Award-winning author E.M. Shue returns with another installment in the Happily Ever Alpha World, created by USA Today and New York Times best-selling author Aurora Rose Reynolds.
Ham Martinez never expected a traffic confrontation to change his life.
When a sexy little blonde cuts him off and blows him a kiss, Ham assumes it’s just a playful invitation. But the moment he looks into her eyes, everything shifts. She’s his. He doesn’t care that her sole focus is her doctoral studies. Ham is determined to prove that he’s her future and the one she can trust with her heart.
Presley Blanchard has one goal. Earn her doctorate and finally gain her father’s approval.
She also wants to avoid her cruel stepsister, who finds great joy in bullying her. But when Presley accidentally cuts off a black lifted Jeep, she apologizes with a pucker of her lips, thinking that’s the end of it. She never expects the driver to chase after her, or for him to be a tall, sexy, alpha male who won’t leave her alone. He promises to make her his priority, something she’s craved for a very long time. Giving Ham a chance and losing her heart wasn’t in her plans, but now she can’t imagine a life without him.
When Presley catches the attention of a deadly enemy, Ham will stop at nothing to protect her. As the danger surrounding Presley grows, their love will be tested by the deadly waters threatening to tear them apart. Ham and Presley will have to fight through the darkness to dive into their BOOM, no matter what stands in their way.
If you loved Until Hanna, you won’t be able to put down Until Presley.
Writer, wife, mother of three girls, grandma to two beautiful grand-daughters, doggie mom to one, and doggie grandma to five. This multi-published award-winning author likes her whiskey Irish, her chocolate dark and her hockey hard hitting. She’s an avid reader and you can find her Kindle packed full of all sub-genres of romance. When she isn’t writing action-adventure, dark-mafia, suspense, MC, and strong woman she’s spending time with her family exploring Alaska.
She’s currently writing several series and stand-alones in multiple sub-genres of romance but all are hot & steamy and action-packed.
Four of her books have won the Colorado RWA Beverley contest, Sniper’s Kiss in 2018 for Suspense, Angel’s Kiss in 2019 for Contemporary, Accidentally Noah in 2020 for Suspense, and Zeke’s Choice in 2021 for Suspense, while many others were finalists in this same contest.
E.M.’s favorite saying is don’t piss her off she’ll write you into a book and kill you off in a new and gory way.
Aurora Rose Reynolds and her husband, Sedaka Reynolds, created Boom Factory Publishing to use their experiences to expand and promote upcoming and existing indie authors.
With over five years in the industry, and millions of books sold worldwide, we know what it takes to become a successful author and we will use this knowledge to take our authors to the next level.
“As a successful hybrid author in this ever evolving industry, I know that you’re only as successful as the team that is promoting you!” – Aurora Rose Reynolds
How to Date a Prince Hayden Stone Publication date: July 15th 2025 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance
What happens when the British Crown Prince falls in love with an American man who opposes the monarchy?
Prince Auggie swears he’s no kind of dashing prince: daydreamer, private—and also secretly very gay. He’s instantly horrified when his father, reality TV addict King James, signs Auggie up for a reality TV show to promote the monarchy, where the man with the most talents wins—and to help find Auggie a bride, the very last thing Auggie wants. But duty calls.
When Auggie finds out his co-star is irritatingly gorgeous Thomas Golden, the charismatic dual American-English heir to the Golden hotel fortune, it’s another step too far. There’s at least one problem: Prince Auggie’s already recently crossed paths with Thomas Golden one disastrous night in a London club. Plus, there’s that whole second not-so-small, not-so-secret problem—the Golden family wants to get rid of the monarchy.
Once Auggie and Thomas arrive on set in the English countryside, it’s already unapologetically hate at first sight. It’s going to be a very long summer of filming…until sparks fly behind the scenes, leading them to make a searing heatwave all their own. But soon, real reality strikes, and Auggie must choose between the life he’s destined for as the future king—or dare risk everything for love.
An enemies-to-lovers, opposites-attract, feel-good gay royal rom-com.
For fans of Red, White & Royal Blue, Boyfriend Material, and The Unlikely Heir.
In my next life, I’ll be reborn as Harry Styles. Or maybe as the reincarnation of Taylor Swift. I’ll still be famous if I must, but I’ll be famous due to my talent instead of my chance birth as a royal. I’m quite sure I’m a negative ten on the talent-o-meter.
Everything else is just genetics. And training.
It’s Friday night in London, and Mayfair glitters. When I step out of the black SUV, straightening to my full height, I pause in the drizzle for the cameras on the red carpet at the charity ball. Snapping shutters echo, and a familiar blinding flash dazzles my eyes.
I give my best public smile and stop in a flattering pose, then strike another pose for my best angles like the Danish prince once taught me during a secret fling. Work it, babe, Prince Theodor coached me then as we drank spicy margaritas, which incidentally led to more spice.
More confidence, more sultry. Hand on my hip and a three-quarter turn to the cameras.
The crowd cheers their approval as I’m blinded by the lights. I wave, smile broadly, and carry on, mindful of not tripping over my own feet.
“Prince Auggie! Over here!”
“Prince Auggie—where’s Katie? I’ll be your date!”
“Prince Auggie, come back!”
Tonight, I’m shamelessly selling the image of charming Prince Auggie, future British monarch. I’d like to meet him too, to be honest, because he’s great in the press. Cool guy. From the outside, he has it together. The media and public are fascinated, so somehow, I must be doing something right. Or quite possibly, I’m doing something wrong enough that the media sticks to me waiting for my next mistake.
I’m all kitted up in an edgy mohair tux that an up-and-coming London designer sent over to me. I’m at least looking the part of the dashing prince, even if I can’t get over the idea that the dashing prince is supposed to be me.
To be fair, I do look good enough, taking after my mum—see genetics above—though I wish I loved crowds like she had. The looks balance out the panic, my friend Gav told me. He said it’s heaps of fun not knowing what I might blurt out next. For him, maybe. Meanwhile, I try to keep my mouth shut as a preventative measure in case something messy accidentally spills out.
“Prince Auggie, is it true you’re still single?”
“Prince Auggie, would you take a photo with me? It’s my birthday!”
I pause and go to the young woman at the barrier for a photo taken by her friend. The paparazzi goes wild. We both grin, and for a moment, I pretend I’m carefree. “Happy birthday,” I say, on my best behavior as she gives a small curtsy. “How do you do.”
She blushes, too tongue-tied to speak.
My father, the King, told me not to be too extra tonight, as if he can sniff out rising rebellion like the dawn breaks each day. I’m kind of horrified that he knows what being extra means. And that he’s applied being extra to me, specifically. Nothing good can come of that. Especially when I’ve been on my best behavior the last few months.
Which is why I asked the stylist at the earlier magazine shoot I’m coming from to give me a smoky-eye look for evening, after we bonded over our favorite makeup. She tousled my medium-length, light reddish-brown—blond if you’re generous during the summer—hair with product. Plus, a touch of contouring never hurt anyone. Use those cheekbones for the good of the kingdom, she told me, because it’s your royal duty to the people.
Author Bio:
More animal than mineral, Hayden Stone is a writer of fun queer fiction, especially with kissing. He currently lives in Victoria, Canada, and has previously lived in Vancouver, Canada and London, UK. He likes strong coffee and is owned by two cats. You can find out his latest news on Twitter or Instagram, or at his website: haydenstonebooks.com
Award-winning author E.M. Shue returns with another installment in the Happily Ever Alpha World, created by USA Today and New York Times best-selling author Aurora Rose Reynolds.
Ham Martinez never expected a traffic confrontation to change his life.
When a sexy little blonde cuts him off and blows him a kiss, Ham assumes it’s just a playful invitation. But the moment he looks into her eyes, everything shifts. She’s his. He doesn’t care that her sole focus is her doctoral studies. Ham is determined to prove that he’s her future and the one she can trust with her heart.
Presley Blanchard has one goal. Earn her doctorate and finally gain her father’s approval.
She also wants to avoid her cruel stepsister, who finds great joy in bullying her. But when Presley accidentally cuts off a black lifted Jeep, she apologizes with a pucker of her lips, thinking that’s the end of it. She never expects the driver to chase after her, or for him to be a tall, sexy, alpha male who won’t leave her alone. He promises to make her his priority, something she’s craved for a very long time. Giving Ham a chance and losing her heart wasn’t in her plans, but now she can’t imagine a life without him.
When Presley catches the attention of a deadly enemy, Ham will stop at nothing to protect her. As the danger surrounding Presley grows, their love will be tested by the deadly waters threatening to tear them apart. Ham and Presley will have to fight through the darkness to dive into their BOOM, no matter what stands in their way.
If you loved Until Hanna, you won’t be able to put down Until Presley.
Writer, wife, mother of three girls, grandma to two beautiful grand-daughters, doggie mom to one, and doggie grandma to five. This multi-published award-winning author likes her whiskey Irish, her chocolate dark and her hockey hard hitting. She’s an avid reader and you can find her Kindle packed full of all sub-genres of romance. When she isn’t writing action-adventure, dark-mafia, suspense, MC, and strong woman she’s spending time with her family exploring Alaska.
She’s currently writing several series and stand-alones in multiple sub-genres of romance but all are hot & steamy and action-packed.
Four of her books have won the Colorado RWA Beverley contest, Sniper’s Kiss in 2018 for Suspense, Angel’s Kiss in 2019 for Contemporary, Accidentally Noah in 2020 for Suspense, and Zeke’s Choice in 2021 for Suspense, while many others were finalists in this same contest.
E.M.’s favorite saying is don’t piss her off she’ll write you into a book and kill you off in a new and gory way.
Aurora Rose Reynolds and her husband, Sedaka Reynolds, created Boom Factory Publishing to use their experiences to expand and promote upcoming and existing indie authors.
With over five years in the industry, and millions of books sold worldwide, we know what it takes to become a successful author and we will use this knowledge to take our authors to the next level.
“As a successful hybrid author in this ever evolving industry, I know that you’re only as successful as the team that is promoting you!” – Aurora Rose Reynolds
Can love be shield, sword, and healing balm for this troubled couple?
White Oak (Heartwood 1): Mike Delaney, a sheltered nineteen year old, is hired to assist Aidan Kelly, a blind high school senior with a rainbow for every occasion. But the man who tormented Mike will stop at nothing, including murder, to ensure his silence.
Black Mahogany (Heartwood 2): When Rick Hanlon, the man who molested Mike as a teenager, escapes justice, Aidan will stop at nothing to keep his lover safe, but Mike can’t let go of his self-recriminations or share his nightmares with Aidan.
Yew (Heartwood 3): Mike and Aidan have raised a daughter together. Now they’re looking to foster a second child. But fear and prejudice are even more dangerous enemies than Hanlon, the man who molested Mike when he was a teenager.
Thorn (Heartwood 4): Hanlon is not the only threat to Mike and Aidan’s happiness. From within their marriage, old arguments and insecurities rear their ugly heads. Can Mike and Aidan’s marriage survive?
Mike gulped at his third cup of coffee. He fidgeted with the folder that held his résumé. “They’re paying nineteen thousand for the entire school year.”
His mother, over at the sink, asked, “Are you going to tell us what this interview’s for finally, Mr. I Don’t Want To Jinx It?”
“An aide position at Marisburg High.” He grabbed his cup again as another yawn threatened. God, but he needed to get more sleep.
His mother stalked to the table and grabbed both his cup and the nearly empty carafe from its place in the middle of the table. “Your hands are already shaking. You don’t need any more of this.”
Mike scratched at the narrow space between his neck and the collar of his dress shirt. He adjusted his tie. “I’m fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you go in there looking like a tweaker, no one will take you seriously.”
“A what?” Mike laughed. “Where’d you hear that word? They’re not called tweakers anymore. That must be a word you used back in the sixties.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Were you a tweaker, Mom?”
“Getting back to this teaching position…”
“What?” his father grunted from the depths of the mudroom. “You’re not qualified for that, are you, Mike? You’ve only been at the community college for the summer, and you’re taking different language classes, not how-to-teach classes.”
“Foreign language classes, John,” Mike’s mother murmured.
The older Delaney laughed. “Listen to the woman, would you? She takes one college course herself, and now she’s the professor.” He clomped two steps into the kitchen, took off his hat, and bowed to his wife. “Thank you, Molly. I appreciate the correction.” Then he turned his attention back to Mike. “Well?”
“I’d be assisting a blind student with his class work.” His jittery fingers danced on the table, and he worked to pass it off as impatient tapping on the cover of a second copy of his résumé. “My interview’s in half an hour.”
“So get going,” his father said. “You planned to take night classes this semester anyway. Make the most of this opportunity.”
Mike got up, clutching the folder. Maybe I can take a nap when I get home. He rushed out the door. Assuming I can sleep.
* * *
Ninety minutes later Mr. Callahan, superintendent of schools, Mr. Connolly, the principal, and Ms. O’Carolyn, the guidance counselor, took turns shaking his hand. Their grips were a bit awkward, Mike being left-handed, but he’d given up trying to shake the normal way. Even if that would have further dispelled the stereotypes.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Callahan said. “We don’t usually make a decision this fast, but with teacher in-services starting next week, it’s important. You’ll be expected to participate in those, of course. I’ll e-mail you a schedule.”
Mike swallowed. “Yes, sir. I’ll be there.” He almost asked when he would meet Aidan Kelly, the blind student, but that would probably be on the schedule. For now he needed to worry about teacher in-services. Whatever those were.
“If you have questions, don’t hesitate to contact any of us. We’re at your disposal. But be patient. This is a busy time of year.” The superintendent ushered Mike toward the office door. “Good luck. I hear Mr. Kelly is intelligence personified, but a little… quirky.” He chuckled. “Have a great day, Mike, and again, congratulations.”
The carpet scraped the bottoms of Mike’s shoes as he made good his escape. Other administrative offices surrounded the superintendent’s enclosed haven like deficient, two-walled boxes. Mike headed back the way he’d come, unable to take a straight path because of the random assignment of desks and file cabinets.
His heart jackhammered in his throat. He slowed his feet and flexed his hands to keep his fingers relaxed. I got the job? Really? He felt a five year old’s irrepressible grin starting and forced himself to hold his bland, polite expression.
I’ll be reporting to Marisburg High every day. Just like when I was in high school.
That thought squashed any and all urges to grin, and he rushed past the final desk, anxious to be alone in his car.
He saw the wavering shadow of a person on the other side of the outer door. He had barely enough time to get out of the way as the door flew open.
“They promised to wait.” The man, resplendent in a black suit and dark, subdued tie, shoved his way past Mike as if he didn’t see him. Despite the overcast skies, he wore dark sunglasses. “They promised to get our input,” he went on muttering, his words barely audible. He swung a long stick out in front of him like a pendulum, tapping the floor rhythmically. “Now I hear they’re holding interviews for my aide without consulting me?”
Mike escaped out the door before it closed. And before too many people could catch him staring. Not that any of the office staff seemed to be watching him. Through the door’s window, Mike watched a woman intercepting the blind man, taking his arm.
The red-haired man tore his wrist out of her grasp.
That’s a white cane, Mike thought as his logic caught up with his shock. And that must be Aidan Kelly. He’s a high school senior, which means he’s probably sixteen or seventeen, but he looks like an Irish god.
Quirky wasn’t exactly the word for him. Arrogant, maybe, or rude.
A woman brushed by Mike, opening the office door and rushing in, but he scarcely noticed.
Or hot. His gaze lingered on the man’s mildly curly locks. And if he’s got an ounce of fat along with all that muscle, I’m a — He froze. A what? What was he exactly, staring at another man?
I’m straight. End of discussion.
“At least I got the job,” he told the empty foyer.
Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.
Are you ready to dive into a world where love and vengeance
intertwine?
Rio — I thought I had my future mapped out with the Army until two men
shattered that dream, leaving me medically discharged and lost. I journeyed
west, then returned east after a call from my superior, urging me to testify
against those who hurt me. When I stepped into a biker clubhouse along the
way, I never expected to find a place I could truly call home. Rebel makes
me want to trust again. He’s charming, bold, protective, and
understanding. I started my journey as a way to escape my past. I ended up
finding a family — and possibly love.
Rebel — The moment Rio walked into the clubhouse, she had my attention.
Proud, confident, and armed, she’s a storm ready to be unleashed. When
her past comes looking for her, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to
keep her safe. Those men have made a fatal mistake. They thought they were
hunters. What they don’t know is that I’m the predator, and they
aren’t walking out of my town alive.
Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a battle worth fighting
for.
Warning: Rebel is intended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, bad
language, and violence. The story contains content some readers may find
difficult to read. There’s a guaranteed HEA, no cheating, and no
cliffhanger!
EXCERPT
I leaned against the wall near the bar, nursing my whiskey and watching the
usual Friday night chaos unfold. The Devil’s Boneyard clubhouse pulsed
with life around me — half-naked women draping themselves over patched
members, Prospects hustling drinks, the bass from the speakers vibrating
through the floorboards. Then she walked in, pushing the door open with more
force than necessary, like she needed everyone to know she wasn’t
sneaking in. The metal hinges had protested with a squeal that somehow cut
through the roar of Guns N’ Roses blasting from the speakers. For a
split second, a few heads turned — then most went back to their business.
Not mine. I kept watching.
Strawberry-blonde hair, fierce blue eyes, and a don’t-fuck-with-me
stride that parted the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea. Something electric
snapped in the air, and I knew my quiet night had just gotten a hell of a
lot more interesting.
She stood there in worn jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket that had
seen better days. Not trying to show skin like the club girls but somehow
commanding more attention. Her eyes scanned the room with military
precision, taking stock of every exit, every threat. I recognized that look.
Had worn it myself once.
The clubhouse wasn’t much to look at. Worn hardwood floors bearing
cigarette burns and knife marks that told stories of parties past. The walls
were covered in a collection of road signs, license plates, and probably a
bit too much Harley-Davidson memorabilia. The lighting was shit — dim
yellow bulbs — but it hid the stains well enough.
She wrinkled her nose, probably at the cocktail of smells — stale beer,
motor oil, leather, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of sex. Her shoulders
tensed as two hang-arounds brushed past her, but she stood her ground.
Didn’t flinch. Interesting.
Charming sat at his usual table in the corner, silver-threaded hair
catching the light as he nodded at something Havoc was saying. Even from
across the room, you could feel his presence. His years as president had
that effect. Men unconsciously straightened when he looked their way,
women’s voices dropped to deferential tones. Not out of fear — though
plenty feared him — but out of the kind of respect that can’t be
demanded, only earned.
I watched her clock him immediately. Smart girl. In a room full of
predators, she’d identified the alpha in seconds. Her eyes narrowed
slightly, assessing, calculating. But she didn’t approach. Instead,
she made her way to the bar, keeping her back to the wall, ordering
something I couldn’t hear over the music.
“Who’s the new blood?” Chaos appeared beside me, beer in
hand, voice unnecessarily loud as usual.
“Don’t know yet,” I said, not taking my eyes off her.
“But I’m about to find out.”
“She looks like she’d cut your dick off for saying hello
wrong.” He grinned, obviously considering this a challenge rather than
a warning.
“Then I better say it right.” I drained my whiskey and set the
glass down with a decisive clink.
Across the room, one of the club girls — a blonde with tits that defied
gravity and the IQ of a doorknob — was trying to chat her up. Probably
recruiting for the stable, or assessing if she would be a rival. The
strawberry blonde’s expression had gone from cautious to thunderous.
Time to intervene before something ugly happened.
I crossed the floor in long strides, noticing how several of the brothers
were now watching with idle interest. New female faces always drew
attention, especially ones that didn’t fit the typical groupie
mold.
“Tiffany,” I said to the blonde, not bothering with
pleasantries, “I think Java’s looking for you.”
She pouted, those silicone lips forming a perfect bow. “I’m
just being friendly, Rebel.”
“Be friendly elsewhere.” My tone left no room for
argument.
She huffed but retreated, her six-inch heels clicking against the hardwood.
I turned to the newcomer, close enough now to see the freckles scattered
across her face and the tension in her jaw.
“The recruitment pitch gets old fast,” I said, not bothering
with introductions yet. “You looking for someone specific, or just
lost?”
Her eyes — startlingly blue up close — locked onto mine. “Do I look
like the type that gets lost?”
Southern accent. Georgia, maybe. And an attitude I could feel from three
feet away.
I smirked. “No, you look like the type that walks into a biker
clubhouse alone on purpose. Which means you’re either crazy or have a
death wish.”
“Or I can handle myself.” Her hand shifted slightly, drawing my
attention to the slight bulge under her jacket. Carrying. Interesting.
“I don’t doubt it.” I gestured to the bartender for two
more drinks. “But even the best fighters might think twice about a
thirty-to-one ratio.”
The corner of her mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but close.
“Thirty? I counted fourteen, and half of them are too drunk to stand
straight.”
I laughed, genuinely surprised. “You military?”
Something darkened in her expression. “Was.”
The bartender slid two whiskeys toward us. I pushed one her way.
“I’m Rebel.”
She eyed the drink suspiciously. “Original.”
“Says the girl who hasn’t given her name at all.”
She picked up the glass, sniffed it, then took a small sip. Testing.
“Rio.”
“Like the city?”
“Like the river. It flows where it wants to.”
I raised my glass in acknowledgment and took a swallow, feeling the burn
hit my throat. “So what brings you to our humble establishment, Rio
who flows where she wants to?”
Her eyes flicked around the room again, lingering on a group of Prospects
playing pool. “Just passing through. Heard this was where the action
is in this shithole town.”
“And what kind of action are you looking for?” I kept my tone
neutral, but we both knew what the question implied in a place like
this.
She met my gaze head-on, challenge sparking. “Not the kind
you’re thinking.”
“You’d be surprised what I’m thinking.”
A commotion near the door drew our attention. Two Prospects escorting a
belligerent drunk outside, his protests lost in the music. Rio’s hand
had drifted back toward her concealed weapon, her body tensing for
trouble.
“Relax,” I said, stepping slightly closer. “Just the
usual Friday night housekeeping.”
“I don’t relax in places I don’t know with people I
don’t trust,” she said, but her hand dropped back to her
side.
I studied her for a moment — the way she held herself, alert but not
skittish. Dangerous but controlled. “Smart policy.”
Across the room, Charming’s gaze connected with mine, one silver
eyebrow raised in silent question. I gave a subtle nod. Nothing to worry
about. Yet.
“Your President’s watching,” Rio said without turning
around. The observation impressed me — she’d maintained awareness of
the room without being obvious about it.
“He notices everything,” I confirmed. “Especially
strangers with hidden weapons.”
About the Author
Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.
When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts
and other exciting perks.
Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress
Tropes: Single Mom; Single Dad; Baseball Romance; Blended Family; He Falls First
Release Date: May 1, 2025
Cover Design: Cover Me Darling
Illustrations: Anna Noel Books
I had a one-night stand with a gorgeous stranger, believing I’d never see him again. Except who did he turn out to be? Troy Winters, starting pitcher for the MLB and the hottest single dad to grace the planet.
What’s worse, he’s now my son’s new baseball coach.
In my defense, Troy and I had agreed to exchange fake names and occupations that fateful night in a seedy Colorado bar. One perfect night of no strings and a quick escape from my busy single mom life. . . Right?
Fast forward to a re-meet-cute that had me diving under a chair, an injury that sidelined him for a year, and now Troy is coaching my son’s team while he recovers.
His smoldering golden-hued gaze makes one thing clear: he’s not letting me disappear again.
But after a highly publicized divorce from a narcissistic pro-golfer, I’m done with the spotlight and athletes. No matter how cute their rear end looks in a uniform.
Yet Troy is relentless. Between his bond with my boy, his tenderness for his daughter, and our scorching chemistry, my walls are crumbling.
So I offer a compromise: a friends-with-benefits situation while he recovers. Once he returns to the MLB, we’ll go back to being just friends.
Simple enough, right?
Except, the more time I spend wrapped in his arms, the less simple everything becomes.
Now, with the MLB calling him back, I have a choice to make: stick to our deal and protect my heart or risk everything for the spotlight I’d vowed to avoid.
I turn toward the sound before I think better of it, and there he is–-Mr. Troy Winters, no longer wearing a brace and in all his gorgeously gorgeous glory. He’s wearing a tan henley that stretches across his shoulders like it’s holding on for dear life.
What is he doing here?
I mean, obviously, I know what he’s doing here, but why was I not alerted by someone that he was coming? Why was I not alerted that he’d become a client of ours?
Why do I smell planned deceit here from my best friend and my sister?
Troy’s gaze catches mine, holding momentarily, before mine disconnects and lands on an adorable little girl at his side, holding his hand. Her cherub cheeks seem naturally pink, and while her eyes are the same color as her father’s, her hair has various shades of auburn, copper, and maroon.
I’m just about to speak—though I have no idea what I’m about to say; I was just going to let my mouth take the lead—when I see Dad’s eyes spark, and he zeroes in on Troy like a heat-seeking missile.
“Well, hello, handsome,” he practically purrs, walking toward Troy and his daughter. “You look vaguely familiar. Are you one of my daughters’ clients?”
“Dad,” I manage, feeling my cheeks heat. “This is Troy Winters, the pitcher for the Blazers. He’s also Rome’s temporary assistant baseball coach while he recovers from his surgery.”
Dad extends his multi-ringed hand in Troy’s direction, as if he’s expecting Troy to bow and press a kiss. “Suraj Arora.” He eyes Troy’s arms appreciatively. “My boyfriend Emanuel is a huge fan of the Blazers.” My dad bends to greet the little girl, now scooting behind Troy’s leg. I don’t blame her; I’m planning another escape underneath one of the tables myself. “And who is this little darling?”
And that’s when my heart thuds against my chest once again. Troy kneels down to his daughter’s level and signs to her.
Signs!
My hands tingle with muscle memory and suddenly, I feel like I’m ten again, signing jokes to my mother while sitting next to her on the sofa.
“Can you tell him what your name is?” Troy’s fingers move with precision, and I find myself walking toward them before I even realize I’m doing it.
The little girl watches me approach and something about her tugs at my chest, begging for me to be near her—perhaps it’s her shy and angelic face, or perhaps it’s her vibrant eyes that speak louder than any spoken words could.
I drop to my knees, my hands moving on their own. “Hi,” I sign, my hands recalling how to speak fluidly, despite not doing so on a daily basis anymore.
Swati MH is a Texas raised contemporary romance author living in the Bay Area with her very own book husband and two beautiful daughters. When she’s not writing stories full of humor, heart, and heartbreak, she’s likely thinking about doing so . . . preferably while holding a glass of wine.
Genre/Tropes: Contemporary; Small Town; Single Dad; Firefighter/Paramedic Romance
Release Date: May 1, 2025
Cover Design: Jersey Girl Design
Cover Image: Wander Aguiar Photography
Kinsley
Exposed Ink is my sanctuary, where I can hide behind the needles and ink, shielding my shattered heart from further pain and loss.
Until Shane, a firefighter and single dad, threatens to unravel the carefully constructed walls I’ve built to survive.
First, he saves my life—literally—and then he turns it upside down by making me long for things I can’t have.
He says he wants to get some ink done, but I know he wants something more … something I can’t give him—me.
Shane
As a firefighter medic, I’m used to fixing physical wounds, but Kinsley’s scars run deeper.
To some, her brokenness might be perceived as a weakness, but I can see the strength buried deep.
With each passing day—and mark to my skin—I find myself falling harder for the striking beauty with the sad eyes.
She’s quickly tattooed herself on my heart, and I’m determined to be the one who shows her that love can heal even the deepest wounds.
✰✰✰✰✰ from CeeLovesBooks – “This story was such a sweet, emotional, beautiful ride about love and finding yourself after immense loss, and picking up the pieces that you thought were long shattered.”
✰✰✰✰✰ Goodreads Review – “This book was everything I could have hoped for and more.”
✰✰✰✰✰ from Amy Loves Reading Blog – “If you haven’t read anything from this author you need to start. She has such amazing talent and I always get so overwhelmed with so many feelings when I read her stories! I love this authors work and even though this was a super emotional one I couldn’t put it down!”
My Big Fat Beach Wedding Melanie Summers Publication date: April 24th 2025 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
The plan was simple: fake the wedding, save her career. Then she met the best man.
Vivian Whitlock’s social media empire is about to crumble. She’s closing in on thirty, and her fans are moving on to their ‘weddings and babies’ era. About to be dropped by her management team, she pretends she and her secret boyfriend are ready to take the plunge.
There’s just one problem: he doesn’t exist.
Enter Dominic James, a charismatic actor working at the idyllic Paradise Bay Resort. He’s got Broadway dreams and the perfect cover story. The two strike a deal—he’ll play her doting fiancé, and she’ll launch him into New York stardom.
But Vivian’s picture-perfect plan takes an unexpected turn when she moves into the beachside bungalow Dominic shares with his brother, Ben—an intense, fiercely-devoted single dad with no time for romance.
Surrounded by swaying palms, ocean breezes, and a precocious five-year-old who steals her heart, Vivian starts to wonder if she’s been chasing the wrong dream all along.
Is she about to lose everything she built—or finally find something that lasts?
My Big Fat Beach Wedding is a STAND-ALONE laugh-out-loud, banter-filled tale of two people who can’t fall in love but do anyway. It’s the perfect heartwarming, feel-good escape from the real world.
WHAT TO EXPECT:
Single Dad who would do anything for his young son
Opposites attract
Living in the Same House
World’s most adorable 5-year-old (with cute red glasses)
Loads of witty banter
A slow burn, plenty of steam, and a hint of spice
Okay, so slight problem. Dominic left for work early for a pre-show meeting, and Josephine has gone to the other side of the island for a two-day solo hiking trip up a mountain (of course she did). I agreed to go for a sunset dip in the ocean with Henry and Ben this evening, which means we’re all frolicking around playfully in the water in our swimsuits, and Mr. Not-Dad-Bod is in a pair of black trunks that are leaving very little to my imagination. And I know I shouldn’t be looking. Like, I actually do know it, okay. No one has to tell me that it’s completely inappropriate to be ogling my future BIL. But at the same time, my eyes are drinking in the sight of him right now as he gets Henry set up on a surfboard laying on his stomach and sends him back toward the shore. Ben’s arms and chest flex as he pushes the board, and I can’t seem to look away. Also, he’s laughing and smiling, and dear God, but he’s got the best smile I think I’ve ever seen. Better than Giancarlo by about ten million percent. I’m in the water up to my ankles so I can catch Henry if needed, but honestly, he doesn’t need my help. The kid is a total pro, and I’m pretty sure he’s been riding a surfboard since he could walk.
Other than us and the odd seagull, the beach is empty. The waves roll gently in toward the shore in white foamy swirls that disappear into the sand. Behind Ben, the sun is about to dip down to reach the horizon, and the only sound competing with the lapping water is that of Henry’s irresistible little giggle. He reaches the shore and I put my foot out to hold the board steady while he gets off, his life jacket clearly making the task a little more difficult. He adjusts his prescription goggles, then grins up at me. “Come on, Auntie Viv, you’ve got to try it!”
“Oh, no, you keep going. You’re having so much fun,” I tell him, picking up the board and holding it under my arm like the real surfers do.
“I get to do this every day. I want you to try it,” he says, taking my hand while we wade back out to Ben against the gentle surf.
Ben grins at me and lifts Henry up onto his hip. “Yeah, why don’t you give it a try? I bet you’ll love it.”
“Do it! Do it!” Henry chants.
Blushing a little, I say, “All right, but I’m not exactly sporty, so try not to laugh.”
Ben takes the surfboard from me with his free hand, his fingers touching mine as he does, sending a thrill right through me to my toes. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’ve laid on your stomach before, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can do this.” He holds the board in place for me while I climb on, trying my very best not to think about the fact that he’s so close to my bikini-clad bottom right now. God, I hope she looks good like this. Be perky, bottom.
No, don’t worry about that, silly beans! He’s not looking. He’s a gentleman.
I grip the board with both hands and hold on.
“You ready?” he asks in his deep voice.
“Yup,” I squeak out, even though there’s nothing scary about what I’m about to do.
“Away you go!” he says, pushing the board toward shore.
I squeal and hold on, feeling like a kid again as I zip toward the beach. When I get there, I quickly stand, then turn to Henry and Ben, who are cheering mightily as if I’ve just done something spectacular. I give them a deep bow.
“Again! Again!” Henry says as I walk back to them.
(Okay, so I’m not walking like I normally do. I may or may not be striding toward them with a little extra hitch in my hips and my shoulders back a wee bit more than normal. Bad Vivian. Bad. And yet, still doing it.)
“You know who hasn’t had a turn?” I ask Henry.
“My dad?”
“Yup! Your poor dad, right? I bet he wants a turn.” I give Ben a smile and I have to say, I don’t hate the look on his face right now. All that hip swaying might not have gone unnoticed.
Author Bio:
Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.
Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.
In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally – then she’ll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for ‘K’ Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn’t require makeup and/or nylons).
Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she’s not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something–more like just staying until they turn the lights off.
She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.
What happens when a life shrouded in memories fades away, leaving only a
faint echo of love?
Ridley — Life can change in an instant. For me, it was the day I got that
devastating call — my world crumbled when I found out my husband, Venom,
had been shot. He woke up, but the man I loved was a stranger. Then someone
gave me a great idea. Make him fall for me all over again! Venom might not
remember our past, but deep down, I know our connection is still
there.
Venom — I woke up in a hospital, no idea how I got there or what the hell
happened. The angel by my bed seems familiar and yet not. Then she tells me
she’s my wife. What the hell?
But as I spend time with Ridley, every story she shares awakens something
deep within me. Her laughter, her warmth… the taste of her
lips… every moment I spend with her ignites a spark that feels so
right. I may not remember our years together, but I know one thing for sure:
she’s mine.
Fall in love with the thrill of the ride, the heartache of forgotten
memories, and the fierce determination of a love that refuses to die.
WARNING: Reclaiming Venom is intended for readers 18+ due to adult
situations, bad language, and violence. While Reclaiming Venom can be read
as a standalone, we recommended you read Venom (A Dixie Reapers MC 1) and
Emergency Date (Swift Angels MC 2) first to better appreciate Reclaiming
Venom.
EXCERPT
Venom
I moved quickly, coming up behind Tinker. I couldn’t believe this
asshole was still alive. Pressing the barrel of my gun to his head, I made
sure I had his fucking attention. “Drop it. Now!”
Tinker froze, a string of curses spilling from his lips. Slowly, he turned
to face me, realization dawning in his eyes.
“You sneaky bastards,” he snarled.
Torch and Bull emerged from the shadows, their own weapons trained on
Tinker. The old man’s face contorted with rage. “This is all
your fault,” he spat at us. “You and your damned
club!”
Torch stepped forward. “Until you decided to stir up shit, we all
thought you were dead. Why now, Tinker? Why didn’t you just stay
gone?”
Tinker’s laugh was bitter. “You want to know why?”
His gaze darted to Justin, the President of the Swift Angels MC. “I
only found out about him a year ago. My own flesh and blood, a cop. I
watched. I waited. Hoped maybe he’d at least be dirty, something I
could work with.”
I got it. Sort of. I hadn’t been too pleased to find out my son,
Dawson, was not only a fireman, but also the VP of another club. I’d
hoped he’d follow in my footsteps. But now, I had to admit I was proud
of the man he’d become.
“Then I realized,” Tinker continued, a cruel smile twisting his
features, “that the Swift Angels had ties to you Dixie Reaper scum.
That’s when I knew it was time to make my move. All these decades,
waiting for a chance to get revenge, and it fell right into my
lap.”
“It’s over, Tinker. You’ve lost. Do you really think
you’ll get out of this alive? We may not have made sure you were dead
last time, but things are different now,” I said.
Tinker’s grin widened. “You sure about that,
Venom?”
Without warning, chaos erupted. Two men materialized from the shadows
behind Justin. Shit! Wire had said Tinker would be alone. Where the hell had
these men come from?
“Justin, down!” Logan yelled, but it was too late.
A deafening crack split the air. Justin’s body jerked, his blue eyes
wide with shock. Blood bloomed across his chest, a crimson stain spreading
rapidly. “Shit,” he muttered, his voice barely audible before
his knees buckled.
Logan appeared shocked at first, then the paramedic sprang into action. He
snatched the med bag he’d brought as a precaution and sprinted toward
Justin’s fallen form.
Two more shots went off, and pain hit me like a fucking freight train. I
stared at Tinker in confusion as I sank to the ground, everything going dark
around the edges of my vision. I could hear everything around me, even
though it felt like I was down a long tunnel, voices echoing.
“Logan! Hurry the fuck up!” Dawson’s frantic voice cut
through the chaos.
I felt something pooling beneath me and realized it was my own fucking
blood. The world got darker and darker, and I knew I was going under. Jesus
fucking Christ! I’d lived this damn long, and a snake like Tinker got
the drop on me?
Ridley… What the hell would she do without me? I didn’t want
to leave her. There was still so much I wanted to see and do with her.
Regret slammed into me, as I tried to recall if I’d told her I loved
her before we left.
“Diego!” Logan barked. “Keep pressure on Justin’s
wound. I need to check on Venom.”
I felt someone drop beside me, but I couldn’t make out any shapes
anymore.
“We need ambulances,” Logan shouted. “Two of them.
Now!”
I felt someone rip open my shirt and try to staunch the flow of blood, but
I knew it was too late. Nothing could save me now.
“Dad.” Dawson’s voice broke as someone knelt beside me.
Was it Dawson? “Dad, can you hear me?”
I heard Logan’s voice on the other side of me. “He’s lost
a lot of blood. We need to get him to the hospital immediately.”
Logan worked on packing my wounds. I wanted to tell him to save someone
else, that I’d finally come to the end of my journey, but I
couldn’t form the words. My body felt cold, and soon even the noises
around me faded to nothing.
Ridley… I’m so fucking sorry for leaving you. I’ll
always love you.
* * *
Ridley
I stared at my son in horror, seeing my husband’s blood all over him.
I wordlessly handed him a change of clothes and watched as he rushed off to
a bathroom. Jesus. He’d told me it was bad, but… there was so
much blood.
I looked over at Torch, and he came closer.
“What happened?” I asked. “There were so many of you. Was
Tinker really that hard to take down?”
Torch sighed and ran a hand over his beard. “He wasn’t alone.
Not Wire’s fault. Somewhere he picked up two helpers. While Venom had
his gun to Tinker’s head, the other two came out of nowhere. They shot
Justin first, and while our focus was on him, the other one shot
Venom.”
I pressed a hand to my chest, my knees feeling weak. “How bad? And
don’t fucking lie to me, Torch.”
“It’s bad, Ridley,” he murmured. “He nearly coded
in the ambulance. By some miracle, the paramedics were able to get him back.
They rushed him to surgery the minute we arrived. If it hadn’t been
for Logan, he’d have died before they even got there.”
Right when my knees gave out, someone caught me. I glanced up to see Viking
behind me. He hugged me tight before picking me up and carrying me over to a
chair. He gently eased me down, and I leaned forward, pressing my head to my
knees.
“This can’t be happening,” I whispered. “All these
years, and this happens now? He was supposed to be safer. He stepped down as
VP, and I thought, for sure, most of the danger was behind us.”
Torch took the spot beside me, and Savior sat on the other. We remained
silent, praying and hoping for good news. It felt like an eternity before
two doctors came out. One talked to the Swift Angels first about Justin, and
the other came to me. He faced me, his expression grim, and my heart
dropped.
“Venom has a long road to travel before he’s back on his feet.
He made it through surgery, but… we lost him. We were about to call
time of death, when his heart started beating again. He’s been moved
to recovery, but it’s been decided it would be best to place him in a
coma to help with the healing process.”
“What…” I licked my lips. “What does that
mean?”
“He’s going to sleep until his body is mostly repaired. Then
we’ll see if we can get him awake again.”
“What do you mean you’ll see?” Panic welled inside me.
“He has to wake up!”
The doctor nodded. “I understand how you feel, but his
situation… it’s not the best. For a man his age, well.
There’s a lot of trauma to his body. There’s no way of telling
when he’ll wake up.”
“Or if, right?” I asked, giving a bitter laugh.
“You’re telling me he’s alive, but I may never get the
chance to talk to him again? To see his eyes open, or hear him laugh? What
the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
I heard my voice rising but couldn’t stop it. Tears streaked my
cheek, and I felt the hysteria welling inside me. Then my son was there.
Dawson wrapped me in his arms, and I sobbed against his chest while he spoke
with the doctor.
Venom. You better come back to me! I can’t live without you.
About the Author
Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.
When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts
and other exciting perks.
Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress
Tropes: Hockey Romance; Teammates Younger Sister; Surprise Pregnancy; Cinnamon Roll Hero; One Night Stand Revenge
Release Date: March 25, 2025
Cover Design: Thunderstruck Cover Design
Knox stood across from me, anger in his eyes, his right hand in a fist ready to hit me. In that moment, as I stared at him trying to figure out what to say before he hit me, I wished I’d never walked into that little dive bar.
Actually, that wasn’t true because that was the night that changed my life forever.
That was the night I saved Knox’s little sister, Peyton, from making what I was certain was a huge mistake I’d figure she’d regret for the rest of her life.
We all had a code among the players on the team. We all looked after one another, and that included family members. So, when I saw some guy hitting on Peyton, I stepped in. I pretended to be her boyfriend to get rid of the guy who’d been hitting on her and when she turned those big hazel eyes on me things didn’t stop there. I bought her drinks, let her vent out her frustrations about the fight she’d just had with her brother and then one thing led to another, and she ended up wrapped up in my sheets.
A few months later, the memory of her and that night remains fresh in my mind and soon she is all I can think about. Thankfully, I get to see her again at the season’s end barbeque. Armed with good intentions, that is when I find out everything is about to change in not only my life but hers, including my friendship with her brother.
The guys on the team had always told me love would hit me when I least expected it, either that or I’d get a girl in trouble. I just never believed they would both happen at the same time.
S.L. Sterling was born and raised in southern Ontario. She now lives in Northern Ontario Canada and is married to her best friend and soul mate and their two dogs.
An avid reader all her life, S.L. Sterling dreamt of becoming an author. She decided to give writing a try after one of her favorite authors launched a course on how to write your novel. This course gave her the push she needed to put pen to paper and her debut novel “It Was Always You” was born.
When S.L. Sterling isn’t writing or plotting her next novel she can be found curled up with a cup of coffee, blanket and the newest romance novel from one of her favorite authors on her e-reader. Her favorite authors include Kendall Ryan, Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, Lauren Blakely, Alessandra Torre and Willow Winters.
In her spare time, she enjoys camping, hiking, sunny destinations, spending quality time with family and friends and of course reading.
HOSTED BY:
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here:
Cookie Policy
