Brighton Bad Boys Series by Tilly Delane

SilasWhen I look into my future it’s like looking down the barrel of a gun.Trying to pay back a debt that was never yours, a hopelessly fractured family, and betrayal by those you trusted the most will do that to a man.Most days I just survive. Alone.The guys at TripleX, the club that hosts the biggest illegal fight league in England, where I fight and bounce, all know that I keep myself to myself.I don’t do hanging around after lock up to pick up drunk girls from the bar upstairs... moreSilasWhen I look into my future it’s like looking down the barrel of a gun.Trying to pay back a debt that was never yours, a hopelessly fractured family, and betrayal by those you trusted the most will do that to a man.Most days I just survive. Alone.The guys at TripleX, the club that hosts the biggest illegal fight league in England, where I fight and bounce, all know that I keep myself to myself.I don’t do hanging around after lock up to pick up drunk girls from the bar upstairs.I don’t do staff drinks.I don’t do socials.I don’t do going to the gym together.I don’t do friendship.I work, I get paid.I fight, I get paid.End of involvement.The irony is, there is nothing in Brighton, the seaside city that I call my home, or in my life, actually worth fighting for.Until Mum brings home a stray American.A soft, curvy woman with bottle-red hair and green eyes and a mouth made for sucking.And no matter how hard I try to ignore her, she’s there.In my bed.GraceI’m here on a memorial tour for my mum - never mom, she was born British, and no matter how long she lived in Washington DC, she refused to be called mom.I lost her a year ago, and it still hurts like crazy.I saved up every penny I made since her funeral for this trip. Being here, in England, in Brighton, was supposed to help me keep her memory alive, to remember her and the stories she used to tell me.But in true Grace style, I fall at the first hurdle.The company I booked the hotel through has gone bust, the hotel never got my reservation and there isn’t a room to be had elsewhere in a ten-mile radius because of a small thing called the Brighton Festival.I’m ready to sleep in the lobby when the head of housekeeping offers me a room in her house, at a rate I cannot refuse.A room, it turns out, that smells of man in the best possible way.And with the scent comes a fighter, brooding and beautiful, and about as lost as I am.I want him.Badly.I just need to convince him that he’s worth the fight, and that maybe together we can find our way out of the woods.The Brighton Bad Boys Series is intended for mature readers over 18 years of age only. less

RowanWhen you’ve been to hell and back ─ and I don’t just mean the outer rings of hell, I mean the ring right at the centre of Hades, where gladiators like me fight for the entertainment of today’s Caesars and Caesarias ─ you come back a monster or a broken man. If you come back at all.I’m neither.I don’t know what I am.I know I’m an addict.I know I’m killer.I know I’ve been running from myself since I was twelve years old and that at every turn since I’ve made lousy decisions... moreRowanWhen you’ve been to hell and back ─ and I don’t just mean the outer rings of hell, I mean the ring right at the centre of Hades, where gladiators like me fight for the entertainment of today’s Caesars and Caesarias ─ you come back a monster or a broken man. If you come back at all.I’m neither.I don’t know what I am.I know I’m an addict.I know I’m killer.I know I’ve been running from myself since I was twelve years old and that at every turn since I’ve made lousy decisions.Time to face myself in the mirror.So I’m taking a trip to the peninsula of Purbeck, a beautiful nature reserve on the south coast of England, to enter rehab.Can you rehabilitate a killer? Can you rehabilitate a broken beast?I doubt it, but at least I’m willing to try.The last thing I expected was to meet a soul as tortured as me, a woman whose eyes tell me she’s seen it, the ugliness of life.And she can deal.She won’t look away.She is competence in a fifties retro package with fishnets and combat boots.She’s my nurse.And totally off limits.RavenI came out to meet the guy because he took longer than is normal. I thought he might have gotten lost. Though that’s pretty hard when going in a straight line down what was once the only road in a village. But it’s a rehab clinic. Folk are kinda lost by definition when they get here.So I came to see what was taking him so long and found him going down on the water fountain.I mean, seriously, the way he hulked over it, half his face under the stream, his tongue lapping at the water, was obscene, feral. So my smart mouth decided to make a comment. A wholly unprofessional comment, and now I’m standing here, mesmerised. Like Mowgli meeting Kaa.‘Cause he’s staring me down like a pro.I can’t look away from his eyes. They are huge, a deep, warm brown and they tell me stories too close for comfort. This is a guy who gets it. Life. The ugliness. The bits where other people play three monkeys. He sees them.He sees me.And I see him.But he’s a client and that’s where the story ends.It’s my last intake of guests.In a month from now my year in the British Isles is over, I’ll hand over my job to a local, and I’ll be going home to America.And I’m not getting fired in the meantime because of a ‘connection’ to some sexy giant with muscle for miles.‘Connections’ are a myth.And a myth is not worth getting fired over.But what if there is more than a connection? What if there is actual healing?Rowan is the second volume in the Brighton Bad Boys series but can be enjoyed as a standalone. You'll get a fuller picture and more of the nuances if you read 'Silas' first but it's not a necessity.The Brighton Bad Boys Series is intended for mature readers over 18 years of age only. less

Diego's story is the third and final instalment of the Brighton Bad Boys series and it will come with all the panache you'd expect from Brighton's favourite mobster prince. Real blurb soon.The Brighton Bad Boys Series is intended for mature readers over 18 years of age only.