Welcome to Forever
Hero’s Welcome #1 By: Annie Rains Released December 1, 2015 Loveswept
“Don’t miss this sparkling debut full of heart and emotion!” raves Lori Wilde. The Hero’s Welcome military romance series introduces a small coastal town where America’s best and brightest risk everything for love.
In Seaside, North Carolina, there are two kinds of people: Marines, and kids of Marines. Then there’s Kat Chandler. Recently hired as the principal of Seaside Elementary, Kat makes it her mission to turn the school into a place of peace and calm. That’s not going to be easy with hard-liner parents like Micah Peterson storming in, telling her how to do her job—and then kissing her with those gorgeous lips of his and turning her brain into mush. As a Marine Sergeant and a single dad, Micah Peterson has just two priorities: doing his job better than anyone else, and getting the absolute best for his son, Ben. But when he meets Ben’s beautiful new principal, a different yearning shifts into focus. He wants her, sure, but he’s also moved by the connection Kat forges with her students. So after learning that she refuses to date Marines, Micah sets two more objectives: convincing Kat to give him a chance . . . and then holding on to her forever. “Have you thought about that kiss?” she asked, as he leaned in close to fasten her seatbelt. She couldn’t control what was coming out of her mouth. “Because I have. A little.” She started laughing again. Val had warned her that she was a horrible drunk, and evidently, it was true. “What have you thought about it?” he asked, his voice low and bristly. Her buckle snapped into place with a loud click. He could step back now, but he didn’t. And she didn’t want him to. What was the point of being drunk if you couldn’t say and do what you wanted, and then apologize for it in the morning? No one blamed a drunk, they blamed the drink. “I thought that I liked it. The kiss. It was amazing.” She held her breath as he lingered in front of her, his hand still resting on the seat’s buckle. “I thought the same thing.” “You did?” She swallowed thickly, as her heart rode up her throat. His brow lifted. “You sound surprised.” “I’m out of practice.” She nibbled on her lower lip, drawing his gaze there. Then his gaze flicked back to her ring. Just the thought squashed the flutterings in her chest, leaving a deep ache that vibrated with the alcohol. “He’s been gone for two years,” she said. Micah’s brows pinched together softly. Explaining about John in her state wasn’t a good idea, though. She might start crying, which she didn’t do in front of others anymore, and right now all she wanted to do was forget everything but their kiss. That she wanted to remember. “You could kiss me again,” she said softly. His smile deepened and, damn, he smelled good. Leaning in closer to her ear, his hot breath melted her as he whispered, “Kat, you’ve had too much to drink. I’m taking you home now.” Before she could process what he’d said, he stepped back and shut the Jeep’s door, the sound as offensive as if someone had crashed cymbals in her ears. A moment later, he reappeared on the driver’s side and cranked the engine, another sound that made her wince. She closed her eyes, unsure of what to do with her drunken emotions. “If I kiss you again, I want to be one hundred percent sure it’s what you want. Not because my almost ex is walking up and you want to help me out. Not because you’ve had too much to drink and want to escape.” She suddenly felt very tired, as the Jeep Cherokee headed out of the parking lot. “So, you are going to kiss me again?” she asked. Before she could hear his answer, though, her eyes closed and the sounds of the road and his voice, and the blood thundering in her head, blurred together. She remembered their kiss, the feel of his stubble roughly brushing against her cheek, and the way he had smelled like pine and fudge brownies. No, wait. His eyes reminded her of fudge brownies. He didn’t smell like them. Her eyes fluttered open. Yeah, she was definitely going to regret tonight in the morning.
Annie Rains is a USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance author who writes small town love stories set in fictional towns on the coast of North Carolina. Raised in one of America's largest military communities, Annie often features heroes who fight for their countries, while also fighting for a place to call home and a good woman to love.
When Annie isn't writing, she's spending time with her husband and 3 children, or reading a book by one of her three favorite authors. Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
0 Comments
Of Cinder and Bone
By Kyoko M Genre: SciFi Thriller, Fantasy
After centuries of being the most dangerous predators on the planet, dragons were hunted to extinction. That is, until Dr. Rhett “Jack” Jackson and Dr. Kamala Anjali cracked the code to bring them back. Through their research at MIT, they resurrected the first dragon anyone has seen alive since the 15th century. There’s just one problem.
Someone stole it. Caught between two ruthless yakuza clans who want to clone the dragon, Jack and Kamala brave the dangerous streets of Tokyo to steal their dragon back in a race against time before the world is taken over by mutated, bloodthirsty monsters that will raze it to ashes. Of Cinder and Bone is an all-new sci-fi thriller from the author of the Amazon bestselling Black Parade novels. Don’t miss out on this explosive first-in-series!
“Yep, this is exactly where I thought I’d be at this point in my life,” Jack sighed, pulling on yet another pair of latex gloves as he stared forlornly at the reeking dumpster. “Ass-deep in garbage.”
“We lead a charming life,” Kamala agreed. “At least the manager was kind enough to let us do this without a fight. Technically, we’re supposed to wait for the police.” “Not enough time on the clock for that. We’ll work out the details later.” Jack cleared his throat and cast her a sidelong glance, smirking. “Ladies first?” Kamala sent him a glare that could curdle milk. His smirk widened into a grin before he tossed both large black lids back and heaved himself up over the side. He landed and wobbled for a moment before shuddering as the stench of rotten food swallowed him whole. He breathed through his mouth in shallow bursts, his eyes tearing, and managed to keep his breakfast down after a moment. “Yep,” he said weakly, offering Kamala his arm. “Charming, indeed.” She climbed in next to him and they carefully rooted through the trash, checking for any bits of electronics in case the laptop had been disassembled before being tossed. “What are the odds that we’ll find it in this mess?” “We probably have a better chance of growing wings and flying around the city,” Jack said, grimacing as he tossed a half-filled macchiato aside. “But the devil’s in the details. There is no perfect crime. If Okegawa was on a deadline, he might have been in a rush. Being in a rush means making mistakes. That’s all we need. Just one mistake to catch him.” They searched for the better part of half an hour before Kamala heard a suspicious crunching sound beneath her covered boots. She shifted a few things aside and found a long white cord. She tugged sharply on it and the battery charger for a MacBook laptop popped free, swinging in her hand. She met Jack’s gaze and they both tore through the trash surrounding that spot. A moment later, Kamala’s hands closed on Jack’s laptop. “Hello, beautiful,” Jack said, wiping grime and gunk off of it. “Leave it closed. I’m sure the garbage probably did a number on any evidence on the outside, but there might be fibers or hairs between the keyboard and the screen. Nice work, Dr. Anjali.” She flashed him a grin, handed it to him, and turned to exit the dumpster. She stopped after only a step. Jack realized why a second later. “Konnichiwa,” Okegawa said pleasantly, his smile off-setting the silenced Beretta .9mm in his large hand. “Ogenki desu ka?” “We’ve been better,” Kamala said, slowly raising her hands. Jack did the same, but he inched towards her in an attempt to block Okegawa’s line of sight. “Relax, Jackson,” Okegawa drawled, his tone almost bored. “I have no intention of hurting ojō-sama.” “Well, you tossed my apartment and now you have a gun pointed at us,” Jack said. “You understand my concern.” “Of course. The gun is merely insurance. If I wanted you dead, I could have had it done already. I think you know that, as smart as you are.” Jack narrowed his eyes. “Then what do you want?” “A distraction. That’s why I left the laptop for you to find. It gave me time to break into your car and take the other laptop. I’ve been trying to get it for days, but ojō-sama takes it with her everywhere, unlike you.” Kamala clenched her jaw. “How long have you been following us?” Okegawa shrugged. “Not long. Had to get everything prepped and tie up loose ends.” “Is that what we are now? Loose ends? It’s broad daylight, man. You can’t just shoot us and walk away. Hell, you’ve probably only got another thirty seconds before one of the Starbucks employees empties the trash and sees you.” “Hai. That’s why you’re going to toss me the laptop.” “Or you’ll shoot me?” What little light there was in Okegawa’s brown eyes sputtered out. “Hai.” “You just said you didn’t want me dead.” Another dispassionate shrug. “I’d prefer not to, but if you push me, I will retaliate.” “Jack,” Kamala whispered. He glanced at her. She kept her eyes on Okegawa, but her tone was enough. He exhaled and tossed Okegawa the laptop. It landed at his feet, shattering several pieces over the concrete with a loud crash. Okegawa flinched on instinct, his eyes snapping towards it for a split second. Kamala took her Taser out of her pocket and shot it at Okegawa. Okegawa screamed as the electrified prongs hit him. Jack pulled Kamala down into the dumpster as the gun went off twice, tearing two chunks out of the wall where he’d been standing. They both lay panting in the garbage heap as they heard a thud and then nothing. Jack motioned for her to stay put and slowly rose to his knees, peeking over the rim of the dumpster. Okegawa lay on the ground, twitching occasionally, his eyes shut, teeth clenched, the gun lying several feet away. Jack scooped Kamala up in his hands with a hysterical laugh, holding her above his head. “You. Are. Freaking. Brilliant.”
Kyoko M is an author, a fangirl, and an avid book reader. Her debut novel, The Black Parade, has been on Amazon's Bestseller List at #5 in the Occult Horror category.
She has a Bachelor of Arts in English Lit degree from the University of Georgia, which gave her every valid excuse to devour book after book with a concentration in Greek mythology and Christian mythology. When not working feverishly on a manuscript (or two), she can be found buried under her Dashboard on Tumblr, or chatting with fellow nerds on Twitter, or curled up with a good Harry Dresden novel on a warm central Florida night. Like any author, she wants nothing more than to contribute something great to the best profession in the world, no matter how small. WEBSITE FACEBOOK TWITTER GOODREADS
Masquerading With the Billionaire
Guide to Love #4 By: Alexia Adams Releasing March 13, 2017 Entangled Indulgence
World-renowned jewelry designer Remington Wolfe is competing for the commission of a lifetime and someone is trying to destroy his company from the inside.
He’s in for more than one surprise when his unexpected rescuer turns out to be a sexy computer specialist with a sharp tongue and even sharper mind. Kat Smith is a cyber-security expert and master of disguise. So being assigned to masquerade as Wolfe’s girlfriend while she uncovers who slipped malicious code into his corporation’s computer systems is no problem. But when Kat’s past catches up to her and their fake relationship starts to feel a little too real, problems are all she seems to have.
A fun, witty, and sexy story that seamlessly flowed out of the pages delivering a tale of love, loss, and deceive. The layers of lies and falsity laying on every step of the way, putting the characters life on the edge and into a constant danger of being found out or being betrayed.
I enjoyed the characters immensely. They were interesting, had depth, smarts, unique wisdom and a broad worldview. That the author knew what she was talking about when she created these multinational characters was obvious, the cultural matters were so spot on, and the environments exact and legitimate giving the story credibility and validity. Remington Wolfe is not your typical billionaire. His wide understanding of life and people who grew up differently than himself was refreshing. Being neglected as a child was something that gave him and Kat something to bond over, making their connection from the first moment on more profound. Remington was kind, generous, and caring. His offer to let Kat cry on his arms melted my heart. Kat Smith was an amazing character. She had overcome more than most can even comprehend. Yet she had managed to make a life for herself, a good life with a bright future. As long as she is not caught in the web of lies her whole life exist on. I felt so connected to her, to the mix of languages in her mind, and longing for the home far away a long time ago that wasn't there anymore. Together Kat and Remington went from steaming hot to endearing and adorable in a heartbeat. Having watched Remington Steele on the television gave me a connection to the story that is unique, the images the tale created in my mind more specific. The elements of suspense and treachery brought intensity to the tale and helped to move the plot forward and the characters around the world. A well written, marvelously entertaining tale! ~ Four Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
She took a deep breath. “As I don’t have a UK work visa, though, your HR department might figure out that something’s up. The other option would be for me to pretend to be your girlfriend.” She winced as his foot slid off the clutch mid-shift, and the car protested his attempted gear change.
“What makes you think I don’t already have a girlfriend? I don’t double dabble.” She laughed, and he white-knuckled the gearshift. “Bonus points for the computer term. Have you been studying?” “A little. But I realized I was out of my depth and had to call in an expert.” The look he sent her this time implied he still doubted her credentials. He’d see soon that she knew her stuff. It probably wasn’t fair that she knew so much about him when, as shown by the fake cat-lady photo, he knew nothing about her. “I’m an expert. For example, I know that unless you’ve switched to more discreet female companionship, your last intimate relationship ended five weeks ago. She claimed you were, and I quote, ‘emotionally unavailable.’ But judging by the number of photos on Instagram of her kissing her dog, I assume you got tired of your girlfriend tasting like Shih Tzu.” His laugh filled the car and drew an answering smile from her. “You’re not wrong. But how did you know I broke up with her? Maybe she shattered my heart?” “Because shortly after your name stopped appearing in her social media feeds, she was suddenly sporting an expensive-looking tennis bracelet. I doubt men who get their heart shattered give their exes break-up jewelry.” He shrugged but his face was still lit by a smile. “I write it off as a marketing expense.” “I bet you have a whole line of relationship termination pieces.” “True. I call it the ejection collection. Makes me a fortune.” “Well, rest assured, I won’t be demanding any rocks if we go the fake girlfriend routine. Smacks of payment for services rendered to me.” That elicited a raised eyebrow. “Will services be rendered? This is sounding like the better option.”
A former world wanderer, Alexia Adams writes contemporary romance stories that reflect her love of exotic destinations and diverse characters and cultures. She currently lives near Vancouver, Canada with her husband and four children and dreams of a world without housework. As a flight risk mom, romance is her escape and she can often be found with her nose in a book, pretending she’s somewhere else. Check out her website, and sign up for her monthly newsletter to discover your next escape.
Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
FEARLESS
by Lynne Connolly
Genre: Historical Romance
Pub Date: 8/22/2017
Scandal is his chosen path—until this infamous Shaw surrenders to love . . .
When Lady Charlotte Engles receives an offer of marriage from an eligible suitor, she’s finally ready to let go of her long-held hope that her engagement to Lord Valentinian Shaw will result in marriage. For despite the betrothal their families made between them, Val shows no interest in leaving his reckless life behind in favor of one with Charlotte. But when her plea to end their arrangement ends in a heated embrace, suddenly Val seems reluctant to let her go . . .
The last thing Val wants is a wife, despite how desirous his lovely bride-to-be has become. But when he discovers sweet Charlotte is planning to marry a dastardly man, he feels duty bound to keep her safe, even if that means making good on his marriage pledge. Then Charlotte is taken hostage by her dangerous suitor and suddenly Val is ready to risk everything for the woman who has won his heart ..
Lynne Connolly was born in Leicester, England, and lived in her family’s cobbler’s shop with her parents and sister. She loves all periods of history, but her favorites are the Tudor and Georgian eras. She loves doing research and creating a credible story with people who lived in past ages. In addition to her Emperors of London series and The Shaws series, she writes several historical, contemporary and paranormal romance series.
Zoe Saldivar is more than just single-she's ALONE. She recently broke up with her longtime boyfriend, she works from home and her best friend Jen is so obsessed with her baby that she has practically abandoned their friendship. The day Zoe accidentally traps herself in her attic with her hungry-looking cat, she realizes that it's up to her to stop living in isolation.
Her seemingly empty life takes a sudden turn for the complicated - her first new friend is Jen's widowed mom, Pam. The only guy to give her butterflies in a very long time is Jen's brother. And meanwhile, Pam is being very deliberately seduced by Zoe's own smooth-as-tequila father. Pam's flustered, Jen's annoyed and Zoe is beginning to think "alone" doesn't sound so bad, after all.
A Million Little Things is a story about family and friends, loving and living, and all the challenges women face in today's society. With three women in focus who throughout the story confront the variety of the demands of life from career choices to dating to child rearing to marriage to losing your spouse and everything else imaginable in between the story has something, most will relate to.
The characters challenged me while reading the story because it is so life-like and their actions at times thus flawed, to understand their reasoning and opinions took patience and broadmindedness that I lacked with some issues. It took me awhile to get into the tale, but once it opened up to me it was an emotional experience. Zoe Saldivar had more courage than she gave herself a credit for. At the crossroads with her career and future, she seeks for the possibilities, takes chances, and isn't afraid to ask for help. She has the patience and broadmindedness that I seemed to lack with her friends. Her relationship with her dad is honest and open like all her relationships were, I enjoyed the banter between the father and daughter, often making me smile. Zoe and Steven's chemistry and connection were easy, there were no quibbles even though there were obstacles on their way. They were genuine and sincere with each other in the big and small things, the straightforward honesty and dignity they handled things with were delightful, there was a sense of effortless bonding between them that told about the contentment they had with each other. Jen and Pam, the mother-daughter duo, took turns to rattle my patience. Jen grew on me, her change, development in the story is the most remarkable one with the found medical conditions, that no one had paid attention to before, helping her to calm down. The troubles and anxiety she has to go through until she finds her footing again were raw and rough. I grew to like and understand her better as the story unfolded, I admired her willingness to stand up for her mother and speak up when needed. Pam was the opposite, the more I found out about her, the more her opinions and views were revealed, the more I resented or disliked her, and she never really won me over again. Her sincerity was lacking in my eyes. Life is hard, there are many bumps in the road and obstacles in our way as we try to find our place in the society and peace in our minds. To have friends and family to stand by you and help you face both the difficult and the joyful times lightens the load and makes it easier to move forward. A Million Little Things is what life is all about, those tiny ripples in life that make the waves that move life forward ~ Four Spoons
At twenty-eight, Shelby Quinn’s already a has-been. Scooped off a country stage at sixteen and remolded into glittery pop princess Tara Gibson, she toured the country for a decade, playing to sold-out stadiums while slowly losing her soul. Now her sales are waning, and when her beloved father dies in a fiery plane crash, she finally comes apart at the seams. Alone and brokenhearted, she hides away at Whisper Creek Ranch, never expecting to meet a man who understands her in a way no one else ever has.
Cooper Davis was one of Boston’s top detectives—until a bogus investigation cost him his badge, his family, and almost his life. Now he’s wrangling horses and guests at Whisper Creek Ranch, while keeping one eye firmly on a super-secret VIP holed up in a private cabin—a beautiful, soulful singer who knows what it’s like to lose everything. Cooper and Shelby both have ample reason to guard their hearts. But if they can learn to trust each other, something magical awaits them under the big skies and bright stars.
With a perfect mix of sweet, tender love, humor and heartache the new installment to the Whisper Creek series stole my heart. The stories in the series have always been entertaining and cause of a many smiles, sighs, and laughs and Meant To Be was right there with the rest of them.
Shelby Quinn, the pop star, didn't have a diva bone in her. Rather she felt lost in the world of demands and expectations. She had been catered to most of her life and not by her choice. All decisions made for her by the label, she had zero control of her life and losing her beloved dad was just too much. She is talented, kind, caring, considerate person, weary and drained by the industry, waiting for her contract to run out like a person would count the days to be released from a prison. Cooper Davis, the cop-cowboy with a guitar stole Shelby's heart with a plate of spaghetti. Cooper is jaded and disappointed with the events in Boston, now trying to find his way again until bad news from home destroy all the hope for future he had managed to build while in Montana. Cooper was such a great character, so perfect for Shelby, together they truly were harmonious. I enjoyed the connection they had, their chemistry was spot on. The passion and attraction between them were palpable, yet the most intimate moments were left behind the closed doors. The story was entertaining while managed to touch so many emotions. There were smiles and sighs with the adoration and devotion between Cooper and Shelby, there were even laughs with the humor and light banter between Cooper and his sister. And there were tears when Shelby was mourning and remembering her dad's love and care. In so many ways a pleasant, pleasing, and enjoyable tale, a wonderful story about falling in love at the moment when you are at lowest point in your life. ~ Four Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
Origin
Glory MC #2 By: Ana Jolene Releasing March 14, 2017 Self-Published
One drunken kiss ignites an inferno of burning desire. Sworn enemies, Lucky Winters and Seven Douglass struggle to forget the kiss that shouldn't have happened. Then Lucky’s past comes back to bite him and he suddenly disappears for months, leaving Seven wondering where they both stand.
When Lucky returns, he is a changed man and his prolonged absence means he must once again prove himself to the club he's sworn his life to. Except Lucky can’t seem to shake off the recent events as much as he wants to. Seven is no stranger to this feeling. Her own mysterious past threatens to disrupt her future and when neither of them are able to stop the ghosts of their pasts from resurfacing, the only person they can turn to is each other. Suddenly, hatred morphs into love. And where there is fire and ice, there’s bound to be some steam . . .
It must’ve been the shots earlier, but a strange sense came over me. My mouth turned dry. My hands became balmy and my head suddenly wasn’t working right, because any other time, I wouldn’t have ever thought about this.
In this state, with her disheveled hair, her imperfect lips, and her skin flushed with heat, Seven looked sexy. Desirable. Lovable, even. And for the first time ever in my life, I wasn’t sure what to do next. As if of its own volition, my hand drifted to her thigh, to the exact same place where the dickhead’s hands had been. For some reason, I wanted to erase every trace of his hands on her, replacing it with mine. I glanced up to gauge Seven’s reaction. Any look of disgust that crossed her face would have me pulling back immediately. But instead, I encountered the opposite. Seven stared back at me as if entranced, her lips parted as she panted shallowly. I waited for it. For her to say something like, “I’ll give you ’til the count of ten to take your dirty hands off my thigh before I scream.” Or something equally worse. But Seven sat there waiting, anticipation burning in her cerulean eyes. She didn’t actually want me to kiss her, did she? I winced at the rush of blood that pounded in my temples like a dark beat. Suddenly, I wanted to. In the back of my mind, wicked thoughts swirled as I recalled the image of her wrapping those red lips around that shot glass earlier. It made the red-blooded male in me wonder what other things she could do with that mouth. For the third time that night, I had to forcefully stop my mind from fantasizing about a certain blonde bombshell. Yup. There was no doubt about it now. I was drunker than I had let on. I shouldn’t have ever given her a ride home. But it wasn’t the worry of crashing on the side of the road that terrified me. It was this unfamiliar feeling of wanting what you knew you shouldn’t that scared me now. Yet all that seemed to be forgotten as this indiscernible draw pulled me closer to her. My hand on her thigh grew courageous, exploring more skin. Her eyes drifted shut for a moment, as if she wanted to get lost in this confusing emotion circulating between us as much as I did. All this time, Seven remained wordless. It wasn’t in her to ask, I realized later. Seven had too much pride for that. But her eyes, the wide oceanic blue, told me all I needed to know. I was looking into the eyes of a woman who wanted to be kissed. And fuck me, I wanted to kiss her, too. I leaned in, running my hand through her already finger-tossed hair. My hand caught in something. Gently, I tugged it free, only realizing later what it was. A hairpin with a golden wing attached to it. I palmed it and slid it into my back pocket for now, not wanting anything to break this hypnotic moment. My hand immediately returned to her face, running over her cheek, registering the smoothness. All this time, I thought her to be prickly due to her personality. But her skin was baby soft. So different than I made her out to be. I drew my hand towards the back of her head as the need to kiss her turned ravenous. I should’ve pulled back. Should’ve stopped this madness before it was too late, but fuck it all, her lips could tempt a saint. The first pass of my lips over hers was electric. As she groaned, I deepened the kiss, luxuriating in her response. I didn’t know what was better —the way she curled her fingers into the back of my neck or how her tongue darted out to lick at the seam of my mouth. How had I never known this fire, this burning desire before? Seven’s mouth was an aphrodisiac, a forbidden fruit that now that I had a taste of, I wanted more. Women threw themselves at me all the time. But none were as sweet as Seven. My hands grew rougher as I tugged on her hair, tipping her head back so that I could run my mouth down her throat. I was surprised when she arched her back, further offering her body to me. Like the greedy bastard I was, I took in my fill. Not just with my eyes, but with my hands too, reaching out to graze over her breasts and thighs. Her skirt slid up higher, bunching at her waist. Within the shaft of moonlight peering into the car, I could see the white scrap of fabric shielding her from my view. Oh my God-- Thought barely registered before Seven pushed me away. “Wait!” What the hell? I backed off immediately, the bubble of passion popping like a balloon. It was akin to being yanked out of a dream. My mind felt muddled and disoriented like I had an out of body experience and was just coming back into myself. “Shit.” In a flood, rational thought returned to me. “I shouldn’t have done that.” She was drunk and I had taken advantage of her. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as if I could remove every trace of what had just happened. But holy hell, I was harder than a rock! Seven’s eyes had changed. They were no longer hazy. Gone was the willing, plaint woman of just moments ago; I was with the other Seven again. The one who despised me. Had it really been different between us for a while there? One minute she was hot as fire in my hands and then, a second later, she was frigid again. “I’m sorry but I can’t do this,” she whispered. “Right.” I had no idea what the fuck had come over me, but this was crazy. “You and I,” she said, indicating us with her hand. “We’re fire and ice. We don’t go well together.” I swiped a hand over my hair, feeling more than just my dick deflating. “Thanks for reminding me.” Her eyes turned sharp with my bitter tone. “I didn’t want to do something we’d both regret. That’s all I’m saying.” “Yeah, I got it, sweetheart. You realized who you were tangling tongues with and it turned you off.” “Lucky, I didn’t mean that. Don’t put words in my mouth.” Shrugging, I returned to my full height. Shoving my hands into my front pockets, I stepped back, giving her space to get out of her car. “Go inside,” I said quietly. “Get some sleep.” “Lucky,” she whispered. I stared at her. She stared back. When Seven finally realized I wouldn’t say more on the topic, she huffed her frustration and slipped out of the car, adjusting her skirt from where my hand had pushed it up high on her hips. It only reminded me of the feeling of her soft skin beneath my palms. I clamped my mouth down tight as she walked past me. “I’ll see you around then.” “Yeah,” I replied dumbly as I walked towards the debris-laden road. “I’ll see you around.” When I heard her go in and put the locks in place, I allowed myself to think about what I let happened. So much for resistance. I had told myself that I wasn’t like the other fools. But not only had I fallen prey to the siren’s call that beckoned me, I’d fallen way further into the icy depths of hell. Never again, Dylan, I promised myself. I’d been through hell once already and the whiskey there was shit. I wasn’t willing to go back a second time. Not for any girl.
Ana Jolene is the author of the Glory MC series and the Contemporary Romance series, Moonrise Beach.
Growing up as a rebellious kid didn’t allow for much reading time. It wasn’t until she was in university that she found her passion for books and has since then devoured every book placed before her. Ana holds a B.A. in Psychology and has worked in both IT and Administration. But she’s had the most fun in the bookish world, working as a reviewer, columnist and assistant to multiple sites and authors. Ana currently lives in Toronto with her family and an extremely lazy Shih Tzu whom she adores. To learn more about Ana and her books, subscribe to the newsletter to be notified of the hottest new releases and giveaways! Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
The Origins of Benjamin Hackett
by Gerald M. O'Connor Genre: Coming Of Age
All families have secrets. Most go untold…
In the summer of ‘96, Benjamin Hackett has come of age, technically. And in the midst of the celebratory hangover, his world is whipped out from under his feet. His parents have finally shared their lifelong secret with him; he’s adopted. At the age of 18, the boy still has some growing up to do, and with the help of JJ, his loquacious consigliore and bodyguard, he embarks on an adventure that’ll put to bed a lifetime of lies. Over the course of five days, they find themselves caught up in the darker side of Cork. But when they sweep through the misfits blocking their way and finally discover the truth of it…now that’s the greatest shock of all. The Origins of Benjamin Hackett is a tender tale of heartache and displacement told through a wry and courageous voice. Set in Ireland, it’s a timely reminder that the world hasn’t moved on just as fast as we fancy. Now, in this emotionally charged story, Gerald M. O’Connor explores conditioned guilt and its consequences in a country still hiding from the sins of its past. O’Connor’s book draws on a time when the Catholic Church in Ireland would quietly take children from mothers in convents and Magdalene Laundries and deposit them into new homes, making it nearly impossible for these kids to find their real parents. Attempts by children to find their birth parents were often blocked by a dark web of secrecy and bureaucracy that, in many ways, still continues to haunt the country today. Brimming with unfathomable escapades, a motley crew of characters and a healthy serving of Irish humor, O’Connor’s book is steeped in Irish culture told in the inimitable Corkman’s brogue. Set in a time before the chaos of modern digital culture, The Origins of Benjamin Hackett takes a step back, allowing space for readers to escape and think about the realities of growing up in a family founded on a lie. In his stylish debut, O’Connor shows an amazing ability to paint heartbreak and longing that will keep readers thinking about The Origins of Benjamin Hackett long after they finish the story.
Life was lived in the quiet moments; all the rest was pure bluster. I was paraphrasing of course. I hadn’t the foggiest who’d said those words, or whether they were ever uttered out of the mouth of anyone at all, and if by happenstance they had it probably was more succinct. But the thought cropped up in my head then, watching my dad visibly stutter less than the width of a jab away from me.
“There’s no way in hell I’m adopted,” I said. “You are a bit.” “You can’t be a bit adopted.” Dad seemed to consider this for a moment, before shrugging and smiling wanly. “No…I suppose you can’t.” “This is a pile of unadulterated nonsense. You’re both having a laugh, right? Some twisted revenge for me not applying to college?” Dad reached inside his shirt pocket, pulled out a manila envelope and laid it on the table. “This,” he said, tapping it twice with his index finger, “contains your adoption certificate. We decided to keep calling you by your birth name, Benjamin. Seemed the correct thing to do at the time.” “Did it?” He held up his hand to hush me. “It’s the original document we received the day Father Brogan brought you here and made it all official.” He slid it over to me. “It’s yours now.” I picked up the envelope and tore it open, unfurling the paper inside and laying it flat on the table. My eyes skimmed over the document, flitting from word to word—adoption, adoptees, dates, signatures and the official diocesan insignia on the envelope. They were all there, all the bureaucratic paraphernalia of the state and church. I held his stare, neither of us flinching. “Am I really adopted?” “Yes.” My throat turned to dust. Call it the formality of the letter, or the way the word cut short on his breath. I thought of Mam’s delicate frame and barley-blonde hair. We looked nothing alike. But Dad? He was meant to be the exception. We both towered over her. We both had lanky frames. Hell, we even shared that same terrible torture of walking on long, flat feet that no shoe, no matter the cut or cobbler, could fit comfortably. Reams of memories of years gone by played on a loop in my head. “Sure, isn’t Benjamin the spit of his old man,” they’d said. “Dug from the same field, no doubt about it. Oh, he’s a Hackett all right, this fella.” And my parents had lapped it up. Like the time in Hay Street, in the bustle of market day, when they nodded in tacit agreement at some hunched-over old coot as she tousled my hair and told them how my curls were the carbon copy of Dad’s. “But we look alike?” I said. “Do we?” “You know we do.” He leaned in closer, dropped his voice to a whisper. “Truth is, we’ve been secretly dying your hair since you arrived. You’re actually ginger.” I shoved the table into him and threw my hands up. “Jokes? You think now is the time for messing about? For having a bit of a laugh?” “Sorry, sorry,” he said, showing his palms in surrender. “It just snuck out…but seriously, you’re not going to make a big deal of this, are you?” “And why shouldn’t I?” “Because it’s not what Hackett men do.” “Well, I’m clearly not one of them, now am I?” My comment flushed crimson high in his cheeks. He balled his hands twice and relaxed them flat on the table. “You’ve been long enough on the farm,” he said, quieter now. “Long enough to know that animals of all sorts adopt strays and nurture them as their own. And there’s not a blind bit of difference in them when they mature. Attitude is more in the rearing than the genes. You’re my son and a Hackett. Adopted or not.” “So you’re calling me a stray animal now? Christ, Dad, you’re some piece of work.” “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Don’t go all melodramatic on me now. We’ve enough histrionics happening outside already.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I think we’re allowed this one time to have a bit of a barney.” “Well, you’re not. No son of mine is going to throw a tantrum over something like this. Adoption happens all over the world, every day of the week. Just because you came out of another doesn’t mean we’re not your parents. And let me tell you this now. If I hear any of that sort of nonsense when your mother’s about I’ll—” “You’ll what?” “Ah, nothing.” He leaned back, folded his arms and studied his feet for a while. His standard move whenever his mood blackened. “You know,” he said after a while. “I never wanted to say anything. But your mam wouldn’t have it. Have you any idea how difficult it was for her to keep this a secret all this time?” “And if it was such a burden on you two, why didn’t you relieve yourselves of it sooner?” “Because we thought if you knew too soon it’d mark you, hang over you like a shadow looming large. Scar you for life. Father Brogan advised us to tell you early, but your mother thought it was best you didn’t know. She thought you’d settle better and handle it easier as an adult rather than a child. I don’t know…maybe we should have taken the priest’s advice and told you sooner?” He stroked his stubble and sighed. “It was bad enough you’d that birth mark on your face without lugging this around as well.” “Nice one, Dad,” I said, and instinctively I felt for the port-wine stain on my face. I couldn’t help myself. It was an old habit, hiding behind my veil of fingers and thumbs. “An Angel’s kiss” Mam had called it when I was finally tall enough to catch sight of myself in the mirror. Even at three years of age I knew it’d be a burden. Angel’s kiss was such a pile of nonsense. It was more like ten of them took turns to give me a six-inch hickey from cheek to chin. I stopped wearing camouflage since the age of twelve. No matter how you applied the green-tinted clay, it always came out a weird shade of vomit. “Okay so, Mister Automaton,” I said. “Tell me this, then…who are my real parents?” “Not a clue. All we know is what’s in that letter, and we never felt a need to find out more. Do you?” “Ah, I don’t know what I want to do with all this. I mean…who would? Springing it on me now after all these years with my head all over the shop.” “Well, if you do, Father Brogan’s your man. He knows all about this revelation today. I expect it wouldn’t be a surprise to him if you turned up there later.” He pushed up and away from the bench. “Right so, that’s that.” “Seriously? That’s all you’re going to give me?” “Well, as much as I’d like to stay and chat the farm won’t work itself. Fancy helping me spraying weeds in the paddock?” “What do you think?” “Suit yourself, then.” He buttoned his overalls, swung his arms into his mac and zipped it up to his neck. With a hand on the door handle, he inched it ajar, before turning around once more. “You know, Benjamin. We’ve farmed this patch of land for near on ten generations. And do you know what I’ve learned from the three decades I’ve held it together? Tides come and tides go. Every bit of sand laying on the beach below us today will be somewhere else entirely tomorrow. Nothing stays the same. All this is just noise, a glitch in your life. By tomorrow, or next week, or ten years down the line, today will be a distant memory to you. Hell, you’ll probably even laugh about it.” “I doubt that.” “Well, whatever your plans are from here, don’t go leaning on your mam too much. Do what you have to do, but do it gently.” He fixed his cap on his head and held a finger up as if he’d just remembered something. “Oh, and make sure to collect Ella from Nell’s before you trot away into the day. And get her home before the high tide. It’s a spring one and it’ll cut the road off. If Ella misses her lunch, there’ll be hell to pay.” I snorted. “And we can’t be having that.” “Nope. You’re right on that point,” he said, the trace of a smile brightening his face. “You see? We are alike after all.” Away up the yard he pottered, hands tucked into pockets, shoulders hunched forward, with a host of grey clouds looming above him. I raced upstairs and changed out of the flag into a plaid shirt and black denim jeans, and a whole load of questions kept buzzing about in my brain. One kept barging its way towards the front and trampling over the others. “What you gonna do, Benjamin?” it said, over and over again, mockingly. I looked through the attic window and spied Mam down in the yard with pegs clipped to her blouse and her sheets being harassed by the weather. She must have sensed me staring because she glanced up and immediately gestured me down. “You going out?” she asked, when I appeared. “I am. Going to pick up Ella from Nell’s.” “Thanks for doing that…” Her voice trailed off, and she turned away, and I knew she was lining up the sentences in her head. “And then?” She picked up a duvet cover and laid it across the line. “Then I’m going to see Father Brogan.” A peg fell from her grasp, and she kicked it away across the yard. “I thought you might.” She nodded over towards Dad. “Did he handle it okay? Explaining things, I mean.” “I suppose so.” “Any jokes?” I shrugged. “Just the one.” “Ah, I’ll wear him up the road—” “It was a pretty good one, though, in fairness.” “Still…” The wind stiffened. Wisps of hair slipped across her mouth. She tucked them back behind her ear, and her eyes met mine. She looked scared standing there and frailer than her years. “You won’t stop until you find them, will you?” I shook my head. “I’m the odd man out. I have to find out why.” And with that I turned on my heel and strode out of the farm and away from the people I thought were my family. The weather seemed to match my mood; a gale rose up and blew in my face. In the distance, the seas roared thunder. I stopped by Mosses Point and walked out to the ledge where the whole sweep of the coast stretched out beneath me. The isle of Inis Saor stood less than a mile from shore as a tall and immovable mule of rock. Normally, a quick glimpse of the place would take the breath clean out of my chest, pulling any bit of foul mood with it. Not today, though. For some unknown reason, I thought of Dad, of him leading me into the fields with my wellies two sizes too big and the chill of dawn biting at my skin. I remembered the shakes I’d felt, as I stood rooted to his side with one tiny hand clutched in his. The black-and-white giants plodding toward us with their teats swollen terrified me. “You have to be brave, Benjamin,” he’d said. “If they rush you, wave your hands, stand tall and make as much noise as humanly possible.” And I did. I was only five, but I’d waddled over to the nearest one with my boots sticking in the muck, and I’d barked until they clomped the ground with their hooves and shied away back down the farm. When I’d looked at Dad he’d this honest-to-God warmth to his smile that had me brim with happiness. “That’s my boy,” he’d said, like the big liar he was. All the frustration in me erupted. I opened my mouth wide and screamed into the winds until my throat ran hoarse. One thought played over in my head—I’ll find my rancid parents. And when I do, I’ll punch them square in their goddamn noses. And with the fire in me stoked up nicely, I cinched my shirt closed and headed up the road to Nell’s. Copyright © 2017 by Gerald M. O’Connor. Reprinted with permission of Down & Out Books.
The Origins of Benjamin Hackett takes place in your hometown of Cork, Ireland. For people who are not familiar with the region, what is it like and why did it become the perfect setting for your book?
The county of Cork is no small place. It is a big unwieldy organism that is almost impossible to pin down without living it. I would need a year to decipher it properly to do it justice, but even then I fear I would fail miserably. But you did ask, and so I will try. First a few fun facts: Cork is known as the rebel county. The Irish for Cork is Corcaigh translated as “marsh” as it began life on a swampy estuary. We are best known for Murphy’s stout, All-Ireland winning teams, a glorious coastline, a rich vibrant history and our bullet-speed wit. As with all populated areas, there are the good and the bad parts. The locals can swindle or charm you on the whim of the weather, but at the heart of Cork is its inimitable character. It has the layers and complexities of an urban area with solid rural roots. It has been the center of rebellion and republicanism for centuries. It was the only place in Ireland the English could never truly tame. It is surrounded by the Atlantic sea and has some of the sandiest beaches you will see the world over. Some say God gave us foul weather to counterbalance the beauty. And I’m fine with that, as it keeps the fair-weather types away! I firmly believe there is no better place to be than down at Barley Cove beach when the summer is at full-throttle, and the sun decides to shine. At the heart of Cork are the locals, or Corkonians as we call ourselves. We are a fiercely loyal, bitingly bright and determined people. I have never been in any other city where I have felt that same burning sense of belonging than when I lived in Cork. If you are from there, you will recognize the words I am saying as unadulterated facts. If not, the county may sound like some Fenian stronghold that still thinks the War of Independence rages. In our hearts and minds, we are unique, abandoned by those up in Dublin, constantly fighting for our share of the pie, stuck at the bottom of an island that’s barraged by sleet and rain. We are often negated or chastised as insular or bull-headed, but we do not give a damn. Because we are proud of that community mind, the hive mentality. If you ever come across a Cork man or woman anywhere in the world, in any walk of life, I can wholeheartedly say that not a single one will talk with anything but fondness for the county at the southern tip of Ireland. I do not imagine there is a better plaudit than that as proof of our county’s effect on its natives. I set the novel in Cork for various reasons. First, I know it better than any other part of the world, so it was natural for me to use it as a setting. And second of all, despite us having a host of fantastic writers from our city—Seán Ó Faoláin, Frank O’Connor and Joseph O’Neill to name but a few—there is a real lack of recent Cork-based Irish literature in comparison to other parts of Ireland. I hope my writing this novel may have righted those scales a bit. But predominantly I focused it on Cork because of the lilt of the locals, the characters I have met and known throughout my life, and the sheer breath-taking beauty of its landscapes and surrounds. To use the old adage, I wrote what I know, and I know Cork. What inspired you to write a coming-of-age novel? Did your own childhood influence your characterizations of Benjamin or JJ? I have always been drawn to these type of tales. In many ways, that period in your life, when you are on the cusp of adulthood with all the hormones and fears of the future spinning your head into glue, can be the most traumatic of our lives. Having something that upends your sense of self is almost always a shortcut to figuring out the convoluted mess of life. If stories are all about trouble inducing change, I can think of no greater contrast in character than the growth from child to adult. Setting a story in this borderland of life always seems to be fertile ground for wild adventures. You can never get away with the same level of naivety, or ill-considered actions, in someone other than a youngster. Rip their idealized life apart and the reaction is nearly always bedlam. I wanted the freedom to write a story fueled by the white hot rage of teenagers. The coming-of-age adventure story allowed me to do so without the rigid logic of maturity stifling the madness. As to whether or not my own childhood influenced the characterization of Benjamin and JJ… in truth, I am not too sure. I know I did not consciously draw the characters from my life growing up in Blarney. I was not adopted, nor did I know anyone who was. I had a large group of friends from the estate and village where I lived, but none bear any true resemblance to these characters. But we are the sum of our experiences, and my childhood clearly influenced me in my life, so there must be some subconscious part of me that comes out in those two lads. If it is not in their stories then it is most likely in their camaraderie and kinship and general outlook on life. I had a fantastic close-knit crew, still do to this day in fact, and it would not surprise me if they saw threads of themselves in the characters on the page. But rest assured, if they do, it is by pure happenstance rather than design. Your book tackles some serious topics, including the main character’s quest to find his birth mother, but you eloquently infuse the story with a bit of humor. How would you describe your sense of humor, and how does it play a role in your novel? As with most of my fellow countrymen, my sense of humor is severely grounded in self-deprecation first and foremost. I do not think anyone could survive growing up in any parish in Cork without having that quality ingrained into you. We use humor as a shield in Ireland, hiding our fears and insecurities behind it, and as a weapon to bludgeon anyone with notions (people with an inflated opinion of themselves). It is like a code in its own right, nuanced, secretive and governed by rules only understood by those who grew up there. Cork is a county dripping in good-humored mockery. And nothing is sacred. Everyone and everything is a potential target. Sometimes we go too far, of course, and the line between genuine comedy and thinly-veiled insults becomes this shady, intangible thing defined by the mood of the person on the receiving end. But on the whole, we manage to strike the balance just right. The general rule is this—if you ever find yourself on the sharper end of our tongues, then you probably deserve it. For the uninitiated arriving in Cork, though, be warned. You had better do so fully-armed for banter. We slag and hop the ball, mock and deride, and there is nothing in the entire world that can savage your ego faster than a quick one-liner from a Cork-born native who is in the mood for badness. And God help you if they know you, because they will have total knowledge of all your weak spots and will package their goading up into perfect bullet-shaped assassins and riddle you senseless. If I ever get too big for my boots, all I have to do is pop down to my local, and I’ll be righted within the hour. So as you can probably imagine, comedy is not a construct or a style choice used for any particular reason in my novel. It is there simply because that is how we behave in Cork. I could never have written a story set in my homeland without infusing that quality into it. It would have been dishonest to my roots. Over the course of their road trip, how do Benjamin and JJ develop as characters? To answer this truthfully would force me to spoil a lot of the surprises. So I am reluctant to go into too much detail. Suffice it to say, at the start they are at sea in life, unsure of what they want to do, as is the fate of many teenagers the world over. JJ is the straight-man in many ways, loyal to a fault and a lot more emotionally balanced than Benjamin. There is not too much in the way of change for him from beginning to end. Benjamin, though, goes through a large evolution in character. He does not cure himself completely, as he is still naïve and reckless by the end. But his reaction to the adoption and his ultimate decision at the close of the book shows how he has matured from a boy to a man and begins to see the world through adult eyes. It is the natural arc for a tale like this, really. How does the history of adoption in Ireland play a role in this story? Adoption plays a massive part. Benjamin’s story solely exists because of him being secretly deposited into a new family without the knowledge of his birth mother. The history of adoption in Ireland is a sore point and still very current. In the mid-20th century having a baby out of wedlock in Ireland was culturally unacceptable and would result in rejection by family, friends and society in general. The stigma was so bad that many unmarried women would be sent away to convents and Mother and Home facilities run by the church and funded by the government. For example, in 1967 over 97% of all children born out of wedlock were adopted and the vast majority were done without the full knowledge and consent of the mother. I did an almighty amount of research into it while writing this novel. It is funny in a way, because there’s barely the thread of the facts I uncovered in the book. I think you could have a lifetime of material if you researched the stories hidden behind the doors of those convents and Mother and Baby homes. What can you tell us about your next book, The Tanist? My new book is a world apart from this one. It is a thriller set in a turbulent Celtic world, drawing on the folklore and myths of the early 14th century in Ireland. I cannot divulge too much as I am in the midst of finishing the first draft, and a lot may change by the time I have a polished product ready for publication. But The Tanist is a far darker novel, devoid of humor and set in a violent and unforgiving time. The tag line goes something like this: “Unjustly banished for murder, an innocent boy must survive three impossible tests in a foreign land, before his city is destroyed, his people enslaved and his freedom lost forever.”
GERALD M. O’CONNOR is a native Corkonian, currently living in Dublin with his long-term partner, Rosemarie, along with their three children. He writes character-driven novels of various genres by night and is a dentist by day. When he isn’t glued to the keyboard, he enjoys sci-fi films, spending time with his family and being anywhere in sight of the sea. He is currently working on his second novel, The Tanist.
TWITTER FACEBOOK WEBSITE GOODREADS
by Lucy Farago
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Pub Date: 7/27/2017
The Investigative Collection Unit is one of the world’s most renowned agencies, solving cases with—or without—the law on its side. And the Unit’s men are special agents in more ways than one, with secrets that can make or break them—and the hearts of those who fall for them . . .
He’s known only as Cowboy. A successful rodeo star with a string of women behind him, the ICU has given him a chance to stay put instead of constantly running away—from the past, from love, from the blood on his hands. And he’s not going to screw that up, even if it means going back home to Texas to investigate the disappearance of the woman who made him start running in the first place . . .
The political exposé of a popular senator should have been Grace Irvine’s story, but she thought it would be good for her best friend Jessie’s career. Now, Jessie is missing and Grace will do anything to find her. But her path keeps crossing with a mysterious and charismatic cowboy who has his own reasons for finding Jessie. And as intrigue draws Grace and Cowboy deeper into danger, passion starts to play by its own rules—making promises it might not be able to keep . . .
Lucy Farago knows there is nothing like a happy sigh at the end of a good book. With the encouragement of her loving husband, she wrote her first manuscript. An unpublished historical, it sits in a file on her computer, there to remind her how much fun she had learning the craft and becoming part of an industry whose books make you believe anything is possible. A big fan of Agatha Christie, she set out to write her first romantic suspense novel. Thrilled to be a published author, Lucy also teaches yoga, enjoys cooking, and saying what other people are thinking. In her fantasy world, her beautiful Siberian husky, Loki, doesn’t shed and her three kids clean up after themselves . Alas, that fantasy will never see fruition.
When Kathryn James was a little girl she wished for true love in the fairy dust that resides in each ray of light. Now as an adult, she only finds pain and neglect from the ones who are supposed to love her.
After she escapes a two year long torture, she proceeds cross country to start a new life. She attempts a life without fear, a life without pain, and possibly a life with love. While upon her journey, Katey will meet people who teach her lessons on love, however Jaz Carter will teach her the most important lesson of all. Will she be brave enough to follow Jaz on his unorthodox path or will fear keep her from the things she wants most? Will Katey hide away from the world or will she learn to Just Live? **Be advised some scenes contain graphic violence and adult situations**
Entering the store, I saw all types of people. People here weren't that much different than in New York, I expected show girls and gangsters lining the aisles with carts full of slot machines and roulette wheels.
Finding the women's section happened without difficulty, but finding something I would wear became a chore. Everything here had flashy designs or it the words Las Vegas sprawled across the front. After about a half-hour of searching, I found a pale-yellow sundress with periwinkle blue flowers adorning the fabric. The simplicity made it pretty, like how I wanted him to see me. I didn't want to be a complication for him. I wanted to be a positive part of his life. I shook my head realizing that these thoughts were about someone that I had only known for a few days, but something told me that if I allowed it; I would know him forever. I placed the dress in the cart and moved toward the beauty aisles. On the way to find the cosmetics aisle, I passed a row of contraceptives. Hmm... should I grab condoms? Was I ready for that? Then that voice spoke up. Well your planning on moving in with the guy, it wouldn't be a bad idea to be prepared. Well at least this time the voice made sense. So, I decided that I should take a gander. Oh, my goodness! I had so many choices. Ribbed. Latex. Non-latex. Flavored. Glow-in-the-dark. For his pleasure. For her pleasure. Well, what the hell; this was too much. I didn't know what to get. What size? I began to think that this wasn't such a grand idea. When a familiar voice brought me out of my confusion, "What are you doing there, Bug?" Oh shit! Of course, he saw me. I exhaled the tension through my lips in a huff and let the mortification take over. I felt hot everywhere. I knew that I was as red as a tomato. I turned my eyes afraid to see that cocky smirk don his lips, when he continued "Anything I can help you with?" I tilted my head up to see his eyes finding them well rested and a bright sea green. He must've been feeling better. "You know, I looked for the shampoo aisle and must've gotten turned around." I lied. He nodded, but it was obvious that he didn't believe me for one second. "Oh, yeah I can see how'd you'd get messed up. These bottles of strawberry lube looked like shampoo. Makes complete sense" he beguiled. "Okay, so I need shampoo. You want to come with?" He turned to me grabbing my hand, calming my nerves, and bringing me peace. "Nah, I have a few things to grab myself. Meet me in the car?" he said with his throaty voice. "Sure, that's sounds like a plan." I leaned in placing a quick kiss to his cheek leaving him in the aisle. Oh, my God. I couldn't believe he caught me in the condom aisle.
Shaan Ranae is an Ohio native who brings a small taste of her home state to each story. She's happily married with two amazing children.
She found her love of romance after reading a very popular romance series. After that she was addicted, a self-proclaimed romance book junkie. Her love for the written word has grown and with that love so has her writing style. Facebook Twitter Website Goodreads
DEAD STORAGE
by Mary Feliz
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Pub Date: 7/18/2017
As a professional organizer, Maggie McDonald brings order to messy situations. But when a good friend becomes a murder suspect, surviving the chaos is one tall task . . .
Despite a looming deadline, Maggie thinks she has what it takes to help friends Jason and Stephen unclutter their large Victorian in time for its scheduled renovation. But before she can fill a single bin with unused junk, Jason leaves for Texas on an emergency business trip, Stephen’s injured mastiff limps home—and Stephen himself lands in jail for murder. Someone killed the owner of a local Chinese restaurant and stuffed him in the freezer. Stephen, caught at the crime scene covered in blood, is the number one suspect. Now Maggie must devise a strategy to sort through secrets and set him free—before she’s tossed into permanent storage next . . .
Mary Feliz, author of the Maggie McDonald Mystery series, has lived in five states and two countries. Traveling to other locations, she’s discovered that what seems normal in the high-tech heartland can seem decidedly odd to the rest of the country. A big fan of irony, serendipity, diversity, and quirky intelligence tempered with gentle humor, Mary strives to bring these elements into her writing, although her characters tend to take these elements to a whole new level. She’s a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and National Association of Professional Organizers. Mary is a Smith College graduate with a degree in Sociology. She lives in Northern California with her husband, near the homes of their two adult offspring.
The Eyewitness
By Nancy Weeks
Genre: Mystery, Crime Thriller, Romance
Fans of TV’s Blue Bloods will love this dynamic new suspense series.
Maryland PD forensic scientist Emersyn D’Azzo has an explosive past with her father’s younger, sexy partner, Detective Alec Pearce. Then an ill-timed kiss destroys the thin line of trust between her and her dad, just before tragedy strikes and someone guns down her father.
The fatal bullet turns out to be tied to the ongoing spree of random sniper kills across the state, but Emersyn knows this wasn’t a random act of violence and is determined to find the killer.
To do so, she’ll need to rely on help from Alec, whom she doesn’t quite trust but just can’t resist. When they discover a connection to a decades-old disappearance of a college student, their investigation takes a deadly twist. Can they learn to trust each other with their hearts to save their lives?
Ted edged in closer. “You can take a few moments for one dance.” He eyed Tessa. “You don’t mind if I borrow your sister, do you?”
“But I do.”
The deep, masculine voice sent an arousing jolt right into Emersyn’s core. And damn it to hell, her mouth went dry, making it impossible to swallow. She fingered her straw then took a deep drink. This time she welcomed the burning chill against her lungs. Detective Alec Pearce had a knack for showing up at her worst moments. Why the hell was he here?
Ted moved away from her as if he’d been burned. “Alec, good to see you.”
“You do know you’re hitting on my partner’s daughter, right, Ted?”
“Just asking her for a dance.”
Emersyn glanced between the two; she actually preferred Ted’s company to the man who seemed to go out of his way to make her crazy.
Alec reached for her hand and set it in his palm. “Actually, she promised this dance to me. They’re playing our song.”
The muscles in her body tensed as her fingernails dug into his skin. “I don’t—”
“Music is on, Em. Shall we?” His other hand went around her waist, and he gave her a swift yank.
“Jerkball, let go,” she hissed in his ear.
His grip tightened. “It’s just one dance. Play nice.”
Alec escorted Emersyn to the small dance floor near the bandstand. Every instinct in her wanted to slap his arrogant expression right into next week, but that would make a scene. It was what half the bar expected the instant he got within striking distance. They were all waiting for her to let loose. But this was a new day, a new diploma, new job, new Emersyn. Emotions in check.
“My name is Emersyn. I would think you would remember something so simple.”
Alec’s face lit with a grin as his arms brought her close and their bodies began to move to the music. She shot a glare at Tessa, pleading for her to do something. Instead, her sister, the traitor, took another sip of Emersyn’s drink, lifted it in a toast, and rotated in her seat.
A chuckle came from deep in Alec’s throat. “Tessa likes me. You can thank me now.”
“I can also knee you where the sun doesn’t shine.”
He lifted her chin with his thumb. “Now that wasn’t nice. I sacrificed a night with that blonde”—he nodded to a beautiful woman sitting at the end of the bar—“just to keep Lecher Ted from hitting on you … again.”
“What makes you think I needed rescuing?”
“Oh please, Tessa, make the creep go away. I’m ever so sweet and don’t want to hurt the poor jerk’s feelings.”
She yanked out of Alec’s hold, but he was ready and moved her back into his arms without missing a beat.
“Relax. I’m teasing.”
“You are such an ass.”
His lips brushed over her ear. “Enjoy our moment, Em.”
Impossible. They had more layers of misunderstanding between them than her mother’s chocolate cake, heated words that couldn’t be unheard and arguments with no closure.
After her father had mentioned at dinner that Alec was joining them for dessert, she’d jumped at Tessa’s offer to buy her a drink at the tavern. It was the perfect place to hide out. A lone wolf like Alec wouldn’t be caught dead in the crowded, noisy bar. But here he was. She’d run but not far enough.
“I’m sorry I missed your graduation ceremony, but I have a little something for you,” he whispered.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I’m proud of you.”
The words sounded so genuine. “Dad seems resigned to the idea of me at least working alongside cops, if not as a cop.”
“Joe doesn’t want you anywhere near the job. But you found a way around that. Instead of crawling in the gutter looking for the worst mankind has to offer, you’re picking through what they left behind.”
She halted in the middle of the dance floor. “You think that’s why I became a forensic scientist?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
The music stopped, and they stood still, glaring at each other. Our thing. “I can’t do this tonight,” she said, dropping her hand to her sides. “Thanks.”
“For?”
“Saving me from another go-around with Ted.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
“I can take care of myself.”
For once, there was no comeback. Instead, he eased her against him and tucked her hand over his heart. “Dance with me, Emersyn.”
That sexy, got-to-have-you-now voice was back, and her other four senses came out to play. Being close to Alec Pearce, taking in his spicy, clean soap scent, feeling the strength of his arms around her wasn’t an awful feeling. Confusing? Hell yes, but her body sure enjoyed it. It’s just a dance, right?
She lowered one hand to his hip and brought the other around his neck, her cheek resting against his. Alec tightened his grip around her waist as he spun them around the dance floor. The move put their bodies in sync, and there was no mistaking the effect she had on him. Her lips brushed against his skin, sending shock waves through her.
He sucked in a breath and tilted his head. Their gazes held for what seemed like an eternity. He was so damn gorgeous, his deep brown eyes with a hint of gold, lush lashes, and a dusting of five-o’clock shadow on his square jaw that she ached to feel rubbed against all her soft places. As if he read her mind, his mouth caressed her bottom lip. He waited, expecting her to pull back. Need took over, and she lost her mind.
Nancy C. Weeks has loved happy-ever-after romances since her early teens. While still in college, she met and married her hero. She spent the next several years honeymooning and working overseas. Today, she lives in suburban Maryland with her husband of more than thirty years. With her two grown children out of the nest, she enjoys spending her days writing suspenseful happily-ever-after adventures outside on the deck as the local bird population keeps her company. When she is not writing, Nancy loves to blog about fascinating people, both real and fictional. The one quote that kept her dream alive:
Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up. ~Thomas Edison~
Payne Protection's latest hire has a secret agenda…but his heart keeps getting in the way!
Digital security specialist Nikki Payne is eager to prove herself. So when former marine Lars Ecklund asks for her help in tracking down his sister, Nikki happily volunteers her services. But she doesn't anticipate falling for her role as nanny and bodyguard to a baby they're protecting…or uncovering a raging hunger for guarded Lars. To find out what happened to his sibling, Lars must get into a fortified mansion at any cost and track down an elusive lawyer. But his fierce desire for Nikki is complicating everything. Putting the stunning spitfire in danger doesn't sit easily with him, yet he has no choice if he's to reclaim his sister—or create a future with this new family.
Oh, how I wanted to love this story and Nikki Payne's chance to working in the security instead of with them, and not to mention her chance to find her perfect mate and fall in love.
The plot was well thought out, it had twists and turns, it had a chance for the relationship development and the action, the suspense was escalating and the intensity high on both fronts. I also liked the main characters, Nikki Payne and Lars Ecklund. Nikki had always lived in the shadow of her brothers. Her life dream had been to be included not to protected. She wanted to be as bad ass as her brothers were, and that desire seemed to have come to the point that she spent most of her time whining about her brothers and over reacting to every move possible to be considered as a protective one. She didn't want a relationship because she didn't trust a man wouldn't treat her like her dad treated her mom. Lars, the big, tall, blond Viking was looking for revenge. During his last military deployment, his sister had disappeared, and the last known person to talk to her was the sleazy adoption lawyer, the Payne Protection's new client. To find out what happened to his sister went over his loyalty to his marine brothers, his willingness to find his sisters destiny the only thing driving him forward. I liked how Lars' vulnerability and dedication to his sister were shown in the story. He was a good man, yet a little lost at the moment with grief and worry. There were many elements in the story that I liked and found entertaining. I kind of wish the first half of the story would have been revised since it was a merry-go-round of who can trust whom, who is professional enough to handle what, who is tough enough to do the job, who is the boss, and who could we trust again, who was brother to whom, and who was getting married to who, and it just went around and around for the first 50% of the book. The story had several points of views, and there was no rhyme or reason of the timing of who gets to tell their point of view in the tale, or a clear mark when the storyteller changed. Stopping and going back to check what did I miss now, who is this person talking and why was there the change of point of view broke the natural flow of the story and sadly my enjoyment as well. Basically, the story needed a good dose of tough love editing, and since I read an eARC, not sure if that was fixed in the final copy. Because there's so much potential in the story, both in the suspense and the romance side of it - with the plot, with the characters, the power struggles in the family, the visit with the previous characters in the series - but somehow it all was left under the clutter, and I found myself mostly frustrated instead of enjoying the read. Yes, it is a good story with charming characters who come from a family with lots of love. They sincerely care for each other and want to protect each other and the world, they have a passion for what they do and it shows in their success. But unfortunately, most of the enjoyment in the story was impaired by technicalities. ~ Three Spoons
My Fair Duchess
Dukes Behaving Badly #5 By: Megan Frampton Releasing February 28, 2017 Avon Books
In Megan Frampton's most recent installment of The Dukes Behaving Badly series, an unexpected duchess proves that behaving badly isn't exclusive to the Dukedom.
The Unexpected Duchess Archibald Salisbury, son of a viscount, war hero, and proficient in the proper ways of aristocratic society, has received orders for his most challenging mission: Genevieve, Duchess of Blakesley. How she inherited a duchy isn’t his problem. Turning her into a perfect duchess is. But how can he keep his mind on business when her beauty entices him toward pleasure? It was impossible, unprecedented…and undeniably true. Genevieve is now a “duke”, or, rather, a duchess. So what is she to do when the ton eyes her every move, hoping she’ll make a mistake? Genevieve knows she has brains and has sometimes been told she has beauty, but, out of her depth, she calls on an expert. And what an expert, with shoulders broad enough to lean on, and a wit that matches her own. Archie is supposed to teach her to be a lady and run her estate, but what she really wants to do is unladylike—run into his arms. 1845, Lady Sophia’s Drawing Room “There’s only one solution,” Lady Sophia said, passing the letter to Archie as he felt his stomach drop. And his carefully ordered life teeter on the verge of change. “You’ll have to go to London to sort my goddaughter out.” She embellished her point by squeezing her tiny dog Truffles, who emitted a squeak and glared at Archie. As if it was his fault. He resisted the urge to crumple the paper in his hand. “But the festival is in a few weeks,” Archie said, hearing the desperate tone in his voice. He did not want to ever return to London. That was the purpose of taking a position out here in the country after leaving the Queen’s Own Hussars a year prior. His family was there, and his father, at least, had made it clear he never wanted to see him again. What’s more, he did not want to assist a helpless aristocrat in some sort of desperate attempt to bring order to their lives. Even though that was what he was doing in Lady Sophia’s employ. But working for her had come to have its own kind of satisfactory order, one he did not want to disrupt. “There is work to be done,” Archie continued, hoping to appeal to his employer’s sensible side. Although in the course of working for her he had come to realize his employer didn’t really have a sensible side, so what was he hoping to accomplish? “Didn’t you tell me Mr. McCready could do everything you could?” Lady Sophia asked. “You pointed out that if you were to get ill, or busy with other matters, your assistant steward could handle things just as well as you.” That was when I was trying to get one of my men work, Archie thought in frustration. To help him get back on his feet after the rigors of war. And Bob had proven himself to be a remarkably able assistant, allowing Archie to dive into Lady Sophia’s woefully neglected accounts and see into her investments, neither of which she paid any attention to. Lady Sophia placed Truffles on the rug before lifting her head to look at Archie. Who knew, in that moment, that he was doomed. Doomed to return to London to help out a likely far-too- indulged female in the very difficult position of being a powerful and wealthy aristocrat. Perhaps it would have been easier to just get shot on the battlefield. It certainly would have been quicker. “It’s settled.” She punctuated her words with a nod of her head, sending a few gray curls flying in the air. “You will go see to the new duchess and take care of her as ably as you do me. Mr. Mc-Cready will assist me while you are away.” Archie looked at the letter again. “This duchess is your relative?” he asked. That would explain the new duchess’s equally silly mode of communication. An “unexpected duchess,” indeed. What kind of idiot wouldn’t have foreseen this circumstance? And done something to prepare for it? “She calls me aunt, but she is not my actual niece, you understand,” Lady Sophia explained. “She is my goddaughter; her mother married the duke, the duchess’s father. It is quite unusual for a woman to inherit the duchy.” “Quite,” Archie echoed. “But it happened, somehow, and since I don’t know anything about being a duchess . . .” Because I do? Archie wondered. But there wasn’t anybody else. She wouldn’t have asked Lady Sophia, of all people, unless there was nobody else. Or if she was as flighty and confident as her faux-aunt. A scenario that seemed more and more likely. “The only thing Mr. McCready can’t do is attract as much feminine interest as you do, Mr. Salisbury.” She sat back up and regarded him. “Which might make him more productive,” she added. She leaned over to offer Truffles the end of her biscuit. Archie opened his mouth to object, but closed it when he realized she was right. He wasn’t vain, but he did recognize that ladies tended to find his appearance attractive. Lady Sophia received many more visitors, she’d told him in an irritated tone, now that he’d been hired. Bob, damn his eyes, smirked knowingly every time Archie was summoned to Lady Sophia’s drawing room to answer yet another question about estate management posed by a lady who’d likely never had such a question in her life. Archie responded by making Bob personally in charge of the fertilizer. It didn’t stop Bob’s smirking, but it did make Archie feel better. “And you will return in a month’s time so you can be here for the festival.” “Sooner if I can, my lady.” If this duchess needed more time than a month, there would be no hope for her anyway. Country life suited him; he liked its quiet and regularity. It was a vast change from life in battle, or even being just on duty, but it was far more interesting than being the third son from a viscount’s family. A viscount who disowned his third boy when said boy was determined to join the army. Meanwhile, however, he had to pack to head off to a new kind of battle—that of preparing a completely unprepared woman, likely a woman as flighty and often confused as Lady Sophia, to hold a position that she was entirely unsuited for. Very much like working with raw recruits, in fact.
Megan Frampton writes historical romance under her own name and romantic women’s fiction as Megan Caldwell. She likes the color black, gin, dark-haired British men, and huge earrings, not in that order. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her husband and son. You can visit her on her website, @meganf, and at Facebook.
Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
Trouble has come back to town, and this time, he's not leaving without her
In the nine years since Trask Beaumont left Gilt Edge, Lillian Cahill had convinced herself she was over him. But when the rugged cowboy suddenly walks into her bar, there's a pang in her heart that argues the attraction never faded. And that's dangerous, because Trask has returned on a mission to clear his name and win Lillie back. Trask gets the showdown he's after when his boss's body is recovered from a burning house. Hawk, Lillie's marshal brother, believes Trask's homecoming isn't coincidental to the murder, but Lillie isn't so sure. Something is urging her to give bad boy Trask a second chance, even if it leaves her torn between her family and the man she never stopped loving. Sheriff Flint Cahill didn’t even bother to look up as the door to his office banged open first thing the next morning. “Seriously?” his sister, Lillie, demanded as she strode to his desk. “You arrested our father again?” Hands on her hips, she glared at him with narrowed gray eyes from a face that could only be described as adorable—even when furious. He sighed. “What would you have me do? Ely was drunk and disorderly. Again. Anyone else who behaves the way he does gets thrown in the slammer.” “He’s not just anyone else.” “No, he’s not. Did I fail to mention he resisted arrest? Deputy Harper is sporting a shiner this morning.” “I’ve wanted to slug Harp a few times myself,” Lillie said, looking toward the cell block as if the deputy was the last person she wanted to see this morning. “I hope you brought Ely some clean clothes. He…soiled himself.” “You’d piss yourself too if you saw what I did,” his father called from his cell down the hallway. “Nothing’s wrong with his hearing, anyway,” Flint muttered under his breath as Lillie set a large brown paper bag with the clothing in it on his desk. “Nothing’s wrong with his mind, either!” Ely called back. Flint shook his head and lowered his voice. “You know, Lillie, you don’t have to be the one to bail him out all the time. You could send one of our brothers to do the dirty work.” She said nothing as Deputy Harper Cole came in as if on cue. She gave him a disinterested nod. He eyed her with his one good eye, the one that wasn’t swollen shut. Lillie, clad in a pink T-shirt, worn jeans and sandals, had her long, curly dark hair pulled up in a ponytail. “Mornin’, Lillie. You’re looking fine.” “Harp, please take these to Ely and make sure he changes,” Flint said, holding out the bag to his deputy before Lillie gave the man another black eye. Messing with this particular Cahill would be a huge mistake. Lillie had grown up with five older brothers. She could hold her own and Flint didn’t want to have to arrest her too. He could tell his sister was fired up and wondered if it was only about Ely’s arrest or if there was more going on with her. He would have asked, but when she was in this mood, questioning her would be like poking a porcupine with a short stick.
B.J. Daniels' life dream was to be a policewoman. After a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist, she wrote and sold 37 short stories before she finally wrote her first book. Since then she has won numerous awards including a career achievement award last year for romantic suspense.
She lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, two Springer Spaniels, Jem and Spot, and a temperamental tomcat named Jeff. When she isn't writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Connect with B. J. Daniels Website | Facebook | Twitter |