Title: Fused With Him Author: Kylie Kent Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
Reilly I learnt the hard and painful way that men don’t stay, ever. Even the ones you trust the most can be taken away in the blink of an eye. It’s easier to keep them at a distance. I have my fun with men and then part ways.
I’ve spent the last five years of my life avoiding any and all emotional connections with men. I’ve been successful at it too. I’ve built up walls with so much mortar and rendered them around my heart.
That is until Bray freaking Williamson came barging into my life with his perfectly sculpted tattooed body and entrancing green eyes. He was like being tempted by the most delicious chocolate brownie, the perfect mixture of rough on the outside and soft gooey on the inside. He came at me with his damn bulldozer, effectively destroying my carefully constructed walls, brick by brick, leaving a pile of rubble behind
Do I follow what my fragile heart wants and give into temptation? Give him the key to my heart knowing how easily he could crush it? Or should I follow my brain and run far, far away from this god of a man?
Bray I’m a fighter not a lover. I’m ruthless in the cage, an undefeated champion.
I always fight for what I want, and I always win no matter the odds. What I want comes in the form of a beautiful feisty, independent redhead.
She won’t agree to be mine, yet, but I’m happy to agree to disagree with her on that, because she is mine. She wants to run, that’s fine I’ll run faster. She wants to hide, I’ll hunt her and I won’t stop until I find her. Everyone in Sydney is about to learn that the fusion of Bray and Reilly is happening.
Run, hide and deny all you like, I’m a fighter and this is one fight I won’t give up on. Brielly is here to stay.
“Bray, you can wake up now. Everyone’s gone home for the night so, you know, if you wanted to get laid, now’s your chance, babe.”
I grab hold of his hand. I could have sworn it twitched just then. Sometimes I’m convinced that I want it that bad that I’m imagining it.
“You can’t leave me here, Bray. I still want you. I need you. I need you to wake up. You can’t leave me. My dad left. Dylan left. I will not let you leave me. You know I never told you this, but when Dylan died, I thought I would never feel a pain so deep. I was wrong, because this, this right here, fucking hurts. It hurts that you’re not keeping up to your end of the bargain and fighting for us. You’re meant to be the undefeated fighter, Bray. Well, guess what, this, whatever this is, it’s winning and you’re losing. I’m losing.”
I swipe the traitorous tears from my cheeks, take big breaths, and count to five before continuing.
“You want to know what I talk to Dylan about on those Sundays I visit him? Lately it’s been about you. I tell him about everything that’s been happening in my life. I tell him about Holly and my mum and dad. The first time you took me there, I asked him to give me a sign that you were the one I should take a chance on. That you were the one I should open my heart to. That same day, during the visit with my dad, he told me to give you a chance, to give happiness a chance. My dad had never led me wrong before, so I took a leap of faith.”
Great, now my eyes are going to be red and blotchy again. I roll over and grab a tissue off the table before settling back in.
“I haven’t been to see him, either of them, since you’ve been asleep. I can’t bring myself to leave here, to leave you. If I could talk to Dylan right now, I’d tell him that my heart is shattered… that as much as I want to believe you’re going to wake up and come back to me, I’m so freaking scared that you’re not. Damn it, Bray, come back to me, please. I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired; it’s my turn to sleep. You need to wake up. I’m drowning right now and you don’t even know. If you don’t wake up, Bray, if you don’t come back to me, then I’m likely to do something selfish and stupid and follow you. Because living like this, living without you, is not an option for me. I can’t do it. I’m not that strong.”
Kylie made the leap from kindergarten teacher to romance author, living out her dream to deliver sexy, always and forever romances. She loves a happily ever after story with tons of built in steam.
She currently resides in Sydney, Australia and when she is not dreaming up the latest romance she can be found spending time with her three children and her husband of twenty years, her very own real life instant-love.
As the son of music industry royalty and a famous rock star in his own right, Henry “Cinder” Cinderford has spent his life on the road. Craving stability, he signs on to do a special limited engagement in Las Vegas and plans to spend the next six months discovering the meaning of home.
After losing his mom at a young age, Ellis Tremaine survived a childhood with an abusive stepfather who took out his anger on the son he never wanted. Nearly two decades later, Ellis continues to struggle against the emotional manipulations of his family, even in his career. But when he meets none other than the Prince of Pop himself, things start to change.
From attraction to friendship to something so much more, Ellis and Cinder become the celebrity ‘ship known as “Cinderellis.” But when reality threatens their storybook romance, all they can do is hope there really is a happily ever after for every once upon a time.
As the amber and pink hues of a Vegas sunrise peeked through the blinds, the radiant heat of the muted rays fell in bands over the comforter, and Cinder’s eyes drifted open. He blinked up at the ceiling as his mind meandered toward consciousness.
After waking up in the same bed for over two months now—the longest stint he’d ever had in the same sleeping quarters, if he didn’t count his tour bus, which he didn’t—he was finally starting to get used to the luxury of the familiar. He relished the recognizable comfort of a bed he could call his own and the intimate ease of a space he knew and could navigate without thought.
But as his brain chugged into gear, something struck him as different. Not wrong, just not the same as usual. He went to lift a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes but found his arm trapped by an unexpected weight. Before he could turn to assess the source of his encumbrance, enough awareness seeped into his mind to bring back memories of how he’d fallen asleep the night before.
Wrapped in the arms of Ellis Tremaine.
A smile crept up his cheeks as he rolled over to pull Ellis against his chest. Snuffling in his sleep, Ellis came willingly. He threaded a leg between Cinder’s and circled an arm around Cinder’s waist to anchor their bodies together. Smile stretching into a grin, Cinder brushed a kiss over the whorl of hair at Ellis’s crown as he reveled in the beauty of waking to such a cozy, content moment.
This is what he’d been missing all these years. Every time he’d pushed another nameless partner from his bed in the wee hours of the morning—choosing to sleep alone after sharing a romp in the sheets rather than waiting to see where the morning might take them—he’d given up another chance at finding the one thing he’d needed most.
Comfort. Stability. A rock to cling to in the stormy seas of life.
A home.
Because that’s what this was. This moment with Ellis in his arms, sated by memories of a day spent working side by side and an evening shared without the typical pomp and circumstance others required, it was the home he’d been searching for all his life. Just as his parents had always tried to tell him, but he’d never understood.
Home wasn’t a physical space. It wasn’t something you could find in a brick-and-mortar structure or by tying yourself to a single place. Home was a feeling. An emotion. A sense of well-being and security. Of being cared for and wanting to—no, needing to—care for another.
In its simplest form, home was love. And as Cinder clung to Ellis’s sweet warmth, he knew love was where his heart was headed. Maybe he hadn’t quite fallen that far yet, but it was coming for him, and he was ready to take the plunge when it did.
Evie Drae (Ze/Hir/Hirs) is a registered nurse by day and a best-selling, award-winning male/male romance writer by night. Ze has won first place in seven Romance Writers of America® (RWA®) competitions, including the prestigious title “Best of the Best” in the 2018 Golden Opportunity Contest. Ze was a double finalist in the 2019 Golden Heart® in both the Contemporary Romance and Romantic Suspense categories.
One of Evie’s favorite things to do is encourage hir fellow writers. To that end, ze started the #writeLGBTQ and #promoLGBTQ hashtags on Twitter to support and promote LGBTQ+ authors and allies while providing a safe space to connect and grow as a community. Ze is married to the love of hir life, is the parent of two wonderful fur babies, and runs almost entirely on coffee and good vibes.
Evie loves to link EvieDrae@gmail.com or find hir on hir social media accounts listed below. Twitter is where ze’s most active but be sure to check out hir blog too. Ze focuses on reviews for LGBTQ+ authors and allies with the occasional quirky advice/recommendation post just to toss things up.
I came for war. I left with an obsession. With one look, Isa captivated me. She consumed me, drawing me into her world without ever knowing the dangers of mine. I intend to make her mine, no matter what lies I need to tell to manipulate her into falling in love with El Diablo. It should be simple enough, but secrets lurk in the depths of her multicolored eyes, and I’ll do anything to understand what broke her before I had the chance. Because she’s mine to break.
Isa
Rafael Ibarra tore through my life like a raging inferno. Consuming every part of me he touches, he promises to show me passion and the real Ibiza. Though our tryst can never be anything but temporary, I never want to leave the man who makes me wish things were different. But there’s a nightmare hiding within his multicolored gaze, a phantom rattling at the cages who wants to devour me, to take me and claim me as his. He’s temptation, pushing me toward sin with his wicked touch. But the sins of the flesh are different from the sins of the mind, and as much as I hate his secrets… I will never tell him my own.
Until Tomorrow Comes is the first book in the Beauty in Lies series and ends on a cliffhanger. This is a DARK mafia romance and contains graphic violence, mature content, and elements that may be triggering. Please read at your own discretion and see the specific content warnings at the front.
He quirked a brow, that intense gaze of his turning unsettling as he stared down at me. “No,” he said, his lip twisting with the words. My pulse quickened, sensing that small hint of something that lurked beneath the surface. With a glance at the man standing next to the walkway up to and around the falls, I looked back to Rafael with a flare of my nostrils and purse of my lips.
I huffed in disbelief as I shook my head and fought back the surge of emotions within me. I’d been so fucking stupid to think he understood that my fear came from a place of trauma. From something not so easily overcome. Leaning into his space, I laid down the challenge I knew probably wasn’t my smartest move.
But something in the cruel set of his eyes made me want to defy him.
Something in the excited parting of his lips told me he wanted that too.
“Fuck this,” I snarled, turning on my heel and yanking my wrist out of his grip. Hiking my purse up on my shoulder, I strode down the road we’d entered in on and made for the main street. Once I had enough distance and found a safe place to settle, I’d call Hugo to come and get me.
But I’d be damned if I would get in that water with him.
“You don’t want to walk away from me, Princesa,” Rafael murmured at my back. The words crawled up my spine, insidious and menacing enough to halt me in my tracks, and I turned back to glare at him.
I swallowed my nerves, pushing down the budding fear that he brought with his carefully crafted words. Rafe could be terrifying when he wanted to be.
I just wasn’t sure if the frightening face was the mask, or if it was what really waited beneath the charming demeanor he gave me in all the other moments.
“And why is that?” I asked, pressing my lips together and turning back around to hide the slight tremble in them. He was the kind of man my grandmother warned me about with her stories. The temptation and lure of evil spirits, as they resided in people who looked just like us.
But evil couldn’t look like beauty carved in stone, could it? Even if it did explain why I burned when he touched me.
He stepped closer, until I felt the heat of his body at my back. He reached around me to grab my face and tilt it, so that I stared him in the eye with one of mine. “Because I’ll chase you,” he murmured, leaning down to touch his lips to my cheek in a slow brush of heat against my skin. His mouth slid up until his nose touched my hair, breathing me in deeply. He hummed just above my ear. “I think the real question is, what will I do when I catch you?”
I swallowed down the saliva in my mouth, clenching my eyes shut as I tried to think of an appropriate response to words like that.
What did one say, when the man she was falling head over heels in love with showed signs of being a monster?
“That isn’t funny, Rafe,” I whispered, stumbling over my own feet as he turned my body to face him. His hand gripped my hair harshly, tipping my head back until I met his unyielding gaze.
“Am I laughing, Princesa?” I shook my head slightly, wincing when his grip didn’t relent. “I promise you, I am far scarier than whatever you think lurks in that fucking water.”
He released me as suddenly as he’d grabbed me, taking a few steps away before he paused and looked back at where I stood, rooted to my spot and staring at him in horror. I looked to the road, watching as the man who stood guard puffed up his chest and stood a little taller.
It felt like I’d walked into a trap, and still didn’t understand even the basics of what it would mean for me.
A cage without walls. A pressing force on my chest.
“Don’t do it,” Rafael warned me, drawing my attention back to him. He held out a hand, waiting for me to take it. It was a test, I realized, as he forced me to decide my next move then and there. “I like it when you tell me no,” he murmured, making my breath freeze in my lungs as he tilted his head to the side and studied me. “I think I’ll like it when you fight me, too.”
Adelaide always had a love for reading and writing that she cultivated with years of passion and growth before finally publishing earlier this year. You can count on intoxicating alpha males with a twist of darkness who are captivated by the light of their women. Her romance typically involves dark romance themes, colorful language, plenty of steam, and graphic violence. Adelaide lives in her tiny house with her husband and two rambunctious hellions who she adores. When she’s not chasing all three of them around the house, she spends all her free time writing and adding to the hoard of plots stored on her bookshelf and hard-drive.
Do you want to know what it means to live like me? It means being forced not to look at him, not to touch him, not to be left alone in the same room as him. Not to seek him out. Not to want him. Not to love him. Do you know how it feels to spend your entire life pretending to be someone else? Do you know what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t want to be loved? I’ll tell you how it feels. It feels as if you’re living in constant torment: you know which path you should follow, but you also know that, if you follow that path, you can never turn back. And I can’t do that to him. Every day I come back, because I know that he’s waiting for me. Every day I promise him that he will never have to live without me.
Andy
Do you know what it means to live like me? It means being forced not to touch him, not to kiss him, not to be able to leave the room while he’s still in it. Not to breathe him in, not to lust after him. Not to love him. Do you know how it feels to spend your entire life pretending to be someone else? Do you know what it’s like to love the only person you’re not allowed to love? I’ll tell you how it works. You can’t seem to feel anything other than him; when you walk away, you know that you’re turning your back on the only thing that’s good in your life. Yet you still walk away. Every day I leave, knowing that he will be standing there, watching. Every day I ask him to promise me that I will never have to live without him.
He turns towards me, and I immediately regret getting so close to him, in the darkness, the roads around us almost deserted. No one can see us. I regret even coming here tonight, having watched him for three hours with my stomach in flames. I can’t believe I thought I could do this.
I can’t believe I told him that we couldn’t do this.
Not that it’s easy every day, seeing him in a crowd, always surrounded by friends, or with his family. Paddling around in a kayak, or playing a gig, talking, laughing.
Pretending.
He moves quickly, grabbing my face between his hands and bringing it closer to his, until our foreheads are touching. I can’t feel anything, can’t think, can’t speak; his hands are touching me, holding me against him. His large, warm hands are against my skin. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed them until I felt their heat again. I didn’t think that wanting them on me, all over me, would be so painful.
And then, Andy kisses me, stripping me of my anger and making me forget why it was even there in the first place.
I grab hold of his wrists as he pushes against my mouth, breathing into me, reminding me of the reason I could never want anyone else.
Andy’s kisses aren’t easy to handle: they’re strong and powerful, fuelled by impatience and uncontrollable desire.
Andy’s kisses are laced with bitterness and silence. They taste of lost nights and bad timing.
Andy’s kisses taste of lies, of shortness of breath. They taste of mistakes and decisions we never made.
Andy’s kisses are pain and regret; they’re anxiety and frustration; they’re darkness and desperation.
I hate Andy’s kisses. I hate them so much that I can’t help but love them.
Title: The Dark Arts Author: Kitty Thomas Genre: Dark Contemporary Romance
The Complete Duet
The Con Artist:
Art. Obsession. Twisted possession.
When starving artist Saskia Roth meets Lachlan Niche, a local art collector and tech tycoon, she has no idea how her life is about to change. One act of desperation, one con gone wrong, and she finds herself at the mercy of a powerful man she fears and despises–or so she thinks.
As her desire for him grows, life as his captive becomes something more… something that could both transform her and destroy her.
The Escape Artist:
Claire was held captive for 43 days by a man who did unspeakable things to her.
Three years after her escape, she gets her revenge. The only problem is, she’s got the wrong man.
God help her if he escapes.
(Includes Saskia and Lachlan’s complete HEA from The Con Artist)
Claire pushed the memories away, gripping the leather arm rests, willing her heartbeat and breathing to calm. That was him. She had him in a cell. That was the guy. He had a scar where she’d cut him. How could he lie to her with such a straight face when they both knew he had that scar and how he’d gotten it?
Because he’s a sociopath, Claire. He isn’t like normal people.
She couldn’t let herself forget that—what he was. She couldn’t let herself be tricked by the beautiful monster into setting him free and losing her own life. She got up and went to the kitchen, taking another bottle of beer from the fridge. This one she drank all the way down until a light pleasant buzz of calm skated across her skin. She took a long, steadying breath and grabbed the broom and dustbin.
When she returned to the cell, at least the arrogance had left his face. Maybe he was starting to understand his situation, that the tables had turned and he was now at her mercy. Let him lie about things, as long as she could wipe the smug smile off his face.
She silently swept up the shards of the beer bottle. The last thing she needed was for him to have a weapon. That had been his mistake with her after all.
“You can still let me go,” he said. His voice was so gentle and soothing. Calm and reasonable.
He’d never spoken to her like that in the basement. Of course not, he’d had the power then. He has to placate you now.
Claire just laughed. “Right. I’m going to let you go so you can hurt me again. Am I supposed to believe you’re reformed? After me, you stopped torturing and killing women? You realized the error of your ways?”
“What’s your name?” he asked, changing tactics. “My name…”
“Shut UP! If you speak your name I’ll kill you. I swear to fuck I will. I NEVER want to hear your fucking name. EVER. Don’t you try to humanize yourself. You’re a fucking monster, and you know it!”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender.
No he wasn’t, he was placating her.
“What’s your name, then?” he said, trying again.
“You know my fucking name. You used to hiss it in my ear while you were…” she trailed off, unable to say the words. She turned away from him and took a deep breath, quickly wiping the tears that threatened to spill over. She was not going to cry in front of him anymore. She’d cried all the tears for him she would cry.
She had the power now. Not him. NOT him. But she was shaking. She could feel the light tremors in her arms. He must be able to see them. He was the one chained up, and he was going to break her again.
Never.
“It’s okay if you don’t have it in you to hurt me. I don’t think you’re that kind of person,” he said gently.
“Just shut the fuck up!” she screamed. “I should starve you, just like you starved me for the tiniest act of defiance.” She turned back to finish sweeping the stray shards into the dustpan.
“Look at me,” he said.
It was a fucking command. He thought he could order her around when he was the prisoner? But she turned and looked at him.
“I would never starve you. Ever,” he said, holding her gaze in his.
He’d already starved her, and they both knew it. These head games… she had to regroup her strategy or he was going to get inside her head and mess with it. If she lost her nerve… if he got free again, he’d kill her this time. She was already in too deep. She had to get her shit together and finish this. It was the only choice.
KITTY THOMAS writes dark stories that play with power and have unconventional HEAs. She began publishing in early 2010 with her bestselling COMFORT FOOD and is considered one of the original authors of the dark romance subgenre.
To find out FIRST when a new book comes out, subscribe to Kitty’s New Release List: KITTYTHOMAS.COM
There are few things worse than being on the Arcane Bureau of Investigation’s naughty list.
To keep myself out of hot water, I’ve made a deal with the devil—using my skills as a grave talker to help the ABI solve some very cold cases.
But there is something mighty amiss in this task—especially when quite a few of these cases lead me right back to my home town of Haunted Peak and the secrets buried there.
“Out less than a minute and already talking to spirits and punching ghosts. Way to go, Adler.”
That smooth voice did not belong to my best friend, J. Oh, no. I wasn’t that lucky. The big hunk of man-meat Siobhan had been talking about was not my partner, but the death mage ABI agent who’d simultaneously saved my bacon and torched it.
I swung my head to face Bishop La Roux, straightening my shoulders like I was going to have to punch him, too.
Dressed in a criminally hot pair of jeans and a T-shirt that should be illegal in at least five states, Bishop held out a bag with a very familiar logo on it like he was warding off a lion. Ignoring his messy hair and scruffy beard, I met his coal-dark eyes with suspicion. But instead of punching him like I had Hildy, I snatched the Si Señor bag from his hands, opened it, and dug in. The prison fare was a step above cat food, in my opinion, and just the thought of that yummy bit of heaven made my mouth water.
“Good to see tacos still work,” he said, chuckling. “You need a ride home?”
The last time he’d needed to bribe me, he’d done it with these tacos. Good god in heaven, I was a pushover. I ignored the ridiculously hot man in favor of unwrapping a taco one-handed and shoving an end in my mouth. My teeth crunched into the blissfully crispy half-steak, half-pork taco, and my eyes rolled back in my head.
“Maybe,” I said around a mouthful of food. If he were any other man, I might have felt weird about my rudeness, but just like Hildy, Bishop was on thin ice. Though, tacos were an excellent way to strengthen his footing.
That taco was gone in another two bites, and I swallowed the yumminess before continuing, “How’d you hear about me getting out? Even I didn’t know until today.”
Bishop gave me a sly smile. “A little birdy told me.”
“I suppose you could give me a ride if you don’t have anything better to do,” I conceded, my tone only mildly petulant.
“No, Adler,” Bishop said, his voice a hell of a lot closer than it had been a few seconds ago. I whipped my head back to find him solidly in my space. “I don’t have anywhere else I want to be.”
Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, an old man of a dog, and a young pup that makes life… interesting.
Title: Tristan Author: Jennie Lynn Roberts Series: The Hawks #1 Genre: Fantasy Romance
His redemption might be her downfall…
Tristan has nothing left to lose. His best friend’s betrayal cost him everything. Now, he’s going to take it back. All he has to do to get the Hawks reinstated to their rightful position at the palace is track down the traitor’s younger sister and turn her over for execution. But Nim’s not the girl Tristan left behind years ago; she’s a stubborn, loyal, beautiful woman, and he can’t stop himself from wanting her.
Nim fled with nothing when the king’s favorite came for her. All she has left is the conviction that her brother is innocent—and her determination to free him. She’ll do anything…even if it means convincing Tristan to help her. But the man he’s become is a far cry from the boy she fell in love with so long ago. He’s formidably stern and deeply untrusting. She’ll just have to hope he still has a heart under that battle-scarred exterior.
When love and duty collide, will Tristan follow his orders or follow his heart?
Tristan, book 1 in The Hawks series, is a sexy, steamy, adult fantasy romance full of swords, shifters (kind of), and tons of action. But fair warning: This book is intended only for readers who love slow burn romance, fast-paced adventure, soul mates and found family—and characters who curse when they fight for survival. If that’s you, happy reading.
They’d been on the road for an hour, with the men bantering in low voices—mostly Mathos telling rude jokes and Tor trying to make him shut up—when something made Tristan focus on Nim.
At first, he wasn’t sure what he’d noticed. She had become more slumped during the afternoon, her head bowed. But something had made her seem even less steady. A spike of concern from his beast made him nudge Altair closer.
A moment before he reached her, she started to slide. Her body simply tipped to the side and she lost balance in a smooth, helpless glide toward the distant ground.
He pushed himself forward and over in one rapid swoop, leaning precariously in his saddle to scoop her up. She startled awake, half held in his arms, her body stretched between the two horses with her foot tangled in the stirrup.
He had her at a horrible angle, but he held her tight, forcing the horses close together as Rafael dashed forward and freed her.
Finally, she was loose and he could settle back into his saddle, heart still beating hard from the sudden burst of fear and speed, and the effort of holding her safe across the two horses.
He held her firmly in his arms as she stared up at him, shocked into wakefulness, silver-flecked blue eyes wide and startled, and he forced himself to curb his first impulse—to shout at her for riding half asleep, for frightening him like that—and managed a surly grunt instead. She felt his ire anyway, because her eyes narrowed, and she immediately started to twist and squirm to be put down.
He clamped his arms around her and gave her his most ferocious glare, but all she did was roll her eyes and redouble her effort. Gods, if she didn’t stop wiggling that rounded leather-clad bottom in his lap, they were both going to have a problem.
He frowned at her. “Will you kindly stop.”
“No. I want to get off.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why? So you can go to sleep in the saddle again?”
She turned to stare at him, nose in the air. “That was a mistake. I’m awake now.”
He turned and looked at Rafe, who gave him a quick shake of his head. As he’d suspected. “No. It’s not safe. You’ll just go back to sleep. You can ride with me, or you can walk.”
She huffed out an enraged breath. “You are so bloody frustrating! You know walking would take too long!”
His lips twitch as he suppressed the desire to grin. No one else ever challenged him.
She sighed again and then changed tack. “Anyway, it would be bad for your horse to carry the extra weight.”
He considered the massive stallion and the tiny woman in his arms and surprised them both by grinning. “He’s a warhorse. I think he can manage an hour or two.”
She mumbled something vicious under her breath, but she turned and lifted her leg over the high front saddle horn, then wiggled that torturous bottom closer so that they fitted together.
He gritted his teeth and took a few deep breaths, grateful that his heavy leather breeches would disguise just how much she was affecting him.
Slowly, she started to relax between his arms. The stiffness of her spine softened, and she leaned her back against him, her head tucked under his chin. The men’s voices lowered, as if they too wanted her to rest as they rode on through the weak afternoon sunshine.
He noticed the moment that her weight fell completely against him, but he was reassured by the slow rise and fall of her chest as she nestled against him. His beast stirred again, filled with a deep sense of connection. She was so beautiful. And the first woman that he and his beast had ever agreed on wanting. He felt it down to the most primal parts of himself, how right it was to hold her in his arms. How badly he needed to protect her and keep her close.
Jennie Lynn Roberts believes that every strong, kickass heroine should have control of her own story, a swoony hero to support her at every turn, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Because that doesn’t always happen in real life, she began creating her own worlds that work just the way they should. And she hasn’t looked back since.
Jennie would rather be writing than doing anything else—except for spending time with her gorgeous family, of course. But when she isn’t building vibrant new worlds, she can be found nattering with friends, baking up a storm, or strolling in the woods around her home in England.
If you want to talk books, romance, movies, reluctant heroes, or just about anything else with Jennie, feel free to contact her atwww.jennielynnroberts.com. But be prepared to settle in for a long chat if you bring up shifters, vampires, Star Wars, or The Princess Bride….
When it hurts too much to live, how does one find the strength to stay alive and find hope again?
Reiko Nakano has a charmed life. Not only does the twenty-three-old come from a life of luxury because of her celebrity parents and supermodel sister, she’s best friends with the biggest brother and sister pop duo in the world- Gio and Gem Grove. But what the public assumes is wrong different because of what Reiko suffers in private. She feels she’s an outcast in her own family because of her ptosis and her social anxiety. She then makes the biggest mistake of her life and tries to turn her lifelong crush on Gio into something more. His cruel rejection after she lets him take her virginity leaves her heartbroken.
Reiko hides in the least likely of places- the small town of Albee, Pennsylvania. There she enjoys her anonymity and enrolls in summer classes at Maison University. She hopes she can fit in as a student, but life continues to play tricks on her when she’s hit in the face by a football from one of the most popular boys on campus, Will Forest. But this accidental but memorial meeting will help heal her fragile emotions because Will shows her how special she is to those she meets, including him.
She isn’t sure what to make of Will. He’s too nice and sweet, and treats her like gold. She accepts his attempts at romance even though it’s only temporary. But as the summer flies by, she doesn’t want to give Will up, who doesn’t know the truth about her “vacation”. And when Gio arrives in town, and threatens to out Reiko, she has some hard choices to make. Does she come clean to Will so she can decide to finally live on her own terms and embrace the amazing woman Will thinks her to be?
On a corner was a bookstore called Readers Opus. Dad’s latest release stood out among the books in the window. It was pretty cool not only to see his book front and center, but for the store to promote a quantum mechanics title. It had been too long since I’d been inside a bookstore, especially an indie. To kill time in case I still couldn’t find anything to wear for tonight, I entered, loving the library decor and wooden stacks of books with signs above pointing out the genres. I spotted the non-fiction section and went there to find Dad’s books.
Almost all of his books were there. I took out his first release and turned it over to check out his glamour shot, aka his headshot. He looked so young but still dignified. This was the only picture of him smiling. Must have been his excitement at getting published. I snapped a picture of the book with my cell, and went to do the same with the rest to send to him, but then noticed the magazine section behind me. Aya stared at me on the cover of at least three fashion magazines in the front. I snapped a picture of those magazines but shook my head at the absurdity of it.
“Why would the magazine section be near the non-fiction section?” I said louder than I’d intended, but there was no one around to hear.
Or I had thought no one heard. A few feet away Will, the football guy from Maison, sipped an iced-coffee-type drink and held a hardcover book.
“I agree with you100 percent about the magazine and non-fiction section.” He spoke around his straw then released it from his mouth.
“It’s you again.” I’d stated the obvious and mentally slapped my forehead.
“I’m surprised you recognized me with my shirt on and no football.” He strode toward me, giving me a good view of his Iron Steam concert shirt—OMG, he liked the same band I did!—and his vintage olive shorts that showed off his muscular thighs and calves. But what made me want to continue staring at him was the burgundy beanie on his head.
“I’m surprised I recognized you with the beanie,” I replied.
As he came closer, I lowered my eyes to the floor, not exactly from shyness but to catch my breath. He really was cute.
“I would recognize you anywhere with your awesome glasses. Also, we have the same taste in music. I’m a big fan of theirs.”
My love for Iron Steam was well known, but I rarely wore their shirt out since it was my stay-at-home, step-above-wearing-my-pajamas tee. Now, I was glad I’d worn it since it would give me something more to talk about with Will.
“I would have never thought you would be into pop punk. They just started getting popular on the West Coast the last couple of years.” I tugged on the hem of my yellow T-shirt, wishing it wasn’t so faded.
“Why? Because I’m some nerdy dude who accidently hits girls with footballs?” He zoned in on the area of my neck where I had been hit, making my face warm.
I pressed my palm to my shoulder. He thought he was nerdy? “I had a black and blue for a few days, but it’s gone now.”
He winced, and when he lifted his arm to his chest, I got a better look at his book. Dad’s latest release!
“I still feel awful for hitting you.” He glanced from his book to me. “Speaking of nerdy, I enjoy the work of Kobe Nakano. Do you know him?”
I sputtered and cleared my throat to stop from releasing a laugh. If only he knew how well I was aware of the author and his work. He’d get a kick out of it for sure.
“You could say I know him.” I could have revealed my connection, but Will’s reaction would have changed. There would be surprise and compliments thrown my way because I was Nakano’s daughter. He would know about Aya and Mom, and possibility my connection to the Groves. My cover would be blown.
Shirley Anne Edwards is a Northeast girl who first found her love for books when she read Nancy Drew’s The Secret of the Old Clock Tower at thirteen. Shirley found her love for writing at a very young age, and since then has let her imagination run wild by creating quirky characters and vast worlds in her head.
Shirley lives in New Jersey and works in the entertainment industry in New York City.
In the immortal words of Mark Twain: “Life is short, Break the Rules. Forgive quickly, Kiss SLOWLY. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret ANYTHING that makes you smile.”
Mckenna’s never thought much of her nightmares, but on her seventeenth birthday, a vivid dream of burning at the stake awakens her dormant abilities, thrusting her into a world where faeries are real, spirits hold a grudge, and a High Priestess obsessed with a 16th-century prophecy is tracking her every move.
Now, her overprotective dads, Seán and Andre, are forced to tell her the truth—they know who her birth mother is, and her life is not the surrogate story she’s always been told. Abigail, Mckenna’s mom, is some sort of mystic, and Mckenna a Wise One.
Whatever the hell that means.
With the help of a persistent little wren and company of a newfound friend, Mckenna journeys to Ireland in search of her mother and real answers. Along the way, she learns to harness her innate magic and trust her intuition, as best she can anyway—Cillian, a kind and passionate delegate who crosses her path, is proving much harder to read.
Only her mother could truly help her halt her ill fate and prepare her for what’s to come . . . before she gives in to the darkness she knows is buried deep within.
A sulphery scent filled the air, carried by a chill breeze. Pulled by the rushing sound of waves, Mckenna walked to the road’s end. Far below, the sea whispered its calming notes, both melodic and fierce, as though longing to impart wisdom to the land and sky. “I hadn’t realized we drove so high up.”
She followed Esme about a mile down a red dirt path, which gradually wound downwards to the water’s edge.
“Where are we?” Mckenna said as a rocky landmass came into view.
“Below, where you see the rock formation—that’s the Giant’s Causeway.”
As they drew nearer, Mckenna did a double take at the dramatic sight before her: At the foot of the cliffs lay uneven hills of thousands upon thousands of interlocked black rocks in the shape of hexagons. Like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle, the pieces fit together flawlessly. Esme urged Mckenna to walk around the site. She did, stepping up and down from stone to stone.
How could they have formed so perfectly? And why were they all at different heights? How were they floating on the sea?
That was when she realized . . . “Esme, these aren’t rocks, are they? These are columns.”
“Indeed. Forty thousand columns beneath the sea—basalt columns, meaning they’re formed from lava. Some as tall as thirty-nine feet. All of this was the result of a volcanic eruption some fifty million years ago, during the Tertiary period—but of course, there’s also an Irish legend that explains it all.” Mckenna smiled at this. “A Scottish giant, Benandonner, challenged an Irish giant, Fionn MacCool, to a fight. Being very proud, Fionn accepted and built a causeway across the North Channel to Scotland for the two to battle. But when Fionn saw the size of Benandonner, he ran back to Ireland and had his wife disguise him as a baby.
“The funny bit is, when Benandonner saw the size of the baby, he thought, ‘if the baby’s that big, can’t imagine his dad!’ So, he bolted back to Scotland, destroying the causeway along the way. Across the sea to the Scottish isle of Staffa, there are the same columns, made of the same basalt.”
“So, which story is true?” If faeries and ghosts existed, why not giants?
Katrina Tortorici Anglehart is a born and bred Italian-Canadian from Montreal. A devoted academic, she holds a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism; a graduate certificate in Scriptwriting; and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. After dabbling in TV writing and working as a digital marketing content manager, she left the nine to five to launch her freelance editing and coaching career. Today, she relishes in helping aspiring authors to develop and refine their stories.
Besides English, Katrina speaks French, Italian, and Spanglish. When she’s not writing, diving into magical reads, or Netflixing, she’s travelling with her favourite human–her high-school-sweetheart-turned-husband, Andy–and obsessing over her pet bunny, Magic, and newly rescued pup, Nessie. Katrina currently lives in Toronto, Ontario.
In a world where humans hate witches, there’s no one who hates them more than Jameson Tyler – they are the reason his mother and little sister are dead. Then one morning, he wakes to find those he’s hated for his entire life are now his only hope to understanding his new identity, his new life…as a witch.
Jameson has to get to the witch’s side of town – a place he’s never been and has loathed his entire life – and give up everything he’s ever known before the Witch Special Forces (WSF) captures him. On top of avoiding the WSF, when his new Headmistress attacks him, things get even more complicated.
He must accept his new fate and life before being killed, letting the Magical Community fall into the wrong hands. Can Jameson put his hatred aside or will he let his prejudice destroy them all?
“Who are you?” I stammered, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The guy was still walking toward me, weaving his way through the students and staff frozen in place.
“I’m Terin,” The guy said, as he came to stop in front of me. “What do you want?” I asked. “You.” I winced.
“Me? What do you want with me?” “Wow, you really don’t know who I am, do you?” “No…” “I’m Terin.” “You said that.” “I did, but you didn’t ask the right question. So whose fault is that?” I glanced around me, more than a little confused. I finally shrugged. “It’s yours. Now that’s two things you’re responsible for.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “I mean you didn’t ask the right question and you also froze everyone in this
school. See? One. Two.” My mouth dropped open. I stood there staring for what felt like ages. Terin
stood there, with his hands behind his back, calmly waiting for me to get over my shock. He finally cleared his throat and I shook my head. He rocked slightly on his heels.
“What are you playing at? I didn’t freeze everyone here. Only a witch would be able to do something like this and witches aren’t allowed on these grounds,” I said. I glared at him, wanting him to leave. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“Oh, Jameson. You really don’t know anything about witches, do you?” Terin said, shaking his head. I let out a bark of laughter.
“I know everything I need to – they’re vile, freaks of nature and they should be exterminated. Why would I need to know anything else?” I spat.
“Well, for one thing, it’ll help you learn how to control the power you just sent ricocheting throughout your entire school. For another, it’ll help you actually be productive in your new classes,” Terin finished.
He waved his hand around us, gesturing to everyone who stood silently and unmoving. He turned back to me, where I was silently freaking out. I didn’t want to be here anymore.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Sure you did. When you released your anger in that little temper tantrum, you sent out your power. You were able to send a shock wave through your entire school and freeze everyone here. Must have been really pissed about something to have frozen that many people with your first spell. Quite impressive really,” Terin looked around at the people standing around us, looking mildly amused.
“I don’t understand,” I shook my head, still not connecting the dots. Terin sighed and said the three words that ruined my entire life: “You’re a witch.”
