A single moment of human brutality marks the difference between heaven and hell. It’s a rapid free fall from paradise and the drop is catastrophic.
Back then, we were just a couple of dirt poor teenagers who had nothing except for our friendship. I wanted it to be more and one night I made my move. Everything was perfect then, but perfection is fleeting. For one brief shining moment, everything was beautiful, but an inconceivable nightmare sent us straight to hell…to depths from which we could never return.
I left our hometown—a place she once called paradise—to flee the aftermath of that brutal event that broke us so completely. I left her behind to pick up the broken pieces of her soul that had shattered irreparably. And now, I’m going back to face the wreckage that I thought I’d put behind me—my father’s gruesome legacy, the trauma of our past, and the girl who survived it all without me by her side.
She hates me now for leaving her behind and I don’t blame her. I don’t blame her, but I want her. I want her, even though I know I should stay away from her.
I could be dangerous. I am my father’s son, after all. Content Warning: This book contains brief scenes of violence and is premised around a theme of trauma and healing.
“What did you wish for?” he asks, picking the candle from the cupcake and licking the frosting off the end.
I’m momentarily distracted by the way he sucks the end of it into his mouth. My heart skips a beat and butterflies flap their wings like crazy as my mind drifts. I shouldn’t be thinking about my best friend’s tongue licking frosting off things…and places.
I shake my head and take the cupcake from his hand, working to peel the wrapper off as I turn forward to look at the mountain sunset. “You know I can’t tell you that. Then it won’t come true.”
He moves to sit beside me, hip to hip, with our legs dangling over the edge. He sets the candle down on the dirt beside him and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up before shoving his hands into the pockets. I don’t know why he wears hoodies in the summer—it’s scorching hot until nightfall—but it’s kind of a signature look for him.
“But if you tell me what you wished for,” he says, “then I could make it come true.”
“Really?” I lick blue frosting off my finger before I set the cupcake wrapper beside me. “What if I wished for a million dollars?”
“Then I’d get it for you.”
“How?”
He chuckles. “I don’t know. But I’d figure it out if that’s what you wanted.”
I swallow hard though I haven’t even taken a bite of the cake yet. “You really have to stop being so nice to me.” I take a dramatically large bite of mostly frosting and say the next part with a full mouth and good humor. “You’re gonna spoil me.”
Andrés nudges his shoulder against mine. “You can’t spoil someone who’s already spoiled, brat.”
The way he calls me brat makes my spine tingle and I don’t know why. I’m glad the sun is falling behind the mountain line and darkness creeps in to hide my flushed cheeks.
“Did you make this?” I ask, glancing over at him to find him watching me, his eyes on my mouth as my tongue swipes frosting from my bottom lip.
His eyes lift to meet mine and he smiles. “I did. Are you impressed?”
“I am. You wanna bite?” I hold out the remaining half of the cupcake in offering.
His thick, dark eyebrows knit together as he looks at it. “Yeah. Sure.” He leans in and takes a bite from the side at a strange angle and his lips brush against the top of my finger.
It makes me flinch, but not in a bad way. It’s because of the way my stomach tightens at his touch. Touch isn’t foreign between us, it’s always been there—hugs and side jabs and the occasional playful wrestle. It’s just that things have felt different lately.
Brynn Ford is an independent author of romance in all of its beautiful and sensually taboo forms. She is a lover of the dark, twisted, and playful and strives to bring the unmentionable aspects of passionate romance into her stories.
Brynn resides in the Midwest with her husband and sons, whom she expects will someday be embarrassed by their mom’s books. When she isn’t obsessively writing, you may find her binge watching favorite shows while eating far too much junk food or fanatically reading, always seeking to lose herself in the emotional roller coaster of a damn good story.
She is quite the idealist, despite her fascination with the wicked and warped aspects of humanity. Some of her stories may run out of words before a happily ever after, but she’s a firm believer that her characters continue to live on outside the pages in the minds of her readers. Stories don’t end just because there aren’t anymore pages to turn.
Title: The Glass Slipper Author: K. Webster Genre: Contemporary Romance
Betraying the most powerful man in New York wasn’t something I ever envisioned when I first started playing games with Winston Constantine. But he’s engaged in far more dangerous games than ours, and his enemies are out for blood.
Winston has my heart, the Morellis have incriminating photos, and I’m left with nothing except three stepbrothers who want to hurt me and a future in doubt. I knew Winston wouldn’t be my prince charming, but that didn’t stop me from falling for him. After all, the slippers fit, and I let myself believe I’d be dancing with Winston forever. Until too much truth comes to light.
Until I realize instead of ruling the board, I was just a pawn.
In the end, I have only one question. When his game with me is over, will I be able to pretend as if the glass slipper wasn’t a perfect fit?
“Why? I’m not your boyfriend. What are you apologizing for?”
Anger flashes in her eyes. “I’m sorry for breaking what we had. But, damn, grow up and stop pouting.”
“Pouting.” I bark out a scornful laugh. “You’ve been scheming with a Morelli behind my back, Ash. It’s not pouting, it’s called being pissed off.”
“And hurt.” She bites down on her juicy bottom lip making me want to bite it too. “I hurt you.”
No.
Liar.
“Constantines don’t get hurt. We do the hurting.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“You believe in fairy tales, Cinderelliott, so your opinion is irrelevant.”
“I hurt you and I’m sorry for that. But I didn’t betray you. Yes, I kept things from you because Leo was terrifying and threatening me at every turn, but I didn’t sell you guys out.”
“I said I don’t care.”
“You do,” she argues. “You care about me and it makes you angry.”
“Are we done here?” I bark out. “I’m done discussing this. I don’t care. You’re my fucking employee. How many times do I have to say it?”
Her gaze hardens. “As many times as you need to in order to convince yourself. Meanwhile, I’m not buying the bullshit you’re selling.”
“I’m leaving.”
“And not get to pay me back?” She leans forward, toying with my tie. “That’s not your style. You’re Winston fucking Constantine. You always get what’s owed to you.”
“Hmm.”
“There’s my guy,” she murmurs, tugging on my tie to pull me closer.
“Not your guy.”
“Liar.”
Her lips brush against mine, soft and sweet. For a moment, I almost give in, kissing her pouty lips like I would have two days ago. In the last second, I bite her fat bottom lip. Her hazel eyes flare as she glowers at me.
“Asshole.”
“I think the headlines called me a monster. Or was it a predator? Sex fiend?”
“I’m pretty sure at least one writeup called you an asshole.”
“Your diary doesn’t count.”
I grab a handful of her hair that’s no longer in a sleek ponytail but now in a messy bun. She whimpers when I twist it in my fist. Slowly, I pull her head back, exposing her creamy neck to me.
“What can I do to make this better?” she murmurs, her body shuddering as I run my nose along a silky path on her neck to her jaw. “I want to fix us.”
“We’re not an us, therefore we were never broken, thus there is nothing to fix.” I bite her jawbone making her gasp.
“If I find a way to get Leo back, will that make it better?”
His name on her lips has a fierce growl rumbling through me. “Don’t you fucking dare speak to him. Ever again.
K Webster is a USA Today Bestselling author. Her titles have claimed many bestseller tags in numerous categories, are translated in multiple languages, and have been adapted into audiobooks. She lives in “Tornado Alley” with her husband, two children, and her baby dog named Blue. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking copious amounts of coffee, and researching aliens.
You can easily find K Webster on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads!
Can’t find a certain book? Maybe it’s too hot for Amazon! Don’t worry because titles like Bad Bad Bad, This is War, Baby, The Wild, and Hale can all be found for sale on K’s website in both ebook and paperback format.
If it weren’t for bad luck, Stephanie Combes would have no luck at all.
On top of stealing her identity and ruining her credit, Stephie’s ex-boyfriend has shamed her in the most unexpected way. As a card dealer, she’s determined to make a fresh start in Biloxi where the tips are better and she can climb out from under her shame and debt. Running into her long-lost stepbrother and his sexy-as-sin best friend wasn’t in the cards, but that was her bum-luck rearing its ugly head. The last thing she wants is another man in her life.
When it rains it pours, but lucky for Stephie, Har is there to save the day during the deluge. Staying with Har temporarily should be no problem, but they can’t deny their lust. The more Stephie distances herself, the more Har fights to keep her around. And he fights dirty.
Michael “Har” Walcott’s motorcycle club is in turmoil. As president of the Riot MC Biloxi chapter, he’s determined to get his club out of the drug trade, but his brothers are resistant. The last thing he needs is a woman dividing his focus from his brothers and his club… which is precisely when he meets a spunky and seemingly familiar brunette. She’s familiar because Stephanie was once a stepsister to Har’s best friend Brute. Allowing her to distract him isn’t an option. But after her roof collapses, Har steps in to save the day. The more he learns about Stephie, the more he wants her to stay.
He fights his attraction, but he can’t control his impulses.
He hasn’t felt anything like this for a woman in years. It’ll be a cold day in hell before he lets it slip through his fingers again.
Har’s hand rested on the light switch when a thought hit him. “You have contact info for Stephie?”
“Come again?”
“You heard me.”
“Got a phone number, but not sure if it’s still the one she uses. Why the fuck do you want it?”
Har met Brute’s irritated gaze. “Saw her bike before I went in the house, and obviously before I knew who she was. It’s a sweet ride with a sweeter paint job. I want to know who did it.”
“I’d rather know what it’ll take to get her off the damn thing. Not safe—”
“Don’t even, man. How many times did that argument work against you from your parents?”
Brute’s jaw clenched.
“She ain’t gonna be any different. Hell, she’s a woman, it’ll be even worse, you go tellin’ her she ain’t safe and shit.”
Brute shook his head. “You’re right. And you mentioned she’s living here now. I need to find out where. It’s been a long time since she’s been out here, as far as I know. Things are different.”
“Yeah. Be good you let her know about that, too.”
He and Brute had been friends since they were nine years old and he hadn’t forgotten how much Brute hated having two stepsisters when his dad remarried. Though, he never rubbed it in when Brute complained after they were gone. The love he had for Stephie and Susan snuck up on Brute. In Har’s experience, love did that more often than not. It snuck in at weird times.
The look on Brute’s face said he didn’t like Stephie being in town.
“And she lost her entire stack to you last night. What was that all about?”
Har arched a brow, but didn’t answer. And he wasn’t going to let Brute know that Stephie had signed over an entire paycheck to get in the game. That was what concerned Har. It wasn’t that she had no business at a poker table, it was that gambling with a paycheck indicated serious desperation.
What would drive a woman like Stephanie Combes to desperation?
Karen Renee is the award-winning author of the Riot MC series, the Beta series, and upcoming O-Town series. She has been writing since she was a teen, but has only recently brought her dream to life. Karen spent years working in the wonderful world of advertising, banking, and local television media research. She is a Jacksonville native, as well as a proud wife and mother. When she’s not at the soccer field or cooking, you can find her at her local library, the grocery store, in her car jamming out to some tunes, or hibernating while she writes and/or reads books.
