Blog Tour and Giveaway: Random and Rare by Cat Porter

I am that gash in her soul.
Once I loved Grace, really loved her.
And she loved me, and it was so fucking beautiful.
That pendulum swings to and fro.
We’re here,
and then we’re—
How can that rare beautiful be rendered irrelevant, intangible when I still feel so damn much?
Does all that energy, that glory, that significance simply dissolve?
Turn to smoke?
To nothing?
It can’t. It just can’t.
Are the moments that shape us absolutely random?
Is time not fluid?
I made promises to them, to her.
Especially to her.
Promises I still burn to keep.

My 4-Star Review

This story went to a place that we wouldn't expect it to go... It took us back.  Back to Dig's story.  Usually with these kinds of series, we go from living character to living character.  In this book we meet Dig, Grace's first husband.  But he isn't her husband just yet.  We get a better understanding of not just Grace, but the whole dynamic of the club.

Then we switch back to the future/present... Grace and Miller.  After seeing everything that happened with Dig, we are more appreciative of his love for Grace and now Miller's love for her.

There is always two sides to a story.  Both sides in this story will rip you apart from the inside-out!  This book is the missing link in Grace's story we didn't realize existed.  Now that the chain is complete, we can site back and wonder what more is to come of this club.  

Purchase on Amazon


“Hey you.” Lissa’s voice piped up behind me stopping me in my tracks.
Ah, fuck.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Busy. Got married. Life.”
Glasses thunked on the bar top, and stools shuffled behind me.
Lissa’s thin eyebrows shot up for a second. “Oh. Right.”
She punched out a hip and smirked. “And how’s that going?”
“Who wants to know?” Grace suddenly stood next to me, her eyes piercing Lissa.
Grace inclined her head. “Who are you?” she slowly uttered the words.
Oh, she wasn’t asking for Lissa’s name. She was asking a deeper metaphysical question.
“I’m Li—”
“And I don’t care,” Grace practically snarled. “This is my old man. He’s not yours. Not yours to touch, kiss, lick, suck, strip for, dance for, tease, nor does he light your fucking cigarettes or buy you a drink. Ever.”
Lissa gulped, her eyes wide, her body motionless.
Grace turned to her BFFs standing on my other side. “Did I miss anything?”
“No, honey,” Dee replied. “You got it.”
Grace turned back to Lissa. “Did that register, or should I go over that one more time for you to make sure?”
I was transfixed.
“No, I-I got it,” Lissa mumbled.
“Let me know if you need a review of these basics because you cross those lines again, any of them, in any fucking way, large or small—ever—there will be serious repercussions for you.” Grace leaned into Lissa. Her stance wide, my old lady looked larger than life. My cock stiffened against my jeans.
“Did you hear that, bitch?” Alicia said, her face twisting in a nasty sneer.
“Got it. Yeah, sorry.” Lissa glanced at me.
Grace leaned in closer, her hand gripping Lissa’s chin. “Honey, I get that bikers do it for you. But this particular biker is mine. All fucking mine, head to toe, inside and out. So fuck off. Got that?”
Grace released Lissa’s chin, and Lissa stiffly and slowly nodded her head, like a toy robot on its last charge of battery power.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Dee let out a throaty dark laugh.
“I know you’ve been trying your damnedest for the longest time. I’ve been watching. But he is not going to be tapping that ass of yours. Not ever. Get the fuck out of my bar, and do not come back.” Grace was still, focused like a stealthy cobra calmly waiting in between strikes.
“Okay,” Lissa mumbled as she teetered away.
“Tommy!” Grace shouted to one of her bouncers at the door.
Tommy’s bodybuilding bulk towered before Lissa. His eyes flicked over her. “What’s up, Mrs. Q?”
“This girl needs to be escorted out of our bar, and she’s not allowed back in. Got that?”
“Got it.” He glared at Lissa. “Let’s go.”
Lissa plodded after Tommy toward the front door.
“Lissa?” Two girls screeched and bustled at the other end of the bar. “Lissa? What’s going on? Where are you going? Wait up!”
Grace scowled at me, her hands digging into her waist. “Sprite!” she snapped.
I nodded as I rounded the bar top. She grabbed my arm as I brushed past her.
Her big greenish eyes flashed at me. “My office when you’re done, and be prepared to get on your knees.”
My breath stalled.
I fixed that soda gun within four minutes, strode into the office, and made sure the door behind me was locked.

Excerpt #2

“You want to come with us, Grace? Hang out. Just have some fun. ’Cause, to be honest, babe, looks like you could use it.” Sam squeezed my shoulder, and then his hand slid down and stroked my upper back. “Offer stands, Grace. We’ll be at the Bullock if you want to let off some steam. No obligations, no questions asked. You don’t feel like going home to that husband of yours, baby, you don’t have to.”
“The fuck you say.”
A sudden hush filled the bar. My eyelids slid closed at the raw anger in the deep voice I knew so well. Sam’s hand on me stilled.
Tania pivoted on her stool. “Now that’s gotta be your old man!”
Sam let out a choking noise from the back of his throat and removed his hand from me. From behind the bar, Randy fidgeted and swallowed.
“Yes, that’s him,” I said.
“That’s your cue to leave, Sammy,” Tania said in a sour voice.
I glanced up at him. “Bye, Sam.”
“Have a nice road trip,” Tania continued. “And I’d advise, you should find an alternate route on your way back to Texas, if you know what I mean. I’d watch it in Colorado, too. There are One-Eyed Jacks there as well.”
“One-Eyed who?”
Tania chuckled. “Best get going now.”
“Yeah.” Sam frowned, his eyes glued in the direction of the doorway.
I still faced the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sam’s friends gathering their jackets and shiny helmets and hustling toward the exit.
“Goodbye, Grace,” muttered Sam.
I raised my head and focused my strained vision on the reflection in the side mirror of the bar to see a towering and very wired Miller clad in ripped jeans and a white T-shirt smudged with oil. His large dark eyes looked fierce from behind a curtain of raven hair, the colored prisms of the late afternoon sunlight glaring around him, as he filled up the doorway, standing perfectly still.
Tania slid my phone down the bar to me. “I called your hubs on your cell, so you know.”
“I don’t like being thrown under a bus, so you know.”
“You were dragging this shit out. That is not the Grace I know.”
Miller’s gaze was drilling lasers into my back. I tucked my phone in my bag.
Tania strode over to Miller. “She needs to wake the fuck up.”
“You Tania?” he asked.
“Yes, I am. Spank her if you have to.” Tania marched out of Pete’s, the door swinging behind her.
I took in a breath and wiped a hand across my mouth. Heavy booted footsteps drew closer, and my breath caught. His chest rubbed against my back, fusing his body heat with mine, as his long arms framed me, his hands planted on the bar top. His warm breath was like steam on the side of my face.
“Babe, what are you doing?”
“Hanging out. Bumped into Tania.”
“Who was the dick hanging over you? Took everything I had not to bust in that pretty face of his.”
“Old boyfriend from Texas. Passing through with some of his friends.”
Miller picked up my beer glass and drained it before slamming it on the bar and pressing his chest into my back. “Oh, yeah? He didn’t know you were living here?”
“How would he know that?”

He tilted his head. “Long as he’s not passing through you on his way out of town.”

About the Author

Cat Porter was born and raised in New York City, but also spent a few years in Europe and Texas along the way. As an introverted, only child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from Vassar College, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events planner, freelance writer, restaurant hostess and had all sorts of other crazy jobs all hours of the day and night to help make her dreams come true. She has two children’s books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now lives in Athens, Greece with her husband and three children, and freaks out regularly and still daydreams way too much. She is addicted to the History Channel, her iPad, her husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and her Nespresso coffee machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy, and a productive member of society.

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