Meet the Warlocks of the Black Oak: a powerful order of modern-day sorcerers fighting evil to protect the ones they love. Three urban fantasy romance now together in this second installment in the Order of the Black Oak – Collection
“Bourque develops a world of mages and sorceresses unlike any other.“ — Night Owl Reviews
Book 4: AN ARCHMAGE’S DESTINY: A Slow-Burn Urban Fantasy Romance: A steadfast attorney must convince a daredevil modern archmage to return to the folds of his powerful warlocks family or apply the devastating consequences herself.
Book 5: A SPELLBINDER’S DENIAL: A Slow-Burn Urban Fantasy Romance: A savvy banshee teams up with a guilt-ridden billionaire warlock in order to protect her adopted baby girl from cursed vampires after the child’s blood.
Book 6: A NECROMANCER’S LOVE: A Slow-Burn Urban Fantasy Romance: A life-loving blogger seeks the help of a lethal Seattle necromancer in order to locate her missing teenaged brother.
★★★★★ Fantastic series of action, magic and awesome romance. You will fall in love with the characters and feel you are right with them.
Bryce Jackson slid her damp palms on the wool fabric of her pantsuit and hoisted herself from her stool in the Singing Kraken Tavern.
Pushing her drink away with resolve, she eyed himagain.
That’s it. No more waiting.
She was here to do one job. Better get it done fast.
For half an hour already, she’d been observing him while aimlessly twirling the straw in the lowball glass of her diet soda. Not once did she break her focus.
She had watched him order his beer. Then, she’d studied his reflection in the faded mirror behind the bar while he exchanged casual banter with the bartender serving him.
He had flirted with at least three women dropping on him. First, she saw the whisper in the blonde’s ear. The girl, a tall beauty covered in swirling tattoos, had laughed before kissing him on the mouth.
Minutes after, he’d swapped phone numbers with a gorgeous black woman in regal yellow silk. Then, there was the small purple-haired girl, who had playfully tousled the dark curls from his forehead, before jumping to straddle his lap as he’d let his fingers trail lazily on her naked thigh.
Without question, he was hot.
The bar was full of millennials. Seattle hipsters with beards, expensive tattoos, upscale hiking garbs, glittery dresses matched with combat boots, and the occasional 12th man football paraphernalia.
Despite the variety bordering on outrageous, he managed to stand out from the crowd.
Not at all trendy but bad boy classic.
Basic jeans, black-t-shirt, and motorcycle leather jacket. The hair, which he raked back a few times, a little too long. Lips curled with both amusement and lust at the gaggle of women crowding him.
Marie-Claude Bourque is a Seattle-based author of gothic paranormal romance and the winner of the American Title V award with her first novel ANCIENT WHISPERS.
Her writing features modern-day fantasy skillfully weaved into infinitely romantic supernatural stories between smart strong women and complex passionate heroes.
Warlord Wulf thought nothing could be worse than being tortured and contaminated by the Hive. That was before he’s ordered to transport to Earth and represent The Colony in an unfamiliar horror… a human reality show. The Bachelor Beast is the hottest new program on Earth, but being set up with two dozen clingy females is not his idea of a good time. When his Beast refuses to show the slightest interest in any of the show’s potential mates, he knows he must choose one or die due to his raging mating fever.
His Beast prefers execution to claiming anyone but his true mate. Wulf is resigned to his fate, a one-way trip to Atlan, a prison cell and execution. It is the only honorable thing left to do.
Until one glance, one sweet, feminine scent lingering in the air and his beast rages for a female who is not supposed to be his.
But try telling that to his Beast when his entire body transforms on live television and one simple word thunders from his lips…MINE.
This couldn’t be what I thought it was. This huge, gorgeous alien man was not talking about me. No freaking way.
I took a step backward.
Wulf’s roar made people scream.
I didn’t scream. I couldn’t breathe.
Chet had his dramatic voice back under control. “Ladies and gentlemen, what we are seeing is unprecedented in the history of live television. It appears that the alien, Warlord Wulf, has decided to choose a member of our audience as his mate.”
Wulf spun around and faced Chet. The man turned pale under his thick stage makeup. When Wulf loomed over him, Chet gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Wulf grabbed the microphone out of Chet’s hand and squeezed, crumpling the metal as if it were tinfoil, then dropped it to the orange carpet.
Wulf turned around, ignored Chet entirely and made his way in my direction again.
“Turn the cameras!” the producer hissed.
The one nearest me swung about, and I was about to jump out of the way of its path when Wulf stopped it with his palm. The cameraman retreated to safety, and with one push Wulf toppled the huge machine onto its side. The crash reverberated through the set, but all I heard was a second, “Mine,” coming from Wulf’s lips. The producer screamed at the other cameras to get the shot as Wulf stopped directly before me and… sniffed.
I looked up. Way up. My head was tilted so far back my chin was facing him more than my eyes. My mouth hung open.
“Um… hi.”
“Mate.”
“Uh… no. No, no. No,” I stuttered.
“Mine.”
Taking another deep breath, he growled. Men with handheld cameras surrounded us, absorbing in everything. What was I wearing? God, I had on my white T-shirt with the word sassy in sequins across my chest. It was almost laundry day, and I wore a skirt I’d found in the back of my closet. My hair was up in a sloppy bun, and while I did makeup for a living, I wore none. Holy crap, I was on live TV around the world.
I couldn’t think of that now. An Atlan warlord was looming over me, breathing hard and saying mine.
“Genevieve or Willow are lovely choices for a mate. You should pick one of them,” I said, my voice shaky.
“No. You. Mate.”
My eyes widened and I stared. You could have heard a pin drop on the set… and Wulf’s ragged breathing. “Me?”
Grace Goodwin is a USA Today and international bestselling author of Sci-Fi and Paranormal romance with nearly one million books sold. Grace’s titles are available worldwide in multiple languages in ebook, print and audio formats. Two best friends, one left-brained, the other right-brained, make up the award-winning writing duo that is Grace Goodwin. They are both mothers, escape room enthusiasts, avid readers and intrepid defenders of their preferred beverages. (There may or may not be an ongoing tea vs. coffee war occurring during their daily communications.) Grace loves to hear from readers.
He’s savage. He’s sinful. He’s everything I told myself I didn’t need.
But for just one night, I’ll give in to temptation. I’ll forget he’s a shapeshifter and that I’m not. I’ll forget the Pack would never approve.
Because after tonight I’m moving. Our paths won’t cross again. Only that one night gives me more than I bargain for and nine months later I deliver a bundle of joy complete with ten tiny fingers and ten perfect toes.
A year and a half later, I’m back. But this wolf is no longer the shifter of my dreams. Now he haunts my nightmares. And what is he going to think when he learns he has a son, one who isn’t a just a wolf?
“You shouldn’t have given me your innocence,” he says, a fierce glint in his eyes. “I’m going to ruin you for any man who comes after me.”
I bite my lower lip. Thank God I’m leaving tomorrow. This boy could easily become an addiction. This moment, these feelings, it’s more than I imagined. More than I ever anticipated. And a hell of a lot more than I’m ready for. But to hell with it.
“Do your worst,” I tell him. His eyes flash with silver, his beast drawn front and center. “Burn for me, mariposa. Burn.
Danielle Annett is a snarky AF Latinx Author. Born and raised in sunny California, she now makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and their three tiny terrors. She hates cheese—of all kinds—and yes that means she orders cheeseless pizza. She loves to talk (a lot) and is probably as extroverted as they come so feel free to shoot her a message, send a raven, throw up smoke signals. Whatever it may be. She love’s chatting with readers so feel free to stalk her.
