Beyond the Cogs: A Steampunk Anthology C. Vonzale Lewis, Elle Beaumont, Nicholas J. Evans Published by: Midnight Tide Publishing Publication date: November 17th 2021 Genres: Adult, Steampunk
When a world is reimagined…
This anthology contains three impeccable steampunk stories. Ranging from the gritty tale of battling a creature who steals the souls of others, to dabbling in the taboo art of imbuing a human soul into an automaton, and even a man venturing back home only to discover he’s been demonized.
The Soulless Ones by C. Vonzale Lewis
The Rogue of Vangard by Nicholas J. Evans
Gossamer & Thorns by Elle Beaumont
For those who love adventure in new worlds, gritty stories, and heart-wrenching tales, this collection is sure to resonate with you!
Christmas in Smithville Kirsten Fullmer (Hometown, #4) Publication date: November 30th 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance
Even though Gloria is determined to change her reputation, most of the women in town still think she’s a tramp. Sure, she may have dressed a little flashy and dated pretty much every single guy in town, but that’s the past. Now that she wants to make a fresh start, will Smithville give her a second chance?
Ned has heard all the gossip, but being the Sheriff’s Deputy, he sees all the kind things Gloria does behind the scenes for the folks of Smithville. It looks like the upcoming Christmas Pageant will offer him the opportunity to spend time with her, but can he overcome a frustrating stutter and talk to her, face to face?
Your favorite characters from the Hometown Series bring craziness, love, and Smithville Christmas style, to a whole new romance about overcoming your past and sharing your deepest secrets. Fall in love and be swept away with the Christmas Eve celebration of your dreams.
“Then I just had to wr—wrap the baby up and hand her to her mother,” Ned said as he dropped his paint roller in the bucket of hot water.
Gloria stared at him, her eyes wide in fascination. “I can’t believe you delivered a baby by the side of the road. I don’t think I could have—”
“Sure you could,” he said with a shrug. “When the time comes and work needs doing, folks like us st—step up.”
Unsure, she scoffed. “Well, baking a casserole is one thing, but—”
Ned reached out to take her paint roller. “Yeah, okay, the baby was kind of a big deal,” he conceded, “Usually, I just end up learning w—way more about people than I want to know.”
“I understand that.” Gloria nodded. “Given my past, I know—” She stopped, realizing what she was saying. “Of course, I’ve forgotten all about those guys…” She faltered, her words fading away and her cheeks burning red under her freckles.
Ned’s laughter rang out into the workshop. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t know which guys in town burp at the table, who is connected at the hip to their momma, or who snores—” The words chopped off and it was his turn to blush. “I… I d—didn’t mean… I—I w—wasn’t…” His stutter always got much worse when he was upset. Frustrated, he stopped talking and turned back to the water bucket.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Gloria said, feeling bad for him. “It’s true though, especially with your job. What do you do when you meet someone on the street, and you know intimate details about their personal life?” She waited, but he just pumped the paint rollers up and down in the water, so she tried again. “I’m asking for advice, honest. Do they train you on this stuff at the police academy?”
He shrugged, then straightened and shoved one hand in the front pocket of his jeans. “Well we have to t—take ethics classes, but—” he looked up, making eye contact, “no, they don’t tell you that stuff. You just h—have to act like you weren’t at their house two n—nights ago with the fire chief, helping them get their hand unstuck from the k—kitchen drain they were trying to fix.”
Her eyes widened, and she chuckled in surprise. “Who? No, no don’t tell me.”
He shook his head; his hand raised to stop her. “I wouldn’t,” he said, but his eyes were bright with humor. “It’s a th—thing you have to learn to do I guess. I know you’re g—good at it, I’ve seen you in action.”
She shrugged modestly. “Oh, well, I just try to put myself in their place.”
They were both quiet for a minute, contemplating all the dirt they’d collectively compiled on the people of Smithville.
“Yeah, ” she continued with a sparkle in her eye. “Because if I were a great big guy, I wouldn’t want everyone to know that I scream like a little girl when I see a spider.”
Ned’s eyebrows rose, and a big grin spread across his face. “Now I have to wonder…”
“It will go with me to the grave,” she assured him, looking solemn. But she couldn’t help it and broke into laughter. “Oh my gosh, it was the funniest thing. I thought he was going to run away, but he kept screaming for me to ‘get it’. Of course, I was far too busy laughing and taking video.”
He chuckled, enjoying the way her eyes shone when she was happy. Her laughter was like music, and her cheeks turned rosy with happiness. His own heart swelled, catching him off guard. “You’re a mean one, aren’t you,” he teased.
“Me?” she asked, with her hand on her chest. “No, no, I finally took pity on him and smashed the bug.”
“Well that’s good,” he said, wishing he could make her laugh like that all the time.
“Anyway,” she trailed off, “I better get moving. I have a ton of sewing to do.”
“I wish I could help you with th—that,” he said, collecting the butcher paper he’d spread for them to paint. “But I have no idea how to even thread a needle.”
Her head tilted to one side. “I doubt that.”
“Okay, okay,” he relented, crumpling the paper to stuff it in the trashcan. “I can thread a n—needle, but choir robes and sh—shepherd costumes are way beyond my scope.”
She waved him off. “Oh, these are pretty simple. I figure they’re for one night and no one will really see them up close.”
“True.”
“Except…”
He waited for her to continue, watching her think, wishing he could hear what was on her mind.
“Well, it’s just,” She chuckled. “Practically every family in town has someone in this thing, so I guess in reality, everyone will see them up close.”
“Right?” he laughed. “I wonder sometimes, who is going to watch the show.”
“Me too!” she agreed. “We may need to set up a bus service to bring folks from Uniontown.”
He rubbed his chin. “Not a bad idea.”
She reveled in the shared moment, then turned away, looking for her purse. “Well, I’d better get going.”
“Thanks for the help,” he said, wishing he knew how to make her stay. “ Do you have to go?”
The question froze Gloria in her tracks. Normally at this point, if a gorgeous man was being funny and sweet and she liked him, she’d stay and talk. And not only that, she amended, she’d sign up for more. But things were different now. She was different. She wasn’t doing any of this to get a man, and, truth be told, she wouldn’t know what to do with one at this point anyway. She wanted to prove to the women in town she didn’t need to flirt, and that she could do a job and do it well, without attracting male attention. She frowned. That wasn’t going so well evidently. Was she attracted to Ned?
Turning back toward the shop, she regarded him carefully. He had a swipe of red paint across one cheek, but that only made him more approachable. The man was a knock out no matter how you looked at him. The paint spear made him cute. Shocked by her appraisal, her eyebrows lifted. When was the last time she’d thought a grown man was cute? Especially one with a physique like the deputy.
He grew uncomfortable under her stare, and she realized she was being rude. “I really do have to go,” her words said, but the rest of her said, “I want to stay.” He was easy to talk to and friendly. He didn’t judge her. He was nice. It came to her then; she had a friend in Ned. They had some things in common, and they could have a laugh together. Given her situation, a friend was something she needed. Gaging her words carefully, she hoped she could make him understand how much she appreciated him. “I really do have to go, but this has been… this has been great.”
He looked so disappointed that she nearly relented, but she knew it was for the best. This pageant was not the time or place to be looking for a new boyfriend. And she was sure she didn’t want to ruin the budding friendship they’d forged. This was new territory, and she had to move carefully and use her head.
“I have to go.” She turned toward the door, then, with her hand on the door handle, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “But I’ll see you tomorrow night at practice, right?”
For a minute she thought he wasn’t going to respond, but finally he nodded, and an easy grin lit his face. “Sure.”
All she could manage was a quick nod, and then she ducked out the door before she could change her mind.
Author Bio:
Kirsten is a dreamer with an eye for art and design. She worked in the engineering field, taught college, and consulted free lance. Due to health problems, she retired in 2012 to travel with her husband. They live and work full time in a 40' travel trailer with their little dog Bingo. Besides writing romance novels, she enjoys selling art on Etsy and spoiling their three grandchildren.
As a writer, Kirsten's goal is to create strong female characters who face challenging, painful, and sometimes comical situations. She believes that the best way to deal with struggle, is through friendship and women helping women. She knows good stories are based on interesting and relatable characters.
Christmas Wish List N.R. Walker (Hartbridge Christmas Series, #2) Publication date: November 25th 2021 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance
In need of work and a change of scenery, Aussie ex-pat Jayden Turner agrees to a short-term chef position at a Bed and Breakfast over the Christmas holidays. After all, how hard could it be in a small town in the mountains of Montana? What he finds is a grand old house in a beautiful town, and his new boss is gorgeous, gay, and single.
After his divorce, Carter “Cass” Campion bought his great-aunt’s rundown country manor in his home town, and he’s determined to get it ready for the busy holiday period. Recently out as gay, he’s been focused solely on his business and hasn’t had time for a man. Not that many gay men come through Hartbridge . . .
As his new clients arrive, and being away from his two kids, celebrating Christmas is the last thing on Cass’s mind, but his new chef has other ideas. And if there’s one thing on his Christmas Wish List this year, Jayden can make it come true.
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.
She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.
She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
Golden Crown Kathleen Mare’e (Arthur Academy, #2) Publication date: November 26th 2021 Genres: New Adult, Romance
“If the world is full of monsters, how do we know who wears the crown…”
Hendrix:
In the dark of the night he bared his soul, delivering a shocking event that should’ve changed everything.
So why in the light of day, does everything appear the same…?
The further I’m immersed in this world he calls the ‘elite’, the more I don’t understand. And it’s not only his world I’m afraid I’m falling for, but the Golden Crown himself as well.
But Pax still has secrets.
And I want him to trust me, like a flame wanting fire.
Because despite his world being nothing as it seems, I’m not sure I could walk away even if I wanted to.
Because the truth be told, I don’t want to.
I want him.
Paxton:
In the dark of the night I revealed a truth, delivering the brutal reality of what the elite really means.
So why in the light of day, does everything appear the same…?
It’s the same cat and mouse games, and the same political, power tricks where the Golden Crown is all they see. It’s all they want to see.
Except for her.
But there are things I can’t tell her. Things I don’t think she’ll understand yet.
And I need her to trust me, like a fire needing flame.
Because despite me knowing what this world does to those who fall victim to it, I’m not sure I could walk away from Hendrix, even if I wanted to.
I took my lip beneath my teeth before opening my soul up as much as I was capable of. The words I were about to ask, meant more to me than she would ever know.
“I need you to trust me.”
I held my breath. Ready to wait for her reply but was surprised at how fast it actually flew from her mouth.
“I do.”
I stilled. “What? You trust me?”
I didn’t believe it. I was almost angry at Hendrix’s answer.
How could she trust me after everything I’ve put her through?
Everything I’ve hidden. It didn’t make any sense.
What also made no sense was her reaction either because she shook her head before taking a seat on the edge of her bed (which was too far away from me) where she played with the hem of her tee that was resting on her lap.
“Crazy huh? That I trust you. But… I can’t explain why I do. I’ve just always….”
“You’ve always what?”
She glances up, piercing my heart with her hazel eyes honing in on me with so much raw emotion. “I’ve always…” she starts, before seemingly coming to some realisation within herself. “When I was younger… I always sensed when things were wrong you know? Like that sixth sense that something bad was about to happen, or when danger was nearby. Even when I was too young to really understand my situation, I always knew deep down the kind of dangerous situation I was in. That it wasn’t normal. Well, it wasn’t everyones normal at least. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m sure from those photos you saw that you have some idea of what I grew up in.” She pauses and my fists ball at the reminder instantly. I don’t have time to let that anger consume me though before she continues. “But I’ve just always trusted my instincts. They’ve never let me down and I guess in a lot of ways I’ve relied on it since I had no actual family to have my back. And…” she pauses again, nervously this time, when she notices me taking slow, measured steps toward her.
“And….?” I whisper, until I’m standing over her causing her head to tilt back to look up at me.
“And my gut? For some reason it trusts you Paxton. Despite you making me nervous, despite the things you say and the things you do. I feel safe around you. Protected. Like the only person capable of hurting me when you’re near – is no one else. Only…. you.”
My hand finds her cheek, letting her warmth seep into my palm. A palm, that was capable of so much destruction. So much hurt. But everything she just said was true. Because I’d always had this sense to protect her, like somehow our souls recognised the pain and destruction we both endured in our lives and wanted to somehow heal together. In most of our time together though, I wanted to protect her from me too. But this girl….
I held her as delicately as a guy like I could, when she gave me something of hers that was beyond precious. Her trust. I almost couldn’t believe she was giving it to me but it was something I was determined to keep. No matter the cost.
“You never asked me you know.”
“I never asked you what?”
“If I had something to do with… You never asked me.”
Her small fingers wrap around my wrist that’s still cupping her cheek and her eyes never sway from mine. “I may not know everything about you Pax, but I know you aren’t capable of something like that. I’ve been around monsters my entire life and you aren’t one. You’re not.”
I suck in a breath, wanting so much more in this moment when I breathe, “You called me Pax.”
She tilts her head, a knowing smirk crossing her delicate face. “It’s your name isn’t it?”
“I guess I like how it sounds coming from you.”
Then for the first time in a long time, I let myself feel…
Author Bio:
Kathleen grew up in the south-western suburbs of Sydney, where family holidays by the beach and tormenting her two younger brothers, was how she spent her early years. But at the young age of 11, when she submitted a short story to a talented writing competition through the NSW schools program, not only did she win it, but she quickly found a love for it as well.
Throughout her schooling, writing was a hobby, along with sketching and various sports. But fast forward to her adult years when she moved to Europe to follow her husbands field hockey dream, and her love for writing surged to the surface.
Her debut story, Cut, was penned over two years where her hobby seemed to lead to the completion of Pennys' world. The rest of the series came the following year.
Kathleen enjoys writing stories full of self-discovery, emotional journeys and of course, love.
Something else she loves is hearing from her readers, so feel free to follow her blog or drop her an email.
For signed copies of her novels, more information about upcoming stories, or to follow her blog, please visit her website www.kathleenmaree.weebly.com
Midlife Witch Unexpected Melle Amade (Cougar Creek Coven, #1) Publication date: November 23rd 2021 Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Women’s Fiction
Middle-aged and starting over is the last thing I ever wanted on my bucket list. But since my husband announced he was gay and my daughter left for college, I don’t really have a choice.
If I’m going to get my “Happily Ever After” I have to start making new choices, starting with picking guys who like women rather than women’s makeup would be a good start.
Next!
I’m way past the point of caring what other people think. I’m 49, about to turn 50 and I’m pretty sure I’m entering the prime years of my life. It’s time to make my mark and do things the way I want to do them.
Like move.
I am sooooooo leaving the city that has sucked me dry with the commute and the executive position. There’s no way I’m doing that anymore. I have enough money from the divorce to buy a house, almost any house, outside of California. I take one suitcase and my jeep, and I leave town, not stopping until I get to Cougar Creek, which is so small I think it’s barely a town, but I’m all about it. This is where I will get my fresh start.
I inherited my Aunt’s home here years ago and never even visited, but the renters just moved out and I might as well make it my home.
For now.
But Cougar Creek has a lot more in store for me than I ever imagined. There is a load of eligible young men from the local ranches, a couple of new BFFs in similar situations, and a strange invitation to a local secret society who think I’m the new high priestess of their local coven. I didn’t stop laughing until I realized they wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. They have a massive problem in the cemetery and they expect me to solve it.
But I didn’t trade in one life of rules for another one, so if they want me to be high priestess, they’re going to have to accept that I make the rules.
“That’s her?” A deep voice came from the front door.
“See anyone else around here, Branson?” Bianca swiveled away from me and spoke to the golden man who stood by the front door.
His laughter reverberated from his throat and all the way to my thighs. My eyes opened wide as I looked him over. Thankfully he was staring down at his phone, his golden eyes almost hidden by his blond locks falling forward over his tan skin. He wore a plaid red, white, and blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was broad, lean, and muscular, and way too young for me.
“Who the heck is that?” I asked.
“Your caretaker,” Bianca raised an eyebrow at me.
“My caretaker?” I asked.
“The caretaker of The Estate,” Bianca explained it slowly as if she was talking to an ignoramus, which at the moment I actually felt like.
“The Estate,” I repeated like a parrot. Then suddenly snapped out of it. “Aunt Emma’s estate! Okay! Got it.”
“Round here we all just call it The Estate,” Bianca said with a shrug.
“And that’s the caretaker?” I whispered to Bianca, my voice catching in my throat.
“Every last inch of him,” she nodded, stealing a covert glance at the tall, broad man who dwarfed the front office space of the Cougar Creek cop shop.
“Lord have mercy,” I said under my breath.
Branson went straight to the sign-in sheet as if this wasn’t his first time here. But his handsome features scowled as he looked over at me. I stared back as he stepped across the sheriff’s office to tower above me, his arms folded over his chest.
“Well, that’s not intimidating at all.” I craned my neck to look up at him.
He started as if he hadn’t been aware of himself, took a step back, and unfolded his arms. “You’re Mae.” He stated the obvious. “I’m here to drive you home.”
“That’s a long way to drive.” My mind suddenly thought of a long leisurely drive back to L.A. with my caretaker, Branson.
“Pardon?” Branson looked at me a bit confused.
“Never mind.” I stood up turning to Bianca. “Do you need anything else from me tonight? It’s late and I’m exhausted. You are remanding me into Branson’s custody?”
“My custody? I’m just giving you a ride home.” Branson held up his hands in protest.
“Sheriff said you’re to verify who she is, take her home, and bring her back tomorrow to get her jeep,” Bianca confirmed for Branson.
I covertly looked him over thinking I wouldn’t mind being in his very good hands. But instantly my heart squeezed. Men weren’t safe; not at all. As I poured back through the years of lies, I realized there was probably not one single moment of truth in my relationship with my ex-gay husband. How was I ever going to trust any man ever again? Clearly, I was an idiot; a vulnerable, gullible idiot who believed anything anybody said to me.
“Are you sure he’s safe to take me to my house?” I asked Bianca.
“I have a police tracker on,” Branson wiggled his leg.
“Seriously?” I took a step back.
Bianca and Branson burst out laughing. “No not seriously,” Bianca said. “There’s only one person around here on the radar.”
“And it’s not me.” Branson pointed out. “Now come on. I’ve got a poker game waiting for me. Let me get you home and all tucked in.”
I looked over my shoulder at Bianca and we both did a slight giggle at his words, clearly thinking the same thing about being tucked in. It was a relief to feel an instant bond to this other middle-aged divorced woman, even though she’d never left this town. I guess that was nothing to hold against someone.
I shook my head as I trailed behind Branson to the door.
I wasn’t here to make friends. I wasn’t here to have romance. I was here to get some space, clear my head, and more than likely sell a house. My divorce was almost through and then I could start my new life.
Branson held the door open for me. “I’ll take you home, boss, and have you delivered to your jeep in the morning.”
My stomach sank. That’s right. He was my employee.
Well, of the estate, but as I was the sole owner of the estate, he was still my employee.
And a “no fraternizing with the staff” rule went without saying. There was no way to even have a little fling with Mr. Rock Solid Biceps.
He was way off-limits.
Author Bio:
USA Today Bestselling Author. Farm Girl. Marketing Director.
Since I was eight, I have been writing stories that capture the adventures in my head and the characters strong enough and flawed enough to have them. When I look at an empty field, I see a formidable citadel. When I meet a vulnerable old man, I greet an emeritus warrior. When I walk through city streets, I feel dimensions hiding around every turn. It has been my lifelong passion to explore these worlds that reveal the pain of loneliness, the joy or self-actualization, and the hope of magic.
I grew up in a place called Potter Valley where the Milky Way is held aloft by a circle of mountains and the central business district consists of a bait store and a saloon. At 19, I moved alone to London and spent the next ten years exploring the world, even becoming an Australian citizen, before I returned to California and found a new home in Los Angeles. My world revolves around my two wee children, storytelling, and my love of travel.
The Bareback Cowboy Melanie Munton (Southern Hearts Club, #4) Publication date: November 23rd 2021 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
He might be one of the best riders in the world,
but she’ll give him the buck of his life.
WOULD YOU RATHER… Go through your entire life without ever falling in love?
OR… Have a rough-and-tumble cowboy stomp all over your heart with his sharpened spurs before riding off into the sunset like John f***ing Wayne?
Yeah, that happened. And frankly, I knew better. All cowboys are trouble. I’ve grown up around them my entire life, so I know how they operate. I’ve broken some of the toughest horses in the business. But for some reason, I found this thoroughbred impossible to resist.
A lot of good it did me too. Nothing but tears and comfort eating in the aftermath.
Suddenly, after a year away with no phone calls or texts to show for it, he’s back. He thinks we can pick up where we left off. But I’ve got news for him: His eight seconds with me are already up.
Little do I know, there’s a reason why he’s come back.
“Does every cowboy on the goddamn planet want between your legs?”
I don’t know how or why, but I just knew I was going to have to do some sort of explaining regarding my conversation with Landon. But am I really obligated to? I don’t think I owe anyone, even Trace, any explanations at all.
With ire fueling my movements, I spin around, eyes full of warning. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
A muscle pops in Trace’s jaw. “Who was that guy?”
I’m surprised I’m actually willing to appease him by answering. “Someone I used to date. Which falls under the category of none of your business.”
Eyes narrowing to slits, he mutters, “none of my business,” as he backs me up against the concrete wall of the darkened hallway between the bathrooms and the concession stand. When he eventually has me trapped between his arms, he presses his fists against the wall and shifts all his weight onto one foot.
“I think I at least have the right to be annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t stop eye-fucking you as you walked away. Wouldn’t you say, Quinn?”
Oh, the nerve of this man!
My chin goes up in the air. “That doesn’t give you the right to be angry with me.”
“Whoever said I was angry with you?” he asks through clenched teeth. “I’m angry at him for looking at you that way. For ever having had the right to. Or maybe I’m just angry at myself for caring in the first place.”
How he always manages to make my anger pull an abrupt U-turn I’ll never know. Something about his unpracticed, candid reactions just get to me. Even if I don’t like what he’s saying, I’d rather be disappointed with the truth than be happy with a lie.
But this particular truth doesn’t disappoint me at all.
The fact that he’s jealous of Landon coils tightly around my chest, making it feel like all my insides are being squished together.
“Why do you care?” I find myself unwisely asking.
“Because, goddammit. If you’re going to ride any cowboy this summer, it’s going to damn well be me.”
Author Bio:
Melanie grew up in the Midwest, but she loves living in the Southeast (where the beaches are!) now with her husband and daughter.
Melanie's other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together...ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.
At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love.
Go visit Melanie's website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!
Dating Dracula Kinsley Adams (Dating Monsters, #1) Publication date: March 15th 2021 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Paranormal, Romance
The Legend. The Immortal. My… Boyfriend?
You know, I really only had two goals in life:
1) Unearth the truth about vampires and,
2) Become hella famous.
Nowhere on that list did I have “die” or “get turned into a bloodsucker.” But guess what? Life doesn’t always go according to plan. Now, thanks to an unfortunate back-alley encounter, I’m the newest member of the undead country club (fangs, coffin, and all). And my savior? Sire? Whatever…
Freaking. Dracula. Himself.
Even stranger, he claims I’m his mate. Like… eternal love. But come on! I don’t have time for that. Not only do I need to track down my attempted murderer, but I also need to learn how to be a vampire. Falling in love is the last thing on my mind right now.
Too bad Dracula has other plans for me.
***
Fans of Dracula will love this new modern and chic take on the immortal legend himself. Scroll up and one-click now!
“I’m sorry,” she whispered with her back still to me. “I just…. You died, Anna. You’re dead.”
“Undead,” my savior clarified for like the third time.
“It’s still dead!” Lucy snapped.
Even I glared at him. Now wasn’t the time for his little comments.
“I—I don’t know how to handle all this. Do I grieve for you? Or celebrate the fact that you’re still walking around? You’re a vampire, Anna. For frick’s sake, do you know what that means? You drink blood, you sleep in a coffin… you aren’t you anymore. How am I supposed to handle this?”
My dead heart shattered. “You’re supposed to accept me as I am,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “We’re sisters. Always. Forever.”
“Except always and forever means two very different things to us now,” she said.
I forced myself to swallow. From the sounds of it, Lucy was breaking up with me. Which almost made me laugh. She was my longest relationship ever. And she wanted to walk away from it? All because of an accident I had no control over?
I ran a hand down my face and turned toward my savior. Someone whose name I really needed to learn. I couldn’t keep referring to him as my savior or I was going to develop some major hero worship issues.
“Anna, I’m sorry,” Lucy repeated. “But I think I need some time to process all this.”
I nodded, all the while keeping my gaze trained on my savior. He was the only thing keeping me calm right now. The thought that I might lose my best friend over all this was too much. I couldn’t show her how much this hurt, because if I did, I might never recover. Lucy had stormed into a vamp club at my side, but apparently, she drew the line at death.
And honestly? I didn’t blame her. This time, tears really did spring to my eyes, but I blinked them back before they spilled. If I started crying, I had a feeling I’d never stop.
“I’m going to head back to the hotel,” she said. “I’ve been staying there the past few nights.” Wait, what? Past few nights? But before I could question that little tidbit, she continued speaking. “Do you want me to call your parents for you? Explain what happened?”
“No,” I rasped. That wasn’t her responsibility. If anyone was going to tell them about my transformation, it would be me.
“I’ll text you,” she mumbled, but her voice was already fading. She was leaving.
Text me. Ugh. Why not just tell me you hope we can still be friends?
I hated this. What happened to best friends forever? I’d like to think that if this had happened to her, I’d still be standing by her side. Lucy was my world. Nothing could have convinced me to leave her.
“I’m sorry” was her final comment before I heard the door shut.
I took a few minutes to absorb everything. Thankfully, my savior let me brood in silence. I appreciated that. I wasn’t in the mood to hear platitudes right now.
Once I was sure I had schooled my expression, I turned toward him and nodded. It was embarrassing to have someone witness a break-up, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that now.
I needed a distraction. I didn’t want to think about Lucy right now. I’d reserve that for later, when I was alone and could process everything myself. Instead, I stared up at him, once again stricken speechless when our gazes met. Why did I find him so enthralling? So fascinating? It felt like I could stare at him for hours.
Clearing my throat, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and asked, “Well, do you have a name?”
His brows shot upward, and an amused smile claimed his lips, exposing the tips of his fangs. Intrigued, I reached for my own, poking them with my fingertip. They must have been what scraped my tongue earlier. Seemed they were a permanent fixture too. I’d have to remember that when talking and laughing. Vampires might be public knowledge now, but as seen by Lucy, humans weren’t one hundred percent ready to accept them yet.
“Forgive me,” he said, his voice deliciously rumbly. “I’m so accustomed to being recognized wherever I go that I often forget to introduce myself.”
So, he was like vampire royalty or something?
Fangs still peeking out from behind his lips, he gave an old-fashioned bow, one he executed flawlessly, then peered at me through long, dark lashes. I shit you not, the boy almost breathed life back into me. He was just that gorgeous.
“My name is Vlad.” He took my hand and lifted it to his lips before brushing a gentle kiss across my knuckles. “But most know me as Dracula.”
I wish I could say I absorbed that information with grace and poise. But that would have been a lie. Instead, I burst out laughing, and said, “No shit!”
Author Bio:
Kinsley Adams is a thirty-something-year-old author who stopped counting when she turned twenty-five. When she isn’t writing uproariously hilarious romantic comedies, she’s raising her womb-gremlin with the hopes that he might one day become the world’s first Supreme Leader.
Shopping for a CEO’s Honeymoon Julia Kent (Shopping for a Billionaire, #14) Publication date: July 15th 2018 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
He says we never had a proper honeymoon.
So, instead, he’s giving me… a prepper honeymoon?
Who knew billionaire preppers were a thing?
I guess I’m about to find out.
—
Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series continues in Shopping for a CEO’s Honeymoon as Andrew and Amanda settle in to married life… and so much more.
FREE NOVEMBER 10-30, 2021
Whispersync the audio on Amazon for $7.49
—
EXCERPT:
Amanda
It’s Monday.
Our home looks like the set for Extreme Home Makeover, except there’s no bus to move and all of the workmen act like I’m invisible as I wander downstairs after waking up naked in an empty bed.
I throw on clothes and am down the stairs when I spot my husband.
“What is going on?” I ask Andrew, who is huddled over blueprints with some guy who looks like he runs a union hall in South Boston. Tight eyes, distrustful look, goatee, and an intensity that makes it clear you want him on your side.
Andrew breaks away, kisses my cheek, and gives me a saucy half grin. “Just like you wanted. Here we go.”
“Here we go what? We barely talked about what we wanted!”
“We did,” he says, suddenly defensive. “In bed,” he whispers.
“What I want in bed has nothing to do with tile colors and three-season sunrooms!” I say.
Loudly.
“The guys aren’t working on anything like that,” he hisses as a few workmen suppress smiles. “We’re putting in new backup systems.”
“Backups for what?”
“Power outages. Acts of God. Hurricanes. Bomb cyclones that leave six feet of snow.”
I snort. “What, no alien contingency plan? Got a blueprint for a universal extraterrestrial language translator in there?”
Andrew reddens and avoids eye contact.
I frown. “Andrew?” I grab his arm and pull him aside, his muscles tense. “What are you doing? This isn’t how I envisioned remodeling and spending our honeymoon. For one, we didn’t have sex that second time this morning.”
He looks at the clock. “It’s only 7:53. Plenty of time for that.” He grabs me at the waist and pulls me close, trying to divert me with a kiss.
It works.
“We’ve got the geothermal heat unit figured out, and when we redo the gutter system and the roof, in addition to the solar panels, we’ve got an evaporation system set up for clean water collection. Storage is next,” he says to me.
“All that in the first hour of work?” I’m stunned.
“I’m efficient. Two weeks of my focused attention is like five years of a normal human
being’s time.”
“Efficient and humble. I love that in a man.”
“You’d better, because you’re stuck with me forever.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
I get a pat on the ass in response.
Author Bio:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 1.5 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 16 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing soon. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three children in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
Tor Jennie Lynn Roberts (The Hawks, #4) Publication date: November 23rd 2021 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
What is it about her that makes him lose his mind? Every. Damn. Time.
Tor’s world is falling apart. The king he’d sworn to guard? Dead. The family he worked so hard for? They certainly wasted no time disowning him. All he has left is the Hawks… and an intense desire to win Keely’s heart. It won’t be easy—especially after the mistake he made—but he has to try, because the alternative, living without her, is unthinkable.
Losing someone you love leads to nothing but pain; Keely learned that the hard way. But there is something about Tor that makes her wonder if loving him is worth the risk… if only he felt the same way. Now her best option is to create a new future on her own—no matter how much she might wish her relationship with Tor could be different.
But all is not well in Brythoria. The treaty still isn’t ratified, and the mountain border is filled with enemies poised to destroy them. Can Tor and Keely find their way back to each other? Or will their second chance at happily ever after burn in the fires of impending war?
Tor, book 4 in The Hawks series, is a sexy, steamy, adult fantasy romance full of swords, shifters (kind of), and tons of action. But fair warning: This book is intended only for readers who love fast-paced adventure, soul mates and found family—and characters who curse when they fight for survival. If that’s you, happy reading.
First, Keely had to get rid of her breeches so she could sit down without destroying the chair with muddy water. Then they could focus on her jerkin and the arrow.
“I need you to pull my breeches down,” she prompted. “I can’t do it with one hand. The leather is soaked, and they were already too tight. They’re Alanna’s.”
Tor glanced down at her breeches and then immediately looked away and took a small step back. Damn. He really was honorable. Keely lifted a heavy woolen blanket off the bed and wrapped it over her shoulders to hang down to her knees. She never asked for help. Not unless there was absolutely no other choice, and right now there was no other choice. “I need your help, Tor. I don’t ask often, so make the most of it.”
“Are you sure I’m the best person?” he asked slowly.
No. She was not at all sure. The last man she’d been even partially naked in front of was Niall. And that was ten years ago. But she was too exhausted and too cold to stay as she was, and her shoulder was on fire, her fingers tingling with waves of burning pins and needles. She couldn’t do it alone. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He nodded, once, and then knelt in front of her and helped her out of her boots. She balanced herself on his shoulder with her good hand, and he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of her breeches and tugged.
It was hard work, the tight, wet leather clinging to her cold skin, and she had to shimmy her body to help him pull the breeches down. They stuck, and he grunted as he shifted his thumbs and tried again.
Bard. She wasn’t at all sleepy now. Even with the relentless ache in her shoulder, she was acutely aware of his big hands, the heat of his fingers where they ran down her legs, how close he was to her body.
The breeches suddenly came away, and she stepped out of them, one foot at a time. He stood and lifted the sodden leather away to dry beside the fire, returning as she sank into the comfortable armchair.
“What about your jerkin?” he asked slowly.
There was only one solution. “Cut it off.”
Tor watched her for a moment but then nodded. “Okay.” He pulled out a lethal-looking dagger and began slicing through the laces while she held the blanket swathed around her body and over her chest.
It was a strange kind of dance. Trying to hold the blanket out of the way but at the same time cover herself. All while keeping her injured shoulder still. She was deeply, intensely aware of the closeness between them. Of how big he was, and yet how carefully—tenderly almost—he was helping her.
If he hadn’t been so close, she might have thought he was unaffected. His face was stoic, completely shuttered, and he hadn’t said a word since he’d taken out his knife. But she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Could feel the way his breath picked up. And she knew that he was as aware of her as she was of him.
Author Bio:
Jennie Lynn Roberts believes that every strong, kickass heroine should have control of her own story, a swoony hero to support her at every turn, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Because that doesn’t always happen in real life, she began creating her own worlds that work just the way they should. And she hasn’t looked back since.
Jennie would rather be writing than doing anything else—except for spending time with her gorgeous family, of course. But when she isn’t building vibrant new worlds, she can be found nattering with friends, baking up a storm, or strolling in the woods around her home in England.
If you want to talk books, romance, movies, reluctant heroes, or just about anything else with Jennie, feel free to contact her atwww.jennielynnroberts.com. But be prepared to settle in for a long chat if you bring up shifters, vampires, Star Wars, or The Princess Bride…
Scandalous Published by: SinCyr Publishing Publication date: November 20th 2021 Genres: Erotica, Romance
Prepare to be scandalized… in the best possible way.
Religion gets re-interpreted, rock stars find new ways to make music backstage, politicians thrive on punishment, and a young teacher gets an unexpected legacy from the father he never met. There are startling consequences to a scientific experiment, exhibitionism indoors and outdoors, and a high-profile dominatrix remembering her notorious past during a lockdown.
Stories by Kristan X, Elizabeth Coldwell, Sprocket J. Rydyr, Jordan Monroe, Eve Ray, Louise Kane, Elliot Sawyer, Dilo Keith, Colton Aalto, Zak Jane Keir, Allison Armstrong, and Ralph Greco, Jr.
The Xenadocin Trials were carried out over the course of two years in the early 1990s. Back then, Broad River University had a strong reputation for experimental drug development, with a number of high-profile successes. Records of the Xenadocin Trials are, however, extremely difficult to come by, even in the university’s own archives. Urban legend has it that the researchers involved shredded much of their work when the story hit the newspapers.
The facts of the case as they are generally known are quite simple. Xenadocin was intended as a preventative therapeutic for a range of conditions, primarily heart failure. However, the drug had a number of unintended side effects – side effects which are aptly described by one participant in this personal account from a post-trial interview:
***
I didn’t notice anything at all until about an hour after the first dose, at which point the effects came on rather strongly. The most overwhelming impression I had was of… well… arousal. One minute everything was normal, and the next I felt this incredible rush of desire. Suddenly it felt as though if I wasn’t able to get off in the next few minutes I might just die from frustration. It really was that immediate and that urgent.
It did shock me, somewhat. I remember sitting there, sweating profusely. There was a nurse who was taking my observations – a very pretty nurse with a button nose and a streak of pink in her hair. I could smell her, and having her body that close to me, all warm and soft and feminine… it was almost too much to bear.
I did whatever I could to distract myself. I counted to a hundred, and then backwards down to zero. I imagined the most unappealing things I could to try and switch off that arousal… but it just wouldn’t go. I was rock hard, and even shifting in my seat was enough to kind of… well… stimulate me.
Pretty soon it was almost out of control. I had to excuse myself and go to the men’s room and… well… deal with the situation there. It didn’t take long, I can tell you. As a matter of fact, I barely had to touch myself before I was done – that’s how turned-on I was.
Travis Harper knows two things to be true: 1. It’s time to adopt his foster daughter and build a custom home life for themselves, and 2. Laney Silverman is the last woman he’d ever trust with their hearts, even if she is everything he’s ever wanted. Especially since she has a bad habit of walking away from him.
Will twelve days be enough to give two former lovers a Merry Ex-Mas?
Releasing her grip on the luggage, Laney wrapped her arms around her mom, pulling her into an awkward embrace.
Ruth stiffened. “What . . . are you doing?”
“Hugging you. Apparently it’s what people do when they’ve lost someone they love.”
“Yeah, well, stop it. I don’t need your sympathy.”
Whatever emotion Travis thought he saw when looking at Laney’s mother, it wasn’t there now. When she drew back and studied Ruth’s face, no tears clouded her eyes. No grief etched her expression. Only annoyance, pure and simple. Like always. Laney dropped her arms. Same old Mama. Lovable as a freaking porcupine.
Deep breath, girl. You can do this. For Dad. She peered up at the house. Despite the generous square footage of the single-story bungalow-style house, from the outside, the home appeared smaller, darker without her father’s presence. She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump of grief wedged in her throat and forced herself to enter the house.
Crossing the threshold tugged at the threads of memories she’d kept squirreled away. Not all of them welcome. It took only one whiff of the familiar cinnamon coffee scent before the years magically melted away, and she was eighteen again, chafing at the bit, dying for just one ounce of the freedom her friends possessed.
Laney shook off the ghosts that held her hostage and tried to only focus on the positive memories. The ones with her dad.
As she made her way through the living and dining room toward her old bedroom, a smile pulled at her lips as fond memories bubbled up. She’d been closest to her father and everywhere her gaze landed brought forth an image of him to warm her heart. Fingers drifted over the couch, threadbare now but still located in the same place against the wall. Her father’s most-coveted possession, a black leather recliner, nestled in the corner of the living room. The mantle above the stone fireplace where Christmas stockings once hung. The oil paintings of snow-covered barns in the middle of a forest.
An image of her father wafted through the recesses of her mind. Happy and smiling. The world could be falling apart around him, and he’d still be as jolly as good old St. Nick. Hard to believe he was gone. The urge to cry swelled, but she tamped it down like a good girl and turned away, plastering a smile on her face.
“Where on Earth are you going?”
“To my bedroom.”
“Your bedroom?” Her mama tsked. “Good heavens, child, it stopped being your bedroom ages ago when you moved out.”
Laney used a foot to push open the bedroom door and stopped dead. “Good Lord Almighty, Mama, what have you done?”
It was like Santa’s workshop had materialized right in the middle of the room. Her mouth hung open as she gawked at the atrocity. Where once stood a vanity filled with cheap cosmetics only a teenager would buy, now a fake Christmas tree loomed, wilting under the weight of too many ornaments. Garland hung from the high shelf spanning the top of all four walls. A toy train chugged its way around the room. A workbench sat along one wall with a dozen or so holiday crafts waiting to be finished. The walls had been stripped of the soft turquoise blue hue her sixteen-year-old self had painstakingly selected, and replaced with a dreadful shade of gold that mirrored the tree ornaments.
And her daybed? Nowhere to be found. The half dozen or so NSYNC and Jonas Brothers rock band posters were conspicuously missing too. Gone were her hot-pink curtains, fuzzy beanbag, and black shag rug as well as anything remotely resembling her teenage years. All signs of her life there had been erased.
She’d been erased.
Author Bio:
Born to parents who loved to read, it’s no surprise Elizabeth Janette’s lifelong love of literacy led her to become both a teacher and a writer. In fact, writing about getting RIF’d from her teaching job in the 2008 recession is what led her to publish an essay about the experience. From then on, she was hooked. Now days, when she’s not teaching sassy 5th graders, Elizabeth Janette writes romance that both sizzles and thrills. And when she’s not teaching or writing, she works for her local chapter of the National Writing Project teaching teachers how to teach writing. Visit www.elizabethjanette.com to connect and sign up for her newsletter.