“This trilogy is EPIC! If you loved TM Frazier's King series, you MUST read the Perversion trilogy!"
- Meghan March, New York Times Bestselling Author
POSSESSION, part two of the dark and gritty Perversion Trilogy from USA Today bestselling author T.M. Frazier is available NOW!
The story of Grim and Emma Jean continues.
War is on the horizon.
We've come so far.
We'll have to fight for what we have.
Or die trying.
POSSESSION IS BOOK TWO IN THE PERVERSION TRILOGY
BOOK THREE: PERMISSION
BOOK ONE: PERVERSION
Download your copy today!
REVIEW
So good!
I am enjoying this trilogy so much!! This second
installment was intense, gritty and dark. Grim and Emma Jean's love
keeps getting stronger and they need that love to overcome so many
obstacles and dangers. This book is dark but in between all that
darkness their love is a beacon of light. I love them so much and can't
wait for them to get their happily ever after.
Also a few of my
favorites characters from previous books make an appearance in this one
and that made this story that much better! I love it when authors do
that, so thank you T.M. for that.
If you like dark, gritty
romance you need to pick this series up! Its addictive, sensual, violent
and so full of love. Highly recommend it!
4/5
Pre-order PERMISSION now
Start the trilogy today with PERVERSION
Excerpt:
Bethany nods to the box, again pressing her
finger to her lips. “We will know more when you’re assigned a judge. Until
then, we will just have to wait,” she says loudly. She points with her eyes to
the item in my hand, then leaves.
The object I’m holding is a rock with a piece
of paper attached to it by a rubber band. I pull the paper free and flip it
over. It’s a note.
Stay by the
glass, motherfucker! Whatever you do, don’t turn around. PS-You look nice
today. Prison blue suits you.
The one-piece scratchy uniform I’m wearing is
bright orange. What the fuck is all this about?
I peer out from my cell. There’s no one in the
room now. Not even the janitor. The security camera high in the corner across
from my cell, the one that’s usually pointed directly at me, is now facing down
toward the floor.
Whatever you
do, don’t turn around. Okay, so I won’t turn around completely, but
curiosity leads me to risk a glance over my shoulder. It’s just a wall. An
empty blank wall. BOOM. BOOOOOM!
An empty blank wall...that just exploded.
The sound resonates through my eardrums. I duck
and cover my head with my hands as pieces of cement rain down into the cell.
Dust coats my hair and the back of my neck. After a few beats, I stand, waving
away the plumes of the aftermath.
Through the debris, I can just barely make out
headlights. It’s a truck with a battering bar attached to the hood.
“All aboard! This train is leaving the
motherfucking station. Literally!” shouts a voice. I can’t see who it is
through the windshield which is shrouded in what remains of my cell. I don’t
have time to ask any questions of the mystery voice.
There’s no time to question anything.
The passenger door flies open. Two officers
appear behind me. One fumbles with the cell keys while the other shouts at him
to move faster.
It won’t be fast enough.
I leap into the truck and slam the door. The
tires spin in place for a few seconds until they finally grip the concrete. My
head hits the headliner as we reverse over the broken bricks until we’re clear
of them and are able to make forward motion. It isn’t until we’re through the
field and on the road when I finally get a good look of my getaway driver.
“Preppy?” I ask. “What the fuck are you doing
here?”
Preppy may not be part of any official
organization, but he runs a tight ship over in Logan’s Beach. Belly and I have
worked with him and his friend King a few times in the past. I haven’t seen
Preppy since before he was thought to be dead only to later be rescued from an
underground cave where he was held captive for the better part of a year.
“Grim? Fuck, I thought I was rescuing Bear. Get
the fuck out,” he teases. “Just kidding. If Bear was locked up I wouldn’t help
him escape. That fucker could use some ‘me time’ to contemplate his grumpy
nature.”
He holds the wheel with one hand and
straightens his signature bowtie with the other. His white dress shirt is
rolled up to his elbows revealing arms heavily covered with both tattoos and
angry jagged scars.
He lights a joint and tugs on the wheel, making
a sharp turn off the road into a dark heavily wooded area. When we’ve made it
in far enough to be fully camouflaged by trees and brush, Preppy kills the
engine.
He passes me the joint, and I take a
much-needed hit, holding the smoke for as long as I can before slowly exhaling.
“Thanks, man. How the fuck did you get sucked
into this?”
Preppy types out a text on his phone, then sets
it back in the console. “Bethany. I owed her a favor. She got my boy, Bo, out
of some trouble recently.”
“Isn’t your kid like ten now?” I ask. “What
kind of trouble can a ten-year-old get into that needs Bethany’s kind of help?”
“He’s eight,” Preppy corrects. “And my boy
catches the kind of trouble most kids his age don’t know is out there to catch.
My girls are easier. Twin toddlers. Miley and Taylor. The three of them, along
with their mama, are the loves of my fucked-up life. Bo’s a good kid. He’s
just…well, his brain arrow doesn’t exactly shoot straight. Its target is
usually more…”
Preppy shapes his hand like an arrow aimed at
the windshield, then changes the aim to me.
“Human.” He drops his hand. “And the incident
in question wasn’t that bad. It may
or may not have had something to do with the unfortunate disappearance of a
certain…”
He waves the rest of his sentence away like
there’s a gnat flying around his head.
“Let’s just say he’s grounded. VERY grounded.
For life. Or like a week. Minimum a few days. Or a day. Maybe, an hour or two.
Poor kid. Maybe, I’ll just take him to the movies.” He sighs. “You’ll see. Wait
until you’ve got some sex trophies of your own. You’ll understand.”
Kids. I’ve never thought of myself with a kid
before. I picture Tricks holding a baby in her arms. Our baby. Much to my
surprise, I don’t fucking hate it. Although, the thought isn’t helpful to my
current situation and only makes me more impatient and enraged.
One thing at a fucking time.
Sirens wail through the night. Preppy remains
cool and calm like he’s driving a parade float down main street, and not at all
like he’s running from the law with a fugitive.
Blue and red flashes light up the woods. After
a few seconds, the vehicles pass, and both the lights and sirens fade off into
the distance. “That’s our bat signal. Let’s get you the fuck outta here so I
can get home to the missus and eat her cookies.” Preppy pauses, probably
realizing his odd choice of words. “I do actually mean cookies. Dre makes a
mean batch of chocolate chip.”
I stare silently out at the passing trees.
“I’m going to eat her pussy, too. You know,
after the other kind of cookies. Just so we’re clear.”
“Thanks, man. We’re clear. And if you ever need
anything and I’m not dead or serving time, I’m there,” I assure him. I mean it.
I owe him a debt. A huge one.
“Hhhhmmm,” he considers, taking the joint I
pass him. “How do you feel about babysitting?”
I smile at his joke until I look over at Preppy
only to see he’s not doing the same.
In fact, it’s the only time in my life I’d ever
seen him with a straight face.
“I uh…”
He looks straight ahead through the scratched
and broken windshield. Bits of concrete from our escape attempt cover the
dashboard, and some of it is lodged into the glass. “Never mind. You can do me
one favor, though.”
“Anything within my power. It’s yours.”
“Don’t tell King about this,” he says. It comes
out as a sheepish high-pitched question.
“Why? He wouldn’t want to know that you broke
me out?”
King was a friend of Belly’s and a good ally to
Bedlam. It wouldn’t make sense that he’d be against helping me. I’d do the same
for any of them if the roles were reversed.
Preppy shakes his head. “Oh no, he knows I
broke you out. I just sent him a text to tell him it’s over. The grand escape
is complete.” He steps on the gas. “But he don’t gotta know I used his truck to
do it.”
About the Author
T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier never dreamed that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she is a five-time USA Today bestselling author and her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world.
T.M. enjoys writing what she calls sexy‘wrongside of the tracks romance’ with morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines.
Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay.
She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream.
Connect with T.M. Frazier
Twitter: @TM_Frazier
For Text Alerts: TEXT “TMFRAZIER” TO 77948
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