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“The path to peace is full of wars just as the path of love is full of pain.”

Fay Newman is about to start college, a new chapter of her life—a way to reinvent the nature lover and unsociable introvert she has always been.

However, when she saves her roommate’s life in a way that no human could, she finds more than she bargained for when she is thrown in the midst of kingdoms’ wars, blood feuds, forbidden love, and forgotten promises.

With the fate of humanity hanging in the balance, Fay tries to navigate her new reality, with friends and foes being closer than she realizes. When nothing is as it seems, she doesn’t know who or what to trust until taking up the weapon to fight is all that’s left.

Any choices available to her will ultimately lead to sacrifices. Fay must figure out what she is ready to sacrifice—her heart, her soul, or even…her life.

R.G Angel is a trained lawyer, world traveler, coffee addict, cheese aficionado, avid book reviewer and blogger.

She considers herself as an 'Eclectic romantic' and wants to write romance in sub-genre she can think of.

When she is not busy doing all her lawyerly mayhem, and because she is living in rainy Britain, she mostly enjoys indoor activities such as reading, watching TV, playing with her crazy puppy and writing stories she hopes will make you dream.

If you want to know when R.G.'s next book will come out, or what signing she will be attending please follow her Facebook page.

“Fay, stop it” He let out with a sigh of weariness, reaching for me from across the table but I was out of reach. He rested his slander, delicate hand on the table. His fingers were long and his skin paled, unmarred by any blemish. It was hard to imagine these hands in the heat of passion fucking a woman as powerfully as he said. 

I looked up and met his hypnotic eyes, looking at me with such wonder and a hint of something I couldn’t really decipher. 

“I have time for you, always” He added with a small smile. 

“Why? 

“Because it’s you.” He replied so softly that it thawed a little of my irritation. 

“You have to stop being mean.” I chided. “This is not okay,”

“But she was -” 

I shook my head. “It doesn't matter, she wanted to try her luck so what? It may not have been the most appropriate place but she didn’t do anything wrong and it didn’t warrant your reaction.” 

“If you dislike me so much, why are you even bothering with me?” he asked coldly and even if his face looked hard, I didn’t miss the glass of hurt in his eyes. 

“I don’t...dislike you.” I replied tentatively. It was true though, I didn’t. I let out a startled laugh. “God help me. I think I even like you.”

He arched his eyebrows, and I saw his tensed shoulder relax under his dressed shirt. 

“I liked the caring, nice Gareth I see when you’re with me. But, I have a hard time with this version of Gareth - the dismissive, mean Gareth.” I cocked my head to the side. “I don’t like him very much and I have a hard time reconciling both sides of you.” I admitted truthfully.

He took a deep breath. “That’s fair. Please, stay.” And I could see yet again he was not the kind of man to ask for anything. He was demanding and this simple request mollified me a little more.

He’s her knight in shining armor. Only she’s no damsel in distress.

Wyatt
I’m a self-made billionaire with a soft spot for damsels in distress, so when I move to the quirky lakeside community of Summerdale, I immediately zero in on the woman I most want to…ahem, rescue. Only the stubborn woman refuses to cooperate.

Sydney
When Satan, aka Wyatt Winters, moves to town, I do my best to be welcoming. After all, I’m the owner of the historic restaurant and bar that he keeps showing up at, despite criticizing nearly everything about it. Deep breath. I might’ve lost my cool and made a rude gesture in his direction. And told him off. How was I to know he was considering investing in my place?

Did I mention I’m in debt up to my eyeballs and every bank has turned me down?

Still, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’d ever work with him. Or admit he fires me up in every way.

And then a snowstorm traps us together and—

I’m melting.

This romantic comedy stands alone with a swoonworthy happy-ever-after! No cliffhangers.

NOTE: A portion of Fetching’s book sales will go to Pets for Vets, a nonprofit that trains shelter dogs to be therapy companions for military veterans with PTSD.

Unleashed Romance Series
Fetching (Book 1)
Dashing (Book 2)
Sporting (Book 3)
Toying (Book 4)
Blazing (Book 5)

Kylie Gilmore is the USA Today bestselling author of the Unleashed Romance series, the Rourkes series, the Happy Endings Book Club series, the Clover Park series, and the Clover Park STUDS series. She writes humorous romance that makes you laugh, cry, and reach for a cold glass of water.

Kylie lives in New York with her family, two cats, and a nutso dog. When she’s not writing, reading hot romance, or dutifully taking notes at writing conferences, you can find her flexing her muscles all the way to the high cabinet for her secret chocolate stash.

Sydney

Wyatt catches my eye. “Appetizers are good.”

Pleased that he finally said something positive about my place, I close the distance, stopping at his table. “Glad you’re enjoying them.”

He leans back in his chair. “Have you ever thought of upgrading the dinner menu?”

My temper flares, but I manage to keep a civil tone. “No. Locals love it.”

“Not saying it’s bad, just unoriginal. I mean, every meal comes with either French fries or baked potato. A new chef might bring some life to the place. Isn’t that what tonight’s fundraiser’s all about? Keeping this place open?” He taps the table. “With the right management, a better chef, this place has potential.”

I manage this place, and the chef is a family friend. I bare my teeth. “Seems you know a lot about the restaurant business.”

“Not at all. I just appreciate a good one.”

I jam my hands on my hips and glare at him. Obviously he thinks we’re a bad one! I’m so furious I can’t even speak.

He cocks his head. “Cindy, are you cross with me?”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I snap. “Coming in here and insulting my place left and right! If you don’t like it, don’t come back.”

He arches a brow. “Since you own the place, maybe we could talk about some serious improvements. You don’t know what you don’t know, am I right?”

I bristle. “This place was my great-grandfather’s, passed down the generations, and now it’s mine.” I leave out that Drew is the one who actually inherited it and declared it a lost cause because of the debt dragging it down. I took it over rather than let him sell it. “It’s an institution in this town, and we’re doing just fine without your city snark. How dare you walk in here and spew your judgment over all of us!”

He smirks. “I don’t recall spewing.”

My heartbeat roars in my ears, anger clouding all good reason. I desperately want to smack that smirk off his face.

He gestures to his ale, which he barely touched. “I didn’t like this one. Could I get one of those local Connecticut ales you mentioned?”

I stare at his glass of ale. I want to throw it in his face and watch his shock as it drips down his beard, fancy sport coat, and dress shirt.

He chuckles. “That’s an evil look in your eye, Cindy. You’re thinking about dumping this drink on my head, aren’t you?”

How did he know? “Not at all,” I lie.

He leans close and smirks. “I dare you.”

An ancient war, a tenuous truce, a delicate balance.

Sounds ominous right?

It is.

The tri-pack collective has existed for centuries—three dire wolf packs bound to the most powerful coven in the world through a single witch born under the thirteenth sign of the zodiac.

Through this covenant they keep an ancient threat unlike any other at bay.

At the next blood moon, I’ll be that witch—bound to the three leaders of the dire wolf packs. Responsible for keeping the peace.

That is If I make it to the blood moon alive, because someone is trying to kill me.

Now the hot-headed wolves are going to have to work together to make sure our inventive little murderer doesn’t succeed.

And me?

Well, I don’t take kindly to being targeted, so whoever’s gunning for me better watch out, because they just became the hunted.

An Urban Fantasy Romance filled with witches, shifters, warlocks, Gargoyles, Ghosts and Vampires.

Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband.
Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden.

Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head - in a totally non psychotic way of course.
She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.

Rhyker, tattooed bad boy and lethal jaguar shifter, falls for the sweet and caring healer, Keena. Except, she’s determined to keep him in the friend zone… good thing he’s a predator that enjoys the hunt.

Together, can they heal their past and forge a future bonded with true love?

SECOND BOOK IN THE ORION’S ORDER SERIES

Orion’s Order returns in another addictive installment about their secret world of magic and mystery. A world where the most powerful words in the Universe are discovered in the fight against an ancient evil force.

KEENA OLIVER
I am haunted by my past mistakes. Mistakes that I have no idea how I even made. I am an educated mind and spirit healer after all. So how in the holy healer hell did I end up in a relationship where the male who I thought I loved…
Yeah, it’s probably best not to rehash those nightmares. But if I don’t dare open up that box to my past, then how am I ever going to be able to move on? Especially because I so want to move on with a certain sexy male. A male whose lips devoured mine in a darkened corner that one time. A male whose predatory piercing blue eyes practically track my every move. A male who I shouldn’t be fantasizing about every second of every day. Why? Because it would ruin me.

RHYKER KINGSLEY
I’ve had my eye on a certain female for almost a year now. A female who is damn determined to keep me in the friend zone. A female who’s been hurt by her ex but refuses to open up to me about it. So, you could say I go through a lot of smokes… a f*cking lot.

Meanwhile, my pack of lethally trained and skilled hunters and I are gunning for an evil SOB who not only signed his death warrant the second he tried to come after my pack sister and mate to our alpha, but also the f*cker poses a threat to our world as we know it. Yet, said ancient powerful bastard has gone off the grid and is all but impossible to track.

Oh, and did I mention that the past seems to be mixing with the present? I mean, the f*ck is this? The revenge year of the shitty exes?

So, excuse me while I light up a smoke… or two.

Devour this addictive series at your own risk…
+ Happily Ever After
+ Sexy Paranormal Jaguar Shifter Romance
+ Multiple POV
+ Mature Content
+ This series is meant to be read in order for the best reading experience
———————————————-
RHYKER’S KEY is an adult paranormal jaguar shifter romance. If you like swoon-worthy males, heroines with feminine strength, an engaging plot, satisfying relationships, steamy love stories, happy ever afters, and getting sucked into a supernatural story, then you’ll want to immerse yourself in the world of species!

M.C. Solaris’s life took an unexpected turn during the super blood moon eclipse on January 20, 2019. She woke up and began writing bios for her imaginary friends that she met that day. As soon as the pen hit the paper (or fingertips to the iPhone), she couldn’t stop. It was kind of like one of those fire hydrants, spewing copious amounts of water all over the place. The characters and their stories just flowed out of her. She is honored to be the scribe, getting to share her friends’ stories. You can read all about her gifted friends in the Orion’s Order series (Book 1 is Calypso’s Heart).

On a personal note, M.C. Solaris is actually the pseudonym of Marina Schroeder, women’s health enthusiast and lover of all things paranormal romance (PNR) and happily ever after (HEA). When she is not curled up on the sofa with her partner’s oversized hoodie, a PNR novel, peppermint tea, and one of her three cats, you will find her either at the ocean with her toes in the sand or in a forest hugging a tree. Well truthfully? There is one more place you might find her: trolling the aisles of Whole Foods for a satisfying combination of salty and sweet while hiding in her partner’s hoodie… like any proper PNR-writing introvert.

Want to get the latest scoop, sneak peeks, and short shares all about her imaginary friends? Go to www.mcsolaris.com and sign up for the newsletter. Welcome to The Order!

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, unsure where that question was coming from.

“I can feel otherwise but I won’t push.”

He cursed under his breath. Of course she could feel his lethal mood and the emotional storm he had been trying to keep at bay regarding the whole fucked-up Cecille situation. He set all of that aside and focused fully on Keena. Lately, she was the only thing that was helping to get his mind off the past.

“It’s just our case,” he added in a tone that was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else.

She nodded. “Understood. I’m here if you want to talk.”

“What if I don’t want to talk?” he drawled, pressing in close to her and sliding his hand to the nape of her neck.

Her lips parted at the close contact. Suddenly, all she could feel was the heated desire between them. He leaned down and claimed her mouth in a slow, smoldering kiss that took her breath away. “Rhyker.” Her voice was a little breathy.

“Yeah?” He playfully nipped at her lower lip.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she went in for the kiss and it was anything but slow. She slid her tongue against his and, suddenly, she had her legs wrapped around him with her back pressed up against the wall. He broke the kiss only to move his mouth to her neck. Her hands drifted through his thick and silky black strands as she moaned. The sensual sensations of his tongue on her neck and his body against hers shot through her body and straight to the apex of her thighs.

“Wait,” she managed to get out with just barely more than an exhalation of air. She knew that if she didn’t stop this soon then she wouldn’t have the strength to stop this from going any further. She wanted it to go further—a lot further, but she also wanted to take things slow.

He immediately halted and looked at her in a way that let her know she was in complete control of how far this went.

She could see the fiery desire in his now glowing, piercing blue eyes. “I want us to take this slow.”

His smirk was sinful. “We can go as slow as you’d like, Fire Gem.” His tongue made the slowest ascent from the curve of her neck all the way to her ear where it flicked her soft little lobe.

She shuddered.

“Is that slow enough for you?” he teased on a rough whisper.

She somehow managed to nod.

He repeated the motion. “I could lick you all day.” He smiled in satisfaction at the involuntary sound caught in the back of her throat. He slowly kissed his way back to her soft mouth and sucked on her bottom lip.

Using the last of his reserves, which were severely lacking when it came to this female, he allowed just enough space between them so she could slide down the length of his body until her feet were back on the ground. The friction and crackling desire pulsing between them had them sucking in heavy breaths.

Tara Heinz began her modeling career at the tender age of twelve. After spending fifteen years drooling over forbidden foods, she does the unthinkable. She enrolls in culinary school and becomes a pastry chef.  

After a nasty breakup with her rock star boyfriend that leads to tabloid war, Tara takes a job at a rural lodge in Oregon to escape the spotlight she no longer desires.  

James Cavanaugh is a farmer in Oregon. His days are spent building his business and his nights are spent sleeping, so he can get up at four in the morning.  

Ruby Cavanaugh has plans for her son that involve her new pastry chef. Of course, neither James nor Tara know what’s going on until it’s too late.

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

My eighty-three-year-old yoga instructor, Rupa Babu always says that when your soul is conflicted and your mind is foggy, you need to drop to the ground and immediately execute an Ardha Matsyendrasansa, or half spinal twist. Hold it for twelve minutes and then start writing—I usually write lists. She promises enlightenment will flow through your fingers and your spine will be as supple as a newborn baby’s. I could only ever hold the pose for five minutes, but I still hoped for enlightenment.    

Things I Don’t Like About Modeling
1. Being so hungry I start fantasizing about stealing a little girl’s ice cream cone and eating the whole thing before she can tell her mother. Not that I’ve ever done that, but there have been some close calls.
2.      Wearing clothes that I wouldn’t be caught dead in in real life. I cite the black jean mini skirt with an over-the-top ragged fringe hem that oddly dipped in the front making it look like I’d missed my last twenty waxing appointments. 
3.     Waxing appointments. 
4.     Jet lag.
5.      That German photographer, Helmet, who spits orders—as in literal spit flies out of his mouth, often hitting me. “Lächeln! Wende! Und nicht jetzt, diese schlampe geht nicht raus!
Translation: “Smile! Move! And inexplicably, Not now, this bitch isn’t putting out!” I’m pretty sure something got lost in translation with this one.  

Things I Like About Modeling
1.  

  Yup, pretty sure it’s time for a change.

My next door neighbor Parker Jax is not my type. He’s covered in tats, rides a motorcycle, and his parties keep me up all night. The fact he’s sexy as sin doesn’t change the fact we are oil and water.

I’m a quiet artist. He’s a rowdy marine. I’ve got a broken heart. I’m convinced he doesn’t have a heart at all.

Thankfully, my bad-boy neighbor is on leave from the Marines for only thirty days. But then the jerk has to go and show me that he has a soft side beneath all those hard muscles. He actually leaves his own party to help me, and he didn’t even have to.

Fantastic. Now I owe him.

I’m not worried, though. What are the chances he’ll need me to do anything before the month is up?

But when a woman shows up with a kid at her side, knocking on Parker’s door, it turns out those chances are pretty good…

Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at http://aliyah-burke.com/blog/contact/

She is married to a career military man, they have four Borzoi. Her days are spent sharing her time between work, writing, and dog training/showing.

“She doesn’t need any help moving wood. If it has to happen, I’ll handle it. Like I’ve been doing.”

That deep reverberating voice tore through the flimsy barrier she’d pretended she’d erected while staying away from him for the afternoon.

“And you are?” Dr. Morse asked.

“I’d be the fiancé.” Parker stared at her, looking like he just walked off some sexy tattooed man cover.

Instant heat hit her, making her knees weak and her mouth dry. It’s not fucking fair. Even now, right here, there wasn’t any way to ignore the pull he had on her. Not just on her hormones, but her.

“Interesting.” Dr. Morse reached out his hand. “Dr. Morse. I’m sorry, I had no idea Skylar was engaged.” He made a pointed look down to her left hand that was suspiciously empty of a ring.

Parker drew her close to his side, which happened to be the one of Parker’s furthest away from her doctor. His fingers flexed along her waist, but the smile never left his face. “You know Skylar, she’s not one who likes the limelight. We’re keeping it quiet until my woman here, picks a date.” Only then did he shake the man’s hand.

He kissed her temple and she stewed but kept her mouth shut. He wasn’t playing by the rules, but then, she shouldn’t have expected him to do so.

“I didn’t know you were coming to the doctor today, baby. I would have brought you.”

She forced a smile into her tone. “I thought you were busy and didn’t want to concern you. Just a checkup on my hand.”

“I see.”

Skylar had no doubt he saw far more than she wanted him to about that matter.

“We can get lunch on the way home. I had to take Mrs. O’Neary to a bridge game, so I swung by here after I dropped her off and did my physical therapy.” Parker looked back to Dr. Morse. “I’m sorry, we should get going, I’m sure you’re a busy man. Thanks for fixing up my woman.”

Not a single person in that room missed out on the utter proprietary claim Parker put on her with that statement. She swore every one of them also turned to look at them. Dr. Morse, thankfully, just gave a patented smile and pushed his hands in his lab coat.

“Just doing my job.” He dismissed Parker. “I meant what I said back there, Skylar. Take it easy. Call and set something up if it starts hurting again. Your knuckles will be sore a bit longer but at least they’re not broken.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Parker’s grip on her clamped down when she tried to move away from him. The moment they were outside, she tried once more to put some distance between them. Again, only to be denied.

She saw her truck there and reached for the driver’s door only to stop when he snorted and drew her back by him.

“Woman,” he growled. “You’re not driving. And when we’re on the way you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on that you had to get back to the doctor.”

And that way of saying woman, still had that ability to turn her into a small pile of mush.

He opened the driver’s door and lifted her to the seat.

“This is my truck,” she protested.

He cocked a black brow in her direction, a taunting smirk on his face. “Keys are down the front of my pants, want to go after them?”

Hell yes. Her grin more feral than anything. “Aren’t you afraid something down there is going to be jealous with the keys outsizing them?”

His eyes, more green than blue right now, blazed with heat.

Kylie knew Logan Grimm came with a price. She just had no idea that the price was being told what to do by the most dangerous residents of Blackwoods.

She should run and survive, but Logan’s sweet words and even sweeter kisses keep her where she is.

Right where the Big Bad Wolf lies in wait.

Janie Marie is a native Texan and resides in her hometown north of Austin, Texas, where she devotes her time to family, pets, and her writing.

Much of her life experiences--good and a lot of bad--are where she has chosen to draw inspiration from to create her characters and stories. It's important to her to create the kind of characters she needs or needed at one point in time because she wanted to create something only the saddest souls would recognize as brave and strong.

Be ready for raw, emotional tales, as Janie never holds back. With her darkest thoughts she found light is still possible, that the sad girl can sometimes glow the brightest. Because she is beauty surrounded by darkness.

Kylie blinked a few times and stared ahead. Janie was sitting across from her and Logan, and Ryder was pouring Dr Pepper into her glass. He opened a few prescription bottles, and Janie held her hand out without saying anything, waiting for him to pour a pill from each bottle. When she swallowed the last pill, she gagged a little before receiving a kiss to her forehead.

God, she really is crazy.

Logan squeezed Kylie’s leg under the table because she was staring with her mouth open.

“Have you never seen someone take medication before?” Ryder asked, his harsh tone biting at her skin.

“Babe,” said Janie the same time Logan called out, “Ryder.”

Kylie swallowed and looked at Janie, who only smiled at her. It wasn’t the smile she’d given her yesterday though. It was forced.

“She needs to stop staring at you like you’re a fucking science experiment,” Ryder said, his voice louder as Janie cooed to him.

“She’s just curious,” Janie said, but even then, she didn’t sound the same. She sounded like a small child. Ryder didn’t seem to like that.

“Curious my ass.” He glared at Kylie.

“Enough.” Logan kept his eyes trained on Ryder.

“I’m sorry,” Kylie whispered, her heart racing under Ryder’s stare. He might not be the killer, but he was willing to be.

Janie put her hand over Ryder’s as she replied, “I take medicine to help with my PTSD and other stuff. Ryder helps me remember to take them because I don’t like to. Swallowing pills bothers me now.” Janie finally smiled, but it was all for Ryder.

“It’s none of her business.” Ryder’s voice was so loud it hurt to listen to him speak.

Gawain spoke up, putting authority into his order. “Boys, you both need to relax, or we’re sending Kylie home and taking Janie away till this mess blows over.”

“It’s fine,” said Janie when Ryder let out an angry noise at the threat being issued. Janie kissed Ryder’s cheek and whispered in his ear until he turned to peck her lips. He started eating. “He just doesn’t like people staring,” Janie said when Kylie still couldn’t look away, “or judging me.”
“I wasn’t judging,” Kylie said quickly, her voice a hushed whisper while she covered Logan’s shaking hand.

“Yeah.” Janie smiled, but it was clear she didn’t believe her. “Everything’s fine, right, babe?”

Ryder grunted and stuffed more food in his mouth.

Janie returned her focus to Kylie, her eyes flashing with fire. “Sleep well?”

Kylie tensed. “I slept fine, thanks.”

Those vibrant hazel eyes stayed on her for a moment longer before shifting to Logan. He was still glaring at Ryder, which might’ve been why Janie’s tone darkened. “Logan, put yourself in his shoes. You wouldn’t like someone staring at Kylie over any of her personal issues either. You know why it bothers him, and you know why he’s really mad.”

Logan fumed as he glared between the couple but said nothing.

Janie’s eyes narrowed. “And don’t forget you’ve reacted worse when something was said to her. This is the same.”

“It’s not the same,” Logan said between clenched teeth. “She didn’t say shit about you!”

Ryder slammed his hand down on the table and stood, glaring at Logan. “No, you just opened your fucking mouth and spilled every one of her secrets.”
Logan stood up, his eyes dangerous. Kylie grabbed his hand as Janie wrapped her arms around Ryder to keep him from lunging over the table.

“I had no choice,” Logan yelled back.

“Bullshit.” Ryder carefully peeled Janie off him and nudged her over to Gawain before stepping around the table. “We made one rule, Grimm. And that was to keep our mouths shut. I warned you not to say anything. Everyone warned you.”

“Stop.” Janie tried to break free from Gawain, but she was held tightly against her brother as Logan and Ryder stood toe to toe. “Babe, please let me handle this.”

Ryder ignored her and smirked at Logan. “You’ve been good on your word this whole time—but Blondie sucks your dick, and suddenly you’re confessing like a church girl who touched herself for the first time.”

Logan swung before the gasp finished leaving her lips. He hit Ryder right in the jaw, and it was total chaos from there.

SOMETIMES IT TAKES ONE BROKEN HEART TO HEAL ANOTHER.

Courtney Winston is a writer on a deadline. Eager to finish her book and get over a recent break-up, she ditches Christmas with her family and retreats to a secluded cabin in the mountains.

Appliances rarely work, and cell service is spotty, but Courtney senses there is more to her rustic rental—something dark and haunting.

Then Peter, the attractive Stone Mountain Lodge owner, and a meddling cook, Mrs. Finn, keep coming around, shattering her peace and offering advice on how to fix her heavy heart.

Courtney grows closer to Peter, but Mrs. Finn warns her of his troubled past. Undaunted, Courtney sets out to win him over. But being with the brooding stranger may end up costing her more than she ever imagined.

Alexandrea Weis, RN-CS, PhD, is a multi-award-winning author, screenwriter, advanced practice registered nurse, and historian who was born and raised in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Having grown up in the motion picture industry as the daughter of a director, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story moving and memorable.

Weis writes romance, mystery, suspense, thrillers, supernatural, and young adult fiction and has sold approximately one million books. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans where she is a permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries and rescues orphaned and injured animals.

She is a member of both the International Thriller Writers Association and the Horror Writers Association.

Peter collected the chopped wood and set it on top of the pile against the house. Then he went around a corner, still not looking at her.

She waited on the step, refusing to go after him, but not mad enough to head inside and get out of the cold.

When he returned, he had three more heavy logs in his arms. Peter dumped them by the stump, keeping his eyes on the wood.

“Good morning,” she said, unable to stand the silent treatment any longer.

He ignored her and set one of the logs on the stump. He lifted his ax, centering the blade over the wood.

The ax came down, perfectly splitting the log in two. He worked methodically as he retrieved one of the halved pieces.

Another thunk cleaved the wood into smaller portions.

“Are you still mad about me beating you?”

He collected the pieces and brought them to her woodpile, keeping quiet.

She folded her arms, growing annoyed.

“I didn’t do anything to you that isn’t done a hundred times a day in any hockey rink across the country.”

He picked up another log and set it on the stump.

The heat in her cheeks rose. “Was leaving me in those woods your way of getting even? Well then, congratulations. One cheap shot deserved another.”

He lifted his ax and ran his hand up and down the handle. “I didn’t leave you. I made sure you could follow me back.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful to you for scaring me to death?”

He poised the ax blade above the log. “You’re not dead. Not even close.”

A loud crack reverberated as the ax drove into the wood.

A slither of satisfaction coiled through her when the blade got stuck halfway through the log.

With one arm, he picked up the ax and slammed the jammed log against the stump, but the stubborn log held on. Peter’s cheeks reddened as he raised the ax again and kicked at the determined chunk of wood.

“You need to sharpen your ax,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

He finally looked up at her. “What would you know about chopping wood?”

She smirked. “I know a dull tool when I see one.”

Her point made, Courtney turned back into the cabin, leaving him to stew.

But the moment she shut the door, it flew open. He stood in the doorway, the vexation in his eyes mirrored the knots in her stomach.

He put his hands on the doorframe, digging his nails into the wood. “I’m not mad about the game. I’m not a child.”

She pulled her robe closer. “Then why are you acting like one?”

The harsh lines in his brow softened. “I should never have come to you. I should have stayed away and left you alone in this cabin.”

Her first reaction was to balk at his confession, but then the meaning behind his words sank in, hitting her harder than any blow from his ax.

“Is that why you ran off the other day? Because you regretted knowing me?”

“I could never regret that. You have been a shining light in my very dark world.”

Hamish Kenneally is moving from Australia to the US for a fresh start, beginning with Christmas at his sister’s place in Idaho. When a snowstorm diverts his plane to Montana and leaves him stranded two days before Christmas, he hires a car and drives right into a blizzard.

Ren Brooks has always called Hartbridge, Montana, and his family hardware store, home. After a few failed attempts at love, he’s resigned to being single forever—after all, no guy wants to stay in his sleepy little town for long. And after his dad’s passing earlier in the year, Ren’s Christmas is looking bleak. But when a car runs off the road in front of his property, Ren pulls the driver out and takes him home to get out of the cold.

With the storm and the holidays leaving Hamish with nowhere else to go, Ren kindly offers a place to stay. Hamish is certain he’s crashed right into a Hallmark Christmas movie, despite more car delays and road closures and the prospect of not seeing his sister for Christmas. And with help from Hamish, Ren is beginning to feel a little Christmas cheer.

These two unlikely strangers have more in common than they first realise, and after two days of Christmas decorations, cookies, and non-stop conversation, it looks like Christmas might be saved after all.

N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.

She’s been writing ever since…

A totally catastrophic, unmitigated disaster.

What is a totally catastrophic, unmitigated disaster, you might ask?

Let me break it down for you real quick.

My life, my relationship, my job, my plans, my future, and this whole damn trip.

So, basically me.

Me.

I am the totally catastrophic unmitigated disaster.

Hamish Kenneally, thirty-one-year-old Australian, who quit his shitty job and sold his shitty apartment and left behind his shitty life in Sydney, packed his said-shitty life into two suitcases, and boarded a plane to spend Christmas with his sister in God-knows-where, Idaho, USA.

Well, Christmas first. Then two years, at least, in America trying to unshitify his life.

And if the trip to said God-knows-where, Idaho, was any indication of just how spectacularly extra-shitified my life was going to get, I should have turned around and stayed right where I was. Because if the flight from Sydney to LA was bad, which it was, then the second flight, LA to Spokane, made the first flight look like a joy ride.

Because I didn’t get to Spokane, did I?

Oh no, of course I didn’t.

Because you see, Christmastime in America is in winter. Which is weird enough for this Australian. Christmas should be hot summer days at the beach, seafood and salads, beers and watching the bronzed surfers and drunk foreigners at Bondi. That is what Christmas should be.

None of this “sorry folks; to avoid flying into a massive snow blizzard, we’re being diverted to Missoula, Montana” crap the captain of the plane said when we were halfway there. Like the screaming baby in the seat next to me, or the vomiting lady in the row in front of me weren’t bad enough. Like we had any choice about which direction we were flying into.

I had no choice. I was now going to Montana. In a freaking blizzard, of all things. Ever been on a plane that flew into a snowstorm? There is zero joy in that kind of turbulence, believe me. It would also explain the screaming baby and the vomiting woman. And the man behind me saying Hail Mary’s . . . which you’d think might be comforting. But oh boy, is it ever not. Especially when he yelled the prayer every time we hit a particularly large pothole in the sky on the descent. Honestly, if this flight was a scene in a movie, you’d think it was too ridiculous to be real.

After the plane landed—to which I would have clapped and cheered like everyone else if I wasn’t stuck in the brace position after trying to kiss my own arse goodbye—we were kicked off the plane without so much as a good luck in the wrong bloody state.

So there I was, a clueless Aussie, after flying for twenty hellish-hours and now a few hundred kilometres from where I was supposed to be, trying to wrangle two overweight suitcases down the concourse, when one little wheel on my suitcase broke.

Because of course it did.

Frazzled and trying not to cry— Yes, cry. A thirty-one-year-old man can cry; shove your toxic masculinity in your cakehole and stop judging me. I was having a jetlag-fuelled shitastic day meltdown, trying to keep my shit together the best I could, and clearly not doing it very well. I was allowed a little saltwater leakage.

Anyway, getting back to my story. I tried to call my sister.

No signal.

Because of course there’s not.

So, taking a deep breath and willing myself not to spiral, I found my car rental kiosk. Finally, something is going right. “I have a car booked,” I said, trying to keep my now-broken suitcase upright with my foot while rifling through my backpack for my booking confirmation and driver’s licence. After dropping my passport and half the contents from my backpack all over the floor, then scrambling to collect it all while still trying to keep my suitcase upright, I handed everything over with a flourish of triumph. “Oh, that flight was the worst,” I said, sagging onto the counter.

I was about to tell her all about my day from the ninth circle of hell when she looked up at me with that look.

You know the one.

The look of superficial appeasement before they cut you off at the knees. “I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t have a reservation under your name.”

I stared at her. My brain short-circuited and the will to live left my body. It was an actual out-of-body experience, I’m sure of it. I could see myself staring at her, mouth gaping like I’d been lobotomised.

Because of course they didn’t have my booking.

Why would they? My rental car was waiting for me in Spokane. In Washington. Not in freaking Montana.

“Oh,” I whispered, and my left eye twitched. “That’s nice.” I looked around the airport, at the line of annoyed people behind me. “Excellent. I’ve seen that movie where Tom Hanks lives in an airport. It wasn’t so bad. Could be worse. Could’ve been the one where he’s stuck on the island, I guess. Though I didn’t pack a volleyball, so that would’ve sucked.”

She blinked and tap-tap-tapped away at her keyboard. “But sir, we’ve had a lot of cancelled flights today because of the weather. I can arrange a vehicle for you, if you’d like?”

Oh, my sweet baby Jesus in a manger, why didn’t she lead with that?

Escaping the tormenting demons of her past was all Tova wanted, but someone has other plans.

An Internally tormented girl
An Unexpected protector
One deadly hunt

Tova, sexually and physically abused as a child, lives in a territory protected by a thick forest and stone wall. She has no desire to leave, and not because of the savages and mutated beasts that roam beyond the walls…

On a quest to deliverance, her plan has always been to learn self-defense and to learn how to protect those who can’t protect themselves while overcoming the demons of her past.

Meanwhile, an unsuspecting heartthrob catches her attention. Not knowing the secrets that lay deep within, he anxiously wants to pursue her, but someone else has other plans for her.

In the midst of all the mayhem, does their relationship end before it can begin?

Protecting Tova is an exciting journey as Tova fights to forget her past in a dystopian world inundated by threats, mysteries, and treachery.

***This is an adrenaline rush novel with a mixture of fantasy and paranormal/supernatural. Perfect for fans of sarcastic heroines, protective males, and instant attraction.***

Havana has always had a vivid imagination and is an avid dreamer. As a child, she used to have a goal of making her mom laugh as much as she could by coming up with some very outlandish stories.
As she grew up she discovered her love of fantasy romances and dreamt about becoming an author herself. So, she decided to put her dreams into reality by becoming an author herself.

Be sure to follow her on Instagram and Facebook for updates at Havana Wilder.

Waking up at the foot of your own grave is no picnic… especially when you can’t remember how you got there.

Cursed with powers she can’t name, Sloane Cabot has vowed to catch the Rogue who turned her into a monster and killed her family. Too bad a broodingly hot mage is bound to keep her on the straight and narrow.

Whether she likes it or not…

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she'll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, an old man of a dog, and a young pup that makes life... interesting.

“Thomas warned me about this, you know,” Bastian began, his voice pitched low, his booted feet striding close but not piercing my bubble.

I kept my gaze latched onto his feet and refused to look up. If I caught sight of his neck, of his blood pulsing in that lovely vein, I’d lose it. I wasn’t hungry yet and I wanted to keep it that way.

I cleared my throat, an action that took far too much effort and hurt for some reason. My throat was dry. Why was it so dry? “Warned you about what?”

“He said that, in time, I would want to be bitten. That the thought of you hungry or in pain would make me want to serve myself up so you didn’t suffer. That it was dangerous and blissful and would likely cause you to leave us.”

His feet moved closer, piercing my bubble. The heat of him washed over me, even though he was a few feet away.

I shook my head, which I instantly regretted because blood loss was a thing and I was losing a lot of it, the healing process taking far too long. Booth must have hit an artery.

“I don’t want to be tied to anyone. I don’t want a home. I don’t want friends.” It was a lie—a whole mountain of lies—but it was the truth, too. I didn’t want a tie to someone who was going to leave me. I didn’t want a home if I was going to lose it. I didn’t want friends that would die on me.

“Too bad.”

Coming to in the middle of a cemetery was never high on my bucket list—not that I had a bucket list at twenty-two—but if I had one at all, hanging out in a graveyard wasn’t ever going to be on it.

Of all the things that woke me up, it was the grainy yet damp sensation of dirt on my hands.

Not the rain pelting me. Not the lash of wind chilling me to the bone. Not the fact that I was outside when I should be warm in my bed. No, those kernels of awareness came later. It was those simple granules of earth on my fingertips.

Aching and groggy, it took a full minute to understand that I was, A—outside, and B—in the middle of a cemetery. At night. In a damp, nearly see-through nightgown that had never once graced my wardrobe.

Seemed legit.

Honestly, if I weren’t in so much pain—if my gut wasn’t roiling with hunger and my head wasn’t feeling like someone had taken a pickax to it, I could’ve sworn I was dreaming. Well, not dreaming exactly. Having a nightmare would be more like it. I mean, why else would I be covered in dirt, sitting on the freshly dug mound of a grave?

It took a hell of a lot of concentration to read the headstone, but I wasn’t at all surprised to read my own name: Sloane Emerson Cabot, with my birth and death date right underneath it.

As nightmares went, this was pretty solid. Too bad I had the sneaking suspicion I was in no way dreaming.

Death isn’t the end for eighteen-year-old Avery Williams, and her final resting place isn’t beyond the Golden Gates. No, the Queen of the Damned has plans for her and, unbeknownst to Avery, fought hard to gain possession of her soul.

As Hell’s newest succubus, Avery is expected to siphon life from the living. It only takes a long, meaningful kiss, but for a virgin like Avery, kissing guys she barely knows isn’t something she’s comfortable doing. Avery focuses on the upside of her fate—she’ll be returning home, or so she thinks. When the Queen of the Damned cuts her off from her old life, Avery is determined to find a way back to her family and friends, even if it means facing Hell’s fury if she’s caught.

Cherie Colyer is the author of Challenging Destiny and the Embrace series. When she's not getting the fictional people in her life into trouble, she can be found solving network issues at work, spending time with family and friends, reading, or exploring the great outdoors.

Cherie lives in Illinois with her family.

To learn more about Cherie and her novels visit www.CherieColyer.com

We got to Brookfield Zoo around ten, and even though I had forty dollars in my purse, Cole insisted on paying for the both of us. We entered through an underground tunnel that led to the main entrance. Images of ostriches and lions watched us pass as we followed the crowd to the turnstiles. 

Cole handed a heavyset guy in a blue uniform our tickets and then held his hand in front of him. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and asked, “Are you sure your friends won’t mind me tagging along?”

During the drive over, I envisioned Cole’s friends as a group of unruly demons. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked him what to expect when he first mentioned getting out of the apartment. When I voiced my concerns to Cole, he let out a loud guffaw. A minute later, he assured me there wouldn’t be a demon in the bunch, except for us. He also told me that Luz was psyched to meet me. She was tired of being the only girl in the group.

Cole and I headed toward a large water fountain at the center of the zoo. A boy wearing a lion sun visor held his little hands up as if they were paws and roared. His sister—who was about half his size—screamed. I couldn’t help but laugh. Then I remembered Cole’s comment back at the apartment.

“Are you really a fan of leopards?” I asked. 

“Snow leopards,” he corrected. “They’re smaller than other wild cats, but they’re graceful, cunning, and exceptional survivors.”

I got the feeling he related to them on a personal level. Cole had said incubi were low on Hell’s totem pole of bad asses.

“What’s your favorite animal?” he asked. 

I tapped a finger to my lips. “Hmm—”

He jumped in front of me, walking backward with a bounce in his step. “Don’t tell me. I’ll guess.”

I giggled. Cole’s behavior was so human it was hard to believe he was a demon. But then again, so was I. 

“You’ll never guess.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” I replied with a smile.

He slowed, avoiding bumping into a stroller even though his back was to it.

“How’d you know they were there?” I whispered, fully expecting to be told that demons had the radar-like senses of a shark.

“Reflection in your sunglasses.” He wiggled the ones he wore. 

Darn on the supernatural radar, or lack thereof.

“Where were we?” he asked.

“You were about to admit there is no way you’ll guess my favorite animal.”

“You think so.” Cole smirked. “Let’s make it interesting…winner sleeps in the bed tonight, his choice if he wants to share.”

“Or hers, and just so you know, I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”

“You did last night.”

“I was passed out due to being drugged. It doesn’t count.”

I hadn’t given much thought to the fact that Cole and I shared everything in a one-bedroom apartment. “Does the couch pull out into a sofa bed?”

“Nope. I usually don’t have company sleep over. I discovered last night you’re a cover hog.”

Since most mornings I woke tangled in the sheet, I knew better than to argue with the latter statement. “Don’t you have girls over?”

“Definitely not. Except Luz, but she’s a friend and doesn’t stay the night.” His expression became serious. “No bringing work home. House rule.”

I didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone, so that rule was fine by me. “Deal.”

His lips curved upward into a devilish smirk. “Which one: you won’t bring strange guys home, or you’re willing to risk losing dibs on the comfy mattress?”

I began to think Lilith had purposely paired me with Cole as a way to add to my own personal Hell. He was seriously charming and—had we been human—the type of guy I went for.

But he’s not human, and the only reason you find him charming is because he’s the only person you’re still allowed to talk to.

Even Gregory Davis—the geeky brain from school with thick black glasses and a never-ending supply of sweater vests—would look appealing when you’re staring down eternity and he’s the only person you know. 

I shook my head to clear my runaway thoughts and replied with confidence, “Both.”

“Be prepared to lose.” He turned and fell in stride with me. In a low voice, he said, “Luz, Nick, and Dylan are human. Hunter’s something else.”

I stopped. “What’s Hunter?”