TASTE, an all-new sexy, stranded enemies-to lovers rom com from USA Today and #1 Amazon bestselling author Melanie Harlow is live now!
The last person on earth I want to be stranded with is Gianni Lupo.
But thanks to the blizzard of the century, I’m trapped in a roadside motel room with that cocky bastard for two straight days.
With one small bed.
Some women might thank Mother Nature for delivering a polar vortex that maroons them with six feet of solid muscle, those deep blue eyes, that sexy grin–but not me. I’ve known Gianni Lupo all my life, and he’s never brought me anything but bad luck and trouble.
So when the tension between us explodes with enough fiery heat to melt my icy defenses, I should have known what the disastrous end result would be–
A big fat plus sign.
After the snow melts, I’m left with more than just memories of the night we spent keeping each other warm. And he might be a rising star on the culinary scene, but he’s got no idea how to handle this bun in the oven.
He says he wants to do the right thing, but I’m not about to spend the rest of my life feeling like someone settled for me.
But just when I think I’ve got Gianni Lupo all figured out, he gives me a taste of the man he could be, of the family we could become, of the way he could love me if I let him.
I’m terrified of falling for him.
But one taste might be all it takes.
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Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TasteMH
Audio: Coming Soon
I sat at the foot of the bed and dialed Winnie’s number. She picked up immediately.
“Thank God! You guys okay?”
“We’re fine.” I watched Gianni unwrap a candy bar and lean back against the headboard. “We found a motel with a vacancy.”
“You mean you’re staying in a motel room together?” she asked, loud enough for Gianni to overhear.
“Yeah. And there’s only one bed.”
She laughed. “How’s that going?”
“You guys are getting along?”
Gianni made a lewd gesture involving his fist, his tongue, and his inner cheek. I gave him the finger. “As well you’d expect.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it.”
“We’re going to try to get out of here as soon as we can in the morning. I’ll let you know when we’re on the road.”
“Sounds good.” She laughed again. “Sleep tight.”
“Oh. We will.” I eyed the length of the bed. “We have no choice.”
After ending the call, I opened the Truth or Drink app on my phone and picked up my wine. “Ready to play?”
I scrolled through the options. “Do you want to play normal mode, party mode, or dirty mode?
Gianni looked at me like I was crazy. “Duh.”
I sighed and reached for my wine. “Okay, fine. I feel like I’m going to regret this, but dirty it is.”
“Can I take my pants off?”
“No. What’s your age range for a one night-stand?”
“Hmm.” Gianni thought for a moment.
“Please say at least eighteen.”
“No teenagers. I’ll say twenty to forty-five.”
He shrugged. “I think mature women are hot. But I can’t go near fifty because that’s my mom’s age and then it would be weird.”
“So what about you? Same question.”
“I’d have to say . . . thirty to forty.”
He looked offended. “Why thirty? You’re only twenty-three.”
And so was he, which was why I’d said it. “I know, but I think older men are just better in bed.” (I’d actually never been with anyone over twenty-eight.)
“In what way?”
“Just . . . more patient. More knowledgeable. More generous. Guys in their twenties think they’re all that just because they have younger bodies, especially if they’re—you know—well-endowed. But it’s not just the size of the boat. It’s definitely the motion of the ocean.”
He harrumphed. “You’ve been in the wrong boats.”
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About Melanie Harlow
USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like Ted Lasso, Schitt’s Creek, and Fleabag. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.
Melanie is the author of the BELLAMY CREEK series, the CLOVERLEIGH FARMS series, the ONE & ONLY series, AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, and the FRENCHED series. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.
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Stefan Dalca is beautiful, brooding, and bossy.
The Front Runner, an all-new enemies-to-lovers standalone romance from Elsie Silver is available now!
Stefan Dalca is beautiful, brooding, and bossy. He’s also public enemy number one in this small town, with a murky past that’s hard to overlook. And I just agreed to three fake dates with him.
I may be a renowned veterinarian, but when I find myself in a sticky situation, Stefan is my last hope. I need his help to save a sick foal and what he wants in return is me.
Our time together starts out as a simple transaction, but the more time I spend with him, the more I wonder if he’s not quite the villain they’ve made him out to be. With every intimate conversation and lingering look, the tension between us builds. I’ve been drawn to Stefan since the first day I laid eyes on him. And now he’s downright irresistible.
I know sleeping with the enemy is playing with fire. But like a moth to a flame, I’m attracted to the mysterious man in a way I can’t explain—in a way those closest to me wouldn’t approve of or understand.
And the more he softens for me, the harder I fall.
But as his mysteries unravel, so do hidden truths. Truths that are bound to leave someone burned.
I just didn’t expect that someone to be me.
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“Don’t be such a baby.”
Stefan has his arms wrapped around Loki’s neck and is looking down at the foal like he’s a stuffed animal, not a future athlete and animal that needs space to frolic and run.
“Are you serious right now?” I prod him. “I thought you were a big, tough man, but you’re too chicken to let this little guy romp around outside?”
“Mira. I’m not a big, tough man. I’m just a dick. Remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave my hand at him dismissively. Stefan is a lot of things, but the more I get to know him, the less I think a dick is one of them. “Let’s go. Outside. Fresh air is good for everyone.” I slip the leather halter onto Farrah’s head and buckle it near her ear. She looks excited. Ready to get out of the barn.
“What if he hurts himself?”
“Can’t live life that way, Stefan. Bad things happen all the time. Buck up. Let’s go.”
With a firm cluck, I walk Farrah out into the barn alleyway and head toward the big, wide-open sliding door. Today was beautiful and sunny and dry. And now, under the quiet charm of the evening, it’s the perfect time to let them take their maiden voyage outside with no tractors, no staff milling about, just calm and privacy for this colt and the mare who’s taken him under her wing.
Within a few moments, I hear the clopping of Loki’s hooves against the concrete and the scuff of Stefan’s boots. I smile to myself. The big bad wolf has certainly developed quite the soft spot for Loki.
Out under the setting sun, we head toward the paddock that’s already waiting and open. It’s a big grass field on the opposite side of the lake from the willow tree where Stefan and I buried the other foal a few weeks ago. I pull Farrah’s halter off, and she’s through the gate. Loki follows her, like the sweet little colt that he is.
Until Stefan lets him go.
Beneath the pink and orange sky, the sweet little colt blows a gasket. He’s got his head down between his knees and is trying to buck. Mile-long legs fly out all over the place while Farrah takes off for a leisurely trot down the fence line. Loki goes with her but doesn’t stop his antics. I shut the gate quickly and lean against the fence, chuckling.
Stefan steps up beside me and presses his elbows against the railing. “He looks like Elaine doing that godawful dance on Seinfeld.”
I straight up cackle. That is exactly what he looks like. “He looks happy,” I reply.
Stefan nods. “He does.”
“You’ve done a great job with him, Stefan.” I want him to understand what a huge difference he’s made for this small horse. That even if everyone sees him one way, I see that they’re all wrong. It feels like something he should know. This man is still clearly so broken up about his mother and trying so hard for the only family he has left.
His eyes flit to the side. “This is all you. I probably just made your job harder.”
“Oh, you mean by using me as a pawn in your pointless war with my friends?” I joke.
Now his head turns to me. Slowly, but sharply. Like a predator that’s heard his prey fumbling through the forest. “Pawn?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t play stupid, Stefan. It’s not cute. Making them keep Loki here rather than at Gold Rush Ranch. The three dates. I’m sure you’re just desperately hoping Billie finds out about those so you can sow discord between us. I know it’s all part of your plot to cut them down at the knees.”
He unfolds his fingers slowly as he regards me. Turning his body to face me. And mine follows like the opposite end of a magnet, matching his movement so we stand facing each other under the golden glow of the evening sky. “You think that you’re the pawn in my game?”
I scoff and roll my eyes in response. How dumb does he think I am?
He moves swiftly now, surely. One hand shoots out and slides between my coat and thin shirt. He palms my ribs there as he presses me back against the fence. We’re supposed to be watching the horses. But suddenly, all we’re watching is each other. My hands come up to push him away, but as soon as I feel the hard lines of his pecs beneath his shirt, my resolve withers.
“I’m going to tell you something, Mira.” I can feel the rumble of his voice through my palms. I can’t take my eyes off the sight of my hands on his chest. I’m not supposed to be touching Stefan Dalca, but my body must have missed the memo. Because my nipples rasp against my bra, and with each breath I draw, an ache coils just behind my hip bones.
“And I want you to listen very carefully.” With his free hand, Stefan reaches up and drags the pad of his pointer finger over my collar bone.
My breath turns to stone in my lungs. I’m too shocked to move. And too far gone to stop him. He’s standing so close I can smell his laundry detergent and the hint of pine that must be in his cologne.
“Because you are very confused.”
He starts at the center of my chest, his eyes following his finger, watching goosebumps fan out across my skin in his wake. When his finger gets close to my shoulder and the neckline of my shirt, he slips it just inside. Just under the strap of my bra. And with one flick, that strap is pushed right off my shoulder. His grip pulses on my ribs and he steps even closer, forcing me to look up and hold his gaze.
A quiet gasp escapes me when I catch sight of the expression on his face. What I see there is primal. He’s not just looking at me appreciatively… he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me.
I’m positive no man has ever looked at me like this before.
A sinful smile touches his mouth as he leans in close. His free hand cups the back of my skull so his thumb can brush across the sensitive part of my neck, almost at my throat.
His whisper is warm and silky. “Do I have your attention now?”
I swallow and nod, feeling chills break out over my skin. There is not a single part of my mind or body that is not entirely focused on the man who has pushed me up against the fence.
“Good. Because I want to make myself abundantly clear.” We’re so close. I can feel the entire length of his body covering mine. He teases me with the lightest brush of his lips against my ear as he drops his voice and holds me captive. “You are not the pawn, Mira. You are the prize.”
I reel, and I feel the burn of his lips against my skin as he presses a featherlight kiss to the spot his thumb had been rubbing. My pulse hammers, and I swear all I can hear is my blood rushing through my veins. The air crackles between us. No man has ever spoken to me like this.
I should put a stop to our interaction. And yet, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. My body comes to life for him in a way it shouldn’t.
He steps away, and I feel alarmingly bereft, like I want to yank him back toward me. Like I want more. I’m the biggest traitor I know because I want him to continue. I want him to whisper more forbidden secrets against my body.
His tongue darts out over his bottom lip, followed by his teeth, in a very intentional way as his eyes peruse my body. His gaze lands on the hand I now have slung over my chest in an attempt to slow my racing heart. The other one grips the fence post behind me, possibly the only thing that’s keeping me upright at this moment.
“And I love to win,” he finishes with a stupidly sexy smirk, then turns around and walks away.
Leaving me with the perfect view of his firm ass and a jumbled mess of confused feelings.
Elsie Silver is a Canadian author of sassy, sexy, small town romance who loves a good book boyfriend and the strong heroines who bring them to their knees. She lives just outside of Vancouver, British Columbia with her husband, son, and three dogs and has been voraciously reading romance books since before she was probably supposed to.
She loves cooking and trying new foods, traveling, and spending time with her boys–especially outdoors. Elsie has also become a big fan of her quiet five am mornings, which is when most of her writing happens. It’s during this time that she can sip a cup of hot coffee and dream up a fictional world full of romantic stories to share with her readers.
“She’s so very good at being bad.”
Beautiful Surrender, an all-new steamy standalone romance that brings the heat from Ivy Wild is available now!
My truth is control.
My truth is that good is rewarded
and that bad is punished.
Aubrey Knight thought she could disrupt my business
and get away with it.
But, she was sorely mistaken.
So, when her father lost the election
and came to me begging for money I struck a deal.
The little brat would serve as collateral until the loan was repaid.
She thinks she can test me.
She will learn that my house has rules,
and she will learn to follow them.
I will never follow his rules.
Beautiful Surrender is a standalone romance that explores the psychological dynamic of BDSM rather than the physical.
His hand wrapped around the nape of my neck, and he pulled back briefly. His intense amber eyes were on me and his breathing was heavy.
He didn’t seem like himself. That perfect composure he always wrapped around himself like a designer suit was gone.
He was shirtless.
And it was beautiful.
Because I knew it was just for me.
Maybe I’d been jealous of what I saw between him and his ballerina. But now I knew. Now I knew that he had his walls up around her, as well.
I was the only one he showed this side of himself to.
“Kiss me back, goddammit,” he growled against my neck, nipping at the skin.
I so wanted to. I wanted to let myself fall into him. I’d been burned by my own flames for so long that I was more than ready to let them go out if I thought someone would come along and keep me warm.
And Xavier seemed like the type of man that would do just that. He seemed like the type of man I could rely on.
I pressed my palms against his firm pectorals.
And then, I pushed him away.
“I’ll never be the other woman,” I said firmly.
“There’s no one else,” he growled.
“She left less than an hour ago,” I reminded him with a huff.
“She’s nothing to me,” he said before moving in again. I pushed against him but his strength overwhelmed me. His body was on me, and I barely had any fight left within me.
“You’re lying,” I whispered, looking away from his intense gaze.
His fingers gripped my chin roughly and turned my head so that I couldn’t help but look at him. “I don’t lie. I’ve never lied a day in my life. And I certainly wouldn’t break that over a woman.”
“Is that all I am? Just some woman?”
“Kiss me back and I’ll make you more than that.”
Did I believe him? Could it really be true that she was nothing to him? I saw the way he was with her. It was nothing like the way he was with me right now. He was all cold detachment with her.
His ice was gone.
All I could feel were the scorching bright flames of his heart. The flames that, try as he might, he couldn’t hide. They showed so brilliantly through his eyes.
“I’m not going to fall in love with you,” I whispered, even though I knew it was a lie.
“I don’t believe in love,” was his response.
“Good, then,” I grit out, not allowing myself to feel the disappointment that was welling up inside of me.
“You want this?” he asked, pushing his body into me. I could feel his erection against my stomach. There was no questioning what he wanted. “Tell me you want this.” He moved in closer, his lips hovering just above my ear. “Get down on your knees and beg me for it.”
My sex clenched at his words as shivers wracked my body. I did want him. Even still, I was never going to give into him that way.
“I’ll never beg you for anything,” I forced myself to say.
His face hardened. “I’m not fucking playing around Aubrey. Say you want this, say you want me, or all of this stops.”
“I want all of this,” I whispered. “I’m just never going to beg you for it.”
“You’re such a brat,” he nearly spat but he couldn’t hide his lust for me. I could see it in his eyes and the way he moved his body against me. I could feel it in how firm he was for me.
“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” I replied.
He captured my lips as I spoke and bit down hard on my lower lip. I gasped and he invaded my mouth with his tongue. I moaned as my nails dug into the firm muscles of his shoulders.
He consumed me with this kiss. His presence normally was dominating, consuming, intimidating. But, this kiss was that and more.
His fingers held my chin firmly in place, and I had no way to fight him. No way to refuse him. No way to escape him.
None of that mattered though.
Because I didn’t want to do any of that.
I wanted to be here. I wanted his lips on me. I wanted to erase whatever it was I saw earlier, even if he said it was nothing.
He pulled back and I sucked in breath. Suddenly I found myself being flipped around so that my body was pressed against the wall. He held me there and I knew I wouldn’t escape him if he didn’t want me to.
“I don’t need to pretend for you. I don’t like it. Your attitude, your challenges. You’re a spoiled little brat, Ms. Knight. You deserve to be punished.”
He pulled the lace thong I didn’t remember putting on aside and his fingers danced just beside my folds. My legs were shaking with anticipation. I wanted him to touch me more than I wanted anything, but he seemed determined to make me beg for it.
I bit down on my tongue hard to stop myself from giving in. To stop myself from going back on my word within less than thirty seconds.
“So strong. So fierce. So feisty,” he whispered against my ear before sucking on the lobe.
“Do what you came here to do,” I goaded him. “Or I’m going to think you’ve lost your nerve.”
He smirked against my skin. “You’re lucky I don’t have a paddle, or your ass would be as fiery as your attitude.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I seethed as he continued to tease me, massaging the inside of my thighs gently.
His finger dipped inside my entrance suddenly, and I screamed at the intrusion as he started to work me expertly.
“What was that, Ms. Knight?” he whispered against me as he continued to work me, pressing hard against my G-spot with each stroke. “Were you trying to suggest that I lack the nerve to take you? Was that it?”
I wanted to respond. I wanted to fight back at his comment. But, I could barely breathe with how fast he was working me now. Air seemed to catch in my throat, and I was fairly sure my legs had given out and his strength was the only thing holding me up.
Just as I was about to crest, he pulled his finger out of me and wrapped it around the front of my body. I opened my mouth to protest and instead found his thick fingers shoved inside.
“Taste yourself on me, Ms. Knight. Tell me how good submitting to me tastes.”
I groaned around his fingers before he pulled them out. His body pulled back, and I thought for a minute that he really intended to leave the job unfinished.
But within seconds he was pressing me back against the wall and sheathing himself inside of me.
“Fuck!” I cursed at the feel of him. He’d taken me raw, and I could feel every beautiful inch of his stiff cock pressing deeper and deeper inside of me.
“You’re beautiful when you don’t resist,” he whispered against my back before he started to move.
Writer of all things untamed, romantic and free, Ivy Wild never planned on becoming a romance novelist. In fact, she hated romance as a kid and was quite proud of that fact. Basically, life is weird.
Married to her own alpha hero, she currently lives in various places of the world at various times thanks to his military career.
Her current side hustle is being a lawyer.
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I Couldn’t Kill Mara…
There is No Devil, the much anticipated conclusion to the Sinners Duet by Sophie Lark is available now!
I Couldn’t Kill Mara…
But that doesn’t mean Shaw won’t.
She’s living in my house, always with me, always under my control.
The more I push her, the more she pushes back.
She’s peeling away my secrets, one by one. And I’m tempting her to do things she never thought she’d do…
Shaw won’t stop hunting her.
When the time comes to act, will Mara be ready?
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Excerpt from There Are No Saints
We’re about to enter the junior studio on the opposite side of the building when Mara catches up with me.
“Excuse me!” she pants, her cheeks flaming pink. “Could I speak to Mr. Blackwell for a moment?”
The other panel members turn to look at me, to see if I’ll comply.
Sonia is particularly curious. She knew something was up the moment I told her to offer Mara the studio. The discounted rate was a fabrication, invented by me on the spot. The same with this grant. It’s all leverage to get Mara right where I want her: completely at my mercy.
“Of course,” I say quietly. “The rest of you go on without me. I’ll join you momentarily.”
I lead Mara down the hall to an empty studio several doors down. I step into the clean, deserted space. She hesitates in the doorway, afraid to be alone with me.
“Are you coming?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
Pressing her lips together, she marches into the room, closing the door behind her.
I wait for her to speak, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, thrilling at the hectic spots of color on her cheeks.
She’s illuminated with fury, eyes blazing, cheeks flaming. Her dark hair swirls around her face, defying gravity from the pure electric tension between us. Her thin hands tremble, and she digs her nails into the thighs of her jeans.
“I know it was you,” she says, her voice low and hoarse.
I’m enjoying this so much I can hardly stand it. Her rage, her fear, and the delicious predicament I put her in, all mixed together in a potent cocktail. Her expression of shock when she saw my face, and the awful struggle as she had to discuss her work with the panel, while her brain must have been twisting and turning inside her skull . . . I’m so glad I have it all recorded. I can’t wait to watch it over again tonight.
“What was me?” I say mildly.
“You know,” she hisses. Her whole body is shaking. I’d like to hold her against me, to feel those tremors vibrating through my frame . . .
Her eyes glint with tears of fury, but she refuses to let them fall. Her lips are swollen and chapped, as if she’s been biting at them . . .
“Someone snatched me off the street. They tied me up, cut my wrists, and left me in the woods. You were there. I saw you. You stood over me, staring at me. You saw I needed help. And you walked right over me. You left me there to die.”
“What a bizarre accusation,” I say. “Do you have any proof?”
I know she doesn’t. I just want to see how she’ll respond.
“I saw you,” she hisses. “I’ll tell the cops.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, tilting my head as I look at her. “That would cause a lot of problems for you. You’d lose the studio, of course. The grant, too.”
“Are you threatening me?” Her voice rises, the edge of hysteria sharp as razor wire. “Why are you doing this? Why did you do this to me?”
She holds up her arm so her loose bell sleeve drops away, revealing the long, jagged scar across the wrist. The scar is still healing, raised like a welt on the skin.
“I didn’t do that,” I scoff.
Mara falters, her upraised hand dropping an inch.
Interesting—she doesn’t actually know who cut her.
“You were there,” she insists.
“So what if I was?”
She startles, shocked that I admitted it.
“Then you did this!” she shrieks.
“No,” I growl. “I didn’t.”
In one swift step, I close the space between us. Mara tries to turn and run, but I’m much too fast for her. I seize her by the arm, yanking her toward me, holding up that accusing hand and branded wrist.
I look down into her terrified face, pinning her in place with my gaze as much as my fingers locked around her wrist.
“There’s no limit on predators in the world,” I hiss. “And no lack of damaged girls to attract them.”
Sophie Lark is an Amazon Bestselling author who writes intense, intelligent romance, with heroines who are strong and capable, and men who will do anything to capture their hearts. She lives with her husband, two boys, and baby girl in the Rocky Mountain West.
She has a slight obsession with hiking, bodybuilding, and live comedy shows. Her perfect day would be taking the kids to Harry Potter World, going dancing with Mr. Lark, then relaxing with a good book and a monster bag of salt and vinegar chips.
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I’m terrified I’m not finished falling.
Still Falling for You, an emotional, angsty, second-chance romance from USA Today & Wall Street Journal bestselling author Siobhan Davis is available now!
Once there was a boy, with messy blond hair, vibrant blue eyes, and the most dazzling smile, who helped to mend all the dark, broken pieces inside me.
Ryder made a bad situation better. Falling for him wasn’t just inevitable—it was the stars aligning and our souls connecting at the deepest level.
Plans were made, and for the first time ever, I had hope. I believed in the future we were going to build together.
Until he left, without even saying goodbye.
Years have passed, and though I have tried to move on, my heart still lingers on the boy who claimed it.
Now he’s back, saying he wants another chance.
And I’m terrified I’m not finished falling.
This book was previously published as Only Ever You. It has received a makeover and undergone a fresh round of proofreading, but the story has not changed.
Due to mature situations and some dark themes, this angst-filled romance is only recommended to readers aged eighteen and older. Some scenes may be triggering. Please read the note at the start of the book.
Pain is etched across his face, and I just want to erase it. I thread my fingers through his and he clasps my hand firmly. “You were only a kid, it was an accident, and you weren’t the only one involved.”
“None of that matters though.” He turns to me with tears in his eyes. “I still relive it all the time, and the guilt never goes away. I don’t think it ever will.”
My eyes search his and I can’t bear to see him hurting, so I fling my arms around him, without any hesitation, holding him tight.
Friends hug friends, right?
He leans his head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arms tighter around him. “Some days, I think all the guilt I’m carrying will eat me alive. Some days, it’s a struggle to get out of bed. After I lost you, music became my only salvation. I honestly don’t know if I’d still be here if I wasn’t a musician.”
“Don’t say that.” I hug him closer. “I can’t bear to think of a world without you in it.”
“I can say the same of you, and I don’t ever want you to leave, Zeta, but I’m a selfish prick like that.”
Siobhan Davis is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal and Amazon Top 10 bestselling romance author. Siobhan writes emotionally intense stories with swoon-worthy romance, complex characters, and tons of unexpected plot twists and turns that will have you flipping the pages beyond bedtime! She has sold over 1.5 million books and her titles are translated into several languages.
Prior to becoming a full-time writer, Siobhan forged a successful corporate career in human resource management.
She lives in the Garden County of Ireland with her husband and two sons.
Connect with Siobhan
Subscribe to romance newsletter:http://smarturl.it/KennedyBoysList
Amazon Author Page:http://smarturl.it/SiobhanDavisAmazon
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It’s been four years since one night changed our lives…
I lost my heart, my soul, the love of my life.
She left without a word and never gave me a chance to explain.
Was I mad? Hell yeah.
But I never stopped loving her.
So I wrote her a letter, and then another one, and then another…
Now she’s back again and I can’t help the feelings I’m having. Just like before, she’s the oxygen in my lungs and the sun in my sky.
Except, she’s hell bent on never giving me another chance.
Four years ago, Remington made one decision that changed our future.
It hurt too much to relive that night over and over again, so I ran.
I went to the city and started over, ignoring all things Remington.
But after losing my job, I have no choice but to move home.
Back to Moonshine Springs.
Back to where my heart was shattered into a million pieces.
He seems to think we stand a chance, that we can move on and be something to each other once again.
I’m not so sure I can trust him, though.
Or that I’m willing to risk the pain that comes with loving Remington.
All I can do is agree to finally read his letters and see if my heart survives.
“Absolutely loved everything about this book…but I’m not surprised because I’ve loved every book by this author!” – Author S.E. Roberts
“Okay, so this book is the best angsty romance novel I’ve read in ages, and has definitely earned its place in my top 2021 reads.” – RetroGirlReads
“Emotional is an understatement… be prepared for a ride!” – Amy Loves Reading Blog
Title | Wraith
Series | Dirty Mavericks MC, #1
Genre | MC Romance/Crime Thriller
The Dirty Mavericks have two rules—never betray the club and protect each other at all costs.
As the President, this family is all that matters . . . until a feisty little firecracker comes crashing into our compound with the body of a goddess and drowning in trouble.
Nova needs help, but nothing comes for free. I agree to rescue her sister from a rival club, but only if she gives her body to me exclusively. The longer she’s here, the more I fall for her, but pleasure with Nova comes with jealousy, secrets, and betrayal.
I can’t stop the burn in my soul for this woman, though, and between the bastards brutalizing the kids in my town, and our enemies determined to take her from me, I’m almost certain Nova will do more than burn me—this time, I may get scorched.
Too bad no one realizes I’d walk through Hellfire to keep Nova at my side and in my bed. She’s mine, and I’ll unleash my darkest demons to make sure she stays that way.
It takes very little effort to kick the front door open. Luckily, we all ducked to the side as soon as I did, otherwise, one of us would have ended up with a gut full of scattered fragments from the shotgun fired our way. I lift my gun and take him down with a shot to his neck and one to his gut. As soon as the shotgun clatters to the floor, we file in. Fights break out all around us as men scramble to protect themselves. Bile rushes to my throat when I notice the state of undress of some of them, along with the terrified screams that don’t belong to any of these cocksuckers. Rage boils my blood as I swap my gun out for my Karambit blades. I need to feel the evil in the blood run over me as I watch the light leave their eyes. Their vile souls are mine, and I’m going to collect them like I’m the fucking grim reaper.
A man to my left lifts his gun my way, but I do a pirouette that my sister’s ballet teacher would be proud of and send both of my blades gliding across his throat. My vision is painted a beautiful shade of red as his life leeches from him.
I wipe my face with my arm and face the one coming at me on my right.
Neck. Armpit. Gut.
Over and over, my blood meets flesh, and my hunger for their life builds with each innocent scream I hear coming from this house.
My phone goes off. Over and over. Text. Text. Text.
I stand from my latest victim to find the war still waging around me. How many of these motherfuckers were in this goddamn house?
My phone rings, but right now I’ve got only one thing on my mind. Whoever it is can wait.
Stalking through the house, I take out anyone that isn’t wearing our colors as I follow the screams. A beefy man is standing in front of a door to what I’m going to assume is a basement. His eyes are dead in his pockmarked face and they watch me as I prowl closer. He’s got a knife in each hand, much like me, and something tells me this one is going to put up a much bigger fight.
“You’re an ugly son of a bitch,” I remark.
He says nothing. His head tilts as he studies me.
My fingers twitch around my blade, and his eyes drop to it for a minute before coming back to me. His smile is slow to form.
“This is going to be fun.”
I chuckle. “You ain’t kidding.”
For such a big motherfucker, he’s quick on his feet. He flies at me, the edge of his blade nicking my neck before I yank it to the side with a hiss.
“See, now you done pissed me off,” I drawl, wiping away the blood.
Without giving him time to prepare, I’m on him. One blade sinks into his side with a twist, the other catches his thigh. I grit my teeth when he also gets my side, but from experience, I know that it’s not hit anything vital. His other blade comes at me, but I spin out of reach, my blades catching face as I do.
He comes at me with a roar, but I’m better prepared. As graceful as a ballerina in shitkickers, I twirl until I’m standing behind him. Before he gets the chance to turn, I’m slamming one blade into the base of his skull and the other into the front of his throat.
I yank my blades from him, letting gravity carry his body to the floor as I wrench open the basement door. The screams pierce my pounding head as I travel down the broken stairs. Row after row of cages line the basement with shivering teenagers huddled in the corners of them.
Mom. Fiancée. Wine Drinker. Hot Mess. Even bigger Walking Disaster. Fluent Sarcasm Speaker. Word Writer. Collector of Readers Hearts. Taco Lover. Book Nerd.
Lynne is a USA Today Bestselling Author who writes a little mix of everything. Currently, it’s romance with a handful of suspense thrown in, a dash of dark and twisty along the way, and a lot more than the recipe calls for of steamy against-the-wall sexiness.
She lives in the quiet country with a bossy mister, a mischievous little prince, and two sassy divas. If you don’t catch her with her nose in a book or her fingers scribbling on paper, she’s usually right in front of the television with her family. She loves anything that glitters and has a weird habit of collecting pens. She thinks seafood is disgusting, beach sand is the devil, and Tom Hardy is life.
⟶ Follow her here.
From New York Times Bestselling Author Sawyer Bennett comes the next book in the Arizona Vengeance series. You can read JETT now and purchase the paperback. Sign up for Sawyer’s newsletter for exclusive details about all of her upcoming titles. Enter the release giveaway for a signed paperback and a $100 Amazon Gift Card!
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Jett by Sawyer Bennett
An Arizona Vengeance Novel
JETT is available now:
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Book Blurb:Jett Olsson isn’t looking for anything serious and she’s not looking for anything at all, so why does it seem so hard to keep it professional? I love my life—the thrill of being on the ice as part of the Arizona Vengeance, the rush of winning, the adoration of the fans. And if that adoration means I don’t have to spend the night alone, well even better. I’m content being single and always ready to mingle. But the day Emory Holland walks into a Vengeance team meeting my attention is caught like never before. I can tell right away she’s full of smarts and sass, and the fact that she’s hot as hell sure doesn’t hurt either. She immediately shuts down my advances, so I opt for the road less traveled—straight to the friend zone. My approach works like a charm, and when she invites me into her bed for a no-strings, friends-with-benefits arrangement, I vow to give her everything I have. She’s been hurt before, and if I’m able to help her heal while giving her a spectacularly satisfying time *pats self on back*, then I’ll be happy. Or at least that’s the lie I keep telling myself as the time ticks down on the final buzzer of our “relationship”. Now the real question is, can I score the winning goal in a game neither of us realized we were playing?
JETT is available now:
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New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author Sawyer Bennett uses real life experience to create relatable stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From contemporary romance, fantasy romance, and both women’s and general fiction, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone.
A former trial lawyer from North Carolina, when she is not bringing fiction to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to her very adorable daughter, as well as full-time servant to her wonderfully naughty dogs.
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Pause, an all new emotional friends-to-lovers romance from New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott is available now!
An unpauseable new romance from New York Times bestselling, Audie Award winning author Kylie Scott!
When Anna wakes up from a coma after a car crash, she discovers life has gone on without her. Her husband has been unfaithful—with her best friend—and she’s been long since replaced at work. While her old life is a distant memory, her new life feels like an empty shell. Then she meets the stranger who saved her life during the crash, and he changes everything.
Leif Larsen—tattooist, joker, and player—has his own scars thanks to the crash that put Anna in a coma. Helping her move on from her failed marriage, and create a new life, sounds like a perfect distraction. So when he needs a new roommate, he invites Anna to begin her new life with him.
Although their lives may have been put on pause, together they just might find a way to heal.
Grab yours today!
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Leif Larsen lives in a big old brown brick building with a sprawling dogwood out front in a cool urban neighborhood. No one answers when I press the buzzer. But according to the details on the scrap of paper the nurse gave me, I’ve got the right place.
What to do?
The rational response would be to give up and go home. Because hiding out in my childhood bedroom has worked out great so far (and this would be sarcasm). It’s been months since I left the house for anything other than a medical appointment. Weeks since I’ve heard from any friends. Right on cue, my cell buzzes inside my tan Coach purse. I don’t bother to look. Mom requests proof of life every hour on the hour. Not even dinner at the country club can distract her, apparently. Her parental concern for me is well past claustrophobic.
My hand clenches the iron railing against a gust of unseasonably warm evening wind. It’s been a while since I stopped using a mobility aid, but things can still feel tricky. The whole damn world does, if I’m being honest. So many things I took for granted have now been turned upside down.
This is the problem with living the supposed dream. With having an airtight plan for your life. Meet Prince Charming and marry him. Find the perfect job. Only problem is, if something goes wrong, when reality smacks you upside the head and sends you reeling, then there’s no system for putting the pieces back together. There’s no Plan B because it never occurred to you that you’d need one. A lack of imagination on my part, perhaps.
A motorcycle pulls up to the curb and it’s like everything happens in slow motion. Something about this long, lean man just makes time want to stand still. A denim-clad leg is swung over the back of the iron beast. A helmet is removed and shoulder-length hair tumbles free. High cheekbones and perfect lips are framed by stubble and all I can do is stare.
I don’t know if I’m intimidated or turned on or what.
“Can I help y . . .” he begins. There’s the faintest spark of recognition in his eyes.
I continue to stand there frozen.
“Fuck me,” he mutters, stalking closer. His gaze slides over me from top to toe, lingering on the small scars on my left cheek from the glass. There’s no attempt made to hide his curiosity. “It’s really you.”
Nichelle the nurse described him as being a nice young man. Nothing more. Certainly nothing that would prepare me for this. And I dispute “nice.” Ripped denim, battered leather, and a Harley-Davidson motorbike are not nice.
“Never seen you conscious before,” he says, getting even closer.
I just blink.
From beneath the collar and cuffs of his leather jacket emerge colorful tattoos. Lots of them. Blue waves and black letters. Red flames and white flowers. The man is a walking, talking piece of art. My parents would be horrified. Ryan too, for that matter. Not that any of their opinions matter. I need to forge my own path. Go my own way.
“How did you find me?” he asks with a faint frown.
“Oh. Ah.” I smooth down the front of my pale blue midi-length linen summer dress. My dark hair is slicked back in a low ponytail and my makeup is simple but perfect. It’s nice having some things I can control. “One of the nurses from the ICU told me about you and I wanted to come say thank you. But maybe an apology would be more in order?”
For a moment he pauses, then he asks, “Do you want to come in?”
Good question. The fact is, I don’t know. Nor do I know how to do this. Something made obvious when my mouth opens, but nothing comes out. So much nothing for such a length of time that it’s beyond embarrassing. Dammit. Whatever it is I came here looking for, it wasn’t this. Him. Whatever.
“We’ve never properly met, have we?” He holds out his big hand. “Hi, I’m Leif.”
While I’m tentative, he shows no such reserve. Strong, warm fingers enfold my own stiff and cold ones. There’s no attempt at a dominating handshake or groping. He gives my hand a squeeze, just the one gentle squeeze, before setting me free.
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but that would be weird.” He grins conspiratorially and oh my God. Everything low in my stomach wakes up and takes notice. Shame on my lady parts, but the chemical pull of the man is ridiculous. It takes me a minute to remember that I’m a married woman. Mostly. Well, somewhat anyway. I certainly have no business smiling at him like I am. My life is messed up enough without adding a crush. Perhaps it’s in reaction to me, I don’t know, but the mirth disappears and his gaze becomes serious. A little bleak even. “I still have nightmares about that day, you know?”
“Not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t, Anna. Don’t look like that. I didn’t tell you to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I was just . . . sharing.” His expression changes again, a more subdued smile taking the place of the brief hint of trauma. Then he suddenly winks at me all flirty like. I don’t know how to react. I can barely keep up. The man is a whirlwind. “Want to come in and have a beer with me?”
“Are you sure?”
“I just . . . I don’t want to remind you of things you’d rather—”
“I want you to come inside. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
A drink with a pretty wild man that I have a strange sort of history with or a swift return to safety and boredom? I don’t overthink it. I don’t even hesitate. “Then yes, Leif. I’d love to.”
About Kylie Scott
Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013, 2014 & 2018, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.
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My name is Johnny, and I dance with the devil.
Tortured Sinner, the first in the all-new dark Sinners and Angels Duet from Tessa James, is available now!
At least, that’s what I tell people, so they stay as far away as possible.
I never meant to get mixed up with the wrong crowd, but if you want to win a war, you have to get your hands a little dirty.
The plan was to keep myself isolated, until an angel walks into my life that makes my dead heart start to beat again.
She’s sweet and innocent, and everything I shouldn’t want, but I can’t seem to stay away.
It’ll take everything I have to resist the magnetic pull between us, but what if Claire is the salvation I need?
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Something visceral convinced my legs to move, to go after this girl who I don’t know. It wasn’t a creepy stalker kind of thing. But more of a she just got here and might get lost thing. A strange rush of protectiveness washed over me when I saw her leave the building and venture out into the world. I already got her to hate me, and that alone might be all the protection she needs, but what if something else happens? Why is my brain telling me it’s my responsibility?
If I just confirm she makes it to wherever she’s going, maybe that will be enough.
I keep a natural pace while maintaining some distance between us, completely walking in the direction away from where I really should be going. I glance down at my watch, verifying that my little detour won’t set me back too much.
The girl’s chocolate brown hair falls down her mid-back, gently swaying with each step she takes. Her arms are crossed over her chest like she might be cold. Or that she’s using it as some kind of barrier from the outside world.
That train of thought makes my protective urges rise even more. I don’t know her name, and yet I have an innate need to shield her from any danger.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Tessa James is the author of dark contemporary romance. She adores writing broken characters you won’t help but fall for on their journey to find themselves and fight for what they love. Her stories are for the hopelessly romantic who enjoy grit, angst, and passion.
When she’s not writing, you’ll find her consuming way too much coffee, making endless to-do lists, and spending time with her daughter and cats in small-town Ohio.
𝑨 𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒚.
The Bold and the Bullheaded, an all-new laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Willow Aster and Laura Pavlov is available now
I don’t do feelings.
Especially not with an arrogant, broody Taylor brother.
But one moment of weakness on an elevator wrecks me.
𝐼 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒.
𝐼 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟.
Yet I find myself wanting to be trapped in a small space with Spence Taylor again.
And don’t even get me started on his day job.
The man can do just about anything with those hands.
Those big hands, and er—big feet.
Emma Kingsley is the most infuriating woman I’ve ever known.
Stubborn, arrogant, and sexy as sin.
She drives me crazy.
And she’s determined to hate me.
The funny thing is—I can’t get enough.
But the woman has more walls up than the royal palace.
Lucky for her, I make a living tearing down walls.
And I just found my favorite project.
Time to renovate, Queenie.
**𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟐 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆.𝐃. 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐝!**
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I’ve just hit the button for the twentieth floor when a black stiletto and an exquisitely shaped leg stops the elevator from closing.
My eyes get snagged on her curves and the blonde hair that falls like a lemon paradise over the front of her black suit. And up to the hateful eyes that are shooting venom at me.
“You.” She spits it out like I’m a bad taste in her mouth.
I fold my arms and stare at the woman who has become the bane of my existence since the day I first saw her on another elevator. In another building. The last building my brothers and I renovated.
She folds her arms and stares at me with the same disdain I’m throwing her way.
“Is it really my curse to be stuck in elevators with you for the rest of my life? Not to mention my favorite pub … and holidays with my family?” My words are crisp and to the point.
She scoffs at me. Scoffs. Her perfect red lips are shaped in the foulest scowl known to man.
“Old Solemn,” she says.
Her ignorant nickname for me.
I roll my eyes.
“It appears you are stuck with me, yes. As long as you’re living in the same building as my BFF,” she says, looking down at her nails as if they’re more important than me. They match her lips. “It seems your brother and my Mya are going strong, so—” she shrugs, “you’ll have to get used to this face. Sorry. Not sorry.” Her eyes brighten and I know she’s going for the kill. “Can’t handle the heat, get out of the fire.”
I’m happy my little brother Jesse is in love and all that shit, but since his girlfriend comes attached to this spoiled wench in a supermodel disguise who chooses every opportunity to snipe at me, it has created a complication.
I don’t like complications.
“She-devil,” I say under my breath.
Her eyes narrow. “Stay on your side of the elevator,” she snaps.
I shake my head as we go up, the floors creeping slower than a sloth trying to stand up.
“Not a problem.” I stare straight ahead. “Although you certainly didn’t mind when w—”
Her hand flies across the elevator and covers my mouth. “Stop. Right. There. We agreed that was a one-off that shall not be named.”
Willow Aster is the author of USA Today bestseller, True Love Story, In the Fields, Maybe Maby, Fade to Red, Lilith (formerly known as Whore), 5,331 Miles, Miles Ahead, The Kingdoms of Sin series, and co-author of The End of Men series with Tarryn Fisher. Willow loves nothing more than writing the day away—anywhere will do. Her husband and two children graciously put up with her endless daydreaming; otherwise, the writing would never get done. She’s also an avid reader, and has been known to walk, cook, and clean with her nose in a book. She’s lived in Texas, Tennessee, Indiana, and California, but Minnesota has captured her now and doesn’t seem to be letting go. Although shy, this lifelong writer and artist is convinced that the best part of this career for her is meeting and connecting with readers, authors, and all of those in this community of lovers of words.
Laura Pavlov writes sweet and sexy contemporary romance that will make you both laugh and cry. She is happily married to her college sweetheart, mom to two awesome almost grown kids, and dog-whisperer to a couple of crazy Yorkies. Laura resides in Las Vegas where she is living her own happily ever after.
Connect with Laura
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My battle to rescue her body is one thing …
but the fight for her soul will be merciless.
Love & Retaliation an all-new dark and gritty new adult romance from bestselling author J.A. Owenby, is available now!
My truth is gone, stolen by a monster.
The One who trades my father’s life for hers.
Brandon Montgomery is more than a psychopath. He’s the spawn of the Dark Circle Society and is determined to resurrect it.
Men of his kind have no conscience. No soul. No goodness left. Now, he’s taken my fiancée.
I’ll do anything to get her back.
Even if it means I become the man I never wanted to be.
The kind who fights evil with bloody knuckles and shards of glass.
The man who’ll fight for her and keep on fighting.
But when I find the woman I love, something’s not quite right.
The spark in her eyes is gone and so are her memories.
When her captor makes a move we couldn’t predict, our world spirals out of control.
My battle to rescue her body is one thing … but the fight for her soul will be merciless.
Love & Retaliation is a dark, gritty, and emotional new adult novel. It’s recommended for readers who enjoy darker romance. May contain triggers for some readers.
** This is not a standalone novel and Love & Vengeance MUST be read first.
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Conflicted feelings churned inside my gut. Dad might have been on his way home, but Gemma wasn’t. She had just entered the gates of hell with Brandon.
Rubbing my face with my hands, I slowly inhaled while I attempted not to let the dam break and allow my turbulent emotions to reach the surface. I’d already gone a round with Pierce, and I couldn’t do any more stupid things. If anyone would be able to bring her home, it was Pierce and his team, and deep inside, I knew it.
“What does this mean exactly?” I shoved my hands in my front pockets, trying not to fidget.
“I don’t know yet. We have to wait and see.” Sutton enlarged the map and remained quiet.
I released a frustrated sigh and ran my fingers through my hair, praying to a God that I no longer believed in that Gemma would return to me safely.
“The car is moving in the opposite direction and fast.” Sutton glanced up at me. “We’ll know if it’s Franklin in a few more minutes.” She squeezed my hand, a glint of hope in her eyes.
Pierce pulled his cell out of his jeans pocket and tapped the screen. I hadn’t ever seen him this wired before, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone loved Gemma. No longer hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, or watching the sunshine glint off her red hair …those ideas threatened to paralyze me, and I shook my mind free of them. “
He’s six miles away now.” Sutton looked at Pierce, and he nodded.
He tapped his phone screen and stared at us. “Brian, it’s Pierce Westbrook. I need your help.”
I listened as Pierce lined up a rescue team across the state lines and filled Brian in on Dad and Gemma’s details.
Pierce hung up. “He’ll call me in a few minutes with confirmation that Franklin is safe. Additional men will search the site of the exchange for any clues too.”
There was nothing else I could do except wait. With each passing second, the air thickened and closed in, condensing the room’s small space. I distracted myself by imagining that I was singing. Music had saved my life more than once, and I needed the protection of it now more than ever.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock in the office was the only sound. I found myself holding my breath, willing Pierce’s phone to ring again. When it did, I nearly cleared the desk and answered it myself.
“Yeah.” Pierce closed his eyes while he listened, not indicating who was speaking to him or what he was hearing.
“Thank God.” Pierce’s intense gaze landed on his wife and me. “So, you’re going to airlift Franklin to the Sacred Heart in Spokane?”He paused. “Thank you for your help. I’ll let you know what we find out next.” Pierce disconnected the call and peeked at his watch. “They have Franklin. He needs medical attention. I don’t know how bad his injuries are, but he managed to drive, which is a good sign.”
Air whooshed out of my lungs, and I doubled over. Placing my hands on my knees, I leaned my butt against the wall for support.
“I’ll reach out to Janice,”Sutton offered. “I suspect everyone will want to be at the hospital when Franklin arrives.”
“Sutton?” I straightened. “How much longer before the serum kicks in and we can locate Gemma?” My voice cracked with fear.
She pursed her lips, her eyes flitting to the clock on the wall. “Eleven o’clock …tomorrow morning.”
International bestselling author J.A. Owenby grew up in a small backwoods town in Arkansas where she learned how to swear like a sailor and spot water moccasins skimming across the lake.
She finally ditched the south and headed to Oregon. The first winter there, she was literally blown away a few times by ninety mile an hour winds and storms that rolled in off the ocean.
Eventually, she longed for quiet and headed up to snowier pastures. She now resides in Washington state with her hot nerdy husband and cat, Chloe (who frequently encourages her to drink). She spends her days coming up with ways to torture characters in a way that either makes you want to throw your book down a flight of stairs or sob hysterically into a pillow.
J.A. Owenby writes new adult and romantic thriller novels. Her books ooze with emotion, angst, and twists that will leave you breathless. Having battled her own demons, she’s not afraid to tackle the secrets women are forced to hide. After all, the road to love is paved in the dark.
Her friends describe her as delightfully twisted. She loves fan mail and wine. Please send her all the wine.