Nina Charming, captivating, and seductive, And a cold-blooded killer. But I married the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva anyway. I had to; it was part of the deal.
Now, I’m faking marital bliss, As I tremble with fear, And I cannot wait to be out of the clutches of this ruthless man.
Roman I get anything I desire. And I want this perfectly imperfect little manipulator.
The way she can deceive anyone into believing she’s crazy in love with me, Just makes me want her even more.
She doesn’t know it yet, But I am not letting her go. The deal – is off.
I stare at him with my mouth wide open. “Dear God, Dad.”
I bend down and place my forehead on my knees, trying to control my breathing. I’m not marriage material, no one in their right mind would offer three million dollars in exchange for six months of marriage. There must be a catch.
“He’s ninety, isn’t he?” I mumble into my knees.
“I don’t know how old their Pakhan is, but I don’t think he’s ninety.”
“Eighty then. I’m so relieved.” I’m going to be sick.
“They said it’ll be a marriage in name only. You won’t have to . . . you know.”
“Sleep with him? Well, if he’s eighty, then he probably can’t have sex. That’s good. Eighty is good.”
Neva Altaj writes steamy contemporary mafia romance about damaged antiheroes and strong heroines who fall for them. She has a soft spot for crazy jealous, possessive alphas who are willing to burn the world to the ground for their woman.
Her stories are full of heat and unexpected turns, and a happily-ever-after is guaranteed every time.
The Soulstealer’s greatest power is that no one believes it exists…
…except Steven Carpenter. One of the last remaining members of the Ordo Solis—a thousand-year-old order sworn to kill the ancient demon—even his faith has begun to wane. But when he witnesses the return of the Soulstealer with his own eyes, belief quickly turns to grim reality.
With the souls of the world at stake, Steven knows what he has to do—expose the Soulstealer. There’s just one problem, it knows it’s been discovered … and so do the nefarious cults sworn to the demon’s cause. In a race against time and evil, Steven will have to find help. But will it be enough? Or will they be too late?
Author Shane Boulware ramps up the action in his hair-raising second entry in the Soulstealer series. Burning the boundaries between urban fantasy and suspense thriller, this grim-dark stomach-churner will leave you as breathless as the characters trapped within its pages.
Steven paced his cell. He had heard of Unas’ brutality, but this brought things to a whole new level. Were these really made from our Ordo Europe brothers and sisters? His body shuddered.
The Soulstealer came and took Raeleigh, Mia, and someone from Ordo Europe that the Unas captured. They were to help with some damnable Ordo Solis peace treaty. Steven felt confident the bad blood between the two sides would prove too tricky for common ground to be found. Someone would make the wrong move.
The thought produced as much fear as it did satisfaction. Raeleigh was at that meeting. He prayed she stayed out of the crossfire should things go south. The Unas cleared out as well. One thug guarded his cell, a few Unas walked the tunnels.
If ever he should devise a plan to escape, he couldn’t pick a better time. His current confinement, however, wouldn’t give him an inch to work with. No one would claim Steven to be a small man, but he made minimal impact trying to shake loose, kick open, or shoulder bash the structure. No way out.
Occasionally, some wannabe masked barbarian trotted past. One passed by when a sharp shout came from Steven’s right. His guard and the patrolling Unas turned around. They made to bring their weapons up but were riddled with bullet holes; red spattered in every direction. One fell against the wall, the other face-first into the sandy floor.
Steven blinked at their newly minted corpses. He snapped into action, rattling the bone bars and pressing his face against them to peer down the tunnel, but couldn’t see more than ten feet. He heard hushed whispers before three figures appeared. They each wore long-sleeved bodysuits and balaclavas. The first pointed its weapon at Steven; the other two switched back and forth between Steven and further down the hallway. Their twitchy movements made Steven wonder if they had ever held a weapon before.
More masks, always more masks.
“Uh, hi,” one said, looking Steven’s prison up and down.
Steven blinked, then waved. “Who’re you guys?”
“Doesn’t matter who we are, chap, who are you?”
These guys didn’t know I was here. “I’m Steven. Proud Ordo Solis, American branch.”
The men glanced at one another, then back at Steven. “We heard you were bagged,” one said.
“We don’t have time for this,” another hissed.
“And you propose to leave this chap here? He’s obviously not Unas,” the second man replied.
“There’re two Solis Americans left,” Steven said. “I’m one, and the other, Raeleigh, is currently being held by the Soulstealer as some sort of liaison for the meeting with Solis Europe.”
“J, we have to finish clearing this section before they come back,” the first man said.
Steven motioned down the hallway. “No problem, please feel free to take ‘em all out. But make sure you come back. I’d rather not continue to be a prisoner.” He pointed at the long scratch marks on his face. “Not sure how much longer they’ll restrain themselves.”
“Good idea. Alright. Let’s go,” the second man said. They hurried away.
Those buffoons have got to be Solis Europe. Steven pumped his fist. “Yessssss!”
He paced the length of his cell. At last, he heard heavy footsteps coming toward him. The gaggle of colored balaclavas found Steven smirking as they came to a stop in front of him.
“Here he is,” one of them gestured toward Steven.
A slender figure stepped forward and peered through the bone bars. “You’re Ordo Solis?” a woman’s voice demanded.
Steven winked. “Wouldn’t dream of being otherwise.”
“Who vas the first of our Order?” she questioned in a thick German accent.
“Jedidiah, the wisest of us all,” Steven recited. He imagined the many afternoons he and Jeff spent as Ordo Solis initiates in frigid New England. Their mentor made them memorize whole paragraphs of information to pass their oral examinations.
“And who is ze Lionheart?” she asked.
Steven clenched his fists, shaking them. “We’re all the Lionheart!”
The woman looked at the bolted lock. “Destroy zese doors, break him out.” Two of the men broke the bones from the rebar and pried a few of them apart. Steven wasted no time stepping through to freedom.
Shane Boulware is an unconventional idealist from Orlando, Florida. Naturally, he commissioned as a Contracting Officer in the United States Air Force in 2012, where he promptly got tased, was hit with pepper spray, participated in a mock riot, jumped out of an airplane, and lived in a combat zone. These experiences tempered his creative instinct and led him to publish two music albums, found an innovation company, break a Guinness World Record, and learn over sixteen dance styles.
Having grown up a huge fan of Dune, Star Wars, Stargate SG-1, Warhammer 40K, Harry Potter, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and The Lord of the Rings, Shane always wanted to create and share a world of his own. His imagination set him on a path to write the supernatural thriller, Soulstealer, and its sequel, The Ordo Solis.
When he’s not negotiating contracts or salsa dancing the night away, you can find Shane taking his creative passion out on an unsuspecting keyboard. If you want to know when his next book will be available, visit his website at ShaneBoulware.com, where you can sign up to receive release updates and join a community of savants, swashbucklers, and nerds.
My head lifts quickly as I meet her gaze. There is a look of pity masking her smile. She can pity me. It’s understandable. If I were in her shoes I’d pity the person I am right now. I chance a look at the clock and see that I still have a few more minutes. Maybe she feels how broken I am and needs time to regroup or find someone else to fix me.
“Okay,” I say hesitantly. I’m not sure I want to go through this again with another doctor, and definitely not a military one.
The doc folds the page of her notepad over and slides it into her desk. She smiles softly. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Ryley this morning. My schedule has been cleared this week so I can help get things resolved, or heading toward a resolution. My plan is to see you and Ryley together in the next couple of days to discuss what methods need to be implemented for both of you. My concern is EJ. You need to be able to bond with him and she understands that.”
She stands, coming over to me. “My suggestion, and I didn’t tell this to Ryley, is for you to spend some time with her. She’s hurting, Evan. While you thought everything was fine, aside from the fact that you were gone for so long, she buried you and tried to move on with her life. She’s making neither heads nor tails of what’s happening right now, but give her time without letting her slip through the cracks.”
My body sighs as I stand, as if it knows I don’t have to sit in that chair anymore. My feet shuffle toward the door, leaving the doc leaning up against her desk. “Thank you,” I say before opening the door and leaving the room.
The sun is bright and penetrating when I step out of the office. I have to shield my eyes quickly before I walk out into traffic. Once my eyes adjust, I look across the street to the park hoping to see Ryley sitting over there. If she were, it’d be so much easier to talk to her right now, although the thought of bringing her to base makes more sense to me since she wouldn’t be able to run away from me. Somehow, however, I don’t think Ryley wants to be anywhere near the base – not that I can blame her. At this point, I don’t want to be there either, except it’s the only choice I have since I’m not really welcome in my own home.
With only one other destination in mind, I text the guys and ask them to meet me. We need to figure out what’s going on. Each of our situations is different, yet we’re all experiencing the same thing. I also need to bite the bullet and call my mother. I’m not sure why I haven’t yet. I guess I’ve been waiting to see if our unearthly return would make the news, but so far nothing has been reported. Every time I learn another factoid about this deployment, I’m more convinced that it was not legit.
Pulling in front of Magoo’s, it would be easy to go drown my sorrows in beer, but I need to keep a level head about the situation. If I ask the wrong person a question, who knows what could happen? As is, someone high up has taken away my life. It doesn’t matter that I’m standing here today or not. I’m not the same person and someone needs to pay.
It’s a happy relief to walk in and be surrounded by friends. The bar stools are full of patrons, men I’ve served with in the past. Tables are thrown together to make bigger spaces and the same chairs are still here. An American flag hangs on the wall with various pictures surrounding it. All these pictures have been given or sent to Rick, the owner, for display. I refuse to look at the wall that holds all our past SEALs. I know the four of us are up there or maybe Rick has taken them down. Either way, I’m not looking, at least not today.
I’ve spent many hours trying to figure out what happened and answering all the questions I could. It’s very unsettling to know that people thought you were dead.
Heidi McLaughlin is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of The Beaumont Series, The Boys of Summer, and The Archers.
Originally, from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband, two daughters, and their three dogs.
In 2012, Heidi turned her passion for reading into a full-fledged literary career, writing over twenty novels, including the acclaimed Forever My Girl.
Heidi’s first novel, Forever My Girl, has been adapted into a motion picture with LD Entertainment and Roadside Attractions, starring Alex Roe and Jessica Rothe, and opened in theaters on January 19, 2018, and is now available on DVD & Digital.
Title: TEMPEST Author: Ketley Allison Genre: Dark Contemporary Romance
I shouldn’t want her. I shouldn’t crave her.
She’s not safe — especially not from me.
I know the trouble that comes with people running from the shadows. I know the danger of getting involved with those who deal in secrets. I make those problems go away.
Hitman. Fixer. Whatever.
The biggest mistake I made was choosing to keep my little sister and her best friend, Ardyn Kaine, safe after their friend was murdered.
Ardyn is quiet, soft, and fragile. She spends her evenings studying in her dorm’s common room at the historic Titan Falls University — near where they once burned witches. They say the walls of TFU can talk, but I don’t believe in things I can’t see.
All the blood is on my hands, but Ardyn is the only thing that keeps me up at night.
She might hate me.
But I hate her more for the lies I have to tell.
One thing I know for certain — Ardyn isn’t safe from me.
I’m used to operating in Mila’s shadow. Come to think of it, Clover’s, too. But there’s something about this guy that makes his dismissal hard to swallow. Probably because I don’t even get that much from him. I’m less than a ghost, not even requiring the close inspection of a mite on his bedspread. Since I was nine, I’ve been trained to be invisible. I was able to accept it until I met him. A gorgeous, witty, charismatic boy who made friends with everybody and had every single girl he came across becoming stupid for him. Including me. I was obsessed with watching him, amazed at his easy confidence and a little light-headed every time he unleashed a smile. Never at me, since I was usually hiding somewhere in the shadows stalking him, but always nearby.
And I hate myself for it.
A black car rolls up to the curb, anything but covert. Due to Barry’s love of cars, I’m able to immediately tag this one as a Lyken Hypersport. Rare, only 7 in the world, and of course this dude owns one of them.
The tinted passenger window rolls down, taking my bedraggled reflection with it.
In its place is a silhouette who melts out of the luxury interior’s shadows, his angles cutting through the dark as seamlessly as sharpened weapons.
I gulp.
Yes, for nine years I was able to accept being invisible. Until I met Tempest Callahan.
Author of Romantic Suspense, New Adult and mature Young Adult novels.
Ketley Allison has always been a romantic at heart. That passion ignited when she realized she could put those dreams into words and her soul into characters. Ketley was born in Canada, moved to Australia when she was thirteen, to California when she was twenty, and finally to New York to attend law school, but most of that time was spent sitting in coffee shops and wine bars thinking of her next book. Her other passions include coffee, wine, Big Macs, her cat, and her husband, possibly in that order
Uraya is desperate to live in peace. Having finally escaped the queen of the south, her goal is to vanish, to leave the war in the Twin Realms and start a new life.
But to get her freedom she must work with the most intolerable dragonlord across the Realms.
Known for reducing women into simpering worshipers, Sethorn ruins the lives of any woman he desires.
Uraya refuses to be his plaything…
And her defiance fuels his intense captivation with her.
In an effort to maintain her quest for serenity, Uraya is forced to bargain with him, but Sethorn rouses a sinful craving that only he can control.
Primal attraction erupts into savage, carnal hunger.
When the queen complicates their mission, Uraya realizes she is on the brink of losing not just the peace she has always dreamed of but herself.
And if she doesn’t evade Sethorn’s obsessive claim on her, he will drag her to a fate of his choosing.
The moment she walked into the room, the alpha’s eyes tracked down her body, and Uraya resisted the urge to pull her robes tighter. Maybe what she was wearing wasn’t the best choice of attire to meet him in. “How may I help you, dragorai?”
His smirk disappeared. “That is not how you will address me.”
“It is the middle of the night.” She forced her voice to remain level. “If you wish me to address you appropriately, maybe you should visit at a more appropriate time of the day.”
Sethorn said nothing for a long moment. “Gather your things. We are leaving for my lair.”
Shock jolted through Uraya’s body. “What are you talking about?”
“You are aware that we have been tasked with working together on this ridiculous mission you have insisted on. In order for us to do that, you need to be in my lair.”
“I do not.”
Sethorn lifted his chin, looking down on her through narrow eyes. “Then how do you hope for us to be successful? You do not have any means of getting to my territory frequently enough.”
Uraya shook her head. “Why can’t you come here to work? There is enough space and I will make myself available at any time.”
“I will not keep breaching my brother’s territory simply to work on something that benefits you alone. If you wish for us to carry out this mission quickly and efficiently, you need to be based in my lair. No further discussion.”
Her heart thudded as she glared at him, holding back all the things she wanted to scream in his face. He wasn’t saying this to help her, he simply wanted her in his lair, like he’d insisted from the first time they’d met.
Sethorn stepped closer, his hazel eyes trained on her, and within the depths of the fiery annoyance in his gaze was something that terrified her—a gleam of amusement. His smirk returned. “I can promise you, you will be treated in my lair exactly as you would expect.”
A surge of anger flared in Uraya’s chest. “Respectfully, I decline,” she replied tightly. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the room.
As soon as she was out in the corridor, she exhaled heavily and headed back to her room. How dare he turn up in the middle of the night insisting she go to his lair. He must think she—
Her breath was knocked out of her as something clamped around her stomach and hoisted her into the air. Yelping, Uraya tried to fight against it, but her arms were locked by her sides, and instinctively she recognized the thick arm wrapped around her.
“Put me down!” Uraya struggled against his hold, but it was firm, with no room to squeeze or slip out of his grip.
“Quiet.” Sethorn strode down the corridor. “We do not have time for this. We need to start working tomorrow and for that you need to be in my lair. You do not have a say.”
He fixed her in such a manner that she slightly flopped over his arm like a sack of potatoes. Furious, Uraya abandoned all attempts to remain calm. She fought him as best she could with her arms locked down by her sides while screaming for him to release her. Her voice echoed off the stone walls of the corridor. Surely someone had to hear her? Sethorn hoisted her up higher. “Keep screaming, little foe,” he murmured. “It is good practice for you.”
Zoey Ellis writes dark, magical, fantasy romances about tortured, possessive, alpha anti-heroes and the sassy heroines who belong to them (even if they don’t want to!). Filled with passionate, carnal steam, Zoey’s stories feature couples that go through tough journeys and make mistakes but ultimately have to grow for each other to survive the dark worlds they inhabit.
Described as ‘deliciously dark’ and ‘unputdownable’, Zoey’s thrilling, fantastical romances come complete with roller-coaster twists and turns, unique worlds, and happy endings.
Zoey is a Londoner, cat mama, and proud romance and epic fantasy addict. She loves jealous/possessive heroes, sexual tension that jumps off the page, and memorable, magical worlds. She reads most genres of romance and has a special love for the ‘true mates’ trope and dark angst. However, she enjoys all different genres of fiction, usually on the darker side.
When not working on her stories, Zoey is usually gaming, buddying reading with friends or stumbling upon new and ridiculous ways to mess up a date!
Scott survived hell serving his country. After more than two decades of service, the man honorably discharged from the army isn’t the same man who went in. Instead, he’s angry, violent, guilt-ridden, and in agony. The only thing keeping him going is the brotherhood he’s found in the Hell’s Handlers MC. Until she shows up, ruining his safe space.
Olivia finds herself in Florida, seeking out the man her brother called his best friend after her fiancé proves to be a monster in disguise. But Scott isn’t what she expected. His immediate hatred and hostile attitude send her reeling. Thankfully, the rest of his club is more receptive to her presence. But how can she stick around knowing the man she came to meet can’t stand her? Before long, Olivia realizes deep anguish drives Scott’s bitterness and sour outlook on life. His pain calls to her, causing a need to soothe the beast.
As Scott discovers the woman invading his universe isn’t who he’d judged her to be, he’s drawn to her with a power he can’t resist. But Olivia’s trip to Florida is fueled by a dark secret that might destroy their fragile connection before he can fully understand it.
Lilly Atlas is a contemporary romance author, proud Navy wife, and mother of two spunky girls. By day she works as a physical therapist for a hospital in Virginia. Lilly is an avid romance reader, and expects her Kindle to beg for mercy every time she downloads a new eBook. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened yet, and she can often be found absorbed in a good book.
Title: Into the Sunset Author: S.L. Sterling Genre: Contemporary Romance
I know why I lost her. I was too serious, I was too practical. I was too busy thinking I knew what she wanted without asking her.
Over time, this wore on her. All she wanted was to be heard. She wanted someone to support her big exciting ideas, I was supposed to do that, but I shut them down. No wonder she handed me my ring back and left town. No wonder she married someone else, leaving me with memories of sunsets at the beach and the future I had planned for us.
I went on and built my life without her. My father and I opened the second division of Sunset Builders in Las Vegas, and to my surprise, I stayed busy, almost busy enough not to notice the loneliness. That was until one day I was called to do a quick bathroom and kitchen remodel for a woman who lived on Las Vegas Boulevard. I shouldn’t of gone, I should have sent one of my men because when I arrived, and the door opened, every memory I’d had of Jessica came flooding back.
If I’d learned anything in her absence it was that anything worth doing was worth being done well, and anything worth having was worth fighting for. I just hoped she’d give me a second chance.
Jessica
Ben had always been right to keep me grounded. I should’ve listened because the falls didn’t hurt as bad that way.
I wanted a bigger life, in a bigger brighter place. I never appreciated the beauty of living in a small town with a huge support system. Instead, I left town without so much as a goodbye, chasing a silly dream.
I married the man who promised me the sun, moon, and the stars, but delivered blinding blows. I spent years hiding in the dark so that no one would see my bruised face. Most days, I thought I’d die before I escaped the nightmare. I dreamed of running, it was my only way out. Then I got news my grandfather had passed. He left me money and a gorgeous condo in Vegas. I had a plan. I would upgrade the condo, sell it, and fade away into the sunset, all while my husband was gone on a business trip.
Little did I know that Ben would show up on my doorstep. He swore we could make our dreams real, but this time I was the grounded one. I could only see how we would never work. I’d made too many mistakes and love was terrifying.
S.L. Sterling was born and raised in southern Ontario. She now lives in Northern Ontario Canada and is married to her best friend and soul mate and their two dogs.
An avid reader all her life, S.L. Sterling dreamt of becoming an author. She decided to give writing a try after one of her favorite authors launched a course on how to write your novel. This course gave her the push she needed to put pen to paper and her debut novel “It Was Always You” was born.
When S.L. Sterling isn’t writing or plotting her next novel she can be found curled up with a cup of coffee, blanket and the newest romance novel from one of her favorite authors on her e-reader. Her favorite authors include Kendall Ryan, Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, Lauren Blakely, Alessandra Torre and Willow Winters.
In her spare time, she enjoys camping, hiking, sunny destinations, spending quality time with family and friends and of course reading.
Camilla Vargas, gifted violinist unwilling to ever play again.
When I said I wanted to start over somewhere new, being pulled into a world of monsters and magic is not what I had in mind. Caught in the grips of a faulty spell, my only hope of getting home is picking up a violin and completing a goddess’ quest. Add to that a handsome but less-than-willing, divinely appointed bodyguard, and this whole fiasco runs the risk of ruining my new life plan.
But maybe that’s not so bad.
Valmong, prodigy cleric ignoring the voice of his patron god.
When Tenebrin’s voice rings in my mind, I’m usually better at tuning him out. But he’s persistent, and as a cry rings out through the trees, I can’t ignore the order to help. Camilla is odd — for a bard — refusing the violin that’s clearly hers and unfamiliar with the magic she can wield. Her quest for Claritas’ Insight will probably get me killed, but the longer I’m with her, the less I care.
I just want to keep her safe — even if it means I’ll never see her again.
Valmong slides one hand into my hair beneath the hood as the other settles on my lower back. My heart thunders in my chest, adrenaline spiking my anxiety a few more notches. His fingers graze my neck, a spot near my jugular where I’ve always been ticklish, and I gasp. He deepens the kiss, the embrace turning intimate as I shift in his arms, my hand sliding along the scar on his jaw. Something wraps around my waist, and it takes me a second to realize it must be his tail.
If not for the fear, I could almost forget it’s an act. His lips are soft, his touch gentle. I could get lost in this kiss, if I let myself.
Valmong’s grip loosens, the pressure of his lips growing lighter, until he’s pulled away enough to speak. “He’s gone.”
The air inside the room is lighter than it was, and the crowd has gone back to the generally jovial atmosphere from before. As the band’s music picks up again, I let myself sigh a breath of manic relief. I’m suddenly glad for the mask, knowing how flushed my cheeks must be. And I’m still in his lap, his tail anchoring me in place.
I don’t react right away, too distracted by his proximity, by the way the tavern’s light plays with the gold flecks in his eyes. We both realize we’re staring at the same time, and embarrassment flashes across his face. His tail falls away, and I scramble to my feet.
“I-”
“We shouldn’t linger.” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes darting to the door. “If we’re heading back to the temple, we need to go now.” Valmong tosses a few coins on the table and makes his way through the crowd. I struggle to keep up. As soon as we’re through the door, though, he notices my slower pace and takes my hand. “Stay close. They’ll still be looking.”
The sky has grown orange and pink, the night probably an hour or so away. Around us the crowd continues to party, oblivious to the anxiety and adrenaline pumping through me. Mingling among the revelers are clerics, easily identified by the now familiar robes. A few in black have joined the festival, but it’s impossible to recognize them. They all have their hoods up, and like everyone else, their faces are covered with masks. Their voices carry over the crowd in a steady chant that rises above the music.
“What are they saying?”
Valmong doesn’t need to look to know what I’m asking about. “It’s a prayer, initiating Tenebrin’s portion of the festival.” I want to keep watching, but Valmong pulls me through the crowd as the chanting gets louder. “Hurry — the temple will close soon.”
Katheryn is a software engineer in the Philadelphia area, writing fantasy and paranormal stories when she’s not fighting technology. In 2013, she graduated from King’s College in Pennsylvania with degrees in Computer Science and Professional Writing — so she’s always writing, be it software or fiction. She lives with her husband, Eric, and their furbaby, Ada.
Is he the answer to her troubles or an intoxicating illusion that could turn deadly?
Single mom Olivia Burkhart struggles to rebuild her life after the murder of her fiancé, Brent Allen, a deputy on Honeysuckle Island. She vows to never get involved with another cop, and then Flynn Yates enters her life with his playful smile and penetrating blue eyes.
As Olivia tries to come to terms with her feelings for Flynn, life delivers some hard blows that resurface her fears with a vengeance.
Then fate gives her the chance to work six weeks at an exclusive art gallery in charming and quaint Carmel, California by the sea.
When Olivia catches the eye of world-renown artist Xavier Kipling, a brooding and handsome widower, she finds herself drawn into a sophisticated world of wealth beyond anything she’d ever imagined.
A strange painting gives way to unsettling events, making Olivia question if her aching heart can discern between illusion and reality.
Is the Kipling mansion an idyllic haven, or a hiding place for deadly secrets?
As he stepped up, Olivia rolled down the window and placed both hands on the steering wheel as Brent had taught her to do. The officer removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. Olivia jerked, taken aback by the vividness of his deep blue eyes. A tidal wave of heat gushed over her cheeks as she took in his rugged features. She was mortified at the attraction that pinged through her. Why did he have to be so dang good-looking? And why did he have to exude such a bad-boy, reckless vibe that called to her inner soul? It didn’t hurt that he filled out his cop uniform well with his cut biceps and masculine forearms. Great gravity, he was nice to look at.
His gaze lingered on her a moment too long, and then he seemed to catch himself. “Good afternoon,” he began in a brisk tone. “May I see your license and registration?”
It happened again. Their eyes connected, sending all rational thoughts flying out the window. When a tiny smile tugged at a corner of the officer’s mouth, Olivia found herself grinning back like a goober.
His quirk of amusement gave her the jolt she needed to return to her senses. Good grief, she was acting like a moonstruck idiot! She’d always been a sucker for cops. Add in his stunning good looks and sense of arrogance, and she was a goner for sure.
“Your license and registration,” he prompted
She snapped out of her daze. No way could she get involved with another cop. Hadn’t she had enough heartache over Brent to last her a lifetime? Danger followed cops, or rather cops followed danger. She owed it to Ryan and to herself to find a guy who had a stable, predictable job.
What the freaky Frankenstein was she thinking! Here she was contemplating a future … or squelching any chance of a future with some guy who probably wasn’t remotely interested in her. He was simply doing his job. The eye-locking thing was probably a figment of her imagination—proof that she was in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. She was getting twitter-pated over nothing. Was the guy even single? She glanced at his ring finger and felt a curious blip of relief when she saw the naked strip of skin over that all-important finger. Of course, just because he wasn’t wearing a ring didn’t mean that he wasn’t involved with someone.
“Uh, sure,” she stammered as she turned to find her purse. She glanced down at the floorboard and Arden’s feet only to realize that her purse was in the back seat. She was twisting around to get it when Arden caught hold of her arm.
“I’ve got this.” Arden’s voice rang out both confident and indignant.
Crumb! Arden was about to get on her high horse. This was bound to end poorly.
“Officer, do you have any idea who this is?” She looked at Olivia as she spoke.
He raised an eyebrow in faint amusement. “A woman who was speeding in a school zone,” he quipped dryly.
Olivia’s jaw dropped. “I was not speeding! I slowed down.”
He didn’t back down in the slightest. “When you saw my car. And for the record, you didn’t slow down soon enough.”
“I never saw your car.” Anger blanketed her, hot and furious. “I slowed down the instant I saw the sign. That sign should be displayed more prominently,” she added defensively.
He smirked. “If it had been a snake, it would’ve bitten you. License and registration,” he demanded, looking her in the eye.
It went through Olivia’s mind that the guy was a jerk. She should be outraged about the snake wisecrack. But right now, she couldn’t think straight. She was feeling things she never thought she’d feel again—the stir of ribbons through her stomach, the flush of warmth over her skin, the heady sizzle of energy pulsing through her like a fireball.
“Fine,” she spouted as she turned to get her purse. Placing it in her lap, she reached for her wallet and slid out her license. As she handed it over, her hand brushed against the cop’s, rustling awareness through her. Okay, this idiotic attraction was out of control. She turned to Arden, her discomfort spewing out in irritation. “Don’t just sit there like a ninny. Get the registration out of the glovebox.”
Jennifer Youngblood is a USA Today Bestselling Author of clean romance, sweet romance, romantic comedy, and romantic suspense novels. For as long as she could remember, Jennifer has wanted to be an author. In those rare moments when she’s not dreaming up another story, Jennifer loves cooking, spending time with family, and occasionally breaking away from her hectic life to take spontaneous trips to exotic and sometimes not so exotic locations. She couldn’t survive in a world without chocolate, good books, family, and friends.
A generations-old family feud might ruin a couple’s last chance at love…and tear apart the oldest whiskey distillery in Tennessee in the process.
Danica: I need a win. My scumbag ex-boss is trying to drag my reputation through the mud. If I can land my first client, I might be able to get my marketing business off the ground. But when I show up for my first meeting with the owners of a distillery, the gorgeous guy at the end of the table looks an awful lot like the one-night stand I ghosted. So I do what any hot mess in heels would do… pretend like we’ve never met.
Cole: The Hatfields and McCoys have nothing on the feud my family’s got going. We’ve been fighting with the Stewarts longer than anyone in Beaver Bluff can remember. Which sucks since we happen to co-own the largest whiskey distillery in Tennessee. Now they’ve brought in a marketing consultant to switch things up. If I can’t fight my attraction to the woman with curves like a back mountain road, she could ruin me.
Lose yourself in the richly crafted world of Beaver Bluff, Tennessee where the whiskey flows freely and love is only ever a few pages away.
Cole caught me around the waist and propped me up, his mouth wringing the last bits of pleasure from me until I whimpered against him. I was empty, wrung out in the most incredible way. How had he taken my offering and turned it around to satisfy me?
While I laid there, still spinning out of control, he lowered himself, kissing a path from my thighs, over my ass, and up the small of my back. His lips tickled, but I didn’t have the strength to offer any kind of response.
“You weren’t supposed to do that,” I finally managed.
He paused between kisses. “I wasn’t supposed to make you feel good?”
“No. I mean…yes…but I wanted you to feel good.” My mouth pressed against the quilt, making my voice come out in a slurred, punch drunk way.
“Making you feel good is what makes me feel good.” He ran his finger along my side, stopping when he reached the curve of my breast.
“You’re like a unicorn.”
“A what?” His laugh rumbled along my skin.
“A unicorn. A man who lives to satisfy his partner in bed? I can’t believe I found you. I didn’t think men like you existed.”
“I thought you were calling me a unicorn because of my big, long—”
“No, that makes you a well-endowed unicorn.” I somehow got my knees underneath me and lifted myself onto all fours.
USA Today bestselling author Dylann Crush writes contemporary romance with sizzle, sass, heart and humor. A true romantic, she loves her heroines spunky and her heroes super sexy. When she’s not dreaming up steamy storylines, she can be found sipping a margarita and searching for the best Tex-Mex food in the Upper Midwest.
Dylann co-hosts Romance Happy Hour (https://www.romancehappyhour.com/) with live episodes every 2nd and 4th Thursday of each month and is a founding member of the Romance Chicks group where authors and romance readers can connect.
Although she grew up in Texas, she currently lives in a suburb of Minneapolis/St. Paul with her unflappable husband, three energetic kids, a clumsy Great Dane, a lovable rescue mutt, and a very chill cat. She loves to connect with readers, other authors and fans of tequila. You can find her at www.dylanncrush.com.
