As a member of Cross Security, Mason Hawk is a tormented man on a mission…some might say he has a death wish. No case is too difficult. Nothing if off limits. He delivers his own brand of justice. Solitude is his only reward. For fifteen years he has hidden the secrets he ran from at age seventeen. He shut everyone out when he became a Navy SEAL and he honed his skills to become the monster he believes he is. He’s a man with demons that run deep and dark. No one gets in. That is until she walks into his life and brings him to his knees. She’s beautiful, smart, and perfect. Like beauty and the beast, he believes she could never love a man like him.
Kai Wailani has lived the perfect life. She has a loving family, has surfed all over the world and is on top of her game at the U.S. Airforce, but she wants more. When she joins Cross Security, the only man stopping her from achieving her goal is a gorgeous wall of muscle who goes simply by Hawk. He’s dark, dangerous, and yet, he can make her smile with a single glance. He’s a force when he walks into a room and he wants nothing to do with her.
Like fire and ice, the dance begins. They are enemies. They are lovers. There are so many secrets. Can Hawk and Kai trust each other enough to find their happy ending or will their passion end them both?
As I’m walking through the lobby of my hotel, the concierge smiles brightly at me. She’s cute, sweet, and is always happy to see me. I’ve thought about asking her to join me for a drink on numerous occasions, but then a certain raven-haired beauty flashes across my mind and the thought dies away. I’m not interested in starting anything up with another woman and my dick seems to agree with me. As cute as Lisa is, she just doesn’t do it for me. No one does except the woman I stupidly pushed away. It’s for the best, I remind myself. I’m caught up in my pity party when I realize Lisa is talking to me.
“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Hawk. Your wife arrived a short while ago. I’ve sent a courtesy bottle of champagne up to your room.” She is so excited that she is almost bouncing in place.
I stop dead in my tracks. “Excuse me?” I ask as I look over at the girl who now has a nervous look on her face.
“Umm… your wife… she arrived about an hour ago.” She slaps her hand over her mouth and her eyes go wide. “Oh no, I forgot it was supposed to be a surprise and now I’ve ruined it. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” She looks like she is about to be sick. “Please don’t tell her I ruined her surprise,” she pleads.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, trust me, I’m still surprised. I won’t spoil it by telling her you told me.” My voice comes out a bit more growly than I intended. I mean, who can blame me, I just fucking found out I have a wife and I definitely don’t fucking remember getting married. I wonder who I’m married to as I double-time it to the elevator. I’m in the penthouse; the clients aren’t sparing any expense when it comes to proving their father was murdered, and since I am here for the long haul, they were gracious enough to make sure I was comfortable.
When the elevator doors open to my floor, I take a quick look around before I walk up to my door, pull the gun out of the holster under my jacket and load a bullet into the chamber. There’s no one out here and everything looks to be in order, but training kicks in and I prepare for whatever lies behind that door.
This job has been pretty uneventful, but things are about to get a lot more interesting. I slip my card into the slot on the door and the lock snicks open. It’s quiet, but not quiet enough. I’ve no doubt whoever is inside definitely knows I’m here now. Pushing the door open, I slip inside. The sound of soft jazz floats through the air. The place is dark except for the warm glow of flickering candles coming from down the hall. The familiar scent of wildflowers and the sea have my cock hardening as soon as I’m through the door. I know that scent, I breathe it in like it’s a lifeline to the promised land. It’s her scent… what the fuck is she doing here.
I click on the safety and holster my gun as I walk down the hall. She comes into view as I round the corner. Goddess, angel, seductress is all I can think as I take her in, sitting on the sofa, bathed in the warm glow of the candles that surround her. She’s fucking breathtaking. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders and tumbles down her back like an inky waterfall. Her golden body is wrapped in soft pink silk that shimmers in the candlelight. Her head is resting back on the sofa and her eyes are closed. She hasn’t noticed me yet, or if she has, she isn’t letting on that she has.
I clear my throat as I lean my shoulder against the wall, watching her. Her eyes fly open and instantly lock on mine like two pools of molten chocolate that hold me captive. Her luscious lips curl up slightly at the corners at the sight of me, but she doesn’t say a word, she just sits there waiting for me to speak.
Nancy Carolyn Brown is an author of contemporary romance, fond of writing love stories about hunky badass men endowed with massive hearts, and strong heroines with just the right mix of sweet and sass… flaming hot chemistry and thrilling nail biting suspense is always guaranteed!
She loves cosmos and chocolate and a swoony good book with a strong storyline.
She lives in sunny southern Alberta, Canada with her high school sweetheart husband and naughty Bengal cat. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys the simple things in life like spending time with family and friends, reading and running with her favorite playlist blasting in her ears.
As a senator’s daughter, Kennedy Blackwell has everything, or so it seems. But on her wedding day, a shocking secret changes everything, and Kennedy’s fortunes turn on a dime. Instead of offering their unconditional support, her parents turn their backs on her, proving once and for all that her father’s goal of becoming president is more important than his own child. Forced to start over, Kennedy relies on a pact she and five friends made to each other back in junior high. She also enlists the help of the “entertainment” from her bachelorette party, a handsome handyman-by-day, exotic dancer-by-night.
Wade Roberts faces his existence one crisis at a time. Everything bad in his life has directly resulted from a poor decision or the actions of a member of the Blackwell family. So, when the senator’s daughter calls asking for help, he’s torn between assisting her or making her “pay.” Soon tangled up in the Blackwell family drama, he finds himself being framed for an unspeakable crime. Wade must step up and prove his innocence and his love for a woman who deserves more than he can offer.
Can two people who start with nothing end up with everything?
She blinked and focused on her future husband standing at the end of the aisle. He looked as nervous as she felt. There was even a green hue to his complexion, probably a side effect from his bachelor party. Unlike Emily, he could toss the booze back with little effect, but last night they must have really tied one on.
She made her way toward him with knocking knees and trembling hands.
When the minister asked who gave this woman and her father answered, a ball of emotions welled inside her. Who’d thought those words were a good idea? It was like she was being traded for political favors when the only exchange between father and future son-in-law was the promise of box seats for next year’s games.
She took Logan’s hand in front of the officiant, who talked about the sacred vow of marriage and what love meant. They recited traditional promises to love, honor, and cherish until death do they part, but neither met the other’s eyes. Logan looked past or through her to her bridesmaids. She stared at a piece of lint on his shoulder.
“Does anyone here have a reason to object to this marriage?” The minister’s voice boomed, leaving no doubt everyone heard him.
Kennedy ran through an entire list of reasons to object in her head. She still had time to change her mind, but when she looked at Logan and saw the same fear she felt, a small giggle escaped her mouth. They both had wedding jitters. That was normal.
At that moment, he looked at her the way he had when they first met. Despite the anxiety and feelings of doom, she was the luckiest woman in the world.
The congregation sat silently as the minister waited the obligatory several seconds for anyone to object. He cleared his throat. “I now pronounce you—” “Wait!” Emily said loudly enough for everyone to hear, though her voice cracked. “I can’t let you marry him.”
International bestselling author of more than thirty novels, Kelly Collins writes with the intention of keeping love alive. Always a romantic, she blends real-life events with her vivid imagination to create characters and stories that lovers of contemporary romance, new adult, and romantic suspense will return to again and again.
Kelly has sold more than a quarter of a million books worldwide, and in 2021 she was awarded a Readers’ Favorite Award Gold Medal in the Contemporary Romance category for A Tablespoon of Temptation.
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.
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.
That’s what the police found after Penelope spun her bizarre tale. In a hysterical state, she said her father was butchered and eaten by a mob of birds ~ in her bedroom.
They claim she’s crazy. That she suffers from delusions. Penelope is dead set on proving them wrong.
After being institutionalized for eight months, Penelope is out and more determined than ever to find answers to her so-called hallucinations. With her father’s untimely disappearance, she’s convinced her family is hiding something sinister.
THE OMEN OF CROWS NEST is the latest masterpiece by the award-winning author Cathrina Constantine, and is sure to leave fans of fantasy gasping!
I returned to Crows Nest searching for hope, only to find ghosts.
Gone for eight months, give or take a few weeks, there had been a drastic change in the house. Perhaps, I’d overlooked the turrets I once imagined as a stairway to Heaven were scarred— like me. Cylinder peaks somewhat askew and shingles hanging in disarray correlated with my life thus far.
Some things remained the same. The worn exterior didn’t discourage flocks of birds to hover above and roost on the turrets and power lines.
Dad declared he was the cornerstone of the household, but we all knew it was Gramma. When her fancy tickled her, she told us myths and legends whence our house got its name because crows infested the land. Circling crows, like today, was an omen of death. I shivered. Heedful of that premonition all too well.
“Crows are inherently clever, intelligent,” Gramma would say, “Pay attention, they bring messages. They’re a symbol of magic, mystery, and destiny.” Her fowl wisdom had been indoctrinated in me since I toddled around the Nest.
What message are they bringing today? Welcoming or cautioning?
I should’ve carried a machete to cleave through the scrub, yellowing stalks. Snaking ivy coiled the pillars and canopied the second story balcony, which precariously bowed. On the long drive, Dean had informed me that the unforgiving winter had taken a toll.
My boots crunched on mulch and brittle leaves as I stepped onto the wraparound porch. It had been my responsibility to sweep it, a chore that should have been handed down to my younger siblings. The ornate beveled picture window was cracked. Something had smashed into it, creating jagged veins in the glass.
Planting indecisive legs at the front door, my toes grew into unyielding roots, wrestling into the tongue and groove boards. Heartier roots to replenish those that had been trimmed, uprooted, and torn to shreds.
Will my brother and sister despise me? Considering all those weeks before I was sent away, they’d never given me any reason to doubt their trust or their love. Nevertheless, in all these months, I seldom saw them. Gramma could have brainwashed them against me. She maintained that kind of authority.
I stared at the tarnished door knocker. Still scary and still life-like. A crow’s head with a gaping beak. Emotionally fraught, I turned, searching for Dean. He was body-deep in the trunk of the car grappling with my baggage.
“Need help?” I asked, voice squeaky.
He peeked his head around the car. His expressive, honey-amber eyes flashed as he flicked his arm, a signal to go in. Many nights I’d dreamt of him and those eyes. It shouldn’t be this hard. I veered to the door and thought, I’m home.
I am blessed with a loving family and forever friends. My world revolves around them.
I grew up in the small village of Lancaster, NY, where I married my sweetheart. I’m devoted to raising 5 cherished children, and now my grandchildren.
I love to immerse myself in great books of every kind of genre, which helps me to write purely for entertainment, and hopefully to inspire readers. When not stationed at my computer you can find me in the woods taking long walks with my dog.
According to Hollywood insiders, Harper and Brett Kennedy have the perfect family life—an image that has been carefully cultivated by an army of PR experts at Galaxy Studios. The truth is, their relationship has been on the rocks since Brett cheated when Harper was pregnant with their youngest child. Four years later, he’s still cheating, but this time with the nanny.
When the tabloids find out, a media frenzy ensues, all but making Harper and her kids prisoners in their Pacific Palisades mansion. Needing time out of the spotlight to regroup, Harper rents a cabin in the last place the press or anyone else would ever think to look for her—Gamble, Alaska.
There, she finds peace, solitude, and Digger McKenzie. Will the gruff lodge owner, who goes out of his way to make Harper feel like she doesn’t belong, realize he’s about to miss out on his one chance at happiness? Will Harper’s kids adjust to small-town life and heal from the chaos of their parents’ separation? Will Harper learn how to shoot a bear?
Find out in the deliciously funny and dishy first installment of the Love is a Gamble Mom-Com Series.
As the old folks say, it’s on like Donkey Kong! My manicurist’s street-sweeper’s garbageman saw Brett Kennedy boarding a plane for—wait for it—Alaska.
Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that reunion. Will there be a reconciliation? Tears? Accusations? Someone on his knees begging for forgiveness? Whatever the scene, I’m sure it was epic.
A teensy bit of advice for Brett: If your angel wife decides to take you back, you might consider offering to have yourself chipped—via the animal shelter.
A little advice for Harper: Gurl, my mama always said, if you lie down with dogs, you’re gonna get fleas. She also said something about not eating where you poop, but I’m not sure that’s relevant here. All I know is that if you take him back, you’re gonna need to wear a flea collar.
I’m going to go lie down and meditate now. I’m going to visualize sweet Harper in a bubble of protective light. She’s surely going to need it in the days ahead.
Dishingly yours,
Ferris Biltmore
Harper
My old life feels like it’s a million miles away. Pulling in front of the diner, I turn the ignition off and sit quietly, trying to focus my thoughts. I take slow, deep breaths, endeavoring to feel myself in my body. But at this very moment in time, I can’t. My life seems unreal to me, like I’m playing a character in a movie.
I read somewhere that’s how grief makes you feel. It’s almost like your soul has been transported out of your skin. It just kind of hovers around you, not quite connecting. I naively thought I could outrun it by coming up here, but apparently, it’s not possible to leave your feelings at home when you board a plane, especially when your husband—aka your problem—follows you. This new phase, of actually having to hand the kids over to Brett, is almost too brutal to bear.
Grabbing my purse, I get out of the cab of the truck and head into the diner. The restaurant is empty, so I find a booth and sit down.
Moira waves from the table she’s bussing. Once she drops a load of dishes into a bussing tub, she comes over to me and sits down. “Honey, it sounds like you had some excitement this morning. It’s all the boys could talk about when they came in for lunch.”
“I’d almost forgotten about the bear,” I tell her. My mind has been fully on my idiot husband showing up.
As if reading my mind, she says, “They also mentioned Brett.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand. Giving it a squeeze, she says, “I’m sorry. That can’t be easy.”
If anyone knows how hard life can be, it’s Moira. Raising three kids on her own while working crazy hours at her diner, I can’t even imagine. “I shouldn’t complain. It’s not like I’m the first woman who’s gone through this.”
“You know the problem is with us strong gals?” she asks while leaning back. Before I can answer, she tells me, “We’re constantly telling ourselves that we shouldn’t complain. We shouldn’t feel bad. We shouldn’t be human. It’s all a load of horse poop, if you ask me.” She slaps her hands against the tabletop hard. “We have got to cut ourselves some slack occasionally.”
“Call me crazy,” I tell her, “but I get the feeling you don’t practice what you preach.”
She laughs bitterly. “No time. But I promise you, when the twins go off to college, I’m going to close the diner for a month and let myself have the biggest pity party that’s ever been.”
“That seems like a long time to wait. What do you say we have that girls’ night we were talking about and feel sorry for ourselves tonight?”
Nodding her head, she strolls over to the door and turns over the “Closed” sign. “Let’s do it.” She walks over to the kitchen window and tells her cook, “I closed up a few minutes early, Lloyd. Go home to your wife and I’ll see you in the morning.”
She comes back to me. “Let’s go over to my place. That way I can put some supper on the table for the kids and give them at least a sense that they have a parent left.” She takes off her apron and throws it on the counter.
“I can’t even imagine how hard it is to raise the boys on your own. You’re doing a great job though. They’re good kids.”
“It’s sure not the childhood I wanted for them,” she says, opening the front door for me.
I wonder again what co-parenting with Brett will look like. It’s my guess he’ll make the time he spends with our kids one big party while I’m left with the job of actually raising them to be decent human beings. “Should I follow you?” I ask.
“I usually walk to work, so I’ll ride with you, if you don’t mind,” Moira says while heading to the truck. Once we’re in the cab, she adds, “So, did that brother of mine drive you crazy?”
I’m not sure how exactly she means that, so I kind of stumble over my response. “Um … no? I mean … I don’t know. No, I mean no.” Good lord.
“So, no?” She laughs loudly.
“He really went above and beyond for us and I’m very grateful. He’s wonderful with the kids.” What else can I say without tipping my hand that I kissed the guy?
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.
There is only one hybrid fae in existence, and that dishonor goes to Lane Callaghan.
After a life spent dodging slurs, threats, and assassination attempts, Lane gave her past the one finger salute and ditched her former fae home for good. The detective agency she and her sisters run on the edge of Las Vegas continues to limp along, with Lane doing more debt collecting and intimidating than investigating, but anything to pay the bills. Between working for low-lifes to bring down even lower-lifes, eating cheesy poofs by the bucket, and flirting with the criminally attractive bartender where she conducts business, life is good.
That ends when a routine job goes sideways, leaving Lane with a sack full of stolen sun shards—the source of sun fae power. Without the shards, the sun fae face giving up their magic completely, or risk death if they use their power. Considering they would rather see her dead, good riddance, as far as Lane’s concerned—except her father and adopted sister are sun fae. Lane must choose—return home to save the fae bastards that almost killed her, or let them burn.
The salty, buttery scent of popcorn filled the house. My favorite soft blankets were piled on the plaid sofa I refused to part with. On the television screen, unnaturally beautiful men and women wearing barely there beach attire and drinking champagne were frozen mid-toast on some tropical beach. My sisters’ bantering voices floated in from the kitchen. Something tugged in my chest, and I blew out a shaky breath. Stars, I didn’t deserve them, and I’d spend every day making sure they never regretted following me from Ta’Vale.
I padded across the wooden floors to the river rock fireplace where the broken arm of the sundial hung above the mantle. My pulse thumped in the base of my throat. Iola said she carried me to my family. I’d never considered what my family suffered seeing me unconscious, impaled on a four-foot length of petrified wood.
Reaching up, I traced the bright red streaks of my lifeblood preserved beneath a thick layer of clear shellac. After the accident, I wouldn’t let them throw it away, and I wouldn’t let them clean it. Instead, I’d insisted on having resin laid over the evidence of my almost-death. Never forget.
They call me monster, but it’s monsters who haunt my nightmares, hands slamming into my back, the inexorable tilt over the side of the sun bridge, the moment of breathlessness when my feet still touched something solid as my body fought the inevitable grip of gravity. The screaming wind against my face, and the ground below rushing to greet me.
The microwave door banged. Seconds later came a curse, and I winced as a piece of our dishware shattered on the floor.
“Y’sindra! Those bowls are too big for you,” Mae screeched. “That’s two this week. I swear I’m replacing everything with plastic.”
“No, it’s not too big, the counter’s slippery.” Their bickering voices overlapped one another, shoving the bitter memories to the back of my brain. I took a deep breath. It was good to be home.
S.L. Choi is an urban fantasy author with a deep love for humor, fast-paced action, and hit-you-in-the-heart feels. She grew up imagining goblins living in the rocks outside her bedroom window, while fairies flew through the flowers. Now she puts those stories to paper. When not writing, she is either photographing the beautiful New England area, hiking, gaming with her equally nerdy husband, or attending to the small furry overlords who rule them both.
No place is safe anymore, and I’m on the run from something new.
The putrid stink of zombies has been replaced by sulfur, feces, and wet dog. The High Point Inn has been abandoned, the landscape plagued by the unimaginable, animal-hybrids. Wolves and bears rise from the grave or maybe they never died. Sure, the hordes of undead humans are diminishing, but whatever lies in wait is faster, smarter, and spurned by the devil himself.
With Caleb, Lilly, and Eric at my side, I search for friends and suFictiorvivors. But the new evil has arrived.
I can’t run quick enough.
The wolves are here, and they’re hungry, not to mention cunning and cruel. Endless rains force my group underground and into a cave system. Lost in the interminable, pitch-black subterranean tunnels, I struggle to keep my sanity and my life. There’s only one place in the world that makes sense anymore, and that’s where my friends are.
If I can survive the dark and the zombie wolves, Hopewell, Maine, here I come.
“It’s really dark. The flashlights don’t even make a dent,” Lilly said. “Let’s hope the batteries last.”
“Stay here for a second.” Caleb strode forward, leaving the rest of the group huddled in inky black‐ ness. “I can see it narrows ahead. Let me check it out. Don’t want us all to go stumbling around in the dark.” Caleb’s footsteps receded, taking the shadows of the flashlight beam with him.
Jenna bit her thumb nail. It tasted of dirt but the small pain from ripping off her flesh stifled her fear for Caleb. Relief flooded in waves when his voice preceded the watery beam from the flashlight.
“It’s a tight squeeze for about a hundred feet before it opens into a chamber. And it appears the underground river Lilly mentioned might be waiting for us too.” Caleb passed the beam of light over them.
A soft rumble, like a swarm of bees, echoed in the tunnel behind them.
“What the . . .” Eric’s words trailed off.
A cascade of rolling rocks had Jenna hopping forward. “Move!”
“Cave in.” Eric’s words bounced around like ricocheting pebbles.
Jenna ran deeper into the tunnel. Pain lanced her arm, a sharp rock ripping through her clothing and snagging her backpack. She stumbled, the rock bouncing away, and righted herself. Heart thudding, loud in the chaos entombing her, she sprinted, coughing up dirt.
Lilly twisted her flashlight. “Eric?”
“Help.” His voice diminished, dim as their surroundings. Muffled swearing and the thump of rock clashing hit the air. “I’m stuck!”
“Calm down,” Caleb said. “You’ll be okay. We’re coming back.”
“I can’t see anything. I’m not okay. I can’t move. Something’s coming. It’s behind me.”
“Be calm, Eric,” Lilly crooned. “They’re not coming. Take a deep breath.”
Eric huffed, coughed, and huffed again. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t breathe. They’re coming.”
“Stop. I’m here. Listen to me.” Lilly’s flashlight lit Eric’s face. She put a hand to his cheek. “You’re good.”
“I can’t move, and they’re coming. Not again. Not another time like the movie theater. I won’t survive. I’d rather be dead than stuck and defenseless. They’ll rip me apart. Don’t let it happen.”
Jenna moved close. “Eric, look at me. The most horrible thing that could have happened to you is over. Done. You survived. There are no Streakers here. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
“I can’t.”
“You can, and you will,” Jenna scolded. “For Lilly and me. We need you.”
Lilly aimed her flashlight into the shadows behind Eric. “Can you slip out of your backpack?”
“Maybe? My leg. I think I’m bleeding.” Eric shifted sideways, grunting. After a few lunges, he stumbled forward minus his pack. “Free.”
Lilly hauled Eric in for a hug. “Told ya so. Never doubt me.”
Caleb tugged the backpack. “It’s stuck on something.” He heaved but it didn’t budge. “Maybe we can twist it. Hold this.” He handed the flashlight to Jenna.
Redirecting the beam, the light hit the cave ceiling. Bats exploded, sinking low. Caleb hugged Jenna against him. She threw her arms above her head, hugged her scalp in hopes of protection. The draft of bats lifted after a minute and they spiraled high, consumed by the funnel-shaped black chasm.
Caleb stepped back and tugged on Jenna’s jacket, arms still protective. “Please tell me you’re not going to adopt a wounded bat, tame it, and bring it along.”
“I’ll pass, but where is our dog?” Jenna twisted away. “Louie? I hope the bats didn’t scare him.”
A warm tongue licked her hand. “There you are. Good boy.”
Lisa Acerbo is a high school teacher and adjunct faculty at a local community college. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, daughters, two dogs, and horse. When not writing, she mountain bikes, hikes, and fosters dogs.
As myths, legends, and ancient tales rise from the shadows, these heroes and heroines are left to face the darkest challenges of them all.
Life’s hard enough as a paranormal. Shifters, vampire, elementals, witches, fae… we all have our weakness, our curses, our wars to wage and battles to fight. But being a hybrid or a halfling, things just get worse. We don’t fit in anywhere, our powers are thwarted or out of control, and everyone wants us dead. Can we overcome these trials…or are the odds stacked too high against us? We’ll risk it all—even our lives—to find out. And hope we don’t die trying. This paranormal and urban fantasy romance anthology includes 19 brand new, never before published novels from today’s bestselling authors and exciting up-and-coming talent! Including all new stories by…. Kira Nyte Fiona McArthur Renee Hewett & Mandy Rosko Cassidy K. O’Connor & Sheri Lyn Krista Ames Stephanie Hansen Mia Ellas Ryan Southwick C.A. King Charlie Nottingham Emma B. Layne Mireille Chester Ruby St. George K. Rea Cherron Riser Marissa Nofer Shana Vernon Victoria C. Taylor Here’s a peek of what’s inside!
Nora would do anything to protect her sister and avoid the Pit—even take a deal from the one archangel she despises. – The Archangel’s Deal by K. Rea All she wanted was to find the guy terrorizing Midtown; instead, she found a magical underground war going on right under our noses. – A Fire Awakens by Mireille Chester A college freshman turned rumored chosen one must save her university when an ancient demon returns and possesses one of their own. – Faust University by Emma B. Layne A vigilante hell-bent on revenge, a reincarnated angel in a fragile human body, and a mission to right the wrongs of the past. What could go wrong? Turn out, everything. – The Angel’s Fury by Mandy Rosko and Renee Hewett … and many more!
