Tate & Low's story. I'm loud, I'm proud, and I like to bust balls in my spare time. At least, that's what Low Parker would do. But, she is just a mask, one that I have perfected over years of running. I am Willow Knoxx. Master of deception, secrets, and lies. I am the girl your mother told you to stay away from, and the girl your father fantasized about. I have been running for years, always looking over my shoulder. Now, the mask that I have perfected is about to disappear, and everything I have done to keep myself hidden is about to be revealed. The minute the door slammed, I was on my feet. Taking three more large gulps of the poison in a bottle, I held back the gag before gripping the neck of the bottle tight and throwing it against the nearest hard surface. Fragments of glass splintered and shattered across the carpeted floor like a blanket of glittering confetti. I laughed sarcastically. Welcome to the real world: where girls drank malt whiskey, where liars and cheaters were rife, and where your life is held in the hands of a single text message. Welcome to my hell. I stared at the glass fragments on the floor, watching as they glistened with moisture from the remaining whiskey. I looked around the quiet house, the one my mother and I had never really turned into a home, knowing full well that we’d eventually have to leave. There were no picture frames housing family photos, there were no handmade ornaments from her little girl. There was nothing, nothing to say we had been here for six years. There were no memories here, only the ones that haunted us in the darkness of the night. With the thought weighing heavy on my mind, I dived into the cabinet of alcohol, coming across my old friend. Jack Daniel’s. “Hello, motherfucker. It’s been a while,” I taunted the bottle, watching as the amber liquid sloshed around the bottom of the bottle. Ripping off the cap, I sucked in a mouth full of the foul tasting shit, hissing as I gulped back the vomit that was quickly rising up my throat. I took another large gulp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I ventured up the staircase on shaky legs. The alcohol already had me buzzed, but I didn’t want buzzed. I wanted completely fucking annihilated, inebriated, and comatose. It was the only way to get rid of the rising guilt. After negotiating the staircase, I stumbled across the hallway, making my way to my childhood bedroom. I laughed at the thought, not so much a childhood when you’re on the run from it. I slumped my body against the door, turning the handle with one hand, bringing Jack to my lips as I did. I stumbled into the room with a loud thud, Jack almost slipping through my fingers. “Slippery little fucker tonight, aren’t you, Jack?” I winced. This was when Willow came out of her shell, alone and… pretty damn wasted. I didn’t want to be her. I wanted so desperately to be Low Parker, not who I was. The text message I received had sparked this, the need inside me just to break lose, to remember why I turned into Low. I hated Willow; she was nothing more than a poisonous memory, a part of the past that was now creeping up and tainting everything within its path. S.K. Hartley is a mother, wife and a writer. Based in the not so sunny North West of England you can find her either glued to her computer desk, in the public library (Yes, they do still exist!) or floating around her favourite authors books signings. S.K. Hartley has an unhealthy obsession with coffee, chocolate and retro computer games and a healthy obsession of stalking indie authors. HOSTED BY:
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Little White Lies (The Girlfriends #1) In Little White Lies, Book # 1 of the Girlfriends Series âeighth grader Rachel Scott finally has the perfect boyfriend. Heâs good looking, athletic and wealthy. The only problem is he doesnât actually exist. Rachelâs escape into her fantasy world worries her parents and they insist she meet with the school counselor. Frustrated with her life and without her best friendâs approval, Rachel heads down a dangerous path, looking for love in all the wrong places. Little White Pills (The Girlfriends #2) In Little White Pills, Book #2 of The Girlfriends Series -Tenth grader Steph Baxter has it all, perfect looks, perfect grades and a perfect life. Sheâs a model high-school student and a member of the cheerleading squad. But in her quest for excellence, she makes dangerous choices. Soon her simple solution becomes a complex problem. Follow Steph and her best friend Rachel as they cope with Stephâs unexpected journey. Can Steph find support before itâs too late? Little White Magic (The Girlfriends #3) In Little White Magic, Book #3 in The Girlfriends Series â Tenth grader Rachel Scott is sent to work at a remote summer camp with her best friend Steph. Hoping to find a boyfriend, she enlists the aid of a Tarot card reader. The cards lead her on a journey filled with unexpected twists and turns. Will the girlsâ friendship survive as Rachel becomes obsessed with her mission to save a new friend? Little White Castles (The Girlfriends #4) All Rachel wants is to unravel the mystery of her missing mother. Why did she disappear over a decade ago without saying goodbye? With the support of her friends, Steph and Dylan, and the guidance of her Tarot cards she must decide if the explanation lies in a faraway town. A family emergency and her motherâs odd behavior threaten to disrupt her quest. But the Tarot and a new friend with psychic powers gives her courage to find the answers that really matter. Can the truth transcend Rachelâs fantasies? Little White Lies Chapter 1 My nameâs Rachel and I invent stories. My parents call me a fibber â a liar, to be exact. Lying makes me feel better. To me itâs just pretending. A designer home, trips to Maui and Disney World and, of course, my imaginary boyfriend, Walker Johnson. We met at summer camp. My imaginary summer camp. âLiar, liar pants on fire,â I hum as I push open the door to the school counselorâs office for my weekly meeting. Her small room has one dirty window. Books and black binders line the shelves in the corner. The smell of sweat fills the room. Four boys from my class have just finished talking with Ms. Paxton. Probably fighting at lunch again. I sigh as I slump into my usual place at the round table. Ms. Paxton leans forward, clasping her hands together. I try not to stare at them, but I canât help myself. Theyâre spotted with freckles and veins that pop up. I never want to have hands like that even when Iâm old. But she has a kind face and I like her. Last week my best friend, Stephanie, and I saw Ms. Paxton jump into a Mercedes convertible after school. A good-looking man was in the driverâs seat. We almost died. Who would have thought Ms. Paxton could be hot? âRachel, howâs your week going?â âGreat.â Itâs only Tuesday, not many things have gone wrong yet. What does she expect me to say? âNot much to report, Ms. Paxton.â She leans back in her chair and waits. She knows me. After all, Iâve been coming to her sessions since the beginning of the term. My parents make me. They say I have issues. Some days, like today, my issue is being in this room. Great!! âTell me about your weekend.â âSame old, same old.â I wince when I realize I sound like my dad. Ms. Paxtonâs eyebrows rise. Thatâs her signal that she needs to hear more. âWell, I hung out with Steph. We burned some CDs, watched dance shows on TV and ate junk food. I made a ton of popcorn. We added half a pound of melted butter and Parmesan cheese. Then we finished with bowls of chocolate ice cream and some vinegar chips.â Ms. Paxtonâs eyebrows lift another inch. The last time we talked, I whined about my weight. Iâm supposed to be following Weight Watchers, but I canât seem to stick to the program. Why shouldnât I reward myself every once in a while? âI got another great e-mail from Walker.â âWhat about?â âHe wants me to join him in Vermont next summer.â âReally?â I listen carefully to the tone of her voice. I think sheâs still a believer. Little White Pills My fate is the Land Of Perfection. Perfect grades, perfect body, perfect life. But Iâm faltering. Iâm not who you think I am. I stroke the side of the plastic vial of little white pills, considering what to do. I twist off the cap, pop one down my throat and gulp some water. Itâs all good. Theyâre prescription, you know. Not mine, of course, but legal. Just something to take the edge off my day. I tuck my secret deep in my pocket and get ready for school. Iâm the girl you love to hate. I have it all. Brains, looks, friends. My best friend Rachel says so and sheâs right about everything. So Iâd like to agree with her â but most days, about this particular topic, I think sheâs wrong. So what if Iâm pretty, get straight Aâs and have a ton of friends? None of that makes me feel good. Iâm only in the tenth grade and Dad and Mom keep asking what I want to do with the rest of my life. My life. I tell them I havenât a clue. What I do know is I plan to be ultra-careful about the path I choose. I wonât follow my dad. I donât want to spend my life hating what I do. I donât want to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and think âIs this all there is?â I need to discover whatâs out in the world at my own pace. Thatâs the problem. My parents are fast-track kind of people, looking for the best, wanting the most expensive stuff. Every day they push, push, push. Push themselves. And push me. My grandpa wanted Dad to be a lawyer. So he went to Harvard Law School. But now heâs a busy orthodontist in Portervale, north of Seattle. I have no idea why he changed his mind. Now he spends all day making smiles sparkle. One day I wish he would make me smile. My mom used to be a model. But then she got married and had me. I wasnât part of her plan. I think sheâs still recovering from the fact she got pregnant. Now sheâs a home stager. She gets to spend other peopleâs money to make their houses look fabulous in order to sell them. The owners then move on to their next fantastic place. I think her work is boring. Everything is super organized and the sofas look like you shouldnât sit on them or theyâd bruise. The designer kitchens shine but never have a yummy smell. So Mom fakes it. She uses a mini Crock Pot and chucks in some gingerbread goop. This aroma makes the house feel homey so clients will fall in love with the place. I suppose it works because sheâs always busy. She loves âdecluttering and neutralizingâ a home, as she calls it, to help buyers see its full potential. But she should look carefully at her daughterâs potential. Me? Iâm Steph, Child Number One of the Baxter household. Actually, Iâm the one and only, and this is my story. Little White MagicRachelNormally I love a Tarot card reading, but today something is wrong, wrong, wrong. Madame Arianaâs azure eyes skewer me like a laser.I shrink back in my chair. âWhat do you see?âIn the silence, her silver bracelets jingle as she places twenty-two cards in a circle, her long fingers caressing each one. I know what sheâs doingâthe Soul Mate spread. Iâve studied the cards throughout my senior year. She points to the card in the middle.âThe King of Wands,â she says in an ominous tone.âWhat does that mean?âShe spins one of her five rings slowly with her left thumb. I stare at the largest ring, the one with the dragon. My stomach plummets. Iâve always hated dragons. Thereâs something about the blood-red eyes that is beyond scary. I make an effort to refocus.âDoes that card represent the past?ââBe patient, Rachel. The cards will let you know.âIâm here to find out if Channing really loves me or if this is just a summer romance. I guess Iâm nervous because heâs my very first real boyfriend. Iâm not counting my neighbor last year who I thought might be interested in me. Channing could have any girl in Camp Winnoski. Every day I wonder why he chose me.The neglected cottage has thick purple curtains and black walls. Three plump crystals dangle from glossy beaded strings in the window. Good. Three is my lucky number. A dusty stench thickens the air. Even though itâs late in the afternoon, itâs so dark outside it feels like midnight. Another summer storm is brewing.Madame Ariana talks about the past. But I donât want to think about my mom abandoning me, dad always working, changing schools. Not today. I want her to tell me about Channing. About the future.âYou are ready for a deeper connection with your soul mate. But I see confusion and conflicts. The King of Wands will be your mentor. He will inspire you. In time, harmony will rule.â She leans across the scarred pine table and whispers, âYou will be two jewels polishing each otherâs rough edges.âThat sounds cool, but â¦The lights flicker and thunder rolls in the distance. Raindrops drum on the tin roof, making my heart beat faster. Madame Arianaâs blue shawl rises and falls over her bony shoulders as she arranges a new spread. âAh, the King of Wands again.âI study the card. The regal figure is sitting on a fancy throne, wearing a robe and crown and holding a wand with a bunch of leaves sticking out the top. I wish I could remember its significance. Iâll check it out later in my favorite Tarot book.âBut heâs reversed,â I add.âYes.â Madame Ariana stares at me. âThe energy of the card is blocked.âWonderful. I peek at my watch. My best friend, Steph, is waiting outside. She must be wondering whatâs taking so long. I want Madame Ariana to hurry, because I need to shower before dinner. The line for the camp washrooms is ugly if you donât arrive early. But I want to hear that Channing is The One!She leans forward and speaks carefully into the microphone on the table. âThe vision is still taking shape.âI get to keep the tape. When I return to camp Iâll have to dredge up a tape player. That will be a pain. Camp Winnoski has almost zero technology. Weâre allowed brief emails to our parents in the office on Sunday afternoons with mega supervision. What a drag. Iâm still in withdrawal from saying goodbye to my iPad and iPhone. I mean, thatâs punishment!As Madame Ariana taps the card, I notice the tattoo on her wristâa snake curled around something I donât recognize.âYes, still taking shape,â she murmurs. âThe cards say you must confront your strengths and weaknesses. Show neither doubt nor fear. The vision indicates you will be strong.ââWhat vision?â I suddenly have my own vision. I can see my hard-earned money evaporating.âYou must put forth effort and legwork,â she continues.Hmm, sounds like school. And this is my summer to be free. Well, sort of. Working as a camp counselor isnât exactly a holiday.Annoyance chokes my brain. âIs my boyfriend, Channing, the King of Wands?â Obviously, I have to be specific.âDoes he inspire you?âWell. All I know is that heâs one hot guy who is attracted to meâand Iâm wondering why.Madame Ariana delivers vague suggestions and I try to concentrate. She isnât giving me answers and this session is costing me a lot. My dad and stepmom would come unhinged if they found out that a large part of my salary is going to a Tarot reader. I can hear my dadâs voice: âRachel, I canât understand why you believe such nonsense.â I love him, but heâs way too practical. He doesnât believe in coloring outside the lines, if you know what I mean.Raindrops splatter and slide down the grimy windows, leaving spidery trails. Canât Madame Ariana read the disappointment on my face? Surely if she understands the universe, she knows what I want to hear.âTrust your instincts. The answers will come.â She switches off the recorder and hands me the tape. âIâll tell you more next time.âOr not. I pay her sixty-five dollars and leave. As I open the door, sunlight and fresh air stream into the room. The storm is over. Steph, wet hair clinging to her face, grabs my hand and we begin the thirty minute hike back to camp. Our sneakers squish through the muddy puddles on the winding path in the Vermont forest.âWhat took so long? What did she say?ââShe told me lots of things about myself I already know. There were clues about the future, but she didnât tell me what will happen. Just that there will be conflicts.â Simply saying that word makes me shudder. I reach inside the pocket of my cargo pants and touch my special comfort stones. My tourmaline for compassion, my amber for protection, and my malachite for spiritual guidance.âOh, that sucks. I know you wanted to hear about Channing.âSteph grabs me around the waist. I put my arm around her and we lope along like we used to when we were little. We were experts at three-legged races.âThereâs something that really bugs me. Apparently I will meet my mentor, the King of Wands. Madame Ariana wouldnât say who it is. But I canât afford to go to her again. I wonder if sheâd lower her price if I cleaned her cabin. The place is disgusting. It smells like my brothersâ socks.â In the middle of a Saturday morning, two days after Christmas, my dad launches a thunderbolt into my world. My mom, who evaporated when I was four, has sent me a letter. As he hands over the promised message, his eyes brim with tears. He moves closer on the couch in our family room and gently squeezes my shoulder. Dread saturates my brain now that the moment is here. Maybe reading this is one giant mistake. All I know is that once I open the letter, my life will change forever. Finally, Iâll understand why she disappeared. Iâve imagined every possible reason. But now is the moment of truth. Taking a gulp of air, I rip the envelope open and study the shaky handwriting. Forcing the words from my throat, I read aloud so that my best friend Steph and my stepmom Diane, who are sitting on the other sofa, can share in the news. My darling daughter Rachel, I tried many times to connect with you. But I couldnât do it. Years have passed, I know. I donât expect you to forgive me. I canât forgive me. But...now, Iâm ready to explain. Iâve spoken with your father. Hopefully he can arrange the details. Right now, Iâm living in Prickly Pear Junction, Arizona. Iâm looking forward to seeing you. Fiona I stare at Dad, searching for his reaction, and he pulls me into a hug. Memories from the past float through my mind. âRachel, I thought this letter was important and that you should know where your mother is living. She phoned me last week. Weâve talked, but I havenât made any firm plans. I wanted to speak with you first.â His eyes are red and he turns away to wipe his face. I slowly re-examine the note, inspecting each line for a clue. A bubble of annoyance expands in my brain. This letter tells me nothing. Absolutely nothing. How can she do this to me? Iâve waited years to hear from her and now all I have is this meaningless bunch of sentences. Why didnât she say something that would help me? Steph shoots across the room and pulls me to my feet. âIâm so sorryâI know you expected more.â âYeah,â I mutter as I race upstairs to my bedroom, abandoning the letter, just like my mother abandoned me. Steph follows, grabs my shoulders, and gives me a shake. âTalk to me, Rachel. What are you thinking?â âI just want to understand. After twelve years of waiting to hear something, I need to know whatâs going on with her. Is that too much to ask?â I collapse onto my bed and pound the pillows in frustration. âI donât want to wait. I want to talk to her today.â âRachel, get up.â I turn over and look at her through bleary eyes. âAnd donât think that food will be the answer to this. Iâm not always starving.â Well, not always, but most of the time. âI know you. Eating wonât solve this problem. But what can I do to help you feel better?â She crosses her arms and gives me one of her serious, no-nonsense stares. I sit up slowly and hug my knees. âHereâs the thing. I thoughtâI mean I really, really believedâIâd discover something new about what happened when she lived with Dad.â âMaybe today isnât the day.â âYouâve got that right,â I say on a sigh. âI canât imagine their conversation. My momâs disappearance hurt him, too. Even after all these years, some days he canât hide his resentment.â Steph sits next to me. âListen, nothing has really changed. You knew she was out there somewhere.â âBut things are different now. Fiona or my motherâI never know how to think about her. I canât remember much of my life with her. Now she wants to meet me. Why? After all these years! What does she want from me? I thought I was ready for this moment. I dreamed about this moment. But now that itâs here, Iâm a mess.â âWell, at least we know your mother is somewhere in Arizona.â âRight. Dad thought she was living in New Mexico. But I guess not. All Iâve heard is that she moves around a lot. She works in restaurants. Thatâs all I know.â âDonât you want to meet her? This is just nerves, Rachel. Youâre in shock.â I shake my head. âI donât know what to think. Iâm stunned that she wrote to me. I mean, I wanted her to write, but itâs going to take a while to sink in.â âHey, turn around. How about one of my famous neck massages?â As Steph vigorously kneads my tight muscles, I let my mind wander. What would happen if I went to Arizona? What would that accomplish? So, I would meet my mother. Then what? Iâve always considered the meeting, but Iâve never thought about what would happen next. âRachel, letâs look up this Prickly Pear place and find out some information. That might help you make up your mind about whether or not you want to go.â Steph slides her phone out of her pocket. âIâve never heard of the town.â She taps the name into Google. âWoo-ee! Check this out. You wonât believe it. Youâre totally going to adore this.â âRead it to me.â I flop back onto the bed and close my eyes. Stephâs voice drones on and on about the vegetation, the weather, the hiking trails, and the Jeep tours available at Prickly Pear Junction, just outside of Phoenix. Yeah, yeah. Suddenly my eyes fly wide open. Wide, wide open. âRead that part again, please.â âSure. âThis sleepy town is more new age than Sedona. Tourists will discover opportunities for aura readings, crystals, vortex information, flower essences, the Tarot, and other occult practices. Explore the events of the past and their influences on the present. Open your mind and spend your holiday in Prickly Pear Junction.ââ âSteph,â I shriek. âIâm meant to go there. I know it. I know it.â Jodie Esch lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, dog, cat, chickens and alpacas. When not living in her fictional world, she spends her time as the âWaste Management Queenâ picking up manure on the property. She is passionate about words and is obsessed with writing and reading. HOSTED BY: Michael Gallo found his calling in life – he wants to kick ass. He works at Inked as a piercer, but spends his mornings training and dreaming of winning an UFC championship. Michael is the road to achieving his goal when a chance encounter alters his world forever. The title is no longer enough – he must capture the woman of his dreams. Dr. Mia Greco is dedicated to saving lives and helping those less fortunate. She doesn’t have time to meet Mr. Right with her busy schedule. She buries herself in her work and helping humanity. Fate steps in and sweeps the carpet out from under her. She tries to deny the pull to him, a man that uses his fists for gain, but the universe won’t let her walk away so easy and Michael isn’t one to take no for an answer. He has a secret that may rip them apart. There are forces bigger than them at work; drawing them in and making their worlds collide – not letting either one of them walk away. Hook me Men of Ink 2, Introduces you to Michael Gallo, The fighter of the Gallo family, and younger brother of Joe aka City from Throttle me. I can tell you that when the Gallo boys fall in love, they do it hard and fast. They have absolutely no problem letting the world know as long as little sister Izzy doesn’t get involved! The story follows Michael and Mia, two very different people on two opposite paths in life, one that pierces and punches his way through life, while the other repairs the damage. Mia, an ER doctor with no patience for violence and no time for anything but her job, patches up the sexy Gallo one night in the ER. Feeling an instant connection, Mia narrowly escapes Michael’s advances that night. Fate however, always has a way of shoving what we didn’t know we needed right in our paths when we least expect it! That’s exactly what happens with Michael and Mia when the run into each other in the club. Of course There are challenges in every relationship and When Michael’s crazy friend with benefits decides to stake her claim in a GRAND way, Mia has to decide if her first impression of Michael was who he really is, or is he the man she’s gotten to know and possibly fallen in love with. Michael has finally found something\someone worth fighting for, and he’s not going to give her up without a fight! "Mia...I won't break your heart. For the first time in my life, I've found something worth fighting for, someone more important than me." I loved, and I mean LOVED the fact that Mia is a head strong, opinionated, pain in the a**, with a great job, and financial stability as opposed to some other heroines. In my opinion, Mia saves Michael in this book, not the other way around! Hook me also gives you a glimpse into how City and Suzy are doing! It was nice to see them seamlessly incorporated into this book without them stealing the show! Mama Gallo is hoping for grandbabies as usual but she also showed a different side of herself in this book! You get to see her love and respect for her children when she helps Michael with a sticky situation. Izzy of course is still stuck in the role of annoying lil sister, always reminding the boys that “there’s too many cocks for it to be fair!”, but she’s not only that, she’s a fierce protector of her brothers, ready to step in to defend them at any turn! All in all Hook me did just that, it Hooked me, and it will do the same to you! I can’t wait to read the next book telling Izzy’s story! The Inner Room – where submissive dreams become reality Dr. Marissa Roberts takes charge and saves lives by day, but spends lonely nights embracing fantasies of erotic submission. When a friend encourages her to explore her submissive longings, Marissa agrees to an evaluation to become a member of an exclusive local BDSM club. With that act, a door is opened to Marissa, and her long-standing fantasies may just become reality. Cam Wilder, a nurse at the same hospital as Marissa and an experienced Dominant in his private life, has no idea the prospective slave girl he will assess in The Inner Room of The Power Exchange will be his reserved co-worker. Sparks of desire ignite into flames of passion as Cam recognizes in Marissa the heart of a true submissive yearning for freedom, and she sees in him a Master who speaks directly to her soul. Their potential BDSM paradise is threatened by the unwanted attention of an arrogant bastard who refuses to take no for an answer. His secret surveillance and devious plans lead to terrifying results that threaten to destroy not only Marissa and Cam’s careers, but the bonds of trust and love they’ve forged together as Master and sub girl. “You must be Marissa. Welcome to The Power Exchange.” Marissa looked up to see a man of medium height with massive arms, barrel chest and a shaved head. He was wearing a black leather vest and matching leather pants, every visible bit of skin below his neck covered in tattoos. “Hi,” Marissa said. The man held out his hand, which engulfed Marissa’s as they shook. He appeared to be in his late forties, and while he wasn’t an especially tall man, he looked solid, with bulging, muscular arms and a thick neck. He was wearing a black T-shirt that stretched tightly over his barrel chest. His large nose was crooked, as if it had been broken, perhaps more than once. His eyes were dark and penetrating, and Marissa could feel the power in his gaze. “I’m Jack Morris.” His voice matched the rest of him, deep and strong. He spoke like someone used to being obeyed. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.” Marissa glanced at Tony, who sat with her and Dana at the same table they’d occupied the last time she’d been to the club. Tony lifted his glass in Jack’s direction. “All true,” he grinned. Smiling at her, he added, “You’ll be in excellent hands, Marissa. The trainer who will assess you tonight is regarded as tops in his field—a real pro, and with good reason.” He turned back to Jack, adding, “Marissa won’t let you down. This one’s a keeper, Jack, you’ll see.” You’ll see? Was Jack going to be her trainer? Marissa bit her lower lip. Where Tony had been understanding of her fears, and had let her go at her own pace, she strongly doubted Jack would go as easy on her. While Jack was certainly compelling, he was also rather formidable, and not what she had visualized. In truth, she’d been harboring a fantasy that she would be trained by someone like the tall, dark and handsome Master Mark from the training videos. Don’t be stupid. This is the chance of a lifetime. Tony and Dana say he’s the best. He owns the club, after all. He has to know what he’s doing. She realized they were all three staring at her. “If you’ll come with me,” Jack said, holding out his hand. Marissa glanced nervously at her friends. Tony was smiling encouragingly at her. Dana put her hand on Marissa’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Good luck,” she said softly. “I know you’ll do great.” Marissa pushed her chair away from the table. Excitement warred with trepidation inside her as she took Jack’s offered hand. She was ready. She wanted this. More than that—she needed this. Jack stepped to the bar and lifted a panel, gesturing for her to follow him. With a last look at Tony and Dana, Marissa stepped behind the bar. The bartender didn’t even glance up as they passed her. They walked down a wide hall past a kitchen to a set of double doors. Tony turned the knob on one of the doors and pushed it open. He stepped back, ushering Marissa in ahead of him. The room was larger than she expected and looked something like Tony’s playroom, except there were more pieces of equipment, some of which she recognized, some she didn’t. In addition to a St. Andrew’s cross, several spanking benches, a whipping post, a medical exam table and a set of stocks, there was an interesting series of rubber strips in one corner strapped to a metal frame. The apparatus was shaped like a huge spider’s web, with cuffs and chains dangling from various parts of it. Nearby were two cages, one upright with cuffs attached at the upper and lower corners, and one low and oblong, with newspapers spread on the bottom and what looked like a dog’s water bowl set inside it. Muted lighting was provided by a series of sconces set high along the perimeters of the room. Marissa noticed several racks, some with floggers, some with canes, some with wicked-looking single tail whips of various sizes, the largest a coiled bullwhip that looked like a shiny-skinned, sleeping snake. Marissa jumped a little when Jack closed the door behind them. “You can put your things over there.” Jack pointed to a small set of cubbyholes, not unlike those found in a kindergarten classroom for book bags and lunchboxes. “My…things?” Marissa said faintly. She knew she would have to get naked—Dana had warned her. But now that it had come to it… Jack glanced sharply at her. “Yes. Everything. Strip naked. Oh wait, leave on the heels. You will wait for the trainer on that dais, there.” He pointed again, this time toward a raised dais in the center of the room with a set of three wooden steps set along its side. …wait for the trainer… Did that mean Jack wasn’t the trainer? Who was? Where were they? She realized Jack was watching her, his eyebrows now raised, as if questioning why she was still just standing there. Don’t blow this. Do what he says. Remember, you can always use your safeword. “My safeword is lemon,” she blurted suddenly, and then felt herself blushing. Jack’s lips lifted into a half smile. “That’s nice,” he said flatly. “Now do what you’re told.” Marissa tried to swallow, but somehow her mouth had filled with sawdust. She moved toward the cubbies and reached for the zipper of her skirt with trembling fingers. She realized she had left her velvet jacket over the back of her chair in the outer room. She stepped out of the skirt, folded it and set it into an empty space. With a glance toward Jack, she reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. Blowing out a breath, she reached behind herself and undid her pretty new bra. Jack was standing with his tattooed arms crossed over his massive chest, an implacable expression on his face, his eyes trained on Marissa. Just do it, she admonished herself. Nudity was the norm at The Power Exchange. Half the people in the outer room were in various stages of undress, and no one batted an eyelash over it. She was being silly and self-conscious. It was just skin. No big deal. She reached for her panties and slid them down her legs, stepping carefully out of them while still balancing in her heels. She placed the panties on top of her clothing pile and turned to face Jack Morris. His eyes swept over her body, his expression still difficult to read. “Good,” he finally said. “Now get up on the dais.” As Marissa moved through the room on rubbery legs she could feel Jack’s dark eyes on her. She climbed the small set of stairs and stood on the dais, wondering what to do with her arms. As if reading her mind, Jack said, “Stand at attention, arms up, fingers locked behind your neck, feet planted shoulder-width apart, eyes forward. Don’t move until the trainer tells you to move.” Marissa attempted to do as the man had ordered, feeling at once ridiculous and at the same time kind of sexy, naked in nothing but high heels. The position forced her to thrust her breasts forward, and she felt like an object designed to be ogled, which was no doubt the intent of being forced to pose on a raised dais. Oddly, rather than feeling humiliated by being put on display, arousal burned its way through her, spreading into her sex and engorging her nipples. Without another word, Jack turned and left the room by the door through which they had entered, closing it with a small click that seemed to echo in the empty room. Marissa drew in a shuddery breath and released it slowly. Her nose itched suddenly, and she wondered if she dared fall out of position in order to scratch it. Keeping her head still, she managed to glance around the room, wondering if there was a camera or something tracking her movements. She didn’t see anything. Jack had said not to move, but who would know? The itch was now driving her nuts. She dropped her arms and quickly scratched her nose. Shaking back her hair, she once again assumed the somewhat awkward position, her fingers laced behind her neck. The room was cool, but she could feel the prickle of perspiration beneath her arms, and the dampness of undeniable arousal between her legs. She was there on a completely voluntary basis, she reminded herself. She could leave at any time. No one was holding her prisoner. This was just an assessment, and Tony had said she was a natural sub. Not that she needed him to tell her. She knew what she was now, or more accurately, she understood now what she had the potential to become. She was being offered a rare and precious opportunity to be assessed by a top trainer. Marissa heard the sound of a door opening from somewhere behind her. Though she’d been told to keep her eyes straight ahead, Marissa couldn’t help turning toward the sound. Her mouth fell open as she took in the figure standing there dressed in a black muscle T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered along his body toward a narrow waist and slender hips. He wore black leather pants that looked like they were molded to his long, muscular legs, his feet shod in heavy black boots of the Master Mark variety. Marissa forgot all about holding her position. Instinctively she tried to cover her naked body. Her heart was thumping like a drum against her bones while her mind struggled to place the man with these surroundings. His piercing blue eyes moved over her body and settled on her face, and his mouth, like hers, also fell open. They stared at one another for several beats of the loudest silence Marissa had ever experienced. Chapter 1 The naked woman in the video was on her hands and knees, a bucket of sudsy water beside her, a large sponge in her hand. Marissa sucked in her breath as she watched Master Mark lift his heavy black boot and bring it to rest on the woman’s back. The woman’s face was obscured by her long blond hair, but Marissa could feel the sudden tension in her body, though she continued to move her hand in wide circles over the stone floor. Master Mark pressed down with his boot until the woman collapsed onto her stomach on the cold, wet floor. “Why are you here, slave M?” Master Mark asked in his deep, sexy British accent. He moved his boot along her back until it rested on the nape of her neck. The camera moved in for a close-up of slave M’s face, capturing what seemed to be genuine fear in her wide blue eyes. “Because I was a dirty little slut, Sir,” she replied in a tremulous voice. Master Mark laughed. “We already know that, slave. What precisely did you do that resulted in this particular punishment?” He slid his boot to her cheek and then lifted it, leaving a wet streak of dirt behind. Crouching beside her, he stroked strands of blond hair behind her ear and Marissa was struck by the tender expression now on Master Mark’s face. “I—I was touching myself without permission, Sir,” the girl whispered. Marissa sighed and shifted on the bed. She slipped her hand between her legs, her fingers seeking her throbbing clit. Though intellectually she was repelled by the man’s treatment, emotionally she thrilled to it. Her defenses now lowered by her desire, Marissa had to admit in her heart of hearts she yearned to be that naked girl lying on the wet stone waiting for her stern master’s retribution. Master Mark wrapped his hand in slave M’s thick hair and twisted it back from her scalp. She winced but remained otherwise still. “That’s correct,” Master Mark said. “You touched my property without my express permission. Get up.” He tugged her hair to pull her upward. As the woman struggled to her feet, he continued, “Time for part two of your punishment. Stand at attention, hands locked behind your head, legs shoulder-width apart.” The camera pulled back, revealing the long, whippy cane Master Mark now held in his hand. “Twenty strokes,” he intoned. “You will maintain your position, and you will thank me for each stroke.” The slave cast a fearful glance at cane. “Yes, Sir,” she breathed. Marissa could see the tremble in her limbs and the faint sheen of sweat on her face. Master Mark’s cock bulged in his leather pants. If these were actors, they were doing a hell of a job. The camera angle shifted again, giving Marissa a good view of the woman’s back, ass and long legs that ended in very high, shiny black heels. The cane hissed in the air. Marissa winced as it struck the backs of the woman’s thighs. “Thank you!” the woman yelped. Marissa rubbed herself with fingers lubricated by her desire as Master Mark struck the woman over and over, leaving red, angry stripes on her thighs and ass. When the camera moved to her face, it was twisted in an expression that could have been agony or ecstasy. “Oh, thank you, Sir. Thank you! Oh!” slave M cried. Marissa’s mouth was dry, her breath a rasp in her throat, her fingers flying in the wet heat between her legs as the Master with the hard eyes and cruel smile struck the willing masochist on the screen again and again. A warm tingling sensation rose deep in Marissa’s belly, culminating in a shivery burst of sensation as her cunt spasmed in release. Her hand fell away and she closed her eyes with a sigh. She lay limp, no longer focused on the scene still playing on her tablet. When she could rouse herself sufficiently from her orgasm-induced lethargy, she reached for the tablet, where slave M was now on her knees slurping and sucking Master Mark’s huge cock with enthusiastic abandon. Marissa clicked away from the site and closed down the tablet. Her immediate urges satisfied, the usual vague feelings of shame and dissatisfaction began to reemerge in her psyche. Why was she like this? She was a medical doctor, a professional who had always held her own in her romantic relationships. What was wrong with her that she got off watching women be degraded and sexually tortured? Even worse, why did she long with such a deep and abiding intensity to be one of those women? Oh, get over yourself. Marissa heard her friend Dana’s voice in her head. It’s a consensual act. They both like and want what’s happening. Stop beating yourself up for your feelings. If only she could be more like Dana, who was completely comfortable in her own skin and fully accepting of her masochistic tendencies and sexual needs. Maybe if I found the right guy, Marissa thought, not for the first time. Someone who would just know what I want without my having to spell it out. She snorted at this line of thinking. If there was a Prince Charming, or rather a Master Charming, out there somewhere waiting to sweep her off her feet, he sure was taking his sweet ass time about it. Or maybe he just couldn’t find his way to the hospital where she spent most of her waking hours. Pushing these unproductive thoughts from her mind, Marissa reached for her smart phone and set the alarm for five a.m. That should give her time to get to the gym for her workout before hospital rounds at seven. She reached for the lamp and turned it off. Pulling the covers to her chin, she closed her eyes. Claire Thompson has been writing erotic fiction and romance since 1996. With over fifty novels published, Claire recently established hew own publishing venue, RomanceUnbound.com, where all of her work is available for direct sale. Claire’s novels involve the sensual exploration of D/s and erotic romance, as well as the more intense and edgy side of BDSM. Her D/s romances explore the power and beauty of a loving exchange of power. Her darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. Ultimately her work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience. HOSTED BY: Delaney Cooper lives in Concord, Massachusetts with her uncle and aunt, Richard and Sarah Fuller, and their son Aaron. The family purchases and lovingly renovates and restores a historic colonial home. Upon moving in Laney discovers something very unusual and magical about her roomâ¦and comes face to face with someone she never should have never been able to meet. Samuel Bradford is a young man caught up in the challenges facing colonial America. Once Laney and Samuel find each other will the timeless connection be enough to save Samuel and keep them together? âWhen I returned home yester evening and discovered the entry you had written in my journal, I felt my heart would leap out of my chest. I could scarcely allow myself believe you could feel that way about me. I picked this up first,â he said, closing his hand around the cross, âwondering why you had left it. When I read the end of your entry, I knew. I also knew if you had left this for me that you must feel the same, to leave something so precious to you as a gift for me.â âI feel like I belong to you, Samuel, like I belong with you. I donât know how to make this right though,â I said sadly. âWe shall figure it out, my Delaney. Somehow we shall figure it out together,â he said, smiling shyly. âTogether,â I smiled, closing my hand around his. âSamuel, I have to ask, how can you be so accepting of all this? And of what stands between us?â âBecause you made my heart feel things I had begun to think I would never feel, all before I even met you or read your words. To deny that this is real, to deny or question that it is happening or why it is happening would be to deny and question how I feel for you. I do not ever want you to think I am not certain of that, my Delaney,â he said firmly. Lorraine Britt is a fourth generation Native Texan who is also immensely proud of her Louisiana heritage and solid Southern roots. As an enthusiastic lover of the written word, inspiration struck Lorraine and she began to bubble over with her own ideas. Grasping hold of her lifelong dreams, it wasnât long before she was putting pen to paper and letting her fingers fly over a keyboard to bring her own characters to life. When she isnât busy scribbling notes for her next idea you might find her whipping up delicious creations in the kitchen or putting miles on her car on road trip adventures. Lorraine is equally passionate about music, movies and sports. Youâll no doubt find these familiar themes woven throughout her books. Lorraine and her family currently make their home in northeast Texas. HOSTED BY: Releasing July 10, 2014 After centuries of searching, Lawrence has found the perfect person to help him birth a new race of vampires: Jocelyn, the girl he’s groomed to be the most powerful courtesan at the court of King James. Everything goes according to plan until Michael Barwick arrives at court and threatens everything. Michael abandoned his life at sea in order to take his place as Baron of Dover after his brother’s death. Overwhelmed by his duties, he’s eager to leave court until Jocelyn sits across from him in a tavern. The intriguing woman soon has him opening his heart to her, and he’s prepared to fight for a place in her life. Jocelyn’s desire for Michael, the one man who has ever fought past her professional façade to truly love her, threatens her independence. When Lawrence offers her the gift of eternal life, she must choose between the man she loves and the freedom she’s struggled for. Fates Entwined is a prequel and is intended to be read after Haunting Echoes. Chapter One Lawrence admired the amber and gold music box on the parlor mantle while he waited for Jocelyn to join him. A delicate golden elephant twirled as tinkling music floated through the air. The superb craftsmanship impressed even him, and he wondered which of her clients had gifted it to her. Lawrence noticed Jocelyn’s energy brushing against him, reaching out to him, before he heard her steps on the stairs. Her aura enveloped him in its warmth, the strength of its touch bringing a smile to his lips. The approaching young woman was unaware of the magnificence of her energy. Her ignorance made her all the more attractive, as did the fact that she was his. He had taken her raw talents and molded her into his most successful courtesan. “Lawrence, sorry to keep you waiting.” “Not at all, my dear.” Lawrence kissed her on each cheek then held her at arm’s length. “You didn’t have to doll yourself up for me.” Jocelyn’s dark blue dress with black lace trim brought out the shine in her auburn hair. A simple blue ribbon with a golden, heart-shaped charm accentuated her slender neck. A young maid entered with a tea service. Without having to be told, she served Lawrence a cup with two lumps of sugar and a little cream. After handing Jocelyn her cup, the girl left as quietly as she’d come. “How is Anne faring?” Lawrence blew on his tea. The maid was new to Jocelyn’s service and hoped to someday be a courtesan. “Well enough. I don’t know if she’ll make anything of herself, but she’s pretty.” “You should know that it’s not the looks that make the girl.” Jocelyn was beautiful in her own way, but there were plenty of women more attractive than her at court. Her eyes were hazel instead of the more desired blue, she refused to cover her auburn hair with fashionable blonde dyes or wigs, and her bosom was smaller than most men preferred in their paid company. But appearance could only take a girl so far. “She’s eager to learn, but she lacks patience.” Jocelyn took a sip of her tea. “If she’s not suitable, we can find someone else. There’s no lack of girls wanting to learn from you.”Lawrence’s tea was sweet, but it didn’t sate his thirst. He would need a real drink once he left Jocelyn. “Let’s give her some more time. I’ve grown used to her.” Lawrence nodded. “How was your night with the Marquess of Buckingham?” “George was wonderful, as always.” She held something back. There was a way she held her mouth and eyes, as if trying to prevent her emotions from showing. It worked well on clients, but Lawrence wasn’t a client. A decade spent studying her as he’d raised and trained her had attuned him to her physical tics as well as her energy. “He offered to install you as his official mistress, didn’t he?” Jocelyn sighed as she placed her teacup on the table and faced Lawrence. “Yes, he did.” “And you weren’t going to tell me?” “Why would I? I have no intention of accepting.” Of course she didn’t. She would never give up her independence to anyone. Lawrence exclusively held her strings. “Still, I should think something that momentous would warrant at least a mention.” “He knew what my answer would be. If I’d accepted, he would have lost interest. My refusal didn’t appear to dampen his affection. He’ll be here next Tuesday. I’m entertaining a few people to discuss The Pennylesse Pilgrimage by John Taylor.” “Good. I’ll put it on the calendar. Now, why are you looking so desirable tonight?” “I was thinking of going to King’s Head.” “You don’t have to go looking for business at the inn, dear. You’re more than welcome to take the night off. You have a masquerade the day after tomorrow.” It was no surprise that she was eager to exert her independence after having it threatened. The Marquess was a good man who genuinely cared for Jocelyn. He might even love her. He would have seen his offer as security for Jocelyn, but she would only see it as another man trying to control her. She had Lawrence, and he had done a good job of convincing her he was all she would ever need. “I know, but it’s fun. I promise I won’t overwork myself. You need to stop worrying, Lawrence. I’ll be fine. I enjoy the change of pace away from court.” “Then have fun. You’ve earned it.” ••• Lawrence licked Jane’s neck, his mouth watering in anticipation. A gentle pressure in his mouth released his fangs. The razor sharp teeth sank into Jane’s skin, releasing the warm flow of blood. Thicker than water, sweeter than wine, it slaked his thirst. The warmth brought life. Stolen life. Lawrence released her neck. Jane was one of his favorite whores. While Jocelyn’s success afforded her a private residence, his other girls lived in the brothel, servicing the crowds Hampton Court Palace drew. Lawrence had his own home, but he was rarely there. He preferred to make use of his suite in the brothel, where he could keep an eye on his girls and the comings and goings. He didn’t mind Jocelyn’s independence. He wouldn’t dream of using her services himself. She was too important to him. Lawrence kissed along Jane’s breasts until he reached the other side. As always, his victim was unaware of his actions. The venom in his fangs masked the pain. Jane would only feel a light pressure and sucking sensation. Nothing out of the ordinary in her line of work. He descended once again on her neck, taking a little more. Once Jane finished him off, sating more than just his thirst, she swayed drowsily to her room. Lawrence rose. For him, a bed’s only purpose was fucking. He had not slept in more than two centuries. He sauntered to the bookshelf, trying not to think of what he couldn’t have. Selecting the most recent medical treatise, he situated himself in his worn armchair to read. It took effort to concentrate on the words in front of him. Jocelyn was almost ready. He longed to feel her blood on his lips, sliding down his throat, to taste its tangy sweetness. But it wasn’t feeding he craved. No, the feeding would only be a precursor. She would be shocked by the truth of his existence, but he didn’t doubt she would join him. He would pour her blood back into her. Mixed with his venom, it would transform her into a vampire. His first daughter. Caethes Faron is a bisexual, genre-queer writer. Her books are equal opportunity, featuring gay, straight, and bisexual characters. Her bittersweet tales of love and loyalty are just as likely to leave readers in tears as smiles, and her love scenes don't fade to black. She enjoys empowering the powerless and exploring the nature of human relationships, especially in differing power dynamics. All of her books feature adults in adult situations. Foul language, diverse sexual situations, aspects of BDSM, and other things that are sure to offend some people make regular appearances in her novels. Caethes's writing is influenced by her observations of this imperfect world and the flawed characters who inhabit it. She's lived in seven states and is always looking for the next place to call home with her husband and two dogs. She currently resides in Florida. HOSTED BY: On the Internet, secrets never die… Violet can’t imagine anything worse than having her very private, very naked photos strewn across the Internet. Until they multiply like a virus. With her name, address, and phone number attached. And her boss finds out. And a stalker finds her. Violet’s refuge is a rock star known for going through groupies faster than guitar picks. Letting Jayce get close enough to protect her risks exposing her secret—and her heart—because his celebrity could ruin her. Being a nobody is the one thing keeping Violet’s photos from making headlines. And it’s the reason she can never fall for a rock star. Secrets spread like wildfire when a celebrity fans the flames. REVENGE BOUND is a full-length, standalone novel, and a companion to the Tattoo Thief books. It contains steamy scenes and strong language intended for mature readers. Heidi Joy lives in Happy Valley off Sunnyside Road. She swears she did not make that up. Heidi’s career includes marketing, journalism, and a few delicious years as a food columnist. Media passes took her backstage with several rock bands, where she learned that sometimes a wardrobe malfunction is exactly what the rock star intends. You’ll most often find Heidi Joy with her husband and two small kids fishing, clamming, exploring the Northwest and building epic forts in their living room. Find her books over at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Heidi-Joy-Tretheway/e/B00AMPLLO2Goodreads.com/heidi.tretheway and Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/heidi-joy-tretheway HOSTED BY: After years of trying unsuccessfully to conceive a child, Gemma Walsh discovers her husband in bed with another woman. Unable to face his betrayal, she retreats to Priest Lake, where her family owns a small cabin. But Gemma finds that she is not the only one hiding away at the lake to avoid an ugly truth. Growing up, Andrew Monroe had been an intricate part of Gemma’s life but tragedy and misunderstanding shattered their bond, separating them, and they have lived with only their memories of each other for the past twenty years. As they rekindle their friendship, sparks ignite that neither one of them can resist, but the ghosts of the past linger between them, jeopardizing everything that they have worked so hard to rebuild. Just when Gemma feels that she has found her second chance at happiness, she is faced with a shocking truth as her reality spirals out of control. She can’t deny the powerful force that brought Andrew back into her life anymore than she can defy the same force that now threatens to pull them apart. An emotionally charged, heart-wrenching story that will leave you to question the freedom in truth and the existence of fate in its deepest sense. I should have noticed the charcoal-gray Marc Jacobs handbag – from last season, no less – that lay conspicuously on the entryway tile as I crossed the threshold of my eighth-floor condo where Ryan and I had lived for the past six years, or Ryan’s suit jacket which he had worn to work that morning hanging carelessly from a hook of the mahogany coat rack, a family heirloom on his side. Instead, I was consumed with thoughts of how, undoubtedly, this was turning out to be the worst day ever. Making my way directly to the kitchen, I frantically rummaged through the loose papers that were fanned out on the breakfast table, searching for the Hawkins file that I had mistakenly left behind this morning in my mad dash out the door. It would be this day of all days that the board of Hawkins Direct, the telecommunications company that I was representing, would call for an emergency meeting in the middle of the day. The one day that I had the absentmindedness to leave behind a key file in my otherwise flawless and perfectly scheduled world. Tucking the file under my arm, I headed for the door. It was then that I heard it. Muffled voices filtering in from the hallway that led to the master bedroom. My first thought was that someone was in my home – an intruder– which fueled my senses with adrenaline and an inkling of fear. But as I made my way down the hall, one foot in front of the other, scolding myself for not grabbing the magnum flashlight – my weapon of choice – from the drawer in the kitchen, I heard Ryan’s deep voice. I instantly felt a sense of relief, certain that I was not being robbed or worse, that I was about to be attacked, but when I heard a faint giggle, an unmistakable feminine tone; my fear was quickly replaced with a sense of dread. That sick feeling that instantly begins to fester in the pit of your stomach. I was not prepared for what I would find on the other side of the partially closed door that led to my bedroom. The room where I shared a bed with my husband of ten plus years. I pushed the door open slowly, my eyes taking in the bare skin of Ryan’s back and the toned, tan flesh of the small figure that lay beneath him, mostly obscured by his six-foot-four frame. I scanned every detail from the way his short brown hair was being mussed by her dainty fingers to the rumpled duvet spread out underneath them as if they had been in such a hurry they hadn’t bothered to draw back the bedding. The bulge of his triceps, flexed from the restraint he used to hold himself above her as he moved with familiar sounds of intimacy and pleasure. Sounds that I had believed were reserved only for me. I had never imagined another woman eliciting such a response from him. I felt as if someone had ripped open my heart and snared every private moment that I had shared with my husband, dangling it in front of me like a carrot, mocking me. Look what I have. I stood motionless, trying to process the harrowing scene before me. My eyes moved from Ryan’s naked body to the incredulous, open-mouthed expression that he wore when he finally turned to find me standing in our bedroom doorway. It was as if –until that very moment– he had forgotten me. His wife. L.D. Cedergreen has always enjoyed writing. It started as short stories, and later developed into poetry–some of which has been published–and now her first full-length novel. She’s a vivid day dreamer, a passionate reader, and a fan of all music. She is a small town girl at heart. Originally from Washington State, she now resides in Southern California with her husband and two little ones. As much as she would like to call herself a beach girl, she is–without a doubt– grounded by her small town roots. HOSTED BY: Anne Pichette, an eighteen-year-old exchange student living in Texas for one year on a ranch with Rose Walsh who treats her like a daughter, believes her life is perfect. Until, Clint, Rose's devilishly handsome son embeds himself deep within Anne's soul. Finding the courage needed one night to admit her feelings, she pours her heart to Clint only it turns out he's too drunk to remember. A week later having to return to Paris devastated - and pregnant, Anne fully intends to tell him about his expecting child. Her plans are halted due to a letter arriving announcing his impending marriage to another woman, a pregnant woman he loves. Eight years have since passed when Rose appears in Paris to bring Anne back to Texas to help her through her final days battling cancer. With the love Anne has for Rose, she agrees. Also, the time has come to divulge her secret to Clint. That her boy, Max, is in fact Clint's son and Rose's grandson. Clint Walsh, now divorced, might be hardened and embittered but he knows he has a good reason for acting this way. After all, the woman he believed was his true love leaves him with their daughter and never looks back. So how’s a man supposed to handle that kind of treachery? Especially after sharing a beautiful night of lovemaking he’s never been able to forget—or remember clearly. There they were, coming down the ramp! The boy was tall for his age, quite a bit more so than Debbie. His golden hair, much like Annie’s, crowned his head with curls, reminding Clint of his own unruly mass. Unlike Debbie, this kid swaggered rather than walked, which made Clint think the boy felt good about himself. As long as conceit didn’t drive that attitude, Clint favored it over his daughter’s hesitant movements. The woman who waved reminded him of his old friend, if only because she had the same beautiful face. Her hair, she’d worn really long as a teen, was now cut shoulder length and hugged her face with dramatic effect. It made him think of models on magazine pages. With his guts in his throat, he approached and waited for her to take the initiative about their greeting. Why her enthusiastic hug and kisses on both cheeks surprised him, he’d never know. But wrapping his arms around the slight body, feeling her warmth against the ice he’d lived with for so long, started the first melt he’d had in ages. “Clint! How wonderful you look! I didn’t know you’d be here to pick us up. I expected Rose.” Her jabbering stopped at that point and she paled. “Rose?” “She’s fine, a bit tired. So I offered to come and meet you.” Annie nodded and her composure returned. “Max, this is the man I’ve told you so much about.” She put her arm around the shoulders of the boy, who’d held back as Clint approached. The inspection made by the youngster flustered Clint. Senselessly, this lack of composure built unexpected anger. Not liking the feeling, he bristled and his greeting turned abrupt. “Howdy, Max.” Sternly, he shoved out his hand. Stiffening, Max scowled back. He took the proffered hand and waited for the handshake to be over. Then he stuck it in his pocket as if he’d been burned. Turning away quickly, he addressed Anne. “Which carousal is our luggage on, Maman?” Deadly silence screamed between Clint and a ferocious Annie until he dragged his eyes from her frown and answered for her. “Welcome to Texas. Come with me, we’ll get your bags and head on home.” Shame rode Clint all the way back to the ranch. What had started out so nicely had changed in an instant with his unacceptable behavior toward Max. The kid’s eyes, so like Annie’s, had mirrored his distress after Clint’s unnecessary harshness. Rather than apologize, or at least try and mitigate the offense, he’d driven home making no effort at all to welcome his guests. No one had to tell him. This time he knew. No doubt about it. He should be shot! Eleven men who will be put to the test when it comes to love. One epic anthology. Meet the men: • Ryland Dare (The Edge of Darkness): A privileged boy living a life of lies. • Reid Connely (Let Love In): A gorgeous and darkly mysterious college senior who understands pain all too well. • Deacon Chastain (A Blue Tale): A guitar player saved from a path of destruction by his rock idol and the music he creates. • Connor Simpson (Next to Forever): A fiancé who seems to have it all until he’s faced with one of the toughest decisions of his life. • Brett Walker (Trusting You): A one-night stand who wants more finds himself put to the test when his past threatens his future. • Adam Hill (Remembering Joy): A brooding and strangely charming film student set on revenge finds love where he least expects it. • Ryan Campbell (Falling): An abuse survivor living in a world of his own creation so he doesn’t have to feel. • Harrison James (My Unexpected Forever): A single dad with few expectations other than raising his son and making some music along the way until the unexpected happens. • Adam Burke (Better): An adventurer who works just enough to fund his next circle around the globe gets an opportunity he can't refuse. The only catch? He won't be traveling alone this time. • Luke Matthews (Love In Between): A guitar player grieving the loss of his fiancée after a tragic car accident no longer believes in love. • Jonathan Statham (Mid Life Love): A self-made billionaire and CEO of Statham Industries used to getting whatever he wants—whenever he wants. Find out their stories in these eleven, previously released, full-length novels about regret, revenge, forgiveness, and ultimately, love: The Edge of Darkness by Melissa Andrea Let Love In by Melissa Collins A Blue Tale by Sarah Dosher Next to Forever by S. Moose Trusting You by L.P. Dover Remembering Joy by Jenni Moen Falling by E.K. Blair My Unexpected Forever by Heidi McLaughlin Better by Carey Heywood Love in Between by Sandi Lynn Mid Life Love by Whitney G. *Mature subject matter and not intended for those under the age of 17. **Teaser** "Nothing lasts forever, Ryland." "Then, damn it, let me be your nothing, Araya." (The Edge of Darkness) **Teaser** "I never thought I needed anything in this life until I met you. Everything you give me is exactly what I have always needed, and you do it perfectly." (Falling) **Teaser** “She’s spread out beneath me, hair fanned out beautifully on her pillow, and she reaches up to wrap her hands around my neck. Pulling me close to her, she kisses me. Our tongues stroke together as our bodies connect.” (Let Love In) **Teaser** He pushed deeper, completely filling me then stilled. The only sound in the room was our breath coming faster and louder. Feeling overcome, I closed my eyes. “Eli, here.” He said, breathlessly. “Don’t look away, don’t lose me.” (A Blue Tale) **Teaser** “Do you want it hard or slow tonight?” Moaning, I lifted my head and arched my back. “I want it hard, Brett, and I want it now.” Pinning me to the bed with his weight, he leaned down and bit my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Then that’s exactly what you’ll get.” (Trusting You) **Teaser** The clumsy lovemaking of my high school boyfriend did not prepare me mentally and physically to comprehend what it is to be worshipped intimately by a man. "You should always be able to remember a kiss." (Better) **Teaser** "He leaned forward and forcefully pushed his lips against mine, forcing my lips to part. He kissed me as if he wanted to devour me. Our tongues tangled as the alluring scent of him engulfed my senses. I felt helpless. I couldn't move, and my heart was racing. Suddenly, he broke our kiss and stared at me." (Love In Between) **Teaser** I pull her close and move her so she’s sitting in front of me. She wraps her legs around my waist, playing into my fantasy. God, what I wouldn’t give to be buried deep inside her while we’re sitting on my bike. (My Unexpected Forever) **Teaser** “If I have to choose, I’ll choose you. I can live wihtout them, but I can’t live without you." (Remembering Joy) **Teaser** "Make me feel again, please." "Are you sure?" I nod my head and soon our clothes are coming off. His chest connects with mine as he slowly enters me. I want more. I need more. (Next to Forever) **Teaser** "He pushed me against the wall and kissed me-forcing my lips apart, trying to control my tongue with his." (Mid Life Love) Melissa Andrea: I find it hard to sum up my life in a paragraph, but I'll try. Reading has always been a passion for me, and writing as instinctive as breathing. Every inhale is an idea; every exhale a creation. Flutter will be my debut release, and I couldn't be more excited about it! The only thing I do better than writing you ask? Making beautiful girls. My daughter's will always be my greatest accomplishment. I was born in Denver, Colorado -but I will always think of sunny Arizona as my home. I don't have a big family, but I'm close with my sister, brother & my mom. My mom is my hero, my inspiration, and I couldn't have asked for a more amazing person to be raised by. 4 things you should know about me: I'm very girly, but I can get down and dirty with the best of them. I adore the color pink, I love things that sparkle (including vampires) and I like even numbers (hence 4 things about me, not 5) USA Today bestselling author and International bestselling author, E.K. Blair takes her readers on an emotional roller coaster with her FADING series. A former first grade teacher with an imagination that runs wild. Daydreaming and zoning out is how she was often found in high school. Blair tends to drift towards everything dark and moody. Give her a character and she will take pleasure in breaking them down, digging into their core to find what lies underneath. Aside from writing, E.K. Blair finds pleasure in music, drinking her Starbucks in peace, and spending time with her friends. She's a thinker, an artist, a wife, a mom, and everything in between. Melissa Collins has always been a book worm. Studying Literature in college ensured that her nose was always stuck in a book. She followed her passion for reading to the most logical career choice: English teacher. Her hope was to share her passion for reading and the escapism of books to her students. Having spent more than a decade in front of a classroom, she can easily say that it's been a dream. Her passion for writing didn't start until more recently. When she was home on maternity leave in early 2012, she read her first romance novel and her head filled with the passion, angst and laughter of the characters who she read about it. It wasn't long before characters of her own took shape in her mind. Their lives took over Melissa's brain and The Love Series was born. Sarah Dosher was born and raised in rural Oklahoma where she currently resides with her cowboy husband and twins (one cowboy and one cowgirl). She spends her day slaving away in healthcare and her nights pouring her heart out to her keyboard. She is addicted to books and The Golden Girls. Her love for reading inspired her to start her writing journey. USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover, is a southern belle residing in North Carolina along with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she even began her literary journey she worked in Periodontics enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries. Not only does she love to write, but she loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes, white water rafting, and you can't forget the passion for singing. Her two number one fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime and those songs usually consist of Christmas carols. Aside from being a wife and mother, L.P. Dover has written over nine novels including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, and her standalone novel, Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read is romantic suspense and she also loves writing it. However, if she had to choose a setting to live in it would have to be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae. Carey Heywood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author with six books out and many more to come. She was born and raised in Alexandria, Virginia. Ever the mild-mannered citizen, Carey spends her days working in the world of finance, and at night, she retreats into the lives of her fictional characters. Supporting her all the way are her husband, three sometimes-adorable children, and their nine-pound attack Yorkie. NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY & WALL STREET JOURNAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR Sandi Lynn, born and raised in the US, has always dreamed of becoming an author since she won her first young author's award in grade school. She spends her days raising her three teenage girls and writing full-time. Sandi Lynn is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of her Forever Trilogy (Forever Black, Forever You, Forever Us). She has a severe coffee addiction and can usually be found hanging out at the local Starbucks with her laptop, sipping lattes, and working on her books. In addition to writing romance novels, she loves to write poetry. Heidi is the author of USA Today, Kobo, Digital Book World, Amazon and Barnes & Noble Bestselling novel, Forever My Girl Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell and two Parakeets. During the day Heidi is behind a desk talking about Land Use. At night, she's writing one of the many stories planned for release or sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games. Jenni Moen lives in her hometown in Oklahoma with her husband and three crazy, exuberant kids that have the potential to burn the house down at any moment. When she's not chauffeuring kids around town, performing her mom duties as a short order cook and maid, or vacuuming for her fastidious husband, she hammers away at her keyboard at her big girl job as a patent attorney. While vodka and exercise have provided some relief from the daily grind, it is reading ... and now writing ... that are her true escapes. S.Moose lives in Webster, NY with her husband. A 2011 St. John Fisher graduate, S.Moose loves to read and write. When she isn't in her room in front of her computer or a book, she is with her family and friends. S. Moose is a romantic at heart and loves anything with a happily ever after. A self diagnosed candy addict, travel junkie, and hypochondriac, Whitney Gracia Williams LOVES to write about characters that make you laugh, cry, and want to (in the case of Claire Gracen) reach through your Kindle and slap them. She is the New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of Reasonable Doubt,the Mid Life Love Series, the Jilted Bride Series, the My Last Resolution Series, Wasted Love, and Captain of My Soul. HOSTED BY: |