Black Ice Read Online Tiana Laveen

Categories Genre: Crime, Dark, Erotic, Suspense Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)

Park Ranger and hunter, Jack Currant was a quiet giant until his world came crashing in. After tragically losing his son in an unsolved murder, his life of isolation has become second nature, as well as his thirst for discovery and revenge.
Seeking a fresh start, Kimberly Milton has fled from the big city to the one place her family won’t find her: Alaska. She soon crosses paths with the enigmatic Jack, a mountain of a man who has become the subject of folk tales and chilling speculations and develops a friendship with him. There’s only one problem: it’s turning into much more as they are blindsided by love.
As their attraction grows, Jack seeks resolution and retribution with Kim by his side. Will he find the answers he seeks and finally gain some closure?

‘Black Ice’ takes you on a journey of twisted betrayal, icy revenge, enigmatic curves, and piping hot passion, and leaves you panting for more.

*This book is for mature readers.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Love Letter to My Readers


Some of you are going to skip over this. You typically do, right?

You think it’s a waste of time, and you just want to get to the story already. I understand. This time though, can you do me a favor? Read it. You may find it interesting and helpful.


To my fans,

So, we meet again. If you are new to my work, welcome. Towards the end of last year, like many of us, I set out some goals for the following year. I did not make concrete resolutions per se, but I had ideas, if you will. Notions that I wanted to expound upon as it came to my spiritual growth, my dedication to myself, close friends and family, my career. I was at a crossroads. Since 2009, I have worked practically nonstop on my writing career. I was dedicated. Relentless. Ruthless. I initially was a bit naïve, perhaps overly optimistic and trusting when I first ventured into the world of writing romance as a professional. As the years passed, I continued with my dedication, and improved my craft. I became a better writer. A stronger writer. I became more determined, and kept pushing myself. I learned useful lessons along the way, and understood that I was no longer just an artist, but I had to be a savvy businesswoman, too. I resented that.

I know it sounds funny in retrospect but let me explain. All I wanted to do was write and be left alone. However, that is not how this works. Not with all of these ads, marketing campaigns, blogs, newsletters, algorithms and engagement that need to take place and what not.

I also realized that some readers never want their favorite authors to deviate from what they always write. That’s a double-edged sword. On one hand, that is how that particular reader found you. They loved those books, those stories, and yet eventually, the author wants to expand their wings and write other stories in different genres. On the other end of the spectrum, we have some readers that are lovers of the spice of life. They want variety at every turn—something totally different, each and every time we put pen to paper.

This may mean compromising our style of writing, or losing ourselves completely, as authors. The same goes with readers who want the same “formula” or characters each time. The author then is no longer writing the stories they want to write; they are writing what someone else wants. So, the question before us now is: How can an author please everyone?

Well, the answer is simple: We can’t. We also shouldn’t try. Of course I knew this, but that doesn’t stop the heart from not following orders or common sense. I don’t even read my reviews, so the feedback was coming from those who wrote to me directly. I had to start protecting myself via the inbox, too, because I was trying to be everything to everyone, and in the process, the gold inside of me, that nugget called the writing bug, lost some of its shine. The desire to write, and write, and write all of these stories that were in me, bursting to get out diminished. It was happening at a snail’s pace.

At first, I didn’t recognize the slow leak, the pinprick sized hole in the tire of creativity. I had put too much pressure on myself and allowed others to worm their way into my brain and produce feelings that were not mine, but theirs. Typical empath behavior. No matter the good intentions, it is a destructive cycle. The whole reason I got into this profession, with that first book being, “Cross Climax I,” then, “Cross Climax II,” followed by, “The Slave Master’s Son” was because I love to write! I then wrote the Saint Series, the first three books, in less than three months. I was feverishly writing, and barely left my home. I got up at three or four in the morning and didn’t stop writing until midnight for many weeks. Sometimes I’d be up until three or four again in the morning. Twenty-four hours of writing. Obsessed with the characters. Driven.

Saint was a muse. An addictive, all-encompassing muse. He gave me the courage to completely come out of my writing shell and use my REAL voice. Much to my surprise, so many readers loved it. Crazy, compassionate, egotistical, sexy, horny, talented, intelligent, nerve-wracking, and Mr. Know-it-All Saint was the gateway. My life would never be the same.

The funny part of all of this is that it wasn’t forced.

I was writing with a natural flow. I was in love with writing. It was a full-blown love affair, all that I thought about. When I wasn’t writing, you know, these pesky moments when I had to actually eat, work, do chores, use the bathroom or see the light of day that did not involve a screen with words typed across it, I could not wait to get back in front of my computer. I remember being in overdrive and unable to stop. It truly felt like an addiction, but I loved every bit of it.