Thursday, November 17, 2016

~*♥Blog Tour with Review♥*~ Drifter (Nomad Series #1) by Janine Infante Bosco


DRIFTER by Janine Infante Bosco Nomad Series #1
Publication Date: November 8, 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense




I’m a drifter. A man born to ride through this world alone. There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives. I was going to be a true American hero. But God had another plan. Or maybe Satan did. For everything I touch finds mortality. I’m no hero. I’m nothing. I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell. Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos. The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes. A girl who has the power to turn me inside out. A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior. Until she’s not. But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.

Gina Spinelli 

Strong. Independent. Fierce. They are the three things I strived to be. But sometimes being successful can be lonely. Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her. Maybe even love her. Sometimes the strong become vulnerable. Or worse, the victor becomes the victim. Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you. Defeated. Broken. Haunted.They are the three things I have become. In my darkest hour I admit defeat. In my darkest hour I need one person. I need him. Stryker. 

***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. ***



Interested in a #Signed #Paperback copy of #DRIFTER? How about an official DRIFTER Tumbler? Click the button for more information!





It engulfs me, provides me with a false sense of security the moment I close my eyes and drags my subconscious into the depths of sleep. But, it’s quickly ripped from me by the sound of plagued screams. A woman shouts with a foreign tongue and though I don’t understand the Afghani language I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she’s yelling for her innocent child to run, to seek shelter and for the man with the laser pointed at the child’s head not to shoot.
I am the man with the sniper rifle.
I am the man perched on a roof, with my finger firmly wrapped around the trigger.
And that bitch just sent her fucking child to play in the sand with a bomb strapped to his back.
For a moment, I want to believe she’s not playing me—that her kid isn’t a ploy in some sick terrorist plot. I ignore the sounds of my men commanding me to take my shot, insisting that time is of the essence and if I don’t do it, I’m betraying my country. I loosen my finger around the trigger and open both my eyes and watch the boy lift a handful of sand through the scope attached to my rifle. He opens his palm and spreads his fingers wide letting the grains of sand fall through them before he looks back at his mother.
She shouts more of that foreign bullshit and I wish I could get my hands on her and slice her tongue from her mouth.
It’s the final thought that crosses my mind before I pull the trigger and watch the boy fall back into the sand as my bullet pierces him between his eyes--innocent eyes that were once wide with wonder now are dull and lifeless.
Sweat beads along my brow and I can feel the bile rise up my throat as I wait. Everything around me fades as I stare at the boy in the sand. I lose myself and question my purpose, my mission, my platoon—everything. The bomb doesn’t go off and I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. I frantically peer into the scope, moving it to the right in search for the mother. I picture the Virgin Mary cradling her lifeless son that was pulled from the cross and wait for the woman dressed in black garb to do the same but she’s nowhere in sight.
Before I can divert my eyes back to the boy the blast erupts robbing me the opportunity to look into his eyes one final time because his head has been blown off his body and the fragments of him are now one with the sand he was playing with.
This is war.
And this is hell.
All that’s left is the sound of my own screams vibrating through my body, deafening as it pounds my eardrums and invades my head.
It’s those very screams that pull me from my sleep night after night and why I’ve given up on getting a full night’s rest, using my bed only to fuck and even that didn’t happen too often.
Until her.
I used to pound my dick into any willing pussy, never bringing them into my bed, believing I didn’t need that false sense of hope that I’m normal when I’ve got a woman wrapped around me, begging to spend the night in my arms after I’ve thoroughly fucked her—only for her to realize I’m fucked in the head when I wake her up screaming like a little bitch.
Yeah, I didn’t need that shit.
Hell, I didn’t want it.
Until her.
But I’ve learned my lesson and I’ve learned it the hard way. It’s the reason I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of a fucking filthy motel—waiting for the sun to rise as I stare at the battered and bruised woman in my bed, when all I want to do is climb in next to her and pull her into my arms—take away her pain and forget mine. I clench my fists and keep them pinned against the arms of the chair as I take in the dried up blood on her naturally pouty lips—lips that skimmed every inch of my body and I crave every night since.
I tear my eyes from her mouth and zero in on her closed eyes—eyes I know are pale green. Eyes once vibrant with life and mischief are now going to be full of torment and fear—when the swelling goes down and she can fucking open them again.
Her long brown hair is splayed across my pillow, matted with blood and knots from being fisted and pulled, leaving her scalp sore and just as bruised as the rest of her. I let my eyes travel the length of her, knowing the body she’s hiding behind her clothes matches her face in color and shame.
A knock sounds on my door and I tear my eyes away from the restless beauty, squirming between my sheets—wishing its pleasure that has her twisting and not torment.
Torment can’t be erased, it can’t be silenced—that shit sticks with you.
It lives inside you and destroys you, fractures your soul and rips your life to shreds.
I may have rescued her tonight but the woman in my bed is as good as dead. Her soul has been taken, chewed up and spit out by the men who attacked her—when she wakes up all she’ll know is grief.
She’ll mourn the life she had and wish the one she’s left with ends.

Come Meet Author Janine Infante Bosco & Model Matthew Hosea at "Authors In The City" 3.11.17 in Raleigh, NC!



Title: Drifter
Author: Janine Infante Bosco
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Suspense, War/Military
Series or Standalone: Standalone Series (Nomad Series #1)
Rating: ★★★★
Reviewer: Melyssa
It was a year ago to the day that I picked up my first book by this author. It was the second book in the Tempted series, and there was just something about the way the blurb was written that I knew I had to read it. So read it I did. And when I was done, I eagerly awaited the next, which turned into more of the same until the series that brought me to her came to an end.

So imagine my surprise, when it didn’t really end. The series may have, but everything I’ve come to love about a Janine Infante Bosco book did not. Not the intrigue or suspense, not the characters and not even the bloodshed and tears. It was all there, just this time, with a different group of men attached.

Nomads. The wanderers. The ones without a home. At least, the ones wandering until they find their home in the Satan’s Knights. Find their home in the love of a good woman. Find their home within their own hearts.

And this, this is what Stryker does.

This is more than a biker book. It’s about more than an MC, though the one aspect that I’ve always loved about MC books still rings true in family. It’s more than a romance. It’s a book of heartbreak, a book about loss and a hell of a lot of pain, but more than all of that (which I know, sounds kind of depressing), it’s a book about the very real, often times overwhelming power of hope and healing. The bond of family. The reality of love.

It’s a fictional book to be sure, but also one that deals with some of the very real issues that a lot of men and women face on a day to day.

PTSD, Sexual and Domestic Assault. Abuse in its many different forms. It’s all present within this story, which doesn’t make this story one for the faint of heart, but the author handled it with such care, along with a realism that will make you question if she’s lived it or knows someone who has.

But even with the difficult subject matter, it was incredibly hard to put down. And she did it to me again, just as she did when she wrote the Tempted series, in that she made me cry. Made me physically need to take a step away from the story to be able to breathe again from the emotional onslaught I experienced the deeper I delved into the pages.

Into the characters themselves.

I fell in love at the same time I had my heart ripped from my chest. I held my breath in fear, never knowing what was coming around the bend, while hope still remained alive. I swooned over the busted but not broken biker, while my soul bled for the woman that sparked the lightning. I went anywhere and everywhere within the confines of this story, and by the time it ended, found myself, all of the broken and shredded bits, put back together again.

Healed by the love I mentioned earlier. Saved by the family and the bond that was so incredibly strong I felt as though I was a part of it. Given a renewed sense of hope and what is truly beautiful in this world.

And that, that’s what book reading is all about. At least it is for this reader.
My thanks to the author and all others involved in letting me read an ARC of this story. Gina and Stryker’s journey is one I won’t soon forget. I look forward to seeing what comes next!


Just for fun after you've read Drifter and you have found the beautiful in their story take a selfie and tag me! Use hashtag #FindTheBeautiful. -Author Janine Infante Bosco






Janine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild. Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself. She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.

Website • Facebook • Twitter • Pinterest • Goodreads • Newsletter • Amazon



TNTNYC Event website:
TNTNYC Event Facebook page:

Hosted By

No comments:

Post a Comment