Jess moves to Maui anticipating a world of beaches, boys and bikinis. Romance with a passionate local and the discovery that her presence puts his family at risk? Not in the tourist brochure.
Her mother is having a baby with a man who is not her father, and her best friend has been secretly dating her boyfriend. Seventeen-year-old Jess Kennedy desperately needs a new life.
When her father accepts a job offer in Maui, Jess feels like this could be the fresh start she craves. The island’s beauty and charm provide a stark contrast to her home back in Canada. But the elite social hierarchy of Maui Gardens Charter School proves to be a thorny world to navigate.
Then in swoops Kai Kamealoha, a surf-loving Maui local with a fierce loyalty to his family and a passion for preserving his home’s natural beauty. Kai shows Jess that Maui is much more than the sun, surf and sand of tourism brochures, and he introduces her to an authentic look at Hawaiian life.
Jess can’t help but fall in love with Maui—and maybe with Kai Kamealoha as well. So, when she discovers that a real estate developer is forcing Kai’s family to sell their ancestral farm, she’s determined to help him find a way to save it. But digging deeper exposes a duplicity within her own family. Her presence there may be putting Kai’s family in jeopardy. Leaving the island for good may be her only option.
Reader advisory: This book contains mention of divorce, infidelity, racism by a secondary character, and a brief scene of sexual assault.
Excerpt
The garlic from Dad’s Caesar salad clings to my breath and burns my eyes as I hide away under this stifling blanket.
Crap. I should’ve brushed my teeth. Why didn’t I think about brushing my teeth?
I rack my brain trying to remember where I might have put a pack of gum or a Tic Tac, or God, even one of those disgusting cough drops. But my mind comes up blank.
My chest burns, forcing me to do some of those short, panicky breaths dogs do when they first show up at the vet. It’s been forever since I’ve taken a fresh breath of air. All I want to do is toss these suffocating blankets off me and smooth the frizzy mane my hair has become. But I’m paralyzed, terrified someone will barge in without knocking and my nightly rendezvous with Marcus won’t be able to continue.
In one desperate move, I pop my face out of the covers and gulp in air like it’s water from an oasis.
Sweet, sweet oxygen!
My brain starts functioning again and has a chance to fantasize about what’s about to take place. How thrilling it’s going to be to see his face again…to kiss those lips, press my body against his. The deceit… The sneaking out… I’m not going to lie. It makes this all feel so…so…badass. And lately, well lately, I’ve enjoyed a bit of badass.
As if he knows right this second that I’m thinking about him, there’s a buzz in the pocket of my jeans, and it sends a deeper buzz through the rest of my body.
Without rustling the covers, I carefully slide my hand under my butt and pry my phone out without allowing my bed to creak and groan. The screen lights up and buzzes again, making me smile with what’s written. It’s from Marcus.
You coming? I’m already here. Can’t wait to see you. Brought a little treat for us too.
He sends an emoji of two people kissing, followed by a leaf emoji. Meaning he’s brought a joint, but I giggle because it looks like he’s brought us a salad. Is there a weed emoji? Probably better he didn’t use that anyway, just in case Mom and Dad ever creep on my phone. No one can get in trouble for sneaking out to eat a salad.
I expertly navigate the screen with my thumb as I text him back underneath the covers.
Yeah, I think they’re both asleep. Coming now. Can’t wait to see you too—and eat salad with you lol.
In one swift movement, I throw the covers off and roll over to sit up. As I stand, I reach around to return my phone to the back pocket of my jeans, but it slips through my hand and lands with a crash on the hardwood floor.
Shit.
I’m not sure whether it’s loud enough for my parents to hear. I still my body and hold my breath one more time, listening for any sign of footsteps through the hall.
I’m sleepwalking. That’s what I’ll tell them. Yeah, if they ask, I’ll just mumble something incoherent about algebra, then wander back to bed, pretending not to remember in the morning. I might have a tough time explaining why I’m sleeping in jeans and a T-shirt, but whatever. It’s not like I can get in trouble for sleepwalking. I mean, how could I get in trouble for something I don’t even remember?
I wait for a few more seconds, then exhale a slow and relieved breath, because all is silent other than the faint sh…sh…sh…of my dad’s CPAP machine in the other room. Alleluia for sleep apnea! It has made this whole sneaking out thing way easier. The only downside is that Mom has recently made the spare bedroom on the main floor her own personal refuge. She claimed Dad was just too noisy to sleep beside, which was weird at first. He used to snore louder than a train whistle before the machine, and she didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.
But when I started questioning why they were sleeping in separate rooms, it got me thinking about Tamara Lindsay. Poor Tamara Lindsay, who accidentally walked in on her parents in a very compromising position—position number 69 if we want to get real about it. And now Tamara is damaged for life. Seriously. The details Tamara gave? No one needs to see their parents doing that.
So, I figured whatever. If Mom and Dad no longer want to sleep together, it just means that at least I won’t ever have to worry about walking in on things Moms and Dads should not be allowed to do. What it does mean is that I have to be a little more careful about creeping past Mom’s bedroom downstairs.
I crane my head toward my bedroom door and don’t hear any footsteps coming up the stairs. I’m positive Mom is asleep by now.
I peer at the clock as I reach down to retrieve my phone.
Twelve-fourteen a.m.
Yeah, they’ve both got to be asleep for sure.
My jacket is draped over one arm, and I hold my pair of red Converse with my other hand as I inch my way across my room. I open the door soundlessly, grateful that I convinced Dad to fix the creak in it last weekend. After a quick glance across the hall and into the front room, I gently close the door behind me and tiptoe all the way down the stairs, making sure to skip the step third from the bottom because of the groan it makes. My heart gallops like a racehorse the whole way. I’m convinced Mom and Dad are going to barge out of their rooms any second to pounce on me.
But somehow I slide past Mom’s bedroom without incident and make it to the back patio door. I don’t dare creep out through the garage or the front door. That would basically be suicide. But the patio door is quiet, discreet and leads to a perfect escape route just left of the house. There’s a large pine tree there, wedged between the fence and the shed. It creates cover and forms a darkened shadow, despite the glare of the porch light that is always left on. All I need to do is inch my way down the length of the shadow, all the way to the far corner of the yard. The fence is old and needs to be rebuilt, and sharp slivers dig into my bare arms as I slide along it. But I’m eternally thankful for my parents’ procrastination in fixing it so my nightly escapades can continue.
Once I reach the end of the yard, I pry loose the third board from the left, the one I wedged back in last night. I lean it against the neighboring boards and squeeze myself through the ten-inch gap in the fence.
Crap, my T-shirt snags on a rough edge of wood as I squeeze through, and I swear under my breath. I just paid full price for it at H&M. Oh well, this is worth it—totally worth it.
Jennifer Walker is a teacher and writer from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. She lives with her husband Ian, her two children Everett and Kennedy, and her impossibly sweet Bernedoodle puppy Leo. When she’s not teaching, writing, or reading, you can most likely find her in a yoga studio, in the kitchen baking muffins, or running off the calories of the muffins she’s just baked. She’s famous for publicly embarrassing her family by singing terrible show-tunes and practicing 90’s dance moves, and if this whole writing thing doesn’t work out, she’s pretty sure she could make it as the fifth Wiggle.
You can find out more about Jennifer at her website.
Giveaway
Enter for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card! Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.
Race car driver Cody Gamino has come from Europe to the United States for one thing—to race with the incredible Xin. Their one night together meant more to him than he expected and suddenly, it’s not just about racing together but being together. Forever.
Racer N’Jelle ‘Xin’ Marx turns to a handsome man she met outside a bar, just to forget for a night. Six weeks and two pink lines later, she is questioning the decision she made that night. When he shows up at her job, revealing to her who he truly is, and snatches her position out from under her, she doesn’t have the fight in her any longer. And Cody isn’t one to give up—when he learns of his unborn child, he digs in even more. Will these two, used to life in the fast lane, learn to slow down and see what’s before them? Will they recognize what they have to lose?
Reader advisory: This book contains a brief mention of violence/murder.
Excerpt
“What’ll it be, love?”
The man who asked stared at her as if she were familiar to him and she barely resisted tensing up. She didn’t need to be recognized.
N’Jelle ‘Xin’ Marx craved nothing more than a good hard drink. At least if I can have that I’ll be on my way to forgetting this shitstorm of a day.
“Whiskey. Neat. Leave the bottle.”
The bartender nodded and had her requested items before her in mere moments. Blessedly, he then left her alone.
The first shot went down smooth and potent. Before the burn had even evaporated, she was pouring another, and chasing it down.
Warning prickles popped up along the back of her neck. That awareness came in handy while she drove on the track. Right now? Not so much.
“At least you drink whiskey like a decent human, no froo-froo shit for you.”
The slender woman that parked herself on the stool beside Xin looked not all that different from how she’d been earlier that day. N’Jelle sighed, not bothering to keep it quiet either. The other two were there as well.
She didn’t owe them a damn thing and she was irritated as fuck that they’d tracked her down.
Ignoring all three of them, she remained sitting faced forward and poured more liquid into her glass.
“Does she think we’ll just vanish if she doesn’t talk to us?”
The tallest and roughest of them had spoken this time. Not rough in an ugly way but more of an ‘I can kick your ass and look good doing it’ sort of way.
“She’s,” N’Jelle sneered, “sitting right here and doesn’t give a damn what you think I may or may not think. I’ve had enough of you today.”
“Tough shit.” The middle-sized one spoke now. She was the one who actually shared a father with N’Jelle. Xandra was her name. “You’re my sister now and I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, that you could just roll up at our event, drop that kind of bomb and walk off.”
Turning her gaze to the beauty beside her, Xin snarled. “You what, want me to apologize for not being invited to a family event and getting permission to show up? I don’t want anything from any of you. I had wanted to know why your father couldn’t be bothered with me, but I get it now. He has you and the other two he looks on as daughters—who gives a fuck about the one who was left behind and forgotten.”
Her shitty childhood was shoving at her, pushing for her to lose it and make a scene. Draw some blood.
This wasn’t smart—she had to get moving. Getting off the stool, she dug in her pocket for some bills. She tossed them on the bar top and nodded at the bartender. Then she spun to the door.
All three women stepped in front of her, and she snorted.
“Really? Grew up on the streets, bitches. Don’t push me. Get out of my way or you’re going to lose your weaves.”
Shoving through them, she walked out through the door and stepped into the night. Off in the distance, storm clouds rolled in, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. She requested a ride and kept an eye on the door as she waited. The three women walked out as her ride pulled up.
A leanly muscled man walked up to her from a different direction, his hat pulled down over his eyes.
“Where you off to, beautiful?”
Yeah, he’ll work. “Got any ideas?”
He held the car door for her and she got in, ignoring the calls from her half-sister and cousins. She wasn’t their concern. Hadn’t been before. Wasn’t now.
She needed to forget and this man, dressed in black jeans and a tight black shirt, with scruff on his face, seemed the perfect way to go about it.
Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She is happily married to a career military man. They are owned by six Borzoi. She spends her days at the day job, writing, and working with her dogs. She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached here. She can also be found on Facebook or Twitter: @AliyahBurke96. And Pinterest.
If you would like to be kept abreast of what’s going on in the world of Aliyah, you can sign up to her newsletter here.
Giveaway
Enter for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card! Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.
Jaya’s relationships never last more than six weeks. Austen wants to be her forever.
Six weeks is the outer limit for one of Jaya’s relationships. When men find out there is no future with her, they tend not to stick around for long.
She’s gotten into the habit of leaning on her cousin Austen to get over each breakup. Who better? Austen is six feet three of solid sympathy. Both adopted into the same extended family at young ages, they’ve been friends their whole lives, with a mutual taste for good food and expensive whisky. But when Jaya takes her latest failed romance to him, Austen makes it clear his interest in her is far from cousinly.
“Think about me,” Austen tells her, and Jaya starts to do just that. No doubt, Austen is incredibly attractive, and she can’t say she’s not curious to find out what he’s like in bed, but can their bond survive this new test?
Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of light bondage.
Excerpt
Austen answered his phone on the first ring.
“What do you need, kiddo?”
Jaya paused, taken aback by the curt greeting. After a moment, she realised that he always answered his calls from her in the same way. “What do you need?” As if she could never just be calling for no reason at all.
“Is that any way to greet your favourite cousin?” she replied, forcing a bright note into her voice. “You’re my favourite, you know.”
“As far as you know, you might have any number of cousins,” Austen said coolly. “How could you possibly claim to know I would be the favourite?”
Because you’re the only one I’ve actually met, she wanted to tell him, although she understood the crude point he was trying to make. By blood, she was no cousin of his.
Jaya wished she owned one of those old-fashioned phones with the long curly cord so she could twine it between her fingers. Instead, she shifted her mobile from one sweaty hand to the other.
She wasn’t about to tell him that she couldn’t bear her own company tonight. She’d left work early, needing to get away from the high-energy actors she was constantly surrounded by, only to find that the so-called peace of her apartment was too oppressively quiet.
“I thought we might grab a drink tonight,” Jaya said, still striving to maintain her cheerful tone. “It’s been a while.”
“Six weeks,” Austen said. “Right on schedule.”
She remembered what he’d said the last time they’d met up. That she only called him when she broke up with someone. That, to her, he was no more than a shoulder attached to a man. A shoulder for her to cry on, presumably, although she never did cry. She merely got drunk.
“Ha ha. Do you want the drink or not?” Jaya demanded.
“I have to get up early tomorrow,” Austen told her, sounding uncharacteristically reluctant.
What is wrong with him? Jaya wondered, pulled out of her own problems for a brief moment. It had to be bad if he was turning down liquor. They both fancied themselves connoisseurs of the hard stuff. Neither of them drank wine or, shudder, beer.
“I’ll get you home early, granddad,” Jaya told him. “So how about it? Nine o’clock at The Cat’s Whiskey?”
“All right, kiddo.”
Shaking her head, Jaya hung up. He didn’t have to sound so bloody glum about the prospect.
Nan Comargue is a romance and erotic romance writer who has been reading romance novels all her life. She prefers sexy confident heroes who win over slightly introverted heroines (read: nerdish types) but she writes about everything from angel-warriors to cowboy ménage.
Nan blogs about her writing journey and other interesting topics (zombies!) here but lately she tweets more than she blogs (and sometimes more than she writes).
Nan is Canadian, eh?
Giveaway
Enter for your chance to win a $50.00 First For Romance Gift Card!
Country boy Colum Boyle has been home to work the family farm for a while now. He’s shocked when he’s sent to pick up his sister’s best friend for a wedding, and he realizes he’s never gotten over her.
Veterinarian Xaya Asher isn’t sure all the mental preparation in the world has her ready to face Colum again. The sparks between them are combustible and soon the flames erupt.
Do these two have what it takes to overcome the obstacles before them?
Excerpt
“Line two, Dr. Asher.”
Jogging up the hallway from the back, Xaya waved a hand in acknowledgment to her practice manager as she passed the woman’s room.
The morning had been crazy and she was trying to get to her office for a moment of rest and food. That was the main thing. The half a bagel she’d inhaled at the ass-crack of dawn this morning hadn’t been what she needed to keep up with the expenditure of energy she’d expelled so far today.
“We ordered out—there’s a sandwich on your desk because I know you didn’t bring anything in with you.”
“I love you, Mrs. Connie.” And it was true, she loved her staff.
“Yeah, yeah,” the manager teased back.
With the door closed behind her, she walked to her desk and sat with a groan. The hot roast beef sandwich tempted her and the smells rising from it had her stomach chiming in on its opinion of how this should go. Phone or food first?
She kicked off her shoes once she’d taken her seat, stole two bites just to make her mouth happy, then she picked up the phone.
“Dr. Asher.”
“Xaya? It’s Avery.”
She frowned and shook her head before the smile overtook her. “Girl, what are you doing calling me on this line? I have a cell phone of which I’m fairly certain you have the number.”
“I wanted to give you a heads-up before I start hammering away at you on the cell.”
“I’m putting you on speaker so I can eat.” After doing just that, she took another big bite of her food and moaned in contentment.
“You sure you’re eating food and not getting dick?”
She snorted. “Positive. Now come on, tell me what this is all about. Why do I need a heads-up and what’s it going to cost me?”
“A plane ticket.”
Sucking gravy off her thumb, she scowled. “Everyone okay?”
A deep breath. “Yes. Lani’s getting married.”
“Oh my God!” Xaya clapped her hands. “This is incredible. She found someone we’re all okay with?”
“I miss you, Xaya. I love how you need to make sure you’re going to be okay with him as well, but yes. We do love him. His name is Sanders and no, not as in Colonel.”
She snorted because that was exactly where her mind had ventured. “Okay, so we approve of him, good. Why do I need a heads-up? I would love to come for the wedding. She’s like my own little sister. Where is it? Maui? Baja? Cabo? Paris? Italy? Bahamas?”
“You know Lani. It’s home.”
Her fork clattered to the desk, leaving behind a smear of mashed potatoes.
“Conception?”
Was that her voice that squeaked when she asked that?
“Yes.”
Xaya sighed. The denial built on her tongue. She wasn’t ready to head back to the small town she’d grown up in down south. Conception. School just hadn’t been a blast for her and to return was not something she wanted to do.
“I know,” Avery said quickly. “You didn’t have a lot of fun here, despite us having fun. It wasn’t easy for you but you did it. You survived. Lani wanted me to ask you and I’m willing to cash in any and all chips I have with you to get you here for her wedding. It’s all she wants, so what’s it going to take?”
“Nothing.” As soon as the word left her mouth she knew it was true. She would do anything for Avery, her best friend outside of her cousins, and Lani was also included in that.
“Text me the information and I’ll make the arrangements. You know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Lani.” And that was true. She and Avery’s family had been fiercely protective of that particular Boyle sibling. “Still going to cost you, though.”
“What?” she demanded in false outrage. “Are you sure?”
“More and more so with each passing second. And you better make it worth my while.”
“Okay, how about this… I give you one hot—your words not mine—brother of mine, Colum Boyle.”
If she’d had any food in her mouth she would have spit it out. Or choked. Colum had been five years their senior and, good Lord, he’d starred in all of her fantasies. No one in school had been able to compare to him.
“Pretty sure you’re pimping out your brother and I’m not sure he’s going to be okay with that.”
“Doesn’t matter what he thinks. This is about me making sure we’re square.”
Xaya laughed. “You totally mean that, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“You can’t sell your brother to be my sex slave for the time I’m up there.”
“I never mentioned slavery. More like an escort.”
She dug back into her food, highly amused by the conversation. “How about we discuss payment that doesn’t include you selling off a family member for favors?”
“You’d take him.”
“Not even necessary to discuss this because we’re not using him as money.” Fuck yes, she’d take him. Especially if he’d only improved on what she remembered from the last time she’d seen him, right before he’d gone and joined the Marines.
“Dr. Asher. Hit and run inbound. They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Melody.” She stole one last bite and took a drink. “Sorry to cut this short, Avery.”
“I know, I heard. I’ll text you the deets. And, Xaya?”
“Yeah?” She stood and readjusted her lab coat before swiping her cell and sticking it in her back pocket.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I meant what I said, Avery. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She hung up the phone and ran out of her office.
Colum has only ever wanted one woman. Too bad he can’t man up and tell her. There were times I wanted to smack him for being an idiot, and others he had me swooning.
Xaya doesn’t like chasing someone who’s made it clear they don’t want her. Then Colum gives her mixed signals. She was feisty and strong, and even found the courage to walk away when it seemed like he’d never love her.
There’s a teensy bit of drama, lots of steamy scenes, and a happily ever after that will make you smile. As well as an unexpected surprise that leaves us hanging a bit. But Xaya and Colum’s story wraps up nicely. Can’t wait to see what happens next in the series.
*Disclaimer: I received an ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The review above is only my opinion.
Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She is happily married to a career military man. They are owned by six Borzoi. She spends her days at the day job, writing, and working with her dogs. She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached here. She can also be found on Facebook or Twitter: @AliyahBurke96. And Pinterest.
If you would like to be kept abreast of what’s going on in the world of Aliyah, you can sign up to her newsletter here.
Giveaway
Enter for the chance to win a $50.00 First for Romance Gift Card! Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.
A brilliant Native American archaeology student and her Brit ‘bad boy’ professor find the key to love, hot sex and…what? A lost civilization?
Cocheta ‘Cat’ White Eagle is a Native American archaeology grad student on a mission to prove the existence of her ancestral Lost Tribe. A vision tells her it’s somewhere high in the treacherous mountains of Sedona. The only problem is she’s afraid of heights! Trying to conquer her fear through pole dancing—of course—she attracts the attention of a bad boy Brit. He’s exciting, brilliant and sexy but totally off-limits. He’s her new professor, a hound, and if he recognizes her as the girl behind the mask of ‘The Contessa’, her career will be over before it begins.
Colin Tucker is a drop-dead-gorgeous Londoner who is rocketing to the top of his field. Alas, the sandy-haired, blue-eyed wunderkind has a weakness for sexy women—including the French Ambassador’s daughter, no less. Banished to the Colonies, he finds himself torn between the exotic stripper and his brilliant student. After being put to a sexy test, he gives his heart to Cat, his student. He pledges to help her in her search, they join forces and live hap—
But wait! Smugglers, deception and danger… Oh my! Colin breaks up with Cat to keep her safe, gets arrested for stealing artifacts and helps the thieves trying to thwart her quest.
Is that really how to win the girl?
Reader advisory: This book contains explosions, death threats, outdoor sex and minor instances of racism from a secondary character.
Nick and Rebecca are madly in love, kinky as hell and ready to push the boundaries a little. As her Dom and her Daddy, fulfilling all her desires is both Nick’s responsibility and his privilege, but while Rebecca loves the idea of Nick sharing her with another Dom, she’s not sure if she’s ready to turn her fantasy into reality.
Nick is eager to facilitate the threesome of her dreams, but it’s no hardship to wait until she’s ready…and, in the meantime, maybe give her a hint of just what two Doms can do for her.
With a small taste of the very sexy possibilities, it doesn’t take long for Rebecca to get on board, especially since she’s developed a small, harmless crush on Nick’s preferred co-Top, his good friend and fellow Dom, Cade.
Nick and Cade have teamed up before, so he knows they can deliver on the promises Nick has made. Together, they’ll be sure to give Rebecca a scene—and a night—none of them will ever forget…
Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of erotic humiliation and multiple partner sex.
Excerpt
The tremor in her arm was the first sign Cat was reaching her limit. Her labored breathing was the second. She’d pushed so hard during this climb that every bit of clothing she wore—her long-sleeved gray jersey, her sports bra underneath, her long black climbing tights—was soaked. Sweat ran down from her sopping bandana into her eyes. The salt stung. She clenched her jaw.
I can do this.
The fear she’d fought so hard to ignore disagreed. ‘No, you can’t,’ cackled the demon within.
She fought back.
Hang in there. Stay here for a minute and rest. We’ll be okay. Relax. Just don’t look down.
She took a deep breath and gripped the red-hued rock tighter. Her gloves weren’t thick enough to protect her from its knife-like edge. It bit back. “Ow!” The burn spread through her arms. She kept shifting her right foot to find a more secure foothold.
Better. Worse. Better. Worse. Damn!
The struggle only added to the strain on her upper body. Now both her arms were shaking. Stop! she commanded. They ignored her. She took a series of deep, hard breaths, hoping to get oxygen to her muscles. Her throat burned from the effort.
Put the weight on your left foot to get a better grip.
The black rubber sole slipped off the rock and shot into mid-air. She grunted and instinctively tightened her grip even more, which only increased the pain.
Defying the agony, she pulled herself up a few more inches. Her heart thundered against her chest. Straining, she gasped for air. Safety was within sight. If she could just grab the next handhold, she could regain her balance and give herself a chance. She gritted her teeth and stretched—but it was just out of reach.
She put all her weight on one leg and explored the rough surface with her free foot. Miraculously, she found a foothold that would let her lift herself.
I can do this!
She shifted her weight onto that side.
Stretch! Push! Pull! Fight! Just two more inches.
But the pressure on her leg was too much. The pain in her calf was instant and searing.
Fuck! A cramp!
The muscle tightened with a mind of its own, oblivious to the fact that it was bringing about its own destruction. With her legs now useless, she shifted back to her arms. Drained, they shook. Even her hands had nothing left.
No! No!
She gulped as dread washed over her. But she still struggled.
It will be okay, she lied.
Her heart pounded as her fate became undeniable. Her throat tightened and her face flushed. She didn’t know which felt worse—the pain in her hands from gripping so hard? The searing burn in her muscles? The terror at being so high? Shame at having overreached and being the author of her demise? Swallowing hard, she knew that, given what was about to happen, the question was academic.
Her trembling arms told her that she had only seconds before her body betrayed her. She closed her eyes tight, clenched her jaw, kept fighting and prayed for a miracle. But her final bit of energy evaporated.
Even as the cold, merciless hand of Death pried her fingers from the rock and pulled her to her tragic destiny, she refused to surrender.
No! No!
But gravity pulled her backward like a rag doll.
“No! No! Please, God! No!” she screamed into the void.
She plummeted.
Three feet.
The sturdy black safety harness snapped sharply around her. She grunted in reply, and her friend slowly lowered her to the gym floor.
Lauren greeted her with a big smile and a warm hug. “Twenty feet. That’s a new personal best, Cat. Congratulations. Of course”—she laughed—“it doesn’t change that you just died again. What is that…five times today? But it’s still an accomplishment. High five!”
Cat’s arms were so spent that she couldn’t raise either one in response. As her friend helped her out of the harness, she hung her head and wiped her face. “I know you’re trying to be encouraging, but being so weak and terrified only twenty feet off the ground is humiliating. I’m such a failure!” She began to cry.
Her friend covered her in an oversized pink towel to sop up the perspiration. “They’ve got the AC blasting, sweetie. You’re drenched from going all out. You don’t want to catch cold.” She put her arm around her as they walked to the locker room.
As she and her friend dressed in the pristine locker room after showering, Lauren pointed to the sopping mountain of heavy, colorless, sweat-soaked fabric in front of Cat’s locker. “That’s at least one problem you could solve in one stroke. You’d be cooler and more comfortable climbing in shorts and a sports bra. All that wet cloth makes you overheat and drains your energy.”
Cat winced. She was a failure as a climber. Now she couldn’t even dress right.
“I’m sorry, Cat.” Lauren hugged her. “You know I’m your biggest fan. I’m just trying to help. Let me treat you to coffee. I’ll even spring for a chocolate croissant. The good news is that since you’re now nearly a ghost, calories don’t count.”
Cat mustered a weak laugh.
“Seriously, it takes real guts to face your fears like this. You should be proud. You’re a fighter!”
“Sure, a fighter without a punch,” she replied dejectedly.
Lauren wrapped Cat in another big hug, and Cat laid her head on the comforting shoulder, took a deep breath and relaxed into her warmth.
“You’re the best, Lauren. I’d have given up weeks ago if it weren’t for you.”
As they left the gym, Cat squinted at the bright sunshine and winced at the heat then she tossed her bag into the trunk of her old canary-yellow Toyota. It was a glorious day in Sedona. The spectacular blue sky perfectly framed the red rocks glistening in the distance. Normally, Cat took comfort in the natural beauty around her—especially the rugged red mountains that reminded her of her heritage and her mission. Today, defeated by the climbing wall yet again, she barely acknowledged her surroundings. Her friend pointed to the mountains. “You have my word,” she said resolutely. “You’re going to own those rocks.” Cat shrugged. She was too tired to argue.
They walked the few blocks to the café arm in arm. Lauren wore cute pink shorts and a tight white sleeveless top. Cat had on long, loose-fitting black track pants and an oversized, long-sleeved, gray, Red Rock University T-shirt. Pressed down by the weight of her exhaustion, the best she could manage was a slow trudge.
As she reached for her coffee on the white stone counter, her arm still shook. She had to use both hands to pick up the red paper cup. She carefully placed it on the sturdy wood table so it wouldn’t spill. As she started to sit down, however, her leg began to cramp again. She lost her balance and jostled the table. The cup rocked, but Lauren grabbed the drink before it could tip over and stain the red-and-white checkerboard tablecloth. Despondent, Cat plopped into a chair and stretched out her leg to stop the cramp. Once the pain had passed, she picked up a sugar packet—but tore it so badly that it exploded over a pair of cute guys walking by. As she brushed the white powder off her gray T-shirt, she noticed that they looked her way then chuckled. She flushed hotly, put her head on the table, covered it with her arms and sighed.
“They thought it was cute,” Lauren said quietly. “Sit up. They’re hanging around. They want to come over and chat.”
Cat sat back up, shook her head and mumbled something incomprehensible.
Lauren caught the guys’ eyes and shrugged apologetically. They picked up their drinks and headed out. “Okay, the coast is clear.”
Cat shook her head in disgust. “See? I can’t even manage a cup of coffee and cute guys. I’m pitiful—a pathetic sack of fears destined for failure. I’m an aspiring archaeologist who’s afraid of heights. Even after presenting at a bunch of conferences, I’m still terrified of public speaking. I hate it when anyone even looks at me. Those guys were gawking at adorable you. They noticed me only because what I did was stupid. I have ‘career fiasco’ and ‘relationship nightmare’ written all over me. I’m hopeless.” She slumped again.
Lauren took her hand and gave her a warm smile. “Are you kidding? Bumping into the table and not being able to open the sugar are signs that you went all out on your climbs. You don’t do things halfway. I admire that about you.” She put her finger under Cat’s chin, raised it and looked directly in her eyes. “Now, tell yourself you’re a fighter…and mean it! That’s an order!”
She sighed. “Fine. I’m a fighter,” she murmured sullenly.
“Cat!” Lauren replied.
“Okay, okay. Despite my unbroken string of miserable failures and despite the obvious futility of continuing to try, I stupidly haven’t given up,” she said.
Lauren laughed. “If that’s the best you can do, I’ll take it. And also tell yourself that you’re a beautiful, sexy woman. I’ve seen you naked at the gym. Those guys were checking you out because you’re hot—even when you insist on dressing like a nun.”
Cat managed a weak smile then the tears started again.
Lauren reached into her white backpack and handed her a tissue. She stroked Cat’s arm gently. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, sweetie, but you actually had a good day. Once you get past the fear of heights, you won’t waste so much of your energy gripping so tightly. And weight work will give you the strength you need.”
Cat wiped her eyes and made a face, recalling how embarrassing her recent sessions at the gym had been. “I struggle so much, even with small dumbbells, that I get that pitiful look from everyone around me. They ask me if I’m okay, like I’m coming back from major surgery or something. I’ve even tried to go when no one else is there, but then the trainers come over. I can see it in their eyes. They’re worried I’m going to hurt myself then sue them. I’m so self-conscious that it’s humiliating.”
Her friend paused, a frown furrowing her forehead, and looked down at the table. She sat quietly for a few seconds, pursed her lips and moved the saltshaker from a red square to a white one as deliberately as if she were playing chess. She glanced back up at Cat. “Maybe…you…” She took a sip of coffee. “It’s just…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Lauren looked down and took the pepper shaker this time. Staring in its direction but not really looking at it, she rhythmically tapped it on the table as she pursed her lips.
Cat sighed. “Come on. I can take it. You’re going to tell me I’m stupid to think I can do this. I need to face facts and give up.” She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands as though someone was going to punch her.
Lauren gently took Cat’s hands and put them back on the table. “Look at me, Cat. I am not going to criticize you. You do that too much already. How do you forget so quickly that you graduated summa, won a great graduate fellowship and are on a fast track to your Ph.D.? Didn’t the school just send you to that conference in Greece where everyone raved over your presentation? You’re awesome! You’re the only one who doesn’t know that. I wasn’t going to criticize you. Actually”—she looked out of the window—“I might…have an idea,” she said hesitantly.
Is there hope?
Looking back at Cat, Lauren sat quietly. She leaned in, lowered her voice and spoke. “I have a thought…about a Plan B…to solve your problems. It’s unusual, but…” She left the sentence incomplete.
Cat leaned forward excitedly. “A Plan B? Really? Tell me.”
Lauren looked into her coffee and stirred. She took a deep breath and sipped. Then her face tightened and turned red. Quickly looking down at the crusty croissant in front of her, she said abruptly, “Boy, this coffee is hot.” Flustered, she tore off a piece of her pastry. “And this looks great.”
Cat was startled. She didn’t believe that hot coffee could make her friend’s face turn scarlet. What is she not saying?
Lauren looked away and pulled her long blonde hair behind her. “Um. Not weights.” She looked down and tapped her fingers on the table. Her face tensed, and—to Cat’s surprise—she bit her lip and held her breath for a few seconds. When she exhaled, she almost imperceptibly shook her head.
After a few seconds, she looked up and glanced out of the window. “I mean, let’s figure out why you’re so afraid first. If we can reduce your panic, you’ll be more relaxed and will climb better,” she said, looking back at Cat. “Then we’ll worry about body strength. So, where does the fear come from? And if you’re so terrified, why are you so committed to learning to climb?”
Everything—Lauren’s cadence, expression, posture—screamed that she’d deliberately changed the topic.
Cat frowned. If there were another way to tackle her fears, she didn’t understand why her friend wouldn’t tell her. But it was obvious that pressing for an explanation was the wrong thing to do. She’d respect Lauren’s wishes. At the same time, she wasn’t ready to confide everything to Lauren yet about her embarrassing fears and weird obsessions—at least not in a public coffee shop where she could be overheard. “I promise I’ll explain—but let’s save it for a day when I haven’t fallen to my death so many times.”
“Fair enough.” Lauren smiled. “But enough with the sad stuff.” She leaned in with a naughty smirk and lowered her voice. “Tell me all about the conference. Any cute guys?”
“I told you I’m not interested in anything that could distract me from my work—and certainly not a relationship until after I have my degree.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Did you follow my suggestion”—she nudged Cat conspiratorially—“and engage in some wanton revelry? God knows you deserve it after how hard you’ve been working.”
“Wanton revelry?” Cat looked puzzled.
“Sorry. Too much Shakespeare. When you got to the conference and unpacked, you must have found my strapless red dress I snuck into your bag. Did it work? Did you get laid? Surely there were any number of hot young studs happy to service you.”
Cat laughed. “Hot young studs? Have you ever seen what archaeologists look like?”
“Sure. Indiana Jones. The hat. The whip. The bedroom eyes. Bedroom hands. Bedroom you-know-what.” She playfully raised her eyebrows a couple of times.
“Sorry,” she chuckled. “That’s the movies. Real life archaeologists are nerd city.”
“Wait a minute. Didn’t you text me that there was some drop-dead gorgeous guy all the women were drooling over? The one who’d made some sort of amazing discovery?”
“Oh, him. The Brit who found an ancient Grecian vase that’s going to rewrite the history of the period. Because my flight got delayed, I got to the conference after his lecture, and he was nowhere to be seen. I don’t believe he was as good looking as everyone said. Nobody’s that handsome! Even so, I wouldn’t be interested. He’s not my type.”
“Not your type? Handsome and brilliant? He’s every woman’s type!”
“No, I mean he’s a hound.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively and grimaced. “He pursues women with the same vengeance he uses to look for artifacts. We’re just prizes for him. The rumor mill said he was bed-hopping the entire conference. Colin Tucker is the last man I’d ever be interested in!”
Jane Colt began writing romances to deal with the stress of a ‘day job’ that’s mainly about examining the various ways people treat one another badly. An incurable romantic, her stories give her hope that we really can live happily ever after—even if only in our imaginations. She writes erotic romances because, having been raised in a morally rigid home, she wants to encourage in her readers a healthier, ‘sex positive’ outlook. She especially wants her heroines to be as sexy and passionate as they desire. You can count on the fact that her couples end up in love and having great sex! … OK, maybe they have the sex first!
Her stories aim to be light-hearted, fun, upbeat—and sexy! No dark, brooding, broken, tortured guys who need fixing. Just great, handsome, smart, sexy, ‘real men’ whose only weakness is being unable to resist the women she pairs them with. Think Lifetime or Hallmark movies plus hot sex!
She’s lived on both coasts of the U.S., recently leaving the beaches of Los Angeles to return home to the glorious autumn foliage of western Massachusetts. Married, she and her spouse are happy to be the devoted servants of two adorable cats. She loves traveling. Favorite cities: San Francisco, Boston, Venice, London, London, London!
By the way, anyone who knows her would be shocked to learn she writes erotic romances. “Jane Colt” is a pen name. So, shhhhhh.
JANE COLT IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET GET A FREE EBOOK FROM THE AUTHOR! Notice: This competition ends on 10th August 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.
How would you feel when the man you have known and loved for the last five years is not who he said he was? That everything he ever told you was all a lie.
An accident changed our lives forever and now I have to bring him back to us because he doesn’t remember our life, our family or us. One minute, I was just a regular girl from India married to a man she loved, and the next, my life has changed completely because I’m married to an English Duke, who doesn’t remember me.
My name is Aaliya Singh Talbot and I will do whatever it takes to bring my husband back from the darkness and into the light.
I will make him remember no matter what I have to do!
I will make him remember everything – beneath all the lies!
In a heartbeat, I know it’s me. I jerk awake and sit upright on my bed, my heart roaring against my ribcage. My hand trembles as I push my long hair back from my damp forehead. He can’t be dead; this was just a dream! I chant that thought while taking huge calming breaths. This is the third time this week I’ve woken up like this, feeling like he’s gone. The fact that I’ve lost all touch with him screams inside me that something is drastically wrong else he’d never be silent for this long; his phone would never be switched off like it has been this last week. I shut my eyes, anxiety weighing me down. How long should I convince myself there is a reason for his silence?
I grab the photo frame from my bedside table. It is a picture of Damien and I from our honeymoon. His arm is around me and both of us are smiling into the camera, the waves of the Indian Ocean crashing behind us.
I run a finger along his face, tracing that bearded jaw, visualizing him in my mind’s eye. Those striking grey-green eyes that sparkle whenever they rest on me, that heart-stopping smile that almost always makes me melt. I miss him! I miss being tucked under his chin when he hugs me. I miss his scent and I miss how his strong arms and tall frame wrap around me when we sleep, making me feel protected and cherished. This is the first time we’ve been separated for so long and perhaps that’s what is making me anxious. I shake my head. No, something is wrong. I can sense it.
God! Please let him be safe, I pray.
Love is a strange yet powerful emotion that hit me when I least expected it and swept me off my feet without me even knowing it. And now, five years later, it is the faith I have in that love that makes me believe he would never leave me without contact—unless he was in trouble.
Fear for him slithers like a poisonous snake across my veins but I have to tamper it down because I have one more reason to remain sane, to stay anchored to the belief that Damien will be fine, no matter what. I breathe in deep, letting the familiar hum of the air conditioner soothe my nerves before I slide off the bed. My feet hit the cold marble floor and I head to the other bedroom where I tip toe inside.
My darling little boy—an angel with his mouth open and a tiny hand clutching his rather overlong hair—is sleeping in his cot. A small smile skates across my lips and my heart warms as I stare at him for a moment before lifting him carefully and putting him on my shoulder. He wriggles for a moment but soon relaxes in my arms, his nose digging into the side of my neck. I inhale his soft, sweet fragrance, and shut my eyes for a few seconds. Rian is ten months old and the love of our lives. Reluctant to let go of him, I hold him for a second longer before I gently tuck him back in his cot and caress his beloved face, so similar to his father.
My cell phone rings and I run to my room, glancing at the clock that shows that it’s three in the morning. I pray fervently that it’s finally him calling. Please God, let that be my husband!
I lift the cell, scanning the caller id and my shoulders slump.
“Gabriel!” I breathe into the phone. “Where is Damien? It’s been a week since I heard from him. One whole week with his phone switched off and you giving me a different excuse each time I call. I’m scared, Gabe. You can’t even begin to imagine the thoughts running through my mind.”
His silence only fuels my fear.
“Gabe, please,” I plead. “Where is he?”
“Aaliya, he…he’s been in a car accident!”
“No! God, no!” I shudder. “Is he-”
I swallow against the pain in my throat and try again, because I need to know. “Is he fine? Please tell me he’s alive!”
“Aaliya, he’s fine. He was in a coma for a week. He’s just woken up now.”
“One week!” I gasp out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tears burn my eyes, threatening to spill over. “His trip to London was planned for two days not ten, Gabe. I’ve lived in terror this last week ever since I lost contact with him. You knew how worried I was and yet you fed me with one excuse after the other. How could you keep his accident from me? I deserved to know, Gabe.”
“Aaliya…”
“Don’t you dare try and placate me!” I yell, unable to hold it back any longer. “You should’ve called me the minute he was admitted to the hospital.”
“Aaliya, I’m sorry. I truly am!” His voice comes out broken. “This is hard for me too. I didn’t tell you because he told me to look after you and Rian first if anything happened to him. I never imagined that he’d meet with an accident so soon after. You may not understand this now, Aaliya, but I did this to protect you both.”
“Protect us from what?”
Gabe sighs. “How much do you know of the English aristocracy?”
My fist squeezes tighter around my phone. “I don’t care about the damn English aristocracy. Tell me about Damien. How is he?”
“Like I said, he’s fine now. He woke up a few hours ago. He’s injured his head, but he will be fine. There’s a lot to tell you, Aaliya. Damien hasn’t told you entirely who he was…is.”
“What do you mean, Gabe? Don’t talk to me in riddles. Besides, I know who he was…” I shake my head. “…he is. I know about his life in England. So, stop trying to tell me something else.”
I’ve known Gabriel Westcott for as long as I’ve known Damien, which is five years now. He is Damien’s best friend, his business partner and was his best man at our wedding. Since Damien was an orphan, Gabe was also the only person to attend from Damien’s side. This last week he’s given me one excuse after the other regarding the silence from Damien and now he’s feeding me some nonsense about my husband that I refuse to believe.
“Damn it, Aaliya. You need to listen to me!” Gabe shouts. “Damien is the second son of the Duke of Kittridge. He returned here to England ten days ago not on a business trip, like he told you, but because his father and brother died in a car crash. He came for their funeral and because of his new responsibility. Damien is now the Duke of Kittridge.”
“No!” I whisper, dropping down on the bed. “That can’t be true. He would have told me. No! I don’t believe you.”
“Google it. Now! It’s K I T T R I D G E.”
He spells the word as I grab my laptop and open Google and type the letters. My eyes widen in shock. Oh my God! The cords in my neck strain as I stare at the images on the screen. There are dozens of pictures of Damien. He’s at a funeral. He’s with an older woman. Another picture shows him with his arm around a younger blonde woman, comforting her. Who are these women? What in the hell is going on? I read tweets on him.
“The new Duke of Kittridge”
“Missing son returns after five years”
“The Devil Lord is now the Devil Duke”
The Internet has the whole history of Damien; it knows things I’ve never known. My Damien is not Damien Alexander, as I’ve always known him; he is Damien Alexander Talbot, now the Duke of Kittridge.
“How…how is this possible?” My voice trembles. “How could I have not known?”
“I will explain it all to you, Aaliya. But first, you need to come to London as soon as you can. Can you organize to leave Rian with someone for a few days?”
“I’ll bring him with me. Damien will want to see him.”
“Aaliya,” Gabe lowers his tone and my heartbeat accelerates yet again, “he doesn’t remember you. He has no memory of the last five years of his life, which includes Rian and you.”
Did he just say that? No! It can’t be true. But I know to the core of my being that it is true. This is why my instincts have been roaring at me since the last few days. My stomach plummets, the hollowness spreading through every inch of my body. A whimper escapes my mouth and I press a hand on my lips to stop myself from screaming.
About the Author:
Sapna Bhog is an author from India who writes contemporary and historical romance novels. As a self-proclaimed die-hard romantic, her books are filled with swoon-worthy heroes and feisty heroines who clash all the time, but do get their happy ever after. Sapna has always surrounded herself with books and when she is not writing she is reading. Originally from Dubai, she now lives in Western India with her husband, kids and a Siberian Husky. Sapna gave up a successful IT career and took a foray into writing and has never looked back since. Her favourite pastimes are reading, writing, traveling and shopping—not necessarily in that order. She loves to hear from readers.
When Ember’s apartment burns down, two firemen offer their guesthouse for her to rent out. Not able to sleep on her friend’s couch any longer, she takes them up on their offer. One night smo
ke pours from their house. She rushes in to help them and discovers their secret.
With her restaurant being bought out from under her, Ember’s life is unraveling. She doesn’t know if she can trust her landlords. Someone knows what they truly are and kidnaps her to pressure her for information about the firemen. When she doesn’t talk about her green-skinned firemen, the situation only gets worse.
As love grows between Ember and her aliens, the world closes around them. She needs to get closer to them, but men invade their home. In order to save them, she will have to give up everything she knows.
Kilfanian Captain Hami comes to Earth to find his missing sister. But when his ship inadvertently causes a fire in a science building, he sees the glowing multicolored path that legend says leads Kilfanians to their mates. He follows that path into the blaze and finds a beautiful Human woman dying of smoke inhalation. To save her, he takes her to his ship for treatment.
Astrophysicist Amina Washington never expected to be abducted by aliens — especially not one so handsome and seductive. Amina is torn between their growing love and her need to return to Earth with proof of the existence of aliens.
Captivated, Hami finds himself questioning everything he believed about humans. Yet he and Amina are literally from different worlds. Can he find a future with a human woman who makes him want to be more than just a warrior of Kilfane? Especially when her people abducted his sister?
Moonshine: No one expects a werewolf to be running a moonshine still. Hell, a ridgerunner? Sure. He’s seen that coming from birth. What he didn’t inherit was lycanthropy. But life’s full of the unexpected. And now there’s David, self proclaimed expert tracker, and hunter of the bastard who turned them both. David is just the kind of trouble Jenson doesn’t need, and everything he wants.
Absinthe: Barthe and Rene have a real mess on their hands. Years ago, Barthe made a stupid mistake. Now Rene’s not sure he can believe Barthe will ever really want him. Add to their dilemma Barthe’s brother Bastien, and a werewolf caught half shifted… Can they come back together before they lose their love forever?
Thomas Bright never would have dropped his glamour if he’d known he’d be going into heat. The one night he decides to cut loose at the decadent BDSM club, the Wild Hunt, just happens to be the one night he meets his mate.
Would you give up everything — money, power, and even your old life — to save your marriage?
Realizing her obsession with her job is destroying her marriage — and her life — Million Dollar Millicent, real estate entrepreneur and all around bitch, books a fantasy vacation for herself and her husband Alex on a tropical playground planet. It’s a place where your deepest desires come true — even if you’re not sure what they are.
Alex has had enough of living with a hellcat who jumps at the sound of a ringing com unit. They’ve become a dysfunctional pair bond, and he’d give anything to have things the way they were when they were just poor students with no prospects. Worse, if Millicent knew his true fantasies, she’d be running, rather than trying to mend the breach between them.
But Millicent has some hidden fantasies of her own — and she and Alex aren’t as mismatched as they think.
“The story of a bit of sin, a bit of bondage play, oh that just heats up the pages… This story is full of heat, love [and] erotic lovin’ that set the pages and me on fire.”
— Nicole Harvey, ParaNormalRomance (PNR)
“Ms. Austin’s futuristic, science fiction world is an exciting and erotic playground that I would like to escape to. Where can I sign up?”
Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”
Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?
What better way for Harley to celebrate her birthday than with a book release?
Cover Art by Bryan Keller
Lilian — I may have survived my time with the Colombian cartel, but it nearly broke me. Even now, I can’t stand to be touched by men. But there’s one man who makes me feel safe. Dragon. He’s intrigued me for so long. I never counted on things getting heated between us, or me ending up pregnant. He made it clear he doesn’t want me, or a baby, so I ran. I thought I’d found sanctuary with the Reckless Kings, but it only put me in the crosshairs of a lunatic intent on revenge.
Dragon — I knew Lilian was still skittish with men. When she asked for my help in learning self-defense, I’d been surprised. I never counted on those lessons bringing us closer together, or that she’d ask the unthinkable of me. Now she’s carrying my kid, and I f***ed up six ways to Sunday. When she’s kidnapped, I realize it’s time to bring her home. My home. Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure Lilian knows she’s mine. Even if I have to grovel a little.
WARNING: This is a romance with darker themes that may trigger some readers. It has strong language and graphic violence, a heroine who is tougher than she realizes, and an alpha hero who will stop at nothing to make her his. If you’ve read this author’s work before, please be advised Dragon is more violent than the previous books. Guaranteed HEA and no cliffhanger!
I was exhausted, but I didn’t want to use what little money was in my account to stop at a motel. I pulled over for another break and used my phone to look up the Reckless Kings, hoping there would be some mention of exactly where they were located, or at least which town. When my phone rang, I nearly dropped it. Outlaw.
Oh hell. Did that mean he knew where I was? Would he tell my dad? Of course he would. Outlaw was nothing if not loyal to the club, which meant he was loyal to Grizzly. I answered, dread filling me.
“Hi, Outlaw.”
“Lilian, you are in so much fucking trouble right now. Why the fuck are you in Tennessee?”
I did drop the phone that time, and scrambled to pick it back up. “What? I-I’m not.”
“Yeah, darlin’, you are. I can trace your phone and your car. Didn’t tell anyone shit just yet, though. Needed to talk to you and make sure you were okay. Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
“I’m pregnant, Outlaw. Shella told Dad and I could hear through the phone how pissed he was. I left because I didn’t want…” I stopped, not knowing if everyone knew about Dragon now.
“You didn’t want Dragon to get into trouble with the Pres?” he asked.
“Right.”
“Too late. Griz ripped him a new one, then started pounding on him, until he discovered you were missing. When Shella called to tell him you’d taken off, it scared the piss out of him. Everyone’s been out searching. Told them you must have shut off your phone because I couldn’t find you. No one knows I can track your car except me, or that I lied about your phone being off.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “How angry is Dragon?”
“I’m not sure angry is the word. He yelled something about a morning after pill to Griz, and then your dad hit him. I think he’s more shocked than anything.” Outlaw sighed. “Look, I get it. Running seemed like the best option, but you need to come home. Grizzly is losing his damn mind.”
“Please don’t tell him where I am, Outlaw. I need some time. I was trying to find the Reckless Kings, hoping they’d let me stay there a few days at least. Maybe my dad will cool off by then, and it will give Dragon time to…” I wasn’t sure what it would give him time to do. He’d told me to get that pill. I’d known he didn’t want me to end up pregnant, even when I’d said I didn’t think I could. Well, it seemed that I could and I did. If he didn’t want kids, then I wouldn’t force him to be part of my child’s life, but I wouldn’t give up my baby.
“You’re putting me in a sticky spot, Lilian.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m not ready to face either of them. I know my dad is mad because Shella made it seem like Dragon forced himself on me, but he didn’t. When he gets angry, he doesn’t always listen, and I need him to hear me when I talk to him.” Or I could just keep running and never go back.
“I’ll text you the location of the Reckless Kings, but their Pres is probably going to call Griz the second you get there. I’m not sure how much of a safe haven it will be for you.”
“Thank you, Outlaw.”
Praise for Dragon – What are ARC readers saying?
“I’ve got a girl crush! Lil is just amazing, sweet, fierce, and strong! She is by far my favorite so far. Harley Wylde always leaves me wishing she could write even faster. This is definitely in the reread pile…”
— 5 Stars from Korivee, BookBub Review
“I absolutely loved this book. While it was a little darker then the rest of the books. I loved that. Sometimes darker is a good thing. It gives you a different way of the story. I loved Dragon but at the same time I wanted to smack some sense into him. I loved Lilian and Dragon for each other. I totally recommend this book for all to read.”
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley‘s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
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