The first in the Lagos Lovin’ series about an ambitious young junior architect fighting her attraction to an elusive but charming online bestie.
“It’s impossible to have a male bestie and not have sex with them.”
A viral tweet leads to an online friendship between junior architect, Zoya, and charming elusive Manir. He becomes the virtual shoulder she cries on regarding her love-hate relationship with Lagos until a bout of food poisoning heralds their first real life date.
Margaret Adetimehin, also known as Camaa Pearl, is an international bestselling author and storyteller with a refreshingly unique style that borders between reality and fiction. As a true ambivert, when she is not reading or writing, she enjoys traveling, good food, and behavioral research.
She is not married with kids and dogs, but if you sign up for her newsletters via bit.ly/margaretadetimehin, you’ll be one of the first to know. She blogs on her website, margaretadetimehin.com
One night. Two futures. Almost three years of repair. Four beating hearts healing from pain. Five lives forever tied.
Falling for my boss, Damon Dreygon, was never part of the plan.
I was meant to seek from him what my boyfriend, Harvey Stark, refused to give me–someone to kiss me, someone to touch me, and maybe even someone to heal my wounds.
Instead in Damon, I found a mentor. I found a dark prince minus the charming part. Most importantly, in Damon, I found my voice coupled with my own strength.
This was never supposed to hurt Harvey. Damon and I were never meant to be together.
With each choice, an entirely different future greets me, yet a few things remain the same: we’ve all known pain, we’re all in need of healing, and we’ve all hurt each other in very different ways.
All I wanted was for this melancholy to disappear so that I could find peace.
But peace is hard to reach when you’re too busy chasing secrets.
Secrets I wish would’ve stayed buried. Secrets that meddle with my dreams. Secrets I’ll be taking to the grave . . .
M . H . B . graduated law from a Canadian University. She loves spending time with her partner and her German Shepherd Dog. She has a passion for animals and enjoys the simple things in life: books, music, chocolate, sunny days, and overall wellness. When she is not writing, her mind is in another world, with a book in hand.
I get only a glimpse of the woman in the window before the curtains fall back into place and she disappears, but the image of her is seared onto my retinas.
Dark hair, red lips, olive skin.
A black, low-cut dress.
Acres of cleavage.
And eyes that glittered silver in the afternoon sun like the flash of coins at the bottom of a wishing well.
She can’t be Liliana, the lass I’m here to meet. I’ve seen pictures of her. She has a sweet, innocent face. A shy, lovely smile.
The woman in the window looks like she’d only smile if she were slitting your throat.
Mindful of the armed guards, I say in Gaelic to Kieran, “I thought the lass’s mother died?”
Standing beside me, he follows my gaze and looks up at the blank window.
“Aye. Why?”
“Who else lives here?”
He shrugs. “Dunno. From the size of the bloody place, probably a thousand people.”
She’s not a servant, that much I know. There wasn’t a hint of servitude in those flashing eyes.
She looked more like a warlord about to lead an army of soldiers into battle.
“This way,” says the guard nearest to me. He nods toward an arched opening in the brick wall that leads from the circular driveway into an interior courtyard.
Dismissing the thought of the mystery woman, I button my suit jacket and follow behind the guard as he leads Kieran and me away from the car. The other guard walks behind us. We’re led through the lushly landscaped courtyard to a set of enormous carved oak doors, flanked on either side by towering marble columns.
The main house looms over us, three sprawling stories of beige limestone with elaborate balustrades and scrolled iron balconies, topped by a line of Roman centurion statues gazing down at us from a ledge on the red-tiled roof.
Inside the main foyer, the décor becomes even more ostentatious.
Naked cherubs frolic with hairy satyrs and woodland nymphs in colorful frescoes on the walls. Instead of one drop-crystal chandelier overhead, there are three. The floor is black marble, the carved mahogany furniture is edged in gilt, and my eyes are starting to water from the kaleidoscope glare of stained-glass windows.
Under his breath, Kieran says, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Looks like Liberace hurled his lunch all over the bloody place.”
He’s right. It’s fucking awful.
I have to force myself not to turn around and walk out.
“Ah, Mr. Quinn!”
I turn to my right. A man approaches with his hands spread open in greeting.
He’s fit, of average height, and somewhere around forty. His dark hair is slicked back with pomade. Wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit I can tell is custom made, a powder blue tie with a diamond tie pin, a chunky diamond watch, and a gold pinky ring on each hand, he oozes wealth, privilege, and power.
His cologne reaches me before he does.
His smile is blinding.
I hate him on sight.
“Mr. Caruso, I presume.”
He grabs one of my hands in both of his and pumps it up and down like he’s a political candidate campaigning for my vote.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”
He hasn’t stopped grinning or shaking my hand.
Ten more seconds of this shite, and I’ll break those Chiclet teeth of his.
“This is my associate, Mr. Byrne.” I extract my hand from Caruso’s death grip and gesture to Kieran, who inclines his head respectfully.
“Sir.”
“Mr. Byrne, welcome. And please, both of you, call me Gianni. I prefer if we’re all on a first name basis, don’t you?”
I’d rather blind myself with acid, you wanker.
Kieran politely offers his name. I offer nothing. There’s an awkward pause while Caruso waits, but he gets the hint and suggests we retire to his study to speak in private.
After what feels like a death march through miles of echoing corridors, we arrive at the study. It’s probably larger than the law library at Notre Dame. We sit across from Caruso in a pair of leather chairs so uncomfortable, they had to be designed by sadists.
I haven’t been here ten minutes, and I’m already regretting the fuck out of this.
Until she walks in the door.
Dark hair, red lips, olive skin.
A black, low-cut dress.
Acres of cleavage.
Not only cleavage, but long legs and an hourglass figure that would make any man stupid with lust. If he wasn’t too busy being turned to stone by the ice in her eyes, that is. I’ve never seen an attractive serial killer, but I bet this is exactly what she’d look like.
J.T. Geissinger is a #1 internationally bestselling author of twenty-seven novels. Ranging from funny, feisty rom coms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold over five million copies and been translated into more than a dozen languages.
She is a three-time nominee in both contemporary and paranormal romance for the RITA® Award, the highest distinction in romance fiction from the Romance Writers of America®. She is also a recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book and the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy.
She’s a Southern California native currently living in Nevada with her husband and rescue kitty, Zoe.
Margot’s unhappiness is contrary to what you might expect, considering that she lives in Paris and is married to a handsome, successful man she loves. However, as time passes, she feels more certain about her emptiness and realizes how little time her husband Arthur has for her. Finally, she decides to leave him, but then something changes. Not only does Margot not know her husband as well as she thought she did, but she also comes to see that she didn’t even know herself that deeply.
Margot’s life starts changing when she discovers countless new things about her marriage, which also reawakens old traumas.
But have these signs always been there?
Has Margot’s journey been waiting for her long before she became aware of it, and can her marriage be saved?
Margot is surprised to discover Arthur knew her much better than she ever thought possible.
Title: Love Reunited Author: Tara Taffera Series: A Divine Love #3 Genre: Contemporary Christian Romance
Elizabeth Carlson turns heads wherever she goes but has never moved on from Tyler Williams, with whom she shared a whirlwind relationship her senior year of high school. After only a month together, Elizabeth ran away from her past and her broken family. Ten years later, Tyler comes crashing back in her life, eager for a second chance. But she can’t forgive him for the order he issued all those years ago. Slowly, a high school romance turns into so much more, but her secrets, and his anger, threaten to ruin their happily ever after. Will God’s grace and love lead them back to each other?
Tara Taffera is an avid reader and the author of A Divine Love Series. She writes contemporary Christian romance enveloped in God’s grace and love. Book two in her series, Love Unfailing, won the silver medal in the 2022 Illumination Book Awards in the romance category. The program shines a light on Exemplary Christian Books. Love Unfailing was also a semi-finalist in the Indies Today Awards.
She lives in Virginia with her husband of almost 25 years, a non-reader himself who provides valuable advice on her books—all those baseball scenes! He is one of her biggest cheerleaders, along with her three daughters.
You can find Tara on all the major social media platforms, and her books are available on Amazon. Learn more about her at tarataffera.com.
Title: Unworthy Author: M. Jameson Series: St Judes Rules #2 Genre: Dark Contemporary Romance
My blood runs crimson, a contrast to my obsidian soul. Darkness swims through my veins. Carnage wreaks havoc within me. I was raised by monsters, so I became one. My pleasure comes from inflicting pain. My only aphrodisiac is tears. Until the woman with honey eyes, and fire in her soul, Becomes my obsession. I kept my distance as long as I could. She’s the daughter of my enemies after all. But she’s the gambit I never saw coming. Fueled by lust, hatred, and dishonor, the plan was to manipulate her until she broke, in all the ways good things should. But plans seldom go as they should. How the hell did I get tricked, in my own wicked game?
A FATAL AFFAIR LEADS TO THE UNRAVELING OF DARK AND DANGEROUS SECRETS. SECRETS THAT COULD SHAKE A FAMILY TO THE CORE. THE DARKNESS IS ALL LARKEN KNEW, UNTIL HER. THE ONE WOMAN HE WANTED MORE THAN ANYTHING, BUT COULD NEVER HAVE. SHE’S ALL HE DESIRES, AND ALL HE’LL NEVER BE WORTHY OF.
“This isn’t your world Roxanne, and you have one chance to leave. When we’re in there, you’re mine to use.”
“Then use me,” I say bravely. The room is lit in black light, and the further I walk into the space, the smaller it seems.
“No-one can hear you scream. No-one can help you. It’s just you, me and my demons.
“I want to play with your demons,” I say breathlessly, the closer he gets to me.
He pushes me against the glass holding my hands painfully behind my back. “Just outside the window are men and women craving to watch what I’m about to do to you.”
M Jameson enjoys writing steamy, taboo, and forbidden stories. Sometimes dark, sometimes angsty, but sexiness and HEA (albeit not conventional) guaranteed. Jameson loves to delve into the hard topics and pushing the limits, so if you’re looking for escapism and like your boundaries crushed, she’s your go-to.
A living weapon. An attack on the laws of reality. One chance to save the world.
Michael Bishop is a man who never dreams, who never gets ill. He lives his entire life oblivious to the truths hidden from him.
He is a tool in the hand of the most powerful organization on Earth.
Michael’s world transforms when They bring him online- when They activate the mysterious technology buried within his skull.
Then, the lies fall away. He becomes Asset 108. Using intricate technology, he defends humanity from the gibbering, tentacled horrors that haunt our world.
When mysterious renegades fracture the very laws of nature, Asset 108 is put into position. As the world begins to unravel, a cabal of madmen with physics shattering powers hunt 108 and his cadre, driving them into an alternate reality— a realm filled with inhuman horror.
Between otherworldly arachnids, muscled brutes infected with psionic parasites, and depraved cultists, grisly deaths lurk behind Michael’s every choice.
I slunk to the side of one of the creatures, determined to be slow and cautious. The emitter might not mask sound in this bizarre place.
I count six remaining, Michael, Anya informed me.
Five. I slipped up behind one, the kinetic disruptor centimeters from its skull. I fired, sending a sharp siiiiuu sound keening through the cavern.
Less than a second later, bits of brain and skull sprayed over one of its fellows, who roared in uncomprehending terror.
As the corpse fell, I saw the tendrils writhe within the body, madly squirming beneath the flesh.
That aside, there’s something else here… something inside them. The link conveyed my revulsion.
Copy that, Bishop. Awe and disgust filled Wyatt’s link. I can see it in one over here. It’s like thick cables running through them, just below their skin. It’s— He broke off, and I felt him retch. It’s… it’s moving! Wriggling.
Assets. Anya’s crisp link came across almost curt. These aberrations may be host bodies for some type of phage. I felt her deliberately maintain calm as she linked. Many Irrational species seek host bodies and—
And they can go straight to hell. Wyatt recoiled at the thought. You mean like a parasite?
Exactly like that. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched coils of tendril writhe within one of the corpses. Of all the fates that could befall an Asset, forced to be a host body for such unearthly horrors seemed like one of the more horrifying.
I felt quite vulnerable.
As quietly as possible, I stepped behind one of the other behemoths and aimed both pistols at the back of its head. I didn’t know if it would stop the parasite…
I shrugged. Couldn’t hurt.
The weapons sang, siiiiuu siiiiuu.
The monstrosity’s skull cracked. It jerked twice from the force, then collapsed against the dark stone ground.
Bishop…I felt the warning in Wyatt’s link. We got four left, but they’re all over there with you.
Copy that. Now might be the time to grab your gear.
Yup. He flung the door open and ducked behind the far side of the Legacy. The movement caught the attention of one of the behemoths, which started to turn in his direction.
Nope. I took two quick steps to my right, aiming for that particular brute. Several more stood between us, and I couldn’t get a square shot.
The beast cocked his head to see if something lurked on the far side of the car.
“Hey!” I cried, knowing none of them could see where I stood. “Let’s look over here instead!”
I shot another of the creatures with my left-hand Stiletto and hit it squarely in the chest.
The blow hurled the troll-thing back over six meters where it crashed into one of the stone columns.
The remaining four roared their outrage. One of them, the smallest of the lot, stared around wildly before running off into the shadows.
They’ll hear me the moment I shoot ol’ Rosie. Wyatt opened the trunk and pulled out his gear. I can crouch over here and get suited up. But the moment I fire ’er, I’m caught.
I get it. I started to jog away from the remaining three creatures. This should be easy. Our friends here aren’t very bright. I can handle them all here in just a moment anyway.
Seems like it, Wyatt linked. As easily as you put these guys down, I might as well wait before drawing attention to myself. I’ll set the spikes when you’re finished.
I’ll get them all over here, for a start. I powered the Wraith down where I stood, a good six meters from the nearest aberration.
Um, that’s stupid, Wyatt opined.
The moment I faded into sight, the closest one snarled at me.
“Hey there, tubby.” I fired once at the ground between us, leaving a hole nearly a meter across. “Look, I’m right here. All soft and pink and small.” I grinned at it.
It roared and charged me.
I hadn’t taken into account how fast the muscled creatures might be, due to their lumbering stride and immense size. But a charging gorilla can move scarily fast, as can a stampeding bison.
This thing put those two to shame.
It cleared the six meters in what felt like a step. Like the hammer of an angry god, it swung its maul-like fist down on me.
JM Guillen was your average, everyday awesome writer just trying to make it in this modern, awful corporate dystopia. He knew he wanted to make wonderful, bizarre things, but how could he afford to make that happen? Every day, he sat about crying and drinking, trying to figure out what he could do.
THEN A RADIOACTIVE METEOR CRASHED INTO HIS BACKYARD! FROM OUTER SPACE!
While examining the fuming interstellar rock, unknowable emanations radiated into the very center of his being. These unearthly energies changed the very depths of him, granting him powers that no man can name, and no god could ever master.
Reeling from the influx of spectral energies, he stumbled back into his home, his eyes open. Now, an entire universe unfolded before him. Now, he saw the way.
HE STARTED HIS OWN EVIL PUBLISHING COMPANY!
Now, JM Guillen begins to meet AWESOME people who supported his INSANE plans. Fiendishly, he scrawls story after story, writing steampunk, dark fantasy and eldritch horror…
Two Love stories. One surviving WW2. One surviving a separation. Both fighting their own war. But neither is willing to give up. Because love is worth fighting for.
Alternating between the past and the present, The Touch of Love tells two intertwined love stories spanning generations. The first is set in modern times and tells the journey that Katie embarks on while being embroiled in a separation from her husband. The second is set in Poland during World War 2, and tells the story of Jakob, an orphan, who falls in love with a Jewish woman. Will either of these love stories survive the unforeseen battles awaiting them?
Present Day: While going thru old keepsakes in her grandfather’s attic, Katie stumbles upon two items which thrust her on a journey of discovery. The first is her old wedding dress, the sight of which still stings due to her recent separation. The second item is even more perplexing – an old black and white photograph of her grandfather during a war. The man with a deeply mysterious past. Knowing her grandfather’s days are limited, this photo sparks Katie’s journey to discover his past before his future runs out.
1939: Jakob and his brother are two carefree orphans deciding whether to join the Polish army when all of Europe is on the bring of World War 2. But Jakob’s decision is sealed the moment he meets Anna, a Jewish woman. Deciding he would rather fight for her survival than fight alongside his brother, Jakob embarks on a harrowing journey through the War, motivated solely by his unyielding love for Anna.
Can love survive the immeasurable tragedies of war?
The books in this series are standalone novels and may be read in any order.
Time is a puzzle full of fragments of moments spilled on the canvas of memory. While reflection on some moments may present that canvas as a masterpiece, other times the puzzle comes into focus for what it really is – a hazy image full of lost pieces. Too many memories are lost by time. Precious memories or mundane ones – time has no prejudice. It is an unyielding eraser all the same. And that is the simple beauty of a photograph.
A photograph is a miracle. A rollercoaster of emotion. A constant reminder of the path traveled to the present. And a window into a time which may have long passed, but which comes flooding back to the forefront once unearthed. The sounds, sights, tastes, and aromas of a single moment years ago can all instantly come alive again just because of a photograph. But even beyond this, a photograph can make a memory long forgotten feel as tangible as the photograph being held.
Katie held such a photograph in her hand as she rummaged through her grandfather’s attic. It was a time-worn photograph which any other person would have flipped through without noticing. But Katie noticed it. What the photo depicted surprised her, in more ways than one. She’d seen countless photos of her grandfather before, but they’d all been from after her mother was born. This one was different. Strikingly different. It was the oldest photo she’d ever seen of him. But even more, it showed her grandmother – revealing an unknown chapter to Katie of her grandparents’ mysterious past. The moment she saw the photograph, she knew it would lead her on a journey to not only discover her grandfather’s mysterious past, but the key to her own future as well.
Kyle Shoop is a multi-genre author of compelling stories. His new “Senses of Love” series is a romance series that provides rewarding and inspirational stories. The newest book – A TASTE OF LOVE – is now out! The books in the series may be read in any order.
Kyle is also the author of the Acea Bishop Trilogy, which is an action-packed fantasy series. All books in that series are now available, with Acea and the Animal Kingdom being the first book.
At a young age, Kyle was recognized for his storytelling by being awarded the first-place Gold Key award for fiction writing in Washington State. After spending several years volunteering in his wife’s elementary classrooms, he was inspired to write the Acea Bishop Trilogy. He is now motivated to share the compelling stories in his new romance series. In addition to writing novels, Kyle is also an attorney.
Title: Ice Floe Author: Melissa Birling Series: Ice Floe Series #1 Genre: Young Adult Fantasy Romance
SECRECY IS SAFETY. SISTERHOOD IS EVERYTHING.
Seventeen-year-old Glacia didn’t plan to track a kidnapper, stick a middle finger to the government, and fall into a forbidden summer fling. This is simply what happens when you’re the resident odd girl out, in a shoal of all-female mermaids whose values are a little cracked. Or a lot cracked, if you consider government-endorsed murder and the seizure of male infants to be an issue.
When society rules, family, and romance collide, Glacia fights back the best way she knows how: by taking the matter into her own combat-trained hands and kicking some tail. The problem is, no amount of training can prepare Glacia for the crime circle she discovers, secrets she unveils, and human guy she can’t get out of her head. Glacia finds herself at a crossroads where she must decide whose rules to follow. Who she can trust. And ultimately…who lives and who dies.
Melissa Birling strives to experience life from a “both and” rather than “either or” perspective. She enjoys living in metropolitan cities and on a small farm. She appreciates burn-your-tongue Mexican cuisine and delicious London pub food. Lately, Melissa spends her time engaging with cyber security professionals and mermaids. Not actual mermaids, although if you know any, she’d love to meet them.
The revelation that one can be both a successful corporate consultant and a fantasy author who writes about mermaids, encouraged Melissa to finish her debut novel, Ice Floe. The emotional high of typing “The End” at the completion of her first draft, triggered a writing spree that hasn’t stopped since. On any given Saturday or Sunday, you will find Melissa writing. She won’t respond to any attempts at human engagement, because she’s “at a good part,” but you’ll find her typing away, nevertheless.
Melissa lives with a ceaselessly supportive husband and their dog who enjoys hunting neighborhood skunks.
Exes working together in a wedding business? What could go wrong?
EVIE Having inappropriate dreams about my ex-husband is problematic. The fact that he’s applied to be the business partner in my wedding business – and is an infuriatingly savvy businessman – is even more so.
Our marriage ended because we were both more married to our jobs than each other, but now I can barely look at Lincoln without imagining him naked. How the hell am I supposed to work with him?
LINCOLN My ex-wife, Evie – aka Evil (thank you, random autocorrect) – runs the most successful bridal shop in the whole of the Finger Lakes region and she needs a business partner. Happy coincidence because I need a steady income. ASAP.
I also need to stop noticing Evie’s curves. And her smile. And everything about her that makes me want a second chance.
“I think you’re blowing it out of proportion,” Gage says as he dips another fry in ketchup. “You were married to the woman. Naturally you’re going to be affected by her.”
“I was married to her. Was being the key word. We’ve been divorced for four years and I haven’t exactly lived the life of a monk.” I shake my head at my brother across the wide wooden table. “This felt different.”
“Look, it’s not like you jumped her from across the desk or anything, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.” Gage’s been saying some version of this since I brought up my unexpected reaction to Evie earlier. Our waitress at Donnelly’s had already brought us a beer and I thought hiding behind a pint would make it easier for me to pretend it was no big deal. Turns out I’m terrible at pretending, and Gage can see through me like I’m a plastic shower curtain in a girl’s dorm. “Besides, you’re the one who keeps saying this is business, it’s not personal. Just make sure to keep it professional.”
“You’re right.” It’s easier said than done, because between Evie’s sex dream and my inconvenient hard-on, it feels very personal. “I need to keep my eye on the prize.”
“Get involved with her again at your peril,” says Gage, taking another French fry. “We’ve called her Evil for a reason.”
“I called her Evil because of a random autocorrect.” A random autocorrect turned into bad joke my and brothers ran with it.
“Hey, if the shoe fits…” Gage shrugs.
“I was bitter and angry she didn’t fight for us, but neither did I.” I take a swallow of my beer then drop my voice as I say, “It was self-preservation on both of our parts.”
“The old, ‘it’s not me, it’s you’ scenario?” Gage puts his elbow on the wooden table. His hair is too long and flopping over his eyes, but he just blows it out of the way and says, “Look, man, if you don’t think you can do this, we’ll come up with something else. Evil’s not the only way we’re going to be able to pay Dad’s medical bills.”
“Isn’t she? What else do you suggest? I guess we could take turns selling plasma, but I don’t know what the requirements are for selling bodily fluids. I’ll have to check.”
“I can talk to my boss at work and see if I can pick up some extra shifts. Maybe it’s time to give up the farmer’s market for a little while? Cake a Diem can wait.” Gage shrugs like saying those words doesn’t make him die a little inside. His job as a produce manager at Wegman’s, the local supermarket, is great, but it’s as far from his dream job as you can get. The only reason he’s kept the job as long as he has is for the store discount so he can buy baking supplies. I convinced him to create a name for his business, complete with a banner and business cards, and judging by the amount of time he spent picking the perfect font for his banner, he’s way more into it than his day job.
“You just started Cake a Diem. You can’t throw in the towel on it before you’ve gotten the name out there.” I shake my head. “I’m the one who’s unemployed. If anyone’s going to take one for the team, it’s going to be me.”
“So, what? You’re going to get back on a plane and live out of a suitcase again?” Gage finishes the last fry with a flourish. “Maybe finding another consulting gig is viable as a short-term solution, but what about when Dad’s able to get out a little bit? The first thing he’s going to want to do is go fishing and someone’s going to have to go with him. Let’s face it, it really needs to be you.”
Gage and I both laugh. Our father is an avid fisherman and, try as he might to get his sons to enjoy his hobby, we all hate it. I just happen to hate it less than Eli and Gage do. “Bennett’s Bridal it is then,” I say. “I’ll make it work.”
Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and
Brenda is a USA Today bestselling author living in the English countryside. Originally from New York, she’s lived in the UK long enough to gain dual citizenship, but still doesn’t understand Celsius. However, she has learned the appropriate use of the word “pants”. And how to order a proper bacon bap/barm/buttie. Because, well, bacon.
Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and reading. In theory, she also enjoys cooking, but it’s more that she enjoys eating and, try as she might, she can’t live on Doritos alone.
