Art dealer Sasha Montgomery is both nervous and thrilled to be invited to the Caldorian Earth Base for her best friend’s wedding to an alien warrior. One, she’s never seen an alien up close, and two, she made a promise to be there, no matter how much the idea of being surrounded by hundreds of huge alien warriors frightens her.
She thinks she’s got it all under control, until Dagan, the groom’s best friend, crashes the wedding. He’s smoking hot—way too hot to be an alien—and determined to seduce her.
Sasha gives in to passion with unexpected consequences. Ancient power rises in response to their new-found bond, and the once innocent Sasha discovers that Dagan has been keeping secrets. He’s not just another warrior, he’s a king, and the power rising between them hasn’t been seen in a millennium.
Sasha must learn to control the force clawing its way through her body…or destroy them all.
Sasha turned back toward Dagan but couldn’t meet his eyes as he stepped in so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Her feet stubbornly refused her silent command to move back and she nervously smoothed her hair. Why doesn’t he say something? Or move back?
Dagan did neither, and Sasha shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. Is he waiting for me to do it? Her throat constricted, and all she could manage to get out was a mousy squeak. With agonizing slowness, she forced herself to raise her eyes one inch at a time. Huge black boots that came up to mid-calf. He’s standing way too close. She inhaled his ruggedly masculine scent. And, of course he smells amazing. Sasha closed her eyes and breathed him in a second time. A cool minty breath whispered across her cheek and she opened her eyes. Was it her imagination or had he moved even closer? Was he trying to crowd her? Sasha’s breathing grew shallow and choppy. She took a small step back, but he not only followed her, he took one of her dainty hands in his, dwarfing it completely. Her nipples tingled as his thumb stroked unhurriedly back across and in between each knuckle. Her breath hitched and she took another step back. He followed. She tugged her hand, and he squeezed gently but refused to release it. Why didn’t he take the hint and let go, she wondered? He’d just arrived from Caldor? He must not know how much humans like their personal space because he was very much in hers, and the proximity was sending her into meltdown.
“Dagan,” she whispered as she raised her free hand, trembling and unsure, to signal him to stop and move back, but he was already so close her fingertips brushed up against his rock-hard abs. She gasped as she felt his muscles contract at the contact. She squeezed her eyes shut as a bolt of pleasure zinged down her spine, all the way to her core. She jerked her tingling fingers away and took another step back in retreat. She was going to die; she just knew it.
He’s just so big and intimidating up close. Even shirtless, he looks ready for battle. Or sex. Sasha blushed nervously. She hadn’t said that out loud, had she?
Sasha worked her gaze up another notch. His shoulders were mouth-wateringly broad and well-defined, and his dark blue markings were fascinating up close, the artist in her nearly transfixed by the hint of sparkling opalescent fire inside the dark whorls. Sasha stared until he gently cleared his throat. The sound drew her eyes reluctantly upward just in time to see him swallow. His lips twitched, like he was holding in a laugh. His nose was straight and the perfect size for his face. Not daring to meet his eyes again, Sasha skipped up to his forehead. Please, God, just get this over with. Either let go or shake hands, or whatever it is you do and go away so that you won’t see me melt into a mindless puddle. Finally, she looked into his twinkling eyes.
“Sasha Montgomery of Earth, please forgive me for frightening you earlier today. I am Dagan Tiranon of Caldor.”
Sasha barely had time to register what he’d said in his deep, rumbling bass before he moved his hands to her waist and lifted her up like she weighed nothing at all, bringing her in to rest against his chest.
“What are you doing?” Sasha squeaked. She pushed against his shoulders and wriggled to make him put her down, but he didn’t budge. He didn’t even seem to notice she was trying to get away.
“I am greeting you, little one, as humans do,” Dagan rumbled. “I am new to your world but I have been watching how you greet each other. I would like to share in your traditions. I believe you call it hugging.”
Becca Brayden spends her days writing and her nights dreaming up her next hot adventure with even hotter alien hunks. A Colorado native, she has lived in New Zealand, Florida, Alabama, Kansas and loves to travel in direct proportion to how much she hates to cook. Chocolate makes her happy, licorice makes her cringe, and despite the cult following – she hates pumpkin pie and pumpkin spice lattes. (More for you!) Natural wanderlust has given her a deep love for Mediterranean food and a bookshelf filled with everything from philosophy to sexy romance.
She believes that if we are to save our great planet and all its amazing inhabitants, we must put aside our differences and collectively work together!!
You can catch her enjoying a cup of hot cocoa at her website www.BeccaBrayden.com
Life is bad after the apocalypse . . . the undead just made it worse.
“My dreams pre-pandemic included a high school graduation party before attending college and marrying an attractive future lawyer. Instead, I’m praying for a long, sharp knife and a big gun to survive the undead.” —Jenna
Jenna Martin lives in a world gone insane after a mysterious pandemic kills much of the population. Being alive after an apocalypse is bad, but it is made worse when the multitudes killed by the disease return ravenous for human flesh. Jenna, in serious trouble and pursued by undead, heads to the safest place available, a cemetery.
Ready to give up, she finds the strength to persevere for one more night and meets a group of survivors willing to take her in. The group caravans to Virginia, where they plan to inhabit an isolated inn called High Point, but the undead are always close behind. Packs of zombies, known as Streakers, attack, leaving Jenna and the other survivors battling for their lives and racing toward safety.
Once safely isolated at the inn, the group rebuilds society and Jenna begins a relationship with Caleb. Although he withstood the virus, he has not come out unscathed. He and some others now labeled the New Rave have changed into what many would call zombie kin—vampires. Jenna’s falls hard and fast for Caleb, which causes more problems that she ever expected in the fledgling society. But there are worse things than vampires and zombies searching for her, and they arrive at the inn’s door ready for destruction.
Glass shattered in the next room and footsteps crunched over the broken splinters. What had once been a tall, middle-aged man in a business suit, was now a bloated corpse in rags crusted over with blood and pus. The baked-by-the-sun Streaker wore a wrinkled face with the consistency of an old raisin. His right arm hung limply, dislodged from the socket, but both hands made continual grabbing motions.
Lacking any grace, the creature staggered to the bedroom door and stopped. It sniffed, searching out its next meal. Blood poured from Jenna’s lip, where Tundra had hit her. She wiped it away, then retrieving the piece of wood. Sensing the movement, the Streaker turned its undead eyes on her. Some of its skull had been torn away, exposing the rot. It lumbered and stumbled over the chair in its path, giving Jenna desperate seconds to ready herself. Arm raised, eyes dead and unblinking, it came, dancing with death. It reached out to grab her.
Jenna ducked, then swung low and hard. “I must have gone brain dead. I can’t think of one good zombie joke right now.”
The creature staggered back, but then surged forward. Jenna rammed the edge of the board into its stomach.
“No comeback from the undead. There’s a no brainer.”
It writhed against the constant pressure of the wood. A trail of intestines spurted out, staining the tattered remains of clothing. Jenna gagged at the stench.
“You, my good sir, are too gross for words.”
The undead groaned, plowing forward. Decaying brains leaking from its nostrils and eyes.
“That all you got for me?” She stepped back, hoisting the board, and swung. The head of the creature flew sideways, but it continued forward, emaciated fingers scratching. She drove the Streaker over to the left with a repeated, steady swing. The wood sank into a shallow layer of skin covering the undead’s overripe, bloated belly.
Upon Caleb’s return, he moved to Jenna’s side. She stepped back and leaned against the window. Caleb, hatchet in hand, forced the Streaker into a corner. A noise at the window had her spinning around. A hand shot through the glass and into the room to claw at Jenna’s face. Outside in the darkness, lifeless eyes found her. The undead rammed against the window, spraying glass. Jenna stepped away, and seconds later, a loud crack caused splintered wood and glass to fall to the floor along with pieces of the zombie’s fingers. With a catatonic stare, the Streaker pushed through the opening, tearing its flesh against the jagged edges of the frame.
Jenna flashed back to the cigarettes and matches she saw in the room. Fire was exactly what she needed now. She searched for the matchbook that had laid on the floor, but the room was in disarray thanks to the fight. Something bumped behind her, and panic rose inside her. Dropping to her belly, scanning the floor, her fingers reached under the bed.
Lisa Acerbo is a high school teacher and adjunct faculty at a local community college. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, daughters, two dogs, and horse. When not writing, she mountain bikes, hikes, and fosters dogs.
Broke and widowed, Rachel Ferrer has already lost so much that when her tarot reading roommate pulls The Tower card, Rachel isn’t phased. What are upheaval and chaos when the worst had already happened? When Rachel’s late husband’s childhood best friend, Nicolas, reappears in her life and brings a handsome friend along with him, Rachel forgets the cards. She takes a chance on Blake even though she can’t stop thinking about Nicolas. It isn’t settling if the person you want is married, right?
Nicolas Rivera has always been a man of faith. His marriage and his job at the church have been his pillars, but when the foundations of both begin to crumble, doubt and a forbidden attraction tempt him to seek comfort in the one woman he shouldn’t go anywhere near.
Nicolas and Rachel have been on the periphery of each other’s lives for years, but as circumstances push them together, lightning crackles between them. Will they be able to resist the electricity or will they get burned by Temptation?
Nicolas was covered in dirt and sweat, and his skin itched. If he hadn’t just destroyed one of his favorite parts of his year, he would have been satisfied with a good day’s hard work. As it was, the catharsis he’d been looking for felt more like a dead end. Like he was slowly erasing himself and his legacy from the church instead of controlling the narrative.
Rachel collapsed on the curb beside him. They sat on the edge of the church parking lot, looking out over the now-barren field where the garden had been.
She was just as dirty as he was, but it didn’t change how adorable he thought she was. He’d been so distracted by the way her tied-up T-shirt accented her waist that it had taken him more than an hour to realize she was wearing one of Blake’s campus ministry T-shirts. Because she had come from Blake’s place this morning.
He’d spent the rest of the day reminding himself of that.
“Here,” she said and handed him a red cup full of Coke.
He tried to hand it back. “I don’t drink soda.”
She pressed her fingers against his forearm, and the warm touch of her hand soothed the sore muscles like a balm. He wanted to lean into her but focused on the drink in his hand instead as she said, “It’s what’s in the soda, Nicolas.”
He sniffed. “Whiskey?” And a lot of it too.
Rachel looked to the sky and sighed. “Gabe’s funeral was five years ago today.”
Nicolas didn’t think. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make the connection. How are you doing?”
Rachel shrugged and sagged against him. It was too hot to touch for long, but Rachel didn’t seem bothered by the heat or the fact that their significant others could turn from where they were gathered around the food table at any moment and see them embracing.
“It’s been five years, but I still miss him. Sometimes I wake up, and I still expect to find him in the kitchen making coffee and talking back to the news, like normal. Even if I have to resign myself to knowing things are never going to be normal like that again. I think that’s part of the reason why Naomi was determined to make this into a party. That and it was an excuse for her to flirt with your wife.”
Nicolas chuckled at her attempt at levity. He’d noticed the way Naomi had tracked Kat’s every move all day long. “I didn’t quite believe it before, but I think you might be right.”
Rachel only shrugged and motioned with her cup to where Naomi and Kat stood with Blake and the kids across the parking lot. Naomi squealed and pulled Kat into what looked like a spontaneous hug. Everyone else was smiling, so Nicolas chose to do the same. It hadn’t really been that bad, having them all here today.
Nicolas nudged Rachel, who was staring off into space, with his elbow. “What shall we toast to?” He didn’t want her to be sad today.
Rachel motioned toward the decimated field with her red cup. “To new beginnings,” she said. Nicolas knocked his cup against hers and said aloud the one thing he’d been trying to garner for himself lately when it came to his job, and maybe his marriage. “To having the courage to start the journey.” They shared a sad smile before they both drained their drinks.
Marla Holt believes in second chances, romance, and the radical notion that everyone deserves a happily every after. She’s living her own fairy tale, writing contemporary romance novels in her Kansas farmhouse with her husband, three boys, three cats, and flock of imaginary sheep. Follow her at marlaholt.com or on Instagram as @marlaholtauthor
Title: I Put a Spell on You Author: Sarah Vance-Tompkins Genre: Fairy-Tale Retelling
“Being a modern-day fairy godmother isn’t all ‘bibbidi bobbidi boo,’” the legendary Lilliana Willowbrook says. “It’s hard work, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. We don’t handle cash, jewelry, real estate or revenge.”
AVIANA WILLOWBROOK had no idea that her mother is a living legend until the day the tattered old copy of “The Fairy Godmother’s Rulebook” arrived in the mail on her twenty-first birthday. Estranged from her mom, and living in Beverly Hills with her father, her stepmother and two super-achieving stepsisters, Aviana is unhappy and directionless.
Hotel heir NASH NOLAN isn’t content to use his family’s fortune, instead he’s used his computer knowledge to create a successful travel app. He’s not the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve, Nash is immediately attracted to Aviana’s confidence and kindness.
But everything changes when novice fairy godmother Aviana is tasked with sparking a romance between Nash and her wicked stepsister. Will she use her powers to help Nash and her stepsister find their destiny, or will she use her pixie dust to find her own happily ever after?
When I returned ‘THE FAIRY GODMOTHER’S RULEBOOK’ was open on my desk. No one was nearby, but the old velum pages were open to reveal a woodcut etching of a fairyland scene faced with a thin slice of tissue paper. In the etching a group of fairies floated above the ground in a circle around a regal-looking woman in a ball gown as they balanced a bejeweled tiara on her head.
I slammed the book shut and a cloud of glittering dust rose from the pages. The dust cloud made me woozy and gave me the sneezes. When I recovered from the sneezing fit, my ears itched like I had poison ivy.
No surprise.
If the old book had anything to do with Mom, I was allergic to it and its contents. I stuffed the book back into my tote under my desk. Best to be forgotten. As soon as possible. I didn’t have time for fairies, or fairy tales. I didn’t believe in them when I was a little girl, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
Sarah Vance-Tompkins received an MFA in Film Production from the University of Southern California, and went on to work in feature film development in Hollywood. Prior to film school, she wrote and produced radio and television commercials. She grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan, and now lives in Southern California with her husband and a glaring of unruly cats.
Elijah Barrett fell in love with a stranger in a nightclub.
After a brief encounter he can’t get this angel out of his mind. But then she walks into his office for a job interview.
Turns out she’s no angel, but the daughter of the man who killed his mother.
His need for revenge has him offering her the job. Lust drives him to take her to Solitaire, the elite BDSM club he runs. Love makes him question whether revenge is worth it.
Holly Sutton thinks her father hung the moon and can do no wrong.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
When a dream job with Billionaire Elijah Barrett falls into her lap, she jumps at the opportunity to spread her wings. Now she’s face to face with the dark-haired stranger she’s been fantasizing about since their nightclub encounter.
That’s how she wound up in his bed and at his side as his personal assistant.
There’s just one problem, he hates her father and wants him in prison, she just can’t figure out why.
Faced with the realization that she may not know her father at all, she must decide if love or loyalty will win.
Holly returned to their table interrupting his thoughts, and Elijah smiled up at her. “You’re absolutely stunning, Holly. I’ve enjoyed watching you tonight. When we get to the office in the morning, I have some things I’d like to discuss.”
Holly gave him a quizzical look. “What sort of things?”
“Let’s just say, you’ve inspired me,” he said with a wink.
Her lips turned up in a shy smile. “Then I can’t wait to hear what you have on your mind.”
“Would you like to go for a drink? I know a great little lounge where we could just sit and talk.”
Her gaze shifted to a group across the room. One woman waved at her. “I would, but a few of my old coworkers want to take me out for a drink. You could tag along if you wanted.”
Elijah picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. “No. Some other time. You go have fun with your friends. I don’t want to share you on our first date. Besides, I’m technically on a date with Patrick,” he said with a salacious grin.
To his delight, her face turned a lovely shade of pink. Standing, he kissed her cheek,
“Goodnight, Holly. I’ll see you at work in the morning.”
Ivy Nelson is an emerging contemporary romance author, hopeful romantic, and passionate advocate who is versed in all things steamy, sultry, and sensual. It all started back when she read her first steamy romance novel at the age of fourteen. From that point forward, it became her favorite genre–one she wanted to write in herself someday. Sylvia Day’s writing style cemented that passion, and gave her just the inspiration she needed to be an author herself. In December of 2018, Ivy published her debut novel, Power Desired at the age of 32.
Most recently, Ivy completed the “D.C. Power Games” series and the prequel to her forthcoming “Diamond Doms series” titled “Hard” (currently available for pre-order). In a not-so-distant past, she was a student affairs professional at a university and earned her political science degree, which explains her politically-driven romance debut.
When she isn’t penning steamy scenes or attending writing conferences, you can find this contest-winning karaoke singer and bookworm passionately supporting human rights or growing her Sims 4 empire. She is also a wine aficionado and certified whiskey taster (no really, she has the certificate to prove it). All that aside, Ivy loves spending quality time with her amazing son and husband of three years at their home in Houston, TX.
Is their chance encounter a witchy second shot at love? Or just another score?
Ruby Donovan is a lot of things—paramedic, single mom, Legacy witch. The one title she never wanted? Senate heir. But that’s exactly what she’ll become unless she can find a loophole fast. It’s just her luck that the man who steps in to help her is the one who crushed her heart so many years ago. There’s no way she’ll give him a second chance to do that.
Treasure hunter Diego Benitas has no interest in witch politics. But he does have a significant interest in Ruby. He always has. Keeping her safe and helping her find what she’s looking for shouldn’t be too hard. Convincing her to let him into her heart again? That might be the toughest assignment he’s ever faced.
It’s not long before Ruby and Diego realize how much danger their search has stirred up—and just how much they need each other. With enemies closing in from all sides, can they survive long enough to find their way to happily ever after? Or will the odds keep them apart forever?
He pushed overgrown black curls out of his face to reveal familiar brown eyes, blood along one cheek to mirror a scar on the other, and a beard covering the cleft on his chin. The one deep enough to nestle the tip of her little finger. Like the dimple had been cut for her. Crash.
Or at least she’d called him Crash when she’d been a lovestruck teenager with a crush as dizzying as these staggering cliffs on a boy from East Los Angeles. Of the millions of people in this city, why did it have to be Diego Benitas, war hero and heartbreaker?
Luna Joya writes sexy hexy romances in the award-winning Legacy Series.
Fluent in sarcasm and penal code, Luna prosecutes by day and writes at night. She loves history, especially Los Angeles and Hollywood lore.
A survivor of traumatic brain injury with steel body parts, she lives in SoCal with her combat veteran husband and their two-pound terror of a rescue pup.
From jilted princess bride to a revenge plot fit for a king, this charming couple is royally screwed …
As I lived my best royal life, my only job as a princess was to find and marry a handsome prince. Too bad Prince Theo turned out to be more of a toad.
After I began losing my powers, he lost interest in our upcoming wedding. Not only did Theo leave me at the altar, but he also banished me and my merry band of misfits from the Kingdom of Poppycock forever.
Talk about a walk of shame!
From enchanted castle to crumbling cottage, I’m now stuck in Morningwood, struggling to plot my next move.
This strange little town, full of mischief and magic, is the perfect place to hide while I practice my spells and hopefully regain my powers.
What could possibly go wrong?
Other than accidentally summoning a mysterious male vampire who throws me off my quest and gets my blood boiling in all the right places.
And my blood is exactly what Vail and his brotherhood need for their top-secret laboratory.
Who would have thought my charming royal genes could help their dangerous mission?
As long as Vail keeps his fangs to himself, we won’t have a problem.
His hands though?
That’s another story entirely.
My taste for revenge is strong, but his taste for me is stronger.
Could this be my fairy-tale ending? Or am I destined to live a nightmare?
“He’s here!” Godmother’s eyes grew wide. She patted down her dress pockets, checking for her wand before barking orders. “Pumpkin, stay in your corner. Mirror Mirror, shut up. Penelope, you’re up. Let’s see how well you remember class and elegance. You can practice for your winery soiree. If we all become this vampire’s dinner, it’s on you. I’m stupidly putting my faith in you—and him. Don’t fuck this up.”
“Godmother! Where did you learn that language?” I put a hand to my ruffled collar.
“From you. Now, get the door. I’ll pour the blood.” Her voice drifted into a harsh whisper.
I stood up, smoothing my hands down my skirt and instantly regretting my big heart. I hadn’t invited Vail to dinner to practice magic or charm. Nor had I asked him over because he had the body of a sculpted mid-century Viking and a voice that calmed and commanded me, all at once. I hadn’t even invited him over because I was curious about sex with a vampire and if the rumors of mind-blowing ecstasy were true. I didn’t plan on seducing him to find out.
Sure, I’d thought about it—a lot. In the bath, in the woods, when I was alone in bed and I was sure Mirror Mirror had fallen asleep. Vail had overtaken my fantasies ever since he whirled me around the ballroom and dipped me in the most romantic gesture I’d ever experienced. But every day I grew older, he stayed the same. The ex-prince vamp man and I would never work.
The real reason I’d invited him to dinner was to study him. He exuded an air of royalty and confidence that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t match. But even without my princessy qualities, at our last meeting, he’d treated me every bit of a queen.
I took a deep breath, swelling my bosom, and opened the door.
Vail stood, adjusting the lapels on his jacket. The tantalizing smell of his cologne drifted into my senses and caused me to let out a long, audible breath.
He froze, raking his eyes over my best ballgown, pausing his gaze at my puffed-out cleavage.
“My lady, you look exquisite.” He bowed, licking his lips. A glint of fang shimmered beneath his smile.
“Thank you! Good evening. Come in!” My words spilled out in an unintelligible sentence that even I didn’t understand. Whatever grace and elegance I’d once had melted away at the sight of this vampire. He turned me into a royal shitshow.
Fritzi Cox is a dark soul with a wicked sense of humor. She regularly bathes in the blood of her enemies while sipping champagne and hashtagging her vibes. She’s fond of plotting mayhem, writing spellbinding twists, and tickling her readers with an over-the-top sense of humor. Rumor has it, her alter ego, Kat Addams, is her spirit animal. Or is it the other way around? Either way, expect Fritzi to keep you on your toes!
When she enters his world… will she be able to find her way out?
Will she even want to?
Cassie Lockhart is alone in the world, save for her beautiful and troubled sister, Amber. When Amber gets in over her head in the world of organized crime, Cassie dives headfirst into the darkness to save her.
Dante diRuggiero rules his world by taking what he wants, uncaring who he may hurt in the process. He can’t help but be intrigued by the shy, plain woman who comes to his club, pleading for the sake of someone else. He sees beneath her mousy exterior and finds a woman so loyal she would sacrifice herself for those she loves. It’s that loyalty that draws him in at first, and then her passion makes him burn.
When Amber’s poor choices force Cassie to choose between her sister and Dante, will she choose the person she has tried to protect all her life, or the man that would never betray her? Can Dante keep her safe from the war brewing in his dark world?
Dante is book two in the steamy diRuggiero Mafia Family Saga.
“Cassie, come home with me,” he breathed, eyes closed and forehead pressed against hers.
“Yes, Dante,” she whispered, and he pulled away to look at her face, into her eyes, to gauge precisely how poised she was to flee. He’d have to precisely manage and time everything to keep her from taking flight like a startled doe. She was so lovely, and so innocent, for a woman her age. Part of him, a dark part, a part that he kept under iron control, jumped at the chance to corrupt that innocence.
Dante waved away the pimple-faced valet and opened the door of the car for Cassie himself. Once they were both enclosed within its sumptuous leather interior, he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her body against his.
“My penthouse, Manny,” Dante told the driver.
“You got it, boss.”
The car pulled away from the restaurant and into the crowded streets of downtown Dallas. Dante didn’t live far from the restaurant, but it would still take a good fifteen or twenty minutes before they arrived.
“You are so handsome,” Cassie said after a few minutes, her voice somewhat dazed.
“Am I?” He asked, smiling, and leaned forward to nuzzle his nose against hers.
“Ugh, you know you are.” She threaded her fingers through his hair as he peppered tiny kisses over along her jaw.
“Well, you’re beautiful.” He mouthed the shell of her ear, tugging on her earlobe with his teeth. Cassie rewarded him with a low moan, so he tugged a little harder. She moaned louder, fingers tightening in her hair.
“Do you like that?” he whispered.
She shuddered at his words. Slowly, Dante moved his hand up over her silk-covered midriff, until his hand clasped her breast. Its weight fit very pleasantly in the cup of his hand and this time, when he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, he also pinched lightly at her already rigid nipple.
Cassie groaned. Dante smiled against her skin as she wriggled against him, burrowing deeper into his embrace. He understood that pressing need to be closer, closer, closer. The same compulsion was riding him, too, harder and harder as the seconds of touching and kissing passed.
She moaned her appreciation of everything he did to her; he wholeheartedly approved of each of her caresses, the way she stroked his shoulders and raked fingers through his hair. It seemed like they were going to get along just as well in bed as they did out of it. Dante sealed his lips over hers and pressed his tongue into her mouth, exultant when she greedily accepted it, met with her own for a sensual kiss.
He pushed her back into the seat, his body encroaching into her space without shame. She dragged him closer still, one hand in his hair, the other crumpling the lapel of his suit without care.
A crumpled suit was of no consequence; honestly, it only seemed right, that a passion such as what had risen between them would result in a bit of destruction. It didn’t seem possible that there would be no consequences to the world around them in the wake of such a powerful force. When it was all over, when they lay in his bed, sated and sweaty and replete, he fully expected the curtains to be shredded, perhaps a window or two broken. Would be disappointed, perhaps, if that were not the case.
With that destructive force, or perhaps because of it, came corruption. His family was so thoroughly corrupted that there was no force in heaven or hell that could dig them free of it. And contact with him would only taint Cassie, as well, both in and out of his bed. If he were a different man, he would care. He would scruple that he was taking advantage of her naiveté, of her clear desire for guidance and instruction, her hunger for acceptance and appreciation.
But he wasn’t a different man. He was the eldest of four sons, the heir to a legacy of wealth and power at the expense of the weak. He was the monarch of a kingdom fuelled by drugs and sex, and he ruled it with a heavy hand. He was a man who got what he wanted and damn the cost to himself or anyone else.
He was Dante di Ruggiero. And she would be his, body and soul.
I write steamy romances and the compelling, hot, sexy, heroes that dominate those pages and the heroines that fall in love with them.
My day-to-day is full of time at the beach, playing fetch with my dogs in my backyard, and often thinking up new ideas and worlds that help bring my books to life. I’m a small town Texas girl who likes to dream big and put those big dreams down on the page!
Cletus Byron Winston wishes to marry Jennifer Anne Donner-Sylvester (aka The Banana Cake Queen) posthaste! He’s spent the last year wanting nothing more than for the celebrations to be brief, libations flowing, and BYOB (bring your own blueberries). His future mother-in-law has other plans, plans his intended has been willing to indulge, much to Cletus’s chagrin. Therefore, so must he. To a point. But truth be told, he wouldn’t mind if the meddlesome matriarch disappeared, at least until the nuptials are over.
On the night of Cletus and Jenn’s long-awaited engagement party, just when the surly schemer is of a mind to take matters into his own hands, a shocking event upends everyone’s best laid plans and sends the small hamlet of Green Valley into complete disarray. The final months leading up to Cletus and Jenn’s matrimonial bliss are plagued with chaos and uncertainty. Will Cletus and Jenn finally make it to the altar? Or will murder and mayhem derail their happily-ever-after?
“Here.” Cletus suddenly appeared, looking devilishly handsome in the dim light and seemingly all put back together—like we’d been in here holding hands instead of. . . ANYWAY.
He held out my underwear. His eyes were bright even in shadow, and I could see they were half-lidded as they lazily trailed over me. He looked at me like he was hungry, and I was dinner. Despite all the encore orgasms I’d just had, the effect hit me right between my legs.
I wondered what he was thinking, watching as he licked his bottom lip and drew it into his mouth. Was he just as insatiable for me? And if so, was he okay with that?
Tearing my eyes away, I pulled on the lace and fixed my skirt, telling my body to settle down. We were getting married for hootenanny’s sake!
Cletus cocked his head to the side while I smoothed my hands down the red fabric, working to get a hold of all this raging want always coursing through my veins whenever he was near. Maybe it was because he was my first, and I guess, my only. Was that why I felt so crazed for him all the time?
“Miraculous,” he said.
I surmised he meant the dress. “Right? The wrinkles are hidden, if there are any. It’s ’cause they ruched the outer fabric at the seams, see?” I turned to the side to show him the seam, and he stepped forward as though he were going to investigate.
Instead, his hands cupped my face and tilted my chin back. He stared at me with a vibrant intensity I felt all the way to my fingertips. “No, Jenn. Not the dress. You.” Cletus gave me a soft kiss, ending it by gently nipping my bottom lip. “You are my miracle.”
I sighed. And I smiled. And I felt like I was walking on a cloud instead of in four-inch heels, which was also probably something of a miracle. “You say the sweetest things.”
“I think you mean, I say the truest things.”
I laughed, and he kissed my forehead. He held me there, in the dark with his lips pressed to my forehead. “I love you so completely, with every cell in my body. I wonder sometimes if I’d cease to exist—just evaporate or disappear—if anything ever happened to you.”
“No.” I anchored my hands to his wrists and squeezed. “Don’t think like that. We’ve got our whole lives in front of us. There’s nothing anyone can—”
Three bangs in quick succession pierced the quiet moment, and not a second later Cletus had me on the ground beneath him, covering my back with his body. “Gunshots,” he whispered in my ear. “From the parking lot. Don’t move.”
Penny Reid is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Winston Brothers, Knitting in the City, Rugby, and Hypothesis series. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.
We shared a single kiss over a year ago, and I can still remember every toe-curling second of it. He thought I was too young for him. I thought he was running scared. But that kiss was the first time I’d felt alive in a long time, and I’ve been chasing the feeling ever since—doing my research, a lot of research, a lot of men. Something my protective older brother isn’t too happy about.
I’ve been through more than most guys my age, and I still bear the scars. My head’s not always my best friend, but I’m building a life, PTSD be damned. I can’t turn back the clock, and I’m not sure I want to.
Except maybe to that moment when Penn kissed me. I mean, the odds of us ever meeting again were slim to none, right?
Yeah, about that.
But this time I’m ready. I’m a year older, an ocean of therapy wiser, and I know exactly what I want.
2020 LAMBDA LITERARY AWARD FINALIST IN GAY ROMANCE for her novel ‘DIGGING DEEP’
Jay is a New Zealand author writing in MM romance and romantic suspense primarily set in New Zealand. She loves writing character driven romances with lots of humour, a good dose of reality and a splash of angst. She’s travelled extensively, lived in many countries, and in a past life she was a critical care nurse, nurse educator and counsellor.
Jay is owned by a huge Maine Coon cat and a gorgeous Cocker Spaniel.
