Fashion exec RJ Gold hasn’t seen Grace Hopkins since she turned down his marriage proposal and walked out of his life. While he’s in Saint Lucia for his sister’s wedding, a run-in with his journalist ex is unexpected…as is the story she’s writing on the decades-long feud between his family’s fashion empire and a rival Manhattan house. Grace’s body is as delicious as RJ remembers…but he remembers too much to trust her again.
Grace knew seeing RJ would be awkward. It’s also intense…and red-hot! But she can’t afford distractions from her big break. This story will launch her journalism career to new heights, a dream she chose over RJ years ago. Still, she would rather work with him than against him… Except working together in paradise makes it impossible to ignore the tropical temptation at play!
As their explosive chemistry and rekindling feelings reach a fever pitch, RJ and Grace must decide—can second chances last, or is their desire on a deadline?
He tried blinking repeatedly, hoping that when he focused his gaze again, he’d be mistaken, but that hadn’t worked. Now the air froze in his lungs, causing his chest to constrict, and one strangled word tumbled from his lips. “Grace?”
She took a step back, her mouth opening slightly, then closing without a word. That’s how they stood for the next…he didn’t even know how many seconds had passed, and he didn’t dare speak again. As if she’d figured that out, she cleared her throat and finally spoke. “Hello, RJ.”
No, this couldn’t be. Was he sleepwalking? Hadn’t he just thought about his past relationship? Yes, and he’d pushed that memory way back to the place he’d buried it for the last ten years. Only now, it was right here, just a couple feet away from him.
Grace Hopkins. His Grace.
The first and only woman he’d ever loved, the woman he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Dragging a hand down his face, RJ shook his head as if that were going to clear all this away. She was still standing there wearing very short shorts that showed off the rich mocha complexion of her long, gorgeous legs. A white T-shirt fit perfectly against the curve of her breasts and a gold heart pendant dangling from a choker necklace brushed over the hollow of her throat.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said when it seemed she might be the only one capable of speaking at this time.
Memories tangled and fought inside his mind. Grace had been his everything. She was the first and only woman to claim his heart. A heart she’d held so tightly in the palm of her hand that she’d been able to crush it with one, simple word—no. Muted pain rested in the center of his chest.
He hadn’t seen her since that awful night years ago, but now she was here. It was Grace’s voice he heard, her smile he saw as her lips tilted slowly. She eased an arm from behind her back to wave her hand at him as if they were long-lost friends. He didn’t know what to say or do, which was uncharacteristically strange for him. Trying to get his mind right and act like he had some semblance of brain function, he gripped his phone tightly in one hand and nodded.
“What are you doing wandering around out here in the dark?” It wasn’t the most pressing question at the moment, but he was still working up the nerve to ask the other one.
She shrugged, shifting her weight from one foot to the next, and dropped her arms to her side. “Going for a walk, which actually seems like the same thing you were doing.” He should’ve expected the quick and snappy response. It was her signature and matched her ambitious and flirtatious personality perfectly. She loved to talk. Where some women might like cuddling after sex, Grace had been a talker. Those were the nights he’d learned so much about her. Unfortunately, the one time he’d needed her to be chatty, she’d clammed up and walked away from him for what he thought was going to be forever.
He had to ask her. It made the most sense that this next question come, he just didn’t know how he was going to feel about her answer. “It’s been a long time.” He dodged the bullet again.
“Yeah. It has.”
“You look…um…you look—” He noticed something else that made this entire scenario stranger. “Is that a vibrator?”
For all the latest news on A.C. Arthur books, giveaways, appearances and discussions Like A.C. Arthur’s Book Lounge on Facebook @ http://www.facebook.com/pages/AC-Arthurs-Book-Lounge or follow her on Twitter @AcArthur
A.C. Arthur was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland where she currently resides with her husband and three children. An active imagination and a love for reading encouraged her to begin writing in high school and she hasn’t stopped since.
Working in the legal field she’s seen lots of horrific things and longs for the safe haven reading a romance novel brings. Her debut novel Object of His Desire was written when a picture of an Italian villa sparked the idea of an African-American/Italian hero. Determined to bring a new edge to romance, she continues to develop intriguing plots, sensual love scenes, racy characters and fresh dialogue–thus keeping the readers on their toes!
A.C. also writes small town contemporary romance as Lacey Baker. Visit her Amazon Author Page for details about her upcoming Hallmark Channel novelization, A Gingerbread Romance. amazon.com/author/bakerlacey
In the young adult arena, A.C. also writes under the name Artist Arthur. Visit her Amazon Author Page for details about available YA books. amazon.com/author/artistarthurbooks
A spill in the rapids hauls two strangers into a harrowing and romantic adventure.
Chuck Borgas is ready to get back in the jungle. A lost city and a team of archeological students are waiting for him in Guatemala. He is waylaid at the airport by a bizarre woman who latches onto him like she’s his long-lost buddy. Smoking hot women don’t usually throw themselves at him. Ever. Finally ditching the stranger, he realizes she has left a bag behind. One glimpse into that sack and Chuck knows he’s stepped into a heap of trouble.
Faith Sanders is part of a small task force returning smuggled artifacts to the Guatemalan government. Her team is ambushed by members of a drug cartel, but she manages to escape. Alone and determined to get the artifacts to their destination, she is forced to improvise as the cartel closes in on her. That improvisation lands her in the arms of a handsome stranger.
Realizing that she has jeopardized the man at the airport, Faith has to decide which is more important…saving his life, or completing her mission.
If they were after the bag—thanks to her, they knew where it was heading. There was no need to keep her.
Faith swallowed. What were the alternatives? Leave her on the side of the highway? She didn’t think men like this left loose strings. They left declarations. She had done her research on some of the most unsavory Central American cartels. They didn’t leave loose strings. They left bodies. Statements.
Twenty-six. She was twenty-six years old. A trainee. Was that an excuse for stupidity? For mistakes?
Her knowledge of the language was passable, but she couldn’t decipher the low timbres of the exchange in the front seat. The man in the passenger seat turned his head to leer at her. Perspiration or hair gel plastered his black hair back from a high forehead.
“When we get the skulls back, we chop you head off so it can join them.”
Lovely.
Faith crossed her arms to try and conceal the tremors racing through her limbs. They had not handcuffed her. She searched the back seat and grimy car mats for something she could attack them with. Reading her thoughts, the man hefted the barrel of his gun over the seatback, aiming it at her.
“No, no, señorita.” He wagged the gun back and forth. The motion drew her attention to a tattoo poking out from beneath his shirt sleeve. The snout of a pig was exposed.
Faith sucked in a quick breath. The Cerdo Loco cartel.
“I threw the bag in the garbage at the airport,” she vowed futilely.
Gel-head sneered, revealing the tip of a badly yellowed tooth.
“We saw you get on the bus with it,” he claimed. “We saw da man you got on with. We go to Tikal where the bus goes. We find the man. We find the bag. We chop your head off.”
USA TODAY bestselling author, Maureen A. Miller worked in the software industry for fifteen years. She crawled around plant floors in a hard hat and safety glasses hooking up computers to behemoth manufacturing machines. The job required extensive travel. The best form of escapism during those lengthy airport layovers became writing.
Maureen’s first novel, WIDOW’S TALE, earned her a Golden Heart nomination in Romantic Suspense. After that she became hooked to the genre. In fact, she was so hooked she is the founder of the JUST ROMANTIC SUSPENSE website.
Recently, Maureen branched out into the Young Adult Science Fiction market with the popular BEYOND Series. To her it was still Romantic Suspense…just on another planet!
Title: Broken Hearts Author: M. O’Keefe Genre: Contemporary Romance
Ronan.
His name thrums through me like a heartbeat.
I climbed out of the smoldering crater of my life only to find myself back in the middle of a slow-motion trainwreck. I’m hunted, torn between my past and present, ripped apart by two warring families. My husband is dead, and his killer is the only man who’s ever felt the deep well of emotion I keep hidden from the world.
Ronan.
Vicious and scarred—his rough touch is seared into my skin, but his soft caresses are what break down my walls bit by bit. Until there’s only me left. My soul in his bloody hands, and my broken heart beating just for him. Only him.
Ronan.
My shadowy protector, my phantom lover—kiss me or kill me, I don’t care. As long as you’re the one who does it.
“Poppy?” he asked, close enough I could feel his breath against my face. The heat of him against my hurt arm. I couldn’t step in or back. Or away. I was stuck there in that doorway with him. One more question on my lips.
“Was fucking me part of your job too?”
“I never fucked you.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, wanting the truth, even though I knew it would hurt.
The wind howled.
“Yeah,” he said. “You were part of my job.”
“There,” I said and smiled with all my teeth. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Poppy.” He reached for me, but finally, I stepped away into the room. The fire was hot, and the room swam a little around me. I stumbled, my knee suddenly buckling, and he grabbed me by my elbow, keeping me on my feet.
“You need to go back to bed,” he said quietly. I wondered, looking at him, what doorways he’d walked through in his life and what he’d left behind in the process. Everything, I imagined. Ronan just kept walking, taking nothing with him through life.
That’s not important. You need to focus on what’s important.
“You didn’t shoot me.” It wasn’t a question, but I would say nothing else to him if he didn’t answer me.
“No,” he confessed. “I didn’t shoot you. Theo Rivers made an impossible shot.”
“If I wanted to leave, would you let me?”
“You’re hurt.”
“Am I free to leave?” I looked him right in the eye with all the bravery I hadn’t felt around him before.
“No. Not until we know what’s happening. Not until we have a plan.”
“I’m a prisoner?”
“The Morellis want you dead or alive,” he said. “I’m not sure why you’d want to leave.”
“Why?” What in the world did I mean to them dead or alive? “There’s got to be a mistake.”
“The Morellis don’t make mistakes.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.” I had no idea why I was arguing like this. “Can’t we just talk to someone? Eden Morelli! I could talk to her—”
“You’re not talking to any Morellis.”
“It’s all just . . . a little intense, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Poppy. It’s intense.” He was laughing at me. Not on the outside. On the outside, he was the same Ronan, deep and unreadable. But inside, I could tell he was having a good chuckle at my expense.
I sighed, suddenly exhausted.
“Come on,” he said, putting a hand under my left elbow like I was eight years old or an invalid.
I flinched away from him. “I don’t need your help.”
He humored me all the way back into the bedroom. “Of course not.”
I had seven million more questions, but the adrenaline was gone, and I limply climbed into the bed that wasn’t mine. My mind was fuzzy from the pain meds. I could ask all of them, but they were all extensions of the only question that mattered. The only question I had the strength to ask as my eyelids drooped and my body went heavy.
“Why?” I whispered. Why did Ronan shoot the senator? Why did Theo drug me? Why did the Morelli family want me dead or alive? Why did he save me?
He tucked blankets around me. If I had the strength, I would push him away. Fuck you, Ronan, I thought, my mind drifting toward sleep. Fuck you.
“I don’t know why,” he said. “That’s what’s killing me.”
M. O’Keefe is the darker, more dangerous pen name of bestselling author Molly O’Keefe. She is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Everything I Left Unsaid series and the upcoming Stolen Hearts. To find out more visit www.molly-okeefe.com
Arman joined me. “Let’s head to the private cove so we can be alone.”
Our first kiss. My lips burned like it had just happened. We’d gone there so my parents wouldn’t find me, and I’d been tempted to know him intimately.
The years hadn’t been kind to me. I hoped that wouldn’t get in the way of our practical future. I lifted my shoulder. “I’m being invited to your private beach?”
He pressed his hand on my back as we walked onto the beach. “You always had a pass.”
That sounded nice. I needed to keep my head straight, though. I took my sneakers off and let my toes curl into the sand. He left his light sweater and T-shirt on a rock. Those muscles of his were defined. My nipples under my well-padded bra hardened at the sight. He was even sexier now, but he’d always starred in my what-if dreams.
I glanced away and pretended this wasn’t heaven. “So, are all your brothers visiting this summer?”
Drat, I already asked that. He’d told me the night before. I jerked and half expected Bob to tell me I was an idiot.
However, Arman didn’t even blink. “No, just the weekend, to celebrate Mom’s birthday and Joel’s new marriage surprise. Now, Mâmân has ammo to convince the rest of us to get married and give her grandchildren.”
Once again, he was different and not like my father or Bob. As we stepped inside the fairy-tale cove of my dreams, I only said, “At least it’s not your dad. It’s harder to say no that way. He was the one who ordered me to break up with you that summer.”
“He wasn’t my biggest fan.”
Being understated but classy was another of Arman’s great qualities. The slight waterfall on the hard rock continued like no time had passed, and the waves of the beach lulled me into memories. We headed out of the sea cave to the private beach surrounded by the rocks. The cave let in natural light from the open ceiling. When I needed to calm down, this was a place I still visited in my mind.
The smell of the salty air hit me again as he asked, “Is that why you married years ago?”
The question played out in my mind like the wrong chord on a guitar. I hugged my waist. “Doesn’t matter.” I’d tried to love Bob once I said yes, and being open had shattered me.
Arman walked onto the beach, wearing his gray cotton pants that had to cost more than everything I owned. I put my phone on a rock, edged closer to the water, and called out, “What matters is that you’re not wearing a bathing suit.”
He came back and picked me up like I was still a girl. “I’ll just buy more shorts and you an outfit before I take you home.”
The water lapped closer to me. I crawled onto Arman to stay dry, but then he let me go. Water rushed around me, and as I emerged, wet, I shook my hair. “I can’t believe you just dropped me in.”
He laughed. “The water’s warm, and you’re a good swimmer.”
Once upon a time, I’d been a good swimmer. This was my first return to the blue waters, and somehow, the moment was freeing. With Arman, maybe I could be carefree again.
USA TODAY bestselling author Victoria Pinder moved cross country and now lives in Denver though her books always take her right back to Miami, where she lived for years. She’s currently expecting another baby and raising the first one, both of whom inspire her writing. Somewhere in between using drama to make her humdrum days seem more interesting and falling in love with happily-ever-afters to offer hope to her readers, she takes to her fictional world where all her characters in Miami might mention or meet each other in one huge world and discovers what her bold heroine and her brainy, sexy hero might need to really find true love. You can follow her on twitter @VictoriaPinder
Roman Campbell. Wild Child. Rebel. Rockstar. Broken.
At the age of twenty-eight, Roman Campbell has the world at his feet. Young, successful, and brutally beautiful, his facade of an uber-cool rockstar hides deep scars that have tormented him for years. After finally putting the pieces of his broken life back together, Roman attends the wedding of his famous movie star friend Carter Wilson in Twilight Falls, where he meets Drake Jackson. Their attraction is instantaneous and Roman hooks up with the sexy builder for one intoxicating night.
Drake Jackson. Wickedly Hot. Serial Heartbreaker. Reformed (mostly) Bad Boy.
Having put behind his difficult childhood, Drake Jackson is content with his life. His one regret remains his lost chance at a relationship with his childhood friend Alex. After a torrid encounter with Roman at Carter’s wedding leaves Drake hungry for more, the builder believes he will never set eyes on the famous rockstar again. But when Roman buys the property Drake had long coveted in Twilight Falls right from under his nose and hires Drake as his contractor, Drake realizes trouble has come to find him with a capital T.
Sparks fly and the two men soon commit to a temporary arrangement that sees them satisfying their carnal desire for one another. But when Roman’s past comes crashing back into his life and his secrets are revealed, Drake finds himself experiencing a lot more than just desire for Roman. Will Drake finally accept the feelings growing inside his heart? Or will he reject Roman’s love and repeat the mistakes of his past?
Join Drake and Roman in this wildly addictive fifth installment in Twilight Falls, the new series by the author of the bestselling, contemporary, gay romance series Nights.
Content Note: this book contains sensitive content that may be upsetting to some readers. Please refer to the page at the start of the book for more information.
Roman Campbell took a sip of his sparkling water and observed the two men taking to the floor for their first dance as a married couple.
Carter Wilson and Elijah Davis looked blissfully happy as they swayed to a classic Sinatra song, fingers interlocked and arms around one another while their bodies brushed sensuously. It was clear to everyone in the marquee that the grooms only had eyes for each other.
A twinge of jealousy stabbed through Roman at the happiness radiating on the two men’s faces. Carter laughed at something Elijah said and took his husband’s mouth in a hot kiss that had their guests clapping and wolf-whistling.
The newlyweds turned and extended their hands toward a pretty little blond girl in a cream taffeta and lace dress who stood watching them from the sidelines. Maisie, Carter’s niece and his and Elijah’s newly adopted daughter, squealed and ran out to join them. The couple caught her into their arms and resumed their dance, their mouths split in beaming smiles.
Roman swallowed a grimace.
I really am an asshole. I should be happy for them.
He’d been somewhat surprised to receive an invite to what was being touted as the most exclusive celebrity wedding of the year. Though he was friends with Carter, they hadn’t spoken for a while, their busy lives meaning their paths rarely crossed except at social events.
They’d met five years ago, at an exclusive sex club in L.A. It was the kind of place where the world-famous clientele could indulge in their private desires and fantasies to their heart’s content, without fear of their secrets becoming fodder for the paparazzi.
It had been Roman’s first time at the club. He’d hit on Carter the minute he’d walked inside the place, not realizing that the tall man with the dirty blond hair and the body to die for was the A-list Hollywood actor who had practically dominated entertainment news ever since he exploded on the movie scene with his first blockbuster.
Though Carter had flirted with Roman, he hadn’t obliged his invitation to visit one of the club’s private suites for some down and dirty time. He had, however, kept a close eye on him.
Roman had been more than a little drunk and high on drugs when he’d made the impulsive decision to visit the club that night and hook up with a stranger, a fact he had been lambasted for at length when his manager and best friend James Lang turned up and dragged him from the place a couple of hours later.
“At least you had the decency to pick somewhere the paparazzi couldn’t find you!” James had snapped the next morning while Roman lay recovering from his monumental hangover on the sundeck of his L.A. penthouse. “It’s a good thing Carter messaged me when he did.”
“Carter?” Roman had frowned at the unfamiliar name. “Who the hell is Carter? And could you pipe down? This headache is killing me,” he’d added on a groan.
James had clenched and unclenched his hands in a way that told Roman he’d wished they were wrapped around Roman’s neck.
“Carter is the guy you were hitting on last night,” James had explained icily. “He’s a friend of mine.” He’d paused and narrowed his eyes at Roman, a muscle dancing in his cheek. “That headache isn’t the only thing that’s gonna kill you, Roman. You need to cut back on the booze and the drugs. You’re not just ruining your health. You’re sabotaging your career!”
The guilt and anger that had rotted Roman’s insides for as long as he could remember flared into life and had his mouth curving in a nasty smile.
“Are you saying that as my best friend or as my manager?”
The hurt in James’s eyes had Roman immediately regretting his harsh words.
“I’m sorry,” Roman had mumbled in the stiff silence. “I promise I won’t do anything like this again.”
James had watched him for a moment before blowing out a heavy sigh. They’d both known it was a lie.
It wouldn’t be another two years until Roman finally kept his word. By then, the whole of L.A. and the world knew that the lead singer of Crazyknot was damaged goods.
Paradoxically, Roman’s soul-crushing fall from grace only boosted sales of their albums and propelled the band to international stardom. It also turned him into an overnight icon, one he’d assumed the entertainment industry would soon forget. Which made his and Crazyknot’s shockingly successful comeback twelve months ago all the more humbling. Apparently, the world loved nothing more than seeing a former bad boy reform.
Roman’s lips tilted in a self-deprecating smile. Well, almost reform.
He might have ditched the alcohol and the drugs. It didn’t mean he’d turned into a monk. He scanned the marquee, the restless feeling that had been gnawing at his insides a sure-fire sign that he needed to let off some steam in a way that didn’t involve getting intoxicated.
Now, let’s find a guy I can have some fun with.
“I know that look,” someone said next to him.
Roman closed his eyes briefly. He twisted on the bar stool and studied the man who’d taken the seat beside him with a faint frown.
James Lang looked his usual cool and elegant self in a bottle green tuxedo that matched his eyes and framed specs.
Roman pursed his lips.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d known James for thirteen years and had seen him puke his guts up on more occasions than he could count when they were teenagers, he might have taken a stab at the guy. James was attractive in the kind of way that made people pause and wonder what lay beneath the impeccable suits and hard exterior.
The only ones who truly knew the infamous manager were the members of Crazyknot and their close friends. For behind the cool, controlled facade James projected burned a fiery and surprisingly passionate soul.
To this day, Roman didn’t know what had turned the outgoing and fun-loving boy he had come to know during what had been the most challenging years of his teenage life, into the stern and reserved man who now sat facing him. It had happened shortly after their first national tour.
Roman and the other members of Crazyknot had long questioned James about his almost overnight transformation, but the manager had always remained tight-lipped on the subject.
“Oh yeah?” Roman grumbled presently. “And what kind of look am I wearing, pray tell?”
James arched an eyebrow. He took a sip of his champagne before leaning in closer. “The kind that says you’re looking for a good fuck.”
Choked off laughter erupted close by.
James stiffened and looked over Roman’s head.
Roman turned, a frown on his face and his mouth parting on a biting remark.
His breath locked in his throat.
Gunmetal blue eyes sparkled with mirth opposite him. Though the stranger straddled the bar stool in a relaxed pose, Roman could tell he was tall and would tower over him by a good few inches. His overlong, sun-kissed brown hair teased the collar of his classic, black tuxedo, the suit doing little to hide the hard angles and solid muscles beneath the expensive material. Silver peppered his short beard and sideburns, framing a rugged, tanned face that wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of an outdoor sports magazine. His fingers were hard and callused where he held a half-empty beer bottle.
The man smiled and tipped his drink at them with a nonchalant dip of his head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for the beer.”
Roman’s cock stirred. He swallowed.
Fuck. Mr. Sideburns was one hundred percent his type. And he looked exactly like the kind of trouble Roman needed to avoid tonight.
A.M. Salinger is the pen name of an Amazon bestselling author who has always wanted to write scorching hot contemporary romance and M/M urban fantasy. In 2018, she finally decided to venture to the steamy side. NIGHTS and TWILIGHT FALLS are contemporary M/M romance series written as A.M. Salinger. In 2021, she launches FALLEN MESSENGERS, her first M/M urban fantasy series written as Ava Marie Salinger. When she’s not dreaming up hotties to write about, you’ll find Ava creating kickass music playlists to write to, spying on the wildlife in her garden, drooling over gadgets, and eating Chinese.
Ghosts, corpses and four hot men—what’s a girl to do?
Abandoned at three—whose parents want a kid who sees ghosts?—I learned the world is quick to punish misfits. I try my best to be a normal, boring human, but the call of the supernatural just won’t be ignored.
When a stranger shows up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, it’s no sexy tryst. Instead, I’m off to the graveyard, digging up the corpse of a murder victim at the demand of the local vampire coven—and that small felony is just the start.
The spirit of the woman has gone missing—something that shouldn’t be possible—and everyone is looking to me for answers. There’s Kase, a vampire who’s both terrifying and secretive. Grant, a mage with a bad attitude and a lot of power. Troy, the possessive werewolf-detective next door and Hunter, a mysterious bad boy who isn’t even close to human.
It’s a race not just against time but against everything to figure out where the spirits are going, who’s behind it and if I can trust the men who now share my bed.
Hunter didn’t remove his hand from my mouth. It made me realize he was also entirely pressed against me, and despite it not being possible, he felt better than he’d looked. His skin was warm, even through my robe.
He took his hand off my mouth but didn’t move away. “Stay still,” he whispered against my ear.
“Why? Is it coming back?”
“No. I just really like looking down your robe.”
As soon as his words sank in, when I moved past the adrenaline and the purr of his voice, I realized that yes, my robe had bagged open and he had a perfect view down the front.
I elbowed him, but he didn’t seem to even feel it. He released me, though the way he did it implied my little move hadn’t meant a thing.
“I am so tired of people breaking into my house,” I said.
“You aren’t human, and you don’t have any wards. That’s the same as a ‘come on in’ sign in our world.”
“I am human.”
“Sure, shadow-girl.” He sent me a conspiratorial wink, as if we were on the joke together.
“No, I actually am. No funky teeth, no freaky eyes. Human.” I pointed at my face as though that drove the point home.
He waved at himself. “No funky teeth, no freaky eyes. Very much not human. Sure, though, if you want to pretend, I’m not one to turn down a bit of good roleplay. You want to be innocent Little Red Riding Hood? I’ll play the wolf.”
His suggestion derailed me. How could it not? Any girl who claimed she hadn’t had entirely inappropriate dreams about the wolf in that story was a damned liar. Once I’d reached a certain age, ‘all the better to eat you with’ had taken on a very different meaning.
I pictured a dark, heavily wooded forest as I ran, something on my heels, gaining ground. His warm breath on my neck when he caught me…
Suddenly I didn’t care what he’d said, why he was there or what exactly he meant by him ‘not being human’.
Until I recalled he’d broken in, and clearly him showing up at my office wasn’t a coincidence.
He snorted. “I liked where your mind was going before.”
“What are you doing here? And what was that thing?”
“Don’t we have better things to discuss? Or we can do away with talking all together.”
“I don’t sleep with people who might kill me, but thanks.”
“If someone might not kill you, are they even worth sleeping with in the first place?”
Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing.
A wildly funny, ridiculously romantic spinoff from best-selling author Melanie Summers…
Princess Arabella of Avonia is bored out of her ever-loving mind. No twenty-eight-year-old wants to live an endless loop of high teas, state dinners, and the same five conversations. They want freedom and adventure. After a wild night out in Ibiza ends in disaster, the royal handlers have shortened her leash considerably. Desperate for an out, she sneakily signs up to co-host a new nature docu-series, starring Will Banks, the man dubbed McHotty of the Wilderness.
Will has ladies all over the globe lining up to meet him until a hot, new adventurer comes on the scene, and his ratings take a nose-dive. Producers decide an emergency change in format is in order. Enter Princess Arabella. The pampered and proper royal is the perfect foil to Will’s rugged outdoorsman.
It’s hate at first sight, but their on-screen loathing makes for great television. Surprisingly, when the cameras stop rolling, these two finally see each other’s good sides. Can these opposites find their forever in each other’s arms, or will their differences be their undoing?
The tabloids are hunting them. Their families are turning on them. Can their love survive?
Despite the odds, Princess Arabella of Avonia and rugged outdoorsman, Will Banks, fell in love while filming a reality show in the jungle. But that’s another story.
While she’s making room in the royal closet for his hiking boots and backpacks—right next to the crown jewels—the show’s producers are editing together film footage that could turn their romance into nothing more than a showmance. Private moments caught tape and aired for the world’s viewing pleasure are about to turn their world upside down.
Can love to conquer all?
Find out in this scandalously funny, sweet but sexy second installment The Crazy Royal Love Series…
Don’t miss the heartwarming, laugh-out-loud continuation of the Crazy Royal Love Romantic Comedy Series …
After a whirlwind romance that has taken them all over the globe, rugged survival expert Will Banks and Princess Arabella of Avonia are getting ready to take a trip down the aisle.
Planning the perfect wedding isn’t easy at the best of times, so when you include two families who couldn’t be more different, tensions are bound to run high. The last thing they need is a television producer determined to get every last sneer on film.
With one hilarious disaster after another ruining their plans, Will and Arabella must figure out how to pull it all together in time to say ‘I do.’
Brimming with swoon-worthy romance, seriously funny shenanigans, and an unforgettable cast of characters, Melanie Summers is sure to make you laugh out loud and believe in love.
I’ve been a very good groomsman. I’ve smiled for all the photos. I laughed through the many toasts and I’ve done a bang-up job of pretending life couldn’t be better for me all day, even though there is a boulder of worry lodged in my chest. And now, it’s time for me to get piss-stinking drunk.
The trick with over-imbibing at a wedding is to make it look like you’re carrying drinks for other people. In this case, four flutes of champagne from the champagne fountain. Two could still possibly look like I’m going to drink them myself, but four seems far too ridiculous for anyone to suspect me of what I’m actually doing, which is filling them, then carrying them through the hotel ballroom with a purposeful look on my face, stopping periodically to down one and leave the glass.
I’m just filling up the last flute when I hear a woman’s voice behind me. “Rough day?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see a lovely blonde in a blue gown. Her hair is up in some sort of complicated fancy do, and she has the most mesmerizing light blue eyes I think I’ve ever seen.
My jaw goes slack for an instant before I pull myself together. “These aren’t all for me.”
Taking one from my hand, she says, “Sure they’re not. I saw you earlier crossing the room with your first four glasses. Excellent trick. No one would ever imagine someone making such a pig of himself.”
“No offense, though, right?” I say, tipping back my glass and downing it. I set the glass down and hold my right hand out. “Will Banks.”
She shakes my hand even though she seems like the type of woman who’s more used to men kissing her knuckles lightly. “Yes, I know who you are.”
I blush a little and get that slightly squishy feeling that comes along with being sort of famous. “Right, sorry, it’s hard for me to wrap my head around people knowing who I am everywhere I go.”
“Occupational hazard, I guess,” she says with a grin.
“And what are the hazards of your occupation?” I ask. Oooh, that was pretty smooth, if I do say so myself.
She stares at me for a second, then says, “It’s a bit difficult to put a finger on it, but I suppose you could say I’m in public relations.”
“I’ll try not to hate you for it,” I say with a wink.
“I’m assuming there’s some sort of delicious backstory to that comment. Perhaps something that requires eight glasses of champagne to forget.”
“Something like that.” I watch, thoroughly engrossed as she takes a dainty sip. “Not that I’d ever complain, because believe me, I know how lucky I am to be doing the work I do, but there are aspects of it I could do without.”
She nods, a look of understanding crossing her face that makes me want to continue the conversation. I stare at her for a moment and can’t help but feel like she’s somehow familiar. “Have we met before?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’d remember me,” she says with a little smile.
“Ha! Good one,” I say, having a swig of my drink. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”
“It was quite lovely.”
“Whose side are you on? The bride or the groom?”
“The groom,” she says. “He’s a friend of my older brother.”
“Your brother must be quite the person. Pierce is very selective with who he allows in his inner circle.”
“Yes, you could say that.” She glances around, then looks back at me. “What about you? Are you a fan of weddings in general?”
“For other people. You?”
“Agreed. Marriage is definitely not for me.”
“So, it’s a life of public relations for you, is it?”
“It’s what I was born to do.”
“Well, I hope whoever you work for, they’re good to you—not all stuffy like this lot. All the wannabe royals thinking they’re so very important when the truth is nobody outside this ballroom knows who they are, and if they did, they wouldn’t care.”
“Or worse, the actual royals,” she says with a knowing look.
“God, yes. What a useless existence that would be. I mean, they’re not even in charge of anything real anymore. It’s just a whole life of pomp and ceremony.”
“Pathetic, right?” she answers, rolling her eyes.
“I actually heard someone earlier saying they feel sorry for them.”
“Absurd.”
“Yeah, honestly. They went on and on about how hard it would be to live in the spotlight your entire life.” I take a sip of my drink. “As someone with a bit of fame, I can tell you, there’s very little to complain about.”
“Well, of course there wouldn’t be anything to whine about. Not with all the perks and privileges.”
“Exactly. If they want to do something hard, they should get dropped off in Siberia in the dead of winter and try to survive for a week without their chefs and maids and heated toilet seats.”
“Ha!” she says. God, I like her. She gets me. I wonder if she’d be up for a shag?
“They’d be calling for a helicopter in under an hour, I can guarantee it.”
“Probably even less,” she agrees, giving me a conspiratorial look.
I glance down at her full lips, then lower my voice. “Say, you wouldn’t want to get out of here, would you? Somewhere not quite so stuffy.”
She leans in close enough that I can smell her perfume. I have no idea what it is, but it smells like money. She must do really well for herself in the public relations biz. “Somewhere that I could let my hair down and we could get to know each other better.”
This is actually going to happen, isn’t it? I nod. “Exactly.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can answer, an older man in a grey suit taps her on the shoulder. “Princess Arabella, delightful to see you again. My wife and I would love to talk to you about a foundation we’re starting for homeless birds.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shock vibrates through me as my words about her family echo through my brain. Pomp and ceremony. Not in charge of anything real anymore. I am so not getting lucky tonight. I give her a sheepish look, wishing I could think of a clever way to make it all better, but I’ve got nothing. Just embarrassment and regret. “So … you’re … I did not … I am so …”
“I am, I know you didn’t, and I’m sure you are,” Princess Arabella says with an amused smile. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Banks.” She holds up her glass to me. “But I’m afraid it’s time to get back to my useless existence.”
Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.
Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.
In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally – then she’ll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for ‘K’ Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn’t require makeup and/or nylons).
Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she’s not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something–more like just staying until they turn the lights off.
She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.
What’s a witch to do when her magic’s been hacked and her tongue wickedly cursed! No matter how hard Eloise Redd concentrates on keeping her thoughts to herself, she blurts them. The only option is to lie low and wait for the hacker’s ransom note —and hope the demands aren’t too steep. In the meantime, she hides out in a haunted town as a palm reader. What could possibly go wrong reading palms?
Jeffrey Bales, Chief Operating Officer of Think Tank Innovations, is excellent at peopling. What he’s not good at is fending off a multitude of women convinced he’s their souls’ missing puzzle piece. This thanks to the town’s magical palm reader. A woman whose mouth should come with a hazard warning. He has no choice but to turn his charms on her to silence those wayward words. Just a tiny, fake relationship should work…
Unless it takes place under the roof of a bewitched house. One determined to bind them together eternally. That ransom demand can’t arrive soon enough.
“Welcome to Hand Picked.” Eloise struck a pose at the top of her stairs and spoke to the gentleman who stood in her doorway, looking very much like a shabby prince with his stiff stance and sexy-as-hell five o’clock shadow. Was he her three o’clock?
If so, she now wished she’d reapplied her Rouge Louboutin Velvet Matte lipstick after her cup of tea. Perhaps living in Knotty would be more than bores and snores after all. A little hot weekend sex would make the months go by faster.
“Thank you,” he said.
About to take a step forward, she paused, left foot dangling above the stair. Hmmm.What do we have here? His voice sounded familiar. She tilted her head to the left and tried to get a look at his profile. Nope. His face, what she could see of it in the shadows, didn’t ring any bells. Perhaps she’d overheard him talking while she’d explored the town last weekend. “Have you come to have your palm read?”
Not waiting for his response, she lifted her floral, floor-length, multi-ruffled skirt and glided down the stairs, aiming to appear like a royal subject entering a magical ball being held in her honor. Not to impress the man. Not much anyway. But mostly because presentation mattered when one read palms for a living. With her skirt, she wore a black long sleeve bodysuit and a headscarf that had beads that dangled over her forehead.
She’d been just as meticulous regarding her appearance when she had practiced law. Only then, instead of every aspect of her projecting flamboyant exuberance, she’d projected the appropriate image of strength and intelligence and the ability to cut your throat in a courtroom without leaving any traces of blood on her Louboutin heels.
At the bottom of the stairs, she got her first shadow-free view of her latest customer. A view that caused her world to tumble and land ass up. Balls. Balls. Balls.
Lisa Wells writes romantic comedy with enough steam to fog your eyeglasses, your brain, and sometimes your Kindle screen. On the other hands, her eighty-year-old mother-in-law has read Lisa’s steamiest book and lived to offer her commentary. Which went something like this: You used words I’ve never heard of…
She lives in Missouri with her husband and slightly-chunky rescue dog. Lisa loves dark chocolate, red wine, and those rare mornings when her skinny jeans fit. Which isn’t often, considering the first two entries on her love-it list.
That’s not what you want to hear when you’re staring into the sea-green eyes of the hottest man you’ve ever seen. Yet I suppose it’s a fair question, considering I’m an uninvited stranger standing in Boone Mason’s kitchen.
If you think that’s bad—just wait. It gets worse.
This charming and wealthy playboy, who can’t pay his bills on time or find his way to the grocery store (but we all have flaws, right?), is sweet. Confident. Playful. He’s almost perfect. And, to make matters worse …
He’s smitten with me.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re rolling your eyes. You’re assuming this is some opposites attract situation—or that maybe we can be friends who turn into something more.
How can this be a bad thing?
Well, it’s simple. I’m not the kind of girl you fall in love with. Just to be sure, the universe reminds me of that in an unforgettable, in-your-face kind of way. I might have broken into Boone’s house, but I won’t let him break my heart. I won’t break his either. There’s too much on the line to be that reckless.
USA Today, Washington Post, and Amazon Charts Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, four sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.
Raised by parents who work deep within the U.S. intelligence agency, Zoe Dixon has picked up a few skills along the way.
When her family moves to a new town, Zoe thinks it’s business as usual. But that all changes when a student turns up dead at her new school. Now, after years of keeping a low profile, Zoe has to decide whether she’ll step out of the shadows and use her skills for good.
As she digs deeper, she’ll uncover shocking truths that will change the course of her life forever.
Awakening is book one in the Zoe Dixon Saga. Fans of Marvel’s Black Widow, J.J. Abrams Alias, and Hit-Girl from Kick-Ass, will love this young adult action-packed suspense thriller.
Zoe quickly washed her face and laced up her shoes before heading down the stairs. She turned right, passing the den, and made her way towards the door underneath the stairs. It was made of solid metal. She reached out, placing her palm against the wood grain to the right side of the door. She could feel the coolness of the hidden scanner that was nestled underneath a thin layer of wood. It scanned her prints, and then a small panel slid open, revealing a keypad. Zoe’s fingers moved quickly as she typed in the eighteen-digit code from memory. The code was random, and her father changed it every three days. She heard the lock click and watched as the door slid open. She stepped in and hurried down the stairs as the door closed behind her.
At the bottom of the stairs was a short hallway that led towards the main room, where the walls and floors were covered in dark gray mats. She found Mia sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, waiting.
“No Mom and Dad yet?” Zoe asked as she sat next to her sister.
“Still upstairs. Are you ready for this?”
“Yeah,” Zoe sighed. “I gotta admit, I was hoping we would get a break tonight.”
“Wishful thinking,” Mia said as she rocked back and forth.
“I guess you’re right. What do you think tonight’s game is going to be?”
“I don’t know but get ready to lose.”
“Yeah, right,” Zoe sneered back at her. “I think it’s going to be all about Cleveland.”
“We haven’t done that one in a while,” Mia said with a nostalgic look.
“You gonna be okay?” Zoe said with fake concern, her tone full of mocking.
Mia flung out her hand, swatting Zoe’s arm. “Ha ha. I’m more than okay.”
“We’ll see,” Zoe said.
Carl and Sofia Dixon entered the room, each carrying a set of thick metal chains. Zoe glanced at Mia as if to say, I told you so, as the girls stood.
“Zoe to the right,” their mom called out in a no-nonsense voice. Both girls moved towards the one section of wall not covered by mats. It was solid gray brick. Towards the middle of the wall embedded in the brick were several thick steel rings. Zoe sat on the floor directly underneath one of the rings, pressing her back against the icy wall.
“Hands up,” her mom said. Zoe lifted her hands and waited while her mother chained her to the wall.
Poppy grew up in Cleveland Ohio, where books played an enormous role in her upbringing. She started writing when she realized she had a few stories of her own to tell. When she’s not typing away at her keyboard, you’ll find her playing video games, or listening to K-Pop!
