I stared out onto the city, well aware that even if it were daylight, no one would be able to see in here. It made me feel our isolation more, and I loved it.
Wanted it.
Craved more.
Needed like I’d never needed before.
Then, everything changed.
It was quite accidental.
A sharp turn around a bend had us jostling into each other. Nothing crazy. But our hands slipped, and the edge of mine brushed against his crotch.
He had a hard-on.
He had a hard-on, yet he wasn’t pawing at me. Wasn’t treating me like I was a whore. Was holding me as if I were the opposite, in fact.
His control was lust-inducing.
His arousal was inspiring.
And I wanted both.
I wanted his control ruptured.
His arousal burned off.
On me.
I turned my face to the side, letting my lips press against his throat. His pulse bobbed as a result and as I let my tongue dart out to play, he groaned, and I felt the soft vibrations. Encouraged, I sucked down, nipping and teasing as I made my way up, soft kisses dancing against the line of his jaw where I could feel the slight bumps of stubble that would begin to grow soon.
Finally, I found his mouth. Reaching up with my free hand, I encouraged him to tilt his head downward so our lips could meet.
A whimper escaped me when they did.
It felt as if I’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment, for the meeting of our mouths, for this kiss. Time stopped still, everything in me freezing as my body processed the rightness of the connection between us.
About Serena
I’m a romance bookaholic and I won’t touch a book unless I know there’s a happy ending. This addiction is what made me craft stories that suit my voracious need for raunchy romance. I love twists and unexpected turns, and my novels all contain sexy guys, dark humor, and hot AF love scenes.
I write MF, Menage, and Reverse Harem (also known as Why Choose romance,) in both contemporary and paranormal. Some of my stories are darker than others, but I can promise you one thing, you will always get the happy ending your heart needs!
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new standalone novel.
The one that got away. Every girl has one, right?
Mine was a charming, British aristocrat who turned my world upside down one summer.
From the moment I first spotted Leo in the distance through my binoculars, I’d been captivated. I certainly never expected to find a man showering outside of the property across the bay in his birthday suit.
Then I noticed his housemate staring back at me with binoculars of his own—watching me watching Leo.
That made for an interesting conversation starter when I inevitably ran into them.
Turned out, the handsome Brits were only renting that house for the summer in my seaside town.
Leo and I formed an instant connection, even though we were technically opposites by all appearances. I taught him how to dig for clams, and he taught me that not all wealthy and powerful guys are pretentious.
Despite knowing he was totally wrong for me, I couldn’t seem to stay away.
It was a wild and crazy few months. And before I knew it, we’d fallen in love.
We both had one wish: more time together.
But Leo had obligations back home. He lived a life I’d never fit into. And I was going to law school. So, we decided to end it and never look back.
A part of me always felt like I’d let my soulmate walk away.
I believed our story was over.
Until five years later when he sent me a letter that shook me to my core.
I’d thought my world was turned upside down that first summer?
Penelope
Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling
author of contemporary romance.
She grew up
in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a
television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son,
and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two
million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author
of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen
languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
Family lore about falling in forever love made for fun fireside fairy tales, but Kirsty Durnin isn’t interested. After spending her high school years washing baby vomit out of her hair and rerouting her college plans after her mother’s surprise pregnancy, she’s finally ready to finish her undergrad degree before pursuing her master’s. No more distractions…until she indulges in an impulsive, mind-melting New Year’s kiss with Gladiators offensive lineman, Everest.
Everest McBride oozes chiseled, mountain-sized masculine perfection and dominates on and off the field. Everest thought he had his life plan lined up like hash marks on a football field before he met Kirsty. Suddenly, he can’t get the pint-sized pixie out of his head. Everest’s go-to game plan to win Kirsty’s heart involves charm, but getting ghosted isn’t in his playbook.
Kirsty refuses to let a single smooch, no matter how hot, detour her path. By ignoring Everest, she’ll forever fracture her family’s “love at first kiss” fairy tale, but Everest plays to win, and, besides, he gives really good text.
CHAPTER ONE
Kirsty Durnin
DECEMBER
Cross-country travel during the week between the holidays requires stamina, patience, and an emergency pair of underwear tucked in your carry-on. I have zero patience, but according to my dead granny Kay, I’m as full as a tick when it comes to stamina.
The two-story wall of glass allows sunlight to illuminate the area inside the Arrivals Terminal at San Jose International Airport. The brightness highlights the frenetic motion of people. Baggage claim can only be described in one word: chaos. People jostle each other for space around each carousel like cash is about to roll out instead of luggage.
I’m about to meet a lot of people I’ll be going to school with next September. It’s exciting, but I’m nervous, too. This week will be my opportunity to become friends with all the people in Faith’s world. In a way, it’s surreal. For the longest time it was just me and my best friend, Faith. The two of us against a bunch of buttheads we went to school with. Now there’s an entire group of people in her life.
A pang strikes my heart. I hope I still have a place in my bestie’s life by the time I transfer here.
Someone snorts behind me, then I hear a few hushed giggles, which makes me glance over to the other baggage station. What appears to be a sex toy wiggles its way around the carousel. I’m not sure if the thing happened to turn on—or if some baggage handler with a sick sense of humor decided to flip it to live mode—but I’m mesmerized by its frenzied gyrating.
I’m puzzled by the numerous squid-like tentacles on the apparatus, but not in a judgey way. I mean, I can’t see the need for that many appendages, but I haven’t made self-pleasure an Olympic sport.
That device is out of my league—belonging to a gold medalist if I’ve ever seen one.
“That’s so unsanitary. Stan is ruined,” a gorgeous brunette behind me cries out. I do a double take when I recognize the young woman. She’s a beauty influencer on KickBack. Is it Stan the squid or STAN the sex cephalopod, her most zealous fan? I roll my lips inward because I don’t want to laugh. Stan looks like a comfort animal of the finest sort. My respect for the beauty diva goes way up.
“Whatsat, Mama?” a little girl about my baby brother’s ripe age of five asks in the hushed lull.
I glance at the little girl’s mama waiting for her answer. I’m interested, too. Since I might need a fast comeback if I ever find myself in a similar situation.
“It’s a bath toy, Brittany.”
Nice save.
“I want one. I want one. I WANT one.”
“Don’t we all, sweetheart,” another woman near us agrees, tongue-in-cheek.
Truth.
My banana-yellow director of pleasure—named after my favorite minion—remains safely at home. No chance of Kevin buzzing down the conveyor for all to see. I’m grateful for the spared indignity.
The influencer’s friend or assistant scrambles to retrieve Stan. Poor squid. That’s just wrong. I glance away. No one touches Kevin except me. And my baby brother—but that was only one time, before I learned to store Kevin out of Collin’s reach. He hadn’t learned to talk yet, so Mom never heard about his discovery. Small blessings.
It’s impossible not to stare at the spectacle.
Someone squeezes next to me on my right. I can’t glance away from the person valiantly fighting to stuff the sizeable squid into her laptop bag, while the diva flaps her arms, doing her best to direct the proceedings.
The person who scooted in next to me might have done so for a front-row seat to the Stan show. At least that’s my assumption, since I haven’t glanced their way. Meanwhile, the poor gal trying to wrestle Stan into her bag reminds me of my own frustration trying to wrestle Collin—affectionately nicknamed the turd—into pajamas back in his toddler days. No small feat.
The person beside me says, “The most interesting people can be found at the airport.”
His voice seems to float down from far above me. There are two things that feed a crush for me: a distinctive voice and the shape of a man’s hands. I have a thing about hands. I have no idea why—I know it’s silly—but it is what it is. The voice makes me pause. His voice is deep and smooth like a shot of top-shelf tequila. Tangy. Delicious.
“Totally,” I agree. Still not glancing in his direction. Inevitably his voice and face won’t match, or he’ll be old enough to be my father.
My phone trills with a text. I check the screen. It’s from Faith, who patiently waits for me in the cell phone lot:
Do you have your bag?
I glance at the carousel to my left and don’t see my bag. Bright orange and turquoise tends to stand out among the blues, grays, and blacks of standard-issue suitcase colors. There are fewer bags on the conveyor. My eyebrows pinch together with worry. Hiking my heavy backpack higher on my shoulder, I type a reply:
No sign of it yet.
The girl wrestling the vibrator gives up and braces Stan under her arm. It starts to gyrate again, making her jump. I clamp my hand over my mouth as soon as the snicker escapes. Damn. That is one formidable sex toy.
The guy beside me coughs to cover his laugh. The sound tugs a grin from me.
I watch the dynamic duo weave their way through the crowd at the terminal, turning back to my own carousel once I lose sight of them. My heart sinks. I realize that while I’d been watching the squid showcase, only four suitcases remain circling my baggage carousel. My bag isn’t among them. “Shit.”
“Problem?”
I glance up, and farther up, and finally make eye contact with the person next to me, who happens to be the finest specimen of man flesh I’ve seen in real life. In the grand scheme, twenty isn’t all that old, but it’s still a significant amount of time. My breath hitches.
He’s age-appropriate. His hair is a light cinnamon brown that probably bleaches to a more gingery color in the summer sun. He reminds me of a younger version of the actor who plays Jamie Fraser in the Outlander series, but this guy looms even larger.
I happen to glance at his hands. Holy shit—I shouldn’t have. His hands are large. Long fingers with scrapes along the knuckles add ruggedness to his almost elegant hands. When our eyes meet, his navy-blue eyes resemble the color of the deepest part of the ocean, an abyss that renders me incapable of glancing away.
A shiver works its way down my spine. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, distracting me. I break eye contact to check the screen. Faith sent another text:
Keep an eye out for Everest. He went inside to find you.
Then it hits me. The exemplar of male beauty standing next to me has a Fortis University Gladiators hoodie on with the motto fortis fortuna adiuvat screen-printed under an icon of a sword. Hilt positioned between his pecs, blade pointing down toward nirvana. I force my gaze not to drop lower. His arms are huge, the circumference certainly bigger than my thighs. “Everest, I presume?”
“At your service.” He smiles at me.
Something deep inside my core pulls tight. “Climb Every Mountain” sung by the Mother Abbess to Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music plays in my head. Full volume.
This could be a problem. Everest is Faith’s friend and her boyfriend’s teammate. Unacceptable. He’s so pretty, a voice inside my head whines.
No. No. No.
Men are off-limits—even a gorgeous man who looks like one of my favorite actors. Didn’t Daniel teach you anything? I shake my head to clear my thoughts, then I breathe deep.
“I’m Kirsty. It’s nice to meet you,” I murmur, shoving my right hand at him.
When his hand clasps mine, the current travels up my arm and down my chest, settling low in my core to zap my lady bits. Holy cow. It’s like his hand is a lightning rod. One touch and he nearly blasted off the latch to my jewelry box. I release my grip before my underpants combust.
His pupils dilate and the side of his mouth lifts in a grin. “Likewise.”
He’s freaking potent. Knock it off, I scold myself, shoving my tingling hand into the front pocket of my jeans.
Excerpt from “Handful, Chapter 1.”
By: C.R. Grissom, Tule Publishing
C.R. Grissom lives in San Jose, California—smack dab in the middle of Silicon Valley. She works for a high-tech company by day, and at night writes contemporary sports romance featuring young adults as they transition to college.
We move when the hunt has ended in one place, only to begin again.
It has nothing to do with the warmth of spring and summer or the chill of autumn and winter. Our seasons are measured by something else entirely. And while I sometimes wonder if he’ll ever tire of his god games, I also know that he enjoys it far too much to ever stop.
Hunger is never an issue for us, and because of that, what we are isn’t apparent. I prefer animals, and so does he in a roundabout way. It’s how he sees humans—as animals that lack the common instinct to survive when presented with something beautiful.
As we leave our current home for the next, I wonder what time has in store for us. Whatever it may be, as long as we’re by each other’s sides, nothing else will matter.
We’ve already gone to the end.
Now it’s time for the cycle to repeat itself.
vxhexn reads – “so good you NEED to read it at least twice ?♥️?
these two vaMMps will curl up and stay with you.”
Goodreads Review – “The storyline was intriguing and gripping and I really hope we get to see more from this world!”
Bookish Barbi – “Only Yolanda Olson could pull me into a dark, MM, Vampire romance and have me craving more.”
Dying Season – Releasing August 7, 2022
Yolanda Olson is a USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books. You can keep in touch with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
Dirty Diana, an all-new billionaire bully romance from January James, is available now!
My name is Diana.
I’m a small-town English girl in Manhattan, being eaten alive by an all-consuming job in a city that never sleeps.
Everything I once loved now suffocates me, but long-kept secrets mean I can’t go home.
The day I was invited to join the exclusive Decadence Club was the day my life was saved. Finally, I could be anonymous; I could be anyone I wanted for one night only; I could live out my fantasies without anyone knowing.
There were only three rules:
Don’t reveal your real name
Don’t give out personal information
Never meet the same member twice
I broke all three. Then he turned up at my office.
The best lay of my life is otherwise known as Jude Peyton-Harris, notorious ball-breaking business ‘fixer’, and my new CEO. He knows my secret and he wants my job gone.
But I can’t go home.
I can only stay and fight.
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My appetite had vanished and, without sleep, I felt light-headed as I walked along the corridor to Jude’s office. I’d been in that office hundreds of times to meet with Alex, the former CEO. We’d all been told he resigned, but now I suspected he’d been pushed—that hiring Jude had been a calculated and premeditated move on the part of the board and shareholders.
I still couldn’t believe Jude—the man whose body I knew intimately—was sitting behind that door. My heart thumped as I approached it. I knew how my body would react as soon as I saw him. I would melt into a pool of lust, right there on the floor, while my brain battled to realign itself to the new reality—a reality in which he and I would be enemies. Because we wanted two very different things. He wanted me out, and I wanted nothing of the kind.
I hesitated at the door, hoping I might summon some inner strength from somewhere, but my heart still thumped, loudly and erratically. He’d said six pm prompt, and it was six pm. I had to go in. I knocked twice and waited. After a long pause I heard, “Come in”.
I pushed the door and held my breath as he came into view. It helped, holding my breath. I considered, in that moment, making it the basis of my coping strategy. I could just stop breathing. Then I realized that nothing was going to help, not even self-imposed suffocation.
My heart racketed around my chest the moment I set eyes on his dirty blonde hair softly curled around his ears; his dark blue eyes staring back at me, warily; his large form standing rigid behind his desk. It reminded me of when I’d emerged from the room during my first night at the club. He was tense all over, as though he was trying to repel something.
“Take a seat,” he said, his voice hollow and sounding nothing like it had when he’d stroked the contours of my thigh less than twenty-four hours earlier.
I did as he instructed, swallowing my nerves. He slowly sat down himself, in the seat opposite me; the same seat I’d seen my previous CEO sit in many times before. The air in the room was different to how I remembered it. It was cold—the air con had been cranked right up—and it smelled of fresh body odor and worn leather, as though there had been a lot of pacing around.
“I understand you have some concerns about my appointment,” he said, sitting back in his chair, the full width of his cotton-covered chest exposed as his jacket fell open. My breath hitched.
“That’s an understatement,” I replied, getting straight to the point. If he thought I was going to go along with this, without even acknowledging our relationship, he was sorely mistaken. “Did you know I worked here?” I knew the answer would be no; he would never have made any of those plans to see me if he had. But I wanted answers—any answers.
“No, of course not.”
“Do they know about your role at the club?”
“Yes. I’m on the board of several organizations and I disclosed all of them.”
“You’re still on the board of Decadence, then?”
“Resigning from a board takes time, Miss Delaney.”
I baulked at his use of my surname. He’d already been through our employee records, I guessed.
“And that’s still your plan?”
He took a measured breath. “I can’t discuss that with you.”
His robotic dryness was beginning to get on my nerves.
“Can I ask you one thing?”
He didn’t reply, but the tick of his jaw suggested he knew what was coming.
“Did it mean anything to you? What we had?”
Had. I was already speaking about our relationship in past tense and it made a little piece of my heart ache. He stared at me, almost incredulous. His voice was quiet, and more akin to the Jude I thought I knew.
“Of course it did,” he replied. “Don’t you think I’m in as much shock as you are? You were the last person I expected to see in that room.”
“You acted as though I was nobody.”
“I had to,” he said. “You have to be no different to anyone else here. I have to treat all of you the same, no favors.”
“I’m not a child,” I grimaced. “I know how these things work and I don’t expect any favors. Why did you keep me waiting until six to meet?”
He dropped his head.
“I wasn’t sure what to say to you,” he said, quietly. “I still don’t know. It wasn’t even yesterday when I had everything planned out—how you and I might be able to start seeing each other.” He stretched his arms up and behind his head and faced out of the window, then he gave a small, hollow laugh. “Fuck. I was even planning where to take you at the weekend.”
My stomach plummeted another inch as it hit me again what was being ripped away. It was like someone was pulling a table cloth, leaving everything intact on the foundation beneath. Only, in my case, even that was turning to rubble.
As he stared out the window, something to my left caught my attention. The usually pristine white, unscathed wall of Alex’s old office had a massive dent in it, right across from where Jude was sitting. I looked back to the hands resting at the back of his head, the head I had held when we kissed for what I hadn’t realized would be the last time. The knuckle of his right hand was purple.
I stood and walked around the desk, his eyes following me nervously.
“When did this happen?” I asked, taking hold of his battered hand. In one glance I knew he couldn’t lie about it. We were in bed together only hours earlier and this bruise had not been there then. And while I’d been immersed too deeply in shock in the boardroom to have looked at his hands, I somehow knew the injury had happened since, and that dent in the wall had something to do with it.
“Nine twenty-three,” he replied, in a whisper.
I mentally rewound. He’d walked out of the boardroom at exactly nine twenty and it would have taken him three minutes to walk back up the stairs and along the corridor to here, his office. I raised his hand to my lips and gently kissed his bruised knuckle. Tears pricked my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he said, his voice cracking.
“I know. But that’s how I feel,” I closed my eyes to focus on the broken skin of his hand against my lips. “I just feel sorry; about all of this.”
He turned his chair towards me and pushed himself to his feet. His hand turned over in mine, then it cupped my face.
“Diana…” he started. I looked up into his eyes and saw liquid. He tilted my chin up towards his and brought his lips down to mine. The metallic taste of dried blood gave way to the sweet tang of his mouth and I allowed myself to drown in him. I knew it could never happen again. He moved deliberately and meaningfully around my mouth, stroking my tongue with his, teasing it across my lips. It was no ordinary kiss; he was leaving his mark on me, because he knew he could never return.
I reached my hands up and pushed my fingers through his soft curls, tugging him further into me. In turn, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his body. I felt him thick and firm between us and almost cried knowing I would never feel him inside me again. A sob passed from my throat to his and it seemed to remind him where he was.
“Fuck, fuck!” He groaned, dropping his hands and pulling away. He turned his back to me and rubbed his bruised hand across his face, wincing slightly.
“Diana… you have to forget that happened. It can’t happen again.”
“I know,” I whispered behind him. “Don’t worry. I won’t expect it again, but I can’t promise I’ll forget.”
He hit his forehead with the heel of his palm. Then again, and again. I reached forward and held his arm. “Stop it, please…”
He turned to face me and his eyes were ringed red.
“I wish I hadn’t been their only option,” he whispered, almost to himself.
“What do you mean?”
“The board. Your board.”
“Why were you?” I didn’t follow; surely there were plenty of people available who did the kind of job Jude had been hired for.
“This,” he waved his arm, referring, I presumed, to Empirical Records, “is a much-loved brand. The acts are international darlings. The choices I’m going to have to make will be deeply unpopular. I’m expecting the usual—hate mail, death threats, broken windows, the lot. Not many people are willing to walk into a situation like that.”
“So, why you?” I frowned.
“Because…” he laughed again, bitterly, “I don’t care. I have no fucking feelings.”
He scrubbed his face again. “Supposedly.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, shaking my head. Because I didn’t. The Jude I knew had feelings. Feelings of lust, desire, need.
“All my life I’ve been numb,” he said, bitterness on the edge of his tongue. “I’ve had no problem walking into a business like this and shredding it to pieces. I can make any company a lot of money, by doing the work they’re too soft to do themselves. I’ve never known any of the employees I’ve had to fire, let alone slept with them several times or agreed to start up a relationship with them.”
He walked to the other side of the room, shaking his head.
“This is justice, it has to be. I deserve this. I’ve been ruthless until now, and this is payback. No one gets away with being such an asshole for so long.”
“That’s rubbish,” I said, understanding he wasn’t actually talking to me; he was having this conversation with himself and I was simply witness to it.
“I deserve it,” he said, quietly, facing out of the window.
I stood there, at a loss for what I could say to make him understand it wasn’t his fault—none of this was. Then, as though a switch had been flicked inside him, he seemed to transform into the Jude I saw in the boardroom—blank, callous and abrupt. He turned sharply from the window and strode purposefully towards me.
“I can’t continue this conversation,” he said, suddenly business-like. “It stops now. And I have a job to do.”
I stepped back in surprise at the sudden change in his tone.
“You’re going to try and force me out, aren’t you?”
The least he could do was tell me the truth; what I could expect.
“Yes. Your division is a drain on the business.”
I almost choked. The way he said it, so blunt, so matter-of-fact; it threw me off balance.
“It makes no financial sense to keep it,” he continued, twisting the knife. “And your acts are peanuts compared to big hitters elsewhere in the group. If anything, Phoenix Music is a distraction, an indulgence. It’s the music industry equivalent of those little hobby shops set up by rich housewives as something to do with their time.”
I gasped. His sentiment was venomous but his tone was even, and deadpan, like his face.
“I’m not going to roll over for you,” I spat at him. “You can’t get me out that easily.”
He smiled, thinly, almost regretfully. “That’s what they all say.”
I straightened, now hating this man with every fiber of my being. “I will fight you tooth and nail, all the way, Jude Peyton-Harris.”
He reached out once more and curled his bruised fingers around the curve of my chin. He closed his eyes and shook his head, lightly.
“You have no idea who you are fighting, Diana Delaney. They all lose. And so will you.”
Meet January
January James lives in the smallest cottage in East Sussex with her husband, daughter and imaginary cockapoo (she will get one, one day!)
Until recently, she inhabited the fast-paced, adrenalin-fuelled workplaces she writes about as a communications professional. Now she spends her days dreaming up new characters and stories and trying her best to avoid indoor soft play.
Successful business owner Ivy Chambers has no reason to doubt her love for her brilliant financier boyfriend Bodhi Monaghan—right up until the moment he disappears into the night. Crushed and abandoned, she falls into the arms of Bodhi’s handsome best friend and surfing buddy Cooper Houston—who is more than happy to keep her warm at night.
A year later, Bodhi returns unexpectedly. He’s shocked to find Ivy and Cooper engaged, and he can’t handle it.
Will Bodhi, Cooper, or Ivy come out on top (or middle…or bottom)?
How far will they be compelled by their urges? If you’ve read Ariella Talix’s #1 bestselling book Just Curious, you’ll be happy to hear a bit more about Willa, Jackson, and Casey again in this book, but reading their story first isn’t crucial for your enjoyment of this one. Suitable for adult readers only. (Psst! There’s a lot of sex and some naughty language).
Goodreads Review – “This book this book utterly surprise me! I absolutely love this book.”
Goodreads Review – “Talix is a gifted storyteller who plots the evolution of the story and the engagements and actions of her characters.”
MN Book Girl – “I love a good MMF book and this one fits the bill!”
Ariella Talix is the nom de plume of a bestselling author who lives in America’s Heartland. Her goal is to preserve the dignity of family members who would rather not be associated publicly with a woman who writes such scandalous and stimulating novels. She’s not going to stop writing them, though.
She loves her family, pets, great books, not-so-great books that still entertain, and art. Born and raised near the beaches of southern California, Ariella Talix traveled the world extensively and then found her true home in the Midwest. She has a second-degree black belt in Karate and has been a professional artist for many years. Her work is displayed in countries all over the world. A sudden brainstorm prompted the first of her novels, Make Believe, and since then the ideas just keep tumbling out like an avalanche.
When my engagement comes to an unexpected end one week before my wedding day, my best friend convinces me to go on the honeymoon alone.
Ten days in a remote, tropical location sounds like the perfect medicine for a broken heart.
Sunshine, relaxation, and mixed drinks are all that’s on the agenda, until I bump into Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous. And my agenda flies out the window.
CAL
Killing has always been easy for me, until recently. But killing people for a living isn’t a job you can just walk away from.
Agreeing to take on one more assignment, I travel halfway around the world, and that’s where I meet Sadie. She’s the hitch in my plans I never saw coming.
What began as a quick fling in paradise has turned into more, but a mountain of secrets lies between us.
With danger lurking around every corner, and people dropping like flies, how do I keep us safe long enough to solve the mystery of who’s racking up the body count and why?
Jacob Chance is a New Englander. Born and raised in Massachusetts, he still lives there today. He is a USA Today bestselling author of twenty-seven novels, writing romantic suspense, romantic comedies, and sports romance. He is also half of the male-female writing duo, Remy Blake, who write short, steamy stories with insta love/lust and a side of taboo. Jacob is a huge football fan, especially of the New England Patriots. He is also a martial artist and self-proclaimed practical joker. When not writing or working his day job, Jacob enjoys reading, hanging out at the beach, and eating as much bacon as he can.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Amazon Review – “Another outstanding addition to this series”
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Amazon Review – “Phenomenal read!!!!!”
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Sexy Siren’s Book Blog – “Loved this funny, sexy, exciting MC Story”
Jax Adler
Kaye Crew
Two paths that crossed years ago, and then their lives imploded.
Now on the opposite sides of the law, but both want the same thing: The Devil’s Rebels destroyed.
Can Kaye and Jax wade through their past to focus on the present, or will they destroy each other in the end?
The Kings want vengeance, but now so does the law.
Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Winter Travers is a devoted wife, mother, and aunt turned author who was born and raised in Wisconsin. After a brief stint in South Carolina following her heart to chase the man who is now her hubby, they retreated back up North to the changing seasons, and to the place they now call home. Winter spends her days writing happily ever afters, and her nights being a karate mom hauling her son to practices and tournaments.. She also has an addiction to anything MC related, puppies, and baking.
