Cover Photographer: David Gaustad @ David Gaustad Photography
Kellan
Countless hours of practice, and enough determination to succeed no matter the cost is what has brought Kellan to standing at the door to his life coming full circle.
Life on the competition circuit was fast-paced, and exciting, but now Kellan is ready to settle down, and stay in his own bed for longer than a week.
Opening Powerhouse Martial Arts with his three best friends was just what they all needed to showcase their skills from traditional forms, all the way to show-style sport tricking.
Kellan thought he had it all figured out, except he didn’t figure in the sassy barista next door.
Molly
For seven years, Molly saved every penny she had to buy the quirky coffee shop on the corner.
Lattes, cappuccinos, espresso. You name it, Molly can make it.
Early mornings slinging coffee, and late nights thinking up the next new coffee craze leaves Molly little time to have a life. Her customers have become her family, and she would do anything to keep her customers happy.
Even venturing over to the new Martial Arts studio next door, and asking them to keep the screaming and grunting to a minimum. Surely one doesn’t need to scream so much, right?
With Molly throwing down the gauntlet to quiet down or shut down, Kellan does the only thing he can do.
Take off the sparring gloves, and show the barista just what Powerhouse Martial Arts is all about.
Strength, Style, & taking no prisoners.
Winter Travers is a devoted wife, mother, and aunt turned author who was born and raised in Wisconsin. After a brief stint in South Carolina following her heart to chase the man who is now her hubby, they retreated back up North to the changing seasons, and the place they now call home.
Winter spends her days writing happily ever afters, and her nights zipping around on her forklift at work. She also has an addiction to anything MC related, her dog Thunder, and Mexican food! (Tamales!)
Winter loves to stay connected with her readers. Don’t hesitate to reach out and contact her.
By: Jennifer LeBlanc Publication Date: October 25, 2016 Genre: Contemporary Humor
#augustbartontour
August Barton could never have mentally prepared himself for his freshman year of college: not only has his anxiety increased, but his parents are divorcing, his new roommate thinks Augie is the biggest nerd in existence, and his grandma, a retired prostitute named Gertie, has taken to running away from her nursing home. Augie just wants to hole up in his dorm room with his Star Wars collectables and textbooks, but Gertie is not about to let that happen. What ensues is a crazy ride including naked trespassing, befriending a local biker gang, and maybe-just maybe-with Augie defeating his anxiety and actually getting the girl.
Jennifer LeBlanc was born and raised in South Dakota and has always had a knack for story-telling. When not writing, she can be found getting lost in a good book, doing something crafty, indulging in photography, or relaxing with her husband, two cats, and chihuahua. Jennifer loves animals and supports saving species on the verge of extinction. She currently works in merchant banking and credit services while writing her next project, a YA speculative thriller.
Countless hours of practice, and enough determination to succeed no matter the cost is what has brought Kellan to standing at the door to his life coming full circle.
Life on the competition circuit was fast-paced, and exciting, but now Kellan is ready to settle down, and stay in his own bed for longer than a week.
Opening Powerhouse Martial Arts with his three best friends was just what they all needed to showcase their skills from traditional forms, all the way to show-style sport tricking.
Kellan thought he had it all figured out, except he didn’t figure in the sassy barista next door.
Molly
For seven years, Molly saved every penny she had to buy the quirky coffee shop on the corner.
Lattes, cappuccinos, espresso. You name it, Molly can make it.
Early mornings slinging coffee, and late nights thinking up the next new coffee craze leaves Molly little time to have a life. Her customers have become her family, and she would do anything to keep her customers happy.
Even venturing over to the new Martial Arts studio next door, and asking them to keep the screaming and grunting to a minimum. Surely one doesn’t need to scream so much, right?
With Molly throwing down the gauntlet to quiet down or shut down, Kellan does the only thing he can do.
Take off the sparring gloves, and show the barista just what Powerhouse Martial Arts is all about.
Strength, Style, & taking no prisoners.
“The first book in a new series by the amazing Winter travers will leave you breathless.” – Reader Review
“This book was so well written and so hilariously funny that I am going to absolutely devour each one in this new series from Winter Travers.” – One Last Page Book Blog
“…Dropkick My Heart was laugh out loud funny, had sexy times that have you fanning yourself,and characters that make you want to know more about them.” – MJ’s Book Blog and Reviews
Winter Travers is a devoted wife, mother, and aunt turned author who was born and raised in Wisconsin. After a brief stint in South Carolina following her heart to chase the man who is now her hubby, they retreated back up North to the changing seasons, and the place they now call home.
Winter spends her days writing happily ever afters, and her nights zipping around on her forklift at work. She also has an addiction to anything MC related, her dog Thunder, and Mexican food! (Tamales!)
Winter loves to stay connected with her readers. Don’t hesitate to reach out and contact her.
Cooper Cruz knows what it means to be surrounded and bound by family. Loyalty, brotherhood, and protection are all learned, earned, and respected by him and the Ravage Motorcycle Club family he grew up in. At the same, he’s a man, having fun and living the life he has always envisioned, until a trip to Florida changes everything.
Bristyl Daniels knows what it means to be smothered and boundby family. Bonds run deep with her father and all the members of the Sinister Sons Motorcycle Club she has grown up in. Butnow she’s all woman and wishes they would see she isn’t a little girl anymore. Then one phone call gives her a chance meeting with a hunk of a man she can’t get off her mind.
When her favorite band comes to play at a motorcycle rally in her hometown, Bristyl decides it’s worth the risk to sneak off for a little fun. When a situation gets heated, though, Cooper and the Ravage MC step in, setting off a chain of events, both good and bad in both their lives.
As the dust settles, Bristyl will have to come to some very hard decisions. Meanwhile, Cooper knows exactly what he wants. To hell with the consequences.
Bristyl
Holy hells bells.
I’m not sure if I should be pissed that my brothers and father left me to deal with this mess or thank them for the gorgeous eye candy. Not that I would, because they’d have a fit either way, but damn. Maybe it’s my mom smiling down on me, giving me a ray of sunshine through this mess.
All three of the guys are hot in their own way. By the cuts on their backs, they belong to the Ravage Motorcycle Club. Here for the rally, of course, and will be gone in a flash. That’s how it is. What the hell, I’ll enjoy the view while I can.
I sop up the water and wring out the mop head, then repeat … again and again.
Ryker, who boldly introduced himself, is a player. Yep, seen hundreds of them in my day growing up in the club. Tattoos, sexy vibe … I bet he doesn’t even have to ask women, just crooks his finger.
The other man, who I’m not sure his name, looks a little lighter in a way, but I’m not sure how to describe it.
Cooper, though. My heavens. Talk about charismatic, and I got that just from the few words he spoke to me. Hell, I get it just from being in the same room with him. It’s like he oozes it out of his pores, releasing it out in the world for women to fall at his feet and beg. Then there’s the hair. I can’t call it light, and it’s definitely not dark. It’s a unique combination of the two; light browns intertwined with a few darker browns, giving his hair a shade I haven’t seen before. Like a caramel color with an edge, and long. So much so that he has a hair tie wrapped around his wrist. No doubt he puts it up regularly. I’d put money on it only amping up his sexiness.
When our eyes connected for that brief moment, the blue popped out in his. I also noticed some navy around the edges. That combination of hair and eyes … Be still my deprived heart.
The way his pants ride low on his hips makes me want to give up all kinds of things to get him to raise his arms above his head so his black T-shirt rises up and I can see what’s underneath.
He has tattoos running all up his left arm, disappearing under his shirt. I can see some black poking through the top at his neck, too. It piques my curiosity, wanting to find out what he’s hiding.
I shake my head and squeeze out the mop. It’s been way too long since … Never mind.
** Bound by Family (Ravage MC Bound Series #1) is a standalone full-length novel. You do not have to read the Ravage MC series to follow this book, but if you’d like to see where it all started, you really should. **
Ryan Michele found her passion in bringing fictional characters to life. She loves being in an imaginative world where anything is possible, and she has a knack for special twists readers don’t see coming.
She writes MC, Contemporary, Erotic, Paranormal, New Adult, Inspirational, and other romance-based genres. Whether it’s bikers, wolf-shifters, mafia, etc., Ryan spends her time making sure her heroes are strong and her heroines match them at every turn.
When she isn’t writing, Ryan is a mom and wife living in rural Illinois and reading by her pond in the warm sun.
Book Title: Beauty of the Beast (Fairy Tale Retellings, Book One) Author: Rachel L. Demeter Genres: Adult, Historical Romance, Fairy Tale Retelling Release Date: March 15, 2017 Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Pick up Beauty of the Beast for just $2.99
(March 31st only)
Experience the world’s most enchanting and timeless love story—retold with a dark and realistic twist.
A BEAST LIVING IN THE SHADOW OF HIS PAST
Reclusive and severely scarred Prince Adam Delacroix has remained hidden inside a secluded, decrepit castle ever since he witnessed his family’s brutal massacre. Cloaked in shadow, with only the lamentations of past ghosts for company, he has abandoned all hope, allowing the world to believe he died on that tragic eve twenty-five years ago.
A BEAUTY IN PURSUIT OF A BETTER FUTURE
Caught in a fierce snowstorm, beautiful and strong-willed Isabelle Rose seeks shelter at a castle—unaware that its beastly and disfigured master is much more than he appears to be. When he imprisons her gravely ill and blind father, she bravely offers herself in his place.
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
Stripped of his emotional defenses, Adam’s humanity reawakens as he encounters a kindred soul in Isabelle. Together they will wade through darkness and discover beauty and passion in the most unlikely of places. But when a monster from Isabelle’s former life threatens their new love, Demrov’s forgotten prince must emerge from his shadows and face the world once more…
Perfect for fans of Beauty and the Beast and The Phantom of the Opera, Beauty of the Beast brings a familiar and well-loved fairy tale to life with a rich setting in the kingdom of Demrov and a captivating, Gothic voice.
Beauty of the Beast is the first standalone installment in a series of classic fairy tales reimagined with a dark and realistic twist.
Disclaimer: This is an edgy retelling of the classic fairy tale. Due to strong sexual content, profanity, and dark subject matter, including an instance of sexual assault committed by the villain, Beauty of the Beast is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
~ Isabelle bravely takes her papa’s place ~
Quite a while later, as Isabelle relaxed and soaked in the hearth’s warmth, she found herself nodding off to sleep.
Her mind detached from the stress of the past few days and receded to another time and place. She recalled her journeys with Papa when she’d been little more than a girl. All the villages they’d passed through; all the faces they’d seen. She thought of reading fairy tales beneath a bejeweled sky, of leaning against a mountain of crates as Papa pointed out the constellations and their eternal stories—
Rattling seized her attention and ruptured her thoughts. She peered at Papa, who was carefully examining his teacup. Not with his sightless eyes, of course—but with wandering fingertips. The same impressive coat of arms engraved the fine proclaim; Papa ran his weathered fingers over its surface, clearly in awe of the raised gold decorations and studded gems. The thing must have cost a small fortune. Indeed, she’d never beheld such finery. Even the wares Papa had once sold paled in comparison. The faded brim of his top hat hung low and covered his glassy eyes.
Then her mouth went dry as he slipped the teacup inside his coat.
Has he gone mad—or simply grown that desperate? It was completely unlike Papa to steal. How could he—and after being shown hospitality?
Her outcry startled him.He half leapt from the chair—and Isabelle watched in horror as the teacup tumbled out from the coat. It rattled and rolled onto the stone ground, shattering into a million pieces.
A gloved hand broke through the darkness, quicker than a lightning strike. The hooded figure emerged from the shadows and seized Papa by his cravat. His other hand clasped a branch of flickering candles. The illumination flashed across the dark folds of his cloak, soaking him in a pool of light.
“Stealing from me, are you? Breaking my family’s keepsakes?” A sharp jerk forced Papa to his feet. The rough movement sent the top hat tumbling from his head and onto the stone floor. Papa’s waxen features melted into an expression of horror and confusion.
Her heart pounding, Isabelle lunged forward and frantically cried out, “Let him alone! It was an accident. Don’t you see that you’re frightening him?”
“Good.” The simple declaration threw Isabelle into stunned silence. Papa called out for her as the man strode from the sitting room, his solid legs eating up the ground in swift, decisive strides. Mon Dieu, he was physically dragging Papa through the castle.
This isn’t happening. It cannot be…
“Stop it! Stop it now—you monster!” Isabelle picked up her skirts and frantically chased after them. Parts of the castle were dark and unkempt, causing her to trip several times over wayward pieces of furniture. Her heart violently pounded in her ears. The man moved impressively fast; between his agile stride and sweeping cloak, he almost appeared to float through the corridors. Plopping onto the stone floor, his dog gave up trying to keep pace. Dust motes rose and fell in midair like ashes, obscuring her vision. She followed the branch’s illumination, watching as the candlelight threw prisms along the walls and floor.
“Please, monsieur. Have mercy, I beg you! He didn’t know any better. He’s not in his right mind. He would never—”
“No one steals from me.” His low voice echoed in the darkness, steady as a war drum.
Isabelle felt herself descending. She ducked as she crossed a low archway, where she was met with a steep flight of stairs. A mouth into Hell. The ceiling lurked unusually low and was strung with cobwebs. Isabelle hiked up her skirts, which were now a filthy mess, and raced down the decayed steps. The hooded figure kept a swift pace while she desperately pursued Papa’s frightened cries.
Plagued by the darkness, Isabelle tripped and crashed down the stone steps. Pain cascaded through her body, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her skinned knees and elbows throbbed, her heart pounded, her head burned. She spared a moment to catch her breath as she struggled to her feet and resumed her vain quest. Papa’s muffled pleas and the sound of slamming bars ripped at her very soul.
The dank dungeon was nearly black. She slowed her pace, moving toward a beam of light at the far end. Rats the size of kittens scurried across the stone floor and filled the darkness with their terrible squeaking. Her heart thudding, Isabelle rushed through the maze of cells, following Papa’s voice and that flickering light. Chains and crude-looking objects littered the ground—torture devices from a past age, she realized with a shudder.
She found them.
Papa was grasping the rusted bars; disoriented and frightened, he was murmuring incoherent pleas. Tears fell from his sightless eyes, though Isabelle knew he fought to restrain them. The branch of candles sat in front of the cell, its wavering light illuminating his terrified expression.
“Forgive me. I have wronged you when you showed my daughter and me hospitality and mercy. Please, monsieur!”
The man towered before him, silent and still. His long arms remaining crossed, he stood with his lean torso straighter than a broadsword. His hood was drawn back, though Isabelle couldn’t see his face from her angle.
“Papa, I’m here,” she said beneath the weight of a strained breath.
“I-Isabelle?”
Not sparing a moment, she dashed over to the cell—and the man slowly rotated into sight.
Except he resembled more of a beast than any man she’d ever seen.
Isabelle clamped both hands over her mouth and forced her eyes away. The sight burned—and the inferno in his gaze only kindled that fire.
Half of his face looked monstrously twisted; charred mounds of puckered flesh distorted the features beyond any recognition, draining him of all traces of humanity. Those heaps of burned, leather-like skin gleamed and glistened in the candlelight. His hairline receded on the left side of his face and slanted high above a shriveled ear.
Under the severe scarring, his age was more or less indistinguishable—though Isabelle guessed he wasn’t a day under thirty-five.
But his eyes were breathtaking. Two brilliant sapphires. There was also a great sadness and anger in those eyes, as if he’d suffered more than his share of original sin. Alas, as she gazed into his eyes, all she saw was blue ice—an endless, arctic landscape of cold desolation.
The man turned away, appearing greatly affected by her stare, and hastily rearranged the hood. His scarred hands trembled as he smoothed down the cloak’s thick folds.
“Release him,” she demanded. “He didn’t mean any harm. I—”
“No one meddles with my family’s possessions. He can rot down here as my prisoner. He ought to count himself fortunate that I haven’t taken his hand.”
“Your prisoner? This… this is a mistake! You must believe me. He’d never—”
A deep, husky chuckle cut through her plea. “Even so.”
“Please. Just let him out.”
“It’s too late for that.” Those words seemed to speak volumes. He exhaled a long breath, and Isabelle watched as it unfurled against the darkness in a cloud.
Silence.
“Why… why are you so angry? Why must you be so hateful? So cruel?”
“If I let him go,” he said at length, “what can you offer in return?” Isabelle couldn’t find her tongue. She wandered directly in front of the cell, almost in a lucid trance, and clasped the cold bars. Papa was huddled in the corner now, coughing and shivering. Guilt, unlike anything she’d known before, pulsated through her.
I’m to blame for this. And if Papa stays here, he’ll die well within a fortnight, likely much sooner…
“Get out of my sight.” The man’s voice jarred Isabelle from her inward stupor. She turned to him and stepped forward, raising her chin at a defiant angle.
I am not so easily broken or frightened.
I am a survivor.
She scanned her empty, dank surroundings: the cold stone walls, sweeping cobwebs, and blazing branch of candles. Despair encased her. Stark emptiness. She dared to step closer while a faint trace of pity bloomed inside her heart.
They stood centimeters apart. Heat radiated from the man’s body, surrounding her, immersing her. Isabelle vainly searched for softness in him, but only a dark, embittered spirit reached her. She stared up at his towering frame and gestured for him to bow forward. He hesitated, then did as she commanded. Her hands shook, damn her, as she peeled back his hood and met that piercing gaze again.
Half of his face was handsome—devastatingly so. In her twenty-two years of life, she’d never beheld such haunting beauty.
Jet‑black waves, rich and flowing, framed the chiseled lines of his startling features. Stubble peppered the strong curve of his jawline and shadowed a smooth, sculpted cheekbone. The right side of his face was striking, beautiful—a stark contrast to its wrecked counterpart. And within those patrician angles and intense eyes, she encountered his humanity.
His was a face of inconsistencies. Complex. Damaged. Predatory. And more than a bit intriguing.
“I will stay with you,” she heard herself whisper. “In my father’s place.”
“Isabelle—no! I forbid it!”
The man folded long, strong arms across his broad chest. His gaze crawled down her face and settled on the rise of her breasts—planting directly on her silver cross.
“I demand he’s seen by the finest of physicians.”
“Isabelle! Listen to me! I’m an old man. I’m dying. I—”
The man’s dark, strangely erotic voice cut through the cellar, and his eyes whipped back to her own with a startling force. “As my mistress.”
“What?”
“You must stay here as my mistress. For as long as I demand. Perhaps forever.”
Forever.
The word rang with a note of finality.
“Please, Isabelle! I beg you. Don’t do this!”
How could I endure it?
“Do as I say and your father shall safely return home.” He waved his cloaked arms with a magician’s delicate grace. “Your father—whatever family you may have—shall want for nothing. A house, clothing, anything they require. You only need to say the word. Your father will be under my protection—under the care of nurses and physicians—until his last breath.”
Isabelle briefly recalled what—and who—was waiting for her back in Ruillé. This fate wouldn’t be much worse. This desolate castle could serve as the perfect hideout. Papa would live in France, free from Raphael’s clutches and in the hands of the world’s greatest physicians…
“How… how can I trust you?” And does he even have the wealth to uphold such a promise?
“You cannot.”
She had faith Papa would send help once his health recovered. Or she’d find a way out, means of escape. In the interim, she would survive this grim castle and whatever horrors it concealed.
Papa would not. The castle would crush him beneath its dark heel in a matter of days.
Isabelle glanced at Papa again, then stared into the man’s brilliant eyes. There, lurking within those expressive depths, she found the softness she’d pursued minutes before.
She sucked in her breath and nodded her agreement.
“It is done.” The man swept backward. “He’s to remain down here till first light. Then our agreement shall be carried out. In the meantime, I will bring blankets and food—”
“But it’s so cold! He—”
“Stole from me while he was a guest in my castle.”
He would not compromise. That much was certain.
“I demand to stay with him.”
“As you please.” He unlocked the cell. “Beyond the dungeon lies a labyrinth. Try to escape, and you’ll be lost forever.”
He tapped the wall with his booted heel. It swiveled, spun, and rotated, sweeping her captor to the other side…
Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing poignant romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and explore the redeeming power of love. Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul. Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness. Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words.
Dia has just moved to a new city to run her own hair salon. She doesn’t have time for the hot guy who won’t stop asking her out, yet she can’t seem to stop thinking about him.
Stone Blaylock is the Battletown Packs’ Alpha and his mate has just moved into town. Problem is, she’s human. Therefore, he has to win her over the old fashioned, human way—by dating her.
Things are looking up for Stone when he gets his mate to fall in love with and mate him.
However, there’s someone out there who doesn’t like that the Alpha’s new mate is human. When their plan to kill her backfires and Dia survives, but she doesn’t remember anything, including Stone, or the circumstances that left her alone, hurt, and pregnant.
Excerpt 1 –
As Dia sat at her table looking at the laminated dinner menu, her mind swirled with doubts and worries. So much so, that she wasn’t reading the menu at all, just lost in her thoughts. All of that changed when the chair across from her scraped across the floor as it was dragged backward and someone sat down.
Suddenly, every nerve ending and instinct in Dia’s body flared to life. Although she hadn’t looked up yet, she somehow knew two things. One, it was a man. The spicy scent of him wafted across the table and filled her senses until her head spun. And two, for some odd reason, her entire being knew that her life was about to change forever.
How weird was that?
Not only weird, but scary. Dia’s life had already changed so much in the last few days with her move to town and taking over the business. There was no way she was ready for it to change any more.
She tried to ignore the unknown man, hoping he might go away if she paid him no attention. Just minutes later, though, she found out that wasn’t going to work, as he leaned forward and braced his arms on the table.
“You going to ignore me all night, princess?”
The unknown man’s voice was so deliciously deep that it tingled certain parts of her body. She loved a deep bass like that. His voice wasn’t what made her head snap up, though. No, it was her irritation.
“I’m not a fucking princess,” she snapped back.
She hated when people made assumptions about her just because of the way she looked. Just because she liked to have her make-up and hair done at all times didn’t mean that she was a high-maintenance woman. Dia could swing a hammer just as good as any guy in here, and if the stranger didn’t watch it, she would swing that hammer at his head.
It didn’t take much to set off Dia’s fiery temper.
Of course, the urge to hit him abruptly died away when she got her first good look at the man she had studiously tried to avoid only seconds before. The word beautiful didn’t seem to do the man justice. No, he was absolutely and utterly beard-bodacious beautiful.
He had dark, shaggy hair she immediately wanted to run her fingers through, and gorgeous steel-grey eyes. His facial features were strong, like his jaw, and undoubtedly handsome. Rugged was how one might describe them. Not Dia, though. No, the word predatory was the word that came to mind as she looked at his intent eyes and the smirk on his lips. The man was staring at her like he was a starving wolf and she was the plump, little lamb he had set his sights on.
Would it be terribly wrong if she gave in to temptation and asked him to eat her? Because looking at the stranger made her hotter than any other man had before. He was just that damn devastating. The realization made Dia feel confused because she had never had this sort of reaction to a man before.
The stranger’s smirk spread into a huge grin as he watched her after she snapped the heated words at him.
She waited for his rebuttal; some condescension that she hadn’t needed to be so snippety. Instead, he leaned forward and whispered, “All right, sweetheart, I get it; you’re not a princess. I just couldn’t help myself because, here you sit, in this little restaurant, surrounded by farmers and working men, prettier than anything I’ve ever seen in my whole life. You haven’t noticed that every single man’s eyes are glued to you, and you haven’t seen their pitiful attempts to get your attention. So, I had to come over here and make sure you had no choice but to notice me.”
“Why is that?” she asked him curiously.
“Because you’re mine.”
Jessie Lane is a best-selling author of Paranormal and Contemporary Romance, as well as, Upper YA Paranormal Romance/Fantasy.
She lives in Kentucky with her two little Rock Chicks in-the-making and her over protective alpha husband that she’s pretty sure is a latent grizzly bear shifter. She has a passionate love for reading and writing naughty romance, cliff hanging suspense, and out-of-this-world characters that demand your attention, or threaten to slap you around until you do pay attention to them.
She’s also a proud member of the Romance Writers of America (RWA).
From USA Today bestselling author BJ Harvey comes the fourth and final book in the Game series and this time it’s the reformed playboy and the single mom.
***
“You have chlamydia.”
Three words no man wants to hear.
I’ve always been liberal with my appreciation of the female form, a firm believer in the ‘try before you buy’ principle, but living life to the fullest obviously didn’t end well for me considering the unexpected—and very unwelcome—consequence of my free and easy past.
After living through the horrendous experience that was informing my recent sexual partners of my acquired ‘condition,’ I made a vow to myself – and a bet with my best friend—that the next woman I sleep with will be the ‘one.’
What I will learn is that even when something happens and the games come to an end, there’s always the chance of something—or someone—crashing in and changing everything.
So this is my story. It may start with a venereal disease, but I promise you, I’m determined to get my happy ending.
“Mommy?” Rose asks, standing next to Kate and tugging on her top.
Kate takes a sip of wine before looking down at her daughter with a smile on her face. “Yeah, princess?”
“What’s an ortasm?”
Wine shoots out of Kate’s mouth, as she chokes. The rest of us either gasp, snort, or in Mac’s case, cackle with laughter.
Noah and Zoe’s Nate, never one to miss out on being the center of attention, decides to wade in with his five-year old wisdom. “I have a penith,” he says, before pulling down his pants to prove the fact.
“Oh God, I can’t breathe,” Abi wheezes, bent over in her chair and laughing like a loon.
“Daddy says that he’ll cut off any boy’s penis that touches me,” Megan, Sean and Sam’s gorgeous nine-year old daughter, informs the group.
“He’d be right, pumpkin,” Sam replies, pursing her lips and not looking at all surprised by her daughter’s announcement.
“I’m so glad Riley can’t hear us. You don’t want to know the things she comes out with,” Mac adds just as Riley appears beside her. “Shit,” she mutters.
“Daddy told me I’m not allowed to talk about penises. But if you can then I can too.”
“Riley, this is adult conversation.”
“But you said adults have toys, like when I found a huge plastic penis in that red box at the back of your closet and you told me it was a paperweight.”
Mac’s face goes red, and her lips twitch. “Ah . . . yeah.”
“You told me it was a paperweight.”
“That’s because it was, honey.”
“That’s good, because I put it on Daddy’s desk in his office this morning. You shouldn’t hide things like that.”
The rest of the group struggles to stifle their laughter but somehow Mac powers through it. “I told you about going into my closet, missy.”
Riley shrugs, her hand darting out to grab a handful of potato crisps from the bowl in the middle of the table. “I was looking for the chicken.”
We all go silent, waiting for the penny to drop.
Mac’s head jerks back. “What?”
“Oh no. I’m not sure I want to know where this is going . . .” Abi says quietly beside us
“I heard you say you wanted Daddy’s cock.” Riley turns to her mother and narrows her eyes, her hands moving to her hips as she takes a hilarious—and very indignant—pose. “And I couldn’t find a chicken in your room so I looked in the closet. You shouldn’t hide Daddy’s cock. It’s mean for Daddy to keep a chicken inside.”
“Ah . . .” Mac wide eyes move to Kate.
“Riley,” Kate says, her voice full of humor. “I think you should go ask your Daddy about his chicken. Make sure you do it so that all of the uncles can hear too. I bet they’ll love to hear about the chicken.”
“I think I will,” she states with a firm nod before turning on her heels and leaving the room in search of her father.
Mac can do nothing but shake her head. “I swear to God that child is not mine.”
BJ Harvey is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the Bliss Series. She also regards herself as a smut peddler, suspense conjurer and a funny romance thinker upper.
An avid music fan, you will always find her singing some hit song badly but loving every minute of it.
She’s a wife, a mom to two beautiful girls, and hails from what she considers as the best country in the world—New Zealand.
A new dark romance from New York Times bestseller Anna Zaires
He came to me in the night, a cruel, darkly handsome stranger from the most dangerous corners of Russia. He tormented me and destroyed me, ripping apart my world in his quest for vengeance.
Now he’s back, but he’s no longer after my secrets.
I meet his gaze, and everything inside me jolts. It feels like I got shocked with a defibrillator. For the first time, I see him in the light of day without alcohol or drugs in my system.
For the first time, I fully comprehend how dangerous he is.
He’s leaning back in his chair, his long, jean-clad legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles under the small round table. It’s a casual pose, but there’s nothing casual about the dark power that rolls off him in waves. He’s not just dangerous; he’s lethal. I see it in the metallic ice of his gaze and the coiled readiness of his large body, in the arrogant set of his jaw and the cruel curve of his lips.
This is a man who lives and breathes violence, an apex predator for whom rules of society don’t exist.
A monster who’s tortured and killed countless people.
The surge of anger and hatred that comes with the thought cuts through my fear, and I take a step forward, then another and another until I’m walking toward him on almost steady legs. If he wanted to kill me, he could’ve already done it in a million different ways, so whatever he wants today must be something different.
Something even more evil.
“Hello, Sara,” he says, rising to his feet as I approach. “It’s good to see you again.”
His deep voice wraps around me, his soft Russian accent caressing my ears. It should sound ugly, that voice from my nightmares, but like everything else about him, it’s deceptively appealing.
“What do you want?” I’m being rude, but I don’t care. We’re long past politeness and good manners. There’s no use pretending this is a normal get-together.
The only reason I’m here is because not showing up could endanger my parents.
“Please, sit.” He motions to the chair across from him and sits down. “I took the liberty of ordering a cup of coffee for you. Black, no sugar… and decaf, since you’re not working today.”
I glance at the second cup—prepared exactly the way I would’ve ordered it—then meet his gaze again. My heart drums in my throat, but my voice is even as I say, “You have been watching me.”
“Yes, of course. But you figured that out last night, didn’t you?”
I flinch. I can’t help it. If he saw me try to make that call, then he saw me stagger drunkenly into the bathroom and come out naked.
If he’s been watching me for a while, he’s seen me in all sorts of private moments.
“Sit, Sara.” He gestures at the chair again, and this time, I obey—if only to give myself a chance to calm down. Rage and fear are a tangle of live wires in my chest, and I feel like I’m one deep breath away from exploding.
I’ve never been a violent person, but if I had a gun on me, I’d shoot him. I’d blow his brains all over the trendy Starbucks wall.
“You hate me.” He says it calmly, as a statement of fact rather than a question, and I stare at him, caught off-guard.
Does he read minds, or am I that transparent?
“It’s okay,” he says, and I catch a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You can admit it. I promise not to hurt you today.”
Today? What about tomorrow and the day after? My hands form into fists under the table, my nails digging into my skin. “Of course I hate you,” I say as steadily as I can manage. “Is that a surprise?”
“No, of course not.” He smiles, and my lungs tighten, preventing me from breathing. It’s not a perfect smile—his teeth are white, but one is slightly crooked on the bottom, and his lower lip has a tiny scar that wasn’t visible until now—but it’s magnetic nonetheless.
It’s a smile nature designed for one purpose only: to lure in unwary women and make them forget the monster underneath.
Anna Zaires fell in love with books at the age of five, when her grandmother taught her to read. She wrote her first story shortly thereafter. Since then, she has always lived partially in a fantasy world where the only limits were those of her imagination. Currently residing in Florida, Anna is happily married to Dima Zales (a science fiction and fantasy author) and closely collaborates with him on all their works.
After graduating from the University of Chicago with a degree in Economics, Anna spent eight years on Wall Street analyzing stocks and writing research reports. In 2013, she became a full-time author, pursuing her lifelong dream of writing romance novels.
Dima Zales is the love of her life and a huge inspiration in all aspects of her writing. Every book Anna writes is a product of their unique collaborative process.
In addition to reading and writing, Anna enjoys drinking tea (coconut oolong, anyone?), watching addictive TV shows, and discussing book ideas during long walks with her amazing husband.
She loves hearing from her readers, so please don’t hesitate to contact her through herwebsiteor connect with her onFacebook, where she hangs out way too often. Also, please visit her husband and collaborator, Dima Zales, athttp://www.dimazales.comand check out their fantasy & science fiction books.
Reading Renee 
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