As survivors of not only a plane crash, but two other impossible tragedies, we’d more than earned a life of peace. But time and time again, we were shown that fate had no intention of giving that to us.
Remi and I were soulmates. Plain and simple. Our love should have died in the depths of our darkness, but the sun still exists even when it’s not shining.
The secrets of our past threatened to destroy us at every turn, but for Remi, I would never stop fighting for our future.
The world took everything from us.
And we would stop at nothing until we took it all back—forever.
Her blue eyes sparkled in the glow of the airplane reading light. “It really is.”
I shook my head and went back to mindlessly flipping the pages of a magazine I’d bought at the terminal back in Colorado. I’d picked it up with hopes it would be a distraction from the cyclone raging within me on our way back to Atlanta. The minute she ordered that drink, I’d known it was a lost cause.
Her hand came across the armrest and landed on my thigh. “Bowen, stop. It’s not a big deal.”
It was the truth. Compared to everything we’d been through, our house could have been swallowed by a sinkhole and it wouldn’t have been considered a big deal.
Honest to God, I was lucky to still have her at all. It had only been nine months since we’d met, but we’d lived a thousand lives in that time. Unfortunately, that also meant we’d died almost as many deaths.
Terrifying, tortuous, agony-filled deaths.
We’d also found love though—immeasurable amounts of it.
I stared down at her engagement ring. I’d cashed out a huge chunk of my savings account and still had to open a line of credit with the jewelry store to buy the three-karat princess-cut ring. The payment was roughly the same as I paid for my truck each month, but the tears in her eyes as she’d sat in her hospital bed, clutching it to her chest the day I proposed, made it all worth it.
She was worth it. Every day, every tear, every worry-filled minute shaved off my life.
I’d do it all again.
If only I weren’t so helpless to save her. I loved that woman. Whole heart. Whole soul. Bend me, break me, crack me open and she would have been there. No matter how bad it got, she was always a part of me.
I wasn’t sure anymore if she could say the same.
“Bowen,” she whispered, just as she’d done so many times before. It was a plea. One she knew I’d answer no matter the situation. No matter how mad I got. No matter how much I feared losing her again.
My gaze instinctively lifted to hers.
She smiled and the sight caused an ache in my chest. It was a lie.
God, I missed her smile.
“Baby, I’m okay.” She tilted her head to her drink. “I hate flying. That’s all this is.”
That was a lie too.
My shoulders fell and a loud breath tore from my burning lungs, but I let myself pretend, my mind going back to a time when it could have been the truth.
I thought of the nights we’d shared multiple bottles of wine and made love, laughing and moaning under the covers until the sun crept across the horizon. She’d rested peacefully in my arms. No nightmares. No crying in her sleep. No insomnia. Just even breaths, her head on my shoulder, and her body wound around mine so tightly it was like a second skin.
But that was the past.
The unreachable, insurmountable past.
The plane jerked, forcing me back to the present.
“Shit.” She moved her hand off my thigh to grasp her drink as it sloshed all over her. “Crap, crap, crap,” she chanted, using a cocktail napkin to dry the dark-red pool of tomato juice on her white pants.
For a moment, I sat there and watched her struggle. It wasn’t the most chivalrous thing to do, but I was all out of grand gestures.
She unbuckled her seat belt and lurched to her feet, her phone along with a handful of ice cubes from her lap falling to the floor. “Damn, this is going to leave a huge stain.”
The plane jerked again and she stumbled forward, crashing into the seat in front of her before I could catch her arm.
“Dammit, sit down before you get hurt.”
Ignoring me, she bent over to fish her phone from under the seat. “Hit the button for the flight attendant. I need some club soda and a lemon. STAT.”
“No, what you need is to sit down.”
I gave her arm a tug and dragged her down to the seat. Using the tip of my boot, I swept her phone toward her. Aforementioned lack of chivalry aside, I was no contortionist; leaning over to pick it up was out of the question.
She folded her upper body over my lap and blindly patted around the floor. I fought the urge to run my fingers through the back of her hair. In the beginning, it would have been a no-brainer. I’d have curled forward and suggestively whispered in her ear, “Since you’re already down there…”
She would have grinned up at me, her whole face filled with mischief as she traced a finger over my zipper, ignoring anyone who dared to watch her as she replied, “You mean down here?”
I’d have grabbed her hand and made her stop even though I was the one who had started it. She had no filter. She always took it one step too far. I’d loved that about her when we’d first met. It was fresh and exciting, a far cry from the stuffy women I’d dated in the past.
But now, she was in the past too. We were in the past.
Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her four hilarious children.
Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys movies that can surprise her with a twist, charcuterie boards, and her mildly neurotic golden retriever. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.
She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine by her side.
A coming of age love story about a bad influence, sweet vengeance, and a whole lot of heart.
Millie
My father – the Earl of Amhearst – intends to marry me off to a man I can neither love nor tolerate. He invites potential suitors to the Marriage Games, a series of tasks to complete before one is declared the winner. The prize? Me. Trapped by circumstances, my only way out of this farce sees me walking into tattoo parlours and sex clubs, looking for a suitably tattooed man that my prejudiced father will hate on sight. Except, while the man I find will undoubtedly rile my father’s blood, forcing him to rethink his humiliating plans, the heavily inked, handsome bad boy I set my sights on makes my blood hot for entirely different reasons. He’s all I want in the entire world. Too bad he’s only my fake boyfriend.
Mal
Being propositioned by a gorgeous young woman wearing the shortest dress known to mankind was the last thing I expected tonight. But whatever the terms, I’m game. Enrage her up-tight father? Done. Be her pretend lover? Try and stop me. Wear a tux and attend a lavish party for the country’s elite? I’m there. A few days after I agree to her plea for help I find out who she really is – Lady Amelia Harrington-Scott, heiress to the indecently wealthy seat of Amhearst. But Millie doesn’t know that I met her father – a long time ago. That he tainted the only good thing I ever had in my life. That he embodies everything I hate about the peerage. He’s my enemy, which makes her my enemy, too. But I didn’t know our story would be so much more than revenge, Millie right at the heart of it. And I am blown away.
This is the second book in the Rags to Riches series. Although this is a standalone book, I strongly recommend that you read Marrying the Heiress first to avoid any spoilers and get maximum reader enjoyment. The characters featured in MTH will feature again here, their storyline extended within Loving the Bad Boy.
Mature content. Please refer to the foreword or Look Inside feature.
The visual of the man leaving the room hits me instantly, like a visceral call from every single tiny piece of me. I can only watch, my heart in my throat as the man exits, running a hand through his dark hair. He looks thoroughly worn out, like he’s had a good time in that private room, and it fills me with livid, hot jealousy.
Wearing dark grey jeans and black biker boots, a black T-shirt is balled up in his fist that showcases his heavily-inked torso. And it’s magnificent, leanly strong with dense, intriguing tattoos covering just about every inch of it. I’m too far away to distinguish many, but one dominates his back: an angel. The broad black wings are spread wide, the feathers edging over the curve of his biceps. He has full-length sleeves too, but because his head is slightly bowed, all I can see is a neat beard on a cut jawline. Chestnut-brown hair flops onto his forehead even when he stabs a hand through it again, his arm muscles rippling with the movement.
He is absolutely breathtaking.
My feet move before I have a chance to think it through, desperate to follow the gorgeous man who’s already disappearing towards the front door. He’s dragging the T-shirt back on his body, and even in the relative dark of the main room I can see his back muscles work, gleaming in some light from the TV screen. He has the physique of someone who works with their body on a daily basis. Who uses their strength to hone muscle and tighten abs. Who could show a woman a fucking good time.
I want to know what lucky bitch got to be with him, working up a delicious sweat. I want to torture myself with that image, wishing it were me. Because I don’t just want to proposition this man to help me out. To enrage my father and make him rethink his plans.
I want him. I want him so badly that my heart hurts.
Autumn Miller lives in Norfolk, England. She studied French and German at university in London, and ended up in marketing. As part of her degree she lived in Karlsruhe, Germany for a year, where she travelled extensively.
When she’s not writing, she’ll be engrossed in a book, catching up with friends in the pub, or cleaning up after a husband, three children and a dog. Failing that, she’ll be dreaming up meet-cutes, gorgeous men and sassy dialogue.
Title: Death Wish Author: K. Webster Genre: Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance
All I wanted is for my little sister Della to be safe and happy. And maybe, in brief stolen moments, I dreamed of a happy ending for myself with a brown-eyed man. That hope has turned into sharp, bright fear. There’s only survival now.
I’m the daughter of a controlling and cruel billionaire, so I understand about power. But I find myself fighting anyway. I find myself testing them.
I have claws and I bite. I’m not going down without a fight.
Scout turns slightly from his skillet and smirks at me.
“Landry ran away from her prison tower and I gave her a place to run to.” My blood boils at his stupid answer.
“I thought I was meeting Ty. How did you manage this anyway?”
“Ty’s my new bestie,” Scout says with a shrug and goes back to cooking. I glower at his back.
“That’s not an answer. Was Ty in on this? Did he betray me, too?”
“Your sweet little Constantine was clueless,” Scout replies with a dark chuckle. “He doesn’t even know he’s been played.”
“You said last night that I was part of a job. What job?”
Sully approaches, palms up as though if he makes one wrong move, I might bite. I might. He better walk carefully. Wisely, he stops a couple feet away from me.
“We do jobs for our uncle,” Sully explains. “It’s stupid, but he gave us a place in his family when our mother went to prison.”
“I thought she died,” I choke out. “You guys led me to believe she died.”
“She may as well be dead. Winston Constantine made it so she’ll never leave that hellhole,” Sparrow growls.
“Why is she in prison?” I shake my head. “Forget it. I don’t care. I want to know howI tie into your fucked-up games and why I’m here.”
Sully sighs, taking another step toward me. I narrow my eyes, warning him from getting any closer. “There’s this ongoing war between the Morellis and the Constantines.”
If I would have just googled Ford Mann, I might have eventually discovered the truth. I was too afraid of Dad finding what I’d search out, and when I had the opportunity, I was more concerned with finding an escape from my father, not researching my boyfriend.
Boyfriend?
Dumb girl. You were played by three evil twats.
“The Morellis hate the Constantines. We, specifically, hate the Constantines. So, when our uncle asked us to meddle in your dad’s life, since Winston Constantine was planning to do some business with him, we jumped at the chance.”
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.
