Jake I’ve been searching for Mrs. Plaid Man my whole life, but I always miss out. I’m the Big Slick, so close to winning, but another hand always wins. I’m too slow to react. That’s how I missed out on a relationship with Lindsey, and part of the reason I had to move to this small town. But now I think I’ve finally found her. But she doesn’t seem to remember me, no matter how many times I talk to her. And let me tell you, there’s only so many times a man can get his ass kicked by a woman.
I’m a stay at home mom that loves to read. Some of my favorite titles are Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Horatio Hornblower. I started writing when I was trying to come up with suggestions on ways I could help bring in some extra money. I came up with the idea that I could donate plasma because you could earn an extra $500/month. My husband responded with, “No. Find something else. Write a blog. Write a book.” I didn’t think I had anything to share on blog that a thousand other mothers hadn’t already thought of. I decided to take his challenge seriously and sat down to write my first book, Jack. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing. From there, the stories continued to flow and I haven’t been able to stop. I hope my readers enjoy my books as much as I enjoy writing them. Between reading, writing, and taking care of three small kids, my days are quite full.
Title: The Final Play Author: Amie Knight Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
As a professional linebacker, I lived and breathed football.
The only thing I loved as much as the game was my twin brother, Max, who kept me almost as busy cleaning up his messes.
The most recent of which landed him behind bars.
So, it shouldn’t have surprised me when a beautiful woman showed up on my doorstep, claiming to be pregnant with Max’s baby.
Glory was unexpected, infuriating, and flat-out crazy most of the time.
But no matter how hard I tried to deny it, that tiny spitfire slammed into my boring life with the strength of a Category 5 hurricane, blowing through my defenses until she’d carved her name in my heart—permanently.
I feared we would never work. She was a single mom, my brother’s ex, and one more chance for me to fail yet another person I loved.
But if football was my church, then Glory was my heaven.
He was the best man I’d ever known and I couldn’t have him. I probably didn’t deserve him, anyway.
Tears flooded my eyes and I paid the cashier as fast as possible before practically running behind the buggy to get to my car. I loaded the groceries, tears trailing my cheeks.
I didn’t even bother to wipe them away. This whole situation was sad. It deserved my tears. Every damn one of them. Because Mason and Glory could never be.
It would be weird and wrong. What the hell would we even tell people? How would we explain? And how would Max feel? I had a feeling it wasn’t good at all.
I climbed into the front seat of my car and held on to my steering wheel for dear life. And sobbed. And then when I was done sobbing , I beat the shit out of that steering wheel and then the dashboard.
Because life wasn’t fair. It just fucking wasn’t and again and again it just kept throwing me punch after punch. How long was I supposed to still stay standing? I felt like this might be the final punch and it was a knockout. Because I had a feeling that Mason Stark was my person. And I couldn’t even have him.
Amie Knight has been a reader for as long as she could remember and a romance lover since she could get her hands on her momma’s books. A dedicated wife and mother with a love of music and makeup, she won’t ever be seen leaving the house without her eyebrows and eyelashes done just right. When she isn’t reading and writing, you can catch her jamming out in the car with her two kids to ’90s R&B, country, and showtunes. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina, and can’t imagine living anywhere other than the South.
At the age of seventeen, Skye Thorpe lost her parents and yearns for a family of her own, and she’s certain Ethan Connor is the one to give it to her. After all, they’ve been together for seven years. One night, she broaches the subject of marriage and learns the devastating truth. Ethan has no intention of marrying her.
Ethan married young and learned the hard way what it was like to be betrayed by the person he loved. After a bitter divorce, he promised himself he would never allow another woman to wreck his life again. So when Skye mentions marriage, he quickly shuts her down.
To get the life she craves, Skye has no choice but to end the relationship and walk away. But can she really walk away, if Ethan won’t let her go?
“Okay, Ethan, if we do go on vacation, we need to take a real vacation. You can’t be on the phone half the time. You have to cut off communication with your office and relax.”
“Sweetheart, I run a multibillion-dollar company with offices around the world and thousands of employees. I’m in the middle of a sensitive deal in China, and although phase one of the Horizon development is nearing completion, problems crop up every couple of weeks. I can’t go off the grid.” Considering the conversation over, he took a sip of coffee.
“Yes, you can.” Skye rested her arms on the table, her dark eyes steady as they locked with his. “At least, you should be able to. Otherwise, why do all of this? What’s the point if you can’t take a one-week break every now and again? So maybe you miss a phone call and lose a few thousand dollars. Maybe even a few million. So what? You have millions more and your whole company won’t collapse. Wrap up your most important projects before we go, and leave the rest to your employees. If you did your job right, they should be able to survive a week without you. If they can’t, then you either didn’t hire the right people, or you didn’t train them well. Either way, the fault is yours, and you need to get your shit together.”
Quiet descended on the table, the only sound the buzz of conversations and utensils scraping the plates around them. Skye bit the corner of her mouth—as if she said too much—but didn’t drop her gaze.
“How long have you been waiting to say that?” Ethan swallowed another mouthful of coffee.
She sat up straight and shrugged one shoulder. “A while.”
Ethan took her hand on the table and threaded their fingers together. Her fingers were so soft, like the rest of her body, and her nails painted a deep wine color.
“You’re right. We should have time away without distractions.”
“Really?” An immediate sparkle came into her eyes, and she perked up.
A twinge of guilt landed in Ethan’s chest. Had he really been so ignorant of her desire for a business-free trip? Why hadn’t she revealed her concerns before?
“Of course. If that’s what you want.”
“Where are we going to go?” she asked.
“You decide,” Ethan said, feeling indulgent.
“Are you sure you want me to do that?” she asked playfully, and his heart rate ticked up a bit faster. For the first time in days, their relationship edged closer to normal.
“Pick a country you’ve always wanted to see, and that’s where we’ll go.”
A smile of pleasure touched her lips, and the sight of her happiness warmed deep inside his chest. He would give her anything she asked for to keep that expression on her face—well, almost anything. For a millisecond, his gaze dropped to her left hand, fingers still intertwined with his. There had been no mention again of getting married or a ring, but the wall between them remained—as thin as rice paper, but a wall nonetheless.
“Let’s go somewhere off the beaten path. No luxury hotels. Just a beach and warm weather,” Skye suggested.
“Sounds like you already have a place in mind.”
“Belize. When you went there on business a couple of years ago, you told me it was a beautiful country with friendly people, and how you wished you’d had more time to spend there. I looked at travel sites to see about taking a trip at some point, but I stopped my research because you’ve been so busy the past couple of years.”
“I would like to see more of the country than I did when I was there last. Belize it is, then. Get with Layla, and the two of you can plan the trip,” Ethan said.
“And you’ll wrap up all your major projects, so we can relax and have a real vacation?” she asked.
How bad had he been that she needed to insist?
“You have my word.”
For the first time in weeks, the smile on her lips matched the smile in her eyes, and the lurking darkness disappeared. He lifted her palm to his mouth and watched her eyes darken with desire. Maybe tonight he’d experience those soft fingers on his skin and those red nails raking his back. If not tonight, very soon.
Delaney Diamond is the USA Today Bestselling Author of sensual, passionate romance novels, and was born and raised in the U.S. Virgin Islands. She reads romance novels, mysteries, thrillers, and a fair amount of nonfiction. When she’s not busy reading or writing, she’s in the kitchen trying out new recipes, dining at one of her favorite restaurants, or traveling to an interesting locale. To get sneak peeks, notices of sale prices, and find out about new releases, visit her website and join her mailing list. Enjoy free stories on her website at www.delaneydiamond.com.
I was the winner—and the envy of many. What I didn’t realize is that I was a pawn in a game I’d already lost…
It isn’t every day a dying girl wins the chance to live. Ten years ago, I was that girl. The first winner of the vampire lottery. And my prize? A new life as a bloodsucker.
No one told me that winning the lottery would cost me everyone I loved. But I still have Dimitry—I only have Dimitry—the sexy, inscrutable, Russian vampire who saved me from certain death. My protector. For a hot minute, there was a spark between us until it fizzled to a barely glowing ember.
Now Dimitry and I have been summoned from Moscow to the politics and the cruelty of vampire-controlled Las Vegas right when the city is going to pot. I swore I would never return to a place I will only ever be a pawn, but the alternative is much worse. Deadly.
I’m nothing there. Small-fry. But maybe it’s time I changed that.
“If you’re not meeting gangsters, then where are you going?”
“To make some preparations.”
I wait, but apparently, that’s all I’m getting. “More, Dimitry. I need more words,” I tell him, with my eyes still closed and my head resting on the side of the Jacuzzi-style bath.
“For a new challenge. Perhaps some excitement.”
I prick up my ears. “Sounds interesting. What’s the catch?”
There must be one. It feels too much like Dimitry is tempting me into doing something I won’t like. He’s already noticed I’m bored. But here is safe. A little empty and meaningless, but safe. Nothing can take Dimitry away from me here.
“No catch. But there will be no more need for Russian lessons, for one.”
“You know full well I didn’t even make it through a week of those, never mind ten years. Now, what are you hiding? What preparations are you making?”
“For a trip filled with adventure. Perhaps you may receive some answers to questions I haven’t been able to answer over the years.”
That’s when every single alarm bell starts going off because he’s using terms he knows will grab and hold my attention. They’re all there: excitement, adventure, and the biggest hook to lure me—answers to questions.
He also sounds like he’s been reading fortune cookies. That or stealing the lines from some cryptic psychic with dangly earrings and a colorful scarf in her hair.
Maybe that’s where he’s been going on his errands: visiting psychics.
“You’re not telling me everything, Dimitry,” I say, in a voice filled with suspicion. “What are you hiding?”
“Since Russia bores you, perhaps it’s time we returned to the States.”
“I told you, I am not b—wait, what? What do you mean, return to the States?” My eyes snap open and I start to sit up before remembering at the last minute why that might not be such a good idea. Flashing Dimitry once is one time too many. Twice in one night might have him convinced I’m throwing myself at him. Again.
“Da.”
For a second, I meet his gaze, then I shake my head. “No. No, Dimitry. No. What’s the Russian for no again?”
“Net, zaychik.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why am I getting the sense you’re just calling me little rabbit in Russian?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Are you? Perhaps you’ve been in the bath too long.”
What my being in the bath has to do with anything distracts me for a second. But only for a second. Soon I’m glaring at him because it wouldn’t surprise me if distraction wasn’t his intention in the first place.
At any other time, I’d push him on this Russian word, but not now. Not after the bombshell he’s just thrown in my face. “I’m not going back there, Dimitry. It’s not happening.”
“Little rabbit…”
“Net. A thousand times net.”
His lips curve at what has to be the worst Russian to come out of a human mouth, ever. “Unfortunately, matters might mean that decision is soon taken out of our hands.”
Panic ignites in my belly because this is not happening. Not Vegas. Not with Dimitry. Not ever.
Eve lives in London. She writes steamy and suspenseful paranormal romances about heroines who grow into strong women, and the alpha heroes who love them.
If you want to receive updates on new releases and grab your free copy of ‘The Lottery’ (a prequel for the Bladed Princess series), you can join her mailing list here: www.evebale.com
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Three Reasons You Should Read This Middle Grade Adventure:
Wade and the Scorpion’s Claw by Tony Abbott is a quick and very action-packed adventure/mystery that keeps the pages turning all the way through this shorter story.
The story isn’t necessary to the overall Copernicus Legacy series, but it was a nice little way to fill in some time that was skipped over in the main series.
I found the lore behind the scorpion’s claw to be very interesting – and the puzzles was quite intricate.
The quest for the relics continues. Travel deeper into the mysterious world of the Copernicus Legacy with the Copernicus Archives: exciting, fast-paced novellas that get you close to the characters and the heart of the adventure.
Wade and the Scorpion’s Claw picks up right where The Copernicus Legacy: The Forbidden Stone left off, with the Kaplan family seeking the next Copernicus relic. Now Wade, the curious, analytical, yet starry-eyed member of the group, leads the chase for another relic through the busy streets of San Francisco while on the run from one of Galina Krause’s most treacherous henchmen.
Perfect for fans of Rick Riordan and Ridley Pearson, Wade and the Scorpion’s Claw continues the thrilling Copernicus Legacy quest and brings one of the characters into the spotlight.
While I really enjoyed the concept and overall story of Wade and the Scorpion’s Claw, it seemed a little out of place. Almost like an afterthought. I’ve read the second book in the Copernicus Legacy and didn’t realize there even was a part of the story that came in between at first.
It starts with some mishaps and shenanigans by the bad guys at the airport as the Kaplan crew returns to the US. There are quite a few suspicious characters, and I was quite surprised that they trusted any of them. Especially after telling each other that no one outside their group could be trusted so many times.
But it did lead to quite the chase. Through museums, Chinese restaurants, and over to the docks. It was a merry chase that kept the story moving at a fast pace. There weren’t any drawn-out or boring bits. But it also lacked a bit in substance. There wasn’t any character growth or development. They just went on a chase and came out the other side pretty much the same.
Title: Wilder Games Author: Ali Dean Series: Wilder #1 Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Sports Romance
It’s match point in the most important tennis match in my life, and nothing can distract me. Nothing, that is, except the sight of Jude Wilder sitting in the stands with his little sister on his lap. He’s never watched me play. Never even noticed me before. And yet his eyes are on me now. I know what he must be thinking. I’m not just an outcast, I’m a social pariah thanks to my family being the town’s most notorious con artists. Jude is on the opposite side of the spectrum. Not only is he accepted, he’s worshipped. I’m nobody to him, and yet I’ve got this chance to impress him.
As it turns out, he isn’t at all impressed when I win the match, and I’m worse than a nobody to him. Jude thinks I’m a threat to his family. This should alarm me. It should scare me. Jude in protective mode is hot, all right, but I can’t afford to be on his radar. I’ve got one year to secure a college scholarship. It’s hard enough keeping a low profile with my tennis success, and the last thing I need is Jude Wilder of all people drawing more attention my way.
“I’m on to you, Karis.” I muttered the words, but her eyes widened just enough to tell me she’d heard me, and knew it was a warning.
“You might think we’ve all forgotten what your mom and sister did. How many people they hurt.” Any reaction I thought I’d gotten initially from her was now locked down. She pulled her shoulders back and let a mask slide into place. I took a step forward, getting into her personal space. Wanting to affect her. Needing to.
“Your sister tried to mess with the Jamisons, my family, and I haven’t forgotten it.”
She crossed her arms and I made myself hold her eyes, even as they begged to drop to her cleavage. She’d done it on purpose.
“I’m not them.” She said it with so much calm, I knew it was forced. There was no anger and no bite, and it all played into the image she’d so carefully crafted of herself.
“No, you’ve got a different kind of game going on. The good girl, innocent, so unlike the rest of her family, people wouldn’t suspect a thing.”
Karis shook her head and took a step back, and then another.
“What are you doing? Why are you doing this?”
It wasn’t until her back hit the side of the building that I realized I’d been matching her step for step. Like I was the predator and she was the prey. I couldn’t bring myself to put any distance between us. Instead, I found myself placing an arm above her head and leaning down. As if I was about to kiss her. It was my own little game. Would she try to reel me in tighter? Get me to fall for her? Or was I playing into her hand?
“I don’t want you anywhere near my family.” I enunciated each word. “Stay away from us.”
Her eyes continued to hold mine. She didn’t shrink back, straightening her posture. We were so close I could feel her breasts brushing against me.
Finally, after a long moment, something flickered in her eyes.
A finger pressed into my chest. “You need to stay away from me,” she hissed. My smirk was automatic. I’d finally gotten a reaction.
Ali is a USA Today Bestselling author of sports romance books. She has always loved to read, especially when there’s a happily ever after, but found that there weren’t enough books out there featuring girl athletes. So, she decided to work on that. Like the heroines in her books, Ali is an athlete, with running and skiing her favorite sports these days. Ali hails from Vermont and now lives in her own happily-ever-after in Colorado with her husband, two sets of twins, and golden retriever Pancake. When she’s not pursuing an outdoor adventure, Ali’s less healthy passions include ice cream, coffee, and beer.
Became the starting quarterback for an NFL team – check. Secured a multi-million-dollar contract – check. Moved to LA and lived the glamorous life – check.
What could possibly cause me any issues? Oh yeah, one more thing. I’m gay.
I was outed a couple of years ago to my former team and my family, but it hasn’t been made public knowledge yet. Well, that is, until now. I’ll be known as the first LGBTQ+ active player in the league’s history. And if I stick to the conditions of my contract, it won’t be a problem. The thing is, I’m not really a guy known for playing by the rules.
Most people think of my personality as the three B’s: bold, brash, and blunt. My mouth has gotten me into more predicaments than I can count. Even my best friends have told me I’m stubborn as a mule and have the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. This presents a big problem for me because I have my eyes set on winning over the guy who stole my heart years ago, only he doesn’t know it yet.
Getting his attention is going to be challenging. It’s a good thing I’m tenacious. Unfortunately, it’s not great timing and could get me into a whole mess of trouble. Why does falling for a guy need to be anyone’s business but mine?
Kai
The past couple of years were a whirlwind of activity. My career took off after my guest shot appearance in Americana. I appeared in a few indie features and finally got a shot at my first major motion picture release. The work came as a great distraction from my personal life, which took a further nosedive after I found out the guy I was falling for had already fallen for someone else.
Why should I be surprised? He was another in a string of failed relationship attempts. I swore I wouldn’t get involved with anyone else, choosing to stay focused on my career instead. That is, until the force of nature known as Archer McMillan came storming into my life.
To be the pursued instead of the pursuer was not in the cards. To top it off, he’s everything I’m not. Yet, there’s something to be said for a guy who can make you laugh when it’s the last thing you want to be doing. I’ll admit he’s got a playful and determined spirit. Archer also has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I’ve ever known. Not the mention the cute way he… Hold on. What am I doing? We cannot be a thing. Nope. Not gonna happen. Ever. Right?
**
Follow Kai and Archer as they cross the lines as friends, partners-in-crime, and confidants, to discover a love beyond boundaries that needs no definition.
T.L. always hated math, so it was a good thing she had a way with words. Since she was a shy and quirky kid; words were her best friends. She would imagine entire worlds in her head and talk to herself endlessly. Her mother wondered if she was speaking with ghosts for a while.
Her older sister was a voracious reader of trashy romance novels and would pass them down to her after she had finished them. T.L. was the only 10-year-old kid sitting in class reading “The Stud” by Jackie Collins during reading time. Oddly enough, she never got called out on it.
As she grew older, her tastes evolved, but one thing held fast; her undying attachment to love stories. One day out of the blue, she decided to write the love stories she always wanted to read instead of searching for her story. Since then, writing has been a dream fulfilled for her and she could not be happier.
She enjoys writing about love, regardless of gender and is a proud supporter of the LGBTQ community.
T.L. calls the Pacific Northwest her home and enjoys the quiet rural life of her little oceanside home with her playful/crazy husband and their giant dog Noah.
Devoted. Loyal. Shameless. The Boys of Clermont Bay had been my protectors for as long as I could remember.
And Olly Warner took the job to heart.
He was intense and all-consuming, and I had been in love with him for years.
Alarmingly handsome and recklessly charming, he attempted to deny there was ever anything between us.
But we slipped over that invisible line, and the moment we gave in, something fractured.
He was leaving regardless, and I couldn’t hang on tight enough for the both of us.
Olly had always been the boy I could never have, but I couldn’t help losing myself in him.
A searing affair, the guarantee of a broken heart, and the desperation of careless promises. Olly and I were never meant to be, and we had become nothing more than a pretty lie.
I’m Holly Renee, a small-town east Tennessee girl who is obsessed with all things romance. I love bringing flawed, sassy, and real characters to life in a way that makes you feel like you’ve been best friends with them for years. No two Holly Renee books are the same, but if you love real, relatable, fun female characters and swoon-worthy heroes, I’m your girl.
When I’m not writing or reading, you can find me momming so hard, being disgustingly in love with my husband, or chilling in the middle of a lake with my sunglasses and a float. #lakelife
I have a 2-year-old adorable little man who is as wild and sweet as they come and a baby girl on the way.
Title: The Fashion Orphans Author: Randy Susan Meyers and M.J. Rose Genre: Contemporary Fiction
Two estranged sisters find that forgiveness never goes out of style when they inherit their mother’s vintage jackets, purses… and pearls of wisdom
Estranged half-sisters Gabrielle Winslow and Lulu Quattro have only two things in common: mounds of debt and coils of unresolved enmity toward Bette Bradford, their controlling and imperious recently deceased mother.
Gabrielle, the firstborn, was raised in relative luxury on Manhattan’s rarefied Upper East Side. Now, at fifty-five, her life as a Broadway costume designer married to a heralded Broadway producer has exploded in divorce.
Lulu, who spent half her childhood under the tutelage of her working-class Brooklyn grandparents, is a grieving widow at forty-eight. With her two sons grown, her life feels reduced to her work at the Ditmas Park bakery owned by her late husband’s family.
The two sisters arrive for the reading of their mother’s will, expecting to divide a sizable inheritance, pay off their debts, and then again turn their backs on each other.
But to their shock, what they have been left is their mother’s secret walk-in closet jammed with high-end current and vintage designer clothes and accessories— most from Chanel. Contemplating the scale of their mother’s self-indulgence, the sisters can’t help but wonder if Lauren Weisberger had it wrong: because it seems, in fact, that the devil wore Chanel. But as they being to explore their mother’s collection, meet and fall in love with her group of warm, wonderful friends, and magically find inspiring messages tucked away in her treasures — it seems as though their mother is advising Lulu and Gabrielle from the beyond — helping them rediscover themselves and restore their relationship with each other.
Bette returned from the beyond each time Gabrielle studied her reflection. There was no escaping genetics.
Curse or blessing?
As she dressed for the lawyer’s reading of her mother’s will, it seemed as though the woman in the mirror was Bette-from-twenty-five-years-ago. Gabrielle shared most of her mother’s features, starting with their dark green eyes—when Lulu was four, she’d called them spinach eyes.
Dabbing on foundation, thinking about Lulu, Gabrielle sighed. She dreaded today. She and her sister had survived their mother’s funeral only because Bette had left such detailed instructions—including her burial outfit—with her lawyer. Lulu and Gabrielle had only needed to show up at Frank Campbell’s, the brick and white-trimmed building two blocks away from where Bette had lived. Their mother considered it the Bergdorf Goodman of funeral homes; neither Gabrielle nor Lulu were surprised that Bette had arranged to say her last goodbye there.
The sisters had both sat in the first row but safely separated by Lulu’s sons and their partners. They’d kept in that same formation at the gravesite. Also dictated by Bette’s instructions, there had been no sitting shiva.
Gabrielle blended a smear of concealer under her eyes and into the corners, which Bette always insisted was critical after age fifty. Done, she uncapped the blackest liner Chanel made and, leaning forward, applied the soft pencil.
Use thin lines to build to the desired thickness, Bette had instructed. Seal with a slick of black eyeshadow. Finish with a light sweep of translucent powder.
Following Bette’s cosmetic rules, Gabrielle then applied lipstick, followed by blotting and a dusting with translucent powder.
As she dabbed perfume, not her mother’s Chanel No. 5, but Chanel’s Coramandel, which Bette had gifted her, Gabrielle ached. She missed her mother. She was realistic about Bette’s faults.
Demanding too much of her and often judging her harshly? Yes.
Screwing up plenty when she and Lulu were little? Yes.
But Bette never failed to answer the phone when Gabrielle called and was ever ready to meet for a quick lunch or leisurely dinner—often to offer advice whether asked for or not. Yes, she argued with Gabrielle and often found fault with her, but your mother lives in your blood. Who you are is who she was. And now, part of Gabrielle was gone. Forever. And today would be an even more brutal reminder of that.
She packed away her maudlin thoughts. Too emotional from the time she was a child, Bette always said, teaching Gabrielle to put a lid on her emotions. Careful to avoid her makeup, Gabrielle slipped a dark tweed dress over her head, zipped it up, and then examined herself. The ruching that ran up the left hip line was a detail that added interest and cut the dress’s severity. She’d chosen today’s outfit from her carefully preserved pre-divorce wardrobe of edgy high-end fashion and jewelry that she could no longer afford. Today’s dress came from her Isabel Marant phase. Gabrielle was a theatrical costume designer—or she had been until Cole cut her career off at the knees. She’d never lost the habit of seeing every day as a series of scenes and dressing for the part she’d be playing.
Today she played the grieving daughter. The reading of her mother’s will called for moving down one notch from funeral wear. Tweed replaced black, and small diamond studs took the place of pearls. She slipped on high-heeled suede boots rather than stacked pumps. The weather looked threatening, so she’d allow herself the luxury of taking a cab both ways.
Well, at least she and Lulu wouldn’t be fighting over their mother’s estate. Bette had made a point to tell both her daughters that they would inherit equally. When Gabrielle’s father died, his will had caused a family crisis. And Bette had said she’d never do that to her daughters. Gabrielle couldn’t quite remember what that problem had been, but she thought it rested on family heirlooms. She’d only been five years old when her father died—three days past her birthday.
A sense of doom hung over all her birthday celebrations after that. And then, to make it worse, seven years later, four days before Gabrielle’s birthday, Lulu came along. Sharing her special day felt unfair when Gabrielle was younger and annoying as she got older. Sibling rivalry complicated every birthday, though, oddly, Bette had managed to provide bright spots without fail. Her mother, whose self-absorption could sometimes rival Miranda Priestly’s in The Devil Wears Prada, always rose to the occasion.
Perhaps over-the-top celebrations were Bette’s way of avoiding the tragedy marking the day her beloved husband had passed. Each October twenty-third, smack in the middle of her and Lulu’s birthdays, Bette would pull off something magical. One year, she’d orchestrated a birthday dinner at Windows on the World restaurant, ensuring that a cake with candles came out at sunset. The memory made 9-11 feel uniquely sadly personal for the sisters.
For Gabrielle’s sixteenth birthday—Lulu’s ninth—Bette had hosted their friends with front row seats for a matinee of Cats on Broadway and then organized an after-party attended by some of the cast. In costume. Arranged through someone Bette had been dating at the moment, of course. So many of her beaus had connections.
Bette was a special-occasion kind of mother—far better at big-bang moments than daily routine child management.Gabrielle slipped on her wide Elsa Peretti silver cuff. The bracelet always made her feel fierce, and she anticipated she might need the extra support today. Not just because she’d be seeing Lulu, but because, knowing Bette, there would be some kind of fireworks.
The drama of Randy Susan Meyers’ novels is informed by her years spent bartending, her ten years working with violent offenders, and too many years enamored with bad boys. Two of her three novels (The Murderer’s Daughters and Accidents of Marriage) were finalists for the Mass Book Awards (2010 & 2015) and included as a “Must Read Book” by the Massachusetts Council of the Book. Her next novel, The Widow of Wall Street releases April 11, 2017.
Raised in Brooklyn New York, Randy now in Boston with her husband and is the mother of two grown daughters. She teaches writing seminars at Boston’s Grub Street Writers’ Center.
Randy Susan Meyers’ worked with violent offenders and families in crisis for over two decades.. Two of her novels (The Murderer’s Daughters and Accidents of Marriage) were finalists for the Massachusetts Book Awards.
She teaches at Boston’s Grub Street Writers’ Center.
M.J. Rose grew up in New York City mostly in the labyrinthine galleries of the Metropolitan Museum, the dark tunnels and lush gardens of Central Park and reading her mother’s favorite books before she was allowed. She believes mystery and magic are all around us but we are too often too busy to notice… Books that exaggerate mystery and magic draw attention to it and remind us to look for it and revel in it.
Rose is a the Co-President and founding member of International Thriller Writers and the founder of the first marketing company for authors: AuthorBuzz. She runs the blog, Museum of Mysteries.
In 1998, her first novel Lip Service was the first e-book and the first self-published novel chosen by the LiteraryGuild/Doubleday Book Club as well as the first e-book to go on to be published by a mainstream New York publishing house.
Rose has been profiled in Time magazine, Forbes, The New York Times, Business 2.0, Working Woman, Newsweek, and New York Magazine.
She has appeared on The Today Show, Fox News, The Jim Lehrer NewsHour, and features on her have appeared in dozens of magazines and newspapers in the U.S. and abroad, including USAToday, Stern, L’Official, Poets and Writers, and Publishers Weekly.
Rose graduated from Syracuse University and spent the ’80s in advertising. She was the Creative Director of Rosenfeld Sirowitz and Lawson and she has a commercial in the Museum of Modern Art in NYC.
What happens when a hellraiser turned hot cop is stuck with a headstrong heiress he’s determined to protect…and resist?
A run-away bride, wearing a freakin’ tiara, and carrying a stolen lion cub, of all things. This was not how rowdy, bad-boy-turned-small-town-cop, Zander Landry expected his day to go.
He really didn’t expect his night to end with her sleeping in his bed after her near-kidnapping.
But his intense attraction to her and the feelings of protectiveness she stirs up? Oh, yeah, he knew those were coming.
She’s stunning, whip-smart, and trouble with a capital T.
Which means, he needs her to head right back the way she came. ASAP.
His town is exactly the way he wants it . . . crazy and trouble free.
Well, the crazy trouble he’s not related to anyway.
Stranded in a tiny town in her half-million-dollar wedding gown with no money and no place to go . . . today is going pretty much exactly the way Caroline Holland expected it to.
But the grumpy, tattooed, oh-my-god hot cop being the answer to all her problems isn’t at all what she expected.
Now that she’s turned all the criminal (and obnoxious) info about her exotic-animal-dealing ex-fiance over to Zander, she can kick back in a hammock with some sweet tea and relax.
Or not.
Turns out Caroline’s not the spoiled heiress Zander thinks she is. The gorgeous hellion wants in on the action and soon discovers just how dirty things can get in the bayou. And the bedroom.
More and more, Zander just wants her safe on the sidelines. But Caroline isn’t going anywhere until justice is done. It’s a clash of wills that’s gonna get hotter than a crawfish boil in July. And the most fun the Landry family has had watching sparks fly since . . . well, the last book.
Zander turned to look at the woman with a brow up. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”
She met his eyes directly. She studied him, seemingly thinking over his question. Finally, she nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“It might take a bit. Want to buy me a drink?” She glanced back toward Ellie’s.
Did he want to take the gorgeous woman in a wedding dress with another man’s ring on her finger who had almost been kidnapped right in front of him back inside his grandmother’s bar where most of his family and a lot of the town was gathered?
He most certainly did not.
“No,” he said simply.
Caroline looked surprised. “Can we”—She looked around—“at least go somewhere else?”
That seemed like a good idea. She was very conspicuous here and his family could, at any moment, come out. And start asking questions. Not to mention that the would-be kidnapper now knew where she was.
“Is there a chance your fiancé is going to come back?” Of course there was. A man didn’t just let this woman go.
She bit her bottom lip and looked up the road. Then she nodded. “Yeah, there’s a chance. Or that he’ll tell someone else where I am.” She looked at Zander again. “But that was my brother. Not my fiancé.”
Oh, that was interesting.
No, it fucking isn’t. Knock it off.
“So, will your fiancé be coming after you?”
“Ex-fiancé.”
Right. She’d mentioned that.
“Okay. Will he come after you?”
She didn’t answer right away. Which Zander also found interesting. Though he shouldn’t. He did not want to be interested in this woman. At all. He didn’t want anyone getting kidnapped while they were in Autre, though, either. Okay, he didn’t really want anyone getting kidnapped, period. But especially while they were in Autre.
“There’s a chance,” Caroline finally admitted. “Or my dad might come. Or my ex-fiancé’s dad might come.”
“And you don’t want to go back with any of them? Is that right?”
“Yes.”
Well, fuck. He had to at least be sure she didn’t get taken anywhere by anyone against her will.
She studied him for a long moment. “So, you’re willing to help me, Officer Landry?”
Her question—and her voice and her eyes and her everything, if he was being honest with himself which he decided to not be—sent a shot of something through Zander’s chest.
It was the familiar streak of adrenaline he often felt with his work. It primed his gut to act on instinct when necessary, it made him ready to take on people intent on doing bad things and face potential danger, and it focused his mind. But he also recognized the sliver of trepidation. It wasn’t fear or reluctance. It was…awareness. Like knowing he was about to open a big old can of worms.
But he nodded. “Helping people with problems is kind of my job.”
“Then I would love to tell you what’s going on.”
He wanted that. And it wasn’t the cop in him thinking that.
Fuck. Dammit. Hell. Sonofabitch.
“Okay. Let’s go…someplace your brother doesn’t know about.”
“Like your place?”
Yes. He wanted her at his place. That was the safest. He could definitely keep her safe there. His property was at the end of a dead-end road so the only traffic was trucks he knew. His neighbors were his brothers and cousins. His backyard butted up to the bayou.
But fuck no. He wasn’t taking this woman anywhere near his house. Where his bedroom was.
She was dangerous. He couldn’t sort through all the reasons why at the moment, not while looking into her eyes and wondering how soft her skin was and how silky her hair was, but he had enough self-preservation instinct to keep her away from his house.
“I’m thinking the B & B.”
He grabbed her suitcase and started for his truck.
“But he might think to look there,” she protested. She gathered up her enormous skirts and followed him though.
“I’ll tell Heather not to tell anyone anything about you,” Zander told her, storing her bag behind the front seat and then turning to face her.
Dammit.
Again with the eyes. And hair. And lips. Okay, he hadn’t included the lips in the earlier inventory, but they were great too.
So he liked female lips. Big deal. These were not that exceptional. What the hell was wrong with him?
She’s probably your damned soulmate or some shit and the second you touch her hand you’re going to feel sparks.
I’m not going to feel sparks. That’s a stupid cliché. But I have to get some war biographies. Or maybe something about Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Something about women who are amazing but not sexy. It doesn’t have to be about sexy all the time. Get away from those romance novels.
The thing was, smart, bold women like RBG were sexy in their own way and if Zander had been Ruth’s age and run into her at a bar when she was single, he absolutely would have hit on her.
“Are you okay?” Caroline asked, stepping forward with a slight frown.
He jerked out of his stupid thoughts. “Yeah. I’m fine. You’re the one with the problem.”
Well, that had sounded rude as fuck.
Her eyes widened, but then she nodded. “Yeah. I am. We should definitely work on my problem. It’s going to keep getting bigger if we don’t.” Zander sighed. He didn’t even know what that meant but…of course it was.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Erin Nicholas has been writing romances almost as long as she’s been reading them. To date, she’s written over thirty sexy, contemporary novels that have been described as “toe-curling,” “enchanting,” “steamy,” and “fun.” She adores reluctant heroes, imperfect heroines, and happily ever afters.
Erin lives in the Midwest, where she enjoys spending time with her husband (who only wants to read the sex scenes in her books), her kids (who will never read the sex scenes in her books), and her family and friends (who claim to be “shocked” by the sex scenes in her books).
