Trigger Warnings for A DISTURBING PROSPECT

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A Disturbing Prospect is the darkest book I’ve ever written. Not only is there a body count, but the book also deals with some real-life nightmares that I’ve longed to fight back against. Some of these themes may trigger personal trauma.

I needed to tell the story in my heart and right some wrongs, but I’d also never want anyone to suffer because of my words. None of these themes are gratuitously presented in the book, and my vigilante bikers always prevail. Still, I want my readers to be safe, so here is a list of potential triggers.

Animals: There’s no pet death in A Disturbing Prospect, but an animal is harmed.

Childhood Sexual Abuse: Some of the characters have a history of being sexually abused as children. None of their memories are described, but there is mention of it having happened.

Self-Injury: A character catches a glimpse of another character’s self-mutilated arms.

Sexual Assault: One of the recurring themes in this series is violence against women and children. (One of the other recurring themes, however, is justice for that violence.) There are some hints of past sexual assault throughout A Disturbing Prospect.

Stalking: A character mercilessly stalks and taunts another character throughout A Disturbing Prospect.

Violence: All of the good guys in this series are vigilantes—antiheroes who take justice into their own hands. There is blood, fighting, gun violence, and a villain body count.

If you feel that you won’t be safe reading A Disturbing Prospect, please don’t risk your health. As a sexual assault survivor and someone with PTSD, I wish every book came with a list of trigger warnings. No book is worth risking your safety.

If you’ve read A Disturbing Prospect and feel that I may have missed something, please email me at elizabethbaronebooks@gmail.com.


A nod to Tess Sharpe, who wrote up a similar list for her forthcoming release and made me feel like less of an alien for wanting trigger warnings.

WIP Wednesday: The Sex That Rockstars Write Songs About

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It’s WIP Wednesday, and since my Facebook fans asked so nicely yesterday, today I’m sharing a little snippet from A Disturbing Prospect. I’m elbow deep in edits and every scene makes me so excited for you to meet Cliff and Olivia. I have to confess, Olivia is my favorite character that I’ve written to date. I’m so pleased to introduce you to her!

Olivia

I glance over at Lucy. She’s sitting at the desk, pen in hand, making a grocery list. We have a mini fridge and a microwave, so my expectations are pretty low. “Is that why you never want to get married?”

There’s no answer because the door opens and all six-plus feet of Cliff bursts into the room. His brown eyes are actually smiling, and someone must’ve taken pity on him because his wild beard has been tamed back into a goatee. He instantly earns back twenty hot points.

“I have good news.” His gaze flits from me to Lucy, then back to me.

One of my eyebrows lifts out of habit, but I’m so busy wondering why he’s telling me that I miss whatever good news he wants to share.

“That’s awesome!” Lucy flies across the room and flings herself into his arms.

He wraps her in a bear hug, an amused look on his face. “Isn’t it? You don’t need to go grocery shopping now.”

She relaxes into his embrace. “I know,” she says dreamily. “We can take the train back and eat at my place.”

Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “Uh-uh, we have a deal.”

Stepping back from Cliff, Lucy presses her lips together and gives me a little nod. “Yeah, you’re right. We need to celebrate!” She hugs him again. “I’m so glad you’re coming home,” she says into his chest.

A twinge of jealousy runs through me. I want to be hugging him, celebrating his good news. It’s totally stupid. I don’t know him, and I don’t plan on it. One night is enough for me, and then it’s occasional family gatherings. No hugs or lullabies. I’m going to reintegrate him into society by fucking his brains out, then it’s back to class for me.

“And I’m glad I don’t have to do laundry now.” I toss the bag to the side, then reach for my cigarettes.

“Not so fast,” Lucy says. “It’s still gotta get done. I’m not putting his dirty clothes into my suitcase with my clean clothes.”

Cliff glances back and forth between us. He holds up his hands. They’re huge and square, perfect for massaging naked breasts. Twenty more hot points, which puts him at 110. Off the fucking charts, even with the crusty socks. Fuck me. I think I’m actually going to swoon.

“You don’t have to do that.” He smiles at me—really, for real smiles—and nods toward the bag. “Toss that over. I’ve got it.”

Lucy snorts. Both of us turn toward her. “Dude, you don’t even know how to do laundry.”

He scowls at her. “What do you think I am, a fucking rock? I can figure it out.”

My sister’s lips press together, and I can practically see the laugh throwing itself at her closed mouth, trying to break through. “What if Livvie goes with you? She’s gotta do her own anyway. And mine.” She smiles sweetly at me.

“Tequila,” I remind her.

She nods. “Have fun.”

* * *

The laundromat is empty, thank goodness. It’s going to be embarrassing enough for the guy to have to be taught how to do laundry. I show him how to load the card at the kiosk, then take him over to the machines.

“You just throw everything in,” I explain, reaching for my laundry bag. But I don’t take my own advice. Reaching for everything slowly, I pause every time I get to a lacy little thong, making sure he sees it. “Then,” I bend over slowly, “you swipe your card, set your time . . .” I straighten and pour detergent and fabric softener into their respective compartments, the liquid a slow drizzle.

When I sneak a glance at him, he’s making zero effort to conceal the fact that he’s staring at me. Suddenly it really sinks in that we’re alone. There’s an employee somewhere, probably reading a magazine or watching evening television. Crazy porn-esque thoughts stampede through my head: Cliff shoving me against the machines, his teeth digging into my lower lip as he sucks on it, his knee between my legs.

A whimper escapes my lips.

The heat in his eyes is searing, flames edging toward my skin, threatening to consume me and reduce me to ashes. And I’m not even at all scared. I want it so bad, I’m shaking.

He takes a step toward me.

Swallowing hard, I move in. I’ve never been one to let anyone else make the first move. I reach for his shoulders, my lips already parting. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life. This is going to be it, the sex that rockstars write songs about. The kind of sex I can look back on when I’m married with two-point-five kids and I’m covered in baby goo. It’ll be the lay to close my list.

I step forward. He closes the distance between us. Rising up on the balls of my feet, I take aim. He reaches behind me. My eyes flutter as I realize he’s going to lift me up onto one of the tables and take me right here.

A beep sounds.

I open my eyes. Cliff takes a step back and turns away. The washing machine begins to fill, water and soap sluicing around my clothes.

“Thanks for your help,” he says over his shoulder, already setting up his own machine.

Heart thundering in my chest, I make a beeline for the door, a cigarette already between my lips. Stupid, stupid, stupid, my heartbeat punctuates my thoughts.

Learn more about A Disturbing Prospect and add it to your Goodreads shelves here!