I’m not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland.
Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends.
So what is Chris “Fletch” Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he’s pattern matching a picture to find a real person he’s never met before?
Oh.
Oh, no.
The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.
That’s right.
Feisty.
Any choices available to her will ultimately lead to sacrifices. Fay must figure out what she is ready to sacrifice—her heart, her soul, or even…her life.
I answer with a kiss. A kiss I initiate. My glasses lift up as our faces meet and I reach up to pull them off, holding the stems in my hand as it lingers at his neck.
If a kiss can be perfect, this one is, crossing time and space to pull emotional tendrils together. I’m kissing him for seventeen years of confusion and craziness, for seventeen years of rejecting a piece of me that was just fine to begin with, for seventeen years of being defined by a fellow tween’s impulsive move.
He’s kissing me back for his own reasons, and whatever they are, they’re mighty fine, as his mouth takes mine and tells it stories that make my heart smile. Hands around my waist, he pulls me close, belly to belly, my coat still on but unzipped, the press of his flat torso and muscled terrain achingly tactile. My hands go up behind his neck, fingers brushing the ends of his short hair as his tongue uses a kind of energy I have never encountered before.
Breathless, we break apart, then come together again, the world spinning slowly without us, our bodies here but the rest of us, on every plane, lost in each other.
The cool air against my lips is the first sign that he’s pulled back. I open my eyes to find him so close, staring deeply, chest rising and falling as the scent of him mingles with the frankincense and rose oil I put on earlier today.
“So?” he asks.
“So… what?”
“Is that a yes?”
“You think that was a no?” One arm still around him, unable to let go, I cover my mouth with my hand, laughing.
“I think I need a clear yes, Fiona.”
On tiptoes, I kiss him lightly, then drop back, body pulsing.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
Lucifer is up to his old tricks, causing problems for the Forgotten Brotherhood. This time, he’s had a woman removed from the Norse afterlife and placed her right in the path of Bjorn Knutson. After the slaughter of his wife and family centuries ago, tortured and broken, Bjorn was cursed as the first Norse werewolf. Now he’s been tasked by Odin himself with killing the woman who escaped. Failure is not an option.
Before he can track her, he stumbles across a woman being accosted by three men in the middle of the night. Even though she’s human, he intervenes and is shocked to recognize the face of the one woman he could never kill — his wife Anja.
She’s also the one he’s hunting…and if he doesn’t kill her then both their lives are at stake.
He spun around and raced toward her with the other wolves hot on his heels.
Like some avenging Valkyrie, she stood with blood dripping from her fisted hand. A werewolf crouched on the sidewalk, blood pouring from one of his eyes and pure hatred radiating from the other.
“I’ll kill you, bitch,” the wounded male vowed.
Animal instinct took over. The threat to his mate must be eliminated. Bjorn ran straight at the wolf rising to his feet.
Before he could get there, Asher appeared seemingly out of nowhere, clamped his hands on the man’s shoulder, and shoved down. The werewolf might be bigger and broader, but he was no match for the powerful vampire. His knees slammed onto the pavement.
“What are you doing here?” Bjorn demanded. The man on the ground was his. His wolf howled inside him, furious at being denied his prey. Bloodlust ruled. His vision narrowed, becoming keener. Claws unleashed, fangs flashed.
“Thought you might need some help, and I was right. Aren’t you lucky I’m such a giver?” He inclined his head toward Bjorn’s claws. “You might want to put those things away before you hurt yourself.” When Bjorn didn’t comply, Asher sighed and lowered his voice. “Anja is watching.”
Nothing could have pulled him back from the brink of disaster faster. She stood by the open door of the truck, a knife clenched tight between her fingers. He recognized it as one he kept in the glove box. She found it and was prepared to stand and fight.
Her face was as pale as the first snow of winter. Her lips were pressed into a firm line of determination. She was breathing much too fast. Blood stained her hand, a reminder she’d protected herself from an attack.
Once again, he hadn’t been there, had let her down. Her hand trembled and the stench of fear permeating the air around her. Was she afraid of him now that she knew what he truly was?
“Bjorn?” Her voice quavered. Her uncertainty was apparent, but likely only to him.
It was more effective than a fist to the jaw to snap him back to reality. He willed his wolf into submission. With his hands on his hips, he sucked air into his lungs, driving back the fury that threatened to erupt.
But seeing blood on her, knowing she’d had to defend herself, had brought out the killer inside.
And now she knew.
He was no longer the man she’d married. He was a monster. One he’d created with his own arrogance. He was no different than the men hunting her. Actually, he was worse because he was the cause of it all.
If he was a better man, he’d leave her with Asher for protection while he figured out a way to deal with the threat facing them. His wolf growled, enraged that he’d even consider such a thing. Both man and beast were in agreement. For better or worse, she belonged with him. No one would do more to keep her safe.
The others hunting them approached with caution, their primal instinct finally kicking in, alerting them that there was more to Bjorn and the situation than they understood.
As much as he longed to tear them all limb from limb, fighting wasn’t the best or safest option. He’d have to try to reason with them. Yeah, that was likely to work. They were as stubborn as he was.
Once upon a time N.J. had the idea that she would like to quit her job at the bookstore, sell everything she owned, leave her hometown, and write romance novels in a place where no one knew her. And she did. Two years later, she went back to the bookstore and her hometown and settled in for another seven years.
One day she gave notice at her job on a Friday morning. On Sunday afternoon, she received a tentative acceptance for her first romance novel and life would never be the same.
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks–all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
Tatum Everley is a freshman at Western Michigan University. Due to an emotionally and psychologically abusive past relationship, Tate struggles from Complex-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She has been working on controlling her symptoms and flashbacks, but when she meets Axel Burne at a fraternity party, who is notorious for sleeping around and getting into fights, she tries her best to dodge the bullet. Axel starts to become intrigued by Tate, but she’s better off choosing Lucas— the sweet guy who has been trying to take her out since orientation. But even though Lucas is the better option, Axel keeps reappearing. Tate continues to try to stay away from him, but it starts becoming harder to, and as she gets closer to him, things start to get way out of hand. If Tate wants her happy ending and her sanity intact, then she has to push through the hardships and maintain control over her disorder.
I kept messing with my hair, moving it from one side to the other. I contemplated throwing it up into a messy bun or ponytail, but I was too indecisive to choose. I was tired and hungover, and by the look of my face and messy hair, it showed.
Axe studied me, lifting an eyebrow. “Stop it. You look fine.”
“Yeah, if you think circus clowns look fine.”
“Maybe I like circus clowns.”
“Says the one afraid of turtles.”
“Only the ones that bite you,” he smirked as he handed me a dixie cup filled with coins. “I’ll play you in skee-ball,” he said.
“You’re on.”
We treaded past a small group of kids, making me feel slightly out of place as we made our way over to skee-ball. I placed my cup of coins on the ledge, my eyes trailing up to meet Axe’s, which were already looking at me. He raised a brow, waiting for me to speak first.
“You first, princess,” I said, motioning to the machine.
He rubbed his chin as he chuckled, picking up a token and sliding it in to the coin slot.
I took a step back so that he had room to play, furrowing my brows as he missed his target, time and time again.
“You suck,” I said with my arms crossed.
He threw his last ball, before turning his curly-haired head to me. “Think you could do better?”
“Yes. One-hundred percent.”
“Alright, Miss. Know-It-All. Prove it then.”
“Step aside,” I said as I placed my small hand on his bicep and playfully pushed him out of the way, pretending that the bulge of his muscle didn’t faze me.
I rolled each ball carefully, trying my best to make it into the holes with the higher points, considering how shitty my aim was. But even with my bad aim, I still managed to beat Axe’s score.
I happily raised a brow at him, delighted by my own performance.
“Whatever. I let you win,” he said.
“You let me?” I stifled a laugh. “Yeah, right.” Axe smirked, amused by my reaction. “You want a rematch?” I offered.
“I’m good.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I bent down to pick up my cup of tokens, my heart pausing as Axe began to speak again.
“There’s something about you that I like,” he said.
I paused for a quick second before reminding myself not to let him or anything he said faze me. “Thanks,” I responded, trying to avoid eye-contact with him.
He shook his head, a perfect smirk still resting upon his face. “So damn stubborn.”
“I prefer to be stubborn.”
“I can tell.”
I shrugged, trying to end the conversation there. I didn’t know what to make of his comment. Was it a compliment? I couldn’t even tell.
“You know you don’t have to pretend be a bitch around me, right?” he asked.
“Maybe I’m not pretending.”
Axe tilted his head, refusing to believe my words. “Oh, c’mon. I see right through it.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I just know,” he softly said.
“You don’t know anything,” I shook my head, unable to hide the tiny grin upon my lips.
Trinity Lemm is from a small town in Illinois. After graduating from high school in 2019, she began attending Western Michigan University to study both business and dance, with plans of maintaining a writing career on the side. When she is not writing, she enjoys dancing, spending time with friends and family, and watching scary movies.
