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To New Beginnings by Corinne Mazille

    Title: To New Beginnings Author: Corinne Mazille Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: February 21, 2018       ...
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Black Belt Knockout by Winter Travers

    Title: Black Belt Knockout  Series: Powerhouse M.A. #4  Author:  Winter Travers Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance Release Date: January...
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Waiting on the Sun by Robin Hill

    Title: Waiting for the Sun Series: Waiting for the Sun #1 Author: Robin Hill Genre: Contemporary Romance Release...
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Stealing the Biker’s Heart by Piper Davenport

    Title: Stealing the Biker's Heart Series: Dogs of Fire: Savannah Chapter #2 Author: Piper Davenport Genre: MC Romance...
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Since Drew by J. Nathan

        Since Drew ---  J. Nathan  April 23rd 2015   All Andi Parker has ever wanted, all she’s...
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#Starstruck by Sariah Wilson

Title: #Starstruck (#Lovestruck, #1) Author: Sariah Wilson Genre: Contemporary Romance/ Romantic comedy Release Date: January 16, 2018 Cover Designer: Micheal...
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Ruin My Lipstick by R.B. O’Brien

    Title: Ruin My Lipstick: A Poetry Collection  Author: R.B. O'Brien Genre: Love and Erotic Poetry Release Date: January...
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Someone To Come Back To by Roisin Black

Someone To Come Back To by Roisin Black   April 1, 2016 reviewed for Jeri's Book Attic      ...
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The Spirit (Spirit Trilogy #1) by D. Nichole King

    The Spirit Spirit Trilogy #1 D. Nichole King  April 28th 2014   Carrie Reese doesn’t believe in ghosts—until she...
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Cover Reveal – Watching Mine by Alex Grayson

Title: Watching Mine Series: Consumed Series  Author: Alex Grayson Genre: Erotic Romance  Release Date: January 19, 2018  Cover Designer: Cover...
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Cover Reveal – Escaping Ryan by Ginger Ring

Title: Escaping Ryan Series: Genoa Mafia Series #2 Author: Ginger Ring Genre: Mafia Romance  Release Date: January 23, 2018 Publisher:...
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Cover Reveal – An Unexpected Romance Anthology

Title: An Unexpected Romance: A Valentine's Anthology Author: Ani Bishop, Rosie Chapel, Melody Dawn, Lucy Gage, and J.C. Hannigan Genre:...
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Sale – Armed & Dangerous Boxset by LP Dover

Series Title: Armed & Dangerous Box Set Author: L.P. Dover Genre: Romance Suspense Release Date: January 4, 2018 *~* Find...
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Forbidden Attraction by Siera London

    Title: Forbidden Attraction Series: Forbidden Series Author: Siera London Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: February 13, 2018  ...
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The Demon Dealer by Carol James Marshall

    Title: The Demon Dealer  Author: Carol James Marshall Genre: Horror Release Date: February 1, 2018       ...
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Review – To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1) by Lauren Layne

Discovering her fiance is an international con man just moments before they exchange vows devastates celebrity wedding planner Brooke Baldwin's...
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The Last Resort Motel: Room One by Gwyn McNamee

    Title: The Last Resort Motel: Room One Author: Gwyn McNamee Genre: Romance Suspense Release Date: January 11, 2018 ...
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SEX, NOT LOVE by VI Keeland

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Blindsided (The Sisters #1) by Holly Mortimer

          Blindsided The Sisters #1  Holly Mortimer June 05th 2017   Georgina I went on the blind...
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Falling for the Billionaire (One Night Stand #4) by J.S. Cooper, Helen Cooper

          Falling for the Billionaire One Night Stand #4 J.S. Cooper, Helen Cooper July 8th 2017  ...
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Sale – Armed & Dangerous Boxset by LP Dover

Series Title: Armed & Dangerous Box Set
Author: L.P. Dover
Genre: Romance Suspense
Release Date: January 4, 2018


*~* Find out more about these sexy undercover cops in their own dangerously hot, romantic suspense novels by New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover. Each book can be read as a standalone. *~*
NO LIMIT – Murder, lies, and betrayal. When Jason Avery is sent to Vegas on an undercover mission, he gets more than he’s bargained for when he meets Aylee McFadden, a headstrong FBI agent that fights him at every turn. She soon realizes there’s more to him than tattoos and a dirty mouth. Now that they’re in the game, one step closer to solving the crime. However, gambling with money isn’t what the big boys want. They want the one thing Jason’s not willing to give. 
ROPED IN – For years, Blake Evans lived for the job and let it control him. Violence was all he knew. He thought he was going to live a quiet life on his ranch in Wyoming until an old friend shows up and changes everything. He brings him Hadley Rivers, country music sensation and the one woman he can’t have. It’s his job to protect her, to keep her safe from the people who wanted to hurt her. However, there’s more to her story than he’s led to believe. 
HIGH-SIDED – Wild, reckless, and fast. That’s how Logan Chandler raced until a fatal accident on the track ruined his racing career. Now he’s one of the best FBI agents in the country. When an old friend winds up dead, he takes matters into his own hands. In order to do that, he has to go back to his past, to the one girl he thought he’d never see again, Kassidy Bennett. She’s the key to solving the crime, but bringing her in has put her in grave danger. To save her, he has to put everything on the line. It’s a race against time, a race to the death, and only one will make it to the end.



New York Times and USA Today bestselling author L. P. Dover is a southern belle living in North Carolina with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she began her literary journey she worked in periodontics, enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries.

She loves to write, but she also loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes and white water rafting, and has a passion for singing. Her two youngest fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime, usually Christmas carols.
Dover has written countless novels, including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, the Gloves Off series, the Armed & Dangerous series, the Royal Shifters series, the Society X series, the Circle of Justice series, and her standalone novel Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense, but if she got to choose a setting in which to live, it would be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.

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Sale/Free – Deep Down – Elle Aycart

FREE January 9th – 11th via Amazon

Mike Haddican is a proud small-town gym owner, a renowned karate instructor, and all-around good guy. He’s never needed much to be happy: his family, his friends, his girl. Especially his girl. But when Kyra left him seven years ago to chase her dreams, she all but destroyed him.

Contemporary dancer Kyra Brims made it big, but it cost her dearly. With her life and career in shambles, she doesn’t need a do-over, she needs a friggin’ miracle. Injured, broke, and out of options after going through hell, she’s come back to Alden, the town she swore she’d never return to and home of Mike Haddican, the man who ripped her soul to pieces, to lick her wounds and recover.

Forgetting and letting go proved impossible when they were worlds apart; now that they’re stuck together they don’t stand a chance, especially with Mike’s grandma and her partners in crime plotting, meddling and refusing to give up on them.

As the passion that never died burns out of control, so do old hurts and unresolved issues. Both have reasons to be angry and feel betrayed, but now that they’re older, are they wise enough to make things work?

“This is a bad idea, Grandma,” Mike said as he walked out of the dressing room at the community center, wearing nothing but his boxers and an intimidating scowl that, unfortunately and as usual, had no effect whatsoever on the old lady.

“Nonsense. The girls are anxiously waiting. Let’s roll,” she said as she pushed him forward and down the corridor.

Scratch bad. This was a shitty idea.

His grandmother was barely five feet tall and a hundred pounds when drenched. How she got the strength to push his big frame while he was literally dragging his feet was beyond him.

“Besides, you promised you’d do it.”

He snorted. “No, I didn’t. I promised I’d help you with your senior courses. Meaning I’d drive you around, do your shopping, and stuff like that. I didn’t agree to pose for your male-anatomy painting lessons. You know I’m too busy for this.” He’d stopped working as a foreman several years ago to run the family gym full-time with his dad, but last month Cole had taken on the renovation of the town’s library pro bono, and Mike had volunteered to help. That plus the gym and the martial-arts classes in the afternoons had taken up all his time. Fuck it if now that the library was almost ready he was going to invest whatever was left of the summer in this. “Can’t you guys use, I don’t know, a statue? Or better yet, a picture. There are plenty of books and—”

“Live human-anatomy painting, Mike,” she interrupted, emphasizing the word “live,” “and one is never too busy to help his grandmother.”

Well, it depended on how nutty the grandmother was, didn’t it?

“What about Mr. Honbacker or Mr. Stilt from bingo nights?” he asked, trying to get out if it. “I’m sure they are free and willing.”

His grandmother clicked her tongue. “The idea behind these classes is for us senior citizens to enjoy ourselves. We do know we have a foot in the grave. We have enough of a reality check every time we look in the mirror, honey. Besides, Mr. Stilt’s prostate is acting up again. He can’t stay still fifteen minutes to save his own life. And about Mr. Honbacker,” she added, lowering her voice, “Greta had a…fling with him. They are not on speaking terms. Some kinky thing he did with his false teeth, I hear.”

Oh man. There was an image he wouldn’t be able to erase from his mind even if he lived to be one hundred.

That was what he got for being nice—permanent brain damage.

“You’re a flawless specimen in the prime of your life,” she continued, reaching for his arm and squeezing his biceps appreciatively. “Handsome and fit. A perfect Michelangelo’s David.”

He turned his head to her. “You’re kidding me, right? Come on, do I look anything like Michelangelo’s David?”

She pondered his words as her gaze traveled over his bulk and tattoos, then settled on his face. “Well, your hair isn’t curly.”

He rolled his eyes. Trust her to focus on the most insignificant things.

For one, his hair was cropped so short it was barely there. And two, he was heavily tattooed, weighed around two hundred forty pounds, and a lifetime of practicing boxing and martial arts had granted him a body that had little to do with that of an effeminate boy.

“You’re a bit rougher than Michelangelo’s David,” she finally conceded, “but you’ll do nicely, I’m sure of it. The girls will be pleased.”

For the love of God.

“I’m your grandson, and you’re pimping me out. Don’t you see anything wrong with this picture?”

“Just humor us. We’re a bunch of women in our eighties. Half of us are blind; the other half won’t remember what we did today tomorrow. And you only have to pose. The girls voted for body oil to highlight your muscles, but they couldn’t agree who should help you rub it on, so I vetoed.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered as he dug his heels in.

Fucking hell.

That was what he got for going along with her wacky ideas. For not putting his foot down. Like when she decided her girls needed self-defense classes. They needed an extra edge, she’d said. Extra edge for what? What were those grandmas going to be doing? Strolling around Southie sporting colors? Considering their age, the best bet if anyone tried to rob them would be to hand over the purse. Better that than risk any injury. His grandmother hadn’t agreed, of course, and now, every Tuesday, there was a self-defense class for seniors down at the gym, where Mike was supposed to teach those charming ladies how to knock down a potential assailant without breaking any bones of their own.

“Come on, Mike, you know we’re harmless.”

Yeah, harmless his ass. He’d rather face a bloodthirsty firing squad or, better yet, the Hulk in a no-holds-barred underground fight than deal with all the guilt-tripping of the OGs—the Original Grandmas—what his grandmother and her partners in crime, Greta and Wilma, had fittingly named the messenger group they shared.

“Besides, you’ve been fooling around with too many women to count. I bet half the continental US has seen you naked. What does it matter if a bunch of grannies see you in your undies? Oh, look, I got a rhyme. Sort of. I need to remember it. For my creative-writing course. I’m compiling my memoirs.”

“Your memoirs? Why do you need creative writing for memoirs?”

She let out a soft snort. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

Next time Mr. Bowen came for a visit, Mike was so bribing him into taking her to Eternal Sun Resort in Florida. From what he’d heard, the senior community was more than adequately equipped to keep his grandmother entertained and the rest of the world out of trouble.

In the meantime, he needed to do some damage control.

“Grandma—”

Probably sensing he was about to hightail it out of there, she pulled out the big guns. “You promised, Mike. You can’t break your promises to me. For all you know, I could drop dead tomorrow, and you’d have to carry the guilt of breaking my heart for the rest of your life.”

God grant him patience.

“Oh please, you’ve been using the same I-could-drop-dead-tomorrow line to get away with whatever you wanted for the last twenty years.”

She shrugged. “I’ve just been lucky, but clearly I’m running out of time. The probability of me kicking the bucket becomes higher and higher with every passing day. You shouldn’t risk it.”

Right. She was in great shape, not only for her age but for someone ten years younger.

“A shameless blackmailer, that’s what you are,” he muttered as they approached the room, following the sound of animated chatter. “No oil. No rubbing. Heck, no touching at all. And the boxers are staying on, are we clear?” He wasn’t sure if Michelangelo’s David was a complete nude or if he had something covering his junk, but Mike had his suspicions, and no way in hell was he risking it.

She patted him condescendingly. “Of course, dear. It’s not our intention to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

Really? Thank fucking God, because he’d been nothing but damn uncomfortable since he’d set foot in the community center.

“For the record, Mike, none of us has had sex during this century, granted, but equipment-wise, I doubt you have something we haven’t seen before.”

He choked on the breath he was taking. He wouldn’t bet on that.

The second he entered the room, a perfectly heart-shaped ass clad in barely there boy shorts that left the undersides of the ass cheeks in plain view welcomed him. Well, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The girl was bent over, so he couldn’t see her face, but what he could see was very promising.

“I thought you needed a model for the male-anatomy painting class,” he whispered as he lifted his chin, greeting his grandmother’s blue-haired posse.

“No, I needed a male model for the anatomy painting class.”

She should have started with that. As an incentive if nothing else. He was still pissed he’d be spending every Wednesday posing in his damn underwear—hopefully—but at least he wouldn’t be alone in his misery and could entertain himself with eye candy.

He caught his grandmother’s gaze drifting away to the floor, a flash of unease on her face, and his joy took a nosedive.

Oh boy, why did he have a shitty feeling about this? Before he could ask anything, the owner of that glorious ass straightened, turned around, and his fucking heart jumped to his throat and stopped.

He froze.

There, standing in those sexy-like-hell shorts and a sports bra, showing off her toned, curvy, and mouthwatering body, looking surprised as all fuck—and displeased as all fuck too—was Kyra.

His Kyra.

No, not his Kyra anymore, he corrected himself.

He instinctively took a step back, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

She’d been back in Alden for a bit over a month now, and this was the closest he’d been to her.

Much closer than he wanted to be ever again.

“A word?” he growled to his grandmother while moving back to the hallway, dragging her along.

Hoping he was out of earshot, he stopped and turned to her, his jaw clenched so tight he had trouble getting any words out. “Are you crazy?”

She thought for a second. “Is that a trick question? Because I warn you my admission won’t have any legal validity, in case you’re having funny thoughts.”

He ignored her. “Kyra? Really?” He hated the raw bitterness dripping from his voice, but there was nothing he could do about it.

She lifted her shoulders. “I had nothing to do with that. I was in charge of bringing a male model. Greta is the one who got Kyra.”

Sure she had nothing to do with Kyra being in there. His grandma, Wilma, and Greta made the Three Musketeers look like total strangers.

“Not doing it. No fucking way.”

“What’s the problem? You told me you were over her.”

Sure he was over her.

Over and fucking done, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend any time around her. For one, because even now, seeing her or hearing her voice still sent a surge of pain through his chest, which, considering how fucking badly she’d crushed him all those years ago, pissed him off to no end. That, of course, he wasn’t going to explain to his grandmother.

Not that she needed any explanations to read him.

“I thought we could be mature about this,” he heard her say.

Fuck mature. He was running for the hills.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d promised Cole he would help with the library’s renovation, he would have gotten the fuck out of Alden the very first day she came back. Then again, his father couldn’t manage the gym by himself, so he was stuck.

Since her return, out of pure self-preservation, he’d become a master at avoiding her, which in a place the size of Alden was a damn feat. Posing with her for a couple of hours in a confined space, without immediate means of escape, would blow to hell and back the frail status quo he’d managed to achieve. Not to mention he would lose whatever little was left of his frigging peace of mind. He’d have nothing to do but stare at her. At those gorgeous gray eyes of hers that he, once upon a time, used to wake up to. At that bee-stung, luscious mouth he used to spend hours kissing. At that sexy hourglass body he used to love fucking.

He shook his head. “Grandma, I—”

She sighed. “I understand. If you can’t take it, you can’t take it. I’ll walk right back in and say you can’t do it. You shouldn’t feel like any less of a man for it. It’s okay your feelings are still tender, my boy,” she said, patting his chest. “Nobody will think less of you.”

He groaned in exasperation. Fantastic. Now he’d look like a fucking pussy if he backed down.

Whatever. Worse things to look like in life than a pussy, even for a born fighter like him. Not sure what exactly, but he was sure there were some.

He turned around and began walking away.

“Michael Haddican, if you leave, we have to cancel the class. The whole course, probably. If we cancel, she won’t get paid. She needs the cash. She’s in trouble, my boy. In two days—”

“Don’t want to hear it,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone harsh.

He didn’t want to hear a damn fucking word. Not a one. The sight of her and Sam was painful enough. He didn’t need a sound track to go with it, thank you very much.

He got a handful of steps more before he stopped and let out a low, pissed-off growl.

“Mike, please,” he heard his grandma say.

He slung his head forward.

Fuck. Shit. Crap.

He hated being played, but for the life of him he couldn’t walk away knowing he would be directly responsible for making Kyra’s situation more difficult than it already was. And why that mattered to him after all that had gone down, he couldn’t fathom. Well, he could; he was a moron in dire need of a lobotomy. Pronto.

After a long pause, his back still to his grandmother, he muttered, “I thought you said this was volunteer work.”

“For you it is. I’ve donated your pay to the church.”

He shook his head. He was so going to regret this.

God protect the unsuspecting soul who would spar with him in the gym later on. He was going to have so much pent-up aggression he would annihilate the poor bastard.

He turned around. “Just this once,” he said as sternly as he could muster. “You better find a substitute for next time. I don’t care if you have to make do with Mr. Honbacker and his kinky teeth or Mr. Stilt and his prostate. You either get someone else next time, or your classes will be canceled. You hear me?”

She beamed. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”

He drew in a deep breath and walked back inside.

He could do mature.

Hopefully.

The second his gaze landed on Kyra, he felt his cock stir. Jesus fucking Christ. Didn’t the little fucker have a smidgen of dignity?

Apparently not.

He should not only be lobotomized, he should be castrated too, for good measure.

Her voluptuous mane of black hair was twisted back in a knot, two hair sticks haphazardly holding it up. Thanks to her mixed Hispanic ancestry, she had sun-kissed skin, raven hair, and almond-shaped eyes. That they weren’t black but smoky gray made her even more exotic.

They stared at each other for a long second.

Man, to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

How the fuck was he going to pull this off?

“Mike,” Kyra greeted him, her voice clipped.

She wasn’t happier than he was at this moment. She stood stiff, eyeing the door as if she might bolt at any second. But he knew she wouldn’t. Like him, she’d always had a soft spot for his grandmother. Never mind how badly Kyra might need the money, she would be running out the door if this gig didn’t involve the OGs. Or maybe not. Who the fuck knew her now? Certainly not him. He wondered if he ever did.

Shaking those thoughts away, he nodded in her general direction. His cock followed suit.

Christ. He had to get the fuck out of here.

He threw a dirty glance to his grandmother, who now was shamelessly smiling. Wilma and Greta, her sisters in mischief, were smiling too.

“Let’s get cracking,” the evil woman said, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him forward. “Come stand here in front of Kyra.”

He lifted his gaze up, chanced another look at Kyra, and his dick twitched again. Oh hell. These boxers were no barrier. At all. They were going to start tenting in three…two…one.

And cue public humiliation.

Well, if his cock burst straight through his pants and gave her friends a collective heart attack, his grandmother would have no one to blame but herself. Then again, sending half the senior population in Alden to the ER would be a hell of a way to end his Wednesday. He would never live that one down.

He took in a slow breath, and reaching deep inside into the place where he kept it all locked away, he released every ounce of pain that came hand in hand with Kyra, allowing the memories to flood into his mind. And with that, he felt his dick retreating.

Good.

Now he could do this.

After a colorful array of jobs all over Europe ranging from translator to chocolatier to travel agent to sushi chef to flight dispatcher, Elle Aycart is certain of one thing and one thing only: aside from writing romances, she has abso-frigging-lutely no clue what she wants to do when she grows up. Not that it stops her from trying all sorts of crazy stuff. While she is probably now thinking of a new profession, her head never stops churning new plots for her romances. She lives currently in Barcelona, Spain, with her husband and two daughters, although who knows, in no time she could be living at the Arctic Circle in Finland, breeding reindeer.

Elle loves to hear from readers!

elleaycart@gmail.com

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Sale – Dear Life by Meghan Quinn

For a limited time only DEAR LIFE by Meghan Quinn is on sale for #99cents!!!

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Dear Life,

It’s New Years Eve and time for a resolution. Time for decision and self-discovery.

After all, isn’t that what starting over, in a new year, is all about? Forgiveness. Clean slates?

Finding beauty in heartbreak and pain, and finding yourself along the way?

We hope so.

Because we’ve immersed in the anonymously published Dear Life program, designed to help us step outside of our comfort zones and start anew. Forced to face obstacles and relinquish our demons we’ll come together–or fall apart– to prove our existence:

Hollyn: The perpetually hurt

Daisy: The sheltered and naïve

Jace: The athlete with a heart of gold

Carter: The bitter and pained dreamer

Win big or lose it all, we’re at a crossroads in our lives; four strangers meeting in the middle.

Do we have what it takes to use this one chance and start over? Or will we fall apart?


About the Author:

Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Will dance for laughs, won’t eat anything spicy because you asked, but will squeeze boobs in replace of a hug. Grew up in Southern California (Temecula, anyone? Anyone?) lived in New York (the armpit of NY, not the city) and now resides in Colorado with my wife, son, two dogs, three cats, and my multiple book boyfriends. Loves love, anything romantic, and will die if I ever meet Tom Hanks. Yay, books!

Find me on Goodreads:
Visit my website: http://authormeghanquinn.com/

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Sale – Plight by KM Golland

Title: PLIGHT
Author: K.M. Golland
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: May 29, 2017


Plight [plahyt]

Noun: a difficult, or otherwise unfortunate situation.

Verb: pledge or solemnly promise. Be engaged to be married.

I promised myself to a man. Well, technically, I promised myself to a boy. We were eight years old. Neighbours. He gave me a Cheezel, pushed it onto my finger, and asked me to marry him. 
I ate the Cheezel. 
I also said, “Yes” but that we’d have to wait until we were thirty.
It was my thirtieth birthday last week and now he’s calling in that promise. 
Seriously, Elliot Parker is insane if he thinks that an out of the blue private Facebook message stipulating the binding law of an oral contractual agreement is going to seal our twenty-two-year bullshit engagement. Insane.
I wonder if he really does look like his profile picture, though.


Falling into step beside the power-walking Yeti, I lowered my voice. “Please wait.”

“No! We need to set the record straight!”

“We will. I promise. Just not yet. Please!” I took hold of her arm and spun her toward me, securing her to my chest.

She smelled like roses and oranges. And the way her hair curled like chocolate as it fell over her shoulder, she could quite easily be mistaken for a lavish dessert.
“Elliot, let me go,” she hissed, her cheeks glowing. 

“Hear me out first.”
“No.” 
Danielle tried to pull free of my grip, but all I could do was hold her tighter and smile. 
“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that? It’s creepy.”
I ignored her and smiled wider. “Remember that time when we were standing on the rope swing at the park together?”
Recognition blazed from her brown eyes and she, too, finally smiled. “Yes.” 
“It was a bit like we are now, huh?”
She shrugged and blushed, and I liked it.
“Neither of us wanted to let go first for fear of falling off the swing.”
“That’s what you think,” she scoffed. “I wasn’t afraid of falling, Elliot.” Danielle bit her lip and tried to look over my shoulder, and all I wanted to do was take that lip into my mouth and help her nibble on it. I’d only ever tasted those lips once before, and by my very vivid memory, they tasted like she smelled.

Heat waved over my body, and my cock stirred. Shit! 

“You weren’t afraid?” I asked, bending just slightly to create less friction between us.
“Nope.”
“So why’d you hold on to me for so long?”
“Because I didn’t want you to fall.” 
I nearly laughed in her face; she was funny and still overly stubborn. She was also refusing to look at me, her eyes darting back and forth, fighting their pull toward me.

“Elliot, you need to let go of me, now. Reminiscing about the past isn’t helping us in the present.”

“You sure about that?”

Her eyes finally met mine, but only fleetingly, because they soon found my lips. I swallowed and lightly licked them for her.

“Oh no!” she objected, her tiny finger snaking its way between us and nearly poking me in the eye. “No, no, NO!”
“No what?”
She pointed to my lips. “No that.”
Just as I was about to lick them again, teasingly, because I knew she both loved and hated it, my mother called my name. Fuck, not now.
“Elliot, I need your help lifting these logs.”
Danielle snapped her head toward my mother’s squawking voice before flicking her eyes to me then back to my mother, her enthusiastic eye-tennis a good indication that she was getting ready to confess.
“Please don’t,” I begged. 
Her mouth opened, and I panicked and did what any normal, longstanding, lovesick friend who hadn’t been in this position before would do.
I kissed her. 
Hard. 

Unashamedly.

“I’m an author. I am married. I am a mother of two adorable little people. I’m a bookworm, craftworm, movieworm, and sportsworm. I’m also a self confessed shoe-aholic, tea-aholic, car-aholic, and bridge-aholic.” 

Born and raised in Melbourne, Australia, K.M. Golland is a best selling hybrid author and ranty, married mother of two with a very healthy high heel obsession.

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Plight by KM Golland

 
 
Title: PLIGHT
Author: K.M. Golland
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: May 29, 2017


 
 
 
 

 

Plight [plahyt]

 

Noun: a difficult, or otherwise unfortunate situation.

 

Verb: pledge or solemnly promise. Be engaged to be married.

 

 
I promised myself to a man. Well, technically, I promised myself to a boy. We were eight years old. Neighbours. He gave me a Cheezel, pushed it onto my finger, and asked me to marry him. 
 
I ate the Cheezel. 
 
I also said, “Yes” but that we’d have to wait until we were thirty.
 
It was my thirtieth birthday last week and now he’s calling in that promise. 
 
Seriously, Elliot Parker is insane if he thinks that an out of the blue private Facebook message stipulating the binding law of an oral contractual agreement is going to seal our twenty-two-year bullshit engagement. Insane.
 
I wonder if he really does look like his profile picture, though.

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Falling into step beside the power-walking Yeti, I lowered my voice. “Please wait.”

“No! We need to set the record straight!”

“We will. I promise. Just not yet. Please!” I took hold of her arm and spun her toward me, securing her to my chest.

She smelled like roses and oranges. And the way her hair curled like chocolate as it fell over her shoulder, she could quite easily be mistaken for a lavish dessert.
 
“Elliot, let me go,” she hissed, her cheeks glowing. 

“Hear me out first.”
 
“No.” 
 
Danielle tried to pull free of my grip, but all I could do was hold her tighter and smile. 
 
“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that? It’s creepy.”
 
I ignored her and smiled wider. “Remember that time when we were standing on the rope swing at the park together?”
 
Recognition blazed from her brown eyes and she, too, finally smiled. “Yes.” 
 
“It was a bit like we are now, huh?”
 
She shrugged and blushed, and I liked it.
 
“Neither of us wanted to let go first for fear of falling off the swing.”
 
“That’s what you think,” she scoffed. “I wasn’t afraid of falling, Elliot.” Danielle bit her lip and tried to look over my shoulder, and all I wanted to do was take that lip into my mouth and help her nibble on it. I’d only ever tasted those lips once before, and by my very vivid memory, they tasted like she smelled.

Heat waved over my body, and my cock stirred. Shit! 

“You weren’t afraid?” I asked, bending just slightly to create less friction between us.
 
“Nope.”
 
“So why’d you hold on to me for so long?”
 
“Because I didn’t want you to fall.” 
 
I nearly laughed in her face; she was funny and still overly stubborn. She was also refusing to look at me, her eyes darting back and forth, fighting their pull toward me.

“Elliot, you need to let go of me, now. Reminiscing about the past isn’t helping us in the present.”

“You sure about that?”

Her eyes finally met mine, but only fleetingly, because they soon found my lips. I swallowed and lightly licked them for her.

“Oh no!” she objected, her tiny finger snaking its way between us and nearly poking me in the eye. “No, no, NO!”
 
“No what?”
 
She pointed to my lips. “No that.”
 
Just as I was about to lick them again, teasingly, because I knew she both loved and hated it, my mother called my name. Fuck, not now.
 
“Elliot, I need your help lifting these logs.”
 
Danielle snapped her head toward my mother’s squawking voice before flicking her eyes to me then back to my mother, her enthusiastic eye-tennis a good indication that she was getting ready to confess.
 
“Please don’t,” I begged. 
 
Her mouth opened, and I panicked and did what any normal, longstanding, lovesick friend who hadn’t been in this position before would do.
 
I kissed her. 
 
Hard. 

Unashamedly.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
“I’m an author. I am married. I am a mother of two adorable little people. I’m a bookworm, craftworm, movieworm, and sportsworm. I’m also a self confessed shoe-aholic, tea-aholic, car-aholic, and bridge-aholic.” 

 

Born and raised in Melbourne, Australia, K.M. Golland is a best selling hybrid author and ranty, married mother of two with a very healthy high heel obsession.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Miora’s Song by Tawnya Lee

 
 
Title: Moira’s Song
Author: Tawnya Lee
Genre: YA/Fantasy
Release Date: October 6, 2017 
 
 

 

A mother’s love. Beautiful. Boundless. Bloody. 

 

 
A mysterious stranger destroys Moira’s precarious world with one bite, plunging her into a realm of ancient gods, witchcraft, and Celtic blood-drinkers.
 
Faced with a dark secret about her own role in an age-old vampire war, Moira must make a terrifying choice: kill her own children or usher in the apocalypse.
 
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CHAPTER ONE

 

The Turning

 


 

The tumbler, beaded with sweat, sat on the coffee table. Ice cubes, now flimsy slits of glass, floated in the amber liquid, while a moat of water rimmed the outside bottom of the glass. Moira sat in the dark, shadows from the flickering candlelight dancing across the wall toward her face. 

 


 

Moira sipped her whiskey and closed her eyes. Poco played on her stereo; the shimmering intro of “Spellbound” wrapped her like a lover, caressing the wounds of her soul. When she couldn’t face the world, when she’d rather hide, music was the friend she turned to for everything she never received from those she loved. It didn’t judge her. It provided solace. Her balm of Gilead in 2/4 tempo. It bled for her. It cried for her. It raged for her. It soothed her.

 


 

On nights like tonight, when she couldn’t sleep, she would play her music and drink her drink until she faded away into her world of dreams. Most of the time she woke not remembering those dreams. Sometimes she would wake screaming, images of a night long ago when her innocence was wrested away clawing into her psyche. Those were the nights when she wished she never had to sleep again. When sleep was her enemy and dreams her prison camp. Fear and shame were never far from her, and at times she wondered as she stepped out on the streets in daylight, if people could guess the dark secret she carried inside.

 


 

Tonight she was simply restless. An undefined energy kept her awake. The twins, Derek and Tristan, were asleep in their crib. She had only her cat and her drinks to keep her company. Eyeing the bottle of Jameson, she contemplated a refill when a panicked cry made her jump. Every hair stood on end as her stomach clenched. She raced to the nursery and stopped in the door frame, dumbstruck. A dark figure stood over the crib, casting shadows on her two sons. Tristan smiled while the stranger traced half-moons with his finger across the boy’s forehead. Derek lay beside his brother and cried.

 


 

“Get the fuck away from my kids,” Moira said through clenched teeth. Her lips pressed together; her nostrils flared.

 


 

The stranger turned slowly, eyes glittering in the dark. Moira sucked in her breath when she saw his face. He had jet black hair and pale blue eyes. His porcelain skin seemed to catch and reflect the moonlight pouring through the window. She was simultaneously repulsed by and attracted to the man. Something in the way he looked at her made him seem inhuman–he couldn’t be. The word vampire floated through her consciousness as if he put it there. But it was ridiculous. This was real life, not some horror movie. And here was a stranger with his hands on her child. She glanced around the room and looked for a weapon. She wondered how long it would take her to reach the ceramic lamp on the nightstand just inside the room. 

 


 

“I wouldn’t bother if I were you. About as useless as tits on a bull.” 

 


 

The man grinned. VAMPIRE. With each syllable he spoke, the word rattled inside her brain. Her body, electrified with fight hormones, became tense and reactive. She leapt toward the lamp, but before she could make it half-way the stranger was standing in front of her.

 


 

“Amn’t I here for you, lass? Can’t you feel it to be true? And here I am after speaking sweet nothings to your páistí. You plan to throw a lamp at me? Think it’ll stop me, do ya?” 

 


 

Moira tried to sound brave. 

 


 

“I don’t give a fuck who you came for. You need to leave.” 

 


 

She needed to control the situation. To protect her children. Her brain dropped into survival mode. She slowed down, looking for solutions, weighing all possible alternatives. The lamp, a heavy book, even her own fingernails–anything she could use to attack.

 


 

“Moira.” 

 


 

A slow, rapacious smile passed over his mouth. The hint of a sharp canine disappeared as his lips closed. He glided toward her and brushed red ringlets of hair from her face. His touch was like ice, sending shivers through her body.

 


 

“Get your hands off me, you fucker!” Moira yelled. 

 


 

She pushed his hand from her face. Raising her fists to her chin, she assumed a fighting stance. The man laughed. 

 


 

“Got a bit a spice in ya. But don’t be baring your teeth if you can’t bite.”

 


 

He grabbed her wrists as she screamed and kicked, aiming for his shins, wriggling to get away. Her boys, mirror images, bounced up and down as they hung onto the crib bars, tears coursing down their cheeks. They wailed.

 


 

Moira looked at them and tried to yank free, but the stranger’s grip was preternaturally strong. 

 


 

“Bígí ciúin,” the stranger said, his voice cold. 

 


 

She stopped. Her breath was ragged, her forehead sweaty. The stranger was calm, barely seeming to breathe at all. Derek and Tristan stood in silence, wide eyed and panting, and watched their mother.

 


 

Moira realized this man was controlling her, controlling her sons. She wanted to rail against him, to hit him, to bite him, but all she could do was stand silent, unmoving. He loosened his grip and held both her hands. She glanced at her sons in the crib. Their little faces were red. Derek’s hand covered Tristan’s. Tristan’s other fist was raised in the air, pumping, open and close, open and close, gesturing for his mother. As she watched them, she breathed in and exhaled slowly.

 


 

Her muscles relaxed.

 


 

“What do you want from me? And how do you know who we are?” 

 


 

“And haven’t I been watching you since you were a child? You were a special baby, born for a special time.” 

 


 

The stranger began tracing lines down her arm, caressing her with the back of his hand. She was frightened and repulsed, but curious, as she saw genuine affection flicker in his eyes.

 


 

“And don’t you know how special you are, Moira? You come from a long line of witches. It skipped a few generations, true, but I knew it was you. You carried the mark.” 

 


 

He traced an invisible line from her collarbone to the back of her neck and circled the strawberry birthmark that blossomed there. 

 


 

“I knew you were the one. Your mother and grandmother were utterly normal. But not you, Moira. You’re special.”

 


 

Moira blinked, wondering if the stranger was insane. Witches? Special? Mark?

 


 

“No, I’m not crazy, Moira. And you are most definitely a witch. And although you haven’t realized your full powers yet, I know for certain you’ve used them.” 

 


 

Moira wondered if she would wake up and realize she’d had too much Jameson the night before. She listened to his words, his voice soothing. A very slight Irish lilt hid beneath the timbre of his voice. Rhythmic. Enchanting. Memories, like flashes of old movies, flickered through her mind. She recalled the family friend. The one who hurt her. His body mangled. She blinked and focused on the stranger.

 


 

“You’re not plastered either, I assure you. No, I’ve been watching you since birth. I’ve been following your family for thousands of years, waiting for the one to fulfill the prophecy. That one is you, Moira. And tonight, I’m going to help you fulfill it.”

 


 

Moira glanced past him toward the window. The full moon shone through the sheer curtains. She looked back at the stranger.

 


 

He pulled her close and lowered his mouth to her neck. She saw the twins behind him. They too were entranced, watching the stranger hold their mother. They had stopped crying and were breathing in unison as they stared at their mother. She glanced towards the sheers fluttering in the breeze. A crow settled on the window pane, observing, silent.

 


 

The stranger breathed in her scent, savoring it. “Moira,” he whispered. She could feel his breath on her shoulder as he spoke her name. 

 


 

“If you’re a vampire, don’t I have to invite you in?”

 


 

“Moira, Moira, Moira.” The stranger made a tsking noise. “And don’t they only tell you that in fairy tales to make you feel safe at night? And vampire doesn’t quite define all that I am.”

 


 

He kissed her shoulder and moved his mouth slowly up to her ear, stroking her hair. Confusion swirled through her. She was lost in his scent and touch.

 


 

He bit into her neck and began to suck the blood from her vein. The longer he drank, the more Moira wanted him to drink. She grew weaker with every sip he took, yet she yearned for him to consume her. Her body craved his. She arched her back, pressed into him, and moaned. For a brief moment, she forgot about Derek and Tristan. She forgot her Jameson. She forgot about her nightmares and her shame and her guilt. She wanted him! She loved him! 

 


 

The stranger drank until she was nearly lifeless. Her skin was clammy and pearlescent white. He watched her, as he held her in his arms. Her beauty struck him. The waxy pallor of death colored her cheeks. The perfection of her lips, her eyelashes, her high cheekbones–she was exquisite.

 


 

He bit his own wrist, drawing blood, and placed it over her mouth. 

 


 

“Come on, Moira. Drink the drink of everlasting life. Partake of my blood and become mine in eternity.”

 


 

She tasted the saltiness of his blood on her tongue. Her mouth watered yet she felt too weak to move.

 


 

“You can do it. Taste it. Moira. Taste and see it is good!”

 


 

Moira opened her eyes, and looked at him. She sucked on his wrist, the blood filling her mouth. Her veins alternated ice and fire. With each drink, she became stronger. She drank harder, panting, wanting nothing more than to take him the way he had taken her.

 


 

After many minutes, he pushed her away. He breathed heavily through half-parted lips, as impassioned and aroused as she. 

 


 

“It’s time to sleep now. Oiche mhaith, mo chara.” He tapped her lightly on the head, and she slumped over, unconscious.

 


 

He placed her gently in the rocking chair beside the crib. Stroking her hair, he hummed to her softly. The crow cawed, flapped its wings, and flew back into the night. The stranger kissed each little boy on the head, and leapt through the window. Derek looked at his mother and began to cry.

 

 
 
 
 

 

Tawnya lives in Austin, Texas with her three children, dog, and cat. It feels like a zoo most of the time. While she’d like to claim to be the zookeeper, she’s pretty sure the cat is actually running the show. She worked in the IT field for over a decade before moving into the education field. She spent three years researching Irish culture, history, mythology, and even the Irish language to bring depth and realism to Moira’s world. She’s not fluent in Irish, but she can order a pint, which she claims could come in handy after a long day of dealing with hearing ‘the dog ate my homework’ and wrangling the zoo that is her home.

 


 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
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Author: Amelia Wilde 
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Legend by Kylie Stewart

 
 
Title: Resurrection
Series: Legend #3
Author: Kylie Stewart
Genre: Arthurian Legend/Fantasy Romance
Release Date: September 17, 2017 


 
 

 

“A matter of chance…” 
Avalon’s soul is whole once again, but the curse still remains. He must learn to control newfound powers in order to protect Alexandria from Mordred. But how can he protect her from a man set on destroying him completely? 

“A matter of choice …” 
Alexandria York has to make a choice—to forgive Avalon’s lies or walk away. Their bond not only flows through blood, but now runs soul deep. The choice to stay with the man she loves could cost them both dearly. 





The Legend Series 
Avalon and Alexandria vow to stand together to face Mordred. When news of Lancer’s corruption reaches Caliburn Estate, they have to move swiftly to protect Alexandria before it’s too late. 
The Knights of the Round Table begin to assemble as they prepare for war. They soon discover the war isn’t just coming for them, but the entire world. 
The story of King Arthur and The Knights of the Round Table takes a modern turn, filled with adventure, love, and betrayal.

 
 
 


 
 


ONE

Alexandria

 

September

I stared at the pile of bills and mail on the kitchen counter just waiting for me to open them. They demanded my attention away from what was truly on my mind. I picked up an envelope and slid my finger under the fold to tear it open.

“Ouch.” I stuck my finger in my mouth before investigating to see how bad the paper cut was. A small, red mark was visible. It hadn’t started bleeding yet.

I set the envelope back down with a sigh. I’d deal with these later. Right now, I had to unravel my thoughts. So much had happened in the past month.

I push open the door to my room and survey the space I used to call home. Now, it just made me claustrophobic. I supposed I would have to get used to it. The statue of Eros and Psyche was complete. It was done.

I let my hobo bag slip from my shoulder and crash to the floor.

My mind swam with confessions.

I drowned in the admissions.

My heart had crashed with the truth.

Without thinking, my fingers found the silver bands still hanging from my neck.

One night.

That was all we had.

That memory was what I had taken away from Caliburn Estate. I had to remind myself that I had been the one to walk away. At the end of it all, I chose to leave. There was a good reason for it.

I was bound.

I was ensnared.

I was contracted in blood to the man I thought I could trust.

Avalon’s confession came a week after he had risen from the dead, quite literally. A week of bliss, celebrating, and planning was ruined by Lancer’s slip of the tongue. I refused to believe it. It was so outrageous it couldn’t be true.

The truth had been what Avalon tried to tell me before I gave myself fully to him, but I had ignored his attempts. Now that I knew it, knowing the danger I was placed in, I felt used. Completely and utterly used. Everyone seemed to know my fate better than I did. Well, that was over.

If I closed my eyes and drifted long enough in the darkness, I could feel Avalon’s fingers on my skin. I could taste him on my tongue. Spice, whiskey, and mint wafted in faint wisps, teasing my nose. He still surrounded me.

That horrid day a month ago, though, tainted my memories of a man I swore would protect me against evil. He couldn’t even protect me against himself.

 

One month before …

“Lancer, what is it? I have to get back to work. Avalon is busy plotting a gala for when it is finished.” I let him lead me into a side sitting room.

His normally kind forest eyes were hard. He didn’t speak at first, which worried me. Whatever he was going to say wouldn’t be good.

“Do you know anything about a contract?” His words started very slowly, taking his time to form them in his mind before speaking.

My brows knitted. “Just the one I signed to work for Avalon. I haven’t signed anything for Mordred.” I smirked. “I’m hoping I won’t have to now that His Grace is well again.”

Lancer’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know anything more? Do you remember anything strange that happened when you signed Avalon’s contract?” He studied my face.

I didn’t like where this was going.

“What are you getting at, Lancer? Just come out with it.”

He ran fingers through his already wild brown air and grimaced.

“Has Avalon tried to tell you something? Something he said was important before you…” He made a stabbing motion with his hand.

I hesitated before giving a light laugh at the description. I ran my fingers along the back of a silken embroidered chair.

“He did actually. The night before that entire ordeal, we were talking in his room, and he tried to tell me something.” I shrugged.

A confused look crossed over Lancer’s face. His eyes tightened, and his lips pursed. I met his gaze for only a moment, guilt washing over me.

“Why didn’t he tell you?”

I jumped when he touched my hand. I shook my head, swallowing hard.

“We started arguing like we always do. He forgot.” I needed to turn this back on Lancer. He was too close to knowing what really deterred Avalon from telling me. “Why do you ask? Do you know something that I don’t?”

I played coy.

He didn’t buy it, but he nodded.

It felt like a lead weight dropped to the pit of my stomach.

“What do you know?” I took a step closer to Lancer.

His eyes detached from mine, and he sucked his teeth. “I will tell you the truth, if you tell me your truth, Alexandria.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t lie to me, Allie! I know what you and he have done! I know!” He looked toward the open door and lowered his voice. Inches from my lips, he whispered, “I know you spent the night before with Avalon in his bed. Don’t deny it.”

The hurt in his gaze at knowing my truth cut like a thousand swords. I opened my mouth to speak, but a voice in the back of my head told me not to lie to myself anymore. I bit back my worst fears and faced Lancer head on.

“I did.”

A sound erupted from his chest like a wounded animal. He backed away from me with his hand over his mouth. I stood there, waiting for the shouting to come, but it never came. All he did was hold a wooden chair and hang his head.

After a moment, he sniffed, “What am I to you, Allie? A toy? A waste? Am I not good enough?”

“NO! No, Lancer you are good enough. I …” There was no way I could fix this. “I do love you, but we are not together. You wanted space. Even when we saw each other again, you never brought it back up. Did you just take it at face value that I would fall back to being yours again?”

“Yes!” he roared, causing me to rear back. “You are mine! You and I, you and me! We are supposed to get married, have a family, grow old, and die together. I want that with you, Alexandria, so damn badly. But this … this isn’t you.”

He straightened, gripping my shoulders with a painful force. “This isn’t you because it isn’t you.” He forced his lips over mine, pulling me flush to him. “He’s done this to you.”

Too shocked to react and too dumbfound to pull away, I stood there. I stood there and listened to Lancer chant in a mantra how Avalon had spelled me. How he had blood bound me.

Wait—blood bound?

“What do you mean blood bound?” I shoved him off, and my heartbeat took off at a gallop.“What blood contract? Spells? What are you talking about, Lancer?”

Cupping my face in his hands, he looked so sorrowful, so pitiful. “When you signed that contract, you cut your finger, and you bled. That parchment was spelled. It was spelled to bind you to Avalon.”

Everything around me faded. I heard nothing. I saw nothing but that day last spring when I signed my name above Avalon’s.

That was why he had been so concerned.

That was why he looked terrified that I had bled.

I had sealed my own fate with my clumsiness.

Avalon had tried to tell me but decided to indulge in me instead.

I felt exposed and naked, and I didn’t like it.

The man I ran to when no one else was there had lied to me.

He stole my soul.

“Wh-what does that mean?” My voice was small, afraid to learn more.

“It means that if Avalon died that day instead of being resurrected, you would have lived for eternity. You would take his place wandering the Earth. You would have taken his curse.”

Those words were like nails in a coffin.

I stumbled to sit down before my legs gave out on me.

 

No.

This was all a lie.

Avalon wouldn’t do this to me.

He would never wish this on me.

 

Which was why he won.

He had to.

This was his regret.

That revelation caused me to choke on a sob.

“What the bloody hell is all the screaming for?” Avalon’s voice made my blood run cold. His footsteps came closer. I could sense his body heat. I smelled his skin.

I wanted to peel my skin off. He had been inside me. He had spilled inside me. He and I were inseparable now. And he had lied all this time.

I saw his hands reaching for me, but I swatted him away.

“Don’t touch me.”

I heard his words catch in his throat.

“Lancer, what is wrong with her?” He had no idea what I had just uncovered.

“Your lies have caught up with you, Your Grace.”

Was that satisfaction in Lancer’s eyes?

I couldn’t tell. “I have to go. Allie, should you need me, call.”

I couldn’t look up. Looking up required I see Avalon, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look into the eyes of the man I held so close to my heart. He had been winning my heart! How could he do this to us?

Avalon’s thoughts were so loud I could hear them. He still had no idea.

“Alexandria, stop this now. What the hell was he talking about? My lies? What did he say?” he demanded. It had been a while since I heard that sharpness to his voice. It made me loathe him and want him at the same time.

“You lied to me, Avalon, about something very important.”

“If I have, then please tell me. Allow me to explain.” He moved toward me in a tidal wave of power and ferocity.

God, why was he made of blood and heat?

Why did such an innocent touch illicit such desire?

“If you had died, slept for eternity, you would have left me behind.” I finally gathered the strength to look into his eyes of gray and bursting emerald. “You blood bound me, Avalon. You damned me, and you didn’t even tell me.”

The betrayal finally hit me, and tears slid down my face.

“After all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? This is how you show your love for me?” I swiped at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “You would rather have sex with me than tell me the truth. Is that it?”

His face swam with a variety of emotions before settling on one.

Regret.

I had been right.

This was his regret.

He nodded. “That is true. You are bound to me. But may I explain?”

I held up my hands.

I stood, shaking my head.

This was all too much.

“No, I don’t want your stories. I don’t want any more lies. You promised, Avalon, there would be no more lies!” Anger boiled in my blood, thickening and thinning. “You told me you loved me. You gave me our wedding bands, but you never told me the truth. Never.” I shook my head. “From day one, I’ve been an unknown pawn in your game. Your curse may be partially lifted, but mine never will!” I was screaming now. “How could you do this to me? Haven’t you done enough?”

Silence fell between us.

I could see him desperately trying to find a way to make me see, make me understand his view. I wouldn’t allow it.

“Alexandria, I have been searching for a way to rid you of it. I never wanted it!” His voice was raw with emotion. “I do love you. I love you so much, and I need you.” Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders. “My love, I need you. But I swear I have been searching every avenue to free you of this.”

“Why, Avalon?” I sobbed into his chest. “To me?” I was so tired of being pulled by extreme emotions. My mind snapped, and I ceased my tears soon after I started.

I stepped away from him. “I will complete the statue. Once I am finished, I will leave. You will find a way to lift this from me. It will be the last thing I allow you to do. Do you understand?”

I was so cold. I had to be.

His eyes swam with tears, his face crestfallen and decimated.

“Alexandria …” His voice hitched. “Are you leaving me?”

I spoke from my head, ignoring my heart completely. She would only bring me more sorrow should I follow her. “Yes.”

He was able to compose himself but just barely. His chin trembled. He pushed hands through raven hair.

Clearing his throat several times, he let me go and stepped back. “As you wish, Alexandria. Thank you …”
 
 









 
 
 
 

Kylie Stewart has been writing short stories and books all her life. A native of Hammond, New York, Kylie grew up on the St. Lawrence River dreaming of big things. She has a Master’s of Science in Equine Business from Middle Tennessee State University, which is why there are so many horses in her books. After working in the Kentucky Race Horse Industry, she moved back to Tennessee to pursue writing, audiobook narrating, and voice acting. She is a huge nerd and big into anime as well as the cosplay community.


Kylie was influenced by her Scottish heritage to become an independent British history buff. She has a small library dedicated to Tudor history and is lover of the Arthurian legends. She also has an intense love of the supernatural, theological, paranormal, and mythological worlds.

Kylie is also an Audio Book Narrator with over 50 titles under her belt and a member of the APA.

Kylie lives in Dallas, TX with her husband and fellow voice actor Eric Rolon, and their two cats, Asuka and Haru.

​”One Love”


 
 
 



 

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