Eva Charles is the best-selling author of sexy romantic suspense, and contemporary romance. She spent a career working as a social worker and an attorney, specializing in domestic violence, child abuse and neglect, and civil rights. Aspects of this work often sneak their way into her books.
When she’s not writing steamy stories, trying to squeeze information out of her tight-lipped sons, or playing with the two naughtiest dogs you’ve ever met, Eva’s creating chapters in her own love story.
Title: Pura Vida Author: Jim Utsler Genre: Mystery
Detroit homicide detective Jacob Miller has been accused of many things, but being smart isn’t one of them. The murder of drug dealer Willy is proof enough, but not covering it up is even worse. So why would he think that stealing a fellow inmate’s hidden fortune is any wiser, especially when an ex-mafia family head is after the same thing?
But even the stupidest people have occasional flashes of brilliance, and Jacob is no exception. After being released from prison and moving to sunny Costa Rica, he solves an international murder mystery involving the usual suspects: love, lust, and murder.
Despite that mildly brainiac feather in his cap, he still has to deal with the beef between him, his fellow inmate, and the mob boss…and the violent fallout that ensues.
He was dressed in casual slacks and shirt—and just as casually entered the room. He was probably thinking, An electrical glitch ofsome sort. I was sure he hadn’t thought that someone had broken into his house to do—well, whatever. He walked over to the stereo
and hit the power button.
The music died. He looked around the room but didn’t see me behind the desk, even though I wasn’t hiding. He didn’t see Bob behind the door either, probably because he was hiding. As he was about to leave, I turned on the banker’s lamp. Pusser blinked at the sudden light.
“What—” he said, probably meaning to tack “—the hell?” on the end of that. And then he saw me, blinked a few more times, and simply muttered, “Son of a bitch.”
“Hey, you remember me,” I said.
Pusser turned as I motioned for Bob to close the door.
“I suppose you know why I’m here,” I said.
“I have no fucking clue,” he replied. “And you better get the fuck out. I’m sure the police are on their way right now.”
“What? The alarm system? Your back door was open.”
He just stood there, staring at me, not so casual now. “So why are you here?” he finally said. “And who’s this?” he added, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward Bob.
“He’s no one. No offense, Bob.” Bob didn’t say anything.
“And why am I here?” I continued.
“Yeah.”
“Because…” I paused. “Bob, would you mind stepping out for a minute?”
Bob shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever.” He closed the door behind himself.
“So, like I was saying—”
“Look, you and your sister and your friend, you already bled me dry. There’s no more.”
I looked around his room, office, study, and all the expensive baubles here and there. I thought about the trophy car his trophy wife drove, the gate that opened and closed automatically, the everyday maid, the pool and hot tub out back. “Looks like you don’t
have it so bad.”
“This, this is all my wife’s. I don’t own a damn thing. Between what you and Patari did, you left me nothing.”
“Oh, c’mon,” I said. “It might be in your wife’s name, but it’s yours. I’m sure you, your accountant and attorney Condon took good care of that.”
“And what you did?”
I shook my head. “That’s kind of off the table right now.”
“Is it?” He stood a little straighter now, more forcefully. He was going into offensive, CXO mode.
Title: Love’s Last Kiss Author: Sharon Wray Genre: Romantic Suspense
Is love worth risking everything for?
Rose Guthrie, a reluctant erotic dancer, hasn’t trusted anyone since her parents’ death. Yet, to make money for her brother’s heart transplant, she agrees to deliver a sealed box to a mysterious buyer. Until the box—and the seller—disappear. Not surprised by the betrayal, her situation becomes more dangerous when she learns that a brutal arms dealer, known as the Prince, also wants the box and will kill everyone she loves for it. With one clue left, she breaks into Doom—Savannah’s violent, illegal fight club. Unfortunately, Doom’s referee—the sexy, ex-Army Ranger, Kade Dolan—stands in her way. Although she harbors a secret attraction to Kade, she can’t let him stop her. If she doesn’t deliver the box on time, she’ll lose everything. Including her own life.
Rose doesn’t trust disgraced Army Ranger, ex-con Kade Dolan, but that’s okay—he doesn’t trust himself either. Why? Because he lies to everyone about everything, including his time in Leavenworth and his job as an illegal fight club referee. Then there are his two side gigs. The first as an informant for the Prince, the leader of a secret, two-thousand-year-old private army. The second, loving from afar the beautiful, secretive Rose Guthrie. After the Prince discovers Rose is the courier of a lost 18th century artifact, he orders Kade to help her find the box before their greatest enemy does. If they succeed, Kade must return it to the Prince. If they fail, Kade must kill her.
Betrayal or death. When faced with an impossible choice, Kade can’t lie anymore, at least not when it comes to what he’s about to do the woman he loves. But when Rose uncovers Kade’s lies, they learn a terrible truth—the 18th century box holds a secret far deadlier than they imagined. A secret that could destroy them all.
Rose sat on the edge of the bed, closed her eyes, and clenched her fist until the silver compass watch warmed in her hand.
How could she trust Kade when she hardly knew him?
How could she be falling in love with him when she wasn’t sure she could trust him?
He moved, and she opened her eyes, surprised to see he’d picked up the silver bra. It’d been part of her most popular costume at Rage of Angels.
When its sequins sparkled in the sunlight, he said, “This was the costume you wore the night we met.”
She looked away but couldn’t stop the warm flush that traveled up her neck to her cheeks. She remembered that night. She’d been stripping in a cage that hung from the ceiling and had felt his stare from near the stage, where he’d broken up a fight.
The first time she’d met his blue gaze, something inside her had shifted. He hadn’t looked at her with disdain or disgust or desire. He’d just regarded her as if he understood—she was simply a woman in a cage. A woman in a desperate situation. A woman with no other options.
In that moment, the iron straps around her heart loosened the smallest bit.
“I know the truth, Rose.” He laid the bra across her knees and sat next to her. “That night, I saw it in your eyes. The woman who wore this was a character in a story. A wandering ship in a storm.” He paused when the church’s bells rang eleven a.m. “You pretended to be empty—like a bell tower without a bell. Until we spoke.”
How did he have the words to describe how she’d felt in that cage? Seen as an object, unseen as a woman. A woman with her own desires and fears and dreams. “After my set, I was walking back to the locker room, and you offered me a glass of water.”
His smile brightened his face. “Do you remember what you said to me?”
She shook her head.
“You told me you didn’t date bouncers or bartenders.” He laughed beneath his breath. “Then you walked away.”
“That was rude.” She placed the compass watch on the bed. The stream of sunshine highlighted the etching of an eight-pointed star on the silver cover.
“No.” He took her hands and squeezed. “I recognized it for what it was—self-protection. I understood then, and I understand now. You have no reason to trust me. I’m an ex-con, Army Ranger, Doom referee and fighter, gym employee, and my life is owned by the Fianna.”
“Surely you’ve paid the Fianna back for releasing you from prison.”
“Rose”—He kissed the back of one hand and then the other—“it doesn’t work that way. I belong to them until they decide I don’t.”
She pulled her hands out of his grasp and stood quickly. “What does that mean?”
He stood as well but didn’t approach her. “I can’t tell you.”
Her cheeks burned, and she moved toward the window. Outside, the oak tree separating her from the dead appeared so strong and steady. Especially compared to the fact that her world felt like it was falling off its axis. “You ask me to trust you, yet you admit you’re keeping secrets.”
He came up behind her and touched her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
She turned halfway to see his profile. He didn’t meet her gaze. His sight was fixed on the tree where Magnus had stood.
“Kade,” she asked softly, “are you going to give the Fianna my box?”
“No.” He turned her until they faced each other. His lips lowered until they hovered over hers. “Like I said last night, I’m in love with you.”
“That’s not possible.” She backed away, and he dropped his hands. “We hardly know each other. I’ve caused you nothing but problems. And you’re keeping secrets.”
He moved forward with determination, and she retreated until her back hit the wall. His gaze darkened, making his eyes appear more black than blue. He took her shoulders and drew her against him. “I promise you, Tempest Rose Guthrie, I will return.” His lips met hers in a firestorm of need and want and desire. He held her so close, every inch of her soft body was up against hard muscles. The kiss started out demanding, as if daring her to object. But when she relaxed against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, he deepened the kiss until she melted into his embrace.
Sharon is a librarian who once studied dress design in the couture houses of Paris and now writes of novels of suspense, adventure, and love. A caretaker of Donut the one-eyed rescue dog, she’s addicted to snapping photos and eating Oreos.
She writes the bestselling Deadly Force romantic suspense series where smart, sexy women teach their alpha males that Grace always defeats Reckoning.
Growing up as the oldest Kingston sibling, I knew what was expected of me.
King Corp. was my legacy, and my siblings were my responsibility.
The world was ours for the taking. For the living.
But I neglected to live it for myself . . . until her.
Daphne Brenner wasn’t meant to be part of the deal.
I never intended to acquire a new assistant with my new hockey team, but here she is.
Constantly challenging me. Continually Intriguing me. Never backing down.
Even if I’m the villain in her fairytale.
He stole my legacy, and now he holds the key to my future.
When he sold our family’s hockey team to Max Kingston, my father destroyed my dreams without a second thought. And that was only his first betrayal.
Now I have to play nice with my new boss in order to carve out my new future.
But when long days and late nights lead to so much more, I realize I’m falling for the intensely arrogant, beautiful man who quietly puts everyone else’s needs before his own.
Playing nice with the enemy isn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be.
Bella Matthews is a Jersey girl at heart. She is married to her very own Alpha Male and raising three little ones. You can typically find her running from one sporting event to another. When she is home, she is usually hiding in her home office with the only other female in her house, her rescue dog Tinker Bell by her side. She likes to write swoon-worthy heroes and sassy, smart heroines with a healthy dose of laughter thrown in.
The Brooklyn warehouse is filled with graffiti and pigeon poo. It’s practically begging to be converted into luxury loft apartments.
And yet, will my mother sell it to me, her only son, the investment wunderkind?
“Darling, buildings have souls,” she says, between sips of green juice.
“Show me that you’re on the path to spiritual wellness, and I’ll give it to you.”
Enter Sydney Taylor, my best friend’s little sister, spiritually well enough for even my mother’s past selves to approve of, and my least favorite person on earth…in this life or any of the others I’ve supposedly lived. I wouldn’t date her if she was the last woman on earth. I’ve repeatedly fantasized about shipping her to Mars.
Instead, I marry her.
I know, I know, my crew has quite the history with phony relationships, but this one’s different.
No matter what my mother sees in our auras.
Or how much I want to hate-boink her maddeningly sweet little…
Yep, once my mother signs over that building, I’m definitely going to walk away from this hot-fakery totally unscathed.
And if you buy that, I’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.
Love just means you haven’t scored yet. Keep playing. Keep hitting that ball until you make a winner out of yourself. In tennis, a winner can’t have love.
And I’m a winner. I’m the one who wins, and wins, and then sleeps with the prom queen. Normal people wish they could walk in my shoes for a few hours, then they feel jealous when they meet me.
I’m a stone-cold winner. Twenty-eight, TriBeCa penthouse, over a billion in the bank, a dick that could choke a giraffe. Women love me, then hate me later on. That’s fine, as long as they love me first. I’ve won every single game I’ve ever played. Well… except this one.
“That’s the match!” my mother says, beaming at me from across the court.
Fuck, I let that last volley of hers sail right past my head. I glare at the stupid yellow ball as it bounces off the court.
Yep. That’s the set. Four games to two. At least I didn’t get love though. That’d make me a real fucking loser.
“Good job, Maryann,” I mutter. Mom doesn’t mind that I call her by her first name. She didn’t think it was weird even when I started doing it at six.
“Chin up, sweetheart.” My mother walks off the court at my side, beaming as she slides her sunglasses on top of her ageless blond head.
“You know, you only lost because you never commit to your backhand.”
“I lost,” I say, “because Sydney Taylor kept distracting me.”
Honestly, the Kensington Tennis Club is the exact last place I ever thought Sydney fucking Taylor would show her face. It’s the summer meet-and-greet locale for all of New York’s high society. While Sydney got a membership to that club by being born into one of the richest families on the planet, she’s never wanted to hang around with any of us “trust-fund assholes.” Her term, not mine. Like I said, WASP-y tennis club isn’t her idea of a good time. I’d have expected her to be building outhouses down in Guatemala or getting into a fist fight with Richard Spencer.
Not that I’d blame her.
But here she is, seated at a table on the patio, shooting me one smug grimace after another. When she catches me staring, she cheerfully flips me off. Then, in case anyone becomes shocked by her unladylike display, she uses her middle finger to scratch her forehead.
Classy save, Syd. I fucking hate her, and the feeling’s mutual.
Piper Marlowe is an absolute legend, if you know where to look. And trust us, you don’t.
For national security reasons, her identity is a secret. As a matter of fact, there’s a good chance that at this very moment, she’s undercover, speaking with a bad Lithuanian accent to a bunch of shady characters. She can neither confirm nor deny that she’s writing ultra-fun, uber-witty, hot-darn-sexy romance to distract from the stress of her current clandestine operation.
Or maybe romance writing is the cover for a cover?
She could tell you, but then she’d have to . . . you know. That.
Rose Hawthorne is a celebrity author in her early seventies, who dislikes the spotlight but has a penchant for Hermes scarfs, round violet sunglasses, and old colonial hotels.
One day, she receives a strange letter asking her to visit Newgrange, Ireland and look for something that has been hidden there for a thousand years.
She asks her granddaughter to accompany her, but she hadn’t expected Samantha to continually be posting photos of their progress on her Instagram account. An encounter with an old love and an unexpected discovery leads Rose further and further into the past, and she finds must make a hard decision about her future.
Don’t miss this second book in the Rose Hawthorne series!
She linked her arm around his as they walked, a natural move. She was allowed to do it. It felt right. Rose was drawn towards Bill. He was like a giant magnet pulling her and she couldn’t help but move closer to him.
They walked together, drunk and happy. She didn’t engage him in conversation. She knew the flow was right. He talked and she listened.
When they got to the next pub, he bought her another pint, and they sat down to listen to a lone fiddler. She sipped the Guinness. It was dark and warm, different from any other beer.
He’d leaned over her, and then—the kiss. The kiss came as a surprise to her. His soft lips were on hers. She could smell the beer on his breath.
After the kiss, he put his forehead against hers. They sat together, joined like that for a long time, letting the music wash over them, throbbing in time with their heartbeats.
At first, the music the fiddler played was lively, his fingers deftly danced across the strings, and a few couples got up to spin around the floor. Towards the end of his set, he played exquisite notes that washed over the pub, making the dust dance, and it rose in the air like magic. The cheering and conversation quieted down for his last song. It was a slow piece that most of them recognised. The fiddler hit the final note with such poignancy that it echoed throughout the pub. When the music stopped, the whole pub went quiet.They cleared their throats and blinked back tears, and then took a few last swallows from their pints.
“Nothing like a bit of Irish music to bring out the tears,” Bill admitted wiping an eye.
“It’s something so special,” Rose agreed with a small sniff.
And all around the pub, they raised their glasses to the fiddler and his music.
As people began to leave the pub, Rose realized that it was getting late and neither of them had eaten yet.
“Shall we eat something? Maybe grab some fish and chips?” Bill said, reading her mind.
“Perfect,” she replied in a low, quiet voice.
They bought some greasy fish and chips at a nearby takeaway. It was wrapped in brown paper and covered with the Dublin news.
Then, they walked the streets until they found a bench under the stars away from the shouts, laughter and the lights. Beside the river, they were alone. They unwrapped the greasy paper and ate the cod hungrily, stuffing the vinegar smeared fries quickly into their mouths.
“Do you want the last chip?” Bill had said softly, holding it up in his greasy fingers.
Rose raised her eyebrows and smiled. “I certainly do.”
Bill placed it gently in her mouth, looking deeply into her eyes. She kissed his fingers slowly.
Then he kissed her again. She’d clung to him and let him kiss her.
They were both tired. Bill took her hand and led her up a narrow laneway not far away.
Shannon is originally from Winnipeg, Canada but has had the great fortune to have traveled and lived in several countries. After graduating with a degree in English literature she focused on travelling for a few years and eventually found herself teaching English in Japan. After more than a decade in Japan, she returned to teach ESL in Canada and convinced her husband and daughter to join her. These days she lives in San Jose, California, and enjoys coaxing her dog to train for a Camino.
Kiera’s capacity to face death stems from training, begun when old enough to wield a knife. Befriended by wolves and raised by a group of psychic men sworn to protect humanity, she now faces mercenaries intent on reshaping the world using equal talents.
Prodigious keyboard skills and innate curiosity has led Wyatt McGlauklin to invent the unimaginable. He’s long since claimed status as the top computer science geek. Little do people know, there’s much more to Wyatt.
When a blonde spitfire steps out of nowhere to prevent his assassination, his life’s direction takes an extraordinary turn where his analytical mind can’t validate paranormal phenomena.
Fate decrees Kiera find her life partner, but she learns you don’t always get to choose whom you love. Wyatt’s arrival challenges destiny as they combine forces to preserve the world as they know it.
Wyatt stiffened when something furry dropped onto his right shoulder. Warm and agile, the monkey wrapped its tail around his neck to secure its place with an arm around his head, latching on to his left ear.
“You have a monkey?” He thought keeping wolves was strange.
“He’s a Capuchin monkey. Name’s Simon.”
Wyatt held very still, not wanting to startle the critter that had jumped down from one of the ceiling fan’s paddles. “That explains the thickness of the paddles and size of the motor. Does he like to ride?” An image of the fan on low with Simon hanging by his fully haired prehensile tail and a primal scream filling the air came to mind.
“Yeah, but he gets so excited and makes so much noise, we don’t let him do it often.”
Wyatt held his hands out, an offering for the monkey to vacate his new perch, then slowly moved to pluck the primate from his shoulder. Round-headed with a white face, an eerie intelligence shone from deep within its gaze. “Capuchins are supposed to be one of the most intelligent of the New World monkeys.”
“He won’t let you forget it.”
“Um, Kiera. Simon is actually a Simone.”
In response, the monkey slapped Wyatt on the cheek and shrieked its rage.
“Ow. What was that for?”
“He doesn’t like to be referred to as a girl. And before you ask, he likes to perch high to have a visual advantage. It gives him a bird’s eye view. Of note, if he doesn’t like you, he’ll toss things at you while you sleep. He has a penchant for stealing and hording Dacien’s jelly beans.”
“Sounds like he makes good use of opposable thumbs.”
As if understanding the complexities of English, Simon patted Wyatt on the head before tweaking his nose.
“See? He likes you.”
Wyatt wondered what devilment the monkey stirred up and if he led or followed in Kiera’s steps. “Where’d you find him?”
Reily Garrett is a writer, mother, and companion to three long coat German shepherds. When not working with her dogs, she’s sitting at her desk with her fur kids by her side.
Author of chilling suspense and snarky romance, her stories span the distance of romantic thrillers, paranormal romance, and erotic romance. Regardless of genre, each book delves into a dark and twisted imagination yet is tempered with romance and a touch of humor.
Reviews by Kirkus Reviews, San Francisco Bay Review, and BestThrillers.com best describe her work:
“This could be James Patterson, Lee Child, and Tess Gerritsen rolled into one, but the dark, twisted methods used by the serial killer could surprise even those readers…” – San Francisco Bay Review
He’s walled himself inside his pain. Can he break out of his shell to save everything he holds dear?
Kris McLean desperately needs to bust out of his darkness. After a series of unspeakable tragedies send him to the psych ward, staying strong for his daughter is the only light at the end of his tunnel. And when he hits his blackest hour and reaches for a rope, he’s devastated to survive and find his parental rights under threat.
Struggling daily not to grab the bottle, the broken man can’t risk failing the only thing left worth living for. But with his heart too damaged to swell at even sunrises and poetry, Kris finds each day a crippling battle to salvage his life.
Can this fractured father defeat his demons and feel his little girl’s embrace?
Hate Me is the powerful fifth book in the complex Claiming Kristopher series. If you like troubled characters, chaotic struggles, intense passion, and the extraordinary depth of the human spirit, then you’ll love Angel Jendrick’s torrid tale.
His heart thumped a commanding beat, content for a time to just soak up his daughter. Her unsteady steps, the late afternoon daylight gleaning off her eyes, the mischievous smile she had solely for Courtney as she stumbled into her waiting arms.
It felt like the sun rose and landed around her, like his little girl could move mountains and stop global warming. He was fucking star-struck.
“Our little girl is so beautiful.”
Drew’s sentiment threw him off guard, and he faltered.
Angel Jendrick is the author of gritty contemporary romances. She’s also been known to dabble in poetry from time to time. When not writing or editing (or thinking about writing or editing), she can be found watching movies, jamming to her favorite tunes, running after her kids, or working on her latest home reno or DIY project.
Angel lives in Canada on thirteen beautiful acres of land with her wife, their three children, Ellie their energetic lab and a blind cat name Taz.
She is currently working on the final book in her Claiming Kristopher series, as well a brand new venture into the world of YA romance!
Title: River of Ashes Author: Alexandrea Weis & Lucas Astor Series: St. Benedict #1 Genre: Psychological Thriller
SOME TRUTHS ARE BETTER KEPT SECRET. SOME SECRETS ARE BETTER OFF DEAD.
ALONG THE BANKS OF THE BOGUE FALAYA RIVER, sits the abandoned St. Francis Seminary. Beneath a canopy of oaks, blocked from prying eyes, the teens of St. Benedict High gather here on Fridays. The rest of the week belongs to school and family—but weekends belong to the river.
And the river belongs to Beau Devereaux.
The only child of a powerful family, Beau can do no wrong. Star quarterback. Handsome. Charming. The “prince” of St. Benedict is the ultimate catch.
He is also a psychopath.
A dirty family secret buried for years, Beau’s evil grows unchecked. In the shadows of the haunted abbey, he commits unspeakable acts on his victims and ensures their silence with threats and intimidation. Senior year, Beau sets his sights on his girlfriend’s headstrong twin sister, Leslie, who hates him. Everything he wants but cannot have, she will be his ultimate prize.
As the victim toll mounts, it becomes clear that someone must stop Beau Devereaux.
The light from the fire pit chased away the shadows from the woods along the outskirts of Devereaux land. Beau warmed his hands as Mitch Clarkson, the towering ebony-skinned player from the football team, recounted their last victory against Martin High. Josh Breeland, the defensive end with arms as big as tree trunks, sat next to him while Jenson Theriot reclined against a stump across from Beau. The redhead’s eyes darted between them, appearing unsure.
Mitch popped the top off a beer bottle. “That Boulder kid got past you last week. You didn’t see him comin’, did ya? Made you miss a block and almost got Beau’s ass sacked.”
“Almost cost us the game,” Beau added.
Jenson put down the beer Mitch swiped from his old man’s stash. “Yeah, I know, I blew it. That’s why I was surprised you asked me to come out here. I’ll make it up to you at the next game. I promise. I’ll make every block, Beau. You can count on me.”
Beau traced a circle in the dirt with a stick. “I know. You just need a little incentive. That’s why we’re here.”
Jenson peered into the thick covering of pine and oaks surrounding their fire. “You got a sweet place, Beau. I never knew these woods were behind your house. Kind of creepy, though.”
Josh cracked open another beer and handed it to Jenson. “The last time we camped out here, I heard a bunch of shit crashin’ through the brush. Mitch said it was deer. My guess is a pack of raccoons.”
Beau’s grip on his water bottle tightened. “It was wild dogs. We get them on the property. My dad thinks they come over from The Abbey grounds. Even shot a couple.”
Jenson looked at his two beers. “I shot a buck once. I didn’t like it much.” He set one of the beers down.
“Then you didn’t do it right,” Beau insisted. “The fun is tracking down your prey. And make sure it never sees you coming.”
“Dude, chug it down,” Josh said, picking up Jenson’s beer. “Ain’t gonna get fun ‘round here until you’ve emptied a six-pack.”
“Hell yeah!” Mitch hollered.
Beau grinned at his friends’ enthusiasm. He couldn’t carry out his plan without them.
Beau stared down at the sleeping giant curled up next to the fire. Jenson drooled as he slept off the beers Josh had practically force-fed him. Beau racked the shotgun in his hand, ready for the festivities to begin. He nudged Jenson’s hip with the weapon. “Wakey, wakey, Jenny. We’re going hunting.”
Jenson stirred, his eyelids slowly fluttering open. Then he bolted upright, wide-eyed.
Beau, Mitch, and Josh stood around him, wearing grotesque dog masks. Beau liked how the shadows cast by the firelight made them look like monsters. He liked the fear in Jenson’s eyes even more.
Beau aimed the shotgun at him. “Run, dog.”
Jenson scrambled to his feet, pulling at his falling jeans. “What the hell?” He held up his hands. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Aw, come on, Jenny,” Mitch teased, slapping his shoulder. “You’re gonna be our prey tonight.”
Jenson stood, the vein along his neck pulsating. “Guys, come on, now. Stop foolin’. I don’t wanna go runnin’ in these woods.” He motioned at the trees. “Beau said they got wild dogs—”
The boom of Beau’s gun going off pierced the night.
Jenson cowered while Mitch and Josh snickered.
“Run, Jenny, run!” Beau shouted.
Jenson took a step away, not appearing too motivated.
Beau pointed the gun at his head. “I said move.” He growled.
Jenson tripped over a log as he hurried to the edge of the firelight. He hesitated before the curtain of darkness that led to the deepest reaches of the Devereaux Estate and glanced back at Beau and his friends. Wiping his eyes, he took in their dog masks, then eased between two tall pines and disappeared.
“Run, Jenny!” Josh called out.
Beau lowered his weapon and turned to his friends. “Chase him down the trail to the point I showed you. By then, he should learn to move his ass faster on the field.”
Josh howled, getting into character. He took off into the darkness, carrying Beau’s flashlight.
Mitch followed right behind, wielding one of the electric lamps Beau brought from the house.
Beau tucked the rifle under his arm and returned to the campfire. He grabbed a backpack and set out in the opposite direction from the others. He had work to do.
Alexandrea Weis, RN-CS, PhD, is a multi-award-winning author of over twenty-seven novels, a screenwriter, ICU Nurse, and historian who was born and raised in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Having grown up in the motion picture industry as the daughter of a director, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story moving and memorable. A member of the Horror Writers Association and International Thriller Writers Association, Weis writes mystery, suspense, thrillers, horror, crime fiction, and romance. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans where she is a permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries and rescues orphaned and injured animals.
Lucas Astor is from New York, has resided in Central America and the Middle East, and traveled through Europe. He lives a very private, virtually reclusive lifestyle, preferring to spend time with a close-knit group of friends than be in the spotlight.
He is an author and poet with a penchant for telling stories that delve into the dark side of the human psyche. He likes to explore the evil that exists, not just in the world, but right next door behind a smiling face.
Photography, making wine, and helping endangered species are just some of his interests. Lucas is an expert archer and enjoys jazz, blues, and classical music.
One of his favorite quotes is: “It’s better to be silent than be a fool.” ~Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird)
The latest action-packed installment in the Mermaid of Venice series finds Gia Acquaviva, the world’s most famous mermaid, reconnecting with a mysterious man from her past. Will he punish Gia and get the revenge he deserves––or will they fall in love all over again?
Meanwhile, Gia attempts to rebuild her broken business empire just as the Mermaid world descends into a bitter and dangerous civil war. Gia already picked her allies, but will she make good on her promises––or will she cut sail when the winds shift?
Fans of Killing Eve and Fifty Shades of Grey will love the Mermaid of Venice series. These page-turning thrillers have lush fantasy elements and showcase the billionaire lifestyle that you secretly covet.
“Folks, what you are going to learn tonight will shock you to your core. I am joined by Queen Awa, the regent who previously ruled over a colony of mermaids near Dakar, Senegal.” She paused, and the producer cut to a wide shot. “Welcome back to the show, Queen Awa.”
“Many thanks for allowing me to be here again, Harper.”
“You recently suffered a tragedy, did you not?”
“That’s putting it mildly, to be frank. My queendom was the target of a mass genocide.”
Harper opened her eyes dramatically. “Wait, what are you saying?
That the tsunami that hit the coast of Senegal, causing devastation to your colony, wasn’t a natural disaster?”
“No, no, no,” Awa clucked. “There was no natural cause for what happened to my people. It was supernatural. In fact, in your world, you might call it magic. Witchcraft. Sorcery. And there are only two individuals powerful enough to cast such a spell. Queen Zale of Greece and Queen Karen of California.”
Harper placed her hands on her cheeks à la Home Alone for pronounced effect. “You always turn my understanding of the world upside down, Queen Awa. So, let me see if I understand. Please allow me to break this down for the humans watching. You are saying that your nation was attacked… by other mermaids? With… um… magic?”
“Indeed. Only this wasn’t some harmless spell. It was an unsanc- tioned act of terror… which also means that it was a very clear decla- ration of war,” Queen Awa stated matter-of-factly.
“War?” Harper gasped.
“I never imagined this would happen during my reign, but, yes, we are now in the midst of the first Mermaid Civil War.”
Queen Awa narrowed her eyes and looked down the barrel of the camera lens, speaking in Atargatis to any mermaid who might see the video. “Merfolk, choose your sides carefully. The power of the Gracious Tides has been corrupted. Before there is peace, there will be war.”
JINCEY LUMPKIN is a writer and creative director in Luxury Beauty. She is the author of the Mermaid of Venice fantasy thriller series. Recognized as a thought leader on women and culture, Jincey has written more than 50 columns for the Huffington Post and Playboy. She headlined Sex Week at Harvard and gave an infamous TEDx talk, “Are Robots the Future of Sex?” She has been profiled by Dateline NBC, Vice, and GQ, among others. Out Magazine listed her in its “OUT 100”, naming her as one of the world’s most influential LGBTQ+ people, alongside celebrities like Laverne Cox and Ricky Martin.
