“Forbidden to Love is mafia romance at its best.” -J.A. Owenby, International bestselling author
Forbidden To Love, an all-new dark, forbidden romance set in the same world as Condemned to Love by USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Siobhan Davis, is available now!
Natalia Mazzone has grown up knowing she is promised to a made man. As the only daughter of one of New York’s most powerful mafia dons, she knows she can’t refuse. It’s her duty, and she would never dishonor her beloved father.
But the man she’s promised to is a monster. And there is nothing but torture, pain, and heartache lying in wait.
So, she grabs happiness when she finds it—in the somewhat reluctant arms of Leonardo Messina.
Leo is her brother’s best friend. A soldato for the Mazzone famiglia. A man with strong ambition and an even stronger resolve. He won’t allow them to give in to temptation, so Natalia is forced to love him from afar.
Until one forbidden night changes everything, and she readily hands Leo the key to her heart.
Leo risked everything for the one woman he can never have. He doesn’t regret it. It saved Natalia from a life of hell, but his actions set her on a different course.
One that doesn’t involve him.
Years have passed, and his feelings remain the same. Yet he keeps his distance, dedicating himself to his new role as underboss to Bennett Mazzone, while the love of his life is married to another man.
Until a twist of fate puts Natalia in his path again, and this time, he is powerless to resist.
Gently, I tuck her hair behind her ears, removing a handkerchief from my pants pocket and wiping her clammy brow. “I need to see the damage,” I softly say. “Can I unbutton your shirt to look?”
Her big blue eyes look too trusting as she nods. With careful movements, I unbutton her white school blouse, hoping she can’t see how my fingers are shaking as I slowly reveal her body to me. I’m instantly appalled at the devastation on her skin. Bruising is already appearing in several places on her torso, mainly centered around her ribs on both sides, but there’s an impression of a shoeprint on her chest and discoloration on her stomach. I stuff a hand in my mouth to strangle my agony, squeezing my eyes shut as I struggle to get a grip on myself.
“Leo.” Her melodious voice is a sensual caress over my skin, helping to ground me. “Do I look that bad?” she whispers.
My eyes snap open at that. “Dolcezza.” I take her hand in mine. “You look beautiful. Like always. But I cannot stand to see what those cunts have done to you. I want to go in there and riddle them with bullets until they stop breathing.”
“I wouldn’t oppose that plan,” she says, and I can’t tell if she’s serious or not.
I shake my head. “No, dolcezza.” I bring her hand to my mouth, planting a kiss on her warm skin. “Don’t say that. I know you are hurting, but that’s not who you are.”
“There is more darkness inside me than you realize, Leo. More hatred than I ever thought I was capable of feeling.”
I don’t like hearing that, but it’s naïve to think she is immune to the darkness that is an inherent part of the world we inhabit.
About Siobhan
Siobhan Davis is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal and Amazon Top 10 bestselling romance author. Siobhan writes emotionally intense stories with swoon-worthy romance, complex characters, and tons of unexpected plot twists and turns that will have you flipping the pages beyond bedtime! She has sold over 1.5 million books and her titles are translated into several languages.
Prior to becoming a full-time writer, Siobhan forged a successful corporate career in human resource management.
She lives in the Garden County of Ireland with her husband and two sons.
When an attractive, wealthy, pugnacious woman and a former drug dealer and part-time gangster head up a family…it’s safe to say that the branches of that family tree might end up slightly twisted. Delia Miller was an actress and model in her prime and after settling down in San Francisco and starting a family with a man named Henry, she embarked on an adventurous, colorful, and oftentimes chaotic life.
Jack Adams was in love with Delia Miller for most of his life. But for a big part of it, he was married to someone else. Jack tried to give Delia the space she needed to make her own marriage work, but even with thousands of miles between them, the ties that bound them never broke.
Now Delia and Jack, both at an age where they are faced with their own mortality, are forced to take stock of what they created, and the reality is pure dysfunction. Delia’s three grown children now have families of their own and those branches had become even more twisted as the Miller/Adams/O’Conner families intertwined and began to live their lives out loud, and unapologetically.
Mostly uninhibited and walking a constant tightrope between right and wrong, love and hate, peace and violence, this family will survive some days by the skin of their teeth alone. They’ll fight each other for what they want…but when one of them is backed up against a wall, the one thing they can always depend on is the fierce loyalty of broken family that only the dysfunctional can understand.
* * *
Jessie Cooke and Suzy Wilson have forged a strange but strong bond with San Francisco socialite Delia Miller. Delia, the matriarch of the Miller family, spent her eighty+ years on earth living life on her own terms, and that, coupled with the wild mess of a family she created in those years, becomes an exhilarating ride as Delia comes to terms with her illness, her children are placed at odds over her legacy, and a surprise that no one ever saw coming rocks the family to its very core.
Determined to write this family’s colorful story, Jessie and Suzy embark on a journey marked by sex, lies, secrets, love, lust, and a gamut of emotions that cover an entire spectrum. It will leave them both breathless and teach them quickly that truth is often stranger than any fiction that either of them had ever imagined.
* * *
Get Ready for the ride of a lifetime!
Jessie Cooke grew up in a small country town, so for a long while, the smells of the city were alien to her. The chaotic noises and fragrances of her new surroundings kept her on edge and made it hard for her to sleep. She would lie awake at night and crave the smells of her “home.” Her heart and soul ached for the aroma of earthy loam in the air and fragrances that spring brought with new growth, or the heady warning in the air when rain was on the horizon. She missed the quiet nights, filled with nothing but the sounds of insects chirping and frogs croaking. In the city, she started at the sound of every blaring siren, racing engine, or ringing bell of a cable car. In the city, the smells of the pungent fumes that belched from long lines of cars and busses consumed everything and for quite some time, she thought she’d never grow accustomed to any of it. The lack of sleep and the ache inside of her for the comforts of home affected the very work she’d moved to the city to do. Jessie’s editor, her publisher, and her agent all lived and worked in the city. They were the ones who had encouraged her to move “closer to the action” but as the lonely days turned into weeks and then months, Jessie became more certain that she’d made a mistake. She was the country mouse in a city full of lions…or so she thought.
Jessie had been in San Francisco for six months the day she walked toward her editor’s office with every intention of telling her that she was finished. She was going “home,” whether any of them liked it or not, and if she had to change the way she did business, she’d figure it out when she got there. But as she walked the twelve blocks from her apartment to the editor’s office, she stumbled upon something that would change the way she thought, the way she worked, and even the way she viewed the city.
Jessie was about a block from her editor’s office when she saw five big, muscular men in leather vests sitting in a circle in the street. They all sat astride big, shiny Harley Davidsons and the sun glinted off all the chrome, as well as the ink that colored their arms and shoulders. They wore jeans, leather boots, and white t-shirts underneath the leather vests. They wore black bandannas tied around their heads, and a few of them had long hair that spilled out across their broad shoulders and flowed down their backs. There was a small group of people on the sidewalk watching them, and Jessie’s curiosity was piqued. She quietly took a spot in the crowd and as she focused on the big, intimidating men sitting with their arms crossed in a circle, she almost missed the scene that was happening across the street. There were two more bikers, these two off their bikes and on the ground with one of their knees in the backs of two men they had on the ground.
Jessie was a petite woman, so it was easy for her to make her way to the front of the growing crowd just as a car drove up. The tires squealed and the brakes smoked as it locked up and a man jumped out. He was dressed in a suit and tie and well-groomed, but his eyes were swollen and red, almost as if he’d been crying. As soon as he was out of the car, a woman, who Jessie hadn’t noticed before, suddenly stood up from within the circle of bikers. One of the men stepped off his bike and let the man through and Jessie watched as the man in the suit caught her in his arms and hugged her tightly. When he let her go, he bent down and scooped up a child, a little girl who couldn’t have been over five or six years old. The little girl hugged him, and Jessie could hear her crying and calling him “Daddy.” With the little girl still wrapped tightly around his neck, the man walked closer to one of the bikers on the side nearest where Jessie stood. She heard the man in the suit ask:
“Are you Radar?”
The biker slid off his bike. Jessie couldn’t see the biker’s face, but she could see how big he was. He had to be at least six-foot-six and his shoulders seemed as broad as she was tall. Light brown hair that looked surprisingly healthy and soft for a biker flowed out of the back of his bandanna and lay against his vest, almost to his waist. “Yep” was all the biker said. His voice was deep and gravelly, so when he turned to the side to look at one of his “brothers,” Jessie was surprised to see he couldn’t be much older than her twenty-five years at that time.
“Thank you!” the man said, hugging the child again and letting a tear flow freely down his face. He held out his free hand and used it to grasp the one the biker had held out. The two men shook, and the man repeated his thanks at least a dozen more times. Seconds later, chaos took over as police cars began to drive up and stop. Jessie was pushed back along with the rest of the crowd as the police cordoned off the area, but a spark of something was already growing inside her core, and forgetting everything else, she’d gone home that day, determined to find out what had happened.
For the next three days, she watched the news, combed the internet, and even kept her eyes on the printed papers, which had lost her interest years before. She ate, drank, and slept the story. To Jessie it was not only a true American story, but it was a turning point in her life. The little girl had been snatched in a store a few blocks away by one of the men. The other had been waiting in the SUV out front. When the mother ran out screaming, the bikers, who had been having lunch across the street, chased the two men down, no questions asked. Once they had the men subdued, one of them went to pick up the mother and while the two sat on the would-be kidnappers, the rest of them protected mother and child while awaiting the police. Jessie ultimately discovered that the two men were human traffickers and they were on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. The spark Jessie had felt that day had grown into a fire that began to consume her night and day. It was a story she didn’t only want to write; it was one that she felt like she had to.
She became borderline obsessed with finding out everything there was to know about bikers and motorcycle clubs, and while she was doing that, the city had slowly grown on her. Those sounds and smells that had tormented her for months suddenly became comforting to her. The growling engines and screaming sirens lulled her to sleep, and the hustle and bustle of the city outside her apartment window served as a symphony in the background when she sat down at her computer. As she became immersed in a world that walked a tightrope between fantasy and reality, a world of men whose reputation for being less than perfect only served to make them more appealing as human beings, Jessie learned to love her own life…on her own, in the city where Tony Bennett had once left his heart. Ten years later, as she walked to the café where she now sat waiting for her friend, she’d soaked up the sounds and smells of her life almost euphorically.
The exterior of Jessie’s favorite little café offered nothing inviting, but the interior was just the opposite. It was warm and cozy and when the door closed behind her it was as if the city disappeared. The tourists poured into the big-name coffee shops that sat on every corner of the city, but this café, the one that sat almost despondently amid the skyscrapers downtown, this one was just for the locals. Jessie had ordered her coffee and taken it out to the patio to wait for her friend. There she sat at a bistro table, underneath a colorful umbrella, overlooking a fountain that bubbled so peacefully that one might never know they were mere steps from one of the busiest financial districts in the world.
Jessie took a sip of her espresso and glanced through the glass walls of the café, just in time to see her friend Suzy walk through the front door. A few of the regulars looked up and smiled at her and Suzy smiled back while approaching the counter. Alex, the owner of the café, had been there to greet Jessie when she came in, and he was there to greet Suzy as well. He greeted everyone by name, and if it were someone’s first time there, he’d ask for their name and never forget it if they returned, no matter how much time passed in between.
Alex always had a smile on his face. He wasn’t a classically handsome man. His eyes were wide-set and his nose a bit long. But when Alex smiled it was almost like he became the smile. Everything about him beamed, and to say it was a happy smile was an understatement. Alex’s smile emitted pure, unadulterated joy, and no matter what kind of day Jessie was having, that smile never failed to remind Jessie just how happy she was to be alive.
Suzy was smiling when she walked out onto the patio carrying her usual, a café mocha and one of Alex’s homemade madeleines. “Hey!” she said to Jessie as she set the cup and plate with the cookie on it down on the table. Jessie stood up and the two old friends hugged tightly. “Welcome home.”
Jessie smiled and as they sat down, she said, “It’s good to be back.”
“But the trip was good? You had fun?”
Jessie had needed the vacation, and Suzy had heartily encouraged her to take it. Jessie was glad that she had. “It was great. The birthday party was fun and almost all the aunts and uncles and cousins were there. I ate too much, drank too much, and spent my last day at home in a sugar coma, but I loved every minute of it.”
“Well, I’m glad you had fun. Lord knows you work too much, and you needed that. But now I’m glad you’re back. I need you. I’m still stuck.”
“Still?” Jessie and Suzy were both writers. For most of the past decade, Jessie had written predominately MC romance books, most of them about one club in particular. Her obsession had begun the day she’d witnessed a little girl being saved by a group most people looked at as outsiders, and it had only grown exponentially since.
Suzy typically preferred to write less about romance, and more about the paranormal, ghosts and werewolves, and all the other things that went bump in the night. But although their genres were different, the two friends occasionally depended on each other to get through a rough bout of writer’s block. Suzy had been trying to come up with a plot for a new story before Jessie left to go home for her father’s birthday party two weeks before, so she was surprised to hear that her friend hadn’t made much, if any progress while she was gone.
“I know,” Suzy said, pouting slightly. “Maybe I’ve just got nothing left up there.” She tapped her forehead with her finger.
Jessie smiled and said, “You have plenty left. But if you want my help…”
“If I want your help? I’ll pay for it. No! I’ll put your name in the acknowledgements! No! Acknowledgements, front cover, and I’ll split royalties with you. Please help.” Suzy stuck out her bottom lip and batted her eyelashes dramatically.
Jessie laughed. “Maybe you should have been an actress rather than a writer,” she said, jokingly.
“Maybe,” Suzy said, sadly. “This writing gig sure hasn’t been working for me lately.”
“It’s just temporary,” Jessie said, encouragingly. “Maybe you just need to shake up your genre a bit. I was stuck before I found my niche. I thought it was the move, this place…but really, I just hadn’t found my comfort zone yet. Maybe you should really shake it up and do something crazy like romance, or even erotica.”
Suzy laughed and said, “My own lack of a love life makes me a poor candidate for writing erotica.”
Laughing and shaking her head Jessie said, “Please, what happened to…Gene?” When Jessie left on vacation, Suzy had just started dating a man ten years her junior. She’d told Jessie that he “might be the one.” He was the third man that year that she’d said that about however, so Jessie wasn’t too surprised when Suzy rolled her eyes and said:
“Narcissist. Now, back to the books…”
Jessie knew Suzy would fill her in on the rest when she was ready, so she let it go for the time being and instead she said, “I was serious about you doing something really different. Sometimes it’s a good way to live out your own fantasies. I mean really, if you had to be experiencing great sex to write about it, I’d be in big trouble.” Jessie’s books were about bikers, so sex was just a natural part of them. She had no hang-ups about writing about sex, but her own life was far from the wild stories that came out of her imagination and became vividly realistic ones in black and white.
With a wicked smile Suzy said, “Well, if you did want some practice…you should come to Delia’s party with me this evening. Mack will be there.”
This time Jessie threw her head back and laughed out loud. Mack Miller was a big, sexy biker who’d had a thing for Jessie since his mother Delia first introduced them ten years before. Delia owned the building that Jessie’s apartment was in, but over the years she’d become much more than a landlord to Jessie; they’d become friends, and Jessie had even become the older woman’s confidante. Suzy knew Delia because of a piece she’d written on a charity the matriarch was running a couple of years before Jessie arrived in San Francisco, when Suzy had been working for a small paper there. Through Delia the two women had become fast friends, and they’d also both come to know Delia’s big, crazy, wild extended family as well.
Jessie wouldn’t even try to deny she found Mack attractive. She’d have to be blind not to see the way the man oozed with sexuality. He was tall, dark, and has a body that looks like it was sculpted out of stone. But…he was affiliated with a motorcycle club; one that was even shadier than the ones she wrote about in her novels. When she’d first met Mack, she’d enjoyed getting an insider’s take on everything MC…but it wasn’t long before their brainstorming sessions had turned into Jessie spending less time taking notes, and more time watching where Mack’s hands were every second, and then she caught herself falling for him, letting her guard down one too many times, and she knew it had to stop. He was a fun and interesting enough person to know, practically a god to look at…but not relationship material in the least. Suzy teased her about that, telling her that “not every hookup has to be about a future.” But no matter how long she lived in the city, or how passionately she wrote about it, Jessie just wasn’t a “hookup with a biker” kind of girl, and she was sure Mack Miller wasn’t a “settle for one woman” kind of guy.
“If you’re trying to sell me on Delia’s party, ‘Mack will be there’ is not the way to do it,” she told her friend with a smile.
“If nothing else, he’s easy on the eyes.”
“More than easy,” Jessie said with a chuckle. Then clearing her throat and growing somewhat serious she said, “I was planning on going to the party anyways though; I’d like it if we can go together. You can run interference with Mack for me.” Suzy laughed and shook her head and Jessie went on, the merriment fading from her eyes again, “Delia sent me an invitation weeks ago and made me swear I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Same here,” Suzy said. She took another sip of her coffee and stared off into the bubbling fountain for several seconds. When she looked back at Jessie there was a renewed spark in her hazel eyes. “You know, Delia has often joked about the two of us collaborating on a book, about her life…what if we did it about the whole family?”
“Oh wow,” Jessie said, “that would be a hell of a story. You don’t think any of them would object?”
Suzy laughed. “I don’t know a single Miller or O’Conner who are embarrassed or ashamed of their lifestyles, all the way from Delia down to Warren.”
The wheels in Jessie’s head were turning. She’d actually used the Miller/O’Conner personalities to spice up some of the characters in her books in the past, but just bits and pieces of them here and there. She began to wonder aloud… “Do you think the readers could handle it? I mean, you don’t think they’d be so offended they wouldn’t read past the first few chapters?”
“Of course, some of them will be,” Suzy said. “But I’ll bet more than would be willing to admit it would love it. It might be their dirty little secret, but they’ll read it, and wish they knew the family the way we do.”
Jessie had to admit that she was intrigued by the idea. She and Suzy had been talking about collaborating on a book for years, and there was no other subject the two women had more in common than Delia Miller’s mess of a family. Jessie was between novels, and Suzy was having a hard time getting started on her next one…maybe it was time. Delia’s family was a mess, but they were an entertaining one for sure. Their lives would shock some of their readers, but Jessie thought Suzy was right, and that it would enthrall others. Delia had spent many an hour over a bottle or three of wine, telling the two women the story of her life, and they’d attended enough parties, fundraisers, family reunions, and holiday get-togethers to have seen for themselves that the matriarch hadn’t been kidding. With the smile on her face blooming as quickly as the ideas in her head, Jessie looked back at her friend and said:
“Why not? Let’s do it.”
Suzy clapped her hands together. “Yay! This is going to be so much fun!”
“When we interview them though, you get Mack,” Jessie said with a giggle.
Suzy winked at her friend. “I’ve been waiting for someone to say that to me for years.”
Jessie Cooke writes hot romance novels about tough guys, bad boys, bikers, fighters and lovers and the women of strong character who tame them.
Genre: Small Town Romance/Action Adventure Romance
Release Date: October 4, 2021
5 Star Goodreads Review – “The Dirty is a fantastic addition to the A Good Run Of Bad Luck series and Nathan and Penny’s story.”
5 Star Goodreads Review – “This book was soooo much fun to read. The characters come alive for me every book I read by Giulia Lagomarsino.”
Nathan
I always dated for fun. In my job, I didn’t have time for anything serious, but that all changed in the blink of an eye. I was looking for Mrs. Stark, and I just found her. Reserved, sexy, every fantasy wrapped up into one beautiful package. But there’s a side to her I never saw coming.
Penny
Everyone thinks I’m a good girl, and for the most part I am. I have a great job, I follow the rules, and I never cause trouble. At least, not outside the bedroom. When I met Nathan, his demeanor immediately screamed that he needed a release, and I was about to give him one.
I’m a stay at home mom that loves to read. Some of my favorite titles are Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Horatio Hornblower. I started writing when I was trying to come up with suggestions on ways I could help bring in some extra money. I came up with the idea that I could donate plasma because you could earn an extra $500/month. My husband responded with, “No. Find something else. Write a blog. Write a book.” I didn’t think I had anything to share on blog that a thousand other mothers hadn’t already thought of. I decided to take his challenge seriously and sat down to write my first book, Jack. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing. From there, the stories continued to flow and I haven’t been able to stop. I hope my readers enjoy my books as much as I enjoy writing them. Between reading, writing, and taking care of three small kids, my days are quite full.
Rebel Maddox. A-list actor and grade-A alpha-hole.
Too bad I need him, almost as much as he needs me. His reputation is… well let’s just say scandalous doesn’t quite cover it. Rebel needs someone to clean up his reckless bad boy image.
But needing someone and wanting them are two very different things. And as his unsolicited publicist I’m about to learn this the hard way. Falling headfirst into a nude portrait of him isn’t exactly the best first impression. Good thing I’m not the one in the spotlight.
If I’m going to succeed, I need to keep my mouth shut and both left feet on the ground. Too bad I’ve never been very good at either. I’ll do anything to save my job. Well, almost anything.
Like Meatloaf said… I won’t do that. Or would I?
Dear reader: Welcome to the world of the A-List Rebels! If you like heat, humor, and angst you’ve come to the right place. HOWEVER, if you are triggered by content that deals with the subject and ramifications of assault this book may not be for you.
Misti Murphy is a sadistic b*tch who loves to emotionally torture fictional people. If she did that in real life she’d probably end up in prison or a psych ward so she prefers to create dirty talking alphas and the sexually frustrated women who fall into their beds. And if someone needs to be smacked upside the head before f*cking turns to love then that makes her very happy indeed.
She’s a huge believer in flaws making us human, and that not everyone likes bacon. She’s also addicted to chocolate and scared of the effects of the coming shortage. She swears like a f*cking trooper, and thinks that graphic smuttiness should be as real in fiction as it is in real life.
When she’s not writing she’s the perfect housewife and mother. Ha bloody ha! When she’s not writing she’s hiding in a cupboard with her kindle, scoffing chocolate, and stalking facebook.
The Shifting Fate Trilogy, an all-new reverse harem trilogy from Tessa Hale, is coming October 20th and we have the stunning covers!
Spark of Fate Book One Releasing October 20th It was supposed to be a fresh start. A completely blank slate in a place where no one knew about the tragedy that ripped her family apart six months ago. A tragedy Rowan can’t help but blame herself for. Now the only thing she wants is to blend in. To escape the house that has become more like a prison. Her new school is her only hope. Somewhere she can pretend she’s just like everyone else. Only Rowan doesn’t realize how unique she is. Holden is the first to recognize it, but he’s not the last. Rowan can’t explain the draw she feels to the guys who have found their way into her life. The way something seems to spark the first moment she touches each of them. How it almost hurts to walk away from them at the end of each day. Things are changing, from the ripple of power humming just below her skin to this new family she’s finding herself a part of. But not all of the changes are good. Someone doesn’t like the power Rowan is stepping into or the bonds she’s forming with the guys who have gifts as rare and strong as her own. And when the truth is revealed, it has the power to burn everything in its wake…
Caught between what should’ve been and everyone’s idea of who I should be, I had to find myself again. That was easier said than done with an interfering, overbearing family like mine.
I told myself I was done rescuing my irresponsible sister, but I didn’t expect flying across an ocean to help her one last time would lead to my own saving.
It was when I surrendered to desire and released my past that love taught me just what could come from letting go.
Getting lost in the pages of a book is Fiona’s favorite escape. Bouncing between YA, contemporary, and romantic suspense, Fiona writes about love because she believes the world needs more of it. Writing from the Pacific Northwest, Fiona can be found creating memories with her family, and daydreaming of her next story while wandering the aisles of local bookstores and coffee shops in the rain.
The Love Words, an all-new enemies-to-lovers small-town romance by Amy Alves, is available now!
Chloe Caldwell was my nemesis in high school. Or maybe I was hers.
I met Chloe during one of the worst times of my life and she called me out as the troublemaking, mischievous jerk I was. After eight years, she still hates me.
But I’m not some punk kid anymore.
I have a daughter to raise, a life to build. Unfortunately for Chloe, that life is in her hometown. The same small town she left years ago.
Now she’s back and to everyone else, she’s the same delightful, kind-hearted girl.
That’s not the Chloe I get.
No, I get the woman hell-bent on vengeance. Her attempts at putting me in my place only make me want to smack her sweet, sassy backside. I crave her salty attitude and angry jabs.
When our animosity starts affecting my daughter, a truce is formed.
Even if everything inside me is aching to explore her, possess her—I can’t. Because I know she would want it all. She’d want what I’ve never given to any woman before her.
She’d want all my love words.
Grab your copy today! FREE in Kindle Unlimited
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Add to Goodreads→ https://rebrand.ly/thelovewordsGRExcerpt Chloe
“Jess says you’re settling in well. I sometimes forget you lived here growing up, that this isn’t all new for you. Though, maybe it’s harder to adjust after staying away for so long? You know, when you were avoiding your past,” my new sister-in-law comments randomly. It’s the thing I love most about her—there’s no pretense with Emma. She puts her thoughts and feelings out into the world, uncensored and guileless.
I bite my lip and share an amused smile with Lauren. As Emma’s best friend, she’s hardly ever surprised by much the woman across from us says or does. Lauren goes back to looking over the volunteer schedule for the Little League baseball teams that need coaching help this summer.
I’ve been living in Landry for a couple of weeks, but prior to that, had been visiting more often lately, slowly re-establishing myself here. It was a bit of a test to see if moving back felt like coming home or self-inflicted torture. I was nervous and uncertain. As a confident nurse practitioner, these are two emotions I haven’t experienced in a while.
“Some things are new, but mostly it’s almost like I never left. Probably shouldn’t have stayed away as long as I did.” Like Emma, I was a conflict avoider. Introspective thinking usually comes from a place of deep feelings, and mine pointed toward deep discontent—with my job, where I was living, and what I felt was missing. My adolescent goals have changed over the years, but some still resonated. Like making Landry my home again.
Those old dreams changed because of one person. Well, technically two people.
“Because of the thing that happened that we don’t talk about? Or because of the Hades guy you’re always scowling at? Or wait, those are the same things, right?” Emma asks.
“Don’t worry, from what I’ve heard, no one talks about it anymore. It’s old news.” Lauren squeezes my hand, knowing the expansive reach of the Landry rumor mill. “I think it was over soon after it all went down, especially since you went off to college anyway.” It’s times like now that I remember how involved Lauren is with this town, especially considering she only moved here a few years ago. “But when Hayden moved back with his baby girl, alone, suddenly people were talking about the way he used to be. The young Hayden.” I raise my brows at her. “I mean, Hades. Sorry, forgot about our Taps drinking rule. He will always be referred to as ‘Hades’ when we drink here, even if he scowls at us for calling him that.”
Taps & Tapas is by far the most popular bar and grill in Landry, and not because it’s the only one with theme nights, a dance floor, and darts. It also has delicious food and usually great service. Even when it was Evan, Landry’s grumpiest bartender, serving our beverages.
However, now that Evan is off chasing his own goals, getting his degree, and living with his slightly crazy but adorable girlfriend, things have changed. Evan hired Hades to fill his place when he moved.
So, my previously favorite spot to drink, dance, and have fun with my favorite people is now a source of contention. Hades tainted another place in this town for me.
“The town is either tight-lipped or vague as hell about it. I need all the details about what happened and who we need to crush for whatever made you run off to college and go MIA for a while. Spill, girl. This one”—she jerks a thumb in Emma’s direction—“won’t talk. She says no one needs to know and that you’re putting it behind you. However, having a bit of a vindictive streak myself, I can tell you’ve got a dormant volcano in the emotional abyss where you push down the anger and pain. I’d like to be prepared for the impending explosion. Not that I think you shouldn’t have the explosion. Sometimes you need to blow up your life. Emma and I know that better than anyone. Moving back and facing your nemesis counts. I just don’t want to miss it. I also require the full story. It’s the teacher in me. Give me the full character arc—devastation to redemption. Avoidance to acceptance. Whatever it is—oof, one minute, ladies. I’ll be back.” Lauren shuffles out of the booth. “Don’t talk about anything interesting while I’m peeing.”
In her second trimester, Lauren is energetic, exhausted, emotional, and a whole slew of other traits her pregnancy intensified. Basically, it’s everything Lauren was pre-pregnancy but amped up a hundred percent.
A cold drink, dripping with condensation, slides in front of me right before I smell the hint of that fresh laundry and warm spice unique to one man I try to stay out of smelling distance from. I chuff the scent of Hayden Daniels out of my nostrils as he passes out the rest of the beverages to the ladies.
“Two non-alcoholic mojitos for the beautiful ladies with child and one spiked lemonade for the ornery pain in the ass. Enjoy.”
I promptly push the drink away.
“I want Ricky to bring me a new drink. I don’t trust this one.”
Did I order the spiked lemonade cocktail with the explicit intention of giving him shit? Yes.
Does that make me immature? Maybe.
Fine, it absolutely does, but I deserve to get a few digs in. If not to clue him in on my new “take no shit” attitude, but also to assert my stance on both how I feel about him and my dominance in this town. My town. He won’t push me out again.
“I work here, Princess. I wouldn’t risk my job by messing with your drink. No matter how tempting that may be.”
“See? That’s what I mean. I know you want to. You’ve done it before.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Done what? What did he do with your drink before?” Emma asks, eyeing hers skeptically.
“So glad you asked, Emma. He pissed in it. It wasn’t a drink, it was urine on ice.”
Shocked gasps surround me. Lauren’s timing returning to the table is excellent.
“Hayden, what the hell? Is that true?” Lauren gags a little.
“I was seventeen at the time and a shit. So yeah, probably true.” He turns to me, his expression bored. “Though, I wouldn’t have let you drink it. I was just messing around.”
“Yeah, you did that a lot. And my lips were on the straw, Hades. You didn’t stop me—I smelled it. That’s how I knew what it was. You laughed as I chucked it at you.”
“So dramatic.” He sighs. “First, I tried to say something, but you turned away the moment you snatched the drink from my hand. Second, I may have known about it, but it wasn’t my piss.” He continues despite my glare. “I mean, honestly, I was doing you a favor.” I gape, attempting to incinerate him with my eyes. “You learned an important lesson. You should never take a drink you’re handed. That drink could’ve been from any ill-intentioned asshole attempting to give you who knows what!”
“So, you’re saying my options were roofies or urine? That’s what you’re going with?”
“How concerned should we be about our beverages tonight, new guy?” Lauren asks. “If Evan were here, we wouldn’t need to be concerned about urine in our drinks. I’m texting him right now.”
“Oh, come on, Lauren, don’t text Evan. I know you’ve assigned yourself as his bestie or whatever, but he hired me—”
“Well, technically I hired you, Hades, and it seems there’s a reason Chloe here isn’t falling for your grinning, roguish, scruffy looks, and whatever forearm porn you keep flashing her way.” Oh God. Lauren, no, please stop.
“I don’t fall for assholes or their bullshit,” I confirm. There, that felt good.
“That’s alright, Princess. You’re not exactly my type either. I’ll have Ricky bring you a fresh drink. Just knowing you likely never took a drink from anyone else ever again is a win. Glad I could teach you a little something in the young, naïve”—he eyes me up and down—“perkier stages of your life.” He picks up the drink, raps the table briefly with his knuckles, and takes one step before I stop him. My fingers meet the sinewy forearm I’ve been trying not to stare at. Damn Lauren for drawing attention to his rough, roped, sun-darkened forearms.
“No. You don’t win. There are no winners in this situation. Unless it’s me.” His arm feels like steel wrapped in power and heat. What was my point, again? “I’m getting a fresh drink, and you are doing a piss-poor job—pun intended—justifying your teenage barbaric behavior. End of story.”
“Ah. But my life lesson stuck with you for eight years. That’s the goal, right, Teach?” He glances at Lauren. “You want your lessons to stick.”
“Okay, first, don’t call me ‘Teach.’ Only Evan gets to.” Lauren points a finger at him. “Second, he’s got a teeny, tiny point there, Chlo. But assholes still don’t get to win arguments at this table, so run along now. Oh, and I need pretzels. Emma? How’s your nausea today?”
“I’m good. The nausea passed weeks ago, but I didn’t want to say anything because you were still having a hard time and needed the companionable sympathy.”
I’m at a bar with two pregnant chicks. This first girls’ night out in Landry has gone a little differently than I pictured.
“Pretzels, a fresh drink for Princess, and a free forearm groping. Got it.” He looks pointedly at the hand still resting on his arm.
Well, shit, I’m still touching him.
I retract my hand like it had been burned.
He winks at me. “You’re welcome, babe.”
“No!” The deep sound reverberates from deep within me.
I glare at his broad back as he heads toward the bar.
“You can’t just shout ‘no’ at me anytime you don’t like something I do or say,” he calls out, not even bothering to fully turn around before disappearing into the kitchen. I catch a flash of his cocky grin right as the door swings closed.
“I don’t think you won that one, Chloe.” Emma offers a sad pat on the top of the fist I have pressed against the table.
She’s right but I say nothing. Hayden and I will either eventually get along or things will escalate.
Meet Amy
Amy Alves lives in Alberta, Canada with her husband and two crazy cute kids. She is a romance-obsessed reader, a lover of wine and fuzzy socks, and a loather of laundry. She loves contemporary, paranormal, and rom com romance—her kindle always has a long list of books waiting to be read.
Amy writes contemporary romance with a hint of rom com fun. Tropes you can expect to see are: second chance, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, and fake relationships.
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My life has been a rollercoaster ride, consisting of both wonderful and horrifying moments. I was a child when Nico found me, resulting in my adoption by a woman who raised me alongside the Mayson children. They became my best friends and life was good until tragedy struck and I ran off to join the military. When I came home, everyone welcomed me with open arms. I was at an all-time low, drowning in my dark thoughts, unsure how to go on, until love saved me.
Rose:
Being on the run with a small child hasn’t been easy. I thought we’d finally discovered our safe haven in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. A relationship was the last thing on my mind, then I met Robert Kent, a wounded hero inside and out. While I tried to resist him, doing so was impossible, as if something greater than ourselves wanted us together. Our respective pasts made us kindred souls. When mine comes for me, I pray we’re strong enough to survive it.
Until Love is part of the Aurora Rose Reynolds’s Happily Ever Alpha World. If you loved Until Sage, then you will want to read Until Love.
Warning: Sweet, sexy and safe reads! Happily ever after guaranteed! This author writes what she likes to read. That means there will be instalove, OTT Heroes, and, brace yourselves, virgin characters at times. If none of those float your boat, you might want to find another book. If they do, you’re in the right place.
Under the banner of truce during the holy Spring Festa, four Chosen priests of the war god brutalized me, cut my throat, and dumped my naked corpse in a mass grave.
They plan to do the same to my entire clan.
The priests of the Hierarchy believed that was the end of me.
But Death loves me. And he’s giving me a second shot.
There’s a price I’ll need to pay, of course. Later. I have a plan for that, too.
First, I have unfinished business with my murderers. I need to save my family and protect my clan. And I burn for revenge. I’ll kill the four that took my life and threatened those I love.
They won’t die easy.
Warning: Raven Queen, Arise is a dark epic fantasy thriller. It contains material some people might find objectionable or triggering or evil. If you are sensitive to certain kinds of content, this might not be the book for you. Specific details can be found here: davereed.me/raven-queen-arise/
“Oh, my, my, my. I just read a very sweet hug of words, emotion and kindness. Dean the Machine and Tabitha Tyler are adorable.” ` Pineapples and Coffee Book Reviews
“What an absolute feel good read! I smiled throughout this entire book!!! Low in drama and high in love.” ~ Goodreads Review (Jessi)
Summer in the city heats up when the girl who got away moves in next door.
Dean “The Machine” is a South Philly legend. Much to the dismay of fans who still hound him, the broody former fighter walked away from his boxing career right before clinching another championship belt. Tight-lipped on his reasons for retiring, he’s busy trying to figure out his future when the past literally falls in his lap.
Tabitha Tyler, the fiery redhead who captured his teenage heart, is back in town and staying next door. Only now the girl that got away is all grown up and offering him a strings-free, summer fling. Dean knows better than to start something that will leave him flat on his back and seeing stars.
But there’s only so much temptation a man can take.
Kept away by the secrets that tore her family apart, sparkly filmmaker Tabitha is home for the first time in nine years. And her old friend and new hunky neighbor is just the distraction she needs. It’s the perfect relationship for her – one with an expiration date.
She’s got two weeks to convince him to cave.
He’s got two weeks to convince her to stay.
But when she refuses to let down her guard, Dean realizes that this time…he just might get knocked out for good.
Author’s note: A smokin’ hot, friends-to-lovers, opposites-attract love story in a close-knit South Philly neighborhood with a quirky cast of nosy but well-intentioned neighbors.
When I was eighteen years old, I took a surprise right hook to the jaw during an amateur match that sent me sprawling to the ground. Every boxer takes a bad one early in their career and learns something from it. I learned that I didn’t like having my head snapped back without warning.
But before that hook? I didn’t think you could take a punch that had you seeing stars.
That one made me a believer. I laid flat on my back that night in a world of pain, and the entire solar system spun around my face.
Tabitha Tyler falling into my lap at Benny’s Bar had me believing again.
One minute I was studying the screen, pissed off at the loud guy next to me. The next? A gorgeous redhead toppled into my arms. And even though I hadn’t seen her in years, the very second she aimed that shiny smile my way, I was nothing but a dazed teenager again.
“Of all the laps in this damn city, I had to fall into yours,” she said in her low, melodic voice.
I blinked at her. Blinked again. My mouth went dry as a desert. My body shivered with jittery nerves. I didn’t want to stare, could only take in quick glimpses of her—pale skin, freckles and delicate tattoos, dark red hair, those big brown eyes.
“Tabitha?” My voice came out strangled, like she was an illusion I couldn’t trust.
She winked at me. Tabitha Tyler, former head cheerleader and popular senior girl, the source of my long, hopeless crush, winked at me.
Stars exploded across my eyes. So did the planets, the moon, the sun. I wasn’t prepared to take a hit like this. Could only try not to let my jaw hang open at the shock.
“The one and only,” she said, still smiling. “Nice to see ya, Dean Knox-Morelli.” Her body shifted in my lap, wiggled around, and I learned the true meaning of the word willpower. “Although word on the street is you go by Dean the Machine now, and I have to say, that nickname is awesome. Is that what I should call you? Or something more formal like Mr. Machine?”
I was speechless.
“So…Mr. Machine it is, then?” She brushed her hair over her shoulder. I did not stare at the curve of her throat. “I like it. It’s formal. Respectful. Commands a certain amount of authority. Though I’ve known you for, like, a million years so maybe it’s a little weird. But this is South Philly. Who haven’t we known for our entire lives?”
An embarrassing memory floated up—a dozen exchanges like this one, in school hallways or walking down the street or after the support group we’d attended together. Tabitha talking to me as if she had no idea who she was—and no understanding of how I wasn’t deserving.
“Hi,” I managed to say. It was the one word I could rescue from the chaos of my thoughts.
She bit her lip, looking almost shy for a second. “Hi.”
A beat of silence passed between us. One where the door of a bizarre reality opened and I was just a regular guy at the local bar, sitting with his very pretty girlfriend in his lap. A girlfriend with bare skin warm against mine, the tips of my fingers grazing the top of her thigh, her smell of sweet oranges all around us.
“Not that I don’t appreciate you catching me, but uh…you can…you know…” Her eyebrow was lifted, teasing, and then her fingers pressed against my arms. The arms locked tight around her waist.
I cleared my throat and quickly released her. “I’m…so sorry. I don’t—”
She slid easily from my legs to the chair right next to me, her bare knees pressed against me in the crowded space. “One of my dreams has always been to fall into the lap of a famous athlete. I should be thanking you for making a girl’s dream come true.”
The solar system drifted across my face again. I felt like a fried circuit breaker.
Kathryn Nolan is an adventurous hippie chick and loves to write steamy romance. Her books are filled with slow-burn sexual tension, memorable characters, tons of heart — and are often set in wild and beautiful locations.
Kathryn started her writing career in elementary school, writing about Star Wars and Harry Potter and inventing love stories in her many journals. She blames her obsession with slow-burn on her similar obsession for The X-Files.
Kathryn is a wanderer at heart, and loves to spend her free time hiking, camping, and traveling in her camper van (“Van Morrison”) with her cute, nerdy husband and Walter, their rescue pup. Kathryn is a Philly girl who just moved back home after spending more than 8 years living in Northern California — and six months traveling across the country in her camper van.
