Kyle is a swaggering bully; Lenny strives to be invisible. Kyle has been left alone in the world; Lenny is the world’s biggest loner. When Kyle saves Lenny from drowning, their lives will never be the same. After a brutal encounter with school bullies, Lenny swims out into the ocean, determined to let the current whisk him away. Next thing he knows the meanest kid in town is pulling him from the waves, promising to be his Dead Sea, and to never let him sink.
All Kyle wants is to get out of beach cleanup, is that too much to ask? So he goes for a swim, only to come upon the most epic “nobody” in the senior class drowning in a riptide. Lenny’s haunted gaze grips him, and Kyle makes the impulsive decision to save his life or die trying. And through this ordeal, Kyle and Lenny are transformed.
Kyle’s heroic act sets him on the straight and narrow, and he opens his heart to the young man he dragged from the ocean. Lenny changes too but is still unable to reveal the truth of his pain. While drowning in a sea of secrets, the reformed bully and wary victim fall in love. But staying afloat in the Dead Sea is not as simple as it seems.
“I know I told you I wanted to talk about schools and futures, but there’s something else I want even more.” Time to come clean.
Lenny opens his mouth to speak—three times. No sound comes out. Damn, he’s cute.
“I wanna kiss you so bad. Can’t remember wanting nothing so much since I was a kid on Christmas Eve hoping for a Gameboy.”
This time when he opens his mouth, he gasps. And it’s more sexy than cute.
“Would that be okay? You know, if I kissed you?” I suck in a breath too, figuring I’ll hold onto it until he answers. Hope it doesn’t take too long—that could spell problems.
“Listen, Kyle, you don’t know everything about me.”
I push the air out of my lungs in one huge gust. Good news, Grampa: he didn’t say no fuckin’ way will I let your lips near mine.
“There’s plenty you don’t know about me too, Lenny. Like how I pants-ed Chad Giza at the seventh grade Valentine’s Day party in Mrs. Webster’s class because I was so pissed-off I got zero candy-cards from girls and he got a dozen. But I still want to kiss you.”
When Lenny smiles, his lips look as good as the finish line at the end of a marathon. Not that I ever ran a marathon, but I figure this is how I’d see it.
“Then kiss me,” he whispers.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I say this even though, technically, I was the one who asked him. I lean in, put my sweaty palms on his shoulders, and pull Lenny toward me. He slides my way without a tug-of-war—and I press my lips onto his.
I start with a soft dry kiss, so as not to freak him out. It doesn’t last for even a whole second. Then I pull off Lenny’s lips. I need to check out his face to make sure he’s not losing his marbles. His eyes are closed and long dark eyelashes rest on his cheeks. His forehead is smooth of wrinkles, and his lips are loose and ready for more. And his light brown curls are tousled just right from the wind. Lenny looks like an angel. Seriously, Gramps, the dude belongs on the top of Mom’s keep-your-hands-off Christmas tree. Nope. Lenny’s my angel, and it’s time for another kiss. I swoop in again, and this time, after I cover his lips with mine, I stay. I kiss him once, in the dry sweet way. And when I poke open his mouth with my tongue, he lets me in.
Mia Kerick is the mother of four exceptional children–all named after saints–and five nonpedigreed cats–all named after the next best thing to saints, Boston Red Sox players. Her husband of twenty years has been told by many that he has the patience of Job, but don’t ask Mia about that, as it is a sensitive subject.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
My themes I always write about:
Sweetness. Unconventional love, tortured/damaged heroes- only love can save them.
Mia Kerick focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men within the boundaries of blossoming, supportive relationships. She believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. And Mia’s stories are centered around a certain theme: even heroes can be sweet. Sweet, but not completely innocent.
A duke’s daughter must be prepared for whatever life—and love—throws her way…
Lady Cassandra Fallon is finally ready to take control of her life and join her late mother’s investigative society. She’s more than confident she can do the job—even when her first case involves a potentially deadly scandal. What she’s not quite prepared for is her brother’s attractive (and increasingly distracting) friend acting as her self-appointed bodyguard…
When Lord Luke promised his best friend he’d keep an eye on Cassie, he meant it. But the brazen and entirely too alluring woman she’s become is a far cry from the mischievous, freckled girl she used to be. Luke knows a lowly viscount has no business longing for (or touching) a duke’s daughter. But against all reason…he does…
She craves independence. He only craves her. An epic battle of the sexes is at hand. But will love be enough to get them to happily ever after? Cassie and Luke will soon find out…
He ground his teeth together as he recalled how she’d felt against him and how damned close he’d been to feeling a lot more. He could not claim to be the most self-controlled man in the world but with Cassie, he’d always maintained it with those three words.
She’s Anton’s sister.
The words failed him now. He could only see her as Cassie—the woman he’d touched, the woman he’d kissed. The woman he wanted more of.
“Do they know anything of what you are doing?” he asked when their hands touched, and they twisted around one another. He needed to maintain his focus on the important matter of keeping her safe.
“In some respects.”
He lifted his brows. Cassie and her sisters were close. Her relationship with Eleanor was especially intimate and Cassie had always felt protective of her half-sister.
“What is it?”
“I am merely surprised you have not involved them in your investigating.”
Her gaze dropped briefly to the floor before meeting his. “They know what I am doing but I have no desire for them to get further involved.” She gave a light laugh that sounded strange to his ears. “After all, it is hardly the work of a lady to go about investigating such matters.”
“They shall not be impressed that I know of the danger to you and did not tell them.”
“I can manage my sisters.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I am not as helpless as everyone assumes me to be. I can manage this on my own.”
“With my help,” he added.
“Yes,” she conceded, “with your help.”
“So what next?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. “You will not like it.”
“I do not like any of this, Cassie. If it were up to me, I would lock you away until Anton returned but knowing you, you would escape like Rapunzel.”
“I think Rapunzel didn’t escape. The prince came to her if you recall.”
“Well, I know you well enough to know you would not tolerate such a thing.”
Her chin lifted. “Of course not.”
“I shall do the next best thing and be stuck to your side and hope that Anton or your sisters do not decide to make a eunuch of me.”
“Luke!”
“What?”
“You should not speak of such…matters.”
He fixed her with a look, lacing his fingers with hers to draw her around him. “The potential loss of my manhood?”
Her cheeks blazed pink. A rather appealing look. “Yes,” she hissed.
Oh, this was interesting. Cassie might be willing to sneak into bedrooms and commit crimes in the name of this investigation, but it seemed she could not tolerate such bold talk.
USA TODAY Bestselling Author Samantha Holt is known for fun, witty, and usually steamy historical romances. She’s been a full-time writer for longer than she ever thought possible having originally trained as a nurse and an archaeologist. She’s a champion napper, owner of too many animals, mum to twins, and lives in a small village near the very middle of England.
She’s usually writing (or napping) but when she’s not, Samantha is plotting (books of course!) with her husband, drinking coffee, climbing hills that are far too high for her fitness levels or visiting stately homes and pretending she’s posh.
Title: Just Curious Author: Ariella Talix Genre: LGBTQ+ Romance
Secrets, curiosity, and passion.
Fantasy becomes reality with little encouragement.
Willa Camden, successful author of steamy novels, becomes entwined with Jackson Mitchell, a brilliant billionaire, and his best friend Casey Melrose. Their love is shared equally, and Willa is not always in the middle.
Craving excitement, they embark on international adventures in the style befitting a billionaire.
Cyber threats, blackmail, and theft turn their world upside down. Their careers are jeopardized, and lives are in danger.
Fair warning: They curse a little and have sex a lot, so please don’t be shocked. Join them for a wild ride.
If you’re ready for a book that will have you on the edge of your seat and grabbing for a fan, this story is for you.
Ariella Talix is the nom de plume of a bestselling author who lives in America’s Heartland. Her goal is to preserve the dignity of family members who would rather not be associated publicly with a woman who writes such scandalous and stimulating novels. She’s not going to stop writing them though.
She loves her family, pets, great books, not-so-great books that still entertain, and art.
Born and raised near the beaches of southern California, Ariella Talix traveled the world extensively and then found her true home in the Midwest. She has a second-degree black belt in Karate and has been a professional artist for many years. Her work is displayed in countries all over the world.
A sudden brainstorm prompted the first of her novels, Make Believe, and since then the ideas just keep tumbling out like an avalanche.
City of Spells, the follow-up to Alexandra Christo’s gritty YA fantasy, Into the Crooked Place, finds the world on the brink of war and four unlikely allies facing sacrifices they had never imagined.
After the loss of Wesley and the horrifying reveal that Zekia is helping the Kingpin of her own free will, Tavia, Saxony, and Karam flee to Saxony’s home to rebuild their rebellion. Meanwhile, trapped in the Kingpin’s darkness, Wesley must fight against the deadly magic that invades his mind and find a way back to his friends before it’s too late.
As the Kingpin’s dark magic spreads and his army conquers Creije, these four unlikely friends have to decide just how far they’ll go—and how much they are willing to sacrifice—to win.
In the list of terrible things he’d done in his life—and Wesley liked to keep track of things like that—he was sure crying had never been one. He knew that memories were fickle, of course, but he trusted his mind to keep hold of important stuff like that.
Those were the things that needed to be remembered if he was going to hold a grudge properly, and if there was one thing Wesley Thornton Walcott did well, it was hold a grudge.
Wesley didn’t cry in the face of death.
He didn’t cry because he had only half a family—the half that gave him a house but not a home, that protected him but did not love him, that stared at him like he was something so very other in a realm of strange magic and monsters.
He didn’t cry when he crossed lines and burned bridges.
He didn’t cry when he threw away friendship for leadership.
And he didn’t cry when Zekia clawed through his mind, or when her shadow demon clawed through his body. They could try to break Wesley into a thousand pieces, but he wouldn’t give them that. He ’d fought his way up from the streets of Creije and there was no way he was going to go down with a fight.
“Fighting is hard,” Tavia said. “Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is just give in.” She sat beside Wesley in the cell, her grin sly as ever, while the low glow of night filtered from the cracked window, reflecting the sky in the pool of Wesley’s blood.
“Don’t you ever just want to give up?” she asked.
She shuffled closer to Wesley and squeezed his hand.
“It’s okay if you do.”
Wesley held on to the sound of her voice, like a cliff ’s edge, even though he knew it wasn’t really her voice at all.
He’d learned that by now.
He knew better.
He turned to Tavia and pushed a flick of black hair from her eyes in a way he had never dared to before. It was damp with sweat and clinging to her cheeks like seaweed, making her look young and restless.
“Get the hell out of my mind, kid,” he said.
And then he pushed Tavia’s head back so hard that it cracked against the surface of the cell wall. There wasn’t blood this time, but Wesley winced like there had been.
He heard a sigh and then Tavia’s newly limp body disappeared into smoke, and from across the room Zekia stepped out of the shadows.
“You’re getting quicker,” she said. “The first time it took you ages to figure it out.”
“Maybe you’re just getting sloppy.”
Though truth was, most of Zekia’s illusions had been perfect from the start, and if there was one thing she excelled at, it was making Wesley doubt every second of his life was real.
Still, she could never get Tavia right.
The first time she’d tried, Wesley was too out of it to see the small discrepancies, but it was the easiest thing to spot now. A conjured Tavia made Wesley feel cold and uncertain. She was always missing the bite to her words and the tilted smile that could never quite be replicated. She was missing the glint in her eye that told Wesley he was awful and she would forgive him for it anyway.
Zekia could try all she wanted, but she’d be hard-pressed to create an illusion as damn irritating and wonderful as the real thing.
“Want to give it another whirl?” Wesley asked. “I think I’ve still got some sanity left in me today.”
Zekia let out a great huff of breath, like she was frustrated that Wesley had stolen her favorite toy. Beside her, a shadow demon growled, its eyes like pure darkness.
It looked at Wesley in a way that said, Yes. Again. Let me taste the blood this time.
Alexandra Christo decided to write books when she was four and her teacher told her she couldn’t be a fairy. She has a BA in Creative Writing and works as a copywriter in London, both of which make her sound more grown up than she feels. When she’s not busy making up stories, she can be found buying far too many cushions and organizing food crawls all over the city. Alexandra currently lives in Hertfordshire with an abundance of cacti (because they’re the only plants she can keep alive).
Jeni has fully accepted her spiritual ability, and yet she’s unnerved by the apparition of Marielle, the ghost of a pioneer girl asking for help. As the ghost’s tragic love story unfolds in her dreams, Jeni’s resistance melts and she resolves to save the soul of Marielle’s lost love. When she discovers her own impulses cause Marielle to act uncharacteristically, Jeni believes she can change the past. Despite warnings against meddling with time, Jeni’s convinced she can save the soul of Marielle’s lover. Deep inside a dream and intent on her quest, Jeni is lured into a trap that binds her soul to Marielle’s. With no allies, no knowledge about crossing through time and with limited 18th century resources, Jeni is terrified: failure will leave her soul trapped in the past, or worse . . . lost in nowhere.
Ice spotted a nearby tree with a thick trunk. He headed for it, capturing Jeni’s hand and pulling her with him. He settled on the ground, knees bent, and patted the space in front of him. “Do they know why the river changed course?’
Accepting the invitation, Jeni scooted backward until her back touched his chest. He looped his arms around her and she sighed, melting against him. “They do now. The forests were cut down to feed the riverboats. It allowed massive erosion. Although,” she twisted her head so she could look up at him, “some people claimed it was a curse.”
Ice smirked. “Sure. Because it couldn’t have been their fault.”
“Exactly.” Sarcasm tinged her voice. “The legend of the curse is actually a tragic love story about… ” Again she looked up at Ice. “Are you ready for this?”
“Sure,” he said.
“A French girl and a Native American boy.”
“Like us.” He chuckled. “Do you know the entire legend?”
“I can give you the basics.” Jeni recounted the story, ending with, “So Amakapa swore that he and Marielle would be together again in the afterlife and that—” She broke off, sitting up so fast she nearly smacked her head into his chin. “Ice. Please tell me you see her this time,” she said in a low voice.
Ice searched the vista for a figure. “Where?”
“Across the road. Behind the fence, just to the left of where it’s leaning forward.” Her entire body was tense.
His eyes scoured the fence line, finding a spot where the wire bowed out as if something had pushed against it, or possibly fallen on top of it, but he saw no one.
“Do you see her?” Jeni’s voice faltered.
“No. Is it the same girl you saw before?”
“Oh, God.” With a strangled cry, Jeni clambered to her feet and dashed for the pathway.
Ice rushed after her. When she reached the trail, Jeni broke into a run, her face a white mask when she glanced over her shoulder. Ice swiveled his head to make his own cursory check, wondering if the figure Jeni saw had given chase. The path behind them appeared empty. He knew, however, something might be there. Something he couldn’t see. When Jeni broke out of the shadows and into the sunshine, she finally slowed, breathing hard.
Ice approached, placing a protective hand on her back while she bent over, hands on thighs, drawing in air. “What happened?”
She shook her head and straightened, hands over her face. “She…” Jeni sucked in a shuddering breath. “It looked like she was trying to speak to me.” She let her fingers trail down her cheeks, meeting his eyes with a haunted gaze.
“What did she say?”
“I couldn’t hear anything,” Jeni said. “But I didn’t need to. I could read her lips clearly. She was saying ‘help me.'”
Having a love for witches and vampires before they were trendy, Barbara gravitates toward stories with supernatural elements both when she reads and when she writes. Although classified as young adult, her books are enjoyed by a wide audience–pre-teen through adult.
Barbara’s novel Thunderstone was awarded 2013 Book of the Year Finalist status by Forward Reviews and before it was published, Thunderstone was a quarter-finalist in the 2012 Amazon Breakout Novel Award contest, winning a review by Publisher’s Weekly.
When she’s not writing, Barbara works in a library where she’s tortured by all the books she has yet to read. She’s a cult fan of the movies Labyrinth and Nightmare Before Christmas and a fan of all things Tim Burton. Barbara lives in Royal Oak, Michigan with her husband, daughter and a cat that often acts like a dog.
One friendship. One heartbreak. One messy past. One open-ended future. One chance to fix regrets. Multiple hurdles to jump.
Rian: I knew returning home was never going to be easy. I hurt people when I abruptly left seventeen years ago. I hurt my brothers. I hurt the woman I loved. I lost touch with everyone and have missed so much. But running away can’t last forever. It’s time to face my demons and fight for the one person I can no longer live without.
Love: Everyone knows me as the lovable, bubbly, happy girl. It isn’t untrue. Years ago, I had my heart broken and have hidden just how much that moment destroyed me. Every day that we have been apart has felt like a piece has been missing from me. But when Rian returns, I can’t bring myself to trust her. I can’t pick up the pieces of me that she carelessly broke and pretend everything is okay again.
However, when a story drifts into dangerous territory and someone important gets caught in the crossfire, sometimes you have to let the past stay where it belongs and forge a new future. There will be missteps, and maybe some tears, but fate cannot be stopped.
So, what does fate have in store for us now, and what are the chances we will survive it?
“I do. I know I’m incredibly late on coming back here, but I do want to make Midsummer my home again. I’ve missed this place. I’ve missed you.”
I watch the impact my words have over Love, and they aren’t necessarily good. She looks gutted by my admission.
“I have to get back.” She holds up her hands that just have tape and no fliers left. “Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Of course. It’s been good to see you. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in hanging out again? I know I hurt you by leaving, but I’d appreciate the chance to tell you my story and, if you are open to it, becoming friends again.”
I want much more than friendship with Love, but I know I have to tread lightly. I have to gain Love’s trust again before I promise her more. If we don’t get this new foundation right, then we’re doomed before we get a chance to start.
Love doesn’t immediately respond, which has my heart jacking up in tempo, but soon, a smile graces her soft lips.
“I’d like that. I’m sure we can make some time next week. I’d love to hear about how the teaching goes. I might have a favor to ask of you.”
“Anything!” I quickly agree, knowing I would still do anything for Love. “And let’s lock next week in. Do you still have my number?”
Over the years, we emailed to keep in touch, though those emails turned few and far between in recent years.
“Will you actually leave your phone on? From memory, you were notorious for letting it die for weeks on end.”
“I traveled far and wide, often in places where electricity wasn’t common. I got used to living without it,” I admit, knowing I wasn’t the best at it when I was a teenager, either. I had to hide even having it from my parents, which meant I couldn’t always leave it out charging.
“Luckily, The Last Resort boasts electricity!”
“Yes, I was very impressed to see many outlets in my room. Very fancy.” I lightly elbow her and smile when she laughs.
“Yeah, I have your number. I’ll text you when I’m free.”
“I look forward to it.” I don’t exactly keep the wistful note out of my tone, and Love sure doesn’t miss it, given her widening eyes and the way they dart to my lips. She looks away quickly, but I catch it.
“It’s good to have you back.” She gives me another hug, though it’s less surprising, and I’m able to focus more on how it feels to have her in my arms and to have her body against mine.
I probably hold on too tightly and certainly for too long, but I can’t help it. I missed Love more than I ever realized, and being back, close to her, is like finally feeling fiery warmth after being out in a wintery storm for years.
She pulls away, and then I watch her walk back in the direction of the hotel. I get the feeling she wants some space, so I let her have it. I have a date to look forward to next week, and I need to make sure it goes off perfectly.
For now, I’m going to go off in search of Reed and tease him relentlessly about the fact that he’s going to be a father to twins.
Jessica lives in Adelaide, South Australia. When she is not writing, you can find her reading, napping or watching excessive amounts of TV. Connect with her on Facebook and Goodreads.
Title: The Man Before You Author: Shalana Battles Genre: Contemporary Romance
Time may not actually heal all wounds, but love just might.
Eloise’s husband was dead and she wished she were too. She quit going to work, refused to answer her phone or her front door, and shut out the people who cared about her. She felt imprisoned by her tainted memories, but couldn’t escape her own home or recliner, because she had to focus on breathing.
Six days after she buried her husband, Jack pounded on Eloise’s door. Jack, a man she hadn’t seen or spoken to in over a decade. Jack, the only man including her husband, who Eloise felt truly knew her.
Jack’s life hadn’t been without its fair share of loss. Breaking contact after Eloise’s marriage had seemed the best thing for them, but regret tortured Jack when Eloise swung open her door and he saw the shell of the woman he once loved.
Eloise pushed Jack away ten years ago and never expected him to come back into her life. She hated herself for wanting Jack to stay, but she couldn’t help but remember the love they once shared and the life that they could’ve had—or the life they could have now.
The longer Jack stayed, the more he realized Eloise blamed herself for not being there when her husband died. Jack wanted a second chance, but Eloise didn’t think she deserved one. Eloise wanted to find herself, but wasn’t sure she could while dealing with grief, Jack’s deployments, PTSD, and a universe that seemed determined to keep them apart.
Jack was at a loss. He told himself he wouldn’t let this happen. He went to check on her, not to fall in love with her. Damn Eloise and everyone’s inabilities to tell her no. He hated that about her. The way she always got what she wanted, but he loved it, too, in a way, because it meant she was happy. Eloise would rip him to shreds. God, he loved her. He loved her from the first day she walked into that theater at eighteen, but now it was different. It wasn’t just her body or sex or lust, it was friendship and trust. It was months of messages, packages, and phone calls. It was knowing that she’d finally let him in, let him within reach.
Jack couldn’t help but wonder what that would be like once he got back. They’d have so much to talk about. He’d go wherever, leave the Army if he had to, be as much in this as she’d allow. He just wasn’t sure how much she’d actually allow. If he gave up everything, changed his whole life for her and she pushed him away, he wasn’t sure he could live through that. He’d lost Eloise once, but he’d never really had her, or at least that’s what he told himself. This would be a relationship, with labels, with attachments. It was something they’d had the entire time, but never said so out loud. Talking about it made it real, and Jack wasn’t sure Eloise was ready for real.
Jack looked at the letter in his hand and reflected on what Eloise had said about the words leaving her soul. He needed that too. He carefully folded the letter, stuck it back in its envelope and then in his chest pocket, and went to find Chase.
“Chase,” Jack yelled and found him at one of the tables with a few other men. “I need some paper.” Jack remembered that Chase kept a couple of notebooks to write his wife. Everyone mostly used social media, but as Jack now knew, there was something about a physical letter.
“Writing Miss Eloise?” Chase stood and Jack followed him.
“She said she loves me.” Jack slammed into Chase’s back. “What the fuck?”
“Sorry.” Chase turned to face him. “You shocked the shit outta me. She said what?”
“You heard me, man.” Jack didn’t want to tell Chase that Eloise had endured more trauma. He didn’t want Chase to bring up the possibility that Eloise only said that because she was hurting and didn’t have anyone else. He didn’t want Chase to suggest that it didn’t mean anything, that she’d take it back, or that once he was home and she had to face her written words, she’d cover them in friendship and destroy him in the process. Jack already felt those things. No, he didn’t need Chase to say them.
Shalana Battles is a YA/Adult writer who tells stories about love…sometimes with witches and ghosts. Her debut novel, SOUL JUMPER is coming out October, 6, 2020. Be the first to hear about upcoming projects and book updates by signing up for her newsletter below!
From Tropea, Italy to Michigan and Florida, the thieves Molly and April Danser are on the run, trying to escape from an enraged ex-US Marshal. He is hell bent on stopping them once and for all, his twisted black heart fired up for revenge and their total destruction. Will the sisters elude his blood-soaked hunt? They have their smarts and resource but have never faced a pursuit like this.
Detective Richard ‘Rick’ Ables, Jr. arrived at the Tropea apartment early the next morning, missing the Danser sisters by more than thirty-six hours. Not his fault, the incompetent and greedy airlines had once again dog-fucked his best-laid itinerary. Having flashed his revoked US Marshal badge, he had walked and examined the girls’ rooms with the Mrs. Gior-something trailing and complaining, her Italian sounding like tipsy Mexican. The rooms had been wiped and cleaned for new guests, and as he stood on the front porch looking down at the ancient and sun-stupid town, his lower throat gorged with the bile of frustration.
Descending the stairs to the street, he wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, irritated further by the heat and air that felt mottled with sand and the smell of sea rot. He set the case binder on the roof of his pop can of a budget rental, unlocked the door, and climbed in behind the wheel. Syncing his SAT phone with his laptop, he opened the binder in his lap while a connection was made to his server back in Michigan. The first tab was the detailed chronology of the pursuit, which he updated with his pocket pen, characterizing the Tropea search as an empty gator hole. The laptop pinged, and he pulled it over from the passenger seat.
His slow-witted inside source had let him in on Molly’s strange motorcycle racing life. Details from the search launched before arriving in this ass-up Italian town appeared as red flag icons on a map display. One was in coastal China in a city called Yantai. The second was near the Bristol shores in Britain. Doubting the girls had the juice to get into communist slant land, he did a search on the UK event, skimming the summary deep enough to see that the race was in two weeks.
“It smells right.” He allowed his thoughts to rewind to the last time he was in Britain. “This whole nut sack began there.”
Greg Jolley (also published under Gregory French) earned a master of art in writing from the University of San Francisco. He is the author of sixteen novels and one collection about the fictional, film industry-based Danser family. He currently lives in the Very Small town of Ormond Beach, Florida
Title: Born of Fire Author: Kella McKinnon Genre: Time-travel, Historical Romance
More than thirteen centuries ago, the Highlands were ruled by a powerful Pictish King whose ferocity in battle was as legendary as his honor and devotion to his people. When his trusted advisor had a vision that the Picts could one day disappear from the Earth, King Bridei charged one family with protecting and preserving the language and lore of the Picts through the generations to come.
Born into this ancient family line, Nessa Brodie feels both the weight of her responsibility and the desire to pursue her own dreams, until a series of fateful events lands her in the distant past. As she navigates her new world and all of the uncertainty and fear that comes with it, Nessa begins to realize that she is destined to be the completion of a circle begun long before she was born. Torn between the life and love she left behind, and the captivating passion of an untamed warrior-king, Nessa learns that even the path laid out by fate is never easy or straight.
Modern-day humans crave this, without ever knowing, she thought. The best-selling books, the blockbuster movies: Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter. Magic. Legend and ritual. The human soul remembered something so ancient, so powerful, that it hungered to worship it, to claim a place within it. Maybe it was our origins in some dark and mystical place and time, or maybe a long-lost connection to a god that is Nature itself.
What must it be like to live so close to the Earth, and to know that you are a part of it? Of the circle of life? To really understand that you are at its mercy? No one remembered that anymore. Humanity had been fooled into thinking there was nothing stronger or smarter than themselves, that the world would go on forever, with them in it. They were wrong. Here, in this moment, despite all of her troubles, Nessa finally knew what it would be to belong to the world around her, with all of its joys and mysteries. She knew now why she loved so much to have her bare feet on the Earth and her hands in the soil, bringing forth life. If the circumstances had been different, she realized that she could have been quite happy to live here among these people. Something about this place and time spoke to a part of her soul that she hadn’t been conscious of, before. The most ancient, primitive parts of her wanted to dance around those fires with the other women, with the same joy and wild abandon. A single tear, born of some emotion she couldn’t quite name, rolled down her cheek.
Kella McKinnon lives in rural New England on a mini-farm with her husband and three children, and has far too many hobbies to list… but writing is her biggest passion.
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Three Reasons You Should Read This Sweet Contemporary Romance:
The historical ranch in Rescuing Harmony Ranch by Jennie Marts is a beautiful setting, and has some great romantic moments.
The chemistry between Joss and Mack leaps off the page, and you can feel their long history in every interaction.
A cast of amazing side characters will bring the town to life, and their uniqueness only adds to the story of Joss and Mack, bringing it even more to life.
A bearded blacksmith and a marketing exec join forces…and sparks fly.
When Jocelyn’s grandmother calls her asking for help, she drops everything and heads back home to Harmony Creek, Colorado. Her grandmother runs a living history museum: a ranch and homestead where volunteers wear clothing from the early 1900s and demonstrate how things were done in the old West, from making soap to shearing sheep. The place is in financial trouble, and it needs the revenue from the annual festival to survive.
There’s just one thing that makes this a little awkward: Mack, who’s divorced, and who’s now the caretaker and blacksmith at the homestead. Jocelyn and Mack have their own shared history, which includes both stolen kisses and teenage rivalry.
Even as the past and present collide, they have to save Harmony Ranch. Matchmaking grannies, a meddling mutt, and a flood of fun festival activities might just be enough to overcome their differences and forge two broken hearts back together.
This heartwarming romance includes a free Hallmark original recipe for Turkey Sliders with Mac and Cheese.
Rescuing Harmony Ranch by Jennie Marts was a really sweet and fun second-chance romance. Joss and Mack were high school sweethearts, in love and perfect for each other, before Joss’ mom moved them both to the city – far away. When Joss returns to help her grandmother at the ranch, she finds Mack, a lot taller and lot more bearded, working on the ranch, and history floods back.
Their second romance was a slow build up. They both had some harsh feelings about the past to overcome, but their love for each other wouldn’t let that stand in the way. Along the way, they get to know each other again, and they remember what brought them together in the first place.
Harmony Ranch could be a character on its own. As a historical reenactment location, it lives in the past – before electricity and running water. Jennie Marts has a great way with setting a scene, I wish I could go to the pond, or have a picnic in the yard there. The characters surrounding her were larger than life and had some personalities that jumped off the page, but while they were incredible and memorable, they never outshone our couple. They do make me want to go back to visit and see what the town is up to though.
I hope Hallmark revisits this area. It was full of love, life, and charm.
**I voluntarily reviewed a complimentary copy of this book**
