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Nuworld: Claiming Tara, Book 1 blurb:
Nuworld: Claiming Tara – the post-apocalyptic, sensually erotic saga between a warrior heiress and the ruthless, dominating leader of men who vows to possess her.
Two leaders—one world—vividly sexual and graphically violent! CLAIMING TARA will excite you, entrance you, and challenge everything you believe in.
Visit www.lauriefitzgerald.net to read the first chapter.
In a brand new world sprung up from the ashes, a young lady destined to lead the most dangerous race of warriors on the planet, embarks on a road of self-awareness, the Age of Searching.
As heir to all Runner clans on Nuworld, Tara knows their worst enemy is the Gothman race. A runner will be shot and killed on sight if discovered within Gothman borders. Yet they are a race Tara doesn’t understand. She decides to walk among them as one of their own.
It’s hard to believe that Gothman only train half their people to fight. How they are equally as powerful, or dangerous, as the Runners is beyond Tara’s comprehension. Gothman women are little more than property to their families or the men who claim them.
The leader of Gothman, Lord Darius, isn’t easily fooled. He knows there is a Runner on his soil. The second he meets Tara, he knows he’s found one of the most beautiful and enticing women he’s ever met. He also sees through her charade and knows she’s a Runner.
Darius instantly claims Tara and moves her into his home. Tara is forced to oblige or risk being killed as a Runner. Being submissive isn’t as easy as Tara thought. Taming Tara is much harder to do than Darius originally believed. As their attraction for each other grows, so does their willingness to admit that as enemies, they have a very dangerous problem.
What follows is sexually erotic, a power play between two people convinced they can tame the other, and a scandalous adventure that will test your beliefs, your scruples, and your heart.
“Reena’s niece, Tara, what are you doing here?” He had a beautiful Gothman accent. Which was odd because the mixture of slur and guttural in the dialogue wasn’t something she’d normally call beautiful.
“Waiting on my aunt.”
“In the merchants’ lane?”
Since she didn’t have an answer Tara decided it was a good time to appear submissive. But the moment she lowered her gaze, the man grabbed her chin. She flinched. At least she prayed that was how this trained warrior read her body language. In truth, it took tightening every muscle in her body not to knock the pompous man off his bike.
“I haven’t seen you before.”
“I’ve just arrived and came into town with her today for the first time.”
“I see. Well, Tara, Reena’s niece, I’ll be thanking you for breaking up the fight for my younger brother’s sake.”
Tara looked him in the eye, forgetting about submission. Younger brother, not claimed?
“You’re welcome,” she said and focused on how the loose fitting off-white shirt under his brown leather jacket didn’t prevent her from seeing how well built he was.
His expression didn’t change nor did he bother to say who he was. He also gave no indication if he thought it odd that a Gothman woman prevented a fight. Maybe the women here stopped boys from fighting. They spent their lives raising children, after all. Tara tried relaxing but the overwhelming urge to back away from his grip prevented her from doing so.
“You’re quite beautiful.” He turned her head, his grip tightening along her chin and neck. “You’ve been brought here to be claimed.”
The man didn’t make it a question. Tara quit looking at his chest and shot her attention to his face. He wasn’t looking at her but tilted her head to the side so that her hair fell over his hand. His gaze was directed lower on her body. The man took his time, moving her head as he gave her a serious once over.
There was only a moment but Tara saw it as an opportunity to learn about male Gothman. Her initial reaction wasn’t good. Never in her life had she been man-handled as if she were a product that might be purchased at will. It unnerved her. Her gut told her to fight back, force his release, demand he treat her with respect.
“That should be a successful endeavour,” he murmured and released her.
Tara stepped back involuntarily and caught herself adjusting her clothes. It seemed he still gripped her neck and her fingers fluttered to where he’d held her before looking at him.
“I’m not sure that—“ She broke off, hesitating on how to respond without giving herself away. How was she supposed to answer him? Although, it dawned on her, he hadn’t asked a question so maybe silence was best.
He looked at her a minute longer, then left her standing there and drove down the street.
Tara exhaled slowly, willing her heart to stop pounding as she walked to the sidewalk and stared after him. Her skin tingled where he’d held her chin and neck and she didn’t like the sensation. It shouldn’t matter what he said about a claiming. That wouldn’t happen. She was here to observe and that was it. But had he said thank you for breaking up the fight? Had he seen her shoot the trashcan?
Tara turned to create distance, and Darius bent one leg, blocking her path. She didn’t jump around him, or stumble over him, but merely stopped. “Is this how you take every lady who catches your eye, my lord?”
“I’ve never waited this long before.” Darius sounded amused. “But then any other lass would have submitted by now.”
Tara almost said she wasn’t any other lass. Those would have been her exact words to any other man, but Lord Darius wasn’t any other man. No man had ever stimulated her emotions like this before, much less one who kept her guessing at the same time. She might enjoy this man, and it would be a long time before she grew bored.
“Do they fall at your feet? Or do they simply strip in front of you?” Tara asked as she continued to stare at the leg blocking her path.
“Has it crossed your mind to do either?”
Tara sensed Darius’ movement and turned as he leaned forward. “No,” she stated, unable to do more as one large hand interlocked fingers with her smaller hand. Tara didn’t oppose the touch, but studied his hand, which now held hers. The rough heat from his grasp sent warmth up her arm at an amazing speed.
“I’ll teach you to submit.” Darius didn’t make the statement as a threat, but spoke the words gently, as a papa willing to show a child a new lesson.
When he pulled her to him, the only thing crossing Tara’s mind was that likewise, she would teach him manners. The intensity of his gaze, those gray eyes, so unique in color, watching her while he drew her closer, gave her the impression teaching him anything would be quite the chore. Stubborn and powerful, ruthless and aggressive, she saw the bad and the good in him with defined clarity.
She wanted to look away, anything to distract her. But damn it if she didn’t want to taste him and know the source of the heat that flooded through her with just his touch.
His arms wrapped her into him, almost crushing her in their grip. And then he kissed her.
Tara didn’t try stopping him. Placing her arms on his shoulders, then grabbing hair on either side of his head, she returned the kiss with an aggression she’d never used on a man before.
He slid her off the rock and onto the ground. His strength made her wild. All attempts to conceal her identity were forgotten. A thick fog of lust consumed her senses. His body was strong, powerful, and dangerous. It excited her more than anything had before. She fought to strip the pants away from the treasure that would be hers.
He was huge, hardened to stone. She felt, more than saw, his erection. Hhis hands were rough on her as he used confident expertise in removing her dress. It was tossed to the side and instantly forgotten. Then Darius’ hand was between her legs, testing her for moistness. Not that she wanted foreplay. This wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t as if the two of them would ever have a relationship.
“Let’s see if you fuck as well as you defy a man, my lady,” he growled.
Tara was up to the challenge. “On your back,” she insisted, pushing against him as he spoke.
Darius pushed his finger inside her instead of obeying. He did lift himself off of her partially, but only to grab her hair with his free hand and pull.
“The first lesson in submission is not telling me what to do,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers as he spoke.