“Then, trust that I know what I’m doing. I’m not as weak as I let everyone believe, even you. There are reasons why I’m doing things the way I am. When I have all the pieces lined up, there’s going to be a lot of truth tea spilled. Tea that Uncle is going to drown in.”
“And Nik is part of the plan?”
“He’s…” I trailed off as my gaze locked on the very man.
He stood in the hallway outside of the ballroom with a phone to his ear. His dark, penetrating gaze studied me in a way I should have been used to by now, but always felt as if it was the first time. Everything inside me clenched in response.
Fuck.
He was gorgeous in the way that gave a woman heart palpitations, and no woman around him was immune.
Those broad shoulders and muscled arms gave truth to the rumors he spent more time than not in the boxing ring and probably meant there wasn’t an ounce of unnecessary fat on his body. Then there were those piercing almost-black eyes that seemed to see too much with a simple look. And finally, his face looked as if it had been created by the discerning eye of a sculptor’s chisel, but was the result of the beautiful union between his Afro-Trinidadian mother and Indian father.
The one thing that kept him from looking too perfect was the dusting of a beard, which only added to the unrefined edge he carried naturally. His whole aura made a woman think of all the wickedly delicious things he could do to her body.
I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run my fingers across his jaw just once. Or to kiss those lips I’d dreamed about over too many restless nights.
Nope, dammit, Danika. Don’t go there. Put him back in that box of impossibilities. Well, at least for a little longer.
Maybe one day I could allow myself a taste, or if I was lucky, a night to indulge.
“What are you looking at? Oh.” Jayna nudged me, snapping my attention back to her. “Are you sure you don’t want Nik to be a bigger part of your plan than these games from afar?”
I swallowed, pushing down my thought from moments earlier, and said, “He’s a complication I can’t afford right now.”
Inspired by her years working in corporate America, Sienna loves to serve up stories woven around confident and successful women who know what they want and how to get it, both in – and out – of the bedroom.
Her heroines are fresh, well-educated, and often find love and romance through atypical circumstances. Sienna treats her readers to enticing slices of hot romance infused with empowerment and indulgent satisfaction.
Sienna loves the life of travel and adventure. She plans to visit even the farthest corners of the world and delight in experiencing the variety of cultures along the way. When she isn’t writing or traveling, Sienna is working on her “happily ever after” with her husband and children.
After a scarring experience her freshman year of college, she’s decided she’d much rather have something fun than something serious.
Her best friend Miller has seen it all—the tears, the parties, the drunken phone calls at four in the morning when she needed a ride. In fact, there might be several things Miller saw that Jo herself can’t remember.
Things Miller can’t forget.
With the whirlwind of senior year underway, Jo just wants to move on, get her degree, and land her dream job. But her past might not be as easy to outrun as she’d hoped.
The Anti-Relationship Year is a friends to lovers college romance that acts as a companion to The Anti-Virginity Pact. Both books can be read as standalones.
She sucked in a lungful of air as she plunged out the side door. The night was cold, but every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire. She scowled at the line of people waiting on the driveway—it would take forever to get a DD. The music pulsed out onto the lawn, and she covered her ears, trying to block out the words.
When that didn’t work, she started walking.
“Where are you going?” someone yelled after her, but she ignored them and headed across the backyard while simultaneously trying to get her phone out of her bra. She squinted at the screen, trying to force her vision to focus, and jabbed the call button, hoping she’d found the right contact.
“Hello?” Miller’s voice was rough, like she’d just woken him up. She squinted again at the screen, trying to see the time.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—have called. It’s late.”
“Jo?” There was rustling in the background. “Where are you?”
“I’m f-fine. I’m just gonna walk home.”
“Walk home?” Miller’s voice was clearer now, louder. “Jo, it’s like ten degrees outside. Where are you?”
“It’s only like a block from the frat houses. I’ll be finnnne.”
“Jo, that’s like three miles. I’m coming to get you.”
Jo paused on the sidewalk and glanced both ways. The street was utterly empty, and her vision was too blurry to see the signs. “Which way do I go again?”
“Jo,” Miller snapped, his voice suddenly hard. “Stop walking. Go inside somewhere. I’m leaving the dorm now.”
“It’s a little cold out here,” she mumbled.
“You think?”
“Miller.” She sighed, paced back over to the grass, and laid down. The entire world wobbled around her, the ground bobbing up and down like she was on a boat. “I’m a liiiiittle drunk.”
“I can tell.”
She pushed her bottom lip out. “Are you mad?”
“No, Jo, I’m not mad.” She heard a car engine roar to life on the other end of the phone. “Are you inside?”
“I’m in some grass.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “Okay, I’m using Find My Friends. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Can people freeze to death in five minutes?”
“Not people who go inside. What are you wearing out there anyway?”
“Ooooh, what are you wearing?”
“Jo.”
She sighed, put the phone on speaker, and tossed it aside so she could run her hands through the grass. It was hard and crunchy, like it had frosted over, and she realized her teeth were chattering. Maybe a tube top hadn’t been the right call. But it had been so hot inside the party.
“You have a hot over-the-phone voice, Miller,” Jo murmured. “You should be a phone sex operator.”
He made a choking sound.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed before headlights appeared on her right, and Jo sat up, squinting against them. If it wasn’t Miller, whoever was behind the wheel was probably going to think she was dead lying there. She climbed to her feet, then doubled back for her phone. When she turned around again, the car was stopped in the middle of the street, and the driver’s side door flew open. Miller appeared in pajama pants, bare feet, and a hoodie. He hurried toward the sidewalk, yanking his hoodie off as he went, even though he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Before Jo could react, he tugged the sweatshirt over her head. She blinked at him—or the two versions of him—standing in front of her. He had abs? Since when did Miller have abs?
Katie Wismer is a diehard pig-lover, semi-obsessive gym rat, and longtime sucker for a well-written book. She studied creative writing and sociology at Roanoke College and now lives in Colorado with her cats Max and Dean. She spends most of her free time on her Youtube channel Katesbookdate where she chats about books, life, and veganism. You can find her online at katiewismer.com or @katesbookdate on Instagram and Twitter.
They both know the pain of loss and how to protect their hearts…but fate has a way of stepping in…
When a kitchen fire forces young widow Elle Brooks to move in with her friend Bryn and her motley collection of rescue animals, she doesn’t foresee ending up in the muscled arms of handsome cowboy and veterinarian Brody Tate. But she can’t deny the feelings that being close to Brody are stirring in her. Spending time with the hunky cowboy and his adorable young daughter as they rehabilitate rescued horses reminds Elle of all she lost in a car crash years ago.
As a widower himself, Brody is devoted to being a good dad for his spirited daughter. He hasn’t let romance even enter his head. But now he’s met Elle. Spending time with her is shaking up the calm he’s worked so hard to achieve, and he can’t seem to get this woman off his mind.
Elle and Brody have both lost people they loved, but their mutual attraction and growing feelings are too strong to ignore. The hope of a future together is a beautiful possibility, but can these two wounded souls take a chance on each other and find the courage to love again?
She stepped up to the counter, bumping her hip against Brody’s as she squished in next to him. “Anything I can do to help you?” She surveyed the perfect circles of batter bubbling on the griddle. “Wow, Mandy was right. You are an excellent pancake maker.”
“Just wait until you taste them,” he said. “Melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Add a little butter and some warm syrup, and you’ll think your mouth has died and gone to heaven.”
Speaking of melting, she was softening like heated butter just listening to him describe the meal. Between the rumble of his deep voice and the sinful-sounding description, her stomach was doing little flips that had to do with more than just excitement about the food. Since when did a stack of pancakes turn into an orgasmic experience? Apparently since Brody Tate was the six-foot-plus chef flipping them.
“I can’t wait to take a taste.” Of the pancakes and of you, her inner vixen spoke up. Whoa, Elle hadn’t heard from her in a long time. But suddenly, with the arrival of Brody in her life, the saucy minx part of her mind was back and ready for action.
No. No action, Elle told herself. She was definitely not ready for action.
You were ready for that kiss last night, her vixen argued. And you’re standing close enough to Brody to feel more than heat from the griddle.
Her hip was pressed against his, and she could feel the warmth of him, even through the fabric of her leggings. She took a tiny step to the side.
“They’re almost done,” he said, flipping the final one. The undersides were golden brown, the edges crisp, and the scent of warm vanilla wafted up from the griddle. “And they’ll be worth the wait.” He peered down at her, then laughed as he lifted his hand. “You’ve still got flour on your face.”
He brushed her cheek, pausing for just a second to let the ends of his fingertips linger on her skin. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she leaned in, just the slightest bit, to his touch.
Instead of lowering his hand, he raised it tenderly to cup her cheek. The feel of his hand on her face had her breathless—such a small gesture, the lightest touch. It had been so long since a man had touched her so intimately.
She dared to risk a glance at him as she tipped her face up to his. He was staring directly into her eyes, and she was stunned at the raw hunger she saw in his gaze. And even more astonished at the same kind of wanton passion spiraling through her.
His gaze dropped to her lips, and her knees went weak. She gripped the edge of the counter, the hard surface offering something solid to cling to, to keep her from falling into the depths of this man’s gaze. Was he going to kiss her again? A real kiss this time? Not an accidental brush of connection, but a deliberate crush of his mouth on hers? Her lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. There was no questioning his intention—he was going to kiss her, and every part of her yearned for the connection.
Jennie Marts is the USA TODAY Best-selling author of award-winning books filled with love, laughter, and always a happily ever after. Readers call her books “laugh out loud” funny and the “perfect mix of romance, humor, and steam.” Fic Central claimed one of her books was “the most fun I’ve had reading in years.” She is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two dogs, and a parakeet that loves to tweet to the oldies. She’s addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos, and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes, or friends.
Her books include the contemporary western romance Hearts of Montana series, the romantic comedy/ cozy mysteries of The Page Turners series, the hunky hockey-playing men in the Bannister family in the Bannister Brothers Books, and the small-town romantic comedies in the Lovestruck series of Cotton Creek Romances.
Jennie loves to hear from readers. Follow her on Facebook at Jennie Marts Books, or Twitter at @JennieMarts. Visit her at www.jenniemarts.com and sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest news and releases.
Princess Aria has been exchanging letters with the most marvelous man in the world. Perhaps her true love is somewhat aged, and perhaps she didn’t feel fireworks when they met briefly at a ball, but she is certain now that there is no man as wonderful as the Duke of Framingham. She is overjoyed when he proposes marriage.
When Rupert’s cousin, an elderly duke, tells him he’s fallen in love with a beautiful woman and needs someone to write letters on his behalf, Rupert reluctantly agrees. His cousin claims he is eager to wed her. On his wedding day, Rupert learns that the duke plans to toss her off his balcony so he can marry his mistress. The duke just wants the princess’s money, and Rupert knows he has to rescue her.
Princess Aria is astonished when she is kidnapped by a young man. She’s in love with the duke—after all, he’s sent her such wonderful letters for weeks. Soon, though, they are on the run together to London. If only Rupert were the man who’d sent her such lovely letters.
The place didn’t look like a murderer’s lair. It looked cute and adorable, like some architect had designed it after reading children’s tales for a year. Rose bushes lined the outside of the house, and she inhaled their sweet floral scent and reached out to touch a petal.
Her hand snagged against a thorn, and she withdrew her hand hastily. The calm she’d felt was once again replaced by unease. It was impossible to trust a man who’d kidnapped her, no matter how kind he might appear.
Her kidnapper unlocked the door, and she entered the cottage. He closed the door, then removed her gag. “I doubt anyone could hear you if you screamed.”
“Is that supposed to calm me?”
“It’s a fact.”
Galileo perked up his ears and began to bark. She tightened her grip on him. “He senses that you’re dangerous.”
“He senses we’re going to have company.”
Aria trembled. She didn’t need more people to threaten her. Perhaps Demon had been right all along. Her bodyguard had been adamant that danger was always lurking, and she’d always scoffed, seeing his presence as a hindrance to relaxation rather than as a happy fact that could ease her worries.
She’d been wrong.
The very first time he’d given her space—on her wedding night, she’d been kidnapped.
She hoped he would be notified of her disappearance soon. The duke would have gone to visit her bedroom. The alarm should be raised by now. Certainly the duke’s men and her bodyguard were scouring the countryside for her now, and if the duke suspected his cousin was behind her disappearance, they might even come here soon.
She inhaled. It would be fine. It had to be.
Galileo’s barks became more ferocious, and she soothed him and stroked his back.
“The dog makes things difficult,” her kidnapper said. “I didn’t know you had one.”
“My father gifted me him for my wedding and new life.”
“How splendid,” her kidnapper said faintly.
She stared at him. “Do you not like dogs?”
“I do,” her kidnapper said. “I just know someone else who might not. I suggest you hold onto him tightly.”
Her kidnapper left the room, and Aria scrutinized her surroundings. The place didn’t seem nefarious. Lace curtains, designed more to bring in life than to hide dubious activities from the world, lined the windows. The walls were papered a pretty pale blue, and floral-patterned pillows lay languidly on fluffy armchairs. The cottage lacked the splendors of the castle. The ceilings were low and cozy, but even though the cottage was cold, she was certain it normally would be a quite pleasant location.
Footsteps headed toward her, and too late she remembered that she should have used this opportunity to grab a vase or pick up a chair to toss at her abductor. Her heartbeat quickened, she glanced around the room—and the door opened.
In the next moment, her kidnapper reappeared. He was carrying something white in his arms. Something that caused Galileo’s barks to grow more agitated. Something that looked curiously fluffy.
She stared. “Is that a cat?”
Her kidnapper beamed. “Indeed.”
“What are you doing with it?” “Bringing it, of course,” he said lightly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for kidnappers to travel with their pets. “We’ll be gone for a while.”
Born in Texas, Bianca Blythe spent four years in England. She worked in a fifteenth-century castle, though sadly that didn’t actually involve spotting dukes and earls strutting about in Hessians.
She credits British weather for forcing her into a library, where she discovered her first Julia Quinn novel. She remains deeply grateful for blustery downpours.
After meeting her husband in another library, she moved with him to sunny California, though on occasion she still dreams of the English seaside, scones with clotted cream, and sheep-filled pastures. For now, she visits them in her books.
Title: Oops, I’ve Fallen Author: Max Monroe Genre: Romantic, Stepbrother Comedy
If my time with Ryan Miller were a hit track on the radio, I imagine the lyrics would go something like this…
“We’re so different, but they say opposites attract. Oops, I’ve fallen, and my heart doesn’t want to come back.”
But, holy bingo night, is my attraction to the sexy, broody businessman so much more complicated than the chorus of a song.
His dad lives right next to my mom, and after the two of them suffered an unexplained accident while taking down holiday decorations, both Ryan and I were forced to become the only thirtysomething residents of Sunny Creek Village Independent Senior Living Community.
Temporarily moving in might seem like overkill for a fractured tailbone and a severely pulled groin muscle, but believe me, when your mom is as wild as mine and your dad is as cantankerous as Ryan’s, they need supervision to ensure they stick to doctor’s orders.
Constantly thrown together by the antics of our crazy parents and the tough-as-nails community enforcer, Betty Matthews, Ryan and I formed an alliance for the sole purpose of survival.
But I never expected to be so interested in finding out what he was hiding beneath his grumpy, serious demeanor. More than that, I never dreamed what I found would be the kind of man women sell their souls to the devil for.
Unfortunately, our little one-hit wonder on the airwaves has more to say before it comes to an end.
Although, finishing the outro to this song is a real doozy… Tell me…what lyric rhymes with Oops, I’ve fallen for my future stepbrother?
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads. Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
Title: A Lair So Sinful Author: Zoey Ellis Genre: Fantasy Romance
From a dark, magic-ravaged world comes an enthralling new fantasy romance series. Five brothers, last of an ancient Alpha bloodline, each bound by fire and blood to their majestic dragons.
Captive in a dragon lord’s lair. No memory. Stripped bare.
I’mya awakens to find herself the property of Nyro—a rare and powerful Alpha bonded to a monstrous dragon. Like the other women in the lair, her only purpose is to satiate his every fantasy, but the beautiful omega is hiding a dark secret—even from herself.
From the first explosive encounter with Nyro, her incredible power is unleashed.
His carnal desires feed the fire of her magic.
Nyro’s captivation with her turns to possession, and I’mya becomes more than a plaything for him.
But as shards of her memories puzzle back together, her mind finally unveils the compelling truth.
A purpose much more sinister than pleasure.
Passion. Obsession. Betrayal. I’mya must fulfill her quest, regardless of the cost. Nyro has conquered her body, but if he discovers the truth behind her presence in his lair… it is her life he will take.
I’mya inched her head up to see if the dragon had gone, but instead a figure loomed over her, blocking her view.
It spoke, and a deep, rich voice vibrated through the entire area, penetrating her body and sending a rush along her limbs, but its words were not clear.
I’mya lifted her head, blinking at it.
A man loomed over her. He had wide, muscled shoulders, toned arms and a broad chest with a torso that tapered down to a slimmer waist; his legs just as thick as his arms. In truth, he was a perfectly formed man—except he was enormous.
Dark, tousled hair fell to the top of his ears, and a low-cut dark beard spread over the lower half of his chiseled face. Long lashes framed the dark fury of his eyes, directed at her as he stepped forward.
I’mya panicked, but she couldn’t move. She was too weak to do anything. Thankfully the dragon was no longer attacking, but she heard the sound of its wings beating beyond the opening of the cavern. She wasn’t exactly out of harm’s way, especially when she didn’t know this man’s intentions. This mountain lair, or whatever the grey-cloaked woman called it, was a dangerous place to be.
She had to get out.
The giant man lunged forward, and I’mya squeaked as his hand closed around her neck. He yanked her upward until she was on her feet, then he leaned in, his dark eyes peering at her face, and her naked body. “’et khadon yo ma si kon’aya” The words boomed out of him and vibrated against her chest, even though I’mya was certain he wasn’t shouting. She tried to shake her head, eager to explain she was here by mistake, but it was impossible to swallow let alone speak.
“ko’lat ‘et numakh tmo’ shaf bok ma si tumezni?”
Surely he wasn’t expecting her to respond? Not with his fist so tightly wrapped around her neck? I’mya exhaled in annoyance, her nostrils flaring.
The man’s head tilted, a brow inching down to a frown as he studied her again. I’mya hoped she didn’t look like a trespasser, or even worse, a criminal. This might be the only time that being naked might work in her favor, though it wasn’t as though she looked good. This place was too hot. Sweat slicked her skin and her hair had to be a ragged mess. Hopefully she looked so out of place that this giant would discard her so she could get as far away from the Forbidden Mountain as possible. “Kev,” he murmured, dragging his eyes down at her body again, lingering in places they shouldn’t. His eyes darkened. “si zmusho da dvan. ‘Et lat tan itzutz de da tzo kon’aya.”
I’mya had no idea what he was saying, but the bass of his tone and the look in his eyes ignited a tingle in the pit of her stomach and the most delicate shiver skipped up her spine. The man’s scent was equally provocative. Rich, decadent tones of charred darkness emanated from him, as though he had bathed in the flame and smoke of a thousand midnights. It was potent and intoxicating, and affected her just as powerfully as his voice. Within moments, her nipples hardened, and the tingle in her stomach developed into an ache between her legs. An even darker look entered the man’s gaze as his nostrils flared.
Zoey Ellis writes dark, magical, fantasy romances about tortured, possessive, alpha anti-heroes and the sassy heroines who belong to them (even if they don’t want to!). Filled with passionate, carnal steam, Zoey’s stories feature couples that go through tough journeys and make mistakes but ultimately have to grow for each other to survive the dark worlds they inhabit.
Described as ‘deliciously dark’ and ‘unputdownable’, Zoey’s thrilling, fantastical romances come complete with roller-coaster twists and turns, unique worlds, and happy endings.
Zoey is a Londoner, cat mama, and proud romance and epic fantasy addict. She loves jealous/possessive heroes, sexual tension that jumps off the page, and memorable, magical worlds. She reads most genres of romance and has a special love for the ‘true mates’ trope and dark angst. However, she enjoys all different genres of fiction, usually on the darker side.
When not working on her stories, Zoey is usually gaming, buddying reading with friends or stumbling upon new and ridiculous ways to mess up a date!
The Witches of Vegas are back, and their lives will never be the same again.
A year has passed since The Witches of Vegas saved the city from the evil Wiccan vampire, Valeria. Since then, the show has hit an all-time high. So has the romance between teen witch Isis Rivera and teenage magician, Zack Galloway.
Things couldn’t be any better for them until Isis develops seizures that cause her power to spiral out of control. Fires and earthquakes are just the beginning of the chaos caused by the misfired witchcraft. Unable to find a cure, Isis’ family journeys to New Salem, a fabled village of witches which may or may not even exist. Meanwhile, Zack ends up face to face with the only being who may have a cure…Valeria. But does he dare pay her price?
“I’d like a mimosa.” Isis glanced over at Zack’s tilted head. “I’ve always wanted to try one.”
The bartender snorted. “I’m going to need to see I.D. for that.”
Isis had learned a lot about her connection to the planet’s energy and how to manipulate it. Her mom and Sacha trained her on moving objects while her dad taught her how to create illusions. Dad also knew how to use his connection to force hypnotic suggestions into people’s minds. Although he hadn’t yet taught that skill to Isis, she had seen him do it more than a few times. It basically ran on the same principle as all the other reality-manipulating powers of a witch. Time to put it to the test.
Isis reached into her pocketbook and pulled out her hotel room keycard. She looked the bartender directly in the eyes. “I am showing you my I.D. and it says I am old enough to drink an alcoholic beverage.” She focused her thoughts on the bartender’s mind. “You see my picture and my age at twenty-one. Now that you have seen my age, you can place a mimosa on the counter for me to try.”
The bartender laughed. “That was cute. Two club sodas coming up.” She reached under the counter and placed two bottles in front of Isis and Zack. “That’ll be eight bucks. You can leave it on the counter.” She then moved onto another group of customers.
“Well, damn.” Isis shook her head. “That didn’t work out at all. I guess hypnosis just isn’t my thing.”
Isis held out her open palm, pointed at the club sodas. One bottle glided across the countertop to her hand like a piece of metal being pulled to a magnet. At least that ability was still working.
“Or maybe your heart just wasn’t into committing a crime.” Zack reached for his bottle and picked it up off the counter.
“I’m sure you’re right.” Isis took a swig of the soda while staring off at the dance floor. “Still, I wonder why her blood tastes like syrup.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Zack’s face whipped her way. His eyes squinted.
“What?”
“Did you just say something about tasting the bartender’s blood?”
“Did I say that?” Isis honestly couldn’t remember those words coming out of her mouth, yet they sounded so familiar.
Zack stood from his bar stool and clenched her wrist. “Isis, are you all right?”
Isis stared at the strobe light above the dance floor. Somehow, it seemed brighter, or darker. Or… something. She could hear Zack shouting her name. It echoed as if they were on opposite ends of a tunnel. A striking pain crossed her chest. Everything around her blurred, just like when she’d teleport herself to a new location. But she was sure that wasn’t what was happening. She inhaled but couldn’t catch her breath. “Zack, I think I’m not…okay…” Did she say that out loud or did she think it? Isis couldn’t be sure.
Her attention turned back to the bar from the sound of one or both bottles exploding. Her forearm stung from a piece of glass piercing her skin. Zack called out her name. Then everything went dark.
Mark Rosendorf ‘s writing is based on the personalities and experiences he has come across throughout his life, coupled with his own wild “if only I could do that” imagination. He is the author of the young adult series, The Witches of Vegas. He is also credited with The Rasner Effect series, a suspense/thriller trilogy published between 2009 and 2012.
Born November, 25th, 1974, and raised in Queens New York, Mark holds a Master’s Degree from Long Island University’s Human Development and Leadership program. He is a licensed Guidance Counselor for the New York City Department of Education’s special education district. He began his counseling career in September, 2001. Prior to that, he worked in the hotel industry.
Mark has also moonlighted as a professional magician. Today, he teaches magic and Illusion to his students in order to teach teamwork while developing their confidence.
Having accomplished his goals of becoming an author, Mark decided on an early retirement from writing. Then, one night, at two a.m., a new and unique story shot into Mark’s brain like a lightning bolt, screaming for him to write it. Mark found himself spending several nights taking notes on the characters and their stories. That is how The Witches of Vegas series was born.
The Witches of Vegas placed second in the young adult category of The International Digital Awards. It was also named one of Shelf Unbound’s Notable Indy and received a five star rating from the prestigious InD’Tale Magazine.
As an affiliate at retail sites, I earn a small commission from qualifying purchases. See my disclosure for more details.
Three Reasons You Should Read This Hallmark Cozy Mystery:
Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews is a cozy romance with a bookstore twist – with lots of references to books and book covers for literature lovers to enjoy.
We are given a good cast of potential murderers – and they all have some motive and opportunity – which will keep you guessing until the end.
Marvey is a great character with such a fun and curious personality, you will love solving crimes with her.
Marvey, a librarian, has moved from Brooklyn to a quirky small town in Georgia. When she’s not at the library organizing events for readers, she’s handcrafting book-themed jewelry and looking after her cranky cat. At times, her new life in the South still feels strange…and that’s before the discovery of the dead body in the bookstore.
After one of her friends becomes a suspect, Marvey sets out to solve the murder mystery. She even convinces Spence, the wealthy and charming newspaper owner, to help. With his ties to the community, her talents for research, and her fellow librarians’ knowledge, Marvey pursues the truth. But as she gets closer to it, could she be facing a deadly plot twist?
Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews pits the librarian and bookseller of a small town against a murder. Marvey the librarian is determined to clear her book-seller friend’s name when a local author turns up dead in her store room during a book signing. The police want to wrap the case up quickly and think she’s the obvious suspect, but they can’t give a motive for why she would have done it.
Marvey digs in and enlists the help of her friends and fellow librarians to help. Throughout her investigation, she finds out that not everyone is what they seem at first, that small town gossip mills are often wrong, and to never rule anyone out at the beginning. I was a little disappointed that the library and research didn’t play into the story too much. They really relied on talking to townspeople at the beginning, and it was a mess of conflicting information for everyone. In the end, a vital piece of research turns the tide though.
The friendships and community (especially the library employees) really stood out in this book. The way everyone banded together to help really showcased how close they had become since Marvey moved into town. It was also a good introduction to the town and its residents. I think there is a lot of potential here for some great mysteries going forward.
**I voluntarily reviewed a complimentary copy of this book**
Title: Wallflower Author: Cookie O’Gorman Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Romance
Wallflower (wohl-flou-erh): Identifier for someone who is shy and/or awkward. For reference, see Viola Kent.
Seventeen-year-old Viola Kent likes being invisible. Well, not literally, but she’s content being a loner, reading her books, and hanging out with the animals at the shelter. She just wants to keep her head down and get through her senior year at Durham High.
Driving Dare Frost to school every day wasn’t part of the plan.
And when Viola finds out her dad recruited Dare, his number one player, to be her friend?
Her inner Slytherin demands revenge.
The solution: Get Dare to be her fake boyfriend.
Convincing the star athlete to pretend is easier than she’d thought it would be. The hard part is protecting her heart. With every word, touch, and kiss, Viola’s feelings become more real.
The problem: Viola knows she’s falling for Dare—but he doesn’t believe in love.
This book features two sets of soulmates, one happy pooch named Hermione, so many sizzling kisses and answers the question:
Can a dork and a jock fake their way to true love?
This had to be a dream, I thought. Either that or a hallucination.
Standing in our driveway, leaning back against my little Honda, hands in his pockets like he was Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles or something, was a guy who knew he looked good even in sweats and a hoodie.
Dare Frost.
His six-foot-three frame dwarfed my car. Dare was the last person I expected to see waiting outside my house on my last first day of high school. I was so surprised it took me a second to find my voice.
But Dare just cocked his head.
“Morning flower,” he said. “Better hurry or we’ll be late.”
I shook myself out of it. “Are you lost?”
“Nope, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
“What are you even doing here?” I asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He held his hands out, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m here to bum a ride to school. Speaking of, could you pop the locks?” Dare rubbed his hands together. “It’s a little chilly out here.”
I laughed, couldn’t help it. “Are you crazy? Dare, I’m not taking you to school.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No. I’m not.”
Dare shrugged. “Coach said you would.”
My jaw dropped. “He did what? When? Why?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” he said. “But yeah, your dad and I talked the other day after practice. He said you’d give me a ride because we live so close to each other. Said it would be no problem. I run by your house every morning anyway. Plus, my car’s in the shop for repairs.”
“Didn’t you just get that car?” I asked.
The question made Dare smile for some reason. “You keeping tabs on me, Vi?”
I choked. “What? No!” “Hey, no worries,” he said. “I’m not mad about it. A lot of girls do it. Just wasn’t aware you were one of them.”
Cookie O’Gorman writes YA & NA romance to give readers a taste of happily-ever-after. Small towns, quirky characters, and the awkward yet beautiful moments in life make up her books. Cookie also has a soft spot for nerds and ninjas. Her novels ADORKABLE, NINJA GIRL, The Unbelievable, Inconceivable, Unforeseeable Truth About Ethan Wilder, The Good Girl’s Guide to Being Bad and WALLFLOWER are out now! She is also the author of NA sports romance, The Best Mistake.
Ariella I moved in with Jaxson after the attack. It’s hard to keep my hands off him, but he’s my boss. He’s given me a job at Eagle Tactical as his subordinate.
I don’t take orders well, especially from a grumpy boss. He’s about just as grumpy as his toddler when she skips her afternoon nap.
Jaxson I vowed to protect Ariella. That’s how much she means to me, but she’s gotten under my skin with her know everything attitude and sassy hip sway that has my body in overdrive.
I swore I’d never do a one-night stand. Is that what she thinks we shared? Is that why she hates me?
I don’t know how much longer I can wake up under the same roof, go to work with her, and not throw her down on the bed.
We have a mission that takes priority, but how can I keep my mind on the job when she’s always in the room, and I want to bend her over the desk?
I didn’t dare gaze into the eyes of the man who bought me. Thanks to my stepbrother, Nikolai, I belonged to Franco, his second in command in the mafia.
“Next week you’ll be my bride,” Franco said, his teeth yellowing and crooked. He grabbed my jaw and yanked my face closer to his for a kiss. His breath smelled of vomit. My stomach recoiled.
We stood outside his black sedan, the door open. I was to go with him. I’d sooner starve myself to death. That was still a possibility after I went with the man who I was engaged to marry.
Bile rose to my throat, and I swallowed the burning acid as it slid back down. I kept my mouth sealed shut, but it didn’t stop him from planting his thick dry lips against mine. His tongue pushed at my mouth rough and forceful, but I refused to grant him access. The scum-sucking vermin could kiss the soles of my feet.
I wanted to kill my stepbrother but not before I took out Franco.
Franco’s thick hand palmed my hair, his fingers tangled in my locks before he yanked hard, bringing my face to his. “Other girls should be as lucky as you.”
My stepbrother was nowhere to be found. Typical. Sell me and move on, like I meant nothing to him. I was a piece of property. That was it.
Franco shoved me toward the back door of his sedan.
Oh hell, no. I had the upper hand now, with only Franco and his driver. If I made it to his house, who knew the danger that awaited, how many men I’d be forced to fight or what other security measures would exist.
“Get off me!” I slammed my elbow into his stomach and stomped on his toes before kneeing him in the crotch.
His driver lifted his gun, pointing it at my head.
“Please, you’d be doing me a favor,” I said. I’d sooner die than marry him.
“Don’t shoot her!” Franco pushed the gun away from the driver, lowering the barrel.
I pulled back my fist, landing another blow, this one to Franco’s face before his hand yanked my hair and slammed my head into the side of the car.
The world spun and nausea swept over me.
He shoved my body into the back of the vehicle, slammed the door shut, and stomped around to the front passenger side.
“Don’t puke on the interior, Bitch.”
The car engine started.
My vision blurred, but I felt for the door handle and gave it a hard pull. Damn child safety locks. It didn’t open.
Roar. I flew back against the seat as the driver slammed on the gas. The tires squealed, and my nose tickled with the scent of burning rubber. The skyline grew smaller in the distance as we tore out of the city. Where the hell were we going? Where did Franco live?
“Where are you taking me?” I rubbed my eyes, confused and tired. The blurred vision was getting better, but I still felt like I’d been run over by a car.
“Home sweet home, Darling. We’re going to Russia.”
Russia wasn’t my home. I’d never been out of the country. My fingers stroked the white gold locket against my neck, the only token of my mother that I had left, a gift from my deceased father.
I wasn’t going to Russia or any other country with Franco.
I shoved my hand into my pocket and retrieved my cell phone. I turned it on silent and sent out a text requesting help. I didn’t know how long I had until the flight or until they searched me. I’d been foolish not to bring a knife or at the very least mace with me, some kind of weapon to defend myself.
I had memorized Mason’s number, having stalked him online. It had been years since we’d seen each other. We’d gone to boarding school together. He had joined the army after high school, and I had been sent to live with my father.
It was no secret he worked for the security firm Eagle Tactical. I couldn’t call them. It would be too risky. I hoped that their business line could receive texts. I didn’t have Mason’s personal number; it appeared to be unlisted.
Mason, I need your help. Please track my phone and come for me. I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t life or death – my death. Hazel It was short and to the point. It’s all I could do. I hoped it would go through and he’d come for me.
Willow has loved writing since she was in high school (many ages ago). Her small town romances are reflective of living in a small town in rural America. Whether she’s writing romance or sitting outside by the bonfire reading a good book, Willow loves the magic of the written word. She dreams of being swept off her feet and hopes to do that to her readers!
