When a tall, dark, and handsome stranger literally runs into Felicity Hills at a coffee shop and spills her iced mocha down the front of her shirt, she doesn’t think the embarrassing encounter will lead to anything more, let alone be the single event that causes her life to spiral out of control.
And now she can’t get him out of her head, and he’s making her question everything just when she thought she got a handle on this thing called life. Because Ben has it all. Good looks. A job as killer as his abs. Great hair and great skills in bed. There is no way someone as irresistible as him can be into someone like Felicity.
Right?
Emily Goodwin is the author of the twice banned dark romance, STAY, as well as over a dozen other titles. Emily writes all types of romance, from love stories set in the zombie apocalypse to contemporary romances taking place on a western horse ranch. Emily lives in Indiana with her husband, children, and many pets, including a German Shepherd named Vader. When she isn't writing, Emily can be found riding her horses, designing and making costumes, and sitting outside with a good book.
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Author: Kaithlin Shepherd
Release Date: October 6, 2015
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Series: Brass Series, Book 1
Cover Designer: Claire Smith
As one of the top Assistant US Attorneys in the country, Savannah Walker is smart, ambitious, and she doesn’t back down from a challenge, unless it comes in the form of Noah Johnson. Savannah’s been in love with her best friend’s brother longer than she cares to admit, but risking their friendship isn’t on her to-do list. When building a case against a drug trafficker, she’s assigned to a DEA task force led by the one man she can’t shake. She has no idea if this case will bring them together or tear them apart.
DEA, Noah Johnson, risks his life every day. With a world filled with blood and bullets, he’s unwilling to chance Savannah’s life. Keeping her at bay for years, Noah has forced himself to never cross that line, but lately, he can’t get her out of his head. When an investigation into a drug trafficker reveals a mole in Savannah’s office, Noah will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
When danger lurks around every corner and passions are riding high, not even Savannah or Noah know if they’re ready for admission.
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5 Things Readers Would Be Surprised to Know About Me
by Kaithlin Shepherd
2. I am a die-hard action film junkie. I’ve seen them all, and if it has Steven Segal in it, I’ve seen it. If it has Jason Statham in it, I’m the first in line to see it at the movie theatres. 3. I met Prince William at the 10th anniversary concert for Princess Diana. He was so nice, and surprisingly, I managed to not make a fool of myself LOL 4. I’m a bit OCD. Everything I do needs to be color coordinated. I’ve been that way since high school, and I can’t stop. 5. I have 7 tattoos, and it’s become an addiction. I am planning at least 5 more. I also love my high heel shoes, do not try to take them away from me, it’s not going to end well LOL.
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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I’m a pawn, a piece of chattel, a toy--used and forgotten.
When you’re done with me, you can walk away with no regrets. That’s how my husband sees me. I try to be the best wife possible for him. After all, he took me on when no one else would. Now--he’s in debt and owes more money to the loan shark than we can possibly repay.
But, don’t worry, he’s come up with a solution, it’s just not one I was expecting.
...I’ve been TRADED.
Rebecca lives near the shore towns of New Jersey, with her husband and two kids. When she's not writing she loves reading and watching SOA and TrueBlood.
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Some nights have passion, some waves leave you wet, but everything is sexy at Knight Fashion Magazine... From the International Bestselling, Reader's Favorite Award winning author of My Clarity; M. Clarke has readers plunge into the depths of romance and desire with Rachel and Jackson’s story. No one said breaking up was easy, but escaping to Kauai only adds to Rachel Miller's confusion when fate collides her with Jackson Clark. He’s everything Rachel wants—confident, charismatic, and in charge—but his past catches up to them, creating rough waves that seems impossible to calm. Will their love for each other be strong enough or will it crash against the shore?* AMAZON * BARNES & NOBLE * SMASHWORDS * KOBO * iBOOKS * GOOGLE * BOOKS FROM THE SOMETHING GREAT SERIESSomething Great FREE, Book 1 * AMAZON * BARNES & NOBLE * KOBO *iBOOKS * GOOGLE * Something Wonderful, Book 2 * AMAZON * BARNES & NOBLE * KOBO * iBOOKS * GOOGLE * Something Forever, Book 3 * AMAZON * BARNES & NOBLE * KOBO * iBOOKS * GOOGLE * International Bestselling Author Mary Ting/M. Clarke resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one-Something Great. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children's chapter book-No Bullies Allowed. Kaitlin Grant lost her spine. She isn’t a slug—but her abusive ex-lover and business partner is. Broken and bruised, she escapes to the safe haven of Connor, Iowa, to resurrect her self-confidence. But Kaitlin doesn’t anticipate the potent electricity still sizzling between her and Sky Whitefeather—the swarthy Native American man she left years ago. Returning home from Iraq with a daughter and an unforgivable secret, Sky tries to bury the past, until Katie—the girl who annihilated his heart, returns to town. The irresistible woman stirs up emotions he longs to forget and rekindles desires that might burn him alive. Can new love grow from the ashes of their past, or will a trail of death and betrayal destroy their dreams? AMAZON US I AMAZON UK I iBOOKS I KOBO I NOOK I ARe I SMASHWORDS
The sound of churning gravel and the purr of a car engine drew Sky’s attention to the road. A silver Jag slowed to a stop in front of Gran’s. His heart clutched in his chest, air stilled in his lungs. Katie. He didn’t need to see the shimmer of her glossy auburn hair reflecting in the setting sun to recognize her. The blistering pull of every cell in his body and the rush of conflicting emotions rolling through him were proof enough. Anger, desire, sadness, and rejection brought with them a sting that burned the backs of his eyes. Forcing down the lump of emotion clogging his throat, Sky tried to tamp down the familiar vibration humming through his body. A part of him wanted to whoop for joy before yanking Katie into his arms kissing her senseless. Another part of him wanted to forget she even existed…wipe away the ball-churning memories that flooded his brain, and focus on the hurt and anger he felt when Gran broke the news, Katie had left. Yet, all he could think about was touching her, kissing her, holding her in his arms, before he dragged her beneath him. Skimming a cursory glance over the ridiculously expensive sports car, Sky’s shoulders sagged. Katie had achieved her dreams all right, it was staring him in the face, sending feelings of inadequacy deep into his bones. He hadn’t had a damn thing to offer her at eighteen; he sure as hell didn’t now. Sky couldn’t compete with the riches she’d apparently become accustomed to. It didn’t take a genius to see he could only rate as a long lost lover. Reality stung, like a slap to the face. Katie had ripped his heart out and stomped it to shit—a fact he’d do well to remember. But it didn’t erase the desire to love her again, or the growing need inside his jeans. Disgusted by his traitorous libido, her return only served to make him pick at the scabs of the past, and douse them in salt water. Sky clenched his jaw. “Looks like you got everything you wanted, Katie,” he mumbled with disdain. “I’m sure you’re happy now.” No sooner had the words rolled off his tongue than the sounds of gut-wrenching sobs filled his ears. What the hell? Tossing down the shovel, Sky mopped the sweat off his face before storming toward the Jag. Katie’s sobs grew louder and more pitiful. Like fine crystal, the flimsy barrier he’d erected around his heart, began to crack, splinter, and finally shatter. Standing next to the open window, Sky watched tears drip from beneath her shroud of silky, red hair. The waning sun reflected in each drop, casting them in a shimmer of gold, as they spilled onto Katie’s lap. His guts and heart clenched in tandem. Sky had only seen Katie cry once: the first time they made love; those had been tears of joy. There wasn’t an ounce of happiness in the guttural sobs ringing in his ears. What the hell had happened to her? This wasn’t the strong, resilient woman he’d once loved. Seeing Katie in the throes of such brutal sorrow gutted him. In an instant, his heart caught fire with the need to protect: burning away the poisonous animosity he’d felt moments ago. Instantly, flames of love reignited—the powerful kind they’d once shared—and Sky only wanted to scoop her into his arms so he could comfort and slay the demons causing her this pain.
Bestselling author, Jenna Jacob paints a canvas of passion, romance, and humor as her Alpha men and the feisty women who love them unravel their souls, heal their scars, to find their happily ever after kind of love. Heart-tugging, captivating, and steamy, Jenna’s books will surely leave you breathless and craving more. A mom of four grown children, Jenna and her Alpha-Hunk-husband live in Kansas. A lover of books, Harleys, music, and camping, Jenna’s zany sense of humor and lack of filter exemplify her motto: Live. Laugh. Love. Let Jenna introduce you to her wild and wicked family in her sultry series: The Doms of Genesis. Or become spellbound by the searing love connection between Raine, Hammer, and Liam in her continuing saga: The Doms of Her Life (co-written with the amazing Shayla Black and Isabella La Pearl). Journey with couples struggling to resolve their pasts and heal their scars, to discover unbridled love and devotion in Jenna’s new contemporary series: Passionate Hearts. NEWSLETTER SIGN-UP I E-MAIL I WEBSITE I FACEBOOK I FACEBOOK FAN PAGE I TWITTER LIVE | The Third and Final Book in the best-selling NOLA Zombie series by Gillian Zane. Alexis, Blake and Zach survived the zombie apocalypse but found a new enemy to fight. Alexis has been taken and Zach and Blake are desperate to find her. The men are pretty certain they know who took Alexis, but finding them will be a daunting task. There are millions of places to hide in the swamps of Southern Louisiana but Zach and Blake will not stop until they’ve searched every one of them. Alexis will be returned to them if it’s the last thing they do. Falling back on their military training, the men have no choice but to succeed, or risk losing Alexis forever. It’s a race against the clock… The problem is that the group that took Alexis didn’t keep her. They sold her. She’s now the property of the Southern Clan, a fate worse than death. The undead still roam the streets of New Orleans. S-Island mourns the loss of one of its own and the NOLA Zombie series comes to a stunning conclusion. You don’t want to miss a second of this action-packed series ender… Be warned, there will be monsters, living and dead, there will be very intense sex scenes, between two men and one woman, and there will be violence galore. *Available on Kindle Unlimited*
Alexis:Bright light shot across my vision. Whack. Sharp pain brought me to consciousness. The smell of body odor and piss had me coughing and jerking away from the sharp sting across my face. I tried to push my body away, but I was held in place, my body heavy, my arms forced to my sides, my back rigid. I couldn’t move. My back was up against a wall or the back of a chair and I was being held tightly in place. I tried to move my hands, but they were bound. The pain flaring from my wrists clued me in that they were bound too tight. Pins and needles popped up all over my body and I sucked in a large breath of air as if I had been under water. It was hard to take a deep breath and when I pushed my chest forward I felt tight restraints across me. The pain came again, hard against my cheek. Words followed, but they were muffled. I could barely make them out. My ears buzzed and my brain was foggy, slow to function. I blinked, my eyes fluttering, trying to make out the blurry shapes in front of me. Wherever I was, it was dim. I could smell the acrid scent of wood smoke and candle wicks, and a rank smell underneath it of dirty humans. “The bitch is finally awake,” a gruff voice said. This time I could make out the words. My eyes focused on a shape in front of me. It was a man. He was much older than me and I thought he looked familiar. The man from the truck we ran off. My brain finally connected the shapes and faces with the memory. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, smiling and revealing rotten, yellow teeth. I had seen better grills on a zombie.
Gillian Zane has been writing fiction stories since she was first able to put pen to paper. She has published a few non-fiction books in her field of study, which is Art, but finally, after all, these years her first fiction novella is being released. Gillian is obsessed with anything that gives her a thrill and feels adding romance to any storyline is a good thing. She was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She lives with her husband, too many animals in a little house that has way too many books. SECRETS FROM A DANGEROUS TIME Author: Hunter S. Jones
GENRE: Historical Time Travel Steamy Romance
EDITOR: BZ Hercules
ORIGINAL RELEASE DATE: September 13, 2015
Chaos reigns in a lawless time filled with revenge and betrayals. Following the American Civil War, the Southern States are reeling under the revenge taken on them by the victors.
Casey King must change her name, fake a marriage and forget modern comforts to survive within the world she now finds herself - 1873 post-Civil War Reconstruction Era Chattanooga, Tennessee... a world full of violence and mystery.
The charismatic Dr. Garrett Cleighton, a mixed heritage Cherokee, decides to give her a part in his traveling medicine show. Casey takes a chance in order to hide her secrets. Dr. Cleighton could betray her or he might keep his promises. Can his band of musicians, entertainers and misfits keep Casey safe through the turmoil? Will she survive?
With that, he removed another blanket from the back of the saddlebag. “Here, place that over you.” He picked up the saddle and sat it down on the east side, which did help block the breeze that was starting to blow colder. He stretched those long legs out on the ground and put his arm over the saddle, propping himself up to look up at me. His long, blond hair seemed to glow in the light. The nearness of him made my skin tingle and my pulse race.
After a pause in which the night sounds combined into a symphony, Garrett took a long drag from his cigarette. He looked at me, eyes raised and moving from my chest to my face. Even with the blanket over me, it felt as if he could imagine me naked. As he looked at me, he whispered, “What I want to know, as a man, is why you aren’t wearing a corset and why your breasts are in some kind of harness.” He exhaled the smoke slowly and continued, “But, as a gentleman, I’d best not be asking about such things. Why don’t you explain to me what you do in Atlanta all day?”
The wind whipped around my face and I knew he could hear my heart pounding in the stillness of the night. What a sexy thing to say. Is he attracted to me too? I felt the sky going dark before I was able to respond to his question.
The sensation of Garrett taking my face in his hands brought me to the surface. “Girl, I can’t let you lose consciousness yet due to the injury to your head. Stay with me now. We are going to keep you awake by talking. Don’t you be passing out on me or going to sleep.” He revived me by patting my face with his hands and massaging my throat with his long fingers. He removed one hand and inhaled from the cigarette, blowing the smoke directly at my nose and mouth.
“Why did you do that? That tobacco smells terrible,” I said.
“It works every time. I knew that it would revive you.” He laughed. “Now go on. Tell me about yourself, seeing how we are stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with not much else to do.”
Deb Hunter writes fiction as Hunter S. Jones. She is a member of the prestigious Society of Authors founded by Lord Tennyson, Rivendell Writers Colony, Historical Writers’ Association, Historical Novel Society and the Atlanta Writer’s Club. Her Tudor History blog, Fear and Loathing in Tudor England, is a reader’s favorite. Originally from a Chattanooga, Tennessee, she currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her Scottish born husband. Her best seller, PHOENIX RISING, a fictional story of the last hour of Anne Boleyn is available on Amazon.com and at a bookstore near you.
SECRETS from a DANGEROUS TIME is a multi-dimensional series set in post-Civil War Reconstruction in Chattanooga, Tennessee and the north Georgia. This series is an Amazon Exclusive available via MadeGlobal Publishing.
In witching society, magic and politics are the only things that matter, and marriages are arranged for advantage rather than love.
Tulah Ngozi doesn’t want to go home, but she’s being forced to attend the wedding of the man who killed her father years ago. The Ngozi men are determined to use her in their plots against each other, but she takes her future into her own hands when she learns that Adam Davenold will also be in attendance. Adam is a powerful man in a matriarchal Family, used to being seduced by women looking to gain power. He’s good at guarding his heart—until he meets Tulah.
Diplomacy demands that the Davenolds attend the wedding and, in the company of their Matriarch, Adam and Georgeanne travel to the Ngozi residence, where they become embroiled in a frightening power struggle. Georgeanne is grateful for the unexpected presence of her betrothed, Silviu, who arrives uninvited after he learns she will be there. When the groom proves disturbing and the Davenold Mother falls to a suspicious illness, Silviu’s magic is the only thing Georgie can depend on for support.
In witching society, magic and politics are the only things that matter, and marriages are arranged for advantage rather than love. But more than politics is at stake in a minefield of lies and betrayal. Death and dark magic stalk the Ngozi–Levy wedding, and only Silviu and Georgeanne’s Matched magic has a chance of getting everyone out alive.
Reader Advisory: This book is best read in sequence as part of a series.
General Release Date: 20th October 2015
Chapter One
Tulah
“Hurry, Tulah! They’re coming up the street.”
“Oh, God, Mama, I know he’s with them. I just know it.” Dread knotted Tulah’s stomach until she could hardly breathe. She came to a dead stop on the claustrophobic stairs and rested her forehead against the wall, trying to soak up the coolness of the perpetually damp plaster as a remedy for the nauseous heat rolling through her.
“Don’t let him see you like that!” Her mother stamped her tiny foot on the bottom step in warning. “You must be strong at all times.”
“Strong?” Her voice was barely a croak, so Tulah tried again. “Strong? He killed Papa.”
“And if you’re not strong, he’ll kill you, too. Get down here. Now!”
It took Tulah another minute to move. Confused and angry, defiant and stubborn, she stared at her mother. Chelsea glared back with the same emotions in her eyes, looking like a little doll whose face was painted to show determination. And fear.
“Tulah!”
She stepped down and her stomach shriveled. Tulah was beyond fear—there was no name for what she felt. Her legs almost gave out, and she pressed both hands to the walls, grateful—for the first time—to the medieval architect who’d built the cramped house. She usually considered the stairwell to be a horrid, constricted passageway, being no more than two feet wide. Now, the narrowness was all that held Tulah up.
“Listen to me.” Her mother banged on the wall to get her wandering attention. “You get that petrified look off your face, right now!”
The words snapped into her spine. Tulah drew herself up and fought to find a blank mask to slip over her features. Her cheekbones ached with the effort and her teeth sank into her lower lip, but her mother nodded sharply, giving her approval.
“Good girl.”
There was a knock at the door.
Tulah dragged in a deep breath and held it until she was dizzy. Still bracing her hands
against the clammy walls, she descended the rest of the steps. Her mother twirled and reached for the door that nearly pressed against her back in the tiny house.
Fully expecting to see her uncle, Tulah was shocked to find Charles Ngozi standing on the other side instead. The man was big and intimidating, his pale skin a striking contrast to the black braids falling down his back in blatant challenge to any rival. Pull those braids and die. Try to use them to gain the advantage in a fight, and die. People generally died around him—which suited his job for the Family.
He was an enforcer who broke all the rules for his out-of-bounds leader.
His brown eyes found Tulah’s and the sensation of a thousand wriggling cockroaches crawled over her. His eyes brightened and sparked with lust as they made their leisurely way over her body. Both women were forced to ignore the sudden tenting of his pants, though his slow smile prompted Tulah’s mother into a tone that came too close to derision.
“Charles. Why are you here?”
“Come to collect Tulah.” He waved his hand toward the dark car idling at the curb, nearly blocking the traffic in the narrow street. “Graves will explain.”
Tulah’s heart sank. The spell her mother had cast at either end of the street let them know if any Ngozi Family member came close. She’d felt the cold stirring that warned her of the man’s presence, but she’d found a spark of hope when only Charles had been revealed behind the door. He was big, fast and murderous, but not the most intelligent man that ever walked the Earth. She could’ve handled him.
Graves was a different matter, entirely.
She looked beyond Charles toward the car, where another man hopped out of the passenger seat and hurried to open the back door. The vehicle’s tires boasted shockingly green hubcaps, its windows were tinted dark enough to match the exterior paint and tiny green designs trailed down the hood, the roof and the boot, defiling the once-sleek luxury sedan.
It suited the man emerging from its depths perfectly. Tulah swallowed hard, holding tight to her composure as Charles watched her closely. She could do nothing but stare at the man who’d killed her father. The man who had unrepentantly killed his own nephew and tossed his wife and daughter into the streets to fend for themselves.
Graves Ngozi was a monster. Arrogant and cunning, tyrannical and deadly, he was a man who pit himself against the Family Father and stirred the shit everywhere he went. He was on full display today, the darkness of his skin emphasized by a white linen suit set off by a poison green tie and matching green saddle shoes. The white fedora on his head was perched at a cocky angle and he swung a heavy, emerald-tipped walking stick carelessly.
Tulah made a mental note to watch what he did with that stick.
He strolled up the path and into the house as if he owned it, disgustedly peering over dark sunglasses made needless by the thick London fog. Tulah lifted her chin as Graves stopped before her, looking her up and down.
“Well, well,” he purred, “look at what the years can do.”
Tulah couldn’t help herself. “Not enough years, if you ask me.”
Chelsea pinched Tulah’s arm but spoke to Graves. “What brings you to our door? I thought you were happy to see the last of us.”
He licked his teeth in an odd gesture that threatened the impassivity of Tulah’s expression and smirked. He turned in a tight circle to survey the tiny foyer before moving under a low arch into the square sitting room. The women had no choice but to follow him.
He threw himself back onto the fragile sofa, a second-hand piece Tulah feared would crumple under his abuse.
“I’m betrothed.”
“Congratulations.” Her mother’s tone was devoid of any joy.
Graves stretched himself out on the couch, his arms across the back of it, his knees spread wide.
“I’ve always thought it was a marvelous thing that your parents settled in Chelsea when they came to England, rather than, say…Liverpool. What on earth would they have named you then?”
Tulah’s mother took it in stride. “I suppose they would have thought of something.”
“I’ve come for your daughter, Chelsea.”
“For what reason?”
“To take her to her rightful home, of course.”
“Rightful home?” Tulah lifted her eyebrow. “Graves, you sold the Ngozi estate out from under all the Family and bought a hotel, instead.”
“It’s convenient, pet. When the rooms aren’t full of Family, I fill them with tourists. It’s an investment.”
Chelsea took a deep breath. “Why do you want her presence in your…residence?”
Graves dropped his arrogant smirk. “I told you, I’m betrothed. Pay some fucking attention.”
Tulah saw the flash of helpless anger cross her mother’s delicate face and reached out to take her hand. “What she means, is why do you require me to be there? I have been banished from your presence for eleven years.”
Graves stood up and leaned against his walking stick. “I am the head of the secondary branch of the Family. If I require your presence, it is not for you to question me.”
Tulah took a step forward, indiscreet with the anger clamping down around the knots of fear in her belly. “I think it is, you murderous son of a bitch. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The back of his hand slammed against her cheekbone before her words could fully leave her mouth. The crack of his knuckles stilled her, even as fire swept over her teary eye. Her mother grabbed her shoulder and pulled Tulah behind her. Ludicrous, as Chelsea was so very tiny and Tulah had gotten her father’s height.
It had happened so quickly, immediately tossing Tulah back into her childhood. Old fears poured over her, blinding her for an instant as her cheek throbbed, mocking her moment of confidence. It was a brutal reminder of how fast Graves was, how ruthless. Tulah struggled to hold on to her strength and tried to remember how hard her mother had worked to make her into a strong, confident woman.
Not a patriarch’s chattel to be abused, or a weakling prone to tears.
Graves tugged at the cuff of his jacket. “There will be a great gathering. Ngozis and Levys both, with a few other guests specially invited.”
Chelsea took an audible breath. “What does that have to do with us?”
Graves took a step forward and both women took an instinctive step back. He smiled.
“Muso Ngozi is coming to the betrothal celebration. He has requested your presence.”
“He’s not coming to England.” Chelsea shook her head. “He swore he’d never return here, after…after…”
She wasn’t willing to finish her thought, and neither was Tulah. Graves was too intimidating to voice the truth to. Even saying as much as she had was enough to have his face closing down, his skin tightening until his cheekbones shone nearly blue. His black eyes became an abyss of rage.
“Well, here he comes, darlings. He wants to meet the bride, apparently.”
“Who?” Tulah managed to ask. Hearing the shakiness in her own voice, she stepped to her mother’s side, unwilling to continue cowering behind her. She needed a greater show of strength than girlish tears and wobbling words.
“Constance Gage-Levy. She’s on her way to London as we speak.”
Tulah shared a look with her mother. This was huge news—not the bride, though Graves’ voice had softened to a surprising degree when he’d said her name, but the Father. This could be a chance to gain his ear, to find recompense for all they’d lost.
Her mother went rigid, eerily calm. “I see. Then we’ll go pack our bags."
“Oh, no, no, no, darling Chelsea, not you.” Graves smiled wickedly. “Muso didn’t even mention you at all. Just Joseph’s daughter.”
Tulah’s heart stopped. She’d never been away from her mother, not even for the night. It was much too dangerous for them, in the heart of Ngozi territory. Ice clogged her veins but fire licked the inside of her skull. Tulah struggled to keep breathing, ignoring the ragged edge of every pant.
“I’m not letting you just take her!” Her mother’s hands clenched.
“You are.”
Chelsea tried again. “She can’t go without me.”
Graves made a patently false moue of apology. “Darling, you have so many more things to concern your pretty head with.”
“I promise you, I don’t! She’s my daughter.”
“Mmm, but you’ll need to spend time searching for lodgings. Preferably in France.”
Both women stilled. Tulah grabbed for her mother’s hand again, squeezing her fingers as she tried to decipher the cold slide of Graves’ tone. Moving to stand at his leader’s side, his big body blocking the weak light from the window, Charles grinned. Tulah didn’t trust the look in his eye.
“What are you talking about?” she finally asked.
“I am now the proud owner of this tiny little hamlet you’ve found in the back alleys of the city. I bought the whole block, when I learned of your whereabouts.” Graves grinned. “It’s the perfect place for a parking lot, don’t you think?”
Tulah blinked, fought for words. “You bought our building?”
“The whole block, pet. All the buildings.”
Tulah looked around the tiny space, dumbfounded. It was small and cramped, all they could afford on both their meager salaries. Chelsea had been raised in the midst of a patriarchal Family of witches. She hadn’t been taught the skills of autonomy before her husband was killed and she was thrown out of the only protection she’d ever thought she’d need.
She’d scrimped and saved, and had taken her daughter all over the city, from hovels and hotels to rented rooms and dismal flats. Once Tulah had been old enough to take a job as a cashier, they’d been able to save enough to rent the house.
Dingy peeling walls, claustrophobic rooms and cracked window casings aside, it was the first home they’d had since Joseph Ngozi’s death. They’d survived, they’d eked out a life for themselves, and Graves was taking it away. Again.
“But it’s medieval,” Tulah said stupidly, and kicking herself for it. “It survived the Fire.”
“But it won’t survive my wrecking ball.” Graves slid forward, raising his hand. He stroked his fingers over Tulah’s cheek gently, but fresh flames licked over her skin. He’d hit her hard enough to bruise, and now was admiring his handiwork. “I suggest you pack all of your things. You won’t be coming back here.”
“And where do you expect me to go?” Chelsea demanded.
“I don’t give a fuck where you go, so long as it’s out of my country.” Graves flashed her an angry glance that had Tulah squeezing her mother’s hand tighter. “Why don’t you go back to Japan?” he said silkily. “Back to your own Family.”
“I’ve never even been to Japan,” Chelsea grated out. “As you well know, my parents came here before my birth.”
“Perhaps it’s time to see a different part of the world, then. Surely the Shimizu Family will welcome you with open arms?”
Chelsea’s jaw clenched, obviously refusing to give him the words that would prove the statement false. She’d never met the Shimizus. She’d been betrothed to Joseph Ngozi when she was a teenager, her mother dead and her father ill and banished from his homeland. She’d moved into the Ngozi stronghold soon after, never knowing another Family’s customs.
“I have a cat!” Tulah jerked as the words left her mouth, praying she could slide this by Graves. “I’ll need to bring it, if this won’t be my home anymore.”
Graves waved impatiently. “Whatever, pet, just get the fucking beast and let’s go. I’ve wasted enough time on you today.”
Tulah nodded quickly, dragging her mother with her as she turned for the stairs. “We’ll go pack my things.”
“Ten minutes, Tulah.” His hard tone was all the warning she would get. He said nothing else.
Together, the women raced upstairs. Tulah charged into her room, throwing the creaky door open with enough force to send it bouncing against the wall. She let go of her mother and ripped open the door to her pathetically barren closet.
Tulah grabbed everything in a single sweep of her arms and raised her brows at her mother. “Go get your things. Hurry!”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“It will.” Tulah threw everything on the bed and dropped to her knees, blindly seeking the faded old duffel bag stowed beneath. “He won’t blink an eye at two pieces of luggage. He won’t even think about how little we really have, he’s so used to having too much.”
“He might understand, love.”
“Did Graves ever see you—?”
“Absolutely not! Your father never told a soul.”
“Thank God.” Tulah surged to her feet and dropped her voice. “We have to take the chance. All we have to do is get to Muso, then everything will get better, Mama. Please!”
With a growl of surrender, Chelsea moved into her own room. Through the paper-thin walls, Tulah heard drawers open and close, the bed creaking. Her mother was obeying her command.
It had been the same since Tulah had turned eighteen. Chelsea hadn’t been taught to think for herself and had been rabidly protected by her husband. She’d gone from a life where she wanted for nothing, to a nightmare where she had to fight for every gain. She could be a tigress where her daughter was concerned but, out of necessity, Tulah’s self-assurance was much more ingrained than her mother’s, and Chelsea almost always surrendered to her offspring’s determination.
Two minutes later, Chelsea returned with a battered carpet bag containing everything she owned. There was nothing downstairs worth taking. Their furniture was second-hand and there was precious little money for knick-knacks. Their entire lives condensed down into two bags.
Chelsea shut the door as she whispered a spell to hide her magic before letting it flow free. The air around her delicate shoulders took on a wavering quality, like looking through a gentle waterfall. Power flowed out of her skin to wrap her body in a gauzy shroud Tulah could just barely see. It didn’t matter, though, the force behind the magic beat at her skin, a warm pressure tap-dancing over her nerves.
Chelsea was Shimizu, a Family of kitsune witches known for their shape-shifting abilities.
Predominantly taking fox form, the fact that a few could take the appearance of other small animals was a fiercely guarded secret. Her mother’s body dissolved, flowing into the form of a sleek black cat. Black was handy, unexceptional and easily able to melt into the background.
Tulah had inherited the same gift and a similar form.
Tulah scooped her mother up in her arms and grabbed the bags. Chelsea hissed.
“Yes, Mama, I know. He could always remember that you are a kitsune descendant, but he won’t be able to prove anything, so long as we’re careful. And hopefully he’ll think fox, not cat.”
Tulah came down the stairs cautiously, protective of the animal snuggled in her arms.
Charles surprised her by taking the bags.
Graves looked up the stairwell. “Where is your mother?”
“She said she couldn’t bear to watch you take me, too.” Tulah dropped her eyes, hiding the lie and attempting to look demure.
He only laughed before gesturing Charles through the narrow door. “It must be terrible to be in her position. A weak female with so very much to lose.”
Tulah said nothing as she followed the men to the car. Graves forced her into the back seat and the man who had opened his door when he arrived slid in on the other side. Blocking her exit.
Graves saw the look on her face. “It’s time you learned, pet, that I will win every battle.”
He stroked his large hand over Chelsea’s furry head, briefly exerting a pressure that startled a squawk from the animal. “And if you try to fight me, I will take your kitten, too.”
Tulah wrenched back, gathering her mother closer. She burrowed into the side of the other man, glaring at Graves when Charles’ weight sank the right side of the car as he slid behind the wheel.
“I know what you’re capable of, Graves,” she said. “I’ve seen you in action.”
“Yes, you have, pet. Keep it in mind as you keep your mouth shut. Muso may want to lay eyes on you and see how you’ve grown, but he won’t wish to hear any tales. You know how he runs things in Africa, don’t you? Women have even less power than they do in my house.”
Tulah dropped her eyes and stroked the cat. “I know, Graves. I remember full well what kind of power the women have in the Ngozi Family. It’s why I was happy to have been banished.”
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Delve into the emotions, dive into the erotic.
An extensive traveler who loves to incorporate various legends from around the world into her tales, Lola White likes to twist reality at its edges in her stories. She likes delving into the emotions of her characters, finding their strengths and weaknesses, and seeing (and showing) how they get themselves out of whatever trouble has found them—if they can.
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Normal. It was a relative term, or so I thought.
After a relationship from hell that almost killed me, I didn’t want another man in my life. A job, a home, and great friends were all I needed.
Simple.
Uncomplicated.
Until two men interrupted the calm I was pretending to be.
One could take me to the future—a future I never dared to dream I could have. A man who gave me a chance to smile and fix the mistakes I’d made. But, I shouldn’t get a second chance at a happily ever after.
The other would take me back to the past—a past I didn’t want but was all I knew. After losing the most important thing in my life, I didn’t deserve more than that.
Faced with choices I didn’t see coming, I knew I had to make a decision. Be thrust forward into a new life, or be held prisoner of bad choices from my old one. I was just striving for normal, but I didn’t know what normal was anymore.
Ages 18+ due to adult situations and violence.
★★★★★★
Perfection is a gimmick.
It’s something they use to sell you shit you don’t need. The perfect home. The perfect family. The perfect marriage. Photos of that perfect life are all around us, but none of it exists.
I know better because I take those photos. It’s all a ruse to make us think that's what we want. Behind closed doors, the house is a mess, the family is fighting, and that loving couple hates each other. I prefer a different city every week, laughing friends, and a variety of lovers.
Until Carl. I’m not sure what I want when he’s around.
Perfection is an illusion.
It’s something used to make you forget all the bad shit that happens in this world. It’s an unattainable dream not worth the effort.
I had the perfect home. The perfect family. The perfect marriage. Or so I thought. That illusion died with my wife and slammed me into reality. Aside from my daughter, business deals and making money is where my heart is now.
Until Rachael. I’m not sure what I feel when she’s around.
Ages 18+ due to adult situations and violence.
★★★★★★
We all want to feel accepted, but sometimes we do unacceptable things. When we push it too far and do the unforgivable, are we still allowed to hope for that acceptance?
Or are we doomed to accept a life of loneliness?
My current bed friend is someone who’s struggling to find his own acceptance. His big crime? He’s following his dreams. His father can’t accept the fact he no longer wants to follow in his footsteps. Should he be shut out because he quit the family business? I don’t think so. But if he should, I’ve got bigger problems.
My crime?
I cheated on my husband and then killed the man I cheated with. Would you still accept me?
Ages 18+ due to adult situations and violence.
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B.L. Mooney started writing when the voices and storylines in her head ran out of room. They were getting too cramped and neither B.L. nor the characters could take it anymore, so she did the only thing she could do—she made room. She always knew she wanted to write, but vowed to make time for it later. Now that she’s made time for writing, most everything else falls to the wayside. That seems to suit the characters that keep popping up just fine.
B.L. lives in the Midwest and her other talents include in-demand cookies, a very dry sense of humor, and stealth eavesdropping. Some mannerisms, attitudes, or twists come from random sentences picked up while passing by strangers. So speak up the next time you have something to gossip about. You never know, it may just end up on the pages of the next book you read.
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WHAT IF EVERYTHING YOU KNEW ABOUT YOURSELF WAS A LIE?
Melusine Doré is as practiced at guarding a secret as she is at wielding a weapon. Yet her past refuses to stay buried. Her worst fears are realized when Melusine and her companion, Levi, get called to hunt a beast in her birthplace of Malheur. The second she sets foot on her native soil, nothing proceeds as she planned: a beautiful tinker sets her sights on Levi, a gentle monster kills for sport, and an admission of love becomes a betrayal. Melusine comes face to face with the lies of her family’s past—and a truth that could destroy her.
Adventure number two in the Clockwork Siren series, Submerged takes us from the muddy trenches of steampunk Chicago to the sticky swamps of Louisiana to the slippery side of love.
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Katie grew up in Racine, Wisconsin where she acquired an irreversible nasal twang and an addiction for books with a slightly dark edge. She now lives in Geneva, Switzerland with her husband, two daughters, and two fuzzy cats. She has been an avid reader of YA fiction for years. While she has a penchant for the paranormal, she devours a range of books -- along with popcorn and black licorice. She consumes all three in large quantities. Luckily, the books don't stay on her hips.
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