She was supposed to find her fated mate under the full moon.
Instead, she is ordered to bond with a stranger.
The full moon after Rhia’s twentieth birthday was meant to be the happiest night of her life. Among wolf shifters, it is the first full moon after turning twenty when a wolf might finally recognize the mate chosen by the Moon Goddess.
Rhia has always hoped that mate would be Caleb, the boy she has loved for years.
But when an entire neighboring pack is brutally wiped out, everything changes.
Fearing they could be next, the Red Moon Pack forms a desperate alliance with the powerful Silver Lake Pack. And alliances between alpha families require one thing above all else: a mating bond.
As the only unmated alpha daughter of Red Moon, Rhia’s future is decided for her. Instead of discovering her fated mate under the coming full moon, she is ordered to form a bond with Jalen, the future alpha of Silver Lake.
Leaving her home, her family, and the life she thought she would have.
Jalen never wanted a forced bond any more than Rhia did. But protecting their packs comes before everything. What neither of them expected was the instant pull between them, a connection that feels far too real to be political.
But if the Moon Goddess had a plan for their bond all along, it may be because the Dark Pack is not finished yet—and their own may be the next target.
“Race you to the rocks?” Rhia points to the little collection of rocks well off the shoreline.
“They are further away than you think,” I try to warn her from experience, but she has already taken off.
As I soon realize, she is not only an excellent fighter but also a very good swimmer. I love it. I am a decent swimmer myself, but it is not exactly my strongest form of movement. Plus, I am still a little slower than usual. At least that is what I am telling myself as I try hard to keep up with Rhia.
I am right behind her, but there is no hiding my labored breathing when we reach the rocks. On warm days, my friends and I love to climb onto the smooth stones and sunbathe. Unfortunately, it’s not quite warm enough for that yet.
Unlike me, Rhia is not even a little winded, and I admire her strength. “You’re an amazing athlete. I can’t wait to see what you can do without the necklace,” I grin at her.
‘Oooh, well she’s hot!’ Hunter’s voice comes through the mind link, and I let out a growl. Turning to the tree line behind me, I easily spot his wolf in the bushes.
‘Leave now, or I will end you! This is your future luna!’
‘Jealous, huh? Relax, man, I was just going for a quick hunt. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.’ His wolf actually gives me a wink before he turns around.
“Are you coming in?” As I turn back around, Rhia is already swimming away from the shore.
We head back at a slower pace, leisurely swimming next to each other.
“Do you think they would mind if we skipped the communal dinner tonight?” Rhia asks.
“Not in the mood for a crowd?”
“Not really. It’s just all a little much,” she shrugs, then adds quickly: “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I am looking forward to spending more time with your pack. Just not quite yet.”
“You need some time to process everything, I get it.”
She gives me a questioning look when I reach for her hand before I get up, pulling her with me. The contact sends tingles up my arm. “We need to head back and talk to our parents if we want to avoid dinner. They might whip us and throw us in the dungeon, and I don’t think I could take that.” I wink at her to make sure she knows I am joking about that last part.
She chuckles, gripping my hand a little tighter. We are silent on our way to the packhouse, and it feels good to be walking with her like this. Her smaller hand fits into mine just right.
When Ann D. Lang isn’t writing, she can be found with her family and her cats — who treat everyone in the house as their personal servants and are entirely unbothered by deadlines. A lifelong lover of paranormal romance in all its forms, from vampire courts and fae kingdoms to witch covens and wolf pack politics, she has spent years falling in love with other people’s worlds — and one day simply decided to open the doors to a world of her own.
Haven’t tried Lisa Renee Jones yet and want to get a taste? Read the first eight chapters of her new release, Lucifer’s Sin, FREE in Lucifer’s Beginning! Get your copy here: https://www.lisareneejones.com/lucifers-beginning.html
Title: Lucifer’s Sin
Series: Lucifer Trilogy #1
Author: Lisa Renee Jones
Release Date: March 22, 2022
ABOUT LUCIFER’S SIN
They call him Lucifer for his wild side.
She called him the man she loved, she called him Luke. But then he proved he really is worthy of his nickname. Or so she thought. Nothing is as it seemed back then.
A man with a past. The only woman he has ever loved. Someone wants her dead. That someone is about to find out that yes, he is Lucifer when you dare to threaten his woman. Even if she doesn’t call herself that now. He does. But all he ever really wanted to be was Luke—the man worthy of her love.
I open the door. Ana’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. The instant she sees me, her lips part, and her eyes travel my body before jerking back to my face.
“You have to put a shirt on. You just—have to.”
My cock is pretty damn pleased with this reaction that says she wants me, but my brain is working overdrive, and for once, overpowering that plaything in my pants. “Why, sweetheart? You want to kiss the scar you gave me better? It’s too late for that. Or maybe, you want to lick me all over? You already did that. You don’t get to do it again. Not after trying to kill me.” I walk to the end of the desk where I left my gun, pick it up, and then lay down on the ground at the foot of the bed. My phone goes to the floor. The gun sits on my gut.
Ana moves to the end of the bed, and sits there, staring down at me. “What are you doing?”
I notice she avoids my name when she would normally do otherwise. I guess she just can’t figure out who I am anymore. Well, I know. And Lucifer fits. She knows, too. “I’m catching a few z’s, and protecting you from anyone that comes in the door. If it so much as jiggles, I’ll sit up and shoot.”
“It’s been a hellish night and morning. Lay on the bed. You can have the side closest to the door. Please.”
I glance up at her. “Sweetheart, if I get in that bed with you, I’ll have you naked in about thirty seconds, and while we’ll both enjoy that, you’ll just hate me for it after. Not to mention we won’t get any sleep.”
“I could say a lot of things to that response, but I probably shouldn’t. We’ll put pillows between us.”
“If you think a pillow will stop me from getting naked with you, you might have been right when you said you never really knew me, Ana. That was right before you shot me, right? I told you. I want to fuck you. I don’t want to sleep next to you.”
She buries her face in her hands and groans a frustrating sound and then glowers at me, all sexy and way too damn hot for my own good. “Fine, Lucifer. Sleep on the damn floor. Just do what you want.” She stands up and walks to the side of the bed before climbing on top.
She tosses a pillow down on top of me. I grab it and stick it under my head. “For the record, me down here and you up there is not what I want. It was never what I wanted, Ana. It’s just who we are now.”
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I know. “
That’s all she says and I want more. But then, I’ve always wanted more when it comes to Ana. And more was never enough.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones writes dark, edgy fiction including the highly acclaimed Inside Out series and the crime thriller The Poet. Suzanne Todd (producer of Alice in Wonderland and Bad Moms) on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense.
Prior to publishing Lisa owned a multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine. She lives in Colorado with her husband, a cat that talks too much, and a Golden Retriever who is afraid of trash bags.
I believe that there is one person in this world that can both break us and make us whole. One person who can love us more than life can hurt us. With this comes deep, intense passion, and a burning connection. But in turn, that person can destroy us, cut us, make us bleed in ways no other ever could. They have power over us.
For me, that one person is Dash Black.
He walked into my life in a rush of sunshine, in the darkness of heartache and uncertainty. We were broken apart, and whole together. He healed me. I believed I did the same for him. Until the past became the present, and every moment of suffering in his life consumed him. Instead of seeking refuge in me, he pushed me away. As the famous quote from an unknown author says, “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours; if it doesn’t, it never was.”
I’ve set Dash Black free. Now, I wait.
When I Say Yes is the third and final book in the Necklace Trilogy.
Dash carries me to the bedroom and lowers me to my feet at the end of the mattress. I reach for him, and I can feel his need to feel my hands on his body, but instead of caving to that burn, he catches my wrists again. “Not until I say you can touch me.”
Defiance rips through my body and my chin tilts. “And if I touch you anyway?”
“Then you won’t feel my hand on your ass, baby. Or anywhere else.” He drags me closer, aligning our bodies. “You know what I want. Tell me. What do I want, Allie?”
“Control,” I say without hesitation, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in my voice that I cannot tame. Just as I know I will never tame Dash. And the thing is—I don’t want to. In fact, I want the opposite. I want him unleashed. I want him wild and free.
“Are you going to give it to me?” he presses. “Can you trust me that much, Allie?”
Trust.
That’s the monster that torments each of us in our own minds and yet, we want it from each other, we demand it be given blindly, irrationally perhaps, but it doesn’t seem to matter. So much about how Dash and I approach each other is irrational and yet somehow, we make sense. And so I say, “I already do.”
He turns me to face the bed, one hand cupping the side of my neck under my hair, the other on my waist, his hard body at my back. Dash leans in close and says, “I can be demanding, Allie.”
My mind flashes to the night of our fight back in Nashville, when my hands had been pressed to the front door of our apartment, his hand on my throat, him behind me, thrusting into me. “I know,” I whisper, my skin flushing with the memory and because it’s the truth, now I dare add, “I like it.”
“Do you?” he challenges.
“Beyond reason,” I whisper.
His fingers flex on my neck, seconds ticking by before he replies with, “I used to think I wanted to scare you off, Allie.”
“And now?”
“Now, I pray I can’t.” His teeth scrape my shoulder, rasping roughly.
I suck in a breath at the rough, erotic nip that borders on a bite. He cups my jaw and drags my head back to his shoulder, just enough to angle my mouth to his and lower his to mine. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try,” he adds. “Nice guys are gentle, Allie. You need to know that I’m not a nice guy.”
“If I’d wanted nice, I would have walked away before we ever started calling me cupcake which was almost the moment I met you, Dash.”
It’s a joke about the nickname I’ve earned with him, but he doesn’t laugh or smile. He brushes his lips over my lips. “You taste like you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“And you taste like you talk too much, Dash Black.”
He lingers there a moment, his breath rushing over my lips with a promise of a kiss that doesn’t come. Instead, he says, “No more talking. Knees on the mattress, baby.”
The conclusion to Allie and Dash’s trilogy. Yes, you need to read books 1 & 2, hence why it’s called a trilogy, in order for this book to make sense. You need to meet Allison and Dash and what they’ve gone through that has taken them this far. Don’t read further if you haven’t read books 1 & 2.
We finally get to know who the other Allison is and how she fits into this story. Her and Allie are definitely different, besides having the same name and kinda looking like each other.
This story, well really the whole trilogy, was a 3-day read for me. I think I started and finished a book before bed each night – which lead to some long nights. But this was definitely worth it. In reading this story, we learned more about Dash, the other Allison, Tyler and Dash’s big blowup and why they aren’t “friends” any longer. Although I’d probably call them frenemies, of a sort.
Long story short, all 3 books are out, there’s no reason for you NOT to start and finish this trilogy!
5 stars!!
ABOUT LISA
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones writes dark, edgy fiction including the highly acclaimed Inside Out series and the crime thriller The Poet. Suzanne Todd (producer of Alice in Wonderland and Bad Moms) on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense.
Prior to publishing Lisa owned a multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine. She lives in Colorado with her husband, a cat that talks too much, and a Golden Retriever who is afraid of trash bags.
Love Next Door, an all-new sweet and endearing romance from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is now live!
When Dillion Stitch left her hometown, she had no intention of going back. But when her brother gets into trouble, Dillion reluctantly agrees to return home to take her place at the family business.
Being back in Pearl Lake after all these years feels familiar, but also brings a few surprises. She’s quick to notice that someone new has shown up at the cottage next door. Dillion gets more than an eyeful when she goes to check out the newcomer and meets Donovan “Van” Firestone—her beloved neighbor’s grandson—in all his unclothed glory.
Having gotten off to a rocky start, it’s not long before they begin bickering with each other all over town. All that back and forth inevitably sparks an undeniable attraction. But Dillion’s family has issues, Van’s family resents him, and neither Dillion nor Van feels truly at ease in the small town. For these Pearl Lake exiles, home isn’t just where the heart is—it’s where things get complicated.
I turn on the flashlight and trudge through the brush and past the campfire, which incidentally has been left unattended. It’s down to a smolder, but Van has left out hot dog sticks and a bag of buns.I keep going, toward Bee’s front porch and the blinding spotlight. Standing in front of the cottage is Van. Shirtless. Sweaty and shirtless. The bright light shines directly on him, accenting the dips and ridges, the smooth planes of muscle.Van is ripped. Probably because he spends a lot of time at the gym, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. He lifts his ball cap from his head and runs a hand through his deliciously sweaty dark hair before he flips his cap around and replaces it, backward this time.I roll my eyes at myself. What the hell is wrong with me? Deliciously sweaty. “Hey!” I bark.He startles and the hammer in his hand goes flying, but he was on the back swing, so it heads in my direction. I sidestep it, and it manages to miss me by about six inches. He spins around, eyes wide as they land on me. “What the fuck?”“Do you realize what time it is?”“Do you realize that you scared the living shit out of me and I could’ve hurt you, or myself?” He motions to the hammer lying on the ground next to me.“Wouldn’t that have been a pity,” I snap.“What the hell is your damn problem?”“You.” I point a finger at him. “You are the problem. It’s after ten. There’s a bylaw in place around here that stipulates all construction takes place between the hours of seven a.m. and nine p.m. from June to August, and you’re violating that. And for what? It’s not like whatever you’re doing is going to matter when your damn plan is to parcel out the property!” I’m yelling now, and heaving. And my nipples are peaking under the white tank I wore to bed. I hug myself to hide them.“This is the second time you’ve said that. What the hell are you talking about?”“What do you mean, what am I talking about?” I flail for a second and then cross my arms again. “You called me about it. Bee wasn’t gone a couple of weeks, and you were already asking about acreage and subdividing. It doesn’t take a genius to know what your plans are!”“I don’t even know what you mean by subdividing, and I never called you.”“Yes, you did!” He’s just so infuriating.“No. I didn’t. Believe me, I’d remember dealing with someone as hostile as you.”“I am not hostile.”“Really?” Van props a fist on his hip. His narrow hip.I follow the movement, which leads my eyes to his waist, that enticing V of muscle dragging my gaze down farther. Of course, because my brain is a jerk, the image of him naked pops back into my brain.As if he’s reading my mind, his brow arches. “You’re picturing me naked right now. Aren’t you?”“What? No!” My eyes snap back up to his.“Yeah. You are.” His lip curls, somewhere between a smirk and sneer, his tone needling. “You were staring at my crotch, probably thinking about the last time you visually molested my junk. Is that why you stopped by? To check me out again? This whole fake phone call thing is an excuse for you to come back over here and get a look at the goods again.” He runs a hand down his chest.“You’re an egotistical asshole. I realize that this might be some kind of fun holiday for you, and that you’re probably sleeping until noon every day, but some of us have to be up at the crack of dawn. Bylaw hours are seven a.m. to nine p.m. Next time you break them, expect to get a visit from the sheriff.” I spin around and stomp over to the extension cord, find the place where it’s joined to the lamp, and break the connection, submerging us in darkness. “Next time I won’t be so nice about it.”“Hate to break it to you, but you weren’t very nice about it this time,” he calls after me.It drives me crazy how easy it is for him to push my buttons.A few seconds later I hear an oof and a clatter, which means he’s tripped over something in the dark. I smile to myself. Hopefully this time he’ll get the message.
About Helena Hunting
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She’s writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
How far will the ruthless billionaire go to seduce his beautiful young neighbor? He inhales deeply as he watches me, the depths of his eyes searching mine for a connection. He wants me, and it terrifies me. I have never felt an intensity of attraction like this before, maybe because he is a man, and I’ve only dated boys. “I’m not staying here.” I say with all the coldness I can muster. His eyes harden. “The time for games is over, Anna.” In one swift motion, he catches me at the waist and swings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, slamming the truck door and making his way to the house through the whirling snow. They say trust your first impression…I should have trusted mine when I first saw him… Time comes to a standstill for a moment as I get sucked into the dark, molten gaze of the most strikingly handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. Player or taken, logic brain informs me. Logic be damned for a hot minute. I pause to examine every detail of his sinfully fine face, like a desert cactus taking a long drink after a dry spell. There’s an essence about him that exudes power and confidence, and potentially perilous aggression, giving me the impression that if there was something before him that he wanted, he would take it. It doesn’t take him long to decide that I’m the one he wants to take… I was perfectly happy being single, calling the shots with my own business, in fact, that was my directive. Little did I know just how strange a turn my life was about to take, when I get caught in an early spring blizzard, whilst visiting my newly inherited cabin in a state 16 hours north of my home. And little did I know how far a handsome stranger would go to protect me from the storm. It’s a lot y’all. Before I have so much as a chance to dig into my hefty stack of vacation novels, I am sucked into the world of a man, known by the locals as ‘the Tsar’, and his crazy dysfunctional family and their secrets, and his psychic housekeeper, who has made some unusual predictions. Suddenly, I’m missing the life I carved out for myself down south, or am I? I was perfectly happy being single until I meet Mr. Tall, Dark and Alpha. And now? All bets are off…
BENEATH THE BILLIONAIRE is a standalone super steamy romance with a Happily Ever After. Hope you enjoy
He’s no southern gentleman, that’s for damn sure…
He inhales deeply as he watches me, the depths of his eyes searching mine for a connection. He wants me, and it terrifies me. I have never felt an intensity of attraction like this before, maybe because he is a man, and I’ve only dated boys.
“I’m not staying here.” I say with all the coldness I can muster.
His eyes harden. “The time for games is over, Anna.”
ANNA: So, my intent is to claim my inheritance while I’m on vacay, and immediately, I’m thrown into the arms of a man known to the locals as, ‘the tsar’. I literally fall and hurt myself in front of him like some damsel in distress. I’ve been burned in love before, and I’m not doing that again.
Valentin decides to take it upon himself to protect me, though I strongly suspect he has ulterior motives. I see how he looks at me, like I’m his prey. He’s a domineering man who thinks he knows what’s best for me, and so hot. But that’s beside the point, I’m an independent woman, and I decide what’s best for me. I didn’t count on him being so cunning, though. He invited me to his mansion, and knew he wasn’t going to bring me back home, for ‘my protection’. Yeah, sure.
But then I decide to steal his truck, since I don’t like being told what to do, and after that, it’s World War 3, except that the enemy wants me in his bed. And he has secrets.
VALENTIN: My psychic housekeeper foresaw her arrival. I’m not sure I believe in Senora Madora’s visions, but then Anna shows up. She’s a wild fiery beauty, and it’s love at first sight. I make no apologies for what I’m about to do in my pursuit of her. I lost my first wife to cancer, and I’m well aware of the brevity of life.
I fall, hard. I want to possess her, body, and soul. Problem is, I’m older, have a crazy dysfunctional family, and a younger brother with boundary issues, and I can’t tell her my biggest secret, because I risk losing her. I’m good at getting what I want, but this time, I’m not sure that getting the woman of my dreams is right for her. And I don’t think I can let her go. But then sometimes, life has a way of throwing curve balls. And some giant ones are about to happen.
Jessie is a stay-at-home soccer mom with a love for adventure and all the beings (peeps and fur beasties) in her life. Prone to romantic daydreaming, flights of fantasy and a lover of research, she decided to pursue a career in writing fiction, after various twists and turns along the way. She’s got a degree in Physics and met the ‘ONE’ at a local airport. He was a mechanic; she was getting her pilot’s license. They’ve been together for going on 27 years and have since added two beauties and 7 beasties to their family. Jessie is very experienced at failure, but being a soccer mom, she’s used to getting dirty. She believes people need sexy love stories with strong heroines and heroes, and hopes you will enjoy reading about them, as much as she loves creating them. Oh, and also, Jessie is her pen name, she loves creating new identities because at one point, she wanted to be an actress.
Today we are celebrating the release of the first book in the Stadium Series by S.A. Clayton. HARD BALL just went live and you can grab your copy now. The next book in the series, Curve Ball, will release on June 14th.
Hardball- Noun: A forceful uncompromising method employed to gain an end.
Meeting Harper Stevens was never my plan. She crashed into my life and knocked me on my ass.
The only problem? She wants nothing to do with me.
Josh Anderson is everything I didn’t want in my life. He was persistent, cocky and even worse? The star third baseman for the Hawks.
After my fathers death I swore I’d never be a part of that world again. And yet here I am thinking about a man who lives and breathes baseball. I can’t seem to shake him or the memory of the way his hands felt on my skin.
Can I set aside my fears or will my past ruin everything?
I love me a sports romance – especially if they involve baseball. And I love when a story has me hooked from the jump and reading frantically to figure out what happens! And this book did that! I wanted to know why Harper wasn’t going to date a professional athlete.
I truly enjoyed that Josh wasn’t the cocky, stereotypical, arrogant pro athlete. He knew that there were women who want to be with pro athletes but he wasn’t into them. He was actually into the one woman who didn’t want anything to do with him. But he wore Harper down.
Harper knows a lot about the professional athlete’s life and wants NOTHING to do with it. She doesn’t want publicity, she doesn’t want anything to do with Josh. But Josh just wears her down with his consistency and caring.
There is a cliffhanger and so I’m DYING for the next book!
5 stars!
About S.A. Clayton:
S.A. Clayton lives in a small town outside of Toronto, Canada with her husband and her scary large collection of books that seem to take over every room.
She has worked on both sides of the publishing industry, both in a bookstore and for actual publishing companies. Although she loved both for different reasons, she found that writing was her true passion and has spent the last few years breaking into the industry as best she can.
She is a lover of all things romance and began her writing journey in her late twenties. Since then, she has immersed herself in the romance genre and couldn’t be happier.
When she’s not writing or reading, she enjoys binging a great Netflix show (Stranger Things anyone?), baking (because who doesn’t love cookies!), and spending time with her family.
Left at the altar on her wedding day, Autumn Elizabeth Ashley, angry and broken hearted takes off on what should have been her Honeymoon with her Maid of Honor and best friend Nadia Havarti.
Autumn tries to just drown her sorrows, but Nadia won’t stand for it. Instead, she helps Autumn to remember what single is supposed to feel like. So, when a strapping mountain of unidentified local man shows interest, Autumn takes a cue from her BFF with the repercussions to match.
Dalian Emeterio grew up between worlds. His family moved from their Pious and beautiful home in Georgetown, Cayman Islands to the United States when he was just a boy. Memories of his birthplace lead him to dream of one day opening a place on the island letting him take care of the parents that worked so hard for him.
One winter night while working at a Rum Point Hotel he meets Beth and the sparks fly leading to an explosive New Year. Waking along on the sand he thought he’d never see her again.
Ten years have passed, he is now the owner of The Georgetown Heirs, a chain of intimate hotels along the most popular Port of Calls in the Caribbean, Bahamas and the Western Atlantic.
Faced with the woman who left him on the beach, he’s about to find out that getting what you wish for always comes with strings.
Can two broken people grow together, or will they tear each other apart?
Bad Luck Club, an all-new, not-to-be-missed, opposites attract standalone romance in the laugh-out-loud Asheville Brewery Series by New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank and A.R. Casella is available now!
A grumpy man. A recovering people-pleaser. And the secret club that brings them together.
Lee Buchanan is a hot mess.
Turning one’s father in to the feds can do that to a man.
He had nothing to do with his father’s Ponzi scheme, but he’s blacklisted from commercial real estate all the same. Which is how he ends up in Asheville, working at the brewery he inherited with his siblings. He’s salty as hell, and he doesn’t care who knows it.
Until the gorgeous, intriguing Blue Combs issues the most peculiar invitation he’s ever received: Come to the Bad Luck Club. We can help you.
It sounds like a cult or, worse, a group of Mary Sues, but Blue is different from any woman he’s ever met. For better or worse, he’s drawn to her.
Just like she’s drawn to him, even if she has no intention of going all in with another man. She’s been there, done that, twice, and the life she’s built for herself is too important to risk.
What starts as one person’s desire to help another turns into a connection too powerful to be denied—but can two broken people grow together, or will they tear each other apart?
She turned into Bear’s long drive, and Lee cursed a little under his breath. “We’re here, aren’t we?” “This is it. You’re looking at the Cluster.” There was plenty of parking for everyone, thankfully, but the people who lived closest to each other usually carpooled for meetings. That made it hard to tell who’d already arrived, but it looked like they were among the last. She couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing. She parked the car and turned to Lee, who was giving her a pointed glance. “Cloister? That isn’t helping dissuade me about the whole cult thing. The whole cabin in the woods thing doesn’t seem like a great sign either.” “Not cloister. Cluster, like cluster…fudge.” A smile played on his lips. “Let me guess, your father didn’t like it when you swore.” “Of course not,” she said, smiling back. “It wouldn’t be ladylike.” “And why, may I ask, do they call their own house a cluster—” he gave her a wicked look, “—fudge?” “I guess you’re about to find out.” They both unbuckled their seat belts, but he made no move for the door. Gazing at her, the gold flecks in his eyes like mica, he asked, “Blue, what part of last night convinced you to break things off with Dan?” She didn’t answer right away, her heart still choking her, and he smiled at her—a sexy, unreserved smile—the kind that made her wonder how many people he’d looked at this way. “Radical honesty, remember?” Her whole body hummed like a tuned instrument. It hadn’t been like this since the beginning with Remy. And if that wasn’t a thought to wake her up . . . Except it didn’t jar her enough. Because she found herself leaning toward Lee a little, as if caught up in a whirlwind of his making. As if those vines were cinching their very bodies together. “Because I wanted you to kiss me,” she admitted. She silently added, Because I felt more connected to you in one night than I did to him in two months… But Lee was reaching for her then, his hand weaving into her hair, pulling her to him, and those lips that had driven her to distraction the night before, the ones that had hovered over her neck, were suddenly on hers. They were warm and commanding, and Blue felt lost to the longing that unfurled within her, to the heat that ignited in her core. He’d probably meant it to be a soft kiss, exploratory, but his hand burrowed deeper into her hair, pulling her closer, and she found herself moaning as his tongue swept into her mouth. She wrapped her hands around his arms, mindlessly trying to bring him closer, needing to feel him against her like she had last night, like she’d dreamed of, and suddenly he was lifting her up onto his lap. They were facing each other this time, and she had a flash of what it would have been like if they’d talked like this last night—looking into each other’s eyes, bodies locked together—and the intimacy of it was more arousing than anything she’d ever experienced. She was the one who kissed him this time, reveling in the fact that he’d given her control by pulling her on top of him, until she caught a glimpse of the bench Cal had made, beneath the willow tree in the Cluster’s back yard, and oh God, what the hell was she doing?
About Denise Grover Swank
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten ho uses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
A.R. CASELLA is a freelance developmental editor by day, writer by night. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, two dogs, and a variable number of fish. Her pastimes include chasing around her toddler, baking delicious treats, and occasional bouts of crocheting. Any Luck at All, co-written with New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank, is her first book.
Today we have the blog tour for M.M. Koenig’s Waiting for Someday! Check it out and be sure to order your copy today!
Title: Waiting for Someday
Author: M.M. Koenig
Genre: Contemporary Romance
About Waiting for Someday:
Danger is nothing new to Bri McAndrews. After an accident that almost took her life, Bri has to mourn the loss of a relationship that should’ve been forever. Trey Donovan broke her heart and moving on has been nearly impossible, especially when threats start piling in. Bri has an idea of who’s pulling the strings, but finding the proof is presenting to be a whole new set of problems.
The guilt of risking Bri’s life is a living entity in Trey Donovan’s gut, eating away at him with every forbidden word, touch, emotion. But that isn’t enough to keep Trey from having Bri any way he can—even if it means causing her a world of hurt in the process.
Trey will stop at nothing to keep Bri safe, but he’s already taken a gamble with her heart. When push comes to shove, will Trey and Bri rise from the ashes of everything they’ve become, or will they continue Waiting for Someday?
M.M. Koenig enjoys being active and has a variety of interests that coincide with her passion for life. Always one to try new things, she has acquired a variety of skills. Her sarcastic nature and multitude of experiences tend to find their way into her novels.
When she has free time and isn’t writing, she spends as much time as she can with friends and family. To fuel her soul, she is constantly looking for new music, movies, and books to keep the writer’s block at bay.
“Debra Anastasia’s writing is imaginary, dark, comedic, and the perfect sexy.”— Tijan, New York Times Bestselling Author
Swimming in Sparkles, an all-new not-to-be-missed, New Adult romance that brings you a modern day Robin Hood tale filled with emotion from Debra Anastasia is available now!
My name is Ruffian. To remember my mom, I want to change the world.
I’m going to do things wrong to make things right.
That’s okay, because I’m going to jail.
I know it.
I’ve planned for it. I was always going to end up there.
For now, I need a cover story.
A cover family.
A way to hide from the suspicion that always finds me.
Teddi Burathon is the perfect shield.
Popular, friendly, sassy. Good.
She’s everything I’m not.
And I’ll use her as a pretty distraction so no one sees me coming.
My heart is dead and I’m a bomb waiting to detonate.
Most people want to build a future.
I flopped around until I really, really wanted a glass of water. Or a bottle. Just anything to get me hydrated. I stood and went to my door, squeaking it open slowly.
No one told me I had to stay in my room, but that was a sense I was getting. I should be settled for the evening. Rocket the dog was nowhere to be found, so I assumed she was with one of the family members. The young cat that Gaze and Pixie had claimed was theirs was on the couch and covered his eyes with his paws when I walked past him.
In the kitchen I had to open three different cabinets until I found some glasses. They were all special liquor glasses. Wine, rocks, beer glasses—they would suffice, but their normal cups weren’t in an obvious spot.
I went to the fridge and skipped the ice so I wouldn’ make a racket. When my glass was halfway full, a person lurking in the doorway caught my eye. I started and my hand jumped, the glass shooting up out of my hand. Teddi lurched forward and put out her hand. I did the same. I managed to get a grip on the glass as Teddi’s arm swung wildly and she poked me in the eye with her pinkie.
“Oh shit.” I slapped my left hand over my throbbing eye while catching the glass with my other hand.
“Oh my God. I am so sorry. Are you okay? It felt like I stuck my finger in Jell-O right then.” She shivered and closed her eyes.
I opened my other eye while squeezing the injured one tightly. “It’s okay. I have two. And I like a challenge.”
“Seriously? Like, I can drive you to Urgent Care or wherever. You might have a scratched cornea and that blows. I hated when it happened to me.”
“Someone poked you in the eye in the middle of the night?”
“No. I had an accident in cheer. Our bottom was a little off her game and I wound up knowing what four inches of her finger felt like in my brain.”
“Man, that’s not the sentence I want to hear wrapped around the words of four inches of finger in.” I staggered over to the counter and set down my glass.
“What did you want to hear?” She was smokin’. Forcing me to tell her about my dirty mind.
“Nothing. No worries. Why are you up in the middle of the night?” I slumped against the counter.
“It’s time for my two a.m. fudge bar.” She moved to the freezer part of the fridge and yanked it open. She had the ice cream she sought set up like a dispenser. She plucked out a cold one and had the paper off of it in a practiced motion.
Here I was feeling spoiled for having water from the dispenser. Girlfriend had her own private ice cream truck in her kitchen.
“You set an alarm for that or something?” I lifted my chin in her direction.
“It’s a built-in notification” She tapped her temple with her phone. “How’s your room downstairs?”
Stupid luxurious. Spacious. Private. Alone. Sad.
“Great. Bed’s a little soft.” I attempted to open my poked eye. Couldn’t do it.
I watched as concern zipped her smile into a straight line. “You really might have some damage there.” She took a step toward me.
If she only knew. The damage I had and the damage I intended to do.
“Let me see.” She popped the whole ice cream into her mouth and clamped her lips around it. Then she was in my space on her tiptoes. She put her hands on my face like we’d known each other our whole lives. I flinched a little and she settled a hand behind my neck. She pried my closed eye open with her fingers. In the meantime, she made sucking noises around the ice cream. It seemed like she might actually be in distress, so I grabbed the Fudgsicle out of her mouth. She licked around her lips and squinted some more.
“I can’t tell crap. It’s too dark.” She stepped back and took her ice cream from my hands.
She did some very thorough licking of the melting parts as she made her way to the light switch. She turned it on and returned to me. “I need to set this down.”
She opened the cabinet next to my head and took out a bowl, setting the fudge bar in it.
Then she resumed her position and clamped onto my neck and eye again. “Sorry, I am so used to being in people’s personal space between makeup and cheer.”
She seemed to be apologizing for putting her chest against me and blowing her sweet breath onto my face.
It was all making things happen in my pants. Too much. As she looked intently at my eye, interrogation-style, I had to stare at her. She had to be the prettiest human I’d ever seen in person. Her eyes were set up like blue starbursts and her skin was beautifully smooth. I wanted to lick it like she was my ice cream treat. She let go of my eyelid and it snapped shut.
“It’s red and bloodshot.” She pointed to the kitchen chair.
I lumbered over and sat down, grateful for a place to hunch over my growing problem.
Teddi went back to the freezer and came back with a cold pack. “Tilt your head back a little.”
I did as she asked again, and she straddled my leg, again holding my neck. Sure, my eye felt like it still had her finger in it, but all this closeness was really having me and my pants hoping she was going to kiss everything and make it better.
She gently pressed the ice on my closed eye. “Keep it closed. The eye really does heal itself a lot. You just need to give it time.”
I grunted in acknowledgment. As I peered at her through my working eye, she rooted around in the kitchen. Her tiny sleep shorts and tank top were my own personal cable channel. She used the water from my glass—whatever was left—and then refilled a water bottle with a straw in it.
“Here, now you can drink easier while your eye does what it has to do.” She held the bottle near my face. I took it out of her hand.
“Thanks. You send mixed messages to weirdos in your kitchen. Attack, first aid, apply water.” I took a deep suck and realized I was super thirsty.
She went back to her ice cream and opened a drawer until she came up with a spoon. Her snack had become a cold soup and she ate it as such.
I hit the bottom of the bottle with a loud slurp.
Teddi grimaced. “Damn, son. You were parched.”
She grabbed my bottle and filled it again. The little kindnesses she was showing me were getting embedded into my skin. Where I was from, how I was raised, kindness was hard to find. I could go whole days without getting treated like a person by anyone besides my mom.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry I turned you into a pirate. The good news is, I have an eye patch from last Halloween for you.” She pointed at my eye with her spoon.
“Then I’m all set.” I was able to get half the second water bottle down before I was truly done with feeling thirsty.
Meet Debra
Debra creates pretend people in her head and paints them on the giant, beautiful canvas of your imagination. She has a Bachelor of Science degree in political science and writes new adult angst and romantic comedies. She lives in Maryland with her husband and two amazing children.
Forced together. Fated forever.
When Ann D. Lang isn’t writing, she can be found with her family and her cats — who treat everyone in the house as their personal servants and are entirely unbothered by deadlines. A lifelong lover of paranormal romance in all its forms, from vampire courts and fae kingdoms to witch covens and wolf pack politics, she has spent years falling in love with other people’s worlds — and one day simply decided to open the doors to a world of her own.
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About S.A. Clayton:
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