Twinkle (Sugandha) Varshney's Blog, page 342

The Starlight Chronicles by Lisa Orchard

The Starlight ChroniclesGENRE: Young Adult / Coming of AgeEDITOR: EsKape PressCOVER DESGINER: For the Muse DesignsLark Singer is seventeen years old and already on the way to a brilliant music career. But as she and her band, Starlight, gear up for a competition, life seems to be throwing her a few curve balls. The mysteries of her past seem to be unraveling, and she’s no longer certain she wants to know those answers or how knowing about her past will affect her difficult relationship with her mother. And when her best friend, Bean, changes things between them, all her plans for a musical future are placed in jeopardy. How can she balance her complicated personal life to keep her musical goals on track? Book One ~ Gideon LeeOriginal Release Date: Oct 19, 2014 Lark Singer’s relationship with her mother is prickly to say the least. As she enters a musical competition that could launch her career, Lark also searches for answers her mother would rather keep hidden. Throw into the mix the fact her best friend Bean has been acting strangely, and Lark finds herself launched into uncharted territory. Will her quest for answers sabotage her musical aspirations?
Chapter One I want to be like Gideon Lee. My lips move as I read the title of my essay. They twitch as I stifle a snicker. Looking around the room, I make sure no one has seen my facial tic. My eyes light upon the Presidents’ pictures lined up on the wall. They face me, each with a unique expression, and I wonder what they were thinking while they posed. They are above the clock so my gaze naturally falls on it. It’s almost time for lunch.I settle back in my seat and my lips twitch again. A feeling of defiant exhilaration washes over me like a tidal wave.Montgomery’s going to freak when he reads this.Despite my best efforts, a giggle escapes and the boy in front of me turns around and gives me the evil eye. I return the glare. He is slumped over, and sweat beads on his upper lip. I think this is odd — it’s rather chilly in the room — but dismiss it before I turn back to my essay.I bet old man Montgomery doesn’t even know who Gideon Lee is. This thought sends another giggle to the surface, but I quickly squash it by biting my lip.I picture him searching Gideon Lee’s name on the Internet. I see his expression changing from confusion to disgust. I imagine him taking off his black, thick-rimmed glasses and shaking his head. I hear him mutter, “Lark Singer, what are you doing?” He rubs his face. I can actually hear the rough sandpapery sound as his hand finds his day old stubble. He sighs and puts his glasses back on. “What am I going to do with you?”I remember when Mr. Montgomery first told us about the assignment. We were supposed to write an essay on someone we admire, someone who has contributed to society in some way. I know when he says this he wants us to write about an a historical figure. After all this is history class, but I raised my hand anyway.“Lark,” he called out as he stood at his lectern.“Do they have to be dead?”He cocked his head as he studied me with his piercing blue eyes. Then he ran his hand over his military style crew cut, and I watched as his salt and pepper hair flattened then popped back into place as if each hair was standing at attention. I could tell he wasn’t sure where this was going. “Well… I guess not.” That’s when he froze, as if he realized he had just opened a door for me and he wasn’t going to like what was on the other side. He shifted his weight, and looked down at the floor before he backpedaled. “But they have to have made a positive contribution to society. It can’t be about a mobster or anything like that.” Pursing his lips, he stared at me, fiddling with those glasses. “This is one half of your semester grade, Lark. I wouldn’t pull any funny stuff.”“Oh, I won’t. Scout’s honor,” I answered sweetly, placing my hand over my heart and giving him the scout salute, while inside I planned my rebellion.I have him. I’m going to write about Gideon Lee, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Amazon ~  Goodreads Book Two ~ Lark SingerOriginal Release Date: Dec 6, 2014 Lark Singer is seventeen years old and already on the way to a brilliant music career. As she and her band, Starlight, gear-up for an upcoming, life-changing band competition, though, life seems to be throwing her a few curve balls. The mysteries of her past seem to be unraveling, and she’s no longer certain she wants to know those answers, or how knowing about her past will affect her difficult relationship with her mother. And when her best friend, Bean, changes things between them, all her plans for a musical future are placed in jeopardy. How can she balance her unraveling personal life to keep her musical goals on track?
Chapter One
THE GUYS ARE impatiently waiting for me. Bean’s foot jiggles so fast; it appears as if a current of electricity runs through him. We have to be down at Pearl’s by seven.We’re all geeked about playing on stage, I can tell. Performing at Pearl’s gives us the face time we need for when it’s really going to count. The real event — the competition — is only a few weeks away. I pick up my pace, we have three hours to jam and grab some food before we go on stage.“Come on, Chickie,” he says, gesturing with his sticks as he settles into position behind his drums.Rushing forward, I plug in my amp. As I crank out a few chords to warm up, that old energy buzzes through my veins. After a couple of licks, I’m ready and my nimble fingers tingle. I’m wired. I love playing in front of a live audience. “Which one are we jamming on?” I look over at Bean and wait for his answer.His brow creases as he tries to decide. “This one here.” He holds up the lead sheet and waves it impatiently in the air.I squint to see it. It’s the one we titled “Secrets.” Pointing to the lead sheet sitting on Stevie’s stand, I get into position. I had taken a few minutes and titled Stevie’s lead sheets for him the other day.He nods. “Thanks.”Bean slams his sticks together and counts out. “One… two… three.”We’re off, filling the garage with musical energy. My body’s rigid, as if every muscle’s flexed and ready for action. Screaming chords fill the air, as my nimble fingers crank on my Gibson. I feel like I’m a live electrical wire, popping and snapping with unrestrained energy.When we’re done with that song, no one speaks. Instead, Bean holds up another lead sheet and then we’re off again. Tonight’s performance is going to be epic. I can tell just by how we’re coming together. I grin in spite of my intense concentration; my confidence is growing by leaps and bounds. We are so ready for this competition that I can feel it all the way down to my bones.After the second song, I hold up my hand and say, “Our sound smokes. But don’t you think we should play some of the music we’re going to be performing tonight?”Bean snorts. “Yeah. Probably.”We take a few minutes and discuss some of the songs we want to play. We usually crank out tunes that were big hits in the seventies and eighties, a lot of Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, and Rolling Stones. They’re more mellow than what we’ve been playing, but they’re still good melodies and the crowd at Pearl’s digs that classical sound. Playing this type of music broadens our musicianship, but there’s nothing like cranking out our own songs. After choosing a few of the harder tunes we immediately start jamming.We’ve chosen “Hotel California” by the Eagles. It’s a dark tune about moving to California and I love the melody. My guitar howls out the chords and I feel that quiver inside as I sing the lyrics. After cranking out three more Eagles’ songs, we change it up for a few Fleetwood Mac and Rolling Stones’ songs. They’re great dance tunes and we know we’ll get people out on the floor with these.After the last melody, we take a break. The garage seems to hum with the absence of our music. As if it was vibrating at a rapid rate and is slowly winding down because the music stopped. We all take swigs from the water bottles Bean brought out earlier and then sit in the folding chairs by the wall.“What time is it?” Stevie asks, screwing the cap back on his water bottle.“Time to get going,” Bean answers after a quick glance at his watch. “My brother should be here any minute to help me get my drum set down to Pearl’s.”“Cool. I guess I’ll ride down with Francine.” I grimace as I say this and Bean exchanges a look with Stevie.“I’ve got my parents’ Toyota for the night. You could ride with me,” Stevie offers with grin and a shrug.“Awesome.” I smile at him as my heart swells with gratitude for my band mates. The truce between Francine and me has been extended, mainly because I’ve beenavoiding her and there hasn’t been an opportunity to wage another war. So I welcome any opportunity to keep the avoidance plan going.A horn sounds off in front of the house. Moving to the garage door opener, I press the button. The Brown Turd sits in the driveway, rumbling and vibrating.“There’s my ride,” Bean says. “Can I get some help?”No one talks as we all gather around Bean’s drum set and help him disassemble it. It takes us about fifteen minutes to get everything in the car, but when we’re done, Bean’s satisfied with our work. He gives me a wink and says, “I’ll see you down there, Chickie.” Shifting his focus to Stevie, he says, “Later, dude.” They exchange a quick knuckle bump, and then Bean jumps in the car.As they pull out of the driveway, Stevie gives me a nudge. “Come on. Let’s get going.”I follow him back to the garage, where we grab our equipment and stow it in the backseat of his parents’ green sedan. Then we hustle inside and grab our coats. On my way out the door, I glance at my watch and realize we’ll just have enough time to eat before we play. Since we don’t charge for our performance, the owner of Pearl’s gives us our meal on the house. We’re okay with that because we need the face time and the food at Pearl’s is epically awesome.After we climb into the car, Stevie starts it and pulls away from the curb. “What’re you going to get?” he asks after adjusting his mirror.I tilt my head and think about it before I answer. “Probably a wet burrito.” I smile and face him. “How about you?”“That does sound pretty good. I’ll probably get one of those too.”We share a giddy laugh and then zoom down the road. I love Friday nights at Pearl’s, the relaxed atmosphere and the friendliness of the staff. The owner of the bar, whose actual name is Marge, always welcomes us with a smile. Her grandmother, the original owner, was Pearl.Marge is a rotund woman with big boobs and an even bigger heart. When I was a young girl, I’d been afraid of her. Afraid that I’d get lost in that big pillowy chest and suffocate.I snicker every time I think about that now and chalk it up to irrational fears of childhood.As we pull into the parking lot behind the bar, I turn to Stevie and say. “Hey, did Bean tell you we have a name for the band?”Stevie shakes his head as he puts the car in park and shuts it off. “Nope. What is it?”“Starlight.”Stevie grins and fiddles with his glasses. He repeats the name a couple of times, then turns to me, and says, “I like it.”I let out a squeal of delight. “I do too.”Stevie laughs because I’m not the type of girl that squeals. I’m much more levelheaded, but I can’t help it. We have our songs picked out and we have a name for the band. And the fact that we’re getting face time tonight is just frosting on the cake.“Where’s Bean?” I ask, scanning the parking lot for the Brown Turd.Stevie frowns. “I don’t know. He should be here by now.”“Well let’s get the equipment into the bar. Maybe by the time we’re done, he’ll be here.”“Okay.”Climbing out of the car, I scrutinize the area again and still no Bean. Disappointed, I sigh and grab my Gibson and my amp, then carry them inside. Stevie’s right behind me with his gear in tow.We trudge through the back door and find ourselves in a dimly lit hall. It’s narrow and smells of slimy grease and stale cigarettes. I figure this is where Marge’s staff comes when they want to have a smoke.Traveling down the narrow corridor, we pass a bathroom on the right and the kitchen on the left. Coming from the kitchen is the sound of meat frying on a hot grill, the clatter of dishes, and the barking of orders as the staff hustle around trying to get through the dinner rush.Inhaling a big whiff, I catch the scent of chipotle and cayenne pepper. Must be a Mexican dish is the special tonight, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation. We skirtthe main dining room and enter the bar area. At seven, Marge opens the divider between the two rooms and we’ll start cranking out the tunes.There’s a small stage at the back and we head in that direction. I flick on the light. It flickers before the room lights up. Booths with cracked upholstery line the walls, and there are tables sporting red plastic tablecloths with candles in the center of them. Surrounding the tables like troops taking a bunker, are chairs with the same type of upholstery as the booths.Stevie bangs into a table with his Fender and curses under his breath. I make it up on the stage and place my equipment on the left. Stevie likes the right side and Bean sits center stage, about five feet behind Stevie and me. There’s a small platform for him that sits about ten inches higher than the stage. This way Bean isn’t lost behind his drums. Stooping, I arrange my stand and amp so they’re out of the way, but accessible. Stevie does the same thing, and we’re quiet as we work.After I get everything situated, I glance toward the door and frown. Still no Bean. My stomach flutters. If we don’t have a drummer, we can’t play. I catch Stevie’s eye. “I’m getting nervous.”Stevie gives me a smile and says, “Chill. He’ll be here. You know Bean, he’s always running late.”Just as Stevie finishes speaking, Bean rushes in the door. He’s carrying one of his snare drums and his brother’s following behind him carrying his cymbals. I’m so glad to see him that my heart swells in my chest. The overwhelming urge to run up and hug him is so strong, that I have to clench my hands to stop myself. I play it cool and say, “Hey. We were wondering where you were.”He gives me a wide grin and says, “We had to make a quick stop.” He’s pumped — I can tell by his energetic motions and bright, shiny eyes. “I’ll be right back with the rest of my drums.” He winks at me and then turns to Stevie. “Would you care to help, kind sir?”Bean and Stevie share a laugh at Bean’s silliness, then leave to carry in the rest of the drums. Brian waves to meand bounds. We are so ready for this competition that I can feel it all the way down to my bones.After the second song, I hold up my hand and say, “Our sound smokes. But don’t you think we should play some of the music we’re going to be performing tonight?”Bean snorts. “Yeah. Probably.”We take a few minutes and discuss some of the songs we want to play. We usually crank out tunes that were big hits in the seventies and eighties, a lot of Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, and Rolling Stones. They’re more mellow than what we’ve been playing, but they’re still good melodies and the crowd at Pearl’s digs that classical sound. Playing this type of music broadens our musicianship, but there’s nothing like cranking out our own songs. After choosing a few of the harder tunes we immediately start jamming.We’ve chosen “Hotel California” by the Eagles. It’s a dark tune about moving to California and I love the melody. My guitar howls out the chords and I feel that quiver inside as I sing the lyrics. After cranking out three more Eagles’ songs, we change it up for a few Fleetwood Mac and Rolling Stones’ songs. They’re great dance tunes and we know we’ll get people out on the floor with these.After the last melody, we take a break. The garage seems to hum with the absence of our music. As if it was vibrating at a rapid rate and is slowly winding down because the music stopped. We all take swigs from the water bottles Bean brought out earlier and then sit in the folding chairs by the wall.“What time is it?” Stevie asks, screwing the cap back on his water bottle.“Time to get going,” Bean answers after a quick glance at his watch. “My brother should be here any minute to help me get my drum set down to Pearl’s.”“Cool. I guess I’ll ride down with Francine.” I grimace as I say this and Bean exchanges a look with Stevie.“I’ve got my parents’ Toyota for the night. You could ride with me,” Stevie offers with grin and a shrug.“Awesome.” I smile at him as my heart swells with gratitude for my band mates. The truce between Francine and me has been extended, mainly because I’ve been avoiding her and there hasn’t been an opportunity to wage another war. So I welcome any opportunity to keep the avoidance plan going. Amazon ~  Goodreads Book Three ~ StarlightOriginal Release Date: Feb 17, 2015 Everything is on track for Seventeen-year-old Lark Singer and her band Starlight. They have a great shot at winning the competition that can launch their musical career. But when Lark discovers they will be competing against her old nemesis Duane McIntyre things really heat up. How far will Lark go to win, and what will it cost her in the end?
Chapter One “AWESOME JAM session!” announces Bean as he twirls his sticks in the air.“We are so ready!” I exclaim. The competition is just a week away, but I’ve never been so ready for anything in my life. We have the smoking hot tunes. Four of them, and they’re full of positive energy. And we have the smoking hot name. Starlight. I love the way it rolls off my tongue when I say it.For a brief second, I think about who we’re up against for the competition and Duh-Wayne’s face floats into my consciousness. I shake my head to wash the image away. Nothing is going to ruin this chance for me, not even Duh-Wayne.The competition. It’s my one chance to get out of this town, to have the musical career of my dreams. The winner gets a paid-in-full opportunity to audition for American Singer and the winner of that gets a recording contract. I can almost feel the contract in my hand.Turning my attention back to the task at hand, I unplug my guitar. As I put my Gibson back into its case, Bean moves from his perch behind his drum set and squats next to me. “Hey, I’ve got to give Stevie a ride home, but after that would you like to go for a cruise?”“Yeah.” I give him a smile. “I would.”“Bean. Come on, I’ve got to get home,” Stevie says in a tone that’s not quite impatient.I stand. “Just let me put this away,” I say, patting my guitar case. I hustle inside and run my guitar up to my room.When I return to the garage, I hit the button and then sneak under the door as it makes its descent. Stevie’s standing just outside the passenger door, waiting for me to climb into the car next to Bean before he gets in. He’s thoughtful that way.I climb in and give Bean a nudge and a grin. He grins back and his eyes have that special twinkle that’s just for me.Stevie scrambles in and closes the door. “Let’s go.”Bean backs out of the driveway and heads down the road. The Brown Turd rumbles and backfires as he steps on the gas. I’m surprised Mr. Szasbo hasn’t made an appearance, but then I remember his cat. Ever since I saved his kitten, I haven’t heard a complaint from him. Maybe he has warmed toward me.It takes us fifteen minutes to reach Stevie’s house. A brick ranch with a long front porch and attached two-stall garage. The house doesn’t seem to match my friend. I expected him to live in some bungalow by the sea. Instead, he’s in small town suburbia and it dawns on me that I don’t even know what his parents do for a living.“I’ll catch you guys tomorrow,” Stevie says with a wave, pulling me from my thoughts.“Yeah. Tomorrow,” I say with a quick smile. I can’t wait for him to leave so I can be alone with Bean.“Later, Dude,” Bean yells before rolling up his window. I snuggle up to him as he steps on the gas and heads toward downtown. “So where do you want to go?”I shrug. “I don’t know. Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”He winks at me and says, “I know just the place.”“Where?”“You’ll see.” He gives me a mischievous smile that sends my heart racing. I love it when he looks at me like that.We make small talk while he drives to our destination. I’m shocked when we pull into a cemetery. “What are we doing here?”“You said you wanted to go someplace to talk.” He snickers. “We definitely won’t get interrupted here.”“No kidding,” I say as I stare out the window. The grave markers go by and I can’t help but think about the people lying beneath the ground. I wonder what kind of lives they had. As I think about these things, I realize there’s a lot of history in this cemetery.“So, what did you want to talk about?” Bean asks as he grabs my hand. The familiarity of the rough calluses onmy skin warms my heart. He stops the car and turns the engine off.“My mom admitted it.”“Admitted what?” Bean shifts in his seat and slouches against the driver’s door.I shift and turn toward him. Before I speak, I rub my fingers along the scar above my right eyebrow. It’s my bastard stamp. I got it the day Duh-Wayne called me a bastard and then laughed when I didn’t know what one was. As I recall the horrific fight we had, a shudder runs through me as I tell him. “She admitted that Jared Miller is my father.”“What?” Bean sits up straight and bumps his head against the window. Rubbing it he says, “When did all this happen?”“Last night.” I brush a curl away from my face. Amazon ~  Goodreads Lisa Orchard grew up loving books. She was hooked on books by the fifth grade and even wrote a few of her own. She knew she wanted to be a writer even then. Her first published works are the “Super Spies Series.” These stories revolve around a group of friends who form their own detective squad and the cases they solve. “The Starlight Chronicles,” is the next series that Lisa created with musical misfit, Lark Singer as her main character.Lisa resides in Michigan with her husband, Steve, and two wonderful boys. Currently, she’s working on the next book in the Starlight Chronicles Series along with a few new ideas that may turn into stand-alone novels. When she’s not writing she enjoys spending time with her family, running, hiking, and reading.         
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MoB Promosmagicofbookspromo@gmail.com

It Started In Texas by MB Feeney

IT STARTED IN TEXASName of cover designer – The Graphics ShedOfficial genre of book - Contemporary Romance
Leaving the familiar comfort of her UK home for a weekend in Texas is one of the craziest things Charlotte Evans has ever done. Celebrating her birthday with friends is the highlight of her year until she bumps into her favorite rock star, literally.Gage Weston is used to having women fall over themselves at his feet … A rock star, an actor, he’s got his fair share of female attention, but what is it about the Brit that grabs his attention from the moment they meet?Communication issues and crossed wires plague them as they try to work out what is going on with them across thousands of miles. Crazy friends and distance issues aside; can a relationship work, or is it a simple case of ‘a girl in every town’?
"Sounds awesome. I better let you get back to your friends. Mine will come hunting soon if I don't hurry back; it’s my turn to buy the drinks." He held out his hand again. "I'm Gage." I almost burst out laughing as I shook his hand, trying to ignore the warm feeling spreading up my arm."Charlotte, it’s nice to meet you.""You too. Sorry I knocked you on your ass, I hope it doesn't bruise." Oh my God, he actually fucking winked at me. Dare I?"Maybe I'll get you to check it later." Over his shoulder, I could see some of the girls goggling at me trying to listen to what was being said. "The troops have come to rescue me. I gotta go." With more than a hint of regret, I withdrew my hand from his once again."Yeah, see ya." He looked over his shoulder at everyone watching us before disappearing into the gents. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the Spanish Inquisition. Walking towards the girls, a huge grin on my face. As soon as I was within grabbing distance, they did just that and frogmarched me back to our table.I was in the middle of my non-story when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I was assaulted by those eyes once more as they looked directly into my own."You dropped your cell phone." Sure enough, in his hand was my mobile. I internally groaned as I remembered the wallpaper was a picture of him from a recent magazine interview that had been posted online."Thanks. I didn't even miss it." Our fingers touched with a sizzle, or so I thought. It could have been the booze."No worries Darlin'. How's the ass?" I saw mouths drop open around me at the blunt and flirtatious question."Its fine thanks. I'll keep my eye on it." My words made him grin again. I could get used to seeing that smile up close some more."Nice job if you can get it." He flashed us all another wide smile and then sauntered back to his band mates. Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Goodreads
M. B. Feeney is an army brat who finally settled down in Birmingham, UK with her other half, two kids and a dog. Currently at university studying for her BA (Hons) in primary teaching, she procrastinates on her assignments by listening to music of all genres and trying to get ‘just one more paragraph’ written on whichever WIP is open. She is also a serious doodler and chocoholic. Writing has been her one true love ever since she could spell, and publishing is the final culmination of her hard work and ambition. Her publishing career began with two novellas, and she currently has multiple projects under way whilst Honour, a compilation of her own military based shorts, was released in November 2013 and her short novel, The One That Got Away was released February 2015. Always having something on the go can often lead to block which eventually gets dissolved by good music and an even better book.  Her main reason for writing is to not only give her readers enjoyment, but also to create a story and characters that stay with readers long after the book is finished, and possibly make someone stop and think “what if...”             magicofbookspromo@gmail.com

Entwined Destiny by Nana Prah

Entwined Destiny by +Nana Prah Publisher: Decadent PublishingRelease date: January 12, 2015

Time is ticking away for Adjoa Twum. She has until the end of the year to find a guy, fall in love, and marry. Or else, her father will disinherit her from the family business. Adjoa hasn’t had success with the dating game. No man meets her expectations. Esi, her cousin, suggests a fake relationship with Adjoa’s best friend, Kwame Opoku, to pacify her relentless father.Kwame thinks Adjoa’s request is ridiculous. Posing as her boyfriend might get tricky, but he can’t say no to those beautiful eyes. Once the falsified relationship begins, things heat up. He discovers deep feelings for her, feelings that might lose Adjoa and her friendship. Should they take the chance and up it to the next level?







Adjoa’s polite knuckle knock hadn’t worked, so her fist had to meet the door. He could sleep through anything. “Kwame, it’s me.” When the door swung open, her eyes met a tall, sexy man with no shirt. The sprinkling of dark curly hair on his well-muscled chest forced her fingers to grip the handle of her bag so she wouldn’t reach out to stroke him.A bicep flexed as he reached up to rub his eye. She’d always been a sucker for a man with a well-toned body, and this one met all of her muscle criteria.Her gaze roamed up to the face scowling down at her. Holy crap. It was Kwame’s body she’d been ogling. She pushed past him so he couldn’t see her blush and headed into the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, she gulped it down. It didn’t come close to cooling her off. What was going on?“Why aren’t you dressed? It’s seven.” She glanced down at her watch. “Five after seven to be exact. You should be ready to go.”“I had a late night.”Another swig of water at the sound of the sexy rumble of his morning voice didn’t help with the quiver in her stomach. Who was this man and why did he affect her like this? She hadn’t felt this way since she’d had that brief flutter of attraction in college. It had been easy to get over him when he started dating that hussy architect major. “What were you doing? Computer work?” Please say yes. For years, they’d avoided detailed discussions about the people they dated; it seemed to be a mutual unspoken agreement between them.“You know me too well.”Relief flowed out of her in the form of a long exhale, glad he hadn’t been with a woman last night. Not that it should matter. Just because she’d asked him to be her fake man didn’t mean he couldn’t see other women. She didn’t even care. “Not good enough to circumvent you not being awake by now. Get going. Make it quick so both of us aren’t late.”As he shuffled toward the bathroom, her gaze wandered down to his tight ass. Placing the cold, half-empty water bottle on her warm neck, she snapped her attention away. All of a sudden, her nerdy friend Kwame had morphed into a tempting man.

Nana Prah is a multi-published author of contemporary, multicultural romance. Her books are sweet with a touch of spice. When she’s not writing she’s reading, indulging in chocolate, and enjoying life with friends and family.


Blog : www.nanaprah.blogspot.comTwitter: https://twitter.com/NanaPrahFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/NanaPrah.AuthorGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7202262.Nana_PrahGoogle + :  https://plus.google.com/u/0/+NanaPrah/posts

The Dark Dozen: Stories for Scarborough by Travis Luedke, C.N. Lesley, Danielle DeVor, Maer Wilson, Steven Ramirez, Jody A. Kessler, Louann Carroll, Ross G. Homer, M. Joseph Murphy, Robert P. Wills, Karenne Griffin, and Allan B. Anderson

The Dark Dozen: Stories for Scarborough by  Travis Luedke, C.N. Lesley, Danielle DeVor, Maer Wilson, Steven Ramirez, Jody A. Kessler, Louann Carroll, Ross G. Homer, M. Joseph Murphy, Robert P. Wills, Karenne Griffin, and Allan B. Anderson Genre: Horror, Science FictionRelease Date: December 2, 2015

***SPECIAL NOTE: SAVE A LIFE, BUY A BOOK*** 
This fund-raising anthology of Horror and Sci-Fi short stories was created to benefit Altoine Scarborough, a man in desperate need of a heart transplant. The stories, cover art, formatting, editing and compilation were all donated. Every penny of the royalties we receive will go to Al’s GOFUNDME project. (MW)

Vampires to ghosts to monsters—and futures we won’t want to see come true—fill this collection of dark stories that are sure to give you chills. This stellar, fan-favorite group, which includes award-winning and best-selling authors, brings a unique voice to some familiar and not-so-familiar creatures. Join Travis Luedke, C.N. Lesley, Danielle DeVor, Maer Wilson, Steven Ramirez, Jody A. Kessler, Louann Carroll, Ross G, Homer, M. Joseph Murphy, Robert P. Wills, Karenne Griffin, and Allan B. Anderson for a trip into the Darkness.


BROWN THE RECLUSE by Steven Ramirez – Ted Brown is a man slipping away from reality. Long estranged from his family and living in Seattle, he works at a job he no longer values and lately appears to be losing his memory. But when he discovers a spider in his apartment, that’s when things get really interesting.

THE RAID by Maer Wilson – Gamers are often loyal to their teammates. When Aelan and her friends tackle an evil dragon, that loyalty goes far beyond what anyone expects.

THE BONES by Danielle DeVor – Sometimes, things leave a residue, like the smell left behind when toast is burned. When a medical student brings a skeleton home to study, her child’s life will never be the same.

THE WHISPERING by Karenne Griffin – The small village of Gorland is horrified as their children kill themselves in what appear to be suicide pacts. But there is much more going on and only one child has the key.

THE DIARY OF A MADMAN by Robert P. Wills – Just because others don’t see the ghosts, doesn’t mean they aren’t real.

THE CALL: AN ANGEL FALLS NOVELLA by Jody A. Kessler – Professional shaman and cranky, anti-social ghost hunter, Chris Abeyta, finds spirits and helps them cross over to the afterlife. In his latest case, he and Juliana Crowson find the ghost of a girl trapped by time and a heart-wrenching tale of a camping trip gone terribly wrong.

THE FOUNDLINGS: JENNY’S TALE by Louann Carroll – Technology meets morality when Jenny loses her only friend. Terrified and alone she must choose between reentering the world or living the rest of her life in the dark.

MUMANS by Ross G. Homer – He found love in the most unlikely place. But could he keep the love he found?

A TALE OF TWO QUEENS AND A FROZEN HEART by Allan B. Anderson – Reily, an experienced troubleshooter, is hired to find two teams who have gone missing in a frozen wasteland. But even his skills may not be enough to survive what he discovers.

THE VAMPIRE AND THE VALIANT WARRIOR by M. Joseph Murphy – A noble thief in search of ancient treasure stumbles upon the den of a sadistic vampire.

HELL IS NEVER FULL by C.N. Lesley – When the seed of hate is sown it puts forth shoots of malice that bear flowers of evil. Time has no meaning for revenge.

DREAMS OF NIGHTLIFE LAS VEGAS by Travis Luedke – An author has an unexpected encounter with one of his most dangerous – and sexy – creations.

For more information about Al’s situation or to donate directly to his GoFundMe project, please check out these links below:

Any support to help save Al’s life will be deeply appreciated.
Al’s GOFUNDME Page – https://www.gofundme.com/l1911s
Al’s Facebook Page – WE HEART AL – https://www.facebook.com/We-Heart-Al-611995988938764/
Amazon – THE DARK DOZEN – http://goo.gl/H8lsPo

To read more about Al's story and how this anthology came about, visit Maer Wilson's website.




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The Keyholder by Claire Thompson

Title: The Keyholder
Author: NYT & USAT Bestselling Author Claire Thompson
Genre: Dark BDSM Romance
Tour Host: DRC Promotions


Synopsis:


Taken by an evil Master Keyholder - rescued by the Dom of her dreams...

Eva Sandler’s dream job as a house submissive at Hawthorne Dungeon becomes a seven-week nightmare of intense captivity at the hands of a dangerous Master Keyholder. Though forced to submit to the cruel taskmaster’s every erotic whim, Eva’s inner spark of survival burns hot. She will escape, whatever the cost.
Long-time Dom Jack McQuade aches for a loving D/s connection like that shared by his friends, Nora and Charles. When Nora finds desperate clues left by someone held prisoner in Hawthorne Dungeon, it leads them all to a harrowing discovery and introduces Jack to Eva’s stunning courage and determination.

Jack and Eva’s possible D/s relationship should be perfect, but when Jack holds back because of Eva’s previous experience—fearing he’s pushing her too far, too fast—it will take every bit of Eva’s spirit to show the Dom that his sub is much stronger than he ever realized.

A powerful story of passion, betrayal, erotic submission, but most of all—love.
Buy The Keyholder
buy @Romance Unbounded you can get 50% off you entire order by using code Joy50off at checkout (all file formats available)
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About The Author


Claire Thompson is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has been writing for nearly two decades, and has published over 60 novels. She writes BDSM romance and non-con abduction tales, spanning both m/f and m/m genres.
Her love affair is with all things D/s (Dominance/submission). Her work began as a romantic exploration of the BDSM life style, and then veered somewhat to the darker side of fantasy. She loves delving into the dark psyche of a twisted mind, and gaining insight into what might motivate such a person to do what they do. She does not create all black and white villains and heroes, but rather strives to develop real, complex and flawed human beings.
Claire doesn't want to simply provide an erotic thrill or evocative description. She seeks not only to tell a story, but to come to grips with, and ultimately exalt in the true beauty and spirituality 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.  
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Forgive Me By Kaithlin Shepherd

Get caught up on the Callaway series now.
Make Me Whole is on sale for only 99 cents.

Title:  Forgive MeAuthor:  Kaithlin ShepherdRelease Date:  December 11, 2015Genre: Contemporary Romance with a hint of cowboySeries:  Callaway Series, book 2
Cover Designer:  Claire Smith Publisher:  Hot Tree Publishing
Sometimes your first love is also your last.

Andrew Callaway doesn't do love — not since Amanda broke his heart and left him in a cloud of dust. Devoting himself to the family ranch, he’s determined to be the man his dad would be proud of, minus the one-night stands and stream of mistakes. Five years after watching her drive away, his first love is back. Andrew finds himself wanting more than meaningless easy conquests, a lot more.

Following her dream of becoming a chef, Amanda Watkins left Montana with a beat-up pickup truck and a broken heart. Five years after watching Andrew fade away in her rear-view mirror, she's back and is dead set on avoiding the man she still dreams about. When she's hired to cater for a Callaway celebration, sparks fly and old emotions run hot. If she thought the boy she knew was dangerous, she's about to find out that the man he became is lethal. 

Blame is a dangerous game to play, but forgiveness takes courage that may just prove too difficult to reach.

On sale for $2.99. Original price $3.99Amazon: US I UK I AU I CA
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Book 1 in the Callaway Series
On sale now for only 99 cents

All buy links HERE
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Kaithlin Shepherd was born and raised in Canada where she learned to figure skate and crafted a love affair with coffee. Growing up in a household filled by strong-headed women, she learned early on that life is what you make it. You’ve probably never met a bigger country music fan and in the words of Brooks and Dunn, she’s a die-hard ‘George Strait junkie.’ Constructing a world away from her real life, Kaithlin loves the feeling of creating a universe where her fans can forget about everything in their life. She loves writing about hot alphas and doesn’t shy away from turning up the heat with scorching hot sex scenes.

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MC: Blackhawk by L. Ann Marie

Blackhawk is part of the MC Series and the first book in the Foster series. A bit mystical, this is the story of what happens when a Foster care group home meets the MC... Cloud is a Mohegan Indian working with the MC and Baxter’s Security. As a trained military pilot, he becomes valuable to the MC during a full blown war. His heritage becomes one of the biggest strengths he brings to the table. CJ grew up in foster care and was determined to make a better life for kids stuck in the system. Her first meeting with the Club and Baxter’s starts off a little rocky…
Amazon US I Amazon UK The kids make breakfast for us. The kitchen is clean and the dishes are in the dishwasher. I’m so glad they took care of everything. We talk about what they have planned today. Darren and Brantley have the kids split into two groups. Taylor has computers today. He’ll pull one from each group throughout the day. I smile at their very grown up schedule. Cloud says he’s proud of them and can’t wait to see what they came up with. I love hearing him talk to them. He’s genuine and shows them respect. When the kids go to the living room Cloud comes up behind me. “I need to get to work. I told Christian someone will call when the kids are out. They may be busy, so expect it to be abrupt.” He’s so friggin’ sweet. “I’ll word it nice and sweet for him. Thank you for doing that. Be safe and come home to us,” I tell him, hugging his arms. I want to hug him, so I turn around and hug him. “I love you, Cloud Blackhawk. I’m proud of you for fighting for right and defending people you’ve never met. Go do your job, be safe.” “I love you, baby. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” He bends and kisses me. I love how he sets my body on fire. When he lifts his head I squeeze him. “Don’t rush, do what you need and know we’re all good. We’ll see you when you get here.” “You’re perfect,” He says, kissing my head, grabbing his flight bag and walking out the door. When I turn around Christian is there. “Someone will call when they have the kids.” He nods. I put my arms out and he comes to me. He’s been so sad since he had the vision. “They’ll get them out, baby.” I squeeze him tight. I can’t imagine seeing death like that and being expected to act like nothing’s happened just because it hasn’t happened yet. I need to talk to Tess and Sally today. “They might help. I’ll go see Tess; I don’t want it in my head, Mom. Jeremy was too weak to take it away. Can I go now?” He talks against my shoulder, so friggin’ sad. “Let me call her and see if it’s okay.” I pull my phone as I’m talking to him. Tess says to send him over. He’s gone with Hawk before I hang up. I turn toward the living room and I’m surprised by a knock at the door. Chase is smiling when I open it. “You’re early, Chase.” He nods. “Yeah, I know Cloud left. I just saw Cal run over to Tess’. I don’t want the boys worrying over the men not being here.” These giants are so friggin’ thoughtful. I open the door wider and let him in. “Thank you, Chase. They’re in the living room going over their schedule for the day.” He walks through. I guess I’ll get some work done while I’m waiting for the call about the kids. A former account executive, mother of three and grand mother of two. L. Ann lives in central USA where she found herself unemployed and having too much time on her hands. She decided to spend some time going back to her first love, writing. An avid reader herself she found stories floating around in her head that were just waiting to be written and thought she would test the waters. L. Ann has written two series, The MC and The Baxter’s, that’s a total of nine books to date dealing with Alpha males and strong women. She uses places she has lived as her backdrops, with Florida and North Carolina still waiting to be written.

A Kinky Xmas Carol

The Smutketeers Present: A KINKY XMAS CAROL The Knight Family is a wealthy, powerful Chicago clan that knows everything  there is to know about making money—but they still have plenty to learn about  love...lessons they'll be taught as they face their ghosts, fulfill their fantasies and finally discover the magic of Christmas in this three novella ménage anthology. Blinded to the present... Holly Knight doesn't have time for Christmas or for "closer" Ebenezer Hall. She can't deny that the chemistry is sizzling hot, and things get even hotter when Ben's friends and long-time lovers Justin and Kit arrive in Chicago. Can an infamous playboy and a hard-hearted corporate mogul ever admit to their heart's desires? Or will it take a little holiday magic for them to realize that all they want for Christmas is each other? “Holly,” Ben whispered in her ear, “Truly, if this is weird for you, tell me. It’s okay.” “And…” she looked at Kit, then at Justin, then finally turned to face Ben once more. “…if it’s weird, but I’m…interested, anyway?” Ben smiled, gloriously, his gray eyes lighting up. “Then we shall all do our best to ensure you never regret it.” “You’ve been pretty good at keeping your promises.” “So I have. And I promise you an evening you’ll never forget.” “We promise,” Kit said, coming around behind the sofa and laying a hand on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. Justin knelt with one knee on the sofa next to her. “Just tell us if there’s anything you want. Anything at all.” “Anything?” Her body was really heating up. Ben was warm and solid next to her, and the anticipation in the air was electric. She could sense the testosterone, the excitement. And the idea that they might all be getting hard, all at once, at that moment, was one of the biggest thrills of her life. Even better knowing there was much more to come. Ben pulled her closer and kissed her cheek. “Tell us, Holly.” “I don’t know if…any of you have ever been lovers?” Kit laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. “All of us.” “All of you together?” “Sometimes, yes,” Ben told her. “Or Justin and Kit. Or Kit and me. Justin and me. Or two of us, or all of us with a woman. In every possible combination.” God, her body was on fire simply imagining it. And it was going to happen! “What is it you want, sweetheart? Tell me. Tell us.” She nearly groaned aloud. “I want it all,” she said quietly. “Then you shall have it,” Ben said. She didn’t know if he sent the others a signal she missed, but Justin peeled his sweater off just as Kit did, and she barely had time to turn and take in Kit’s leanly-muscled frame before Ben and Justin pulled her sweater over her head. “Do you want them to kiss you, Holly?” Ben asked her. Was that a trick question? “Oh, yes. And I really want to see you kiss each other.” “I have a feeling we’re all going to enjoy this,” Justin said, leaning across her lap and reaching out to pull Ben to him. Their mouths met, two sets of lush male lips, and it was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. Their kissing was rough, hard, pure male. She ached all over to be touched. And as if in answer to her silent need, Kit brushed her hair to one side, then slid his hands over her bare shoulders and down to cover her breasts. Her nipples came up hard beneath her black silk bra. “Mmm…” He bent and kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver. He kissed her over and over, soft, feathering kisses all over her skin: her nape, between her shoulder blades, the tops of her shoulders. He cupped her breasts with his big hands, his thumbs stroking her nipples through the silk. And all the while Justin and Ben were kissing, making out like crazy, everything getting more heated. Justin yanked Ben’s sweater over his head and ran his hands over Ben’s chest. They stood, Ben’s arm slipping from her waist to Justin’s, while Justin pulled Ben closer with a hand on his ass. Their bodies came together, bare chest to bare chest, and their mouths met once more. Kit was bending over the back of the sofa, his hands diving under her bra. “Let’s have this off,” he said, tugging down her bra straps. “Yes. Take it off. Please.” She heard his small chuckle as he unsnapped the bra, slid it from her shoulders. His fingertips brushed her bare skin. Her nipples were almost impossibly hard. She grabbed Kit’s forearms, ran her hands over the muscle there. She needed more. “Kit…Ben?” Ben pulled back from Justin, and she could see his breath heaving in his chest. “Tell us, beautiful girl.” “I need my clothes off. And yours. All of you.” Ben flashed her a grin, his eyes full of smoke and need. “Your wish is our command. And our great pleasure. Strip it down, boys.” Ben slid his jeans off, and he was fully hard, his gorgeous cock making her mouth water. She wanted to touch him. She wanted Kit or Justin to even more. To her right Justin tore his jeans off, then his black boxer-briefs. His erect cock was longer than Ben’s, if not as thick, but beautiful in its own way. He watched her, his dark eyes aglow as he gave it one long, slow stroke. “Is this what you wanted to see, Holly?” he asked. “Oh, yes,” she murmured. Kit kissed her neck once more, said quietly, “Three is even better than two.” He released her and came around the front of the sofa to stand before her. He unzipped his jeans and kicked his way out of them. Like Ben, he wore nothing underneath. She pulled in a sharp breath. His thick cock was a lovely golden shade, the head a bit darker. He was rock-hard, his cock coming up against his lean abs. She swallowed, bit her lip. Her mouth was actually watering. “Come here, beauty,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “We need to undress you now.” Ben stood on one side of her and Justin on the other as Kit knelt and pulled her boots off while the others steadied her. Then Ben unzipped her jeans and Justin and Kit helped her out of them. Ben nuzzled her ear. “Such lovely underwear, it’s almost a shame.” “But she was specific,” Justin said. Kit winked at her as he reached to pull her silk thong down, leaving them all naked. So much naked flesh… “I have to say…” Her voice was quavering, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. “I have to say, this is a little overwhelming. I hardly know where to start.” Ben stroked a hand up her side, under the curve of her breast. “Don’t worry. I’m fairly certain it’ll come naturally to you.” There were hands all over her then, stroking her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. Ben turned her face to his and kissed her, and she could taste the masculine flavor of Justin on his lips. Desire was burning her up, like fire in her aching breasts, in her clenching sex. She kissed Ben harder, held onto him. Hands moved over her body, cupped her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples. More hands parting her thighs, diving in between them, stroking at her tender pussy lips. She spread wider, and as Ben’s tongue swirled over hers it almost felt as if the fingers sliding in the folds of her soaking pussy were his tongue, licking her, pressing on her clit. She felt Justin moving in closer beside her, the hard muscles of his thigh next to hers, and she reached blindly, found his cock, warm and pulsing in her hand. She began to stroke.. Avoiding the future…  Video game mogul, philanthropist and heir to the Knight empire, Tim Crichton has three F-zones—the friend zone, the family zone, and the, er… fun-buddy zone. No crossover is allowed because it might create a fourth—the forever zone—and Tim knows forever just isn’t in the cards for him. But with Peter and Miranda together, a little Christmas magic quickly escalates to a scorching holiday encounter that will either rescue Tim from a lonely future…or cost him the two most important people in his life. “Ohhhhh, fuck,” he groaned, sliding his hands into her hair as he took deep, shaky breaths. Thrilled by the way his cock seemed to thicken in her mouth, she swirled her tongue over it, following the ridge all the way around and up into the hollow on the underside. It didn’t feel anything like the fake ones she’d practiced on, and oh, what a difference! Hot, smooth, paper-thin flesh barely concealed the vibrant physiology inside. With her tongue, she could feel his veins along the surface, and underneath, the unyielding columns that seemed to grow even harder as she explored him. It was nothing short of miraculous. And the scent of him… God, she’d never be able to put one of those silicone toys in her mouth again after experiencing this. She inhaled deeply, savoring the bouquet of warm denim, soap and man, memorizing it for future fantasies. Curious beyond reason, she pushed her tongue into the opening at the tip and tasted something silky and musky, something that made her heart pound and her mouth water. He gasped and pushed her head down a little. “Miranda, suck. Please.” She thought about the honey bear on the table and decided to leave it there. She liked the taste of Peter all by himself. Taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, she sucked, milking him with her tongue, and watched as the sac holding his balls drew up tighter. Fascinated, she stroked it with a finger. It felt completely different from the flesh in her mouth, a little rough and a little hairy except for a smooth, silken patch underneath. Peter’s breathing grew rough, every exhale almost a moan. Though his hands tightened in her hair, he said, “You might want to stop.” She pulled away and shook her head, breathing almost as hard as he was. “I want to taste it.” “You want me to come?” he asked tightly. “Yes. Tell me what you like. “I can do that.” He blew out a breath. “Get me nice and wet with your mouth.” Giving him a little smile, she said, “I can do that.” When she leaned down again, he put his hand on her thigh. “Wait. Take off the dress first. I want to see you.” Miranda flushed but obeyed, reaching behind her neck with both hands to lower the zipper. When it was between her shoulder blades, she reached up behind her with her left hand to bring it down to her hips and then shrugged out of the bodice. The sheer white balconet bra and thong set she’d worn tonight, just to bolster her courage and make her feel ultra-feminine, had been insanely expensive, but the look on Peter’s face as she shimmied out of her dress made it worth every penny. “Thank you, Frosty,” he murmured, wrapping the fingers of one hand around her neck before dragging them slowly down her sternum and stomach. “Frosty?” Peter nodded, sliding his hand around to rub her bare bottom. “Frosty the doorman gave me an angel for Christmas.” “Oh he did?” she asked with a quizzical smile. “He did. Now, where were we?” “Right about here, I think.” She opened her mouth over him once again, working up as much moisture as she could and painting it onto his rigid flesh with her lips and tongue. “Mmmm, that’s very nice,” he said, rubbing her hip. “Now stroke it, slow and hard. Milk it.” Miranda bit her lip. God, this was so hot. Were men this turned on when women told them what to do? Holding his eyes, she licked her hand provocatively. “Asking for trouble, little girl,” he murmured, his lips curving lazily. “Yes, I am,” she murmured back, meaning every word of it. “Then you’ve found your man.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his slick shaft. Covering it with his own, he squeezed hard and dragged her palm up the thick length, twisting it over the head before dragging it back down to the base. He did it again, and then again. Then he folded one arm under his head and stroked her hip with the other while she flew solo. As she performed, she watched Peter watch her hand. His mouth was slightly open, his eyelids at half-mast, and as he began to pant, color rose in his cheeks. “Speed up a little,” he told her roughly. When she did, he pulled his arm out from under his head with a groan, gripped the top edge of the ottoman with both hands and began thrusting into her strokes. God, he looked magnificent, almost animalistic as he arched upward with his jeans around his thighs. “Fuck, yes, that’s good.” “You are so incredibly beautiful,” she breathed. His eyes flashed open. “Miranda, suck,” he ground out. “Now.” She leaned over without hesitating and sucked hard while he fucked her mouth. The way he held her head firmly in place made her nipples draw up tight and stirred the embers of desire between her legs into a blazing inferno. Within a minute, his legs began to shake and his thrusts grew shallow, and then he growled low and long. “Get ready, angel,” he warned. “I’m going to come just…about…oh fuck…now.” Miranda trembled with excitement when he pulled her head back until just the tip of him was still in her mouth. His whole body jerked as streams of hot, wet musk landed on her tongue in time with contractions she could feel with her lips. Her first instinct was to swallow, but she waited. When his hands relaxed on her head, she released him and sat up, rubbing his semen between her tongue and the roof of her mouth while she watched his cock, which didn’t go down as fast as she thought it would. “Well, what do you think?” he asked between deep breaths. She swallowed. “Not what I expected. It reminds me of oysters.” He started laughing. “Dear Diary, performed BJ today. It tasted like oysters. Love, Miranda.” When she laughed too, he said, “You can chase it with some honey if you like. I won’t be offended.” She shook her head, licking her lips and savoring the taste. “I’m good.” “You are.” He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her silly, swiping his tongue all over the inside of her mouth as if he found the taste of his semen as enthralling as she did. Then he rolled them to their sides. “So what else haven’t you tried? Have you ever been on the receiving end?” he asked, deftly unfastening her bra and drawing the strap down her arm. She stiffened. “Um, I don’t think that’s—” “Okay, so that would be no.” He rolled over on top of her and sat up, tossing her bra onto the couch behind him as he straddled her hips. Miranda couldn’t take her eyes off his cock, which still spilled out of his open jeans, its wet head resting on her abdomen. The casual intimacy of that sticky contact between them made her heart race and body heat. “Beautiful little tits,” he murmured, cupping them with his hands and rubbing his thumbs gently over the hard points of her nipples. Miranda moaned, unable to stop the slow roll of her hips in response. “How daring are you, Miranda Girard?” Peter asked, with a challenging look. Her breath caught in her throat. “How daring do you want me to be?”    Running from the past... Marley Knight-Williams has avoided the ghosts of her past for seventeen years. Now, after one thoughtless decision and too many margaritas, they've found her. Her memories, her heartache...and her men, Michael and Carlos. Just in time for the holidays. Time has changed them all, but it's only banked the embers of their passion, and when the flames flare to life, they burn hotter than ever. Will the heat be enough to sear away the obstacles that stand between them? Or will it drive them apart before they can finish what they started all those years ago? “What’s your wife bringing?” Michael shut the door and furrowed his brow. “Excuse me?” She wasn’t going to ask again. She walked over to the desk and touched the paperweight shaped like a boxing glove. She’d gotten that for Michael’s father when she was thirteen. It was still here. “Marley,” he huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “My wife won’t be bringing anything. I’m not married.” She shrugged, not turning to look at him, though she felt a rush of relief she knew she had no right to. “I was sure Jessica Ryan would have had you cornered before you hit twenty-one.” “Jessica Ryan was already hooked up by the time I turned twenty-one.” Michael’s wry tone forced her to turn to face him. “She and Anna Poole are still together, as a matter of fact. They co-coach the cheerleading squad for our old high school.” Jessica and Anna? Marley felt her eyes go wide. They’d been two of the most promiscuous girls in school. Who saw that coming? “I guess I’ve missed a lot.” She swallowed as she stared at the ridges of his stomach, the dark color of his nipples and the droplets of sweat cooling on his skin. She wanted to lick it off his body. Wanted to feel it on her skin. “Everything is so…um…different. I shouldn’t have come.” “Not everything, princess,” he growled, moving closer slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. “Some things appear to be exactly the same.” Did he mean the way she reacted to him whenever they were alone? The way her throat closed and her thighs heated whenever he looked at her the way he was looking at her now? She’d imagined this office so many times. The cot in the corner where she and Michael had once lain in silence, listening to the grunts of the men working out downstairs while she allowed him to touch her. Just touch her. Over her clothes. On her newly budding breasts. Between her thighs. It had been exciting and forbidden. The possibility of being caught. The innocent eroticism of the moment. Grown-up Marley wanted more. She imagined him bending her over the desk and taking her. Now, when everyone knew she was here. When they’d all be able to hear her cries of pleasure. She really needed to get a hold of herself. “I know about Carlos,” she said, shifting and feeling the denim of her jeans graze her sensitive sex. “I want to help. I just…I’m not sure what you want from me. Or why you think I could do anything at all.” Michael smiled. “You’ve always been good at changing the subject, princess. But I’ll let it slide for now since you actually showed up. The answer is on the bookshelf. The envelope beneath the little tree.” A small, potted evergreen. He was still doing that? They’d gotten one every year, decorated it carefully, then made sure to plant it somewhere the day after Christmas. So the memories would live on as long as the trees were growing. It was Carlos who’d started that tradition, but Marley had always loved the sentiment. She walked over to the bookshelf near the window and lifted the pot. A crumpled, stained envelope, right where he said it would be. She opened it and began to read, feeling heat warm her cheeks and pain squeeze her heart. This was too intimate. Too personal. She didn’t have the right anymore. Not to have this kind of window into the tender soul of a man she hadn’t seen in so long. Oh, Carlos, she silently sighed. She hadn’t even seen him and he was already breaking her heart. When she finished reading her sigh was shaky. “You think that’s what he wants? I don’t know if I can… Michael? What are you doing?” He’d come up behind her, gripping her hips with his strong hands as he pressed his erection against the curve of her ass. “I can’t fucking help it, Marley. I’ll stop if you tell me to but, seeing you in here, like this—do you remember?” He knew she did. He rocked his hips against her and she gasped, her fingers tightening on the pages of the letter as he slid his hands up to caress the sides of her breasts. Lightly. Teasingly. His voice was rich with need. “I’m not talking about the touching, though I remember that too. I’m talking about that time you and Carlos caught me in here before the gym was open. When I’d slept here again because the family had descended and we had no more room in the house. That morning I woke up dreaming about you, still smelling your shampoo on the pillow. I was only seventeen. I didn’t have as much practice at control. Didn’t think I needed to.” How could she have forgotten that? Her eyes closed and she could see it so clearly. She’d come in right before Carlos, both of them smiling in secret delight at the idea of waking him with their frozen hands and a bag of his favorite kolaches from the corner bakery. She’d never seen an erection before. Certainly she’d never seen Michael’s. Never imagined she’d be so instantly titillated by the way he gripped it in his fist, his naked hips pumping upward as he gritted his teeth and made a sound that was almost one of pain. Carlos had taken her hand in his and squeezed, trying to drag her backward without disturbing him. She’d resisted. She wasn’t sure why. She only knew she wanted to see more. Needed to see everything. Michael’s voice in her ear told her he was remembering it too. “I opened my eyes just in time to see you lick your lips. Did you know you’d done that? Licked the same lips I was imagining wrapped around my cock?” He growled. “Knowing you were watching had me coming harder than I ever had. Watching those pretty green eyes go wide when you saw it happen—fuck—I knew in that moment that you wanted to know. What it tasted like. What I tasted like. Was I right?” “Yes,” she whispered. Lost in the moment. The memories. One hand slipped down again, unbuttoning the button of her jeans. “Tell me to stop, Marley.” When she didn’t, he slid his hand inside her panties until his fingers were pressed against her clit. “There it is,” he sighed. “That’s what hasn’t changed. I still make you wet. Still make you want. After all this time, you still want to know, don’t you? Still want to know what could have happened. You must, because you haven’t pushed me away. Haven’t told me to stop or slapped my face.” She shook her head, but they both knew she was a horrible liar. Even as she tried to deny it, she set the letter down and covered his hand with both of hers, forcing his fingers to press harder against her, to move lower. Michael hummed. “Yeah, you still love this. The princess can hide in her tower all she wants, but we know the truth, you and I.” He lowered his voice to a whisper that skimmed across her cheek like a caress. “We know what a bad girl you are.” She was bad. Jesus, she needed to stop him before she came. It had been so long—how could his touch still do this to her? It took away all her defenses. Made her ache for more. His middle finger slipped inside her with shallow thrusts and she gasped, her nails digging into the back of his hand until he growled. The sound of the office door creaking open made her tense an instant before she heard the irritated male voice. “Jesus, Michael. In the middle of the day? If you have company you should at least lock the damn door.” AMAZON US I AMAZON UK I BARNES & NOBLE I SMASHWORDS I ARe Eden BradleyNew York Times & USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author Eden Bradley aka Eve Berlin writes dark, edgy erotic fiction. Her work has been called ‘elegant, intelligent and sensual’. Her debut novel, THE DARK GARDEN, has been praised as ‘a masterpiece’, and was a Romantic Times Top Pick. Her novels and novellas have been translated into German, Romanian, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Czech, Polish and Japanese. As someone who has been involved in BDSM practice for much of her adult life, she relates in particular to her kink stories, infusing them with her own truth about kink practice from her life experiences. Eden speaks regularly on BDSM psychology and practice, as well as sex positive culture for women.
Robin L. RothamRobin L. Rotham is a bestselling, award-winning author of erotic romance for Samhain Publishing. Though her genres run the gamut from contemporary to futuristic and sci-fi, and even to fairy tales, Robin’s stories all include ménage and BDSM themes. She loves exploring evolving sexualities and the fluidity of D/s dynamics in her writing. Robin is married to a farmer, currently has four teenagers, and lives in rural Nebraska.
R.G. AlexanderR.G. Alexander (aka Rachel Grace) is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author who has written over 30 erotic paranormal, contemporary, sci-fi/fantasy books for multiple epublishers and Berkley Heat. She is a founding member of The Smutketeers, an author formed group blog dedicated to promoting fantastic writers, readers and a positive view of female sexuality. She has lived all over the United States, studied archaeology and mythology, been a nurse, a vocalist, and now a writer who feels lucky everyday that she gets to share her stories with her readers. She loves talking to them on twitter and FB. She is happily married to a man known affectionately as The Cookie-her best friend, research assistant, and the love of her life. Together they battle to tame the wild Rouxgaroux that has taken over their home.
  Eden BradleyWebsite I Facebook I Twitter I Smutketeers Blog I Pinterest I Amazon Author Page Robin L. RothamWebsite I Facebook I Twitter I Amazon Author PageR.G. AlexanderFacebook I Twitter I Pinterest I GoodReads I YouTube I Amazon Author Page

The Proposal by J. Griffin

Carrie Harper's life with commodities trader Josh Hobbs had been all gold and diamonds. All that glitters isn't gold though. Her friend sets her up with a tall, handsome, aloof stranger, but can she forget Josh? Blind dates never work out do they? She enjoyed the date. Enough said. A standalone billionaire romance sure to make you want more.
Amazon US I Amazon UK

An Egyptian Affair by Cheryl Bolen

An Egyptian Affair by Cheryl Bolen Series: Regent Mysteries, #4Genre: Regency Romantic MysteryRelease Date: December 15, 2015


A fresh romance with each new mystery . . .

While Captain Jack Dryden would lay down his life for the Regent, he draws the line at endangering his wife in the dark alleyways of Cairo—the place where the Regent's friend and procurer of antiquities has gone missing.

But Lady Daphne Dryden will not be denied the opportunity to see swaying palms, crumbling pillars, and soaring pyramids in exotic Egypt. She even insists on bringing her youngest sister, Rosemary, who's enamored of all things Oriental. The Regent insists on sending Stanton Maxwell,  England's most imminent expert on Egyptology, as their interpreter and his own soldiers as their protectors.

Once in Cairo, Jack and Daphne begin their inquiries, inquiries which almost certainly cause the murder of one woman and the abduction of Lady Rosemary. Will Jack's wits—and the unexpected bravery of Mr. Maxwell—be enough to extricate them from danger and unmask the evil-doers?



Jack bolted from their tent. "What's happened?"

"Rosemary's gone!" Daphne stood just inside her sister's tent, her hand still lifting the entry flap. "Someone's taken her!"

Shirtless and barefoot, Maxwell came rushing from his tent on the other side.

"This cannot be! I never heard a word .  .  . I swore I would protect her," he said, his voice forlorn.

The rear of Rosemary's tent had been slashed through. Jack whirled around to chastise the soldier he'd asked to guard Rosemary.

The fellow was sitting in the sand directly in front of Rosemary's tent, his head bent, chin on chest, eyes closed, hugging his musket to him as if it were a cherished woman. He was sound asleep.

Jack mumbled an oath as he began to shake the soldier. He did not readily awaken. Then Jack smelled it. Laudanum. "The guard's been drugged with laudanum!"

"We need to determine if anyone else is missing," Maxwell said, his voice commanding.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "It wouldn't surprise me to discover that one of our recently hired servants is responsible for Rosemary's abduction." His gaze returned to Rosemary's tent. "Daf, can you see if anything of your sister's is missing?"

She nodded solemnly.

By now Arbuthnot had made his way to join the others. He was fully dressed except for his coat. "Are you saying Lady Rosemary is missing? Are you sure she's not just gone exploring? Didn't she express a strong interest last night in seeing the mestabas?"

Jack faced Arbuthnot and spoke in a growl. "Some vile person slashed through the back of her tent and apparently carried her off."

Arbuthnot's eyes narrowed, and he uttered a curse.

Maxwell looked forlorn. "And I promised her I would protect her."

Jack placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. I was just as close to her tent as you were, and I slept right through her abduction."

"Dear God, I hope she's not intended for white slavery," Arbuthnot said.

Daphne poked her head out of the tent and harrumphed. "They'd be sure to bring her back. My sister is not only incompetent about cleaning floors and polishing furniture, but she's never in her life lifted a hand in pursuit of tidiness."

Jack coughed, and despite the gravity of the situation, his eyes twinkled with mirth. "It appears my wife is under a misapprehension about the nature of white slavery."




Cheryl Bolen is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 20 romances, both historical and contemporary mystery. Many of her books have placed in contests, including the Daphne du Maurier (romantic suspense) and have been translated into ten languages. She was Notable New Author in 1999. In 2006 she won the Holt Medallion, Best Historical, and in 2012 she won Best Historical in the International Digital Awards and she's had four other titles place in that competition. Her 2011 Christmas novella was named Best Novella in the Romance Through the Ages. She invites readers to www.CherylBolen.com, or her blog, www.cherylsregencyramblings.wordpress.com or Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cheryl-Bolen-Books/146842652076424.




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