Julie Elizabeth Powell's Blog, page 41

MISSING: THE LADY SAID NO by Jacquie Biggar

MISSING: THE LADY SAID NO

A Chandler County Novel
(An Augustus Grant Mystery Book 1)
by Jacquie Biggar

Genre: Romantic Suspense

The Race is on to find a Killer in the heart of Kentucky horse country

Detective Augustus Grant is faced with his most baffling case to date. Well-respected race horse breeder, John Jorgenson, is murdered in his den days before the Kentucky Derby and the list of suspects is growing.

Complicating matters, Gus' ex-girlfriend is the last person to have seen the victim alive.

Rebecca Hayes owes the Jorgenson family her loyalty. They gave her a new life after a disastrous affair leaves her alone and pregnant.

With all the evidence pointing in Becky's direction, will Gus do his duty?

Or follow his heart?

“If there’s something you want to share; it would be just between the two of us.” He waved the bread in the air.

She hesitated, then glanced around before leaning close. “Mr. Jorgenson was real worried about his horse, Forever Humble. I thinks he has a lot invested in the race. Emmett says he’s been hanging out at the track night and day.” She covered her face with her hands, one bandaged white, one black. “It’s just so sad.”

Hmm. That was interesting. He’d heard rumors around town that the Jorgensons were in financial straits, but he’d put it down to jealousy and human nature. Obviously, there was more to the story than he’d figured.

Maybe even enough for murder?

Gus finished the soup and thanked the young cook before making his way into the main part of the house. Fine hardwood floors and the dark wainscoting lined the walls. Everything was polished to within an inch of its life and glistened from top to bottom. How could anyone feel comfortable in a place like this? Bet the Jorgensons never kicked their feet up onto the coffee table to relax, or left their rooms in robes in search of a midnight snack. This was the type of house that demanded decorum.

As if to prove his verdict, a man came into view at the end of the hall. He was directing the coroner, Nancy Huggins, to a room with a police guard, disapproval radiating from his immaculate frame. He wore a suit nicer than Gus’ funeral attire, all three pieces starched and pressed to perfection. A wrinkle wouldn’t dare latch itself to those clothes.

Gus looked down at his own rumpled shirt and skewed tie and shrugged.

Nancy caught his eye and raised her brow. “Augustus. What brings you to the back of beyond?”

The manservant turned, and a chill crawled down Gus’ back. The guy had the deadest, black eyes he’d ever seen.

“I’m…ah, here to investigate the Jorgenson case. The Brass called and requested me for this one.”

“Hmm, must be important then. I heard you received a medal from the President.”

Gus squirmed.

He hadn’t done anything to deserve a medal. It was pure luck that he figured out the plot to kidnap the President’s daughter, and was able to catch the perps before they got away with the deed.

“Why were you in the back of the house, sir? That area is reserved for the servants.” The manservant folded his arms and waited for an answer. Gus felt like a misbehaving child all over again.

“I, ah… came in from the pool, after talking to Mrs. Jorgenson. She gave me permission to question the staff as I see fit.” He met the man’s coal dark gaze. “And you are?”

Gus didn’t think it was possible for the broom handle to climb any further up the man’s butt.

“That’s Ernest. He takes a while to warm up to strangers,” a lilting voice drifted down from the upper reaches of the home.

Gus froze. His heart battered the walls of his chest. There was a ringing in his ears. The chicken soup threatened to revolt.

“Hello, Augustus.”

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JACQUIE BIGGAR is a USA Today bestselling author of Romantic Suspense who loves to write about tough, alpha males who know what they want, that is until they're gob-smacked by heroines who are strong, contemporary women willing to show them what they really need is love. She is the author of the popular Wounded Hearts series and has just started a new series in paranormal suspense, Mended Souls.

She has been blessed with a long, happy marriage and enjoys writing romance novels that end with happily-ever-afters.

Jacquie lives in paradise along the west coast of Canada with her family and loves reading, writing, and flower gardening. She swears she can't function without coffee, preferably at the beach with her sweetheart. 🙂

Free reads, excerpts, author news, and contests can be found on her website. You can follow her on Facebook, Twitter or email her via her web site.

Jacquie lives on Vancouver Island with her husband and loves to hear from readers all over the world!

You can join her street team on Facebook, her exclusive Review Crew or sign up for her newsletter.

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BEHIND THE LOVE SERIES by P.C. Zick

BEHIND THE LOVE SERIES

by P.C. Zick

Genre: contemporary romance

Leah Bryant lives a quiet life helping others. When her future mother-in-law, Geraldine, threatens her causes, she’s left confused by the hypocrisy and befuddled by a stranger who roars into town on a Harley.Dean Davis never wanted to return to his hometown. But when his father dies, he knows he must return and faced his mother, Geraldine, and his ugly past. When Leah discovers the stranger is the brother of her fiancé that she’d been told was dead, she’s drawn to him and furious about the deception. Both are bowled over by an intense attraction to one another. The magnetic pull draws them into a passionate embrace within minutes of meeting.

Leah’s controlled life and Dean’s emotional barriers both shatter and force them to examine their lives. Leah must choose between her safe engagement to Dean’s estranged brother, Jacob, and a dangerously passionate affair with Dean. And Dean must confront the demon from his childhood, his mother. Dean’s fear of loving and Leah’s need for security pull them together, rather than apart.

But none of it will matter if they can’t stop Geraldine, an unhinged woman on a destructive course to abolish everyone who opposes her thirst for power. When Dean and Leah, along with Jacob, threaten her, she goes on a rampage to destroy them all.

Behind the Altar is the first novel in the Behind the Love contemporary romance series that features sizzling attractions, dramatic confrontations, and intertwined and complicated lives. Set in the fictional small town of Victory, Florida, friends fight and love and form families of their own choosing.

Dean turned and walked out the same door he’d entered a few minutes earlier when he’d captivated Leah so thoroughly. No wonder he looked familiar, Leah thought. He and Jacob were brothers. She ran to the door, ignoring her fiancé’s plea to stay there. She needed to know more about Dean.

She found him sitting on a motorcycle on the side lawn of the church used for Sunday morning parking overflow.

“Where are you going?” Leah asked as she approached the bike where he straddled the engine. He was sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest. He rolled his eyes at her approach.

“What do you care?” he asked. “You almost accepted my invitation for dinner back there. Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was being tested.”

“For what?”

“For my love for Jacob. I wouldn’t have gone on a date with you.”

“But you wanted to go with me.”

“For a few seconds, yes, I did.”

She walked closer to him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close until his knee rested on her hip. He placed one arm around her shoulders and put the other around her waist. He leaned so close to her, their lips almost touched as they stared into each other’s eyes. It happened so quickly that Leah didn’t have time to react. Now that they were touching, she couldn’t even think, let alone pull away from him.

“It won’t take you long to find out what I learned at a very early age,” he said softly, his breath caressing her lips. “When you do find out, you’ll come running to me for more of this.”

He leaned down until his lips touched hers, gently at first, but then he pushed with a hardness that made their teeth clink. Leah parted her lips further, allowing his tongue to enter. She put her arms on his chest and felt the hardness of his pecs. She started to push him away, but then she lost herself in the sensations of his touch.

Leah forgot everything, until the sound of a horn from the street only yards away startled her. It was enough to draw her back to reality. She pushed against his chest with the palms of her hand and pulled her head away from his.

“I have to go back inside,” she said. “I can’t do this. I don’t know what happened.”

“Have it your way,” Dean said. “I’m finished with those two, but you go back to them. If they lied to you about me, what else have they lied about?”

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Susie Williams yearns for a romantic wedding with her boyfriend of five years. Reggie Barker runs from demands to marry any woman, including Susie. After the wedding of their best friends, Reggie resists Susie’s hints about marrying. He suggests they take a break. An angry and heartbroken Susie kicks him down the road and into the arms of the voluptuous Sally Jean. After Susie is mugged, she discovers Reggie’s gambling debt brought the thugs to Victory to scare him into paying. With her love for Reggie in doubt, she is tempted by a rich publisher and reconsiders her options. Meanwhile, Reggie starts to realize Susie means more to him than the tavern he owns, more than the gambling he’s hidden, and more than any other woman he knows.

But it all might be too late for Susie, who begins to unravel a mystery from a night long ago when Reggie and all the other characters played a pivotal role in her life. And before Reggie can commit to marriage, he must come to terms with a father who abandoned marriage many years earlier Both Reggie and Susie must learn to trust each other before love can ever survive a second chance.

Behind the Bar is the second novel in the Behind the Love contemporary romance series, but it is also a stand-alone romance. Once you read one novel in this series, you’ll want to learn more about the romances that feature sizzling attractions, dramatic confrontations, and intertwined and complicated lives. Set in the fictional small town of Victory, Florida, friends fight and love and form families of their own choosing.

SUSIE WILLIAMS WATCHED AS her best friend, Leah, exchanged wedding vows with Dean. She stood next to the bride, and on the other side of Dean, stood Reggie, her boyfriend of five years. Susie—while happy for her friends who had only met a few months before—couldn’t help but wonder when she and Reggie would stand next to one another and vow to love and cherish until death.

When she glanced around the couple, she tried to catch Reggie’s eyes. But he wasn’t paying attention to the ceremony. His body was turned toward Leah and Dean, but Reggie’s head was turned out to the guests. His eyes roved around the crowd. Despite her fervent prayer willing him to look at her as they witnessed the open expression of love between their best friends, Reggie never turned toward her.

Leah and Dean exchanged their rings. When the wind blew in the trees, a small branch fell behind the minister as he blessed their union. Susie wistfully watched them kiss.

She wanted to be the bride, not the maid of honor. Reggie and she had dated long enough for her to know he was the one she wanted to marry. But Reggie hadn’t asked, despite her hints. Worse, he made disparaging comments about the institution of marriage every time it came up to whomever would listen. He always treated his comments as a joke, but lately Susie had been worried that he really meant the things he said. The time had come to have a serious talk about their relationship. She’d hinted at what she wanted, and then she’d waited for him to suggest the rest.

She looked at Reggie again, but he still surveyed the small crowd gathered on the banks of the river for the wedding. Finally, she followed his gaze, and to her surprise, she saw her sister, Lisa, standing in the front row with the others who had come to witness the marriage of Dean Davis and Leah Bryant.

Why hadn’t Lisa called to tell her she was coming to the wedding? Typical of her sister, who did exactly what she wanted when she wanted to do it. But Susie was still happy to see her. Lisa had left years ago, but now she’d finally come back to Victory.

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Lisa Williams has discovered a way to achieve her life-long goal of becoming a famous actress by bringing a reality television show to her hometown. Tommy Jackson despises the idea of exploiting the town and hates it even more when his editor assigns him to cover the show for a Tampa newspaper. Lisa and Tommy have known each other all their lives. Tommy even dated her baby sister, Susie back in high school. But he’s not her type, and her values disturb him. Besides, when she returns to town, she comes with her boyfriend, Jet, who will also star in the television show. When Sally Jean makes an appearance on the show, the producer falls in lust with her, and Lisa worries that Sally Jean will be made the star of the show. Tommy is disgusted by Lisa who seems intent on dragging her family and friends through painful memories in her pursuit of stardom.

When Tommy’s mom is diagnosed with cancer, Lisa shows a different side to her character. Sitting with Mrs. Jackson during her final days gives Lisa a perspective on her own life she’s never had before. Tommy and Lisa are drawn to one another through the real-life tragedy unfolding. But first they must deal with an out of control Jet and reality show producer who want to exploit the small town even more as they see the potential of showcasing some of the more famous of Victory’s citizens, such as the fallen football star, the criminal publisher, and a tattoo artist turned farmer. Mrs. Jackson and Lisa’s sister Susie share in the circle of life to bring this dramatic romance to a bittersweet end.

Behind the Curtain is the third novel in the Behind the Love contemporary romance series, but it is also a stand-alone romance. Once you read one novel in this series, you’ll want to learn more about the rest of the romances that feature sizzling attractions, dramatic confrontations, and intertwined and complicated lives. Set in the fictional small town of Victory, Florida, friends fight and love and form families of their own choosing.

LISA WATCHED AS HER baby sister, Susie, exchanged vows with Reggie on the front porch of their house. Standing next to her smiling new husband, Susie glowed. Reggie patted his new wife’s protruding belly, and the crowd of friends roared with laughter.

Lisa smiled. At least one of them had managed to find love.

Sally Jean greeted Lisa when she stepped off the front steps to mingle with the folks gathered in the front yard. Lisa had known most of the guests her entire life, even though she hadn’t spoken to many of them in a decade. But Sally Jean Compton had been one of her best friends since high school. The third member of their trio, Mable Cornish, had died years before. Her death had probably drawn Lisa and Sally Jean even closer, even though Lisa lived in New York City.

“She’s a beautiful bride,” Sally Jean said as she hugged Lisa. “I’m really happy for the two of them.”

“Not jealous?” Lisa asked. “I thought you had a thing for Reggie. At least, that’s what Susie thought at one time.”

“I know she did, and I love Reggie like a brother, but that’s all. You know as well as anyone Dean always had my heart. But that ship sailed when he met Leah.”

“But you’re over him, right?”

“I’m more envious that they found one another while I’m still searching for the right person.” Sally Jean frowned. “Dean’s still a hunk though.”

Lisa put her arm around her friend. A decade ago, Sally Jean dated Dean Davis and Lisa was set to marry Sam Rollings. They both thought back then that they’d found their forever princes. But princes turn to frogs. They were all so young. Both those relationships ended right after their high school graduation ten years earlier. She felt sorry for Sally Jean sometimes, but Lisa knew she was just as messed up when it came to relationships as her friend was. What right did Lisa have to judge her? The people in their small hometown of Victory, Florida, already did enough of that.

“I hope you don’t have any lingering thoughts about him. Leah has that man all wrapped up in her arms and legs.” Lisa felt compelled to address Sally Jean’s sometimes misplaced emotions. “Besides, did you know Leah is pregnant?”

Leah would be furious if Sally Jean still harbored feelings for Dean. Leah was Susie’s best friend, and by extension, a friend of Lisa’s as well. Sally Jean needed to face reality, and Lisa was the only person who would tell her.

“Pregnant?” Sally Jean turned pale under her heavy blush. “I’m really happy for them. Dean is probably over the moon. When he settled down, he did it with a big thud.”

“Are you okay? You look pale.” Lisa knew the news had the potential of upsetting her friend, but Sally Jean had to face the facts. “I thought you should know.”

“And I appreciate that. It’s better hearing from you than from the guys down at the Tavern. I like Leah, I really do. But if Dean asked me to be his girl again, I’d be hard pressed to say no.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that happening.” Lisa watched Sally Jean’s mouth turn down, and she immediately regretted her words. “I’m sorry, Sally Jean. I just meant, their relationship is pretty rock solid. And I want you to be realistic.”

“You’re right.” Sally Jean smiled. “My relationship with Dean ended ten years ago when he left town without saying a word to me.”

“That’s exactly what I did with Sam, and I did it because it was over. But both Dean and I owed you and Sam explanations.”

“That’s true. Dean had to leave because of Geraldine and her awful accusations, and you had to leave because of what Sam did. I understand all that now. And who cares what Sam thinks? He deserved it.”

“What a town,” Lisa said. “The Peyton Place of Florida.” They both laughed.

“We need to put that on the welcome sign at the city limits,” Sally Jean said. “Now let’s forget about the past and get some of that champagne they’re pouring. I want to forget everything but having a great time tonight.”

Just then a tall man with red hair approached them with two glasses of champagne.

“What are the two most beautiful women at this wedding doing over here in the corner without drinks in hand?” Tommy Jackson handed each of them a glass of champagne as if he’d heard Sally Jean’s suggestion.

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BEHIND THE DOOR

A VOLUPTUOUS WOMAN UNLUCKY IN LOVE. A WOUNDED PSYCHOLOGIST ON A MISSION. AN UNDENIABLE ATTRACTION WITH AN ETHICAL DILEMMA.

Sally Jean Compton is in love. And this time it's with a man who isn't in love with someone else. Dr.Brett Gorman arrives in Victory to help the veterans of Deer River with PTSD symptoms. When tragedy strikes, neither Sally Jean nor Brett are prepared for what happens next.

The shocking aftermath of the terror of PTSD untreated leaves the entire town of Victory reeling. But none are more affected than Sally Jean and Brett who must deal with their own pasts and the trauma left behind. When Sally Jean seeks out the expertise of Dr.Brett, the psychologist of the river folks, they discover an intense attraction that leads them both to learn about themselves.

But before anything happens, Sally Jean must learn she deserves to be loved, and Brett must forgive himself for the death of his friend and his sister, his wife. It's a rocky journey to love.

Behind the Curtain is the fourth novel in the Behind the Love contemporary romance series that features sizzling attractions, dramatic confrontations, and intertwined and complicated lives. Set in the fictional small town of Victory, Florida, friends fight and love and form families of their own choosing.

Bestselling author P.C. Zick describes herself as a storyteller no matter what she writes. And she writes in a variety of genres, including romance, contemporary fiction, and nonfiction. She's won various awards for her essays, columns, editorials, articles, and fiction.

The three novels in her Florida Fiction Series contain stories of Florida and its people and environment, which she credits as giving her a rich base for her storytelling. "Florida's quirky and abundant wildlife—both human and animal—supply my fiction with tales almost too weird to be believable."

Her contemporary romances in the Behind the Love series are also set in Florida. The novels in her most recent series, Smoky Mountain Romances, are set in in Murphy, North Carolina. She is currently working on a new romance series, Rivals in Love. Join the Crandall family of Chicago as the siblings find love despite their focus on successful careers. All of her books are stand-alone reads, even if they appear in a series.

Her novels contain elements of romance with strong female characters, handsome heroes, and descriptive settings. She believes in living lightly upon this earth with love, laughter, and passion, and through her fiction, she imparts this philosophy in an entertaining manner with an obvious love for her characters, plot, and themes.

You can keep track of P.C. Zick's new releases and special promotions by signing up for her newsletter by clicking here. For more immediate information, sign up for P.C. Zick’s Lovers of Romantic Tales on Facebook by clicking here.

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New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lexi Blake lives in North Texas with her husband, three kids, and the laziest rescue dog in the world. She began writing at a young age, concentrating on plays and journalism. It wasn’t until she started writing romance that she found success. She likes to find humor in the strangest places. Lexi believes in happy endings no matter how odd the couple, threesome or foursome may seem.

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WORDS AND DREAMS by Laura Strickland

WORDS AND DREAMS

Sequel to Forged by Love (Book 2 of the Lobster Cove series)

by Laura Strickland

Genre: Historical Romance

Dorothea Sinclair has left her small home town in Maine and come to Boston to begin a career as a newspaper reporter. But so far her job on the Guardian has proved disappointing. More skivvy than reporter, she’s even been subjected to a humiliating proposition from the chief editor’s son. She needs a break but never expects it might come from a chance meeting with an Irish ruffian.

There’s a great deal of injustice in Boston, and O’Hare, embroiled in his fight for equality on behalf of Boston’s Irish, is well aware of it. When he rescues Dorothea’s hat on the waterfront, he’s surprised to learn she’s a reporter. And when she offers him the opportunity to state his case in the Guardian, what can he do but accept? It’s the perfect chance to put his dreams into his own words—and the only sure way to see her again.

Nothing wrong in that. Dorothea’s own father was a worker, if a skilled one—the blacksmith back home. This man had no blacksmith’s build. Instead he looked light on his feet, square-shouldered and graceful as quicksilver. Brash confidence rolled off him in waves.

As she stood staring across the road in consternation, he held up her hat and grinned before casting a look both ways and jogging over to her side.

He brought a presence with him that backed Dorothea up a step or two. She might credit it to the set of those fine shoulders or the grin that still occupied his face or the swagger he displayed that made the most of his height which, surely, didn’t top six feet.

He reached her, spent an instant examining her closely and presented her hat with a sweeping bow worthy of a practiced thespian.

“Lovely miss, I’m thinking this belongs to you.”

“Yes. Yes it does, thank you.”

Dorothea reached for the hat but, like the rascal he undoubtedly was, he kept it from her grasp, pretending to examine it closely. He brushed off a bit of grit from the brim and fingered the now-tattered veil.

“A mite worse for its adventure, but no doubt you can mend it, women having a certain magical talent for such things.”

Again, Dorothea reached for her hat; again he kept it from her only to take a step closer and set it on her head.

“There you go, beautiful lady. You will be sure and hold on to it more closely next time.”

Dorothea, assaulted by the full force of his masculinity, said nothing though she reached up one hand and clamped the hat to her head. She looked into his face and all the breath fled her lungs.

He wore no hat and had a head full of copper curls well-tossed by the wind. His face screamed Ireland with a broad forehead and slightly-squared jaw all sprinkled with freckles visible even beneath his worker’s tan. His eyes—but no. Dorothea met them once before her gaze skittered away much as the hat had, only to return again on a rush of fascination.

Tawny gold as those of a tom cat, his eyes held a world of emotions: amusement first of all, that flaming confidence, an uncanny wisdom and a hint of daring. Dorothea responded to the last first—seldom did she fail to accept a dare.

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THE WHITE GULL

When the trawler White Gull was lost in a storm off the coast of Lobster Cove, Lisbeth O'Shea's husband, Declan, was lost along with it. At least that’s what Lisbeth believes until, a year later, she hears Declan’s voice in the night and sees him haunting the shore near their tiny cottage. Then she wonders… Has grief affected her mind? Or is someone playing a cruel trick?

Town blacksmith Rab Sinclair has loved Lisbeth ever since he arrived in Lobster Cove. Lisbeth has never had eyes for anyone other than the charming, feckless Declan O’Shea, but Rab knows Declan was not faithful to Lisbeth. How can he convince the grieving widow she’s pinned her heart on the wrong man? And when dangerous secrets come to light, how can Rab protect the woman who means more to him than his own life?

FORGED BY LOVE

Newly returned home to Lobster Cove from the War Between the States, blacksmith Douglas Grier can’t forget the horrors he’s witnessed or the beautiful young woman he helped break free from her shackles one dark night after her master’s plantation burned. He wishes he had at least asked her name, even though she and her family disappeared into the darkness and Douglas has no expectation of seeing her again.

Josie Freeman can’t remember the last time she felt safe. Even though she and her family are freed, they’re being pursued by slave hunters hired by their former owner. When their ship is damaged on the way to Nova Scotia, Josie is thrown into contact with the one man she never expected…the very man she had wanted to see. But will her past catch up with her before Douglas can free her heart?

Award-winning author Laura Strickland, born and raised in Western New York, has pursued lifelong interests in lore, legend, magic and music, all reflected in her writing. She has made pilgrimages to both Newfoundland and Scotland in the company of her daughter, but is usually happiest at home not far from Lake Ontario, with her husband and her "fur" child, a rescue dog. Author of Scottish romances Devil Black, His Wicked Highland Ways, Honor Bound: A Highland Adventure and The Hiring Fair as well as The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy consisting of Daughter of Sherwood, Champion of Sherwood and Lord of Sherwood, she has also published three Steampunk romances, Dead Handsome: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure, Off Kilter: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure and Sheer Madness: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure as well as two Christmas novellas: The Tenth Suitor and Mrs. Claus and the Viking Ship, and a Valentine’s novella: Ask me. Her Lobster Cove Historical Romances include The White Gull and the novella, Forged By Love, which won first place in the International Digital Awards. Her latest release, Words and Dreams, is the sequel to Forged By Love.

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LAURA KAYE!

New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller Laura Kaye is the author of thirty books in romantic suspense and contemporary and erotic romance and has sold more than one million books in the U.S. alone. Among her many awards, she won the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Romantic Suspense of 2014 for Hard As You Can. A former college history professor, Laura grew up amid family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses, cementing her life-long fascination with storytelling and the supernatural. Laura lives in Maryland with her husband and two daughters, appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.

Laura also writes historical fiction under the name Laura Kamoie, also a Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and USA Today bestseller.

Laura is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the Maryland Romance Writers, the Washington Romance Writers, and she is past president of the RWA-Contemporary Romance Writers.

For rights, media, or other inquiries, please contact Kevan Lyon of the Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.

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ORLOSIAN WARRIORS series by Dariel Raye

ORLOSIAN WARRIORS series

Books 1 & 2

by Dariel Raye

Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy

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CALM ASSURANCE

Two hearts, two different worlds, uncompromising love.

A straight-laced Nephilim-descendant and a human trouble-magnet?

When Asriel - Orlosian Warrior, descendant of Nephilim, law enforcer – is sent to guard Malina, a human with a penchant for drawing trouble like a tornado, she becomes his obsession.

With no hope of finding love in his dimension, he breaks the cardinal rule, leaving his home to protect her, but she has also drawn the attention of his enemies, and he is forced to face demons from his past. If Asriel chooses to stay with Malina, not only does he risk forfeiting his right to ever return to his dimension, but he will need her blood to survive.

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DESTINY'S FAVOR

His world shifted the moment she was born. Now, nothing can stop him from making her his…

Imagine a man who looks like an angel, wings and all. What would you do if you met such a man, and he told you that he exists for only one purpose, to claim you and only you?

Destiny Carter is a feisty, take-charge, Rubenesque beauty with a tough façade. She finds herself caught in that age-old quandary of always being the bridesmaid but never the bride. A string of lackluster relationships leaves her hopeless and ready to settle for whatever comes along, until she meets Japheth, the man her fiancé claims is his best friend. Japheth’s arrival is heralded by an attack on Destiny’s life, but somehow, from some instinct deep within her, she knows this is only the beginning.

Born more than 200 years ago, Japheth looks like an angel, but he’s far from it. In his world, the ratio of men to women is 500 to 1, and although he’s a superior being, he’s willing to break the most sacred law of his brothers, even to drink human blood, if it means having the one that he believes is meant for him alone. When he meets Destiny, he knows she’s the one he’s been searching for. To claim her, though, Japheth will have to betray a friend, risk his life, and, perhaps hardest of all, humble himself enough to win her love.

Still too far away to get a good look at the legendary J, Destiny watched the two men pull each other into a brief man hug. As she did, her mind wandered back to her conversation with Memaw: “Destiny, you be extra careful the next few days, okay? Memaw’s got a feeling.” She wondered what all the sudden drama was about, especially since she was always careful. The older woman was always right, though, so she couldn’t help glancing around cautiously as she walked. Memaw had said those same words to her the night she was attacked, so it was always good to heed her advice, always better to be safe than sorry.

J bent to pick up his one bag, and before she could even close the gap between them, they were heading back toward her.

Destiny overheard part of their conversation as they neared: “Man, I know it’s after two and all, but I’ve never seen people sleepin’ at a bus station like this before. I swear, everybody’s laid out but you.” She also couldn’t help but notice J’s striking gait as he stalked closer, almost graceful but with a natural swagger. All jungle cat in a man’s body, was the only thought that came to mind. Realizing that she was staring far too much, she dragged her gaze from Robert’s friend and surveyed the station, but she was still hesitant to stop admiring him. Something about the way he moved sent a jolt of energy rushing through her, punching her guilt button in the process. Surely, she and Robert were not a match made in Heaven, but that certainly didn’t make it okay to have the thoughts she was having about his best friend.

Even during that beautiful season of the year, the dreary bus station looked and felt dank, grim, and hopeless. The floodlights, although strategically placed, barely pierced the darkness, and the skinny trees left over from the last time anyone cared reminded her of how she really felt about being alone.

A sudden blur of movement caught Destiny’s attention as they walked on, and fear and nausea invaded her, welling up from their hiding places. A tall, dark figure rushed toward her, his hands reaching out like claws, eager to grab her. Time stood still as waves of nausea struck, rendering her unable to move, a predicament she’d never found herself in until that reality-changing attack.

Destiny stumbled and fell to the ground. Every one of her survival instincts kicked in, and she was ready to fight if necessary, but just as quickly as the shadow appeared, it was gone. The station was eerily quiet and still again, and she found herself standing there, with no memory of getting up from the ground. She glanced around, checking all sides, then turned to face Robert and J as they stopped in front of her as if nothing had happened.

“Baby, this is Japheth Danaelson, J. J, this is Destiny Carter, my fiancé,” Robert casually said.

She tried to dismiss the hazy monster as nothing more than a flashback, but subconsciously, she knew better; Destiny was convinced that something really had just tried to attack her again, even if it did stop in its tracks and vanish. Despite her disorientation, wobbly knees, and the feeling that she had somehow skipped through time, and despite the fact that her mind was now reeling with doubt over what she’d just seen, Japheth’s presence overshadowed everything else. Up close, he was absolutely breathtaking.

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Dariel Raye is an animal lover, animal rights activist, musician, and award-winning author of powerful paranormal romance and dark urban fantasy with IR/MC (Interracial/Multi-cultural) alpha male heroes to die for, and strong heroines with hearts worth winning. She fell in love with books and started reciting stories at the age of 3. A counseling psychologist, classically trained vocalist, and pianist, she plays over 11 musical instruments, and naturally incorporates behavioral psychology into her characters. Her stories tell of shifters, vamps, angels, demons, and fey (the Vodouin variety). She is also a Netflix paranormal TV series binger.

Dariel is currently writing two series: “Dark Sentinels” (wolf shifters), and “Orlosian Warriors” (Vampire-like Nephilim). For more about Dariel, follow her blog or visit her website. She also publishes a new release newsletter. If you enjoyed this book, please post a review on review sites. You can also follow her and contact her on Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest.

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ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST by Bruce Blake

ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST

Icarus Fell series, book 2

by Bruce Blake

Genre: Urban Fantasy

If we're good, we go to Heaven; if we're bad we go to Hell. No one wants to go to Hell.

Except one man who wishes people would just remember to call him Ric.

In the aftermath of a serial killer's murderous spree, souls who didn't deserve damnation went to Hell. The archangel Michael doesn't seem concerned, but Icarus Fell can't bear the guilt of knowing it's his fault they ended up there.

But how can he save them when the archangel forbids him from going and his guardian angel refuses to help?

The answer comes in the form of another beautiful, bewitching guardian angel who offers to be his guide. They travel to Hell to rescue the unjustly damned one by one, but salvation comes at a cost and the economy of Hell demands souls.

Is it a price Icarus is willing to pay?

Chapter One

When your guardian angel and her friend, the archangel Gabriel, tell you to stay put, it’s probably a good idea to listen.

I should have, but I have inexplicable difficulty with authority figures. It gets me in trouble. A lot.

An old Buick sat to the right of my motel room door looking like it hadn’t moved in a decade or so, and it certainly hadn’t budged since I checked in; a few other cars were parked in the motel’s lot but there were no people. I stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind me, the click of the lock firecracker-loud in the winter night.

I paused. Still no one around. I breathed deep and stepped away from the door, the first time I’d been outside the dingy, musty-smelling room in weeks.

A month ago, the police found a tranny prostitute named Dante Frank dead on a bed in a five-star hotel, hairy chest and hairless vagina exposed for the world to see along with the biblical references his killer carved in his flesh. Dante, whom I’d known as Danielle Francis, was the last victim of the serial killer dubbed the Revelations Reaper by the media. The police had a suspect in the string of killings: me.

I didn’t kill any of them but, if the truth be told, their deaths were on me.

Forget the angels telling me to stay indoors, the fact the local news had been flashing an unflattering picture of my face on the screen every night until a week ago should have kept me inside my seedy room. But you know what they say about common sense...it ain’t so common.

Icarus Fell: living proof.

I didn’t think that because they finally stopped plastering my face all over the six o’clock news they’d stopped looking for me. Every cop in the city likely still carried my picture like they were at war and I was their girl waiting for them back home, but after four weeks in my motel-room-prison, the prospect of remaining inside held as little appeal as being girlfriend to a bunch of cops. I’d spent every moment of the last month thinking about my role in the deaths, wishing things were different. Another minute trapped alone with my guilt might prove one too many.

I slipped away from the motel and down a side street, disappearing in shadows and down alleys wherever I could. The taste of impending snow in the early December air fortified my lungs.

As I ranged farther from the motel, the garbage strewn on the streets and graffiti tags spray-painted on walls -- ‘Big Turk Wuz Hear’ and other poetic gems -- became less frequent until they disappeared completely. I’d made my way to a neighborhood where people cared, a fact which should have rang alarm bells in my head and made me more careful, but the lack of hookers and drug dealers lifted my spirits and my worry ebbed taking caution along with it.

Dumb ass.

I paused at the intersection, the lights of an approaching car reflecting on the frost-rimed pavement as I waited to be sure it would obey the stop sign. Without the fresh air loosening my wits, I’d have waved him through, but freedom made my head light in the way of a non-smoker after a few drags on a cigarette. The car’s brakes squeaked as it rolled to a halt. I stepped off the curb and raised a hand in thanks, squinting against the lights, but couldn’t see the driver. Hand replaced in pocket, I continued on my way, thinking nothing of it until I heard the hum and chatter of a power window in need of repair.

“Hey, you.”

The words weren’t spoken with the timbre of someone in need of directions. The caution and worry the beautiful night had leeched from me flooded back; I quickened my pace.

“Stop.”

I broke into a run before his engine roared and tires chirped. Cutting across a well-manicured lawn, I hopped a fence, ran through a back yard dominated by an inter-locking brick patio and an in-ground pool emptied for the winter, then vaulted another fence into a rear lane, cursing my stupidity with every step.

Despite a house between us, I heard the car’s engine rev and labor as the driver gave chase. I dove through a line of tall shrubs, their branches scratching my face, and into another yard, keeping my flight to places the car couldn’t go. Ten minutes of fence-jumping and shrub-diving later, I emerged on a sporadically lit street. Familiar graffiti scrolled across the side of a building; Big Turk and his poor spelling were back. Close to my motel. My lungs labored, the cold air hurting my chest instead of refreshing it as a stitch in my side dug in and grabbed hold. I stopped to catch my breath, bent at the waist, hands grasping knees like the world’s worst marathoner run out of steam, but rest didn’t last long. A siren wailed behind me and I forced my legs back into action.

I darted into an alley and the all-too-familiar stink of garbage and piss, depression and decay hit me immediately. I’d lost so many days and nights of my youth in alleys like this, sleeping off a bottle of vodka or poking a needle in my arm. I forced the thought from my mind. This was no time to self-analyze by way of shitty memories.

Tires screeched at the mouth of the alley. I didn’t look back, my attention taken by a figure stepping out of the shadows into my path. A Carrion, I assumed--a human-shaped demon sent to collect souls and make my life difficult--but I quickly realized the silhouette was smaller and more feminine, leaving two possible people. Angels, really. I halted a few paces beyond arm’s-reach in case I was wrong.

“Hey, mister. Long time, no see.”

I recognized the voice immediately. The angel stepped into the light and I saw her gingerbread hair, glimpsed the freckled skin of her cheek.

“Gabe.”

The Archangel Gabriel is the messenger. She brings scrolls with my assignments inscribed on them: who’s scheduled to pass, where, when, and where to take them when it’s done.

I couldn’t think of a worse time for her to show up.

“Did you miss me?”

Her pure voice echoed off the alley walls and a chorus of swallows which always accompanied her, but that I couldn’t see in the dark, chirped and chittered on a fire escape overhead.

“Don’t have time right now, Gabe,” I said breathlessly and glanced over my shoulder. The alley remained empty, but it wouldn’t for much longer.

“Here.”

She offered a scroll which hadn’t been in her hand a second before.

“Really, Gabe? I don’t--” I gestured toward the alley at my back, offered a pleading look. She shook the scroll at me and raised an eyebrow.

I’d learned the hard way that harvesting wasn’t the kind of job you could slack off at; the hard way seems to be how I learn pretty much everything. I gave in without any real fight.

My finger brushed hers as I grasped the rolled parchment and an electric charge prickled the hairs on my arm, bringing with it a longing to spend time with her, to be in her presence as long as possible. I nearly forgot the man chasing me.

“Gabe, I--”

She smiled and shrugged. “You don’t have time, remember?”

Swallow wings beat the air above my head as she walked away. I stared after her for a second before pulling myself from the angel-induced stupor to look at the scroll in my hand. This was my second assignment since everything went down: the deaths, the media frenzy, the explosion at the church. What happened to souls during my seclusion? Did they make other arrangements or were they okay with everyone going to Hell for a few weeks while I got my wits about me? Great vacation for me, but kind of sucked for everyone else.

Unrolling the scroll unnerved me. After being given one inscribed with my son’s name, I couldn’t help but hold my breath. Probably would every time I did it.

Shaun Williams.

I set my captive breath free. Didn’t know him. The address scrawled on the yellowed parchment wasn’t familiar either, but I knew the city well enough to recognize it was close. I read the time of death, then checked my watch.

Two minutes from now.

The sound of shoes hammering pavement reverberated off the alley’s brick walls. I got my legs moving again and took a corner, feet tangling in a pile of garbage bags and spilling me to the pavement. My shoulder hit hard and I skidded a couple of feet along the damp ground, filth snow-plowing onto my jacket. I scrambled to my feet, glanced ahead and behind as the footsteps grew louder, and realized the futility of my flight. Facing my pursuer seemed the only option. Maybe I could talk my way out of it before my appointment came and went.

Damn it.

Bad things happen to good people when I miss appointments. And to bad people; also, the Swiss.

I backed down the alley and didn’t have to wait long for the man chasing me. He rounded the corner, avoided the garbage bags which had tripped me, and skidded to a halt in a pool of light cast by a security light mounted high overhead. The dress pants he wore looked a year or so beyond their best-before date; a long wool coat covered a rumpled dress shirt which may never have made a dry cleaner’s acquaintance. I might have noticed more but the gun in his hand distracted me.

“Mr. Fell,” he said between panted breaths. “If that’s really your name.”

“It’s the name the bastard gave me,” I muttered glancing from gun to a face I’d met a few times and seen many more on the news. The muscles in my jaw clenched and released as I silently counted the passing seconds in my head. “We seem to meet under awkward circumstances, don’t we, Detective?”

“Sometimes happens between serial killers and cops.”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Right.” He leveled the gun, his eternally tired eyes unwavering. “And I’m Serena Williams. Put your hands behind your head.”

A little firework went off in my brain, interrupting my mental countdown. He obviously wasn’t Serena Williams -- wrong sex, wrong skin color, and he didn’t look like much of a tennis player -- so why pick her out of a thousand possible celebrities to use sarcastically? I chanced pissing him off and stole a peek at my watch: t-minus one minute. My gut wrenched one twist to the right.

If I don’t get out of here quick--

The thought cut off half-formed, bullied aside by another. The detective was the lead investigator in the Revelations Reaper case, the guy the newscasts interviewed no matter how uncomfortable he looked on camera, so I’d seen his face a hundred times on TV. And every time they showed him offering his oft-quoted ‘no comment’, they emblazoned his name on the screen in white letters.

How did I miss it?

Detective Shaun Williams.

I raised an eyebrow. “Detective Williams?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Now that we’ve been properly introduced, put your fucking hands behind your head before I shoot you.”

I peered past him, then to both sides. With his name on the scroll in my back pocket, there had to be someone waiting to ambush this man scheduled to die in about forty-five seconds.

“You need to get out of here,” I said, eyes still searching the shadows. “You’re in danger.”

“Me?” He stretched his arm toward me, pushing the barrel closer. “If you don’t get your hands up right now, you’ll never walk again.”

The seconds ticked off in my head, echoing down the hallways of my mind. I gritted my teeth, fought the compulsion to try and save him.

Not my job.

They sent me to retrieve his soul after his death, not prevent it. But so many already died because of me and my poor choices. Maybe this was an opportunity to make amends--with myself, if no one else. My eyes found his and held his gaze for a second; I didn’t have much more than that.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” I murmured and darted toward him, moving faster than he expected an out-of-shape-almost-forty guy like me could.

He squeezed the trigger but I was on him before he got the shot off. The gunshot nearly deafened me, the explosion echoing through my head, ringing in my ears. My arms encircled him, pinning his at his sides, and inertia carried me forward, driving him to the ground. Breath whooshed out of his lungs when we hit, but I didn’t let go.

“This is for your own good,” I said into his ear. His body jerked but my grip held. The last few seconds counted down in my head.

Five...four...three...two...one.

When I reached zero, I held on a few seconds longer in case my timing was off or my watch was slow. Nothing happened. No gunshot, no one jumping from the shadows; a grand piano didn’t drop from a balcony. Nothing.

I leaned back, a hand on his gun arm to prevent him from shooting me. Some thanks that would be for saving his life. I gripped his wrist expecting him to squirm away, but he didn’t. His lack of movement should have tipped me something was wrong, but I was too concerned with making sure we weren’t about to be attacked to notice. Nothing moved in the shadows, no one approached down the alley.

Could the scroll have been wrong?

Unlikely, but it happened before, when other forces manipulated events. How did I know the same wasn’t the case this time?

I didn’t.

A small movement caught my eye and I looked left to see a figure standing five yards away. Fear forced bitter, electric saliva into my mouth like I’d bitten down on a piece of aluminum foil, and I snatched the gun from Detective Williams’ hand, jerked it toward the silhouette. The man didn’t react, but simply stood watching. His presence made a knot form in my stomach which worked its way quickly into the back of my throat. The figure stepped forward into the light and the muscles in my forearm tensed, my finger brushed the trigger. It only took a second to realize he wasn’t as opaque as he should be.

This wasn’t a man, but a dislodged soul.

“What--?” I began but the lump in my throat got the better of my voice.

My brain finally registered the detective’s lack of movement and I looked from the soul to the detective’s face. His tired eyes stared up at me blankly; a dark circle of fluid spread across the grungy pavement beneath his head.

“No, I--”

The sight of his glazed eyes hit me like a spinning kick to the gut, stealing my breath and energy. My gun arm sagged, the police-issue .38 resting against my thigh, forgotten. I resisted the urge to shake him by the lapel of his wool coat or slap him awake, call out his name. I already knew what the result would be. The overhead light reflected in the pool of liquid around his head making a grisly halo.

I was responsible for another death.

I shook my head in disbelief and looked back at the spirit. There were no black bags under its eyes or worry lines at the corners of its mouth, but there was no mistaking to whom the soul belonged: except for the felt fedora tilted over the soul’s left eye like he’d stepped out of a Mickey Spillane novel, the spirit wore the same clothes.

“I didn’t--”

My words stuck again. Or maybe I didn’t want to complete the sentence because it would make what happened real. No need to worry, the ghost took care of that piece of business for me.

“You killed me.”

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ON UNFAITHFUL WINGS

To some, death is the end; to others, a beginning. To Icarus Fell, it should have been a relief from a life gone seriously awry.

But death had other plans.

Icarus doesn't believe that the man awaiting him when he wakes up in a cheap motel room is really the archangel Michael, or that God's right hand wants him to help souls on their way to Heaven. Icarus doesn't believe there's a Heaven, so why should they want his help?

But the man claiming to be the archangel tempts him with an offer he can't ignore--harvest enough souls and get back the life he wished he'd had.

It seems Icarus has nothing to lose, until he botches a harvest and the soul that went to Hell instead of Heaven comes back to make him pay by threatening to take away the life he hoped to win back.

To save the wife and son he already lost once, Icarus will have to become the man he never was. Somehow, he will have to learn to believe.

Bruce Blake lives on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. When pressing issues like shovelling snow and building igloos don't take up his spare time, Bruce can be found taking the dog sled to the nearest coffee shop to work on his short stories and novels.

Actually, Victoria, B.C. is only a couple hours north of Seattle, Wash., where more rain is seen than snow. Since snow isn't really a pressing issue, Bruce spends more time trying to remember to leave the "u" out of words like "colour" and "neighbour" than he does shovelling (and watch out for those pesky double l's). The father of two, Bruce is also the trophy husband of a burlesque diva.

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Chase Me – A Sage McGuire Romance

Quirky,
Private Investigator, Sage McGuire, solves missing person cases. Sergeant
Carter Morgan of the Portland Police Department solves violet crimes.

 

Sage McGuire has a great job she loves. All
that changes in the blink of an eye when her long-time boss, Mr. Smithfield,
has an accident involving an over-sized rubber band. Mr. Smithfield’s
semi-worthless son, Daniel, takes over Smithfield Laboratories and Sage
rethinks her career choice.

Sergeant Carter Morgan of the Portland Police Department solves

Romance Between The Pages...

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With over 1.5 million books sold world wide, Laurelin Paige is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author. She is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She's also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn't do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.

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TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY by Melissa Foster

TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY

a stand-alone romance

by Melissa Foster

Genre: Contemporary Romance

A new, emotionally riveting, sexy standalone romance by New York Times bestselling author Melissa Foster. Watch mysteriously sexy Bear Whiskey claw his way to his happily ever after with sassy, rebellious Crystal Moon.

In TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY…

Eight months is a long damn time to have the hots for a woman who keeps a guy at arm’s length. But Crystal Moon is no ordinary woman. She’s a sinfully sexy, sass-mouthed badass, and the subject of Bear Whiskey’s midnight fantasies. She’s also one of his closest friends.

Just when Crystal thinks she has her life under control, scorching-hot, possessive, aggressive, and fiercely loyal Bear pushes all her sexual buttons, relentless in his pursuit to make her his.

The more Bear pushes, the hotter their passion burns, unearthing memories for Crystal that are best kept buried. But there’s no stopping the collision of her past and present, catapulting the two lovers down an emotionally charged road that has them questioning all they thought they knew.

"When it comes to contemporary romances with realistic characters, an emotional love story and smokin' hot sex, author Melissa Foster always delivers!" The Romance Reviews

"Like Nora Roberts, Melissa Foster has captivated me with her fantastic, sexy, romantic stories." K. Winning

"One of the greatest contemporary romance authors of all time." Underneath the Covers

"I'm highly addicted to her stories, and still want to kick my own behind for taking so long to finally read her." The Power of Three Readers

They drove to Woody’s Burgers in silence, which was how he knew there was probably more to this than a shitty visit with her mother. He also knew she wasn’t going to tell him what was really going on. At least not yet. He came on strong, but they had a solid friendship that felt more like a relationship and went beyond his desire to finally taste her luscious mouth. He cared about her, and one way or another, he’d figure out a way to get her to talk. He had to, because knowing she was hurting and not being able to fix it made him want to tear someone’s head off.

He parked the truck and reached across the seat, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey.” He waited until she met his gaze. “Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to me.”

Her eyes fell to their hands, and a hint of a smile lifted her lips. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

Woody’s was a low-key burger joint with brick walls that had been painted white and bright green tables and benches. Overgrown ferns and decorative iron lights hung from metal rods along the ceiling. The floor was a mismatched patchwork of wooden planks. It didn’t look like much, but they had the best burgers and fries in Peaceful Harbor, and tonight Bear had the prettiest girl in the harbor on his arm, too. It was a good night, despite the cloud hanging over Crystal’s head. He’d shelter her from whatever storm came her way.

He slid into the booth beside her.

“There are two benches for a reason,” she pointed out.

“Oh, right.” He kicked his feet up on the bench across from them, the tips of his black leather boots visible over the edge of the table.

She laughed.

“Your turn.” He tapped her thigh, leaving his hand there as she lifted her feet beside his.

She pushed his hand from her thigh without a word, and he stretched his arm across the back of the bench.

“Are you always like this?” She picked up the menu and looked it over.

“You’ve known me for a long time. You tell me.”

“I know how you are with me. I mean with other girls. I’ve never been out with you, like on a date.”

He began kneading the tension from her shoulder. “Then maybe it’s time to remedy that.”

The waitress interrupted before she could respond, and they ordered burgers and fries, and Crystal ordered a milk shake. Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry mixed, please. She was unique in everything she did, and he loved that about her. Their food came quickly, and they made small talk about getting ready for Tru and Gemma’s wedding.

When he couldn’t stand the edge in her voice any longer, he said, “Tell me about your mom.”

She shrugged. “Nothing to tell. We’re not very close.”

“Why was tonight so rough?” He picked up a fry and dunked it in her shake as she lifted her burger to her mouth.

“Um…?” She lowered her burger to the plate. “What are you doing?”

“Dunking my fry in your shake.” He popped it in his mouth. “Haven’t we done this before?”

“No.”

“We’ve known each other for almost a year and we’ve never had fries and shakes? That’s not true and you know it.”

“You’ve never dunked your fry in my shake,” she clarified.

He brushed his shoulder against hers. “Whose fault is that? I would love to bury my fry in your luscious milk shake.”

She laughed. “Not happening.” She took a big bite of her burger, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk, clearly trying to avoid talking about that.

He finished his burger and put his arm around her again, dipping another fry in her shake. He held it up for her, and she swatted his hand away, pointing to her full mouth. Her eyes were wide, but smiling, which he totally dug.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what. Tell me why tonight was so rough, and I’ll leave your shake alone.”

She shook her head, and he dunked another fry. She whimpered, trying to swallow her burger as quickly as she could.

“My girl doesn’t swallow well. Noted.”

She laughed/snorted and choked on her burger. He patted her on the back, both of them laughing.

“I’ll help you with that whole swallowing thing,” he offered, which made her laugh harder, causing her to snort again.

She tried to catch her breath, and he dunked another fry.

“Hey!”

“Just try one. You’ll like it. I promise.”

She eyed the fry as if it were poison.

“One bite.” He dragged the fry along her lower lip. Leaning closer, he said, “You’d better lick that off before I do.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her tongue swept over her lower lip.

“Christ Almighty,” he grumbled.

She laughed. “That’s pretty good. Salty and sweet.”

“Stick with me, baby. I’ll make sure you get your fill of salty and sweet.”

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Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance, new adult romance (M/F, M/M, F/F), romantic suspense, thrillers, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa's emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family oriented. Her books have been recommended by USA Today's book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café.

Melissa has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Her interests include her family, reading, writing, painting, friends, helping others see the positive side of life, and visiting Cape Cod.

Melissa is available to chat with book clubs and welcomes comments and emails from her readers. Visit Melissa on Facebook or her personal website.

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