Showing results by author "BB Easton" in All Categories

In 1997, Ronald "Knight" McKnight was the meanest, most misunderstood boy at Peach State High School...perhaps on the entire planet. Knight hated everyone, except for me, BB - the perky, quirky punk chick with the locker next to his. I, on the other hand, liked everybody...except for Knight. I was scared to death of him, actually. All I wanted was to marry Prince Eric-lookalike and king of the Peach State High punk scene Lance Hightower and have a million of his babies. Unfortunately for me, Knight was even better at getting his way than I was.

"Since when are you into guys in ties? You only like guys who look like they rob guys in ties. At gunpoint." It was true. By 2003, my type had been well-established. There might as well have been a giant sign on my heart that said, "Good Guys Need Not Apply." Which is exactly why I had to friend-zone Ken Easton. The man was a former football star, smelled like fresh laundry instead of stale cigarettes, and had more ties in his closet than tattoos on his knuckles. Pssh. BOR-ING.

In 1999, I met my Prince Charming. He was the tall, tattooed, wickedly handsome bass player for the up-and-coming rock band, Phantom Limb. But, more importantly, he was mine. I knew it the moment he flashed me that shy, dimpled smile. And he knew it too. Hansel "Hans" Oppenheimer wore his heart on one sleeve and scrawled lyrics about me on the other. Unlike the losers of my past, Hans showered me with tenderness, took me places I'd never been before, and showed me the type of all-consuming love I'd thought only existed in fairy tales.

Ronald "Knight" McKnight was Obsessive. Possessive. Downright psychopathic. But that didn't stop me from falling in love with him...or falling apart when he joined the Marines. When he left, Knight told me to "find someone better", but I didn't. I found Harley instead. Harley James was a fun, flirty, tattooed mechanic whose face was as angelic as his secrets were sinful. He taught me how to live again. How to laugh again. But would he teach me how to love again?

The post-April 23 world is a lawless, senseless, ruthless place, but it’s not loveless. At least, not for Rain and Wes. But when the government begins holding daily televised executions as a demonstration of their power, that love is put to the ultimate test. Will Rain sacrifice one life to save the others?

With only three days left until the predicted apocalypse, the small town of Franklin Springs, Georgia, has become a wasteland of abandoned cars, abandoned homes, abandoned businesses, and abandoned people. People like Rainbow Williams. Rain isn’t afraid of dying. In fact, she’s looking forward to it. If she can just outrun her pain until April 23, she’ll never have to feel it at all. 

Wes Parker has survived every horrible thing this life has thrown at him with nothing more than his resourcefulness and disarming good looks. Why should the end of the world be any different? All he needs are some basic supplies, shelter, and a sucker willing to help him out, which is exactly what he finds when he returns to his hometown of Franklin Springs. As society crumbles, dangers mount, and secrets refuse to stay buried, two lost souls are thrust together in a twist of fate - one who will do anything to survive and one who can’t wait to die.

The world was supposed to end on April 23, but Rainbow Williams’s world ended days before that. The mass hysteria caused by the impending apocalypse claimed everything she’d ever loved. Her family. Her city. Her will to live. Until she met him. Wes Parker didn’t have anything left for the apocalypse to take...he’d already lost it all by the time he was nine years old. His family. His home. His hope of ever being loved. Until he met her. Brought together by fate and bound by a love that would last lifetimes. They were not prepared for what would happen on April 24.

Tras años intentando animar mi vida sexual desistí y decidí escribir un diario. Quizá mi apuesto y frío marido era incapaz de darme la pasión que yo esperaba; después de todo, mis ex ya cumplieron con los niveles de testosterona que yo ansiaba y encontraba en mis novelas favoritas..., así que, si no podía tener ese nivel de pasión, al menos podía escribir sobre ello, ¿no? Nadie debía saberlo, iba a ser mi pequeño secreto. Pues ¿adivináis qué? Mi marido leyó el diario. ¿Y sabéis qué? Le hizo cambiar el juego. Bien.