When you’ve lost everything – revenge is all that’s left…
After securing the convictions of two violent murderers for a horrific and brutal attack on a pensioner in his own home, Henry’s wife, Abi should be celebrating.
With the nation watching, it was her biggest test as a criminal lawyer.
But someone’s not happy.
First, there’s the hooded stranger who follows her home in the dead of night.
Then comes the attack on her car and a death threat in an anonymous hand-delivered letter.
Someone’s trying to scare them.
Someone wants revenge.
And they’ll stop at nothing until they’ve brought the couple to their knees – and exacted a deadly retribution…
Nothing Left To Lose is an electrifying psychological thriller from the No. 1 bestselling author of his Wife’s Sister.
It’s gone half nine and a niggle of worry rumbles in my gut. A vision of Abi on a hospital trolley flashes through my mind. I shove it away. I’m being silly. Worrying unnecessarily. I’m sure she’s fine.
I snatch up my phone and hit the redial button, willing her to answer, hoping for a slurred apology and the sound of music thumping in the background. At least I would know she was safe.
I listen to a long hiss-filled silence, the blood gushing through my ears.
A click.
Her voice.
And for a split second, I dare to believe I’m through.
‘Abi?’
‘You’ve reached Abigail Pilkington-Hutton. I can’t take your call right now but leave a message.’
I slump in my chair and pinch the bridge of my nose as I ring off, my heart beating a little faster and a little harder. A kaleidoscope of images of my wife’s body dumped by the side of the road, bleeding, lifeless, her eyes staring blankly, spiral through my head.
Stop it.
I refuse to be that husband. She’s perfectly capable of looking after herself. She’s not a child. And yet, I can’t help but worry.
Of course, the lasagne’s ruined. A fiery blast stings my face as I flip open the oven door. I step back to let the curls of steam rush towards the ceiling and peer inside despondently at the charred remains. Shavings of Parmesan cheese are blackened beyond salvation and crusty tracks of meat sauce have bubbled up and hardened over the sides of the ceramic dish. It’s as good as cremated, even though I turned the heat down hours ago.
I slam the door shut. Wasting good food irks me, especially when I’ve put effort into cooking. It’s not as if it’s one of those vile cardboard-tasting ready meals, straight out of a packet. It’s an authentic Italian recipe from a dusty old cookbook I picked up in a secondhand bookstore in town. I used a pinch of rosemary and cubes of pan-fried pancetta for the ragu and a sprinkling of nutmeg in the bechamel sauce. A surprise treat to celebrate the end of Abi’s trial.
I’ve lost count of the number of evenings and weekends she’s given up working on the case. The missed bedtime stories with the girls. The hours going through witness statements “one more time”. After everything she’s sacrificed over the last couple of months, I thought tonight we could spend some time together. But she’s not come home and her phone’s off.
AJ Wills is the number one Kindle bestselling author of multiple psychological thrillers.
He was a journalist for 20 years and also ran the communications department at a national charity in the UK.
He has been writing full time since March 2021 and runs the small independent publishing company, Cherry Tree Publishing, with his wife, AJ McDine, a fellow thriller author.
“I’ve always loved thrillers, but psychological thrillers hold a special interest for me because they’re about the scary, insane, disturbing things that happen to ordinary people – and we can all relate to them on some level,” he said.
He lives in Kent in the UK with wife, Amanda, their two teenage sons and two cats.
You can find out more about him by visiting his website: ajwillsauthor.com
From the day I became the President of the Ruthless Sinners, I’d been known as one of the fiercest, most relentless MC presidents in the south.
I lead my men with honor and pride.
I never once wavered from what I believed was right for the club and for the brotherhood.
And even when it wasn’t easy—even when it meant putting their needs above my own—I’d always done everything in my power to keep the brothers and their families safe.
These were the demands of an MC president.
I was good with that. I had dedicated my life to the club and the club alone.
It was the only way I could face losing the only woman I’d ever loved.
But as fate would have it, I’d been given a second chance with her.
There was only one problem.
Another woman had caught me under her spell.
Two incredible women.
One impossible choice.Viper will have you rooting for forgiveness, mended hearts, and second chances. Viper’s Demands is a standalone MC romance with no cliffhanger and no cheating. These sexy bikers are foul-mouthed, possessive alphas who will do whatever it takes to protect the women they love. Enjoy the ride!
Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Seller, L. Wilder, writes about hot, alpha men and the women who love them. She currently has six series available for readers: The Devil Chaser’s MC, Satan’s Fury MC, Satan’s Fury MC-Memphis, the Redemption Series, the Happy Endings Collection, and the Ruthless Sinners MC. If you’re looking for a book that will keep you on the edge of your seat and have you smiling like a school girl at the end, L. Wilder is the author for you.
Meet Gemma Jacobs. She’s driven, energetic, and a positive thinker. She has a great career working for famed self-help guru Ian Fortune, she lives in a cute studio apartment in Manhattan, and her family is supportive and loving (albeit a little kooky). Her life is perfect. Absolutely wonderful.
Except for one tiny little thing.
After a decade of disastrous relationships and an infertility diagnosis, Gemma doesn’t want a Mr. Right (or even a Mr. Right Now), she just wants a baby.
And all she needs is an egg, some sperm, and IVF.
So Gemma makes a New Year’s resolution: have a baby.
Josh Lewenthal is a laid back, relaxed, find-the-humor-in-life kind of guy. The polar opposite of Gemma. He’s also her brother’s best friend. For the past twenty years Josh has attended every Jacobs’ family birthday, holiday, and event – he’s always around.
Gemma knows him. He’s nice (enough), he’s funny (-ish), he’s healthy (she thinks) and he didn’t burn any ants with a magnifying glass as a kid. Which, in Gemma’s mind, makes him the perfect option for a sperm donor.
So Gemma wants to make a deal. An unemotional, business-like arrangement. No commitments, just a baby.
It’s like he has some sort of super-psychic power that lets him know when a woman needs him. I think about him stealing my undies all those years ago and I realize that yes, he probably does have a secret power. Some sort of man radar—mandar.
We haven’t really spoken in years, except for the casual greeting at the New Year’s party or a “hi, how are you” at a random friends and family get together. Yet here he is, right when I need him.
I step into my bedroom and shut the door. Josh is spread out on my pink lace coverlet, his arms behind his head, and his legs crossed—the picture of relaxation. He’s in his standard outfit, faded jeans and a tight T-shirt depicting some obscure graphic novel character. His black hair needs a trim and he has at least two days’ worth of dark stubble on his face.
Even though I’m indifferent to him as a person and I know for a fact he’s not my type, my lady parts still clench. He’s that good looking.
He smirks at me, like he knows the effect he’s having. Here’s the thing about Josh, he’s completely unable to take life seriously. It’s like the whole universe is a funny joke to him, and he’s just living his life so he can be amused.
When he graduated from high school he was voted the most likely to succeed. He was captain of the football team, the basketball team, homecoming king and the valedictorian. Everyone thought he was going places. Especially me.
After he graduated from college he took a job at a tech start-up, worked his way up the ranks to VP, and then according to my brother, he just woke up one day and decided to quit. He walked into the office, took a box out of the supply closet, packed up his desk, and walked out. Ever since then he’s been doing his web comic thing. But I guess if he’s living with his dad again, it’s not going all that well.
I look him over. The thing is, I’m not sussing him out as a prospective husband, I don’t care about his career goals, how big his paycheck is, or whether he lives in his dad’s basement. I don’t care about his potential or non-potential as a life mate. I’m thinking about his genetics. And his genetics are just fine.
I close the door with a sharp snick.
“What are you doing on my bed?” I ask.
His eyes, always full of sharp intelligence, take in my sauce-covered dress and the blush still lingering on my cheeks.
“What are you doing covered in barbecue?” A small smile flits over his lips and his forehead wrinkles as he takes in my appearance.
My outfit from earlier is folded in a neat pile and sitting on my dresser. Josh starts to stand up.
“Stay there. I need to talk to you.”
I decide that rather than risk him leaving while I change, I’ll talk to him covered in sauce.
“Alright.” He scoots over and pats my bed.
I give him a look and he shrugs. “Sorry. I was up all night finishing a storyboard. Whenever I stayed the night with Dylan, your mom would always give me your bed to sleep in. I didn’t think, it just seemed natural to…”
He trails off when he sees the expression on my face. I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that Josh has apparently been sleeping in my childhood bedroom for years.
I look at my dresser and realize that my teenage diary is in the top drawer hidden under my underwear. My skin prickles with, yup, that’s embarrassment. I look at the dresser then at Josh, but he doesn’t seem any different than usual. Maybe he’s not a snooper. Probably, yes, probably he never read it. Because if he had…errr…my teenage self was not shy about fantasizing about him.
I settle onto the mattress next to him.
He clears his throat and scoots over. “So what’s up?”
Oh God.
Am I really going to do this?
Can I do this?
It seemed perfectly reasonable and normal when I was planning it out after my doctor’s appointment. I looked more into donor sperm and weighed the benefits and detriments of donor versus Josh. Every way I looked at it, Josh came out on top.
He gives me a funny look. “Gemma? What’s up? You alright?”
“I need your sperm,” I blurt out.
Josh starts to choke, then he coughs. His face turns red and he hits his chest.
Oh no. I’ve killed him.
He coughs and his eyes water.
I slap his back and he shakes his head.
Maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that, but I was nervous and I didn’t think.
Finally, he takes a wheezing breath and says, “Come again?”
“I…I need your sperm?”
I smile at him. The look he gives me makes my hand fly to my mouth in an effort to contain the laugh bubbling up from my chest. Oh jeez, I’ve lost my brain. I should’ve written talking points or a speech or something.
“You want to have sex?” Josh asks. He looks really confused. “Gemma. You really have to work on your pick-up lines.”
I shake my head. But he’s already starting to lift his shirt up. I catch a glimpse of rock-hard abs. “If you want to, we can. But we’ll have to hurry. The New Year’s Resolution reading is soon. We have maybe ten minutes. Not that I can’t blow your mind in ten minutes.”
I scoot back and make a strangled sound.
He takes in my expression and starts to snicker.
“Kidding. Gemma, I’m kidding,” he says, and he drops his shirt.
I nod and blow out a long, mind-clearing breath. “Sorry, I didn’t say that right. What I meant to say was, ummm, we’ve known each other a long time.”
“Twenty-four years,” he agrees.
“Right. We grew up in the same town. Went to the same school. You’re my brother’s best friend. You come to our holiday parties, birthdays. You’re always around.”
I scrutinize his face to see if he gets where I’m going. Unfortunately, he just looks confused.
“I feel like I know you pretty well. I can say that you’re a decent guy.”
He frowns. “Thanks.”
“If I ask you something, do you promise not to tell Dylan, or anybody?”
Josh leans back and studies me. “Gem, I don’t think we should have sex.”
I close my eyes. “No. No, jeez. Obviously. Ugh, did it once, got the T-shirt.”
I open one eye and look at him, then I open the other. He grins at me. “The T-shirt huh?”
Author Sarah Ready writes contemporary romance and romantic comedy. Her books have been described as “euphoric”, “heartwarming” and “laugh out loud”. Her debut novel The Fall in Love Checklist was hailed as “the unicorn read of 2020”. She loves to write fast-paced, emotionally compelling romances about quirky, smart women and the men who love them.
Before writing romance full-time Sarah had lots of fun teaching at an Ivy League. Then she realized she could have even more fun writing romance. Her favorite things after writing are adventuring and travel. You’ll frequently find her using her degree at a dino dig site, crawling into a cave, snorkeling, or on horseback riding through the jungle – all fodder for her next book. She’s lived in Scotland, Norway, Portugal, Switzerland and NYC. She currently lives in the Caribbean with her water-obsessed pup and her awesome family.
