In the heat and oilfields, John and his pals believe a rock concert is the
answer to theirdiscontent, never realizing the trip will transform them forever—if
they survive it.
In 1966, John Pierce and his friends are discontented teens shackled by
life in a West Texas oilfield boomtown. As they swelter in summer heat amid
thousands of oil wells, desperation creeps in.
When news of an electrifying rock concert captures their hearts, they leave
on a quest for music, girls, and self-indulgence. No one warned them about
the nightmarish occurrences they could face on their dream trip.
Based on a true adventure in an out-of-the-ordinary setting, THE CONCERT is
an unforgettable exploration of friendships and dangers looming along the
stepping stones to adulthood.
About the Author
Lawson McDowell was almost born in the backseat of a Buick, but after a
wild ride through the wheat fields near Dodge City, Kansas, they arrived at
the hospital in the nick of time. That was in 1950. It seems Lawson has been
in a hurry ever since.
When he was five, his family moved to Texas, establishing roots in the
small town of Andrews, where his father worked in the oil industry. Lawson
grew up with rattlesnakes, cowboys, and roustabouts in the rough-and-tumble
oil boom years of the 50s and 60s.
After graduation from Texas Tech University, Lawson went to work for
Southern Pacific Railroad. He advanced through the ranks, eventually leading
operations in Los Angeles, Tucson, and Kansas City. At the corporate level,
he served as director of safety in Denver and, for a time, chaired the
Association of American Railroads Safety Section in Washington. D. C.
Lawson attended executive classes at the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology. While MIT upgraded his skills, he developed a love for Boston
and the Red Sox.
After serving many years as Director of Network Operations for Union
Pacific, Lawson is now enjoying retirement with his greatest passion, his
wife, Virginia. You can contact Lawson through his website at http://www.LawsonMcDowell.com
Her fate is to fight. Hes sick of seeing death. When their potent chemistry
ignites a powerful alliance, will they risk love in the face of peril?
If you like slow-burn relationships, intriguing magic, and engrossing mystical settings, then you’ll adore Tyger Price’s thrilling adventure.
Excerpt
“You know, he called me a rogue.”
Adianna gave him a questioning look.
The healer tapped his temple. “One of the quirks of being a healer.” He motioned to where the pygmy had retreated. “I can hear dragon talk. Apparently even of types I have never seen before.”
Adianna nodded. They walked in silence for a short way. Then she glanced sideways at him. “And are you?”
The healer’s brow furrowed as he came to a stop. “Am I what?”
Adianna looked askance at him, with a twinkle in her eye, trying to hide a smile, “A rogue?”
He chuckled, glancing at the ground at nothing in particular. Then he looked up innocently. “No, ma’am.”
She arched an eyebrow at him.
His smile widened. “At least not today.”
About the Author
Tyger Price, a homeschooling author/mother of ten, writes steamy-clean YA Fantasy – letting joy lead.
She just can’t bring herself to grow up; she just won’t do it! Being naturally drawn to children, she hopes people aren’t offended if she talks to their kids before speaking with them. She doesn’t mean it as a slight. She just can’t help it. She considers herself a “recovering addict” where babies are concerned and with ten children of her own, it is no wonder.
Being a native of the land of dreams and imagination, she strives to fill her life with joy while checking things off her ‘apoca-list.’ She loves tigers and butterflies and specializes in steamy-clean romances that make your knees quiver. Still, she goes where the joy and the story leads, delving into fantasy, mystery and adventure with expert precision.
Homeschooling a gaggle of kids keeps her reaching for her notebook or camera – writing down funny things they say and recording their many zany adventures. If there are quiet moments, she enjoys cuddles, sunshine and the scent of vanilla.
It was cold and rainy, with low visibility. A perfect morning for sabotage.
The company jet carrying a Senior VP mysteriously crashes shortly after
taking off from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport.
The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) says it was an accident.
The victim’s wife says it was murder. Frank Adams, an independent
aviation accident investigator has been hired to find out. Mounting evidence
and an additional murder convince Adams that there was indeed foul play.
As what seemed to be disparate events become increasingly linked, Frank
reveals a crime of international dimensions. Accustomed to working
independently, Frank is forced to call on the help of an old girlfriend as
well as a retired DC cop. But unraveling the truth could cost him his life
as well as the lives of his friends.
About the Author
A retired Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, Daniel V. Meier, Jr. has
always had a passion for writing. During his college years, he studied
History at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington (UNCW) and American
Literature at The University of Maryland Graduate School. In 1980 he
published an Action/Thriller, Mendosa’s Treasure with Leisure Books
under the pen name of Vince Daniels.
He worked briefly for the Washington Business Journal as a journalist and
has been a contributing writer/editor for several aviation magazines.
Guidance to Death is a return to a favorite genre of his,
Action/Thriller/with the added intrigue of Murder/Mystery.
Other books by Dan are Blood Before Dawn, the sequel to the award-winning
novel, The Dung Beetles of Liberia. Bloodroot, also an Historical novel is
about the Jamestown settlement in the early 1600’s and No Birds Sing
Here, is a work of Satirical Literary Fiction.
Dan and his wife live in Owings, Maryland, about twenty miles south of
Annapolis and when he’s not writing, they spend their summers sailing on the
Chesapeake Bay.
Rory McEntyre is a lonely trusts & estates attorney who plays the hero
inside video games. Then, his old flame, Monica, walks into his office with
a $60 million winning lottery ticket and a world of trouble.
Monica’s husband, Tom, is dead, apparently from a self-inflicted
gunshot. A homicide detective considers Monica a suspect, so Rory must be
her criminal lawyer. Thugs from Tom’s shady business think Monica has
incriminating evidence Tom stole from the company, so Rory must be her
protector. Most importantly, Rory must be Monica’s private detective,
because the winning lottery ticket is missing. As Monica and Rory search for
the ticket, their relationship heats up well beyond attorney and client.
Rory has the chance to win the girl of his dreams, but does he have what it
takes to be a real hero? And is Monica everything he wants to believe she
is? If he’s not careful, Rory could end up like Tom – a Dead
Winner.
Dead Winner is ON SALE for $0.99 May 15 to May 19!
About the Author
Kevin G. Chapman is an attorney specializing in labor and employment law and an independent author. His Mike Stoneman Thriller series, includes Lethal Voyage, Winner of the Kindle Book Award, and Fatal Infraction, the #1 Police Procedural of the year (Chanticleer Book Review CLUE Award). Kevin’s latest is a stand-alone mystery/suspense/romance called Dead Winner. Kevin has also written a serious political drama, A Legacy of One (2016) and is currently working on two new mystery/thrillers due out in 2022 and 2023. Kevin is a resident of Central New Jersey and is a graduate of Columbia College and Boston University School of Law. Readers can contact Kevin via his website at http://www.KevinGChapman.com.
Bellarose — My drive to my new job didn’t go as planned. Me and my
“photographic memory” got lost, ending up on a private road in
the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Worse, I got a flat. And it was getting
dark. When a dangerous, sexy biker stops to help, I’m not sure if
I’m fortunate or not. Double that when I find myself mashed against
said dangerous, sexy biker with him kissing me like he wants to devour me.
Then things get really weird.
Atlas — I’m in so much trouble. Not only in the girl in my care the
most enchanting woman I’ve ever encountered, she’s the daughter
of one of the richest men in the world who happens to also be one third of
the Shadow Demons. Which means, that kiss I stole might have signed my death
warrant. Every instinct I have is telling me I need to call in my brothers
to get her out and end the operation I’ve been deeply embedded in for
months. But my little hellion has other ideas. I just hope we haven’t
waited too long. If I have, we’re both dead.
WARNING: Graphic violence, adult situations, and references to human
trafficking and domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers. Happy
ending and, as always, no cheating.
What a fucking mess. This fucking club in Terre Haute was rotten to the
fucking core. I knew enough about it to make it implode with all the secret
deals going on inside, but I hadn’t been given the go ahead from
Sting, our president. Iron Tzars was an old MC, dating back to World War II.
Back then, they’d been off-the-radar Nazi hunters. Meaning, they
killed any they found and didn’t ask permission from anyone to do it.
Now we hunt down pedophiles and human trafficking rings. Occasionally we
infiltrate domestic terrorist organizations, but most of those are on the
government radar, and we let the FBI and ATF do their thing. This bunch,
however…
They were as sadistic a bunch as I’d ever seen. Not only did they
have their hands into the obligatory guns and drugs, the women and girls
they took weren’t trafficked. Oh no. They kept them. Used them. It had
put me in a tenuous position because I couldn’t keep my cover at the
expense of innocents. With the help of my brothers at Iron Tzars, I’d
managed to pull all of the underaged girls out — there weren’t many,
thank God. There were two other women still in the compound. One was happy
to be there. Said so herself as she took one man after another with a smile
on her face. The other one… wasn’t in good enough shape to
express her wishes.
That had been two months ago. Nothing had changed except I’d gotten
the leader of this bunch to leave the unwilling woman alone. It
wouldn’t last long, though. The willing woman was fast becoming an
unwilling woman. Which meant I’d run out of time.
I drove down the road back to the compound. The bike I was on was an older
chopper, but it was still a Harley, if heavily customized. It wasn’t
my own bike, but I tried to still treat it with respect. The meeting
I’d just had, the plans being put into action, had me on the extreme
edge. Which was likely why I nearly missed the woman crouched on her knees
beside a new-model Ford on the side of the road.
I swerved, and I thought I heard her scream. Pulling over to the side of
the road, I looked back over my shoulder. She was flat on her ass, gasping
for breath. When she glanced in my direction, she scrambled to her feet and
snagged the tire iron next to the car, holding it like a baseball bat.
With a scowl, I turned the bike around and drove the hundred feet or so
back to her car before stopping and shutting it off.
“Did I hit you?” Despite my worries, I never wanted to hurt an
innocent. The mere fact I hadn’t seen her until I was right on top of
her showed how distracted I’d been. A mistake like that could get me
killed in this fucking club.
“I — I…”
“Come on, girl! Are you hurt?” I snarled the question like a
demand. Which it was. She took a step backward and rounded the back of the
vehicle, putting the car between me and her.
“Don’t come any closer! I know how to use this!”
I couldn’t help but snort. “That thing probably weighs more
than you do. Now, tell me if I hit you with the bike, li’l
bit.”
She shook her head slightly. “No.”
I glanced at the driver’s-side rear tire. Sure enough, it was flat.
“Do you need help?” Again, she shook her head but didn’t
relax one bit. I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my beard. I didn’t need
this. Not now. “Look. We got off on the wrong foot. I shouldn’t
have snarled at you. I didn’t think I’d hit you, but even if
I’d clipped you, you could have been hurt. It scared me as much as I
scared you. Now. Are you sure you’re OK?” I tried to soften my
tone when it wasn’t my nature. Women usually looked at my size, tats,
beard, and muscles and ran straight into my arms, begging for a hard
fucking. I had no interest in any woman who didn’t.
“I’m fine.”
I barked out a laugh. “I hate it when women do that, girl.
You’re not fine. I scared you to death.”
“It’s all right. You said it scared you too.” Her voice
was soft and lyrical, wrapping around my insides like silken ties. What the
fuck was wrong with me? I wasn’t hard up for female companionship. In
fact, until I’d been planted in this fucking club, I’d had a
different woman practically every night. More than one sometimes. Now, a
little bit of timid innocence was burrowing inside me within a few seconds?
Fuck…
“Not the point.” I raised my open hands in a non-threatening
gesture. “At least let me change your tire. Can I come
closer?”
Finally, she lowered the tire iron slowly. “I suppose so. If
you’re sure you don’t mind.” She was so small I had doubts
she could hold the damned thing for much longer anyway.
“I don’t mind at all. It’s the least I can do for nearly
running you over. Besides, I don’t leave women alone to fend for
themselves. No matter how much they don’t trust me.” I’d
meant the last to be a small joke. To lighten the mood. Because the fear on
her face in the fading light hit me viscerally. I didn’t like her
thinking I’d hurt her or meant her ill will. That was the last thing I
wanted after what I’d been through the last few months.
“I appreciate the help.”
I knelt by the car, positioning the jack properly before inserting the jack
handle and cranking to raise the car. “What are you doing on this
road? It’s pretty out of the way. Not many folks live around
here.” Because the club I was currently embedded in kept everyone out
of their territory through terror and destruction.
“I got turned around,” she said as she squatted beside me,
holding the lug wrench at the ready. “I realized I was in the wrong
place when the road went from four lanes to two. I don’t remember
passing another road, but I might have missed it.”
“Where you headed?”
About the Author
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka
Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and
totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination
since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout
her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and
irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
Private Investigator Rebecca Marte doubted it. Since when would the president and CEO of a highly successful company find the criticisms of his subordinates so destructive to his self-image that he would commit suicide? That, however, was what her new client, Nicole Veles, claimed.
Nicole painted a toxic, if not criminal, picture of defamation leading up
to the man’s death. His problems were more than just the company’s bottom line. They ranged from public ridicule of some of his out-of-date marketing concepts that had been leaked to the press to a police report from a young man who claimed the president and CEO had propositioned him. And after his demise, one of his most vocal detractors ascended to his position. That was enough to raise Rebecca’s suspicions. She took the job.
But as she began her investigation, hints that Nicole’s beliefs were tainted by her history became difficult for Rebecca to ignore. Two years earlier, Nicole had been kidnapped, and she still bore the mental and emotional scars of abuse and captivity. She’d cut all connections to her friends and fled her past by relocating to Colorado where no one knew her. She took a job where long-term relationships were impossible, save one stubborn older woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer—and who just happened to be the wife of the suicide victim
While everyone else thought the man’s death, while tragic, was just the consequence of high-pressure business and depression over the loss of the company he had founded, could Rebecca trust anything to the contrary that her new client told her?
“Tension is well-developed, whether it’s psychological revelations that involve Rebecca more deeply in her client’s life than she’d imagined, the wedge between client and investigator driven home by the victim’s wife, or the probe of a business structure that supports dangerous undercurrents.”
-Midwest Book Review
About the Author
Until ten years ago, I was a human factors psychologist doing research on cutting edge technologies like virtual reality and artificial intelligence at a major aerospace company. The aim? Fit these technologies to the way people learn, remember, and do their jobs, not the other way around. But if the world can be shaped to work with us, it can just as surely be molded to destroy us.
Now, I’m an author writing “The Mind Sleuth Series”, stories where the evil side of research and science too often surface. Sometimes the devastation is unintentional. Sometimes, it’s motivated by greed or passion, but it’s always a race to see if and how my heroes—Doc, Nicole, Rebecca—can turn the tide.
For special features, giveaways, and previews of my upcoming books, subscribe to my newsletter at brucemperrin.com.
War is upon them — armies are clashing at their doorstep. Ulvissar’s
heat is becoming uncontrollable, and tension between him and Nithe is higher
than ever before.
With his Dragon Lord and her new mate leading his warriors, will Ulvissar
be able to destroy those who would betray them, and will Nithe be strong
enough to claim both the title of Dragon Master and his Ulvissar? How can
anyone withstand the wrath of an angry omega dragon?
Publisher’s Warning: How Not To Date a Dragon Master contains scenes of
graphic violence and adult kink with blood play that may be triggers for
some readers.
The wind blew bitter cold on the overcast early morning when Prince Ranid
the Bold and his army rolled into town, and it matched the attitude of the
people. The few men who were left in the ranks watched the bedraggled and
exhausted inhabitants stagger toward their town’s entrance, while the
sounds of their war horses’ shoes loudly striking the dirt-covered
cobblestones encouraged a lone hound to throw back its head and howl
mournfully at the still present moon.
The few lights glowed enough to illuminate the remains of a once prosperous
town now fallen into ruin. A lone, sickly-looking goat bleated as it
wandered through, its dented bell clanking miserably in the night air while
a lone owl hooted in the distance.
The place smelled of neglect and misuse. Most of the buildings that
surrounded the courtyard and what looked to be the center of town appeared
derelict, missing windows, wood siding sliding off of their sides, paint so
old and weatherworn that it looked like it hadn’t been refreshed in
years.
Prince Ranid the Bold, on his once proud white steed, stood up in the
stirrups and declared for all to hear, “What a fucking
dump.”
“Well, fuck you too, asshole!” a drunk leaning on a pole
outside of the town’s only tavern called out. “Fuck you and the
horse you rode in on.”
That gave the whole army pause before a tall, black-haired, green-eyed
man’s laugh barked out, startling the few who wore his bright red
colors before they began to chuckle as well.
“What?” The green-eyed Prince Colton of Rinastas called to the
other disgusted prince’s soldiers. “Out here with no resources
but what little nature has left, you expected to find a lavish palace fit
for your royal ass?” He shook his head, amusement plain in every line
of his body. “This is war, boy. No one is going to be around to hold
your hand or wipe Your Highness’s backside for you. The people who
live in this area make do with what they have.”
“And who do these people hold loyalty to?” Prince Ranid
demanded, settling back into his saddle, his face slightly red because yes,
he expected some sort of accommodation for the royals at least. He
didn’t expect this place to be so… desolate.
“I believe they pay a once a year tax to the people of the Eastern
Kingdoms — the missing princess’s kingdom — and then they are
largely left alone. This is dragon territory after all,” Prince Colton
explained. “No one has a real hold on it but because part of it
scrapes against the princess’s kingdom, it is to her people that these
hard-working individuals pay their taxes and what little tribute they can
give.”
“No way.” Ranid rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and pouting
like a child as he absorbed what Colton was telling him. “The kingdom
renowned for its beauty wouldn’t let a place like this exist and
tarnish their good name. This is a disgrace.”
From beside him on his own warhorse, Lord Petyr of The Eastern Kingdoms
shook his head in embarrassment. How had he ever found the loud, obnoxious,
and abrasive prince beautiful? Things had cooled significantly since he
started seeking his own privacy and comfort in the bold red tent that Prince
Colton had lent him. Sure, he was no longer in the man’s bed but
anyone would think about waiting a full five minutes before another filled
Petyr’s former position there. And Petyr knew from personal experience
that when Ranid was distracted or angry, the whole act would take about five
minutes… from start to finish.
“If you say so.” Colton snickered to himself, unwilling to
engage the spoiled brat of a prince in any type of intellectual debate. As
far as this asshole was concerned, if something wasn’t up to his
ridiculous standards, then he would most likely dismiss it, and Colton was
not up for this kind of stupidity. He could be back at his tent getting some
shut-eye after a long and tedious… in every way imaginable…
campaign march. He was tired, his ass hurt for all the wrong reasons, and
now his head was starting to hurt as well from listening to the bitching and
griping of the brat prince. The only amusement he’d found during this
whole rush to an ass kicking was the delightfully sarcastic Lord
Petyr.
The man was pretty, though his downcast eyes and guilty expression
detracted from that somewhat. The man did know his mind though, and only
consented to be abused a short time before, with some encouraging words, he
struck out on his own. He was intelligent and sharp as he offered several
pride-protecting alternatives to the idiot prince as they traveled that
would allow him to pull out of his stupid march and still save face.
Colton’s favorite idea was to just play this was an inspection and
introduction tour to see what changes needed to be made before they reported
back to the King of the Eastern Lands.
Of course, Rancid the Bol — Ranid… Ranid the Bold ignored every
idea offered and was hellbent on completing his quest no matter the cost. So
far, he’d managed to lose a few tents, a few of his soldiers deserted
because of the insanity that they were surrounded by, diseases was starting
to run rampant through his men — the sexually transmitted kind of course,
because at this point the prince had more camp followers that loyal soldiers
— and he was losing the best aide-de-camp that Colton had ever seen.
Filled with righteous indignation, Ranid dismounted his tired horse with a
huff and led the poor beast to what appeared to be an inn and tethered him
to the post out front.
Petyr and Colton also dismounted and followed the upstart prince inside.
They stepped into the dim light allowed by the open shutters of what
appeared to be windows with some kind of glass. The rough wooden floors were
dusty. Goodness knows how everything in this town was not covered in dust,
but it looked like someone had tried to sweep it relatively clean. Several
long wooden bench-style tables sat in rows on either side of the room, the
bar along the back wall blocking access to what had to be a small kitchen in
the back.
“You call this place an inn?” Rancid was already ranting at a
disinterested woman who was slowly wiping down a battered bar with a dirty
rag.
“That’s what the sign used to say.” She snorted, rolling
her eyes and dropping the rag to the floor.
“Used to,” Ranid snarled, leaning on the bar… only to
jerk his hand back as it encountered what had to be the remains of
someone’s greasy dinner… or a body fluid. Who could tell?
“Used to.” The woman walked over to stand before him, her hefty
body covered in a stained smock, her arms crossed over her chest as she
stuck out her chin in an aggressive manner. “That’s what I said.
Are you fucking deaf or something?”
“Do you know who I am?” He bent closer to growl in her
face.
“No.” She leaned forward as well, growling back in his face.
“And I really don’t give a fuck who you are. Do you want
something or are you wasting my time?”
“I am the prince of your kingdom and I demand respect.”
“No,” the woman shook her head, a sardonic look spreading
across her face. “Our kingdom doesn’t have any princes, unless
you count the assholes that the princesses are supposed to marry. And you
didn’t demand my respect, you demanded my utmost attention and
you’re not worth my time… which you aren’t going to
get.”
About the Author
Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning
author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.
From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually
confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to
pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do
more.
Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and
world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts,
an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing
cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied
legends and theories to improve her writing skills.
Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female
characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and
multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.
Her fate is to fight. Hes sick of seeing death. When their potent chemistry ignites a powerful alliance, will they risk love in the face of peril?
If you like slow-burn relationships, intriguing magic, and engrossing mystical settings, then you’ll adore Tyger Price’s thrilling adventure.
About the Author
Tyger Price, a homeschooling author/mother of ten, writes steamy-clean YA Fantasy – letting joy lead.
She just can’t bring herself to grow up; she just won’t do it! Being naturally drawn to children, she hopes people aren’t offended if she talks to their kids before speaking with them. She doesn’t mean it as a slight. She just can’t help it. She considers herself a “recovering addict” where babies are concerned and with ten children of her own, it is no wonder.
Being a native of the land of dreams and imagination, she strives to fill her life with joy while checking things off her ‘apoca-list.’ She loves tigers and butterflies and specializes in steamy-clean romances that make your knees quiver. Still, she goes where the joy and the story leads, delving into fantasy, mystery and adventure with expert precision.
Homeschooling a gaggle of kids keeps her reaching for her notebook or camera – writing down funny things they say and recording their many zany adventures. If there are quiet moments, she enjoys cuddles, sunshine and the scent of vanilla.
The town of Marysburg, Indiana, is buzzing with excitement when legendary British blues guitarist Derek Tufnell appears at Marysburg Music to sign autographs and chat with fans the afternoon before a performance at the Marysburg Center for the Performing Arts. The meet-and-greet session is a huge success and record store owner Darcy Gaughan couldn’t be more pleased with how the event went.
Darcy’s glee turns to despair when, only hours later, Derek is found murdered in his dressing room. Fingers are pointed at her, since she was the last one seen with him. In order to keep her freedom, and the record store open, Darcy begins her own investigation and soon finds the number of suspects is exceeded only by the number of hit songs in Derek’s music catalog.
About the Author
J.C. Kenney is the Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo bestselling author of The Allie Cobb Mysteries and The Darcy Gaughan Mysteries. He’s also the co-host of The Bookish Hour webcast. His debut, A Literal Mess, was a
finalist for a Muse Medallion from the Cat Writers’ Association in mystery fiction. When he’s not writing, you can find him following IndyCar racing or listening to music. He has two grown children and lives in Indianapolis with his wife and a cat. You can find him at http://www.jckenney.com.
Darien Francis and Richard Li meet during a bank robbery, but she’s afraid to love again.
Shane Kenniston and Beth Parker are reacquainted years after she had a crush on him, but she is a recent widow, and Shane’s life was upended by a false accusation.
David Early and Kate Howard meet in the laundromat, but her life is consumed by the needs of her disabled child, and David isn’t ready for the responsibility.
Realtor Frank Ellison meets Kayla Barnes at an open house, but a mistaken first impression derails any chance of romance.
Can they all overcome the obstacles to love?
Excerpt
When she finally stopped crying, he asked, “Do you want to tell me about him?”
“No.” She backed away from him and searched her pockets for a tissue, but of course at this moment, of all times, she didn’t have one. He did, though—a whole box stood on the coffee table—and he gave her one, and she blew her nose. Her mascara was running, and her face must be blotchy and red. “This is so humiliating,” she said. “I never do this. I feel like such an idiot.”
“Why? It’s perfectly natural. I’m glad to know you’re not so tough.”
“It’s unprofessional, and it makes me feel ugly. It’s a good thing you’re not attracted to me.”
“What?”
She peered at him, sniffling, and dabbed at her eyes. “You’re not, are you?”
“Which answer will get me in the least trouble?” he asked.
She laughed shakily. She felt a lot better. “If you were before, you wouldn’t be now.” He gave her another tissue, and she managed to get most of the mascara off. He rubbed away a stray smudge with his thumb, and his fingers brushed her cheek. The soft touch was even more comforting than being held in his arms. She closed her eyes.
He kissed her. It was the briefest pressure of his lips against hers, gentle and sweet, but she felt it deep inside. She opened her eyes. His were wide with surprise. “I think we just went off the clock,” she said.
About the Author
Linda Griffin is a native of San Diego and has a BA in English from San Diego State University and an MLS from UCLA. She retired as fiction librarian for the San Diego Public Library in order to spend more time on her writing. Her stories have been published in numerous journals including,
Eclectica, Thema Literary Review, and The Avalon Literary Review. Reluctant Hearts is her sixth romance book from the Wild Rose Press, after Seventeen Days (2018), The Rebound Effect (2019), Guilty Knowledge (2020), Love, Death, and the Art of Cooking (2021), and Bridges (2022). In addition to the three R’s—reading, writing, and research—she enjoys movies, Scrabble, and travel.
