Solma is a fighter. Trained by her village Steward to protect their community from the predators of their harsh world, she is fierce and loyal. But how can she protect her friends and family from crop failure and starvation? With flying insects extinct for over a century, nowhere on the forsaken continent of Alphor is safe and Solma is terrified her little brother, Warren, will be one of the next to die. The villagers cling to life, waiting for the Earth Whisperers—mysterious nomads with a strange magic that helps plants grow—to arrive.
But then Warren finds something. Something impossible. When the first bee in a hundred years crawls out of the earth, Warren forms a strange bond with the creature and Solma fears he might have a new power. One that leaders of Alphor would kill for. As she and Warren fight to keep the bee secret and safe, word of this miracle sweeps the continent. Allies and enemies alike descend on the village. Some demand the bees for themselves, others want to destroy the colony to level the odds. When words become threats and then violence, Solma and Warren are caught in the conflict, and now it isn’t just the bees in danger.
When whoever controls the bees controls the world, how will Solma and Warren know who to trust?
The crowd parts and a visiting Steward strides to face Olive. It’s the woman with the silk scarf. She’s at least half a head taller than Olive and gets close enough so that she can look down at her, their noses inches apart. Solma bristles before she realizes what she’s doing and almost steps in, knife in hand, but someone grabs her arm. She glances down to see Cobra holding her wrist, eyes imploring. Solma scowls and wrenches her arm free, but it’s enough to stop her diving in and starting the scuffle anew.
The Steward grins down at Olive, teeth bared like a predator. “We’ll go home,” she murmurs. “When your pathetic little village gives us its bees.”
Olive cocks her pistol and presses it up under the Steward’s chin. There’s a gasp from the crowd and the Steward’s guards brandish their weapons again. Olive either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
“Don’t think I won’t,” Olive snarls. “’Cos I will.”
Solma believes her. She clutches her belly to quell the churning inside it. Could Olive really shoot an unarmed woman? Except …
There’s a flash of steel at the woman’s hip and Solma sees with a kick of her heart that the woman is not unarmed at all. The steel winks in the sinking sun. The Steward’s grin widens and Solma sees, as if the whole world has slowed down, Olive’s eyes widen in sudden realization.
Rebecca has been obsessed with two things since she learned to walk and talk: stories and animals. Luckily, the two seem to be very compatible. Rebecca writes stories set in strange worlds filled with bizarre creatures, strong female characters and magical powers. She started her writing career as a poet, performing all over the country and publishing her first collection, Octopus Medicine, with Two Rivers Press in 2017.
In addition to writing, Rebecca is also a teacher and, in 2018, decided that she wanted to write quality books for the young people she works with. Her books tend towards themes of respect for the environment, protecting the planet and the new generations challenging the old to face up to their mistakes.
She lives in Reading, UK, with her unusual family, which includes herself and her partner, a friendly little mini-lop rabbit (called Cleo) and a gregarious and feisty quaker parrot (called Maya).
There are few things I enjoy more than messing with Taylor Palmer. She’s such a priss with her tight, corporate skirts and her high heels. Someone’s got to bring her down to Earth.
She glares at me and parades her dates into my bar like she thinks it’ll bother me. She’s on the hunt for a husband, but she’s doing it all wrong. She’s never going to be into one of these nerds. She really wants a man like me, but I’m not on the market.
I can help her find a guy she can stomach. And if she decides to break her celibacy streak with me in the meantime, good for her…and me. But she better not get attached. She also needs to quit making me feel things I don’t understand.
Taylor
I’ll never forgive John Chapman for what he did to my best friend. I don’t care that she’s forgiven him, is close friends with him now, and even seems to be pushing me toward him. It’s because he and I are the last two single people in our friend group. All will be right in the world if he and I just connect. Forget it.
He fancies himself some kind of dating coach. He says he can find me the right guy. He certainly couldn’t do worse than I’ve been doing. I guess it won’t hurt to let him help.
The only problem is he won’t quit making his own moves on me, and they are working, impressively. I can’t fall for him. He’s made that crystal clear. But as we grow closer, I have to wonder if I’m chipping away at his cement walls, just a little bit.
Welcome to Destiny Dunes, where the only thing hotter than the Florida sun is the romance between this resort’s employees. Each book in this steamy series focuses on your favorite romance tropes. Once you enter the gates of Destiny Dunes, you’ll never want to leave!
“Are you watching this at all, or are you just eating my ice cream?” Chapman asks.
“I thought it was my ice cream.”
We both stick our spoons in at the same time and they clatter together. “Back off,” he says, tapping my spoon with his.
“I was in here first,” I say.
He gets a spoonful. “Fine, take it,” he says, putting it in my mouth. It happens so fast that I accept it without argument. He stares at me, and I can feel the moment moving into something more intimate. I search for a delay tactic while I figure out where I want this to go with him tonight.
I put my palm to my forehead. “Oh no, brain freeze,” I say through my mouthful of ice cream.
“Amateur,” he says, getting a bite. He watches me, and then wraps his arm around my head, covering my forehead with his giant hand. “I’ll warm you up.”
I slide my gaze over to him, unable to control my draw to him, and he gives me that mischievous look. I can feel him coming in for a kiss. His lips meet mine, and I’m about to sink in, when my senses slap me across my face. I pull away. “What are you doing?”
“I’m healing you from your brain freeze.”
“With your lips?”
“My kiss doesn’t make you hot?”
If he only knew. “I thought we weren’t allowed to kiss again.”
“We’ve already broken the seal. We can kiss all we want.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll try to slide a ring on your finger while you’re not looking?”
“We’ll be fine as long as you make sure you’re not falling for me.”
“What makes you think your kisses are so electric that I’m going to fall all over myself to be with you?”
“It might not even necessarily be just me. Let’s face it, you’re a modest girl. I doubt you sleep around very much. I doubt you even kiss guys often.”
I glare at him.
“Am I wrong?”
I don’t answer. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
“All these guys you’ve been going on these dates with, have you been kissing them good night?”
I remain silent.
He raises his eyebrows. “Taylor, come on. You have the worst poker face I’ve ever seen.”
“Why are you so interested in this?”
“Because I think you don’t kiss guys often. And I don’t want you to get the wrong idea that since we’ve kissed a couple of times now, that means we’re some kind of thing. Because we’re not anything.”
I take the ice cream and stand up. “You have made that so clear, especially when you kissed me just now. Crystal clear.” I walk to the kitchen and shove the carton in the freezer.
He follows me in there. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to get a little practice in.”
“You arrogant asshole. I’ve kissed plenty of guys.”
“Who’s the last one you kissed before me? Easton?”
I give him a rueful smile. “It eats you up that he and I lived together, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not buying that you weren’t with him.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not selling anything.”
He takes a step toward me, and I take one backward, finding my butt against the counter and my heart pounding.
“Admit you’re lying,” he says.
“Admit you’re jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
“I’m setting you up with other guys. If I were jealous, I wouldn’t be doing that.”
“Why are you doing that, by the way?”
“I’m scratching your back and you’re scratching mine.”
I shake my head at him.
“We could help each other out in other ways,” he says.
“Oh yeah?”
He runs his knuckle up my arm, sending a shimmer through my chest. “We could satisfy a certain need for each another.”
Melissa Chambers writes contemporary novels for young, new, and actual adults. A Nashville native, she spends her days working in the music industry and her nights tapping away at her keyboard. While she’s slightly obsessed with alt rock, she leaves the guitar playing to her husband and kid. She never misses a chance to play a tennis match, listen to an audiobook, or eat a bowl of ice cream. (Rocky road, please!) She has served as president for the Music City Romance Writers and is the author of the Love Along Hwy 30A series, the Before Forever series (YA), and Courting Carlyn (YA).
Title: Flare Author: Jay Hogan Series: Style Series #1 Genre: M/M Contemporary Romance
My own fashion label. The shiny new sign above the door means everything. My dream. My life. Worth every gruelling hour I’ve spent making it happen. Nothing can stop me now. Not the fear. Not the nightmares. Not my sad excuse for a love life. And certainly not Beckett Northcott, the sexy English professor who wouldn’t know a fitted shirt if it slapped him in the face and who has flannel down to an art form.
I don’t date for a very good reason, and yet Beck makes me want to break every damn one of my rules. But with my debut at Fashion Week looming, my business in trouble, and Beckett Northcott peeling open my terrified heart to a future I’ve never imagined, the threads of my carefully woven life are unravelling at the seams.
I could walk away. Or I could take a chance that Beck and I might just have what it takes to fashion a new life, together. A fresh design from a new cloth.
Shayne extolled the virtues of his lookbook in painful detail, careful to point out all the high-profile designers he’d modelled for. The message was clear. If I wanted Flare, my shiny new label, to succeed in its first appearance at Fashion Week, I needed him, front and centre. I didn’t even have an open call going. He’d just arrived on the doorstep of Flare and assumed I’d be interested, no, gagging to see him. I’d have choked on the sheer audacity if it wasn’t for the fact he had a point.
I did need something, but it certainly wasn’t his or anybody else’s bullshit.
My gaze flicked over his shoulder to where my shop assistant stood with his lips flattened against the glass, his tongue darting obscenely in and out. Kip made no bones about his gutter-dragging opinion of the excruciatingly beautiful but arrogant-as-fuck model, and I made a fair attempt at swallowing my laugh. But the resulting half snort almost blew the show.
Shayne spun in his seat, but you had to be quicker than that to catch Kip Grantham napping—his attention locked on his steamer as he pressed my new season feather-collared jackets fresh from my manufacturer. He gave Shayne a waggle of his fingers that got ten points for insolence but didn’t fool anyone.
Shayne turned back with his lip curled. Beauty never made up for a personality that verged on the nasty, which was only one of the reasons Shayne wouldn’t be gracing my runway anytime soon. The other reason being his tendency for drama with a capital D, and I prized composure as much as looks in the models I employed.
“All my slots are gone for this year, sorry,” I lied unapologetically, doing my best to ignore Kip thumbing his nose in the background.
“That’s not what I heard,” Shayne said tartly.
Bugger.
“I can wear anything well, and you know it.”
Which was unfortunately true, but beside the point. “I’m sure you’ll have a ton of designers clamouring to add you to their list once they know you’re back. I’ve already chosen the one pinch-hitter model I’m allowed from outside the casting call. You missed that day, right?” I couldn’t resist the dig.
He sniffed. “I was overseas. Miami. Stockholm.” He waved a hand in the air. “The casting agency contacted my agent, of course, but it couldn’t be helped.”
Behind Shayne, Kip gave an epic eye-roll that would’ve given the London Eye a run for its money.
Shayne studied his fingernails. “And yes, I’ve had a lot of requests since I returned. But I like your work, Rhys. It’s a little raw, but there’s a freshness to it—”
I imagined strangling the man by his Hermes scarf, knowing Kip would help me hide the body.
“—and since this is your debut year, I thought I’d give you first shot at me. I can help make that splash you need.”
Again, unfortunately true. But Jesus fucking Christ, he’d never speak like that to a seasoned designer. It was all I could do not to boot the arsehole from my office, but New Zealand fashion was a tiny industry, and the last thing I wanted was to earn a name for myself as a prima donna in my first year.
“I’m flattered you thought of me.” I almost choked on the words as Kip mimed hanging himself with his tie while walking downhill. “But not this time.” Read ever.
Shayne stared, bewildered, like I’d lost my ever-loving mind, and maybe I had. Then he shrugged. “Well, I hope you don’t come to regret your decision.” He shoved his lookbook in his fashionable Burberry satchel with an audible huff. “Young-gun invites only happen once, right?”
“Right.” I nodded sagely, wondering if it would be considered a service to humanity to throttle dickhead sanctimonious pricks on a Friday afternoon before they were let loose on an unsuspecting weekend. If it wasn’t, I was going to petition for a law change. “I guess I’ll have to rely on my actual designs, won’t I?”
He sent me a look that said he knew there was an insult in there somewhere, but I wasn’t worth the effort to search for it.
“I should be getting back to work.” I pushed to my feet and circled around the desk, making it clear the meeting was over.
Shayne gathered his coat and satchel and then stood. “I, um, ended things with Marc, in case you were wondering.”
I wasn’t and looked puzzled just to piss him off. “Marc?” I knew damn well who he was talking about.
He narrowed his gaze. “Marc Norman.”
“Oh. Shame.” I felt oddly relieved for Marc, who was in fact a lovely guy, if a bit . . . vacant.
Shayne ran his gaze slowly up my body and I suddenly needed a shower. “Maybe you and I could do . . . something?”
Not in a million years. “Thanks, but I’m too busy to date right now.”
He shot me a sly grin. “It wouldn’t have to be a date.”
And yeah, I might’ve thrown up in my mouth. “The answer’s still no.” I plastered a grin in place. “Sorry.”
A spark of annoyance flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t push.
“Let me walk you out.” I ushered Shayne past Kip, who discreetly stabbed a finger in and out of his mouth, and then out the front door of Flare and into the crisp June air laced with salt from the harbour beyond. As soon as the coast was clear, I spun back to my assistant, my mouth open in a silent scream. Kip raced to my side, and together we watched Shayne cross the road and disappear from view in a cloud of Yves St Laurent and pissy flounce.
“Oh. My. God. That man is a douchebag of the highest order.” Kip slipped his arm through mine and pulled me toward the service desk. “He’s always dropping into the shop looking for you. I put him off as often as I can, but he does actually spend money, so I don’t want to piss him off too much. I don’t know why he’s so fucking popular.”
I snorted a laugh. “You mean apart from his scorching angular waifish look and ability to have both men and women drooling over their credit cards as they rush to buy whatever the fuck he wears?”
Kip huffed. “People will follow any idiot off a cliff if they look like they know what they’re doing. Your clothes stand on their own, Rhys. They don’t need a pretty clothes horse.”
I shot him a look and he pulled a face. “Okay, maybe one or two pretty clothes horses wouldn’t go amiss.
Jay is a 2020 Lambda Literary Award Finalist in Gay Romance and her book Off Balance was the 2021 New Zealand Romance Book of the Year.
She is a New Zealand author writing mm romance and romantic suspense, primarily set in New Zealand. She writes character driven romances with lots of humour, a good dose of reality and a splash of angst. She’s travelled extensively, lived in many countries, and in a past life she was a critical care nurse, nurse educator and counsellor. Jay is owned by a huge Maine Coon cat and a gorgeous Cocker Spaniel
