Podcast: Scandal and the Sexy Book Nerd Herd episode 71 – Surrender by Pamela Clare

Scandal and the Sexy Book Nerd Herd

Scandal and the Sexy Book Nerd Herd

episode 71

Welcome to our Scandal and the Sexy Book Nerd Herd podcast. This week we are discussing Surrender by Pamela Clare.


Check out our New Release Shelf for the week ending October 31, 2014.

This week’s Ask A Nerd comes from Amy S


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Scandal and the Sexy Book Nerd Herd


music credit:
Bass Walker/Cool Vibes Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0

Scandal Review

30 Seconds of Thought on Craving Resurrection by Nicole Jacquelyn

Craving Resurrection


Aces #4

by: Nicole Jacquelyn

Release Date: November 2014


What started off as a short story, maybe a novella has beautifully morphed itself into a full length novel. Poet’s story is on its way to you next month and in typical Nicole Jacquelyn fashion, it promises to be something truly special and unique. We are pleased as punch to share the cover and the prologue for CRAVING RESURRECTION with you today.  Humor us for a moment and enjoy our 30 Seconds of Thought on the cover and then keep on scrolling for the opening portion of the book. Some characters you know and love are going to leave you with your jaw on the floor.

Scandal: When Nicole first told me about her ideas for this cover, I wasn’t sure she would pull it off – well, color me ginger when I saw how wrong I was. I love how Nicole steps out of the box, hand picks her models and brings her story to life on her covers. The sense of reverence you feel looking at the way Poet holds his woman makes it feel so personal it’s almost voyeuristic.

Teena:What a great place to kiss a woman? On the neck, just below the ear! Seems to me that Poet knows how to make a woman sigh….and a Ginger for good measure! I do love me a Ginger!

Tania: I love that Nicole Jacquelyn casts her own photo shoots and her covers are a direct representation of her characters. If you know the Aces, than without a doubt you know that’s Poet.

Lola: Dear Poet finally gets a book! I’ve been intrigued with his character and badassery from the beginning of this series and to say I’m excited would be a total understatement. I can’t wait to read about his origins. Oh and did I mention I have a thing for redheads but knowing Nicole Jacquelyn can write anything I have no doubt this book will not disappoint.

Nikki: I suspected Poet was a lover before he was a fighter, but now I’m convinced. That’s how a man who truly loves his woman holds her. No ass grabbing, tit groping or hair pulling–just sweet and protective.


Craving Resurrection





I wasn’t nervous as I rolled through the open gate, though I did hope that I’d followed the right directions and an axe murderer wasn’t waiting for me at the end of the lane. My new Prius was so ridiculously quiet that I could hear every crunch of pavement under the tires. I could even hear the crickets chirping out in the trees to my left—though that was likely made possible by my four rolled down windows. I hated driving with the windows rolled up that time of year. Everything in Oregon smelled so fresh in the spring with new flowers blooming and the hint of rain almost always in the air. It was so different from where I’d lived for the past twenty odd years that I couldn’t get enough of it.

The road forked like he’d said it did, and at the end of the road on the left sat the big building I was searching for. I took a deep breath of relief when I saw the line of bikes backed up against it. Clearly, I was in the right place. Patrick had given me pretty vague directions when we’d spoken a couple months before, but I don’t think he’d imagined me ever actually coming to his clubhouse—especially without speaking to him first.

His number had burned a hole in my metaphorical pocket for months, but I’d refused to call him. I wanted to get my life situated before I dealt with his shit, and I didn’t think that was in any way unreasonable. Unfortunately, he’d disagreed.

I hadn’t called him, but the man had been relentless calling and texting me for months. The texting had been a bit ridiculous, because the asshole was so well-read that I knew he could spell anything, but I swear to God every single text looked like a five year old had written it. I’d finally realized after numerous texts that I had no chance of deciphering, that his thumbs must have been too big for the tiny keyboard, and once the autocorrect had tried to help the messages were a complete mess. It took less than a week for the messages to change from wondering how I was doing to bitching that I hadn’t contacted him. The only reason I’d even known that much was because he hadn’t been satisfied with texts, all phone calls had also been followed up with livid voicemails.

Like he had a right to expect anything from me.

I shook my head as I climbed out of my car and flipped my heavy silver hair over my shoulder. I’d pulled half of it back in a thick loose ponytail near the base of my neck, and for a second, I wished I would have brought a larger rubber band so I could pull it all up and make it less conspicuous. A bandana wouldn’t have gone amiss either.

God, what was I thinking?

I’d worked hard to be where I was, and I’d been comfortable in my own skin for a long fucking time. I wasn’t about to become self-conscious about something as stupid as my looks. I was strong, capable, and smart—those were the things that mattered. Besides, I looked damn good for a woman who was over forty years old. Yoga had kept me slim and good genes and clean living had kept my skin tight and my boobs perky. I wasn’t going to cower, goddammit. I didn’t cower for anyone.

There was an open door to the right of some large garage bays that were closed for the night, and I made my way there with my shoulders pulled back and my chin held high. I knew I should have been afraid of walking into a room of bikers I didn’t know, but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t really afraid of anything. I think that might be what happens when you live through something you never imagined you’d survive. Everything else seems trivial in comparison.

The place was loud, with men in leather vests peppered around the room and half-naked young women both big and small sitting on laps and preening for anyone who was looking. Good lord. It was like a frat house with old men. I’m pretty sure I saw a movie like that once…


“Amy, you look beautiful, as always,” a gravelly voice murmured behind me, making me spin around.

“Charlie.” I smiled huge as I took in his face, so much older than I remembered. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”

“Not surprised to see you, sure as shit surprised at what you’re wearing.” He answered with a grin, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Knew he saw ya a few months back, but he didn’t say a word about the get-up. When’d you become a fuckin’ tree hugger?”

“Probably about the time you became president.”

“Fuck, that long? Please tell me you still shave your shit.” He leaned in to lift my arm to check for armpit hair and I couldn’t help the loud barking laugh that burst out of my mouth.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Ah, still taking care of it I see.” He winked, squeezing my arm gently. “I remember Poet going on and on about how you shaved your pussy way back when.”

“Shut the fuck up!” God, I couldn’t believe that he could still embarrass me with a few carefully chosen words.

“Who the hell…” A new voice came from the side and I took a deep breath as I turned to take the speaker in. She was wearing a Harley tank-top and blinged out jeans and I would have known her anywhere. “Holy shit. Amy?”

“Hey Vera.” I felt my throat get tight as her face broke into a huge grin.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Damn, you look good!” She smelled like vanilla perfume and cigarettes as she wrapped her skinny arms around me, and I couldn’t help but hug her tight. I’d missed these two. Maybe if things would have been different… no, I wouldn’t think about that.

“Look at your hair!” she said, leaning back to run her fingers over my head. “Goddamn, it’s gorgeous. You here to see Poet?”

“Poet? That’s the name he uses?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Road name. Someone else picked it.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Yeah, where is he?”

“I’ll get him.” Charlie said quickly with a small smile.

“Slider,” Vera warned.

“Slider?” I snorted. “I don’t even wanna know where that came from. No worries, just show me where he is. I don’t give a rat’s ass what he’s doing. I just need to talk to him real quick.”

Char—Slider ran his hand over his slicked back hair, and gave me a cautious nod before placing his hand between my shoulder blades to lead me through the room.

“You come see me before you leave!” Vera called out as we left her behind.


He led me through a doorway and into a hallway that ran the length of the building, stopping a few rooms down, where I could hear someone giggling through the door.

“Poet, open up brother!” Slider called out as I slid between him and the doorframe and pushed my way into the room before he could stop me.

Patrick must not have heard us, because he was on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with a small grin on his face as a woman in only a g-string told some kind of story complete with animated hand gestures. She was young, I could see that much, and she had a generic tribal tramp stamp on her lower back that he was tracing with the fingers of one hand.

Aw, how cute.

“’I missed you’ he said,” I commented loudly in a thick accent, walking into the room as his head snapped up. “How’d I live so long without ya? Come home with me. You’re beautiful.”

I sat down at the edge of the bed and sighed dramatically. “All lies.”

“Who the fuck are you?” she asked, eyes wide, while Slider laughed, making no move to leave the doorway.

“Jesus Christ!” Poet hissed, pushing the girl off his lap.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love ya lass.” My voice dropped into his accent again, my tone growing more serious.

I shook my head slowly as I stood, then I finally raised my eyes to his and swallowed hard letting him see exactly how I felt about the situation we were in. His jaw went tight and his eyes grew sad as he watched me, a thousand words unsaid between us.

When Slider realized the show was no longer a funny one and left the doorway, I finally moved my gaze to the woman eyeing me in annoyance, her long fingers with bright red nails barely covering her fake breasts. I wanted to stare right back and scoff at her gravity defying breasts and tiny hips, but I didn’t let my eyes stray from hers.

I’d shoved my way into a private moment and she had no reason to be embarrassed. I refused to make her even more uncomfortable. She seemed nice enough while she was making Patrick smile, and even though a part of me hated it, she hadn’t done anything to deserve disrespect from me.

Because of those things, I answered her as gently as I could.

“I’m his wife.”


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