Title: Murder at the Met Author: E.W. Cooper Series: Penelope Harris Mysteries #2 Genre: Historical Mystery
November 1928, New York City. No one can keep a secret like high society – especially when that secret is murder.
There are two things Penelope Harris would rather do than get involved with another murder—sing opera and flirt with Thom Lund. When two tickets ensure Penelope and Thom get some precious time together at the Metropolitan opera, neither believes another murder will interrupt their romantic evening.
Fate has a different plan. Before the night is over a failed manufacturing tycoon is found dead at the bottom of a staircase, his poisoned and dying daughter nearby. Is it an accident? Suicide? Or murder? When a fellow soprano pleads for help, Penelope just can’t help her inquisitive nature.
As Penelope pulls back the cover on a diabolical crime, Lund rushes to complete the investigation of a suicide on the Gold Coast of Long Island. What they find will uncover the sordid underbelly of high society and put Penelope on the wrong side of her own gun.
Author of the Penelope Harris Mysteries, E.W. Cooper was ecstatic to learn her debut in the series, The Jade Tiger, was the 2020 Booklife Prize Finalist in Mystery/Thriller. A lifelong fan of classic mysteries and Grand Opera, Ms. Cooper is hard at work on the second book in the Penelope Harris Mystery series, Murder at the Met (April 2021). She lives quietly with her partner, children, three dogs, and one cat in a very noisy house in South Texas.
To learn more about Penelope Harris Mysteries (and the author) go to www.ewcooper.com and snoop around.
Title: Love in the City Author: Anthology Genre: Romantic Comedy
Get ready for thirteen heart pounding and laugh out loud rom-coms from thirteen bestselling and award winning authors, including Amazon chart toppers and USA Today bestsellers. Filled with mystery, second chances, soulmates, brother’s best friends, bad boys, nobility, and the cute guy in the cubicle next to you, these stories will captivate you and leave you wishing for more.
Download this limited edition box set while you can and indulge in these sweet and sexy leading men and strong and beautiful heroines while they fall in love in cities around the world.
Sariah Wilson – All’s Fair in Love and War Becky Monson -The Love Potion Jennifer Peel – Love the One You’re With Kirsty Greenwood – Love Will Save the Day Whitney Dineen – Love for Sale Aven Ellis – Love, the Viscount, & Me Shari L. Tapscott – Little Lost Love Letter Lucy McConnell – Love: Going Up? Kate O’Keeffe – A Very English Love Story Erin Huss – Love, Lies, and Limo Rides Melissa Baldwin – Thanks for the Love Stephanie Fowers – Love at the Masquerade Kathryn R. Biel – Vision of Love
When the idea for a new script brings Hollywood actor Kelan Hunter to the Wine & Chocolate Festival in the small town of Sweetland Valley, MD, sparks fly with the charming candy shop owner who has a list of reasons for why their love isn’t meant to be.
Ruthlessly organized Sydni Murray’s life goal checklist was derailed after her broken engagement last Valentine’s Day. Now, with the holiday fast approaching again and the town’s biggest chocolate festival on the horizon, she must put her biases about love on the backburner. Until Kelan walks into her shop with his model good looks and a box of his grandparents’ love letters that melt her heart.
But happy ever after may not be in the cards for the couple as Sydni’s in danger of losing her shop and Kelan’s plan to stay in Sweetland is threatened by an unbelievable career opportunity.
Syd hated memories. They crowded her mind more often than she wanted. Uninvited, unwelcome and oftentimes unbelievable. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward until her forehead touched the glass.
“You can try again,” her mother’s voice sounded softly from behind. “Remember you fell off that pretty pink bicycle the day after your daddy bought it for you?”
She didn’t have to turn around to know her mother walked further into the kitchen, going over to the stove area to do something that pertained to the dinner they were all waiting to have.
“I stood on the front porch watching you, my heart beating frantically for fear you’d hurt yourself. I would’ve preferred he’d bought you the dollhouse you’d circled in that catalog that came in the mail. But your daddy said no, it was time for you to learn how to ride and you did. No matter how many times you fell. Your little knees took a beating that summer.”
And so had her pride but she hadn’t given up. She’d finally mastered riding that bike without ever needing the training wheels and when Iman and all the other kids on the block got up early in the morning and set out to roam the town on their bikes three weeks later, Syd had been with them. She was the youngest of the bunch but determined to keep up.
“Life’s not really like riding a bike, Mama. I know it’s a nice sounding cliché, but it doesn’t actually apply to all situations.”
“I don’t know. You’ve opened a store and run it successfully for five years since coming home from Germany. I’d say you got back on that bike after the fall and started riding again.”
Syd sighed because that was something to be proud of, she just hated that the proclamation always came on the heels of thinking about the heart wrenching events that led up to her doing that great thing.
Turning, she walked over to the refrigerator, opened it and pulled out the pitcher of fresh brewed sweet tea her mother always kept chilling. “But I’ve never tried falling in love again.” Those words seemed to echo throughout the kitchen as she set the pitcher on the counter and opened the cabinet above to grab a glass.
Claudia kept on moving. “Now, I didn’t say anything about falling in love. All I said was the movie star guy was handsome and he was coming to the luncheon tomorrow. I’m not cupid, nor do I meddle in matchmaking anybody.”
She was glad she hadn’t been sipping from her glass of sweet tea when her mother spoke those blasphemous words. Claudia and Odell did more matchmaking in Sweetland than Marabelle did gossiping. The thought made her smile as she poured the tea and took a slow sip. Delicious as always. Her mother knew just the right amount of lemon and sugar to add to rival any bottled brand on the grocery store shelves.
“And you’re going to be at the luncheon anyway, so you might as well be nice to him. He’s a tourist and you know we’re a hospitable bunch here in Sweetland. Besides, Odell thinks he might be here to make a movie. Wouldn’t that be something? A movie about Sweetland.”
Claudia kept right on talking, while Syd leaned her backside against the counter, sipping her tea. Kelan had said he was writing a script, something he’d never done before, about a love story no doubt. That was the part that had pricked something inside her. He wanted to write a love story and aside from Valentine’s Day being her most lucrative season, Syd didn’t want anything to do with love. Not after being dumped on the sweetest holiday five years ago. So what were the odds that he’d come into her shop of all places in town and ask her about his grandmother’s letter.
It wasn’t chance or fate or anything like that because Syd didn’t believe in such things. She lived her life by her planner and relied only on that which she could predict and work toward making a reality. Anything else was foolishness and a waste of time. Like standing here thinking about a guy she didn’t know who was going to leave town just as quickly as he’d showed up. When her tea was finished so were her thoughts about Kelan Hunter, at least that’s what she’d intended.
Lacey Baker, a Maryland native, lives with her husband, three children, two grandchildren and English Bulldog in what most would call Suburban America–a townhouse development where everybody knows each other and each other’s kids. Family cook-outs, reunion vacations, and growing up in church have all inspired Lacey to work towards her dreams and to write about the endurance of family and the quest to find everlasting love. To date she has written in several genres including small town romance, YA paranormal (as Artist Arthur), a cozy mystery series titled Rumors and adult paranormal (as A.C. Arthur).
Princess Corla was supposed to be my soulmate. But we were star crossed. Two ships passing in the dark. Meant to be together, but never able to be together. At least that’s what I thought.
But it turns out—my life is a lie, evil forces are out to get us, Harem Station is spinning chaos, and the soulmate bond won’t protect us. Sounds pretty bad, right? But here’s the best part. I can change it. I can change all of it. If I can just find a way to get myself uncrossed.
Uncrossed is the last book in the Harem Station Series and features a man chasing his star-crossed soulmate through time, a bazillion enemies at the gate, an entire station in chaos, and an explosive ending that proves, once and for all, that love WINS in the end.
We continue the kiss and she bites my lip. Hard enough to draw blood. I don’t care though. I am being a dick to her. I feel like twenty-one fucking years of frustration have finally caught up with me. I don’t know where I am or who she is, so I’m sorry she’s being forced to bear the brunt of my disappointment. If she wants to make a point with that bite, she can make her fucking point.
And when she realizes I’m not going to punish her for that little act of defiance, she relaxes underneath me. Becomes soft and compliant.
That’s the part I like best about sex. The way I can bully them into compliance.
And then her legs wrap around my hips and she begins to move with me.
That’s the signal I always wait for. That moment when they give in. Not give up. I don’t mistake her lust for defeat.
She’s just into it.
I lean down on top of her, acutely aware of how small she is compared to me. How little, and slight, and thin, and yeah… weak.
But I want her to come. She has to get something out of this, right?
I slip a hand underneath her and start playing with her ass. She’s so wet that her juices are practically spilling out of her pussy. And she must be into the ass play because the moment my finger enters her, she goes still and moans.
“You’re a sun-fucked asshole,” she pants. But it’s done. And she says nothing else after that. Because she’s too busy wailing in her climax.
Her body lights up. And it’s not just some random glow, either. It’s fucking spectacular. White light leaks through the pores of her skin and I know that if her eyes were open right now, she’d be aiming beams of light at me.
I come. I come hard. Grunting and pushing myself deeper and deeper inside her.
But in that moment I can see her clearly. Her glow illuminates her face and…
I let out a long breath. “Corla?”
Her eyes open. And I was right. She’s aiming her light at me. I have to close my eyes to avoid the sting of brightness.
She closes them again and the room darkens enough for me to look at her.
“Corla,” I pant, unable to believe my eyes.
“Fuck you,” she says, pushing me off her.
And I’m so stunned, I don’t resist. Just topple off to the side. She turns her back to me and I… I’m suddenly at a loss for words.
Where am I? On Harem?
“ALCOR?” I whisper out loud, hopeful. Please. Please, for the love of the sun, be here!
But there’s no answer.
I look at Corla’s back. She’s still glowing a little. The light she emits makes her whole body glisten in the returning hazy darkness.
“Fuck you. I’m going to sleep for a minute because I’m tired. Don’t wake me up.”
“Listen—”
“I said,” she growls, “I’m going to sleep for a minute. I’m fucking exhausted after that light show. I just told you I didn’t like it.”
“Oh.” I’m… a little bit speechless. And now I feel bad. Guilty, actually. Because if I had known it was Corla I’d have been… gentle.
Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe I’d have been even more of a brute?
Maybe I’d have wanted to punish her for leaving me alone to fight this war by myself twenty-one years ago.
Maybe I’d have fucked her unconscious. Or unleashed a real light show.
I know I’m not supposed to be here. I get it. I’m inside the fucking spin node. And maybe this isn’t real, but this moment feels real enough for me. It feels like a fucking gift.
She is sleeping in a bed next to me. And if I get a choice of staying here or going back… well, I’m fucking staying.
Twenty-one years ago I met my soulmate. We took each other’s virginity. And then we went our separate ways.
Star-crossed. For all eternity.
I didn’t like the idea back then but let me tell you, I like it a whole lot less now.
JA Huss is a New York Times Bestselling author and has been on the USA Today Bestseller’s list 21 times. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.
Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world. Her book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019.
Title: A Flood of Posies Author: Tiffany Meuret Genre: Fantasy/Science Fiction
*2020 Cygnus Book Award for Science Fiction Long List*
It’s 2025.
Sisters, Doris and Thea, exist worlds apart, despite living within a few miles of one another. Doris with her regular home and regular husband and regular job, and Thea slinking along the edges of society, solitary and invisible. When a storm of biblical proportions strikes, the wayward sisters are begrudgingly forced together as the rain waters rise, each attempting to survive both the flood and each other.
One year later, Thea—now calling herself Sestra—floats throughout a ravaged, flood soaked world. Her former life drowned beneath metric tons of water, she and her only companion, Robert, battle starvation, heatstroke, and the monstrous creatures called Posies that appeared alongside the flood. When they run across what they assume to be an abandoned tugboat, their journey takes a new turn, and the truth about the flood and the monsters seems more intricately linked to Thea’s past than she may realize.
She orbited her sister and New Guy—the stars of the party, whatever the fuck it was for. Probably just to celebrate the fact that Doris had graced them all with her presence. Doris showed up, thinking she was just going to introduce this new guy to the folks, and the second her regal feet touched the foyer, their mother rang the entire fucking neighborhood. My God, everybody! She’s here! Hark, oh hark, ring the steeple bells.
But Ma was stupid, because all that fanfare did was back Doris into a corner. It made her edgy and sharp and sullen. Thea skirted through the people unnoticed, the same family as Doris—same born-again uncle, same noxious auntie, same neighbors across the street who’d watched her grow up. The neighbors that had hand-painted Christmas ornaments for them every year, but it didn’t matter how many ornaments had her name glued onto them. Thea skipped over the top of the family like a rocket. Everyone glared—oh, they looked at her, all right—but their attention fizzled out just as quickly. They darted away from her as if she was about to burst into flames. She might. Maybe she already had, and everyone could see it but her. Look at that girl, waltzing through the chicken skewer buffet as if she’s not shooting sparks everywhere. Thea’s head had been soaked in a fog lately. Perhaps they all knew something she did not.
But her mother didn’t seem to notice. The tilt of the room was off, but Thea couldn’t quite place it. She wished Doris would just leave. Then the party would collapse, and Thea could escape.
Doris was like gravity—everything spiraled out of control without her around.
Thea was itchy for some nicotine. Water dripped somewhere she couldn’t place, and the noise of it agitated her beyond measure.
Dad nodded at her as she escaped to the side yard to smoke. It was a nice place—dark and hidden, and she had a lawnmower and an old garden hose to keep her company. The exterior light had gone out last year, and to his credit, Dad kept it broken despite Ma’s nagging. Or Thea liked to think he did.
If not for the treacherous orange end of her cigarette, no one would ever have known she was there. So when she heard the crunch of approaching footsteps in the gravel, she knew it was someone looking for her.
Tiffany Meuret is a writer of monsters and twisted fairy tales. Her publications include Shoreline of Infinity, Luna Station Quarterly, Ellipsis Zine, and others. When not reading or writing, she is usually binge watching comfortable sitcoms from her childhood or telling her kids to put on their shoes for the tenth time. She lives in sunny Arizona with her husband, two kids, two chihuahuas, gecko, and tortoise.
An infamous human trafficker and murderer is hot on his heels, and he has nowhere to go. When his car breaks down in a small Texas town, he has no choice but to seek help from a biker bar in the middle of nowhere. After a lifetime of rejection, he doesn’t want to trust anyone ever again. But when he meets a blue-eyed bear at the bar who promises him kindness and protection, he desperately wants to believe that this time things will be different.
James Alan Cutter is on a mission.
As a member of an immortal motorcycle club entrusted with protecting humanity, he shouldn’t be taking time off for romance. But something about Abbott stirs his Daddy nature.
When evil stalks the boy Cutter has fallen for, his brothers in arms come together to protect their love.
Cutter’s Mission is a 48K motorcycle club romance with an age gap, size difference, and hurt/comfort.
After Cutter turned the lights down low in his room and finally settled in, his body was pulled into a deep, dreamless sleep. Sometime later, Cutter heard a slight click. Old soldier instincts kicked in and his body stiffened, preparing to fight. His senses reached out and quickly, he remembered he was in his own bed. The noise that had awakened him was the door handle turning. Light peeked in through the opening, and the silhouette of a trembling boy stood in his doorway.
“Abbott? What is it, boy?” He kept his voice quiet and nonthreatening.
“I – I had a nightmare. I’ll, I’m sorry, I…”
His quivering voice alerted Cutter to Abbott’s emotional state. “Abbott, come here.” He lifted his covers in invitation. Within seconds, his arms were full of his shaking redheaded temptation. He turned on his side, pulling Abbott close to him, keeping his arms wrapped tight. Abbott’s face burrowed closer to his chest, and Cutter could feel the wetness of his cheeks.
“I promise you, Abbott, I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” He was rubbing soothing circles on his boy’s back and placed little kisses on his forehead. “You are safe in this town. The Valhalla Warriors watch out for their own, and I guarantee no one could come to St. Germain and hurt you.”
Abbott sniffed. “But I’m not a member of your club. Why would they protect me?” His voice was muffled against Cutter’s chest. “Because you need help, and I can help. I want to. That’s all they need to know. And I—” He paused. What was the best way to tell this precious boy that Cutter wanted to protect him, be a Daddy to him? They weren’t friends, much less in a relationship so it was too early. Wasn’t it?
As an author, I’m looking to bring my readers joy. The Valhalla Universe is full of Amazonian Warriors, Valkyrie, gods, goddesses, war heroes who ride motorcycles, and the humans who love them. The Valhalla Warriors is an LGBTQ Series that is insta-love, low angst, light kink romp of fun and steam.
One movie star. One bodyguard. One seductive attraction. One deadly obsession. One chance to have it all. One shot to lose it all.
Henry: Falling for your bodyguard is so cliché. I cringe at myself sometimes, but then I just have to look at him to understand. How can you not fall for a man like that? Heroic, smart, stubborn, funny, sexy … how could I ever have resisted?
Bryan: Falling for your movie star client is incredibly cliché. I have heard of people in my position doing just that and used to scoff at them … but then I got placed as Henry Prince’s bodyguard. Unfortunately, his irresistible charm and undeniably sexy self has claimed me, heart and soul. I have no chance of getting out of this unscathed.
Then just as things begin to get red hot, a stalker from the past escapes with the intent to destroy us both. I won’t let anything bad happen to Henry, but what am I supposed to do when potential danger lurks behind every corner, behind every stranger?
Will our cliché beginning blossom into something more? Or are we destined for the typical Hollywood crash and burn?
Still … after all this time of denying ourselves, it feels weird to think we’re giving in now. As much as I want Bryan, I don’t want him to regret this. I think that could hurt me more than anything if he told me that he wished we never crossed this line.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you.”
He bursts out into laughter again. “You’ve been strutting around me naked for years, you have several times started to masturbate in front of me, you constantly flirt with me, but now you don’t want to pressure me?”
Well, said all at once, out loud, I sort of realize I am a jackass. Maybe I should get Cody to schedule me some more of those sexual harassment classes. Not that I would do any of those stated things with anyone but Bryan. And I only started to do them in the first place because I want the man so damn much that I have been driven crazy over the years.
But I don’t want Bryan to want me because I wore him down.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think that … I never wanted you to …”
Bryan stops his pacing and steps into my space, cupping the sides of my face.
Electricity sizzles through my body at the intimate touch, and I practically shake with nerves. I don’t want to fuck this up. It’s too important to me.
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were attractive. And I’ve never thought that about a man before. It was my job to pay attention to you, to notice you, and so maybe that played a part in how much that attraction grew. But I’d still want you, even if you hadn’t teased me with your body for the past few years. I’d still want the Henry who makes me laugh. The Henry who is generous with his time and money. The Henry who thinks coriander is evil but will happily eat a bull’s penis.”
I snort out a laugh at that one. I only did that once on a dare. It actually didn’t taste as gross as I expected.
“I’ve been feeling this way for a while, and I’ve denied it because of my position and because I knew how it would end. But now we have nothing to lose.”
I disagree with that. I would say we could have everything to lose. Or, at least, I could.
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: My Sweet Enemy Author: Jenny Hartwell Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
The only thing tempering their insta-hate is delicious attraction.
Sunny chocolatier Charlotte Beecher is unemployed, in student debt, and on the verge of hawking her beloved copper pots just to make ends meet. So when a gourmet chocolate factory chooses her as one of five candidates to help re-launch the company in their Charlie and the Chocolate Factory inspired competition, Charlotte begins to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Fellow contestant Luke Wells complicates her plans to win by a landslide with his flow charts and marketing projections. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Haughty is all about the bottom line and is as bitter as she is sweet. And when he snubs Charlotte in the first challenge, misunderstanding or not, she transforms from cream puff to jawbreaker. Bring. It. On.
But when these two rivals find themselves distracted by delicious attraction, will they let their passion get in the way of winning the competition?
The soft click of the key card in the front door sounded. Luke straightened from the island as the door opened. The soft glow from the undercabinet lights illuminated Charlotte, frozen in the doorway as she stared at him with wide eyes.
She wore high heels, tight jeans, and a fitted jacket over a low-cut top. She was, in a word, gorgeous.
Luke forced himself to blink.
“Um, hi,” she finally said, pulling her key card out of the lock without taking her eyes off him.
“Hello.” He kept his feet rooted to the spot.
Charlotte slowly walked into the kitchen area. Her unblinking gaze roamed over his bare chest and abdomen.
Luke’s skin felt hot, as if her stare was actually touching him.
“Did you have a good day?” he asked, trying to sound normal. Normal? Ha. He could barely manage normal on a typical day, let alone late at night when he was half-naked and the woman who’d caught his attention was looking delicious enough to eat.
She walked closer, her eyes still roaming across him. She was like a surveyor, mapping the contours and terrain of his muscles and sinews and flesh with precision. With focus. With intensity.
“I had a pretty relaxing day myself,” he said, filling the silence as he fidgeted with his ice-cream spoon.
She set her purse on the counter next to his bowl and stepped closer. Now only a foot separated them.
She was so short that he could see straight down the low-cut neckline of her shirt. He tried to look away. After all, he wasn’t a perv trying to sneak a peek, but his gaze returned to the tempting curves and shadows of her cleavage nonetheless.
Willpower, thy name is enemy.
Charlotte finally looked up at him. Her eyes seemed to glow in the soft, muted light.
“Charlotte, I just wanted to say again how sor—”
She covered his mouth with her fingers and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
He spoke against the light pressure of her touch. “But— ”
She arched an eyebrow.
He stopped.
Her lips tipped up at the corner as she scanned him once more. She seemed to relish the sight of his bare feet and plaid pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips, as well as the half-eaten bowl of ice cream on the island counter beside him.
She kept one hand on his mouth, and with the other, she plucked the spoon out of his nerveless fingers. Scooping up a small mound of ice cream, she slid the spoon between her lips and slowly pulled it out. Her tongue darted to her lower lip to capture a drop of the melted dessert. Charlotte closed her eyes and hummed as she swallowed the bite.
“I’ve been thinking.” She set the spoon back into the bowl on the counter with a clink and took a half step closer.
The air between them grew hot. Or there wasn’t enough air. Or something else involving air was happening because Luke’s lungs suddenly felt like they needed more oxygen than was available.
He opened his mouth to question her, but she traced her fingertips lightly over his bottom lip. Luke forgot what he’d meant to say. He forgot the year, his name, and even how words worked.
“Luke,” Charlotte whispered. Her face was luminous. Her scent, vanilla and flowers and a hint of chocolate, teased his nose. Her lips were pink and gorgeous and inviting.
He nodded, and her fingers dragged across his mouth with the slight movement. He wanted to close his eyes and take her finger into his mouth and swirl his tongue around it and groan, but he did none of those things. Yesterday, he’d hurt her. He needed to treat her with respect. He needed to tread lightly. He needed to—
Jenny Hartwell has a confession-she loves People magazine as much as Pride and Prejudice. Her fun, pop culture adoring side shines in her contemporary rom-com novels set in a gourmet chocolate factory while Jenny’s Regency romances feature strong damsels and swoony lords. Her writing has won or finaled in numerous contests including the Golden Heart, The Emily, Four Seasons, Fool for Love, and The Catherine. Jenny lives with her family in the verdant Pacific Northwest. She loves movies, travel, and staying up late with a good book. And, of course, chocolate. Jenny is represented by Lesley Sabga of The Seymour Agency.
I always turn up at just the wrong moment. I never know how to make the most of a situation; I don’t know the right thing to say, or when I should come or go. Let’s just say I have really shit timing. I’m not a smart guy. I don’t have great ideas. I’m practical, a hard worker; someone who lives for his family, and for the air that she breathes. It’s just a shame that the “she” in question never knew this. It’s a shame that I waited all these years to make my move. It’s useless to tell you, readers, that it was already too late; that I’d screwed everything up, once again. And, this time, my mistakes forced her to come home. Except she didn’t want to stay. And now she hates me – or maybe she doesn’t. I still haven’t worked out what’s going on between us, but like I said, I’m not the sharpest tool in the box. And even though this could be my last chance, I’m not going to be the one to ask her to stay. Not even if she turns out to be the one I’ve always waited for. Because she doesn’t belong in this place. And she doesn’t belong in my life. My name is Alex Brennan, and this is my story: of how I realised I’d lost the most important person in my life, before I even had her.
I whisper my answer onto her mouth, brushing against her; I try to say it again, but louder, in case she didn’t hear me, pressing my lips onto hers more firmly, carrying her away with me, before slowly letting them go with a sigh. I dive back in: this time, my tone is decisive, my movements more impatient. Her lips part, and my tongue slips between them, giving her my answer once again, telling her everything she needs to know. My hands frame her face, her hands lost in my hair. She moves closer, so that we’re chest to chest; her tongue dances around mine, telling me that this isn’t just a senseless monologue, but a full-blown discussion: one with commas, exclamation points, and pauses for breath. There are so many breaths, which she robs from me and I steal back from her.
I’ve never kissed her like this before, and I want to make sure it’s one she never forgets.
We pull apart for a moment, giving me just enough time to admire her shining eyes, before I remind her again of my answer. I don’t think I’ve made it clear enough, yet.
I pant onto her mouth and go back to her; I take her lips between mine and nibble them, gently. My hands slide down her back, her arms, her sides, in search of the hem of her top; my fingers delve underneath, seeking out her skin.
Ellie lets herself go, lets me set the pace. She wants to hear what I have to say, with no interruptions, just as I asked. But her hands have another idea; they don’t know how to stay put, weaving her fingers through my hair and grabbing it, before letting it go. They slide down my face and stroke my beard, keeping me close to her. Her body is pressed against mine, as if it needs to recognise me, know how to excite me; how to love me.
We kiss like this, by the dock, across from the bay.
We kiss like this, like we’ve never kissed before; as if we needed to understand that our mouths were really meant for one another.
We kiss like this, as if we’d been kissing for ten years, and knew the shape of each other perfectly; as if we knew all the stopping points, when to breathe.
We kiss like this, as if the love I’ve always felt for her were the same as the love she feels for me, now.
We kiss like this, as if the woman I’ve been waiting my entire life for is finally back where she belongs.
We kiss like this, as if I were telling her that I could never be anyone but hers.
We kiss like this, as if she were telling me she can only ever be mine.
The time has come for Kai and her friends to make a final stand, and as the war begins, everyone must choose a side. But with the lines between good and evil more blurred than ever, Kai has to stick with her convictions and follow her heart. Kai’s first priority is to free Finn from the clutches of Tessa Raven, who has become no better than the evil she once fought against.
As Kai reluctantly turns against the people she once considered her closest friends, she becomes entangled in a struggle with a mysterious new power that threatens to destroy what is left of Finn and change everything she thought she knew about the planet.
Meanwhile, Charlie and Aric remain behind and help Raven breach the underground world of the Science Council. All bets are off as they prepare to cross every line and burn every bridge in an attempt to claim the world that has abused them for too long.
Raven ran her ungloved hand over the smooth, cool metal of the missile. She needed it to shatter the barrier—opening the way down so that she could destroy the Science Council. She knew enough about terminal ballistics to be able to calculate its exact impact on the crystal tube that led to the Science Council’s underground lair when it struck. The only problem was that the makeup of the tube was so unique…
“It’s a thing of beauty, Raven,” Sayers commented. He stared at her hungrily from his spot amongst her people, seeking approval.
“Yes, it is,” she offered, and he smiled.
“The only problem is, because the substance we’re striking has never been studied, there’s no way to tell if it will work without testing it. Our likelihood for success is still low.” She glanced around the interior of the Dome of Artifacts, taking in the relics from the original Earth with an appreciative eye. “And I’m not willing to risk destroying all of these artifacts by blowing up the whole place when the chance of it failing to destroy the tube is unacceptably high.”
Her soldiers stood around her, silent, waiting for her suggestions. She’d been trying to puzzle this out for three weeks, and the answer was painfully obvious: a last straw plan. And yet, she hesitated, because there was a small part of her that wanted to try every other possible scenario before resorting to what she knew would work, even though she knew that wasn’t logical.
Damn my weakness.
“We’ll need something softer,” she said at last. “Something that will turn to mush on impact rather than ricocheting off the crystal and taking out this whole place. Also, we’ll need something much bigger… heavier.” She scrutinized the crystal tube housing of the elevator platform that had, thus far, been impossible to penetrate.
“Would you like us to try crafting a hollow missile that’s twice this size?” asked Larson. “We’d have to melt this down first.” He gestured toward the missile they’d taken three weeks to craft and painstakingly calibrated.
“No.”
The time to divulge her last straw plan was now. She knew a missile wouldn’t work. A rain of bullets wouldn’t work. But she happened to have a special tool—a former friend who could run at the speed of a bullet and who was close to two hundred pounds.
A human body hitting the tube at that speed would spread adequate weight over a large enough surface area to crack open the entryway to the Science Council’s underground world like an egg. Also, a body would explode upon impact, resulting in a mostly liquid byproduct, causing minimal damage to the artifacts. Finn’s sacrifice would save the planet.
Tracy Auerbach is an author of science fiction and fantasy for teens and adults. As an avid reader with a vivid imagination, she chose to study film, English, and education, and went on to teach and write STEM curriculum for the New York Department of Education. This helped to polish her writing skills and ignite her passion for science fiction and fantasy.
Her first scholarly article, published in Language Magazine, was about the value of active, creative learning in science. On the fiction side, Tracy’s work has been featured in the online literary journal Micro-horror, The Writing Disorder fiction anthology, and the “(Dis)ability” short story anthology, in addition to her novels.
When she is not teaching or writing, Tracy is usually reading or spending time with her family. She lives in New York with her husband and sons.
