Did someone say dance like no one is watching? Guess that’s the only
way Tyler CAN dance now. Slip into the pages of the fun and feisty second
book in the Rocky Mountain Romances series.
Tyler Carter has everything she dreams of—she’s the starring
ballerina in a Cirque-du-Soleil type show, a splashy Las Vegas lifestyle,
and there’s nothing tying her down. Until she injures her knee, that
is.
Tyler flees to her family in the little mountain town of Independence
Junction, Colorado, and pretends she’ll get better, until forced to realize
the truth. And forced to confront her past when she smacks right into
Patrick West, the architect restoring the historic Wilkinson house.
Their attraction quickly rekindles because of a one-night tryst they had
the summer before—one neither of them wants to admit to!
But something else gets rekindled. A stalker sets their sights on Tyler and
leaves shocking clues indicating they know exactly who Tyler is, and that
they want her dead. Will Patrick, Tyler’s brother, and a retired
police dog be able to keep Tyler safe?
The fascinating and quirky citizens of Independence Junction come back in
Book 2 of The Rocky Mountain Romances series to show how small-town
relationships can bring out the best and worst in people.
Heart-warming with a splash of Vegas glamour, Book 2 successfully combines
a new-and-old mix of family and townsfolk in a pressure-cooker plot that
never lets up on chuckles, suspense, and romance.
A Greene Family Christmas by Piper Rayne is now live!
Preparing a Christmas to remember is no small feat with a family the size of the Greenes.
Especially when the woman who has always been the planner down to every minute detail, falls ill only five days before the holiday. The family has no choice but to scramble to ensure that nothing is amiss. Cookies need to be decorated, gingerbread houses assembled and decorations to be hung. They’ll need all hands on deck, both young and old, to make this holiday happen. But of course, what would a Greene Christmas be if not chaotic with a dash of drama?
Download today on Amazon, Apple Books, Audible, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, Kobo!
Piper Rayne is a USA Today Bestselling Author duo who write “heartwarming humor with a side of sizzle” about families, whether that be blood or found. They both have e-readers full of one-clickable books, they’re married to husbands who drive them to drink, and they’re both chauffeurs to their kids. Most of all, they love hot heroes and quirky heroines who make them laugh, and they hope you do, too!
The Minotaur stirs. Evan is drugged to forget the gods’ quest.
Evan and his companions are entrapped by the Amazon Queen Antioche and her warriors. Memories and allegiances are tested. The Dark Master’s victorious revenge over the gods is almost complete. The plight of the High Priestess is precarious, her health ailing, and unable to rescue her brother and fellow Atlanteans.
The last sacred relic, secreted in the lair of the Minotaur, must be recovered or the Dark Master’s succession plans of a new god are complete. The mystical lands of Krete, the final stage of Evan’s journey, are within his grasp. He must succeed so his father, Zeus, fulfills his promise. Then there is Queen Antioche, and the precious gifts she presents him.
Will Evan return home, and what will become of his future?
Minotaur’s Lair is the third and final book in the action-packed Servant of the Gods historical fiction series. If you enjoy well-researched landscapes, historic characters, excitement, mythical creatures and unique settings, then you’ll love Luciana Cavallaro’s heroic odyssey.
• Award-winning author of The Labyrinthine Journey
• Nominated for book awards in the Action/Adventure and Historical Fiction genres
• Drove her first car at the age of three
Luciana Cavallaro’s alter ego is a high school teacher where she plugs away educating teenagers the merits of reading and ancient history. She often looks for a brick wall to bang her head when faced with disinterested looks from her students. She’s also a historical fantasy and thriller/suspense author, who creates fast-paced, action-packed series for her readers.
Born and raised in Western Australia, residing in Perth, Luciana loves to travel and since getting her passport at the ripe old age of twenty-four has toured parts of Europe, a legacy of her Italian heritage. She enjoys being active, going out with friends, reading and tries to grow her own vegetables. She dreams of travelling again and visiting the ancient sites that inspired her stories, that is when she’s not spending time being an unofficial stunt person and knocking herself out in the process.
High Impact Freya Barker
(High Mountain Trackers, #4)
Publication date: December 5th 2022
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense
Manager for Hart’s Horse Rescue, Lucy Lenoir, finally feels she has a handle on life after having worked hard to leave her old one behind. So hard, there are times she almost forgets what she escaped. Memories which suddenly come flooding back when she catches a glimpse of a familiar horseman in town.
What’s worse, he’s in the company of the unlikely cowboy she’s only just beginning to trust.
High Mountain Tracker, Bo Rivera, tries hard never to repeat his mistakes. A huge one changed the course of his life and made him particularly cautious, especially around women. So much so, he almost passed up on the best thing to ever walk into his life; the compact, blonde ballbuster in need of a gentle hand.
However, the more he learns about her, the more he realizes a soft touch alone won’t keep her demons at bay. Those will need a firmer hand…to keep the gun steady.
USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
With forty-plus books already published, she continues to create characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy.
Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We’ve Read All Year Award for “Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, and Finalist for the 2020 Kindle Book Award with “When Hope Ends”, Freya spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
Coraline Patten enjoys nothing more than facing new challenges, but when she’s asked to evaluate Moonriver’s ruling faction, she worries she’s bitten off more than she can chew.
Allasandro Stephans has reigned since she’d been a child, unwavering in his dedication to Moonriver. His heir, Calden, has supported him every step of the way. Together, the shapeshifting widower and his son appear to be the perfect men for the job of preserving and protecting their home.
When Moonriver’s heir asks her to free his father from the burden of leadership, Coraline is determined to do what is best for her people, even if it costs her the love of her life.
Sila snickered. “With that comment, you just guaranteed your selection. That is what normal people call testing their luck. Have you worked for the Hunters before?”
“No.” With Sila, short and to the point worked the best. If I gave her a single opening, she would talk me to death and force me to regret my decision to be her friend.
Sila meant well, however, even when she drove me mad.
My friend rubbed her hands together. “They’re pretty nice to work for. While most of them are predatory shifters, they’re respectful of time and energy. It helps they can smell fatigue and frustration, and they understand a happy worker is a better worker. They stop problems before they become problems as a general rule. The male temps get the short straw—they get into pissing contests with the Hunters. Us women? We already know how to avoid the pissing contests. We win when we don’t play the game.”
When Sita started spouting sexist nonsense, it often sourced from a bad night with her latest suitor. “Did you have a bad date last night?”
“It was horrible. Who knew a Legacy researcher could be so clueless? I educated him, but there won’t be a second date. He was so dry I thought about asking him to do my laundry.”
The few times I’d dated a Legacy member, I’d emerged better educated but lacking in the basic relationship department. Members of Legacy lived for the pursuit of old knowledge. Intellectual company appealed, but I also longed for the other facets of a good relationship, including physical affection, sweet nothings, and someone I could be near in safety and comfort.
Still, Legacy members could be taught, and I’d met more than a few who were kind to a fault but oblivious. “Maybe you should give him a second try, Sila. You bothered to educate him. Why not benefit from your tutoring. Is he nice?”
“He is disturbingly nice,” she complained.
Well, some problems had simple solutions. “Teach him to get a little rough with you, then.”
“I might. He texted me this morning. I replied that I was getting my work assignment. You think I should try him again?”
“He’s nice and can be taught, Sila. Find out if he cooks and cleans. If so, he might be the perfect man.”
“You make a good point.” Sila sighed, dug out her phone, and tapped at the screen. “There. I told him that, assignment allowing, I’m free most nights this week if he’d like to get together. This might be for the best. I was about to hit up someone from Moonward.”
I winced. Of Moonriver’s factions, Moonward attracted the most ambitious men and women with an interest in magic. Witches made up most of the membership, but they accepted all types. “Dangerous dates are not wise, Sila.”
“I’m looking for love. That is dangerous.”
No kidding. Before I could reply, our manager rang his little silver bell so he could deliver the news—and reveal who would assist the Hunters. “I’ll keep this as short as possible, as we have a busy day. I already drew the name for the Hunter contract while you gossips talked up a storm.”
When Almon Friarin went the route of serious efficiency, we had a higher number of requests than normal.
“Today is going to be fun,” Sila predicted.
I huffed and refrained from cursing. “Sure. It’s going to be about as fun as a lobotomy.”
Before I could further embarrass myself, our boss said, “Line up for your assignment. You’ll just have to accept I won’t be turning our job into a circus today. Maybe tomorrow. The Hunters of Moonriver have asked for discretion.”
“Well, this sucks,” Sila muttered. “He lured us all here so nobody would skip out on a crazy day.”
“You’re probably right.” My fellow co-workers queued up to receive their assignments, and I joined the line, dragging Sila with me. “Be grateful it’s not a parade. Or worse, a positive reinforcement day.”
“Good point. There is only so much public praise I can handle a year. A ten-minute lecture on how good I am at following basic instructions would break me today.” Sila made a show of shuddering. “Last time, one of the clients had sent him a photo of my work along with praise. I almost perished.”
I knew of one way to derail my friend before she delved deeper into the dark waters of her self-inflicted stress. “Did you get a raise?”
“Ten cents an hour for accomplishing perfection.”
Well, that backfired in a painful fashion. “I’ve never gotten a raise for perfection,” I informed her.
“I asked for it. Did you?”
The next time I got pulled into our boss’s office, I would make a point of asking. “Did the ten cents an hour actually help your budget?”
One of the distinct disadvantages of remaining unaffiliated was our pay; the factions made a point of paying their members competitive rates for their work. Migrant workers made up the majority of the unaffiliated, although holdouts like me existed.
I accepted lower pay and less say in the governing of Moonriver in exchange for flexibility and freedom.
“Every penny counts, except when it doesn’t.” Sila shrugged.
Author Bio:
Audrey Greene writes sweet paranormal and urban fantasy splashed with some romance and hints of science fiction. She lives in California, loves going to the beach, and appreciates taking the time to smell the roses.
A three-letter word made me a murderess at the age of eight years. But having experienced the curses of that word, I was done with men as I grew up. All men. Except to outplay them in the New York financial arena. Then Crowned Sex enthroned in gorgeous velvet charm and lustful gallantry storms into my life. Spewing volcanic lava on my monumental arctic ice block. With the unapologetic fierceness of a savage god. Wearing crackling thunderbolts straight from the god Zeus. Explosive has nothing on it.
Adrian isn’t hot, he’s fucking hellish. He embarks on melting my ice block at the speed of lightning. But I was done with men. I was done with sex. For ever. I. Was.
ADRIAN
I scented her darkness from the moment I was told about her. The sight of her sealed my decision. She was the woman created for my own darkness. I set off to protect her even from herself. Protect her to claim.
Fuse her darkness with my own. For. Myself. I’d fended women off me with bazookas when I was done but they weren’t. I wasn’t prepared for the battle I soon fought. Not only with her but also with her family. And New York’s billionaire gangsters who own entourages of corrupt cops and politicians. With every battle I won, she started new darker wars around me. You ate or you were eaten. Not even starving was an option.
NOTE: Although the blurb is in the first person, the story of Leo and Adrian is written in the third person. This story contains adult material including explicit sex and violence. You’ve been warned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
He caught both her flying arms, used her momentum to spin her around onto her back on the couch and landed over her.
Smack bang between her legs.
Pinned her hands above her head and every f****** struggle she tried only forced her to rub against his hard body.
Furious, her thighs tensed but with nowhere to go except around his hips. He planned this. She f****** bet he planned this to the last minute detail.
“You double-faced bastard, get off me!”
“No. You put yourself here. Right here under me, Leo.”
“Get the f*** off m—”
He slammed his crotch right against hers and ground in.
She screamed as some unknown force kindled her center and the sensation rushed simultaneously south to her soles and north to her scalp.
She stiffened, trembling. Then whimpered. Then—
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GUEST POST:
Behind the Scenes with Adrian Cranford
The maître d’ ushered her into the enclosed niche at Park Chinois restaurant in Mayfair, and the earth juddered as I got up and buttoned my blazer to offer her my hand.
“Ms Boswell, Mr Cranford,” the maître d’ said and the trillion dollar quaking literally thrust him out.
Leontine Nigella Boswell in the flesh. Her mesmerizing turquoise eyes that I’d traced countless times with my fingers on her stunning images now munched my mouth with an intensity that forced me to lick my lips. As if I readied myself to eat her. My own eyes tore off hers and descended on her fuck-me mouth with another planetary jolt that glued them together.
“Don’t expect anything from me that’ll adequately answer the way you’re looking at me, Adrian Xerxes Cranford.”
Those were the first words she spoke to me. In a voice that made think of taking arms and adorning my military commander uniform to go to war for her. All my adult life I’d fought off women with bazookas when I was done but they weren’t. Now I was ready to go to war for an Adrian goddess I’d worshipped for ever without her proximity.
Bugger me, I thought as her hand left mine, here is magnificent womanhood cloaked in black marble. I felt her darkness claw out of the marble, absorb me and grab inside the even darker abyss within me. Then take root and blossom like a magical flower creating itself for the first time in life’s universe. That darkness slithered into my own darkness and instantly mated. By the time she sat on the chair I held out for her, I knew she was the woman created for my own darkness.
“Give me the inadequate answer, then, Ms Boswell,” I said settling down in my chair opposite her.
“Your uncle, Sir Gordon—”
“Who happens to be your lawyer,” I said to stop that mouth moving for a moment before its movements ruined me. A mistake. Because the planet hadn’t regained its balance yet and forced a gasp from her as she fought not to squirm, her eyes back on my mouth, devouring it.
Watching our mouths in motion was obviously an issue to both of us.
“Yes. He organized this dinner so you can coach me with regard to the City of London. So how many top investors do you know in the World’s Richest Square Mile?”
With every word she spoke, my magical flower opened to full bloom absorbing the blackness in my abyss. Miraculous in its capability to reflect it back. She filled up my inner sight completely with her dazzling darkness. She couldn’t look away, I couldn’t look away, both of our gazes held and locked like two forces with opposing magnets in a tag of war that would never end. Not ever.
“Are you uncomfortable, Leo?” Projection. Fuck, I was uncomfortable and didn’t know where to bloody take it but throw it back at her.
“What?” Her effort to stop our juddering planet brought her eyes back to my mouth. The same omnipotent power slammed my eyes on her mouth.
“That’s not an answer. It’s at best avoidance and therefore an insult to both of us. Since when do you skirt around challenging situations?”
“Fuck you, Mr Cranford.”
“As long as it’s you, Leo, any time.” In my mind’s eye, as I stared at her mouth, I saw her eagerly open it wide for me to fuck it raw and come deep down her throat.
She was too intense to treat this as a quip. I watched her energy whip itself into a coiled tornado speeding towards me, intent on turning me into dust and blowing me off the face of the planet.
“Are you ready for the aperitifs?” the maître d’ asked, back just in time to save my arse. I’d have preferred to have her blow it to hell just to feel that untameable fury of hers on me.
That first close encounter with the goddess I’d worshipped before clapping my eyes on is forever etched in my memory.
To this day, Leo and I are titanic fire and ice. We burn and freeze each other. We destroy and reconstruct each other. We kill and resurrect each other. We fuck like primal beasts and love like demonic gods. In every mood, location or situation, we’re too extraordinary to ever be normal. We’re irreparably damaged. Our story continues to be written.
Adrian set off to protect Leo even from herself. Protect her to claim. Fuse her darkness with his. I feel totally Adrian. I don’t want whatever Leo and I are to be any other way but as is. Neither do I want our story to end although I know it has to, one day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
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AP von K’Ory writes the kind of books she herself would like to read and is passionate about, whether romance, psychological thriller or nonfiction. She is the winner of six awards from four continents, the last one being the Achievers Award for Writer of the Year 2013 in the Netherlands. The Selmere Integration Prize was awarded her in 2014 for her engagement in helping African Women in the Diaspora cope with a variety of domestic and social problems. The Proposal, a short story, won the Cook Communications first prize in 2010 and is published in an American anthology Africa 2012. In 2012, she won the Karl Ziegler Prize for her commitment to bring African culture to Western society in various papers, theses, and lectures. Again in 2012, her book Bound to Tradition: The Dream was nominated for the 2012 Caine Prize by the Author-me Group, Sanford, and in 2013 she was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers Prize.
Von K’Ory is married to an aristocrat and politician of Franco-German descent, has a large extended family. She lectures Economics and Sociology in Austria, Germany and Switzerland. She’s migratory and – weather willing – lives in Germany, France, Cyprus, and Greece.
It would be lovely if you could Like the book page and read the latest interviews and news about Shana and Roman on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/Goshanaliterotic
It would be equally wonderful if you could Like my Author page and read more about Shana and Roman new releases, cover reveals and what I’m up to lately on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAPVonKOry
Resting Grinch Face Alina Jacobs
Publication date: November 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance
I might not be able to ruin his life, but I will ruin his Christmas.
Yeah, I’m totally a grinch. But I come by it honestly.
Because of Oliver Frost, I flamed out at Harvard in the most humiliating way possible.
Now I’m back in my small town—just in time to suffer through a display of small-town Christmas cheer so festive it will make you puke your eggnog. But who cares about being home for the holidays when you live with your family like a loser and have to share one bathroom with seven other people?
I plan to spend my Christmas purgatory being tsked at by elderly residents and passive aggressively prodded by my mom’s friends about what I plan to do with my life.
I don’t know, Deborah, work in the Christmas market and get screamed at by tourists because I didn’t put enough sprinkles on their little brats’ coffees? Seriously, who gives five-year-olds that much caffeine anyway?!
See? Like I said. A grinch.
I hate Christmas.
I set a nativity scene on fire.
Got in a fistfight with an elf—I lost, by the way.
And threw a vat of Snowman Surprise all over Oliver. Don’t ask. Small-town Christmas insanity. Sleigh what? Oliver is here???
The man who humiliated me and ruined my life?
Ho ho ho, fuck no.
He doesn’t deserve a quaint small-town Christmas.
He doesn’t deserve a fancy Christmas tree from my family’s farm.
And he certainly does not deserve to win a bottle of whiskey in the daily Christmas market raffle.
Goddamn, I needed that drink.
He should be haunted like Ebenezer Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Past. Or at least the Ghost of Hookups Past.
Momma’s gonna have herself a very merry Christmas revenge.
Swapping the salt and sugar so his Christmas cookies are ruined? Be still, my shriveled little heart.
Spying on him so I can gather recon to ruin his holidate? Damn, I forgot how ripped his chest was.
Sneaking down his chimney to steal all the presents under his tree? Amateur hour.
Until I get caught…
Guess I’m spending Christmas in jail.
But when he sees I’m not wearing a bra under my ugly Christmas sweater, Oliver smiles like Santa has come early.
Crap! I knew I should have worn my good underwear.
Hold on to your stockings because the eggnog is spicy and mostly booze. This is a fuck-second-chances, Santa-stalker, holiday-revenge romantic comedy. Featuring Christmas-hating heroines with poor decision-making skills, ripped guys who will leave a very large package under your tree, and adorable corgis dressed up as reindeer, this standalone book has a happily ever after, guaranteed!
I slid like a squirrel straddling the roof peak, scooting along the ridgeline to the massive brick fireplace. I pried the round ceramic top off and stuck my head inside.
The Victorians liked their fireplaces.
While my parents’ wood-burning fire was more of a stovepipe, this house had been built to hold a massive fire.
I swung my feet over and shimmied into the chimney. Below me, Max must have figured out what was up because he was barking, the noise echoing up the chimney shaft.
“Dang, I can’t believe I fit,” I marveled. The cold air whipped my face, and I had a moment of clarity.
“Maybe this was a bridge too far,” I said and tried to hoist myself back up.
The chimney rim was slick with ice. My hand slipped. Then I fell down into the sooty black tube.
I stopped abruptly, my teeth knocking together.
“Help,” I squeaked.
I was stuck in the chimney, my arms wedged up above my head. Every time I let out a breath I slid farther down. My skirt was wedged under my boobs, and my sweater was wrapped around my head and neck.
“Help!” I rasped, kicking my legs. “Max, get help.”
The dog’s frantic barking changed to excited yips.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around my soot-covered thighs.
In any other scenario, I would have been really put out that Oliver was finally touching me only after I had flaked on working out the past year and developed a layer of winter flab. But I just wanted to be free. It was difficult to breathe.
“Save me,” I forced myself to whisper.
“Shit,” Oliver said, giving a solid tug on my legs.
I wedged down farther.
“I think you’re stuck in there.” His hands disappeared.
“Don’t leave me,” I begged.
His hand was back, his thumb stroking me reassuringly on my ankle.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to call the fire department. We’ll probably have to dismantle the chimney. I’m sure my neighbors will complain to me about it.” I heard the eye roll in his voice. Then his phone emitted beeps.
I kicked my feet. “Don’t you dare, Oliver Frost. Don’t you dare call the fire department. My mother will find out. I’ll be the talk of the town for years. Decades. It will be on my tombstone.”
“I can’t leave you here,” he said, voice echoing up the shaft.
“Oh, yes you can. I insist. I’ll be dead and done rotting in about three weeks. Then we can all just pretend this never happened.”
“Are you insane?”
Oh God. I had a horrible thought.
He can probably see straight up my crotch.
Was I wearing my nice underwear? Did I even own any sufficiently nice underwear?
“Please,” I begged. “My life is shit. Please just try pulling me out one more time?”
“I’m afraid to make you more stuck. Embarrassment won’t kill you.”
“It literally will,” I shrieked with my remaining breath.
Oliver muttered something that sounded like “God save me from this woman.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, moving the logs and the metal grate out of the way. “I’m giving this one shot. Then we’re going to host the fire department for the second time in as many days.”
After a rustling of fabric, his large hands slid up my bare legs.
“Sorry for manhandling you like this.”
His bare arms circled my waist, and I squawked as he wrapped them around my bare torso, connecting my body with his.
I could feel his bare chest against my thighs.
His head was somewhere in crotch vicinity, and he squeezed me tight.
Maybe I could just tell him to eat me out and then die happy.
Oliver gave a sharp hard tug. My sweater slipped up.
He adjusted his grasp and pulled, grunting hard.
“I think I’m moving,” I called.
He gave one more strong tug. My sweater ripped, and then I was free, tumbling down in a heap of ash and yarn on top of him.
He was covered in black soot. It was all over his pale skin, turning his hair a dark gray and making his eyes a startlingly bright blue.
“See,” I said, spreading my arms. “I knew you could do it. And you wanted to call the fire department.”
He didn’t say a word. He was staring at me, or more specifically my boobs.
I looked down.
“Elf balls.”
Author Bio:
If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I’m your girl!
Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…
Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!
In September 2001, Tris Miles faces difficult choices. As Chief Pilot of
Westin Charter Company, she’s mentoring Jannat, a brash young captain
with limitless potential and a shocking secret. An offer to summit the peak
of the pilot pyramid entices Tris to quit her job, but an old nemesis stands
in her way.
Meanwhile, Tris juggles the men in her personal life. A
friend-with-benefits pushes for commitment. An ex-boyfriend returns, still
in love with her. Unexpectedly, Tris develops new feelings for someone who
is already dear to her.
On September 11th, Tris and her crew depart Edinburgh for the United
States. Just feet off the ground, they are mysteriously ordered back to the
airport where they learn of a deadly terrorist attack on U.S.
soil—using airplanes as bombs.
When Tris discovers that her best friend was a passenger on one of the
planes that crashed into the World Trade Center, her world is
shattered.
With a broken heart and her entire life up in the air, Tris doesn’t
know where to turn. Can she find the courage to navigate her way home?
About the Author
Robin D. “R.D.” Kardon is a native New Yorker, educated in the
New York City Public school system. She attended New York University where
she earned a B.A. in Journalism and Sociology, magna cum laude, and was a
member of Phi Beta Kappa. Robin graduated with a J.D. from the American
University, Washington College of Law.
After ten years as a litigator, Robin began her professional flying career.
She holds an FAA Airline Transport Pilot certificate with three captain
qualifications and has flown all over the world in everything from
single-engine Cessnas to the Boeing 737.
She currently resides in San Diego where she volunteers with local animal
rescue organizations and dotes on her beloved rescue pets.
Bain met Diana, a.k.a. Luce, the night before he was set to deploy to Afghanistan.
It’s not every day that you take your brother’s girlfriend to prom because he refuses to put out the effort.
That night was one of the best nights of his life and the next day, he leaves and doesn’t see her again.
But there are letters. Not many, but enough for them to form a connection.
Over the two-year deployment, they became great friends.
The best of friends—at least, as good of friends as you can be when it’s your brother’s wife.
Fast-forward six years and she still counts him as one of her greatest friends. Even going as far as to stick by him when he’s sent to prison because his own brother turned on him.
***
Luce had a crush on her then-boyfriend’s brother since way before she and Bain’s brother were married. From the moment he volunteered to take her to prom, she’d fallen.
Over the years, she’d tried to hide it. Tried to go on with her life and act like she loved her husband and only her husband. But as time went on and Braxton started to treat her more and more like crap, she realized the truth. Her husband wasn’t Bain. Her husband would never be him.
Hell, that’d been proven time and time again.
The smoking gun, though? The thing that made her realize it was time to leave?
When her husband stood by while she was assaulted, while the man she tried to act like was just a friend protected her. Then was sentenced to eight years in jail for it.
It was time to admit the truth.
Bain McDempsey was it for her. She just had to help him see it. Oh, and get him out of prison first.
BOOK REVIEW – 5 stars
Luce & Bain are the perfect couple!
Looking for a book with a military hero who’d go to jail if it meant keeping his woman safe?
Or a book with a determined, self-sufficient woman who goes after what she wants?
Need something with drama, action, and a psycho villain?
Well… that is definitely Good Trouble! Bain is this super big teddy bear – with fangs. He’s sweet and caring when it comes to his parents and his woman. Anyone who dares to hurt those he loves better have their affairs in order. Sure, that makes him like pretty much every romance hero out there, but isn’t that what we love about these books? The imperfectly perfect her?
Luce has her own issues, not to mention an ex-husband who is quite the piece of work! But Bain brings out her best qualities and loves her exactly as she is. She’s tough when she needs to be. Brave. Fierce. And loyal. Honestly, I think she’s now my favorite LLV heroine. She’s amazing.
I’d planned to start this book, then set it aside so I could actually sleep. I should have known better. Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. Lani Lynn Vale has done it yet again. Seriously. This book is all kinds of amazing.
*Disclaimer: I received an ARC and am voluntarily leaving a review.
James Thomas is content. His private security firm is thriving, he’s enjoying his role as head of the CIA, and he’s happily married to the woman he loves more than life itself. But just when everything is going right, she resurfaces…
Black Widow.
Five long years he searched for her. When the CIA told him she was dead—killed in an explosion he’d caused—he had given up the search. But now a photograph sits on his desk. A photograph taken one block from his house.
Brooke Sivendra is a best-selling author of more than eighteen romantic suspense novels. She wrote her debut novel in 2015, after walking away from a career in Nuclear Medicine.
Instead of spending her days working in hospitals, Brooke spends them creating heart-racing stories of bad boys with good intentions. Readers say her books are like, ‘Jason Bourne for women.’
