He despises her… almost as much as his beast craves her.
Kyra’s seen and survived the worst things imaginable, all because of the magic she was born with. Trapped by her secret, she has no choice but to serve Councilman Gallagher or risk everything she has tried so hard to build. Because despite black magic being banned, her very survival depends on it.
When she’s commanded to summon a Daemon, a Breed notorious for their corruption and brutality, she’s torn between keeping her secret and doing the right thing.
Xander’s hate for black witches was notorious, but nothing frustrated him more than the one witch that brings trouble with a capital T. With dark amber eyes, and a controlled strength that fascinated his beast – the monster he’s cursed to share a soul – Xander will do anything to push her away.
So when he’s forced into protecting her, he must put aside his prejudice and ignore his growing desire that’s an insult to his past.
Because he’s had an entire childhood to remember why you can’t trust black witches.
How did she get herself into that position? In the home of a man that hated her, a man she struggled to stay away from. He had always been clear about his feelings, yet she felt pulled by an invisible magnetism every time she saw him.
Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment, she thought to herself before she looked up at the mirror, the dark bags beneath her eyes heavy. The cut on her lip looked as well as it could, only slightly bruised with little to no swelling.
Frederick wanted her to be the perfect subordinate, not questioning his decisions as he used her for his dubious spellcasting. If she stayed she was confident she would become a shell of herself. But if she ran she risked worse.
Kyra let out a settled breath, lifting her skirt to check the cut though her black opaque tights. The fabric stuck to both the old and new blood, the tights intact apart from the ladder across her knee. The cut beneath looked nasty, wider than she remembered.
“Take off your skirt.”
Kyra jumped, having not heard Xander re-enter the bathroom. He wore a pair of jeans, the button undone to show the deep V of his hips.
No underwear, she thought. Great.
“You’re bleeding, so take off your skirt,” Xander repeated, opening the medical tin. When she remained exactly where she was he growled. “You want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”
“Excuse me?” she snapped.
Xander leaned forward. “You can either willingly take off your skirt, or I’ll rip it off. Your choice, Princess.”
Kyra glowered, but exhaustion beat heavily against her. “You’re an arsehole.”
“So I’ve been told,” he drawled. “But at least I don’t pretend to be anyone I’m not.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means stop arguing and take the fucking skirt off so I can treat your leg.”
Taylor Aston White loves to explore mythology and European faerie tales to create her own, modern magic world. She collects crystals, house plants and dark lipstick, and has two young children who like to ‘help’ with her writing by slamming their hands across the keyboard.
After working several uncreative jobs and one super creative one, she decided to become a full-time author and now spends the majority of her time between her children and writing the weird and wonderful stories that pop into her head.
Title: Chase Her Author: Kelly Finley Series: Come for Me #3 Genre: Romantic Suspense
Famous. Imposing. Mysterious. Daniel Pierce hides so much behind his A-list celebrity fame. Has that secret and that fame cost him the love of his life? The most incredible woman he’d ever met?
A force to be reckoned with, Charlie Ravenel was never supposed to fall in love with him—the one man she shouldn’t. While she followed no man’s rules, he convinced her to follow her heart. And him. Together they found a life of such promise, such passion… but also grave threats.
Did he commit the worst sin? Doubting her strength, her mission and her darkest fear? He loves her so much, he will chase that answer to the very end. Because their love was destined; a fierce desire they couldn’t resist.
And now the consequence, the collision of every force. A perfect storm. Of secrets revealed. Of pasts returned. Of the question everyone dares to ask…
Does love survive… even past our last breath?
CHASE HER, Book Three in the COME FOR ME series is a thrilling, steamy, romantic suspense novel that takes you to the very edge.
*This book is not for the fainthearted. This deep romance explores the dark theme of stalking.
He scooped her into his embrace on the gym floor. “I’d ask you what’s wrong”—he wrapped his hand over her sweaty belly—“but I know.”
With every week of her possessed workouts, the swell had disappeared to her strong abs showing back through. But Daniel knew—this wasn’t about weight or vanity. Not his wife. She had none.
This was about the shooter.
For two months, Daniel had watched her. How, if she wasn’t smiling at the twins, she was lost in thought. What was she plotting? It concerned him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t believe her. “I know what’s driving you, but you’ve got to pace yourself. If you don’t, you’ll tear something, and then we’re fucked. The last place we want to be now is in hospital, not with this virus out there.”
The baby monitor he set on the bench cried out. He glanced at it. Caroline stirred. Of course she was awake again.
“I’ll get her.” She pecked his cheek. “You get your workout in.” She stood up from his arms.
“Fran’s got them.” He grabbed her hand gently. “Stay with me, just for a minute.”
He stood up, watching the monitor while he nestled her against his chest. Fran appeared on the screen in front of the cot, softly shushing Caroline back to sleep.
Thank God for that sweet woman. Fran gave them the breaks they needed. Charlie had protested at hiring a nanny, but he searched anyway and she was glad he did.
He called Fran for a phone interview from the hospital. She was perfect, from London, ending a job in Nashville with celebrity musicians whose teens no longer needed her. She had the experience and fifty-two years of wisdom.
Once Daniel explained to Fran the situation, fully disclosing the risk, she didn’t hesitate. She met them at the dock in Bluffton for the trip out to Daufuskie Island and hadn’t left since.
“See.” He nodded toward the monitor. “She’s got them.”
Charlie’s body relaxed against his, and a need, a tension started stirring within.
She had welcomed his hugs, his kisses, but that was all. He tried a few times after the six weeks they were told to wait. Fuck, he was desperate for her. But each time, Charlie gently removed his hand from between her thighs. Now, he didn’t even try, digging deep for patience instead. It was hard.
His cock didn’t receive the patient message, tenting his thin black gym shorts with a stiffy.
“I feel you, Sex God,” she murmured against his chest.
His hand pressed down to the small of her bare back. “I feel you too, Sex Goddess.” Her workout clothes always turned him on. Hell, she could wear a Hessian sack and make him horny as hell.
“I’m not ready yet.”
“Your patient husband knows that, but his lonely cock doesn’t.”
“Should I leave you here for a workout and to rub one off?”
“Only if you watch me… and you do the same.”
“You little shit.” She pulled back with a sly smile. “You tryin’ to tempt me?”
“I’ve got to. I know you’re not ready, babe, but I’m going to break my dick off wanking without you.” He meant it. It had been months, a lonely hell.
She sighed, eyes half-rolling. “I’m not trying to starve you. I know we can now, but I don’t feel like myself.” Pulling her body away. “I don’t know how ‘mom’, ‘wife’ and ‘Charlie’ come together now. It’s fucking weird. It’s like I’m out of my body and need to get back in it, but I don’t recognize it. And now… I’ve got this.”
Her gesture took his gaze, only turning him on more. Staring down at the pussy he missed, knowing its hidden beauty, he didn’t give a damn about a Cesarean scar, even though he hadn’t seen it yet.
“Good God, babe, you’re even more beautiful to me now.” His hand smoothed over her hourglass waist. “All I do is admire you and want you but you’ve been hiding from me for months.”
His finger lifted her chin, asking her eyes to meet his. “Let me at least hold you, in the shower, in our bed, with nothing on.” He kissed her lips, aware how his new beard tickled them, dusting over their sexy slope, confessing, “I miss us.”
They needed this. It was their connection, their love. The instant they met, the urge for the other was so powerful it overwhelmed their senses. The greatest desire thrilled his flesh from the moment he touched Charlie.
And he’d almost lost her.
He needed to cherish every inch of her, lavishing her with tender touches, fucking her so hard. He had no choice; he had to show her how much he loved her and would until his dying day.
“Even if we tried that, just being naked,” she said. “I won’t be able to relax. I don’t think I’ll have an orgasm again in this house, not with the twins and Fran down the hall.”
“Fran’s not uptight. Have you heard her talk? She’s an old-school feminist. I assure you when her wife can travel here from London, we will hear them down the hall.”
“Okay, fine. But what about the twins? Between Caroline, who never sleeps, and Duke, who demands my attention when he’s awake, I don’t get a second to relax unless I’m in the gym.” Her hand caressed his hard bicep. “It’s not fair between men and women. Your cock is a hot light switch, but my vag is a cold oven, it’s gotta warm up, and it can’t with all this baby stuff going on.”
That amused him. And challenged him. “Give me a chance, babe.” His lips climbed up her neck while he murmured, “You always switch my cock on, and you know I can melt you into the wettest heat you’ve ever dripped.”
He took gentle bites before she snapped her neck closed. “Fuck, your beard tickles.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Nuzzling into her, he made her squeal, squirming from his snatching embrace—a futile effort. He wouldn’t let her go.
“Quit it.” Her eyes twinkled. “Or I’ll tie you down and shave that thing off.”
He ceased the tickle, but not his smile. Fuck’s sake, he loved her like this. Laughing. Playful. Warming up to him, he could tell, her nipples pebbled under her sports bra.
His dirty mind devised a plan; his hard cock signed off on it. “I’m getting us an afternoon, alone, in the house for a few hours. We’ll just shower and cuddle, I promise.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“Those two cherubs have grandparents on this island ten minutes away. Pop and Evelyn would jump at the chance to have them for a few hours. And Fran could visit with them or take the time to herself.”
“I feel like shitty parents sending our babies away for an afternoon so we can fuck.”
“Yes! Are we finally going to fuck?” That was all he heard. Not the “shitty parent” part, because that, he didn’t buy.
“I’m serious, Daniel. How does that look? We send our kids away so we can have an afternoon of sex?”
“Since when does my fit wife give two shits for what people think?” He gripped her hand. “I’m serious, Charlie. We’ve been through enough. If we don’t stay connected and strong as a couple, we are no good to them as Mum and Dad.”
“Quit trying to make that stick, Pierce.” She tongued her teeth, smiling. “I’m not gonna be ‘Mum’ and you’re not gonna be ‘Dad.’ More like ‘Mama’ and ‘Daddy’ in these parts.”
“You’re off your trolley. Fran and I will see to it that they have proper English accents.”
He teased her, relishing how it pissed her off, adoring when she fired back…
“Bless your heart, Pierce, and count heads. You’re outnumbered.” She wiggled against his cock. It was begging for her. “I’ve got you beat.”
Yes, she does, Pierce. Grinding on you. That’s your wife.
“So, it’s a plan then, Mrs. Pierce?” He seized her firm bum, pulling her harder against his raging hard-on, wanting to take her now.
“That’s not my name.”
Deploying the grin that inspired millions of thirsty posts, “It is when I’m fucking you,” he knew it wet her pussy too.
That naughty truth flashed across her eyes. The last time they made love, months before, he made her moan that name while rousing her with slow thrusts from behind.
“All right, Mr. Ravenel. Give my body a few more weeks to heal before you come at me with all this hard hotness. Then we’ll see if you get lucky.”
Breaking from his embrace, she delivered a swat to his arse before swishing out of the room. Minutes later, she appeared on the monitor with Duke, kissing his forehead before lying him down to change his nappy. He watched the spectacle, a smile taking his entire being. Gawd blimey, I love her.
Kelly Finley is fiction author of contemporary romances featuring bada** women and grown-a** men. She lives in the Carolinas with her husband and family. A rebel with many causes, she fancies black leather, dirty jokes, and smart mouths.
Thrilled by a flipped script and ticked off by women portrayed as weak, she noticed how many steamy, sexy heroines were missing, particularly from suspense and military romance. Her friends shared the frustration and told her to practice what she has taught for twenty years. Her books feature characters we champion and love—ones with shameless heat, brave hearts, and whip-smart minds.
She’s most likely at her keyboard right now, putting the next heroine on the page.
Football player Sloan ‘Willow’ Williams has been looking for The One for years. He’s checked all the right places—and some of the wrong ones—and found sh*t all. But the moment he sees Eden Jade Cartwright, he knows she’s the girl for him.
Unfortunately, her entourage won’t let him anywhere near her…
Eden doesn’t want anything, aside from an international music career. She does, however, enjoy being worshipped, which the giant redhead seems inclined to do. But with a world tour beckoning, now isn’t the time for a boyfriend…
Willow has the perfect solution; a short, fake relationship that will boost Eden’s clout and scratch both their itches. Only he’s hoping the beautiful blonde will keep him around. And Eden’s praying she’ll be able to let him go…
First and Forever is a standalone romance by the critically acclaimed author Eve Dangerfield.
There was nothing inside but a wide wooden staircase. Putting a hand on the bannister, she climbed. Classical string music was playing softly from somewhere, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. She paused at the top of the stairs. There was another, albeit polished, wooden door and fixed to it was a plaque.
Dr Sloan Williams
Physician
The Royal College of Physicians, Edinburgh
Eden peered at the plaque. It looked real. She touched it. It was real. It was a wooden plaque with Willow’s name written on it in gold, saying he was a doctor. He wasn’t a doctor, was he? No, that was stupid. But surely, he hadn’t gotten it made just for—
Inside the room, a chair scraped. Eden’s heart jolted.
Stop thinking about the plaque and go inside.
With a shaking fist, she knocked on the door. There was a pause.
“Miss Cartwright?”
Heavy footsteps on the floorboards, then the door swung open to reveal Willow. He wore a white coat and suspenders, and his red hair was neatly combed back.
“Hi, I mean… hello, Doctor.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Cartwright.”
She hadn’t misheard. He was speaking with a soft, Scottish brogue, and as he looked her up and down, there wasn’t any recognition in his eyes. He might have been seeing her for the first time.
Eden’s face burned. “My, um, father sent me to see you?”
“Of course. Come inside.”
He gestured behind him to a wood-panelled room. Eden entered, her heart thumping. The space looked like a dance hall with dusty floorboards and wide windows. In the middle of the room stood what looked like a supermarket massage chair, covered by a sheet. In the corner she saw a wooden desk, scattered with paper and adorned with a vase of daffodils.
“Sit in the chair,” he directed.
Eden moved toward the centre of the room. As she sat, Willow—Doctor Williams—studied her with faint interest. His gaze lingered on her breasts and he glanced away, his fingers knotting together. Eden saw a fat gold wedding band on his left hand and her stomach contracted. Was he married?
Her face heated as she realised she was being stupid. Of course, he wasn’t married. His character was. The thought, along with how good he looked in the white coat, had her fighting back a smile. It was game on.
“Would you like a glass of water, Miss Cartwright?”
God, that accent. It made Eden want to call off this charade and pull his face between her legs. She tried some showmanship of her own. Clearing her throat, she adopted her mother’s cut-glass English accent. “No, thank you.”
A faint smile creased Willow’s lips. “Very well. Try to relax. This isn’t an interrogation. I’m here to take care of you.”
Eden’s mouth went dry. She wished she’d accepted the glass of water.
The doctor paced the floorboards, hands behind his back. “Your father tells me you’re having trouble at home.”
“I… I suppose so.”
“What kind of trouble, Miss Cartwright?”
Again, Eden tried not to smile. In real Victorian times, her sister Sienna would be ‘Miss Cartwright.’ She’d be ‘Miss Eden’ until Sienna got married—
Don’t think about that.
She leaned back in what she was now positive was a massage chair. “I don’t know, Doctor. I find it hard to concentrate. I sleep lightly and I’m distracted all the time.”
Willow strode to the edge of his desk and sat on the corner. His coat opened to reveal a fitted shirt, tight enough that Eden could see his pecs.
“Are you lightheaded?” he asked.
“Occasionally.”
“Moody?”
Eden didn’t answer. Yes. Her father thought she was moody. Everyone in her family had thought she was moody because she had more than one mood. Cheerfulness, fake or otherwise, was the only acceptable emotion in the Cartwright house.
“Lass?” Doctor Williams’ voice was edged with impatience. God, this motherfucker could act.
“I suppose I am moody,” she offered.
“Do you cry often?”
Eden hadn’t cried for years, but that probably wasn’t in keeping with her character. “Almost every night.”
He nodded curtly. “Your father is also concerned that you aren’t expressing any interest in young men who are coming to visit you.”
He said it straight-faced, without so much as a gleam in his eyes, but Eden’s cheeks burned with the understanding she and Willow were really, actually playing doctor.
“I-I don’t know how I’m supposed to be around men,” she told him.
“A lot of women just enjoy being looked at.”
Eden gazed out of the nearby window, ignoring the modern buildings, the airplane she could see passing over the city.
Eve Dangerfield has loved romance novels ever since she first swiped her grandmother’s paperbacks. Now she writes her own stories about complicated women and gorgeous-but-slightly-tortured men. Her work has been described as ‘genre-defying,’ ‘insanely hot’ and ‘the defibrillator contemporary romance needs right now’…and not just by herself or those who might need bone marrow…OTHER PEOPLE! She lives in Melbourne with her boy and a bunch of semi-dead plants. She can generally be found making a mess.
