Suffocating

I never knew I couldn’t breathe,

Until he forced air into my lungs

Gave me reason

Showed me life.

Carter Hastings was only supposed to be a fling,

A summer of fun, excitement, pleasure

And, it was…

Everything.

It’s hard to walk away,

To leave the one man,

Who resuscitates me.

But I did.

He didn’t reciprocate my feelings.

He didn’t love me.

Not now.

Not ever. 

AMAZON US

AMAZON UK

Meet the inspiration behind Leddy Harper’s character Carter

Hastings

1. How old were you

when you started Modeling? 35

2. Is modeling a

career what you wanted to pursue or was it something you came in to? I was

asked to shoot because I was in decent shape and a photographer friend needed a

subject.

3. Describe yourself

in 5 words. True Steel wrapped in velvet

4. How many book

covers have you been on? Not sure

5. Do you read the

books that you’re the model of? If I can get my hands on them

6. How long did it

take for your tattoo? Almost 20 years

7. Is Tank your

Nickname? If so, why did you get

that name? The nickname was given by a good friend while we were workout in

the gym one day. He looked over and just said ‘you’re a Tank!’ After that the

name just stuck.

8. Inquiring minds

want to know, who takes the photos that you post on Instagram of you in bed?

Honestly, it is mostly done by remote on my phone or DSLR

9. What three things

are you most passionate about? Family, bodybuilding and animals (especially

dogs)

10. What is your

guilty pleasure food? Chocolate (lots of chocolate)

11. It’s Sunday

morning, what would we find you doing? Walking my dogs in the forest behind

my house.

12. What personality trait

do you find most appealing in a person? Sincerity

13. Anything you want

to say to your fans? I am honored that so many of you want to see my little

corner of the world. I live an amazing life filled with challenges and joys but

it’s always a thrill. At almost 40 and a father of two, I would never have

guessed that I would be on the covers of books and I couldn’t be happier to see

yet another opportunity to challenge myself.

Follow Tank

Facebook

Instagram: @tankjoey

“Let me see how much you can bench-press.”

Carter shied away, his smirk brightening his cheeks. “Nah.

I’m not dressed to lift weights in jeans and a polo.”

I thrust out my lower lip and batted my lashes at him. The

wine eliminated my nervous inhibitions, making it easier to flirt. “Please? You

don’t have to lift much. I just want to see it. I think it’s the sexiest thing

in the world.”

His tongue swept across his bottom lip seconds before his

perfect row of top teeth clamped onto it. The bristles of his beard shifted

just below his mouth. My breathing slowed as my attention zeroed in on his

actions, wondering what he tasted like. Wondering what it would feel like to

have him bite me with those teeth.

A bomb could’ve gone off in the room and I wouldn’t have

noticed.

“I’m not adding weight to the bar, so you’ll have to use

your imagination.” He strutted over to the bench and straddled it before

lowering himself into position. As his eyes locked on mine, he lifted one side

of his mouth, and the entire room became stifling with the heat of my desire.

His thick fingers wrapped around the bar above him, and in

one swift movement, he lifted it out of the resting grooves. He slowly lowered

it to his chest, never taking his eyes off mine, and then raised it high above

his head. Even without weight disks, it was sexy as hell. I could’ve watched

him for hours, but my feet decided to take control and lead me to him. He

continued the motions of working out effortlessly while tracking my movement.

Without the wine at dinner, I probably would’ve given him a

compliment and then let him drive me home. But I did have wine. Three

glasses—maybe it was four. So nothing prevented me from straddling the bench

and climbing onto his lap. I sat there with my hands splayed across his tight

abs and stared into his deep forest orbs, not once questioning myself why I’d

done it. It had seemed like a good idea, so I went for it.

He dropped the bar back into the brackets, but he didn’t

pull his hands away.

“They say if a woman sits on a man while he works out, it

increases his testosterone, which leads to muscle growth and improves

strength.” The confidence in my tone would’ve surprised me had I been sober.

However, it seemed to have completely shocked him into silence while he

continued to lie there and watch me. “I figured I’d help you out with that…not

like you need more testosterone.”

One minute, his fingers were wrapped tightly around the

Olympic bar above him. The next, his hands were gripping my hips so hard my

bones ached. He tugged me forward a few inches until my pelvis lined up with

his. The harsh movement caused me to topple forward a bit, and I had to hold

myself up by his pecs to keep from completely falling into his hard body.

“If you want to measure the amount of testosterone in me…”

he gritted out through tight lips and clenched teeth. “…then sit right here and

feel my muscle grow.” It was obvious his control was in danger of slipping

away.

The sweltering air around us constricted my windpipe and

left behind a sheen of perspiration on my chest. It polluted my lungs until my breaths

were strained and thick, clogged with lust and heady desire. Had there not been

a fire kindling between my legs, I might’ve felt the effects of his words

brighten my cheeks and scorch the edges of my ears.

Every muscle in my body froze—I couldn’t move. But I didn’t

need to, because he used his hold on me to do it himself. His fingertips dug

into the flaming ball of nerve endings at the cusp of my back, just before the

rise of my ass. He pressed his thumbs into the hollow spaces above my hips as

he slowly rocked me against him. Every push, every pull, added friction to my

clit through my jeans and had me growing wetter.

Between the sensations of my nerves misfiring and the

pressure building low in my abdomen, I dropped my head forward and released a rumbling

moan. My lips parted and a wave of pleasure masked in air escaped. I hadn’t

realized my eyelids had fallen closed until my posture changed without warning.

My hands gripped his shirt, but instead of leaning over him,

I now sat in an upright position with his face close to mine. Humid air

billowed against my cheek, turning my skin sticky and unbearably warm from his

strained breaths. My fingers found their way to his shoulders where I held on

for the ride he provided. No longer were his ministrations slow, but fast and

hard. He didn’t just rocket my hips against his, he pushed his hips upward to

add even more friction.

More power.

More pleasure.

Leddy Harper had to use her imagination often as a child. She grew up the only girl in a house full of boys. At the age of fourteen, she decided to use that imagination and wrote her first book, and never stopped. 

She often calls writing her therapy, using it as a way to deal with issues through the eyes of her characters.

She is now a mother of three girls, leaving her husband as the only man in a house full of females. 

The decision to publish her first book was made as a way of showing her children to go after whatever it is they want to. Love what you do and do it well. Most importantly Leddy wanted to teach them what it means to overcome their fears.

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