Scottish psychologist Doctor Kelly Ann Darrow loves her career and has never permitted her feelings to impact her professionalism, but when biker Cameron Iss arrives in her care, she finds herself inexplicably drawn to the unconscious man. His tattoos and the mysterious circumstances of his arrival intrigue her to distraction.
Cameron Iss awakes in a strange country with no memory of how he got there and no knowledge of who he is. He takes out his frustrations at his amnesia on the sexy doctor enlisted with helping him unlock his mind.
A mutual chemistry forms between them, and Kelly is plagued with guilt at her unethical and inappropriate attraction to this, her most perplexing patient yet.
As his memories begin to return and they discover more about his violent past and his connection with a motorcycle club in America, the element of danger both excites and frightens Kelly, and nothing can douse the erotic fire he has sparked inside her.
Will Kelly risk her career, her reputation, and all she is for the man who has ignited a dormant passion within her or will his returning memories steal him away for good?
Bio for Lissa Jay:
Lissa is a tattoo loving, happily married author with a soft spot for rock and indie music and men with beards. The alter ego for bestselling contemporary romance author Lisa J Hobman, she decided to try her hand at a new
genre two years on from publishing her debut. The pen name Lissa Jay was chosen to keep her genres separate and Bad Company was born. This is her first erotic novel and is part of a series.
Author Contact Info:
Excerpt from Bad Company:
I watched him sleeping.I’d been doing the same thing for the past week since he was brought in. And with each passing day, my oh-so-unprofessional want for him grew more familiar. His natural, musky, masculine scent infiltrated my senses and I inhaled it deeply, closing my eyes and pulling it. Memorising it. I opened my eyes and trailed my gaze over his features yet again. Such a handsome face. Dark brown, tousled hair and more than a week’s worth of beard growth. I wondered if he was usually clean shaven—although he really did suit the stubble. What would it feel like to run my tongue along his angular jaw line? Trembling, I shook my head to dislodge the erotic thought.Annie, one of his ICU nurses, had told me that he had the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She only knew that from the times she’d checked his pupils.Sadly, he hadn’t opened his eyes of his own accord yet.
All I knew about him on a personal level was that his name was possibly Cameron Iss. And that was only if the note they’d found with him was actually written by him. My job—when he eventually awoke from his coma—was to find out why he’d tried to take his own life. As a woman, I ached to think of the torment he may have gone through to end up in my care. As a newly qualified psychologist, I was looking forward, in a macabre way, to getting inside his head. He would be my first suicide-attempt case. I glanced down to the panic alarm hooked onto my waistband to ensure it was still there. It was one of the things I’d been informed I should keep with me at all times for my own protection—some patients were known to get a little out of hand. Not that I needed it at that precise moment, but it was always better to be prepared.
The machines around my patient flashed and bleeped. But he lay still. After observing the scar on his forehead, I allowed my gaze to journey to where his long lashes fanned out on his pale, bruised features. Continuing to map his face, I made myself study the NG feeding tube with its medical tape holding it in place on his cheek and then settled my attention on his full mouth. He had those kissable, full lips… well, they would’ve been if they weren’t distorted by the ventilator tube hanging from them.
Good grief, I was being so unprofessional. He deserved better.But he was probably the most handsome—no… handsome just didn’t cut it—he was the most stunning, sexy, and sculpted man I could ever recall encountering in all my adult years. Fine lines caused an indentation between his strong brows, indicating to me that he was someone who frowned a lot. Perhaps he was uber serious. Stern. Harsh even. The thought excited me and sent shivers of electricity down my spine. He was dangerous, that much I could tell. The epitome of masculinity. Let’s get to the point here, he was the most gorgeous guy I’d ever laid eyes on. I chewed on my lip. As a jolt of sensation throbbed at my clit, I inhaled sharply. Just thinking about what he might be like had me pulsating and needy. But it was
wrong and I knew it. Bloody typical—he was in a coma and unattainable thanks to my professional code of ethics.
I sat there a little longer, tablet in hand. I hadn’t really focused on the patient record on the screen, and the tablet had gone into sleep mode—just like Cameron. Despite my state of heightened sexual awareness, exhaustion—both mental and physical—was taking its toll on me too. I could’ve just sat in my office, but the view wasn’t quite as good in there. Don’t get me wrong, the view from my office in the North Kessock hospital window overlooked the beautiful Kessock Bridge with Inverness in the distance. And although I couldn’t see it from my south-facing view, I knew the Black Isle unfolded behind me, and I loved that place. From my office window I could see the sun glinting on the Beauly Firth and watch the boats as they tootled by on the calm estuary waters heading out to sea. But… well, Mr Iss was heart meltingly gorgeous and was rapidly becoming my favourite thing to look at.
The many tattoos covering his arms offered enigmatic clues into his life—possibly. I’d examined them for hours, wondering what they all meant, if anything. Maybe he was just one of those guys who liked ink. But maybe there was some deeper meaning to the numbers, words, and pictures beautifully marking the man’s otherwise perfect
olive skin. One in particular grabbed my attention. It was the word Cosmic in ornate script on his forearm. Strange choice. The word was surrounded by stars, and a sultry woman with green eyes and long auburn hair, not unlike my own, was draped across it as if it were a bed. Some tattoos I’d seen before depicted women as slutty, half naked and big breasted, mere objects to be ogled, but this one was very tasteful. Yet it was out of character with the dark, foreboding images that covered his arms. There were some intricate tribal tattoos too that were really quite beautiful if you liked that kind of thing—which I never had… until I started imagining the bold ripple of ink over his muscles as he pushed himself into my flesh.
Judging by the numerous markings he carried on these relatively small areas of visible skin, I was pretty sure he had more ink on the rest of his body. Annie—lucky thing—had the job of bathing him, but it would be completely unprofessional of me to ask such questions about a patient, and so I continued to use my vivid imagination.
It’s a good thing that my superiors were only psychiatrists and not mind readers, or I’d be fired on the spot.
I was clearly sex starved.