RESUSCITATE ME by Leddy Harper



Model: Tank Joey

Golden (furious fotog)


I never knew I couldn’t breathe,
Until he forced air into my lungs
Gave me reason
Showed me life.
Carter Hastings was only supposed to be a fling,
A summer of fun, excitement, pleasure
And, it was…
It’s hard to walk away,
To leave the one man,
Who resuscitates me.
But I did.
He didn’t reciprocate my feelings.
He didn’t love me.
Not now.


Not ever. 



Add to Goodreads

Coming November 16, 2016






Meet the inspiration behind Leddy Harper’s character Carter
1. How old were you
when you started Modeling?
2. Is modeling a
career what you wanted to pursue or was it something you came in to?
I was asked to shoot because I was in decent shape and a photographer friend needed a subject.
3. Describe yourself
in 5 words.
True Steel wrapped in velvet
4. How many book
covers have you been on?
Not sure
5. Do you read the
books that you’re the model of?
If I can get my hands on them
6. How long did it
take for your tattoo?
Almost 20 years
7. Is Tank your
If so, why did you get
that name?
The nickname was given by a good friend while we were workout in
the gym one day. He looked over and just said ‘you’re a Tank!’ After that the
name just stuck.
8. Inquiring minds
want to know, who takes the photos that you post on Instagram of you in bed?

Honestly, it is mostly done by remote on my phone or DSLR
9. What three things
are you most passionate about?
Family, bodybuilding and animals (especially
10. What is your
guilty pleasure food?
Chocolate (lots of chocolate)
11. It’s Sunday
morning, what would we find you doing?
Walking my dogs in the forest behind
my house.
12. What personality trait
do you find most appealing in a person?
13. Anything you want
to say to your fans?
I am honored that so many of you want to see my little
corner of the world. I live an amazing life filled with challenges and joys but
it’s always a thrill. At almost 40 and a father of two, I would never have
guessed that I would be on the covers of books and I couldn’t be happier to see
yet another opportunity to challenge myself.

Follow Tank
Instagram: @tankjoey



“Let me see how much you can bench-press.”
Carter shied away, his smirk brightening his cheeks. “Nah.
I’m not dressed to lift weights in jeans and a polo.”
I thrust out my lower lip and batted my lashes at him. The
wine eliminated my nervous inhibitions, making it easier to flirt. “Please? You
don’t have to lift much. I just want to see it. I think it’s the sexiest thing
in the world.”
His tongue swept across his bottom lip seconds before his
perfect row of top teeth clamped onto it. The bristles of his beard shifted
just below his mouth. My breathing slowed as my attention zeroed in on his
actions, wondering what he tasted like. Wondering what it would feel like to
have him bite me with those teeth.
A bomb could’ve gone off in the room and I wouldn’t have
“I’m not adding weight to the bar, so you’ll have to use
your imagination.” He strutted over to the bench and straddled it before
lowering himself into position. As his eyes locked on mine, he lifted one side
of his mouth, and the entire room became stifling with the heat of my desire.
His thick fingers wrapped around the bar above him, and in
one swift movement, he lifted it out of the resting grooves. He slowly lowered
it to his chest, never taking his eyes off mine, and then raised it high above
his head. Even without weight disks, it was sexy as hell. I could’ve watched
him for hours, but my feet decided to take control and lead me to him. He
continued the motions of working out effortlessly while tracking my movement.
Without the wine at dinner, I probably would’ve given him a
compliment and then let him drive me home. But I did have wine. Three
glasses—maybe it was four. So nothing prevented me from straddling the bench
and climbing onto his lap. I sat there with my hands splayed across his tight
abs and stared into his deep forest orbs, not once questioning myself why I’d
done it. It had seemed like a good idea, so I went for it.
He dropped the bar back into the brackets, but he didn’t
pull his hands away.
“They say if a woman sits on a man while he works out, it
increases his testosterone, which leads to muscle growth and improves
strength.” The confidence in my tone would’ve surprised me had I been sober.
However, it seemed to have completely shocked him into silence while he
continued to lie there and watch me. “I figured I’d help you out with that…not
like you need more testosterone.”
One minute, his fingers were wrapped tightly around the
Olympic bar above him. The next, his hands were gripping my hips so hard my
bones ached. He tugged me forward a few inches until my pelvis lined up with
his. The harsh movement caused me to topple forward a bit, and I had to hold
myself up by his pecs to keep from completely falling into his hard body.
“If you want to measure the amount of testosterone in me…”
he gritted out through tight lips and clenched teeth. “…then sit right here and
feel my muscle grow.” It was obvious his control was in danger of slipping
The sweltering air around us constricted my windpipe and
left behind a sheen of perspiration on my chest. It polluted my lungs until my breaths
were strained and thick, clogged with lust and heady desire. Had there not been
a fire kindling between my legs, I might’ve felt the effects of his words
brighten my cheeks and scorch the edges of my ears.
Every muscle in my body froze—I couldn’t move. But I didn’t
need to, because he used his hold on me to do it himself. His fingertips dug
into the flaming ball of nerve endings at the cusp of my back, just before the
rise of my ass. He pressed his thumbs into the hollow spaces above my hips as
he slowly rocked me against him. Every push, every pull, added friction to my
clit through my jeans and had me growing wetter.
Between the sensations of my nerves misfiring and the
pressure building low in my abdomen, I dropped my head forward and released a rumbling
moan. My lips parted and a wave of pleasure masked in air escaped. I hadn’t
realized my eyelids had fallen closed until my posture changed without warning.
My hands gripped his shirt, but instead of leaning over him,
I now sat in an upright position with his face close to mine. Humid air
billowed against my cheek, turning my skin sticky and unbearably warm from his
strained breaths. My fingers found their way to his shoulders where I held on
for the ride he provided. No longer were his ministrations slow, but fast and
hard. He didn’t just rocket my hips against his, he pushed his hips upward to
add even more friction.
More power.
More pleasure.

About Leddy Harper

Leddy Harper had to use her imagination often as a child. She grew up the only girl in a house full of boys. At the age of fourteen, she decided to use that imagination and wrote her first book, and never stopped. 

She often calls writing her therapy, using it as a way to deal with issues through the eyes of her characters.


She is now a mother of three girls, leaving her husband as the only man in a house full of females. 


The decision to publish her first book was made as a way of showing her children to go after whatever it is they want to. Love what you do and do it well. Most importantly Leddy wanted to teach them what it means to overcome their fears.

Follow Leddy Harper


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