Title: Ruthless Queen
Series: Ruthless Royals Duet #2
Author: Amanda Richardson
Genre: Reverse Harem High School
Bully Romance
Release Date: September 14, 2021
BLURB
Hunter, Ash, Ledger, and Samson.
The Kings of Ravenwood Academy.
Their names still send shivers down my spine, for more than one reason.
Back then, they didn’t expect me to fight back.
But I did.
And now I’m theirs.
After making a pact with them, they help me get revenge on the one man who wronged me.
I’m not the same meek, little girl that got taken advantage of.
Now, I have four ruthless guys willing to risk everything for me.
The only problem is, I promised them everything I had in return for their help.
So while I may be the new Queen of Ravenwood, the Kings still own me, body and soul.
And I’m not quite sure I’m ready to hand over my crown.
Ruthless Queen is full-length high-school bully reverse harem romance. It is book two of the Ruthless Royals duet. It is advised to read them in order. *Please note Ruthless Queen contains explicit language, bullying, violence, and flashbacks of abuse/trauma. It also features four hot AF guys who would do anything to protect their feisty Queen. The story concludes with this book and does have a HEA.
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EXCERPT
“Right. So for Texas Hold’em, we each get five cards,” I say quickly, nodding to Hunter. He doles out our hands, and then I get into explaining the different types of hands—royal flush, straight flush, 4 of a kind, etc. “I think it’ll be easiest if we play a straight five-card draw, so from our five cards, we can take turns exchanging one or more of them from the remaining deck.” I look at Hunter, and then at each of the guys. “Ready?”
“Easy enough,” Ash muses from across from me. “You start, little lamb.”
This place brings out the wild in us.
I can feel all of them watching me, and the hairs on the back of my neck begin to tingle.
We take turns exchanging cards until we’re all satisfied with our hands. We each lay down our cards. I have a straight flush, but Ledger has a royal flush.
“I win,” he smirks, nodding to my jacket. “Strip.”
My eyes snap to his, and something heated looks back at me. Something, not someone—almost like he’s no longer human. Not my friend—but an animal. I pull my lower lip between my teeth as I remove my jacket, and Samson begins to reshuffle the cards for the next round.
“You guys have to strip, too,” I command, glaring at Hunter, Ash, and Samson.
And they do.
The air turns then—and I’m suddenly so aware of that fact that all five of us are out here together. Alone. Teenage hormones raging, dirty thoughts racing…it’s not like there’s not a precedent. Aside from Ledger, I’ve slept with all of them. So why are my hands shaking? Don’t I trust them? Is it just being with them together—or the uncertainty of what could happen? Up here, it almost feels like there are no rules.
We continue to play. I manage to win the next round, and as the guys take off another article of clothing, my senses awaken. I can smell the cologne Hunter uses, and the laundry detergent on Samson’s shirt. The light, while bright, feels artificial, and I reach over to turn it down a couple of notches so that it’s dimmer in here. I can feel the body heat radiating off each of them—and my own, as my chest flushes with color at Ash’s lingering gaze. The clicking of the shuffling cards reverberates down my spine as Samson shuffles, his eyes never leaving mine. I end up losing my shirt, and then my pants, and I must actively keep my gaze on the floor of the tent, the plastic sticking to the backs of my bare thighs.
Hunter bought me a few new lingerie sets, including this one—a white, lace push-up bra that does wonders for my boobs, accompanied by a high-waisted, white thong.
“You wore that to camp?” Samson grits out, incredulous.
“I bought it for her,” Hunter mumbles.
A twig snaps outside the tent, and the adrenaline that courses through me, the way my heart pounds against my ribs, just adds to the intensity of the game. The dim light exaggerates our shadows, so that each movement causes the light in the large tent to flicker. I swallow as the only sound I hear is an owl hooting, and the cards flicking against the fabric of the tent floor. Everyone is silent, and I dig my nails into my palms nervously. Each of them still watches me like a hawk—like they want to take turns devouring me whole.
I can’t help but admit to myself that I want them to.
I want all of them.
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Amanda Richardson writes from her chaotic dining room table in Los Angeles, often distracted by her husband and two adorable sons. When she's not writing contemporary and dark, twisted romance, she enjoys coffee (a little too much) and collecting house plants like they're going out of style.
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