her down. Quickly. Bind her. We cannot risk her warning any guards who might be about.”

“Stay calm,” Leif shook me. “You’re in no danger as long as you obey.” He pinned me belly down on the forest floor, holding my wrists at the small of my back. Before I could scream, Brokk jammed something into my mouth.

“This isn’t going the way I wanted,” Leif muttered.

I panted and cried as they finished binding me. Then Leif sat back with me in his arms.

“There, now. Safe and secure.”

I glared at him, trying to push the bitter-tasting leather from my mouth. A growl sounded in my throat. False bravado—the rest of me shook.

“You going to fight me, Willow?” The warrior teased my hair from my face with surprising gentleness. I thrashed, throwing off his touch.

“Stop,” Brokk ordered, squatting close. His command stilled me. “We will not allow you to hurt yourself.” The sharpness in his tone and gaze warned me to behave.

“We’re not here to harm you,” Leif repeated.

I blinked at them. I sat trussed and gagged and trembling. A young maiden captured in the woods by two warriors. Limbs numb, skin covered in goose bumps. My light summer dress provided no protection from a chill in the air strange for a late summer night.

“You’ll want to know why we are here,” Leif interpreted. “Fear not. It’ll all be brought to light.”

A scream shattered the still air. It came from the abbey.

“Damn, damn.” Leif hauled me up.

“Go to the meeting place. I’ll catch up,” Brokk told him, and ran back to join the other warriors.

I dug my heels into the dirt, but Leif hauled me over his shoulder. His large hand smacked my bottom when I struggled again.

“None of that now,” he said. I went limp again, the fight truly gone out of me this time. Straining to raise my head, I could only watch as Brokk and his fearsome comrades advance to attack my home.

*PREORDER FOR $2.99*

She’ll be ours forever…

Long ago, a witch turned us into monsters. Our only hope is to wait for the woman who could lift the curse.

A century later, we find her. Willow. Our miracle. She’s hidden away in an abbey full of orphans, while evil men plot to sell her as a bride.

We’ll break her out. But she’ll remain captive to her desires until we set her free…

*Author’s Note: This is a MFM full-length ménage romance. There are no M/M scenes, just TWO hot, dominant warriors who claim the same woman…

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For over a hundred years, the Berserker warriors have fought and killed for kings. There is but one enemy we cannot defeat: the beast within.

Read the complete Berserker Saga to see what fans are raving about…

Sold to the Berserkers
Mated to the Berserkers
Bred by the Berserkers – free book at leesavino.com
Taken by the Berserkers
Given to the Berserkers
Claimed by the Berserkers
Rescued by the Berserker
Captured by the Berserkers
Kidnapped by the Berserkers…coming soon

Which book should I read next?

Brenna’s Public Punishment

 

Hey Spankos! Mated to Berserkers was just free on Amazon so I thought I’d share this scene… 

(Didn’t get your copy? Email me at silverwoodpress@gmail.com and I’ll send it to you. xoxo -Lee)

*

I took my place in front of the pack. It was so quiet I could hear flies buzzing, and the frightened pants of the bound woman.

It shouldn’t excite me but it did.

“Brenna of the Berserker clan, you’re being punished for challenging a warrior. This whipping will teach you your place. Pack rules allow you to submit this way instead of fighting to the death.”

I prayed she heard these words and understood the gravity of her offense. Berserkers lived and died by the rules, carefully crafted to keep the beast at bay.

It was up to me to complete the ritual. Besides my somber expression, I wore deerskin breeches. My chest was bare. I drew a knife and walked around to face our beloved. I held her eyes as I lifted the blade. She didn’t look away, but stayed brave as I cut off her meager shift. The cloth fell and bared her perfect body to every man and wolf in the clearing.

A short whine rose from one, and ended when Samuel growled. Today, the pack could look upon on our woman, but we would not let them forget she belonged to us.

Brenna closed her eyes. Her pure skin pebbled, from both the cool mountain air and her own fearful anticipation. I broke the ritual then, leaning forward to kiss her. “Trust me, lass,” I breathed against her mouth. She nodded. I caught the slight scent of her musk when I stepped back.

My own cock was painfully hard as I stalked back around and readied the flogger. I snapped it several times before laying it on her back.

I heard a harsh sound as she sucked in a breath, but she relaxed when she realized the impact didn’t hurt. I whipped her carefully, painting her upper back and curved buttocks red. These first strikes served to warm her skin and ready it for a long beating. Over time the sting would rise from the striped skin, but for now it would feel as gentle as a massage.

I paused when her skin grew flushed. Brenna’s breathing was deep and even. If I could, I would stop here, give her pleasure. But the pack expected her misery.

Flicking my wrist, I let the flogger fly.

 

***

A Highlander and Viking claim their woman…

For over a hundred years, the Berserker warriors have fought and killed for kings. There is but one enemy we cannot defeat: the beast within.
A witch told us of the one who can save us–a woman marked by the wolf. We found and claimed her. But will she accept us as mates? Can she soothe our feral nature before it is too late?
Highland werewolf Daegan never expected to defeat the curse of his bloodline. But when a prophecy tells of a woman who holds the cure to his Berserker rage, he and his Viking warrior brother will stop at nothing to claim her. They bring her to their mountain home and train her according to pack rules. But will her power be enough to break the Berserker curse?
*
“Double your pleasure with two sexy shapeshifters” — USA today bestselling author Renee Rose
“Where can I find a Berserker?” — raving fan

*
Mated to the Berserkers is a standalone, full length, MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman. Read the whole best-selling Berserker saga to see what readers are raving about…

The Berserker Saga
Sold to the Berserkers
Mated to the Berserkers
Bred by the Berserkers (free novella available on www.leesavino.com)
Taken by the Berserkers
Given to the Berserkers
Claimed by the Berserkers…coming soon

 

#SATSpanks Given to the Berserkers

This is from my latest release!

***

“Fergus! What are you doing?” I squirmed but he pinned me easily, shifting me so my bum draped right over his legs. He smacked it again and I squawked, though it didn’t hurt at all.

“Punishing ye,” he said, and I could hear the grin in his tone. “This is how wolves discipline their naughty mates.” His hand roamed over my naked flesh, squeezing my plump cheeks.

“It doesn’t hurt very much–Ow!”

His palm connected with my right buttcheek, hard enough to sting. I reared up but didn’t go far, as Fergus pushed me down with a strong hand. “And another to balance ye out.” Another smack rang out and I jerked my hands back to cover my now stinging backside.

My love caught my wrists and held them in the small of my back.

“Enough, Fergus, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Ah, but now I am enjoying myself.” His free hand went back to massaging my bottom, reducing the sting. He continued like that, alternating his caresses with a light spanking. I whimpered once or twice, but submitted to his ministrations. As the playful  punishment went on, my cunny began to pulse with each firm smack. Burying my face in the pelts, I let my legs creep together so Fergus would not see the wetness at their apex.

Of course, Fergus noticed right away.

“What’s this, lass? I think you’re enjoying your discipline as much as me.”

“I am not,” I protested, but his fingers slipped through my secret folds and then showed me the juice collected on them.

“Lying lassies get their bottoms smacked.”

***

Captured to be a prize in the brutal Berserker Games…

My life changed forever when the Berserkers took me. These fearsome warriors must find women to keep their lethal rage at bay…and I am an ideal mate.

The Alphas decree that all warriors must compete in a series of Highland Games for my hand. Of all the giant warriors, two have caught my eye, but I have no choice. When the final match is over, I will belong to the ruthless victors. They will possess me fully. I can only hope they will be the two I could come to love…

Given to the Berserkers is a standalone, full-length MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman.

★ “Hotter than Hades in the middle of the summer” ★
★“Fast paced, great fighting sequences and hot menage’ fireworks”★

CLICK TO READ MORE…

***

Check out the rest of #SatSpanks!

Training time: Given to the Berserkers

 

“All, right, my lovely. It’s time to begin your training.”

“Training?” Still naked, I wrapped my arms loosely around my bare form. The look Fergus shot me was wicked.

“Bend over the bed.”

I hurried to obey.

“Such a fine arse. Not too small, not to plump. And a lovely red color. Spread your legs, sweet one.” I rocked from one foot to the other, opening my stance. “Good lass. Now part your bottom cheeks for me.”

“Fergus—”

A smack on my behind had me hastening to comply. Flushing red as my punished backside, I spread my cheeks and showed him my bottom hole.

“Now there’s a lovely sight,” Fergus said with satisfied awe.

My face burned hot against the bed. Something hard and unyielding touched my back pucker, pushing in so it stretched the tight ring of muscle.

“This is a plug. I carve it out of wood for naughty lassies to wear when they’ve disobeyed. You’ll keep it in, and it will stretch ye to take us.”

My grip tightened on the pelts. “Fergus…please…:”

“Relax. Take a deep breath in. Now blow out.” As air left my lungs, he pushed the bulb in all the way. After the widest part went through, it narrowed sharply, easing the strain.

“There.”

He worked it in and out while I stifled a whimper.

“How do ye feel?”

I grunted in response. The thing in my backside felt strange but not quite unpleasant. My nipples were as hard as pebbles against the bed.

“Touch yourself.”

“Please…do not make me.”

“If ye cannot, then I will.” He checked me and laughed. “Soaked. Just as I thought.”

“This is not right.”

He dropped a kiss on my bottom cheek. “It is exactly right. Soon ye’ll be able to wear this in your bottom from morn to night.”

“All day?”

“Of course. So we can claim ye whenever we want.”

He twisted the dreadful thing home. “Stand up now, Muriel. Ye can suck me off before ye continue with your chores.”

Captured to be a prize in the brutal Berserker Games…

My life changed forever when the Berserkers took me. These fearsome warriors must find women to keep their lethal rage at bay…and I am an ideal mate.

The Alphas decree that all warriors must compete in a series of Highland Games for my hand. Of all the giant warriors, two have caught my eye, but I have no choice. When the final match is over, I will belong to the ruthless victors. They will possess me fully. I can only hope they will be the two I could come to love…

Given to the Berserkers is a standalone, full-length MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who make it all about the woman.

CLICK TO READ MORE