She’s a country music star trying to escape the spotlight. He’s the scorching hot bodyguard she doesn’t want on her vacation. And there’s only one bed.
Hideaway Heart by Melanie Harlow is live!!
All I wanted was a break—two weeks off from being Pixie Hart, country music sensation, and fourteen days of peace, privacy, and solitude as plain old Kelly Jo Sullivan.
But thanks to some overzealous paparazzi, my family refuses to let me go anywhere alone, and I’m stuck sharing this tiny cabin with a tall, dark, and bearded bodyguard.
And guess what? There’s only one bed.
Well, he can couch it.
Xander Buckley might be hotter than a stolen blow torch, and I get that he’s a former Navy SEAL and all, but the man gives new meaning to the words overbearing, overprotective, bossy alpha male. I can’t even post a photo on social media without him warning me it’s not safe, or take a morning jog without him following behind.
But he’s made it clear that what he says goes, and if I don’t like it, I can kiss my vacation goodbye.
Instead, I end up kissing him.
I don’t even know how it happened—one minute we were at each other’s throats, the next we were at each other’s mercy. What’s even more shocking is how good we are together. He understands my need for freedom, and I understand his need for control.
But emotional trust doesn’t come easily to me. And we’re on two completely different paths.
Without question, I’d put my life in his hands.
Just don’t ask me to give him my heart.
Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited
“I’m not here to push you around.” “Ha! Just the sight of you is nothing but a giant, tattooed reminder that I can’t call the shots in my own life.” “I’m sorry to hear that. But for the next two weeks, you’re stuck with me.” She took a breath and tried a different tactic. “Well, you’ll have to sleep in your car, because there’s only one bed.”
🍒 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗕𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 🍒
Have you met the men of Melanie Harlow’s brand-new Cherry Tree Harbor series…
USA Today and #1 Amazon bestselling author Melanie Harlow writes sweet, sexy, feel-good romance. She likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. If she’s not writing or reading, she’s probably at Orangetheory or watching Schitt’s Creek again. She lifts her glass to readers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.
Matt I put my truck in park and hop out, walking toward the door with trepidation. I hope the food tastes better than this place looks. A metal bell chimes overhead as I open the door. I’m surprised to find the inside is quite different than what greets you in the service area of this place. The area is bright with white linoleum floors and shiny gunmetal countertops. There’s a soda fountain and coffee stations to the left and the cashier’s check out to the right. A portly appearing older gentleman appears to be reading the newspaper, sitting on a stool behind the counter. “Hi. Are you Elliot? I’m working with my brother this summer and he sent me to pick up lunch for his crew.” “Ah, Harry your brother?” he asks around a toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Yes, sir.” “Well, any brother of Harry’s is a friend of mine. I’m Jo.” “Matt. Nice to meet you. Oh. Salty Jo is you?” He grins, and I instantly have the feeling this man is a fixture in Candy Cane Key. “I don’t recall this place from when I grew up here.” “What’re you? Thirty?” “Close. Twenty-eight.” The bell chimes again, and I notice customers meandering around the place. No one seems the slightest bit concerned about the condition of the place. I’m sure they have to pass inspections with the health department, but I still can’t help being a tad concerned about eating lunch from a place like this. “Well, we’ve been here as long as you’ve been on the planet, son. Although it probably looked a bit better back then. Time and multiple tropical storms have taken their toll on the place. After a while, it gets to feel silly sinking any more money into it. But your brother has come to our aid more than once for the important stuff.” This makes me smile. My brother really is a good dude. “Speaking of your brother, I guess we need to keep his boys fed.” Jo removes the toothpick that remains in place throughout our conversation and points toward his right. “Elliot’s over there. In the deli area.” A mischievous smirk curls the corner of his mouth. What’s that about? “Thanks.” “Nice to meet you, Matt. Hope to see you ‘round.” I turn in the direction of the deli and feel my stomach grumble as I’m hit with the aroma of fried chicken. Now I live in a mountain town in North Carolina where home cooking is a staple. So for the scent of these gas station offerings before me to cause me to salivate says something. Bending forward, I take in the options within the glass case. There are perfectly prepared pieces of chicken, both on and off the bone, macaroni and cheese, green beans, collard greens, baked apples, and an assortment of pies. Hell, they even have banana pudding here. As my eyes travel to the back of the display area, I find I’m drooling for an entirely different reason. A set of shapely calves, thick thighs, and the hottest backside I’ve ever seen is bent over before me. This girl is leaning into the oven while her tiny cut-off shorts ride up her legs, causing my dick to twitch. Hell, is she on the menu? As if on cue, she stands to her full height. She’s probably about five foot five, with generous curves in all the right places. Those perky tits have to be at least a C cup, if not more. They are perfectly proportioned to her rounded hips and trim waste. Her thick auburn hair is pulled up in a messy bun, covered with a hair net. Yet, I can’t help picturing it tumbling down her back toward that fantastic ass. Shit. I don’t remember anyone in Candy Cane Key looking like this when I lived here. Well, maybe one girl, but she was just that. A girl. While this one is all woman. I barely finish my thought before said stunner turns to face me. While I stand here with my mouth hanging open at the beauty wielding silver tongs before me, I’m met with the biggest green eyes I’ve ever seen. She simply gives me the once over as if this happens all the time. This curvy girl has my mouth watering when it suddenly hits me. Wait. Do these guys come here for the hot chicken or the hot chick?
AUTHOR BIO
Born and raised in Virginia, LM Fox currently lives in a suburb of Richmond with her husband, three kids, and a chocolate lab.
Her pastimes are traveling to new and favorite places, trying new foods, a swoony book with either a good cup of tea or coffee, margaritas on special occasions, and watching her kids participate in a variety of sports.
She has spent the majority of her adult life working in emergency medicine and her books are written in this setting. Her main characters are typically in the medical field, EMS, fire, and/or law enforcement. She enjoys writing angsty, contemporary romance starring headstrong, independent heroines you can’t help but love and the hot alpha men who fall hard for them.
BRAVED by Dr. Rebecca Sharp is live and FREE with Kindle Unlimited.
Are you ready for the final standalone in the Covington Security series! Keep reading for an excerpt…
BLURB
From bestselling author, Dr. Rebecca Sharp, comes a brother’s best friend, forced proximity romantic suspense…
Juliana Lozano has spent years living as the rebellious one of the family, a reputation she’s embraced. No one is surprised by her string of boyfriends that her brother would never approve… then again no one realizes all those flirtations aren’t what they seem.
When her little operation turns deadly, Juliana needs a place to hide and some lessons on how to protect herself.
Kane Rivera wants nothing more than to bury himself in his work. But as the new guy at Covington Security, when his teammate’s little sister shows up wanting self-defense training, he’s stuck entertaining her request.
It only takes one afternoon for Juliana to want to punch Kane for real. The older ex-DEA agent is buttoned-up, broody, and a borderline bully when it comes to keeping her safe. But better he think she’s brazen and bored than know the truth: she’s fighting for her life.
No matter how he’d prefer to be ignorant, Kane can’t ignore the bold beauty or all the bad things that keep happening to her. Juliana’s hiding something, but if close proximity offers any clues, it’s that he’s the one who’s in trouble. Getting involved with Juliana isn’t an option—not with his past. She’s braved too much to have her heart crushed by the one man who was supposed to protect it.
“Did you think there’d be this many people?” Rosa spoke over the pervasive thump of the music.
I sipped on my tonic water, scanning the crowd that filled the ground floor of the Mirage, the newest club in downtown San Francisco.
The building wasn’t new; it had been an exclusive nightclub for many years, but the previous owners had been arrested almost a year ago for ties to a drug cartel. The new owners had taken everything up a notch—or ten. Decadent décor. Top-tier alcohol. A members-only kink club upstairs. And their PR team had done a damn good job burying the club’s sordid past.
“This is perfect,” I replied, picking my cell phone up from the bar and snapping the obligatory selfies for social media: one with the bar. One with my hand on my Lorraine Sears necklace and a sultry look on my face. And another pressing a kiss to the side of my glass, leaving the perfect deep red imprint of my lipstick.
The Mirage. Lorraine Sears. And Tobi James lipstick. They all paid for the photos I’d post tonight for my seventeen million followers.
Social Media Influencer wasn’t on my list of things I wanted to be when I grew up, but who would turn down getting paid to post photos? Sure, it wasn’t saving lives or ruling over a business empire… but I lived in the same luxury apartment complex as people who did those things and made more money than most of them. They could roll their eyes all they wanted, but there was no arguing with the fancy apartment, expensive clothes, or the once-in-a-lifetime experiences it afforded me.
“Are you sure?” Rosa shifted in her seat, the quiver in her voice sending off warning bells in my head.
She wasn’t worried about the crush of people. She was worried about getting caught. It was understandable, except I was the one taking almost all of the risk, and if I wasn’t worried…
“It’s going to be fine.” I made sure I had her attention when I spoke, putting my phone down and letting out a throaty laugh as though she’d said something funny; there was an image to maintain and fear couldn’t be a part of it. “I’m going to be fine.”
The photos weren’t why we were here tonight. Not even close. They were just for show.
For the last two years, my social media persona has been a façade. Ironic, really, because that was all social media was to begin with; a farce. Your best face forward. But I’d taken it a step further. Being an influencer was now my cover story.
“More people means more distractions.” I lifted my glass in her direction, holding her hesitant gaze firmly until she clinked her own glass against it. “Relax,” I mouthed just before we drank.
If she didn’t, she was going to blow our only shot.
I let my eyes wander around the room again. Low lights. Dark walls. Opulent, old-world decorations. Champagne and expensive liquor flowed in gold-rimmed glasses. The pulse of the electric music adorned the air with a low, provocative beat. An array of expensive colognes and perfumes seducing every molecule of oxygen into submission.
The Mirage lived up to every bit of its illustrious reputation. It was decadence and depravity all rolled into one.
“Hello, ladies.” A bald man in a suit stepped up to us. He smiled and let his eyes wander casually—carelessly down my body. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m the man who’s about to buy you another drink.” His gaze stopped at my chest—the kind of exaggerated stop you do at a stop sign when there’s a police officer watching you.
I counted to three, and even by then his eyes hadn’t left my tits. Perfect. This guy was cringey, but his demeanor was nothing short of applause for the role I was playing. With my short, low-cut clingy black dress, sky-high heels, full hair, and makeup… I was the bait.
The lure.
The honey trap.
“Oh really?” I arched one of my perfectly outlined brows.
“How can I not?” The leer of his gaze took another swipe over me, this time lingering on how high my dress rode up on my thighs. “You’re one of the Kardashians, aren’t you? I swear I won’t tell.”
In my periphery, I caught Rosa stifling a laugh. I owed her twenty bucks every time someone referred to me as a Kardashian.
Sure, it was great that I didn’t have to go through countless plastic surgeries to get an hourglass figure that could stop time, an ass that always drew a stare, and a set of lips that stopped a man cold, because if I had, the lesson would’ve been a whole lot harder—and more expensive—to learn that being beautiful wasn’t a shortcut to true love.
At eighteen, I’d thought being a brunette bombshell would make it easy to find the one. At twenty-seven, I’d accepted my physical appearance for what it was: a prize. Something to be won, not someone to be loved. So, for the last two years, I’d turned that weakness into a weapon.
“No, I’m not, but I’m so flattered you think so.” I kept my smile wide. “And I’m actually here with my girlfriend.”
I reached over and pulled Rosa in for a kiss, our lips locking for long enough to be convincing.
“Goddamn, I need a drink.” Bald guy walked away, desperately waving down the bartender as we broke out laughing.
“You know I’d happily be your girlfriend.” Rosa winked.
The first time I’d kissed Rosa… well, she’d actually kissed me. We’d been in a similar situation. Random guy hitting on me at a bar while we were waiting for our mark. He’d been pretty insistent, so Rosa grabbed me by the back of my neck and planted her mouth on mine. I’d told her there was no need for an apology as long as we could use that ruse in the future.
“Trust me, I wish you could be, too,” I said wryly to my friend who was as interested in women as she was in men.
I reached in my clutch for my lipstick, wanting to replace the layer I’d left on my glass. As soon as I went to use my phone as a mirror, it lit up with a missed call. Another one. Bringing the total of three calls from Dante since Rosa and I left my apartment.
My phone buzzed. And there was voice mail number three.
I swiped the notification away. I’d already listened to his spiel about how he didn’t want me frequenting the Mirage. How he and the security firm he worked for had been involved in the case against the original owners and that there could still be drugs and other dangerous things going on.
Like he had a say over a twenty-nine-year-old adult.
“I’m sure Dante would be over the moon,” I quipped and uncapped the lipstick; I actually liked this one.
“Did he call again?” Her brow creased.
“It’s fine. I’ll handle him.” I set my phone on do not disturb.
“Jul,” she said lowly. “You said that last weekend when he came up here to check on you, and Rob almost had to shelve our whole mission.”
I made a show of applying the stain on my lips, letting it cover up the biting retort I felt brewing on my tongue.
Dante Lozano was simultaneously the world’s best and most annoyingly protective older brother. There were a million reasons. Being the oldest and only boy with five younger sisters was a start. Then having our dad die in the line of duty when he was a teen and we were even younger compounded the responsibility. And when he became a police officer… his protectiveness was given a badge.
My problem was that I’d always been the rebellious one. Maybe it was a middle-child thing. Maybe it was that my older sisters, Maria and Regina, were the responsible and driven ones. Maybe it was that Carina and Sofia were the smart and shy ones. Maybe rebellious was the only thing left for me. Or maybe I just didn’t want to be known as the beautiful one. Not that my sisters weren’t gorgeous; they were. But I had it all: the curves, the lips, the eyes, the hair. Somewhere along the way, I realized that was all I was going to be remembered for if I didn’t do something about it; so I did.
And the only thing more memorable than being beautiful is being bad.
So, I made it my mission to be bad. Not bad bad—not criminal bad. But I tested my brother over the years. Tried his patience. Tried his limits. Snuck out. Drank with friends. Broke curfew. Dared to date boys. When Dante left SFPD and moved to Carmel, I guess I settled for a little bit. And so did my brother—a wife and twin boys would do that to a man.
Then, two years ago, my younger sister saved a man’s life and fell in love with him… and everything changed. I’d never been a jealous person, but suddenly my little sister had something I wanted—needed. Not love. I was already resigned to that. But purpose.
And that was when Rob found me and showed me, I could be bad in order to do good.
“I handled him.”
“You’re not good at lying to him.” Or me, went unsaid as she swirled the ice in her almost-empty glass.
I gritted my teeth but refused to let my frustration break through. Every manicured and made-up inch of me was here for a purpose, and my brother’s overprotectiveness wasn’t going to ruin it.
“He believed me enough to leave,” I reminded her, pressing my lips together and shoving the tube of gloss back into my purse. “I’m sure he’s just calling to warn me to behave while he’s out of the country with Lenni and the boys.”
Dante’s wife was an actress famous for her role as the dragon queen in the hit TV show A Song of Dragons. She was about to start filming the new season in New Zealand and Iceland for the next six months, and my brother and their kids were traveling with her.
Six months where he couldn’t be overbearing about my dating life… and where I could learn how to better bury the truth.
The only thing worse than me dating too many men was putting myself in danger.
“You know, if I had a man as protective of me as Dante is of you, I’d climb all over that,” Rosa quipped, setting her glass on the bar and then gently brushing back her full, dark curls.
In another life, my beautiful African American friend had been a model. Tall. Impossibly yet naturally skinny. Graceful. In another life, her appearance had been the only thing that mattered, and that was why Rob chose her, too.
Because beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Like a brick. Broad and dense, jammed into the eye, making it impossible to see anything else.
It was what we counted on.
“Ugh.” I shuddered. “I love my brother, but I could never be with a man who was even close to being that protective.” Being a thing to protect was just as objectifying as being a thing to admire.
“I’m sure you’d change your tune if he was close to being that hot,” she teased and winked at me.
“Ew, stop.” My fake gag started to turn into a smile but faltered when my gaze snagged over her shoulder.
At the end of the bar stood the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.
And when you’re a ten by society’s standards, you meet a lot of other tens who think the physical equation is all that matters.
But this man… he wasn’t a ten. He was a 911 kind of hot.
Even in the dim light, his olive skin gleamed golden. He wasn’t clean-shaven like every other pretty boy in the club. His beard was neatly trimmed, framed perfectly around his lush mouth. I’d never kissed a man with a beard before. My sister, the one with purpose, Carina, was married to one, but Rocco’s beard was bigger—more wild than this; she definitely had no complaints though.
Mr. 911 drank from his glass, and my legs locked tighter, watching that mouth in action. Would his beard tickle or scratch between my thighs?
His glass came down, and his dark eyes sharpened instantly on mine. They flickered with something like recognition. Color rose to my cheeks, and I wondered if he’d recognized what I was thinking—and knew I was getting wet thinking about it.
I couldn’t stop the shiver that coursed through me nor the heat it left between my thighs, but I refused to look away—refused to let him think he was having any effect on me or that he was any different from any of the other men in the room.
Except he was.
He didn’t stand out because he was hotter than the rest; he stood out because he clearly didn’t fit in. He looked nothing like the rest of the lawyers and politicians and trust-fund babies who frequented this club, tailored into their Armani suits and wearing egotistical smirks so similar they must be a free gift given with each Ivy League degree. No, every inch of Mr. 911, from his narrow waist to his broad shoulders, was draped in dark and framed by rough edges.
And his confidence? It thrived in the shadows, letting everyone else fight for the superficial spotlight. But it was his eyes that captured me—that told me everything I needed to know.
I wasn’t fooling him.
His gaze didn’t break from mine. Not for my red lips. Not for my breasts popping out from my low-cut dress nor my hips stretching the tight fabric even higher on my thighs. There was no brick of beauty blinding him to the real me, and I shivered, the thought making me feel more exposed than had I been sitting here completely naked.
“Juliana…”
At Rosa’s voice, I instantly snapped my eyes to the door, cursing myself for being distracted on a mission. The only men allowed in my life were the ones I could fool with a warm smile and suggestive stare.
A group of such men had just entered the club, everything about them fitting with the vibe, but there was one in particular who stood out. Not because he was emergency-level gorgeous or had a haunting expression, he stood out because he saw himself above the rest—a man who committed murder and thought he could get away with it.
“That’s him,” I confirmed.
Paul McCullough. The youngest addition to the McCullough Law dynasty. His grandfather was former Judge Randolph McCullough. His father and two uncles, Peter, Alexander, and Ralph McCullough, all lawyers, along with his older brother, David.
There wasn’t a person in the city who hadn’t heard of McCullough & Sons, Attorneys at Law, who didn’t know of their high-profile clients all across the country, nor their work internationally. And there wasn’t a criminal in their vicinity who didn’t trust these men to shield them from the law.
I knew he’d see me. At some point, Paul’s eyes would swing past the bar and they’d lock on all the attributes that mistook me for a Kardashian. And that would make him mistake the come over look in my eyes for something other than what it really was. A trap.
“We’re on,” I murmured to Rosa, keeping my smile coy and my attention locked on Paul.
He chatted and laughed with his boys but his eyes—that superficial fascination couldn’t break from me. Looking at him, you’d never guess he lost his fiancée three weeks ago.
Looking at him, you’d never guess how close he was to getting away with her murder.
As he headed toward us, I let my gaze stray around the room. I couldn’t seem too eager; I needed him desperate. Normally, I looked for Rob in the room—Robyn DuBois. The woman who led our little ring of deception. The one who started it all. Somehow, even with her red hair, she still managed to blend into the crowd. But tonight, I looked at Rosa.
We’d taken on powerful marks before, but for some reason, Paul worried her more than the others.
“Ready?” I asked, my smile widening.
“I should be asking you that,” Rosa admitted under her breath before taking the last sip from her glass, her other hand working to pull out a small pill from her purse.
I was ready. My smile broadened, and I lifted my chest a little higher as Paul and his friends reached us. It was going to be fine. It had to be. Otherwise Katie would never get justice.
“Hello.” Paul’s voice was as slick as motor oil, his expression just as muddy, too.
“Hi.” I let my tongue roll through my lips, waiting for his eyes to sink in three… two… one… Anchor’s away. “How can I help you?” I slowed the first word, letting it linger on the ‘o’ sound before I finished speaking.
Like a pup on a leash, he couldn’t stop staring.
“Oh, I’m hoping I can help you, beautiful. Maybe to another round on me?”
I pretended to think about it. “I don’t take drinks from men I don’t know.”
“Oh, you know me.” Even the way he introduced himself, it was like he was introducing the Pope or the King of England. The pretentiousness made me want to gag, especially knowing the kind of man he really was. “I’m Paul McCullough. Attorney at McCullough and Sons.” He extended his hand, a giant signet ring on his ring finger. “And I have to warn you, sweetheart, as the most prominent lawyer in this city, your beauty is downright criminal.”
Vomit.
“It is?” I feigned dismay, slowly lowering my hand to his in a limp shake. “What am I going to do?”
His smile lifted on one side as easily as he’d tipped the scales of justice in his favor. “Don’t worry,” he drawled and brought my hand to his mouth. “I’ll get you off”—he paused and kissed the back of my hand—“on all charges.”
If I let them, my eyes would’ve rolled so far back in my head it might’ve turned back time. This was, by far, one of the dumbest conversations I’d ever had in my entire life. But that was what beauty did—made men dumb—and that was exactly what I needed.
“Well, I guess I can consider it over a drink.” I lifted my shoulders, the small shrug allowing the spaghetti strap of my dress to fall off one shoulder.
His lip twitched like a hunter whose prey was almost in his grasp.
I went to replace the strap, and he knocked my hand aside, running his fingers up my arm as he moved the strap back into place. I shivered like his touch wasn’t acid on my skin. Once he had it back in its spot, he left his hand on my shoulder like he’d claimed me.
Good. Let him think that. It would make it all the more satisfying in the end.
“Bartender.” Paul snapped his fingers, clearly annoyed that he even had to call for someone to help him. “Grey Goose. Double. And another round for the ladies.”
While we waited for the drinks, I introduced myself as Julia and Rosa joined the conversation, engaging Paul so I could monitor the bartender. As soon as he headed our way with our drinks, I pushed out of my seat.
“I just need to use the ladies’ room,” I murmured, making sure I brushed close to Paul’s front as I stood. I lifted my eyes to his, smiling coyly. “I’ll be right back.”
For being such a smart lawyer, Paul McCullough’s dick was as dumb as the rest of them. He played right into my hand, distracted by my proximity and the sultry promise in my eyes that he couldn’t care less that his drink had been delivered on the bar. I kept my hold on his attention as I headed for the restroom, watching his stare lower to the sway in my hips with each click of my heels, my dress catching on the crease of my ass.
And watching Rosa reach for his glass.
Everything was going according to plan, and I should’ve stuck to it. Except the bathroom was right by Mr. 911. And for as much as I fled the weight of Paul’s leer, I also was drawn to the heat of another stare.
I should’ve picked someone else. Anyone would’ve done the trick. But I didn’t want anyone. I wanted the man who thought he saw me, and I wanted to prove to myself he was just like all the rest.
When I reached the end of the bar, I broke my eyes from Paul and glanced at Rosa. Her cue. And then I proceeded to pretend to trip and stumble right into Mr. 911.
Big arms locked like steel around me—hot metal bands that held me upright. Warmth rocketed through my blood, tumbling over every disc in my spine and reaching all the way to my toes. I breathed unsteadily, the electric hum of desire unexpected but not unwelcome. I pretended to have an instant attraction to men all the time… maybe that was why it took me so off-guard when it actually happened.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Do it, I willed. Grope me. Hit on me. Something to prove that you’re no different than the man I’m here to take down.
Instead, those arms released and gently rested on my shoulders. It seemed crazy that something so strong one second could be so tender the next.
And then he pushed me away.
Shit. I sucked in a harsh breath, not prepared for the way his touch would make me forget myself and my mission or the way his distance would make me hungry.
I didn’t know what was more shocking, the hot wave of desire that crashed over me the moment we touched or the cold dose of reality when he seemed eager to get me out of his arms.
Careful, Juliana, or you’ll become the kind of fool you came here to fool.
“Oh my gosh.” I fluttered my eyelids and faked a husky laugh. “I’m so sorry.” I swayed to one side, pretending to still be a little unsteady.
My head tipped, prepared to continue my ruse, when I found my eyes lost in the depths of his. They were even darker up close. More haunted. Hollow. Like a storm that never got the chance to break.
“Are you alright?” he rasped firmly, the shadow of his beard unable to hide the harsh tic in his jaw.
No, I wasn’t alright. Not when he looked at me like that.
“I’m fine,” I murmured just as his attention shifted behind me, and I retreated to my persona, knowing what was about to happen.
“Julia!” Paul grabbed my shoulder, almost making me fall for real as he turned me to him. “Are you okay?”
If there was one thing even more potent than beauty, it was jealousy. So, seeing his prey in the arms of another man was enough to make Paul miss the other woman who’d slipped something in his drink.
I nodded and bit my lip. “Maybe I’ve already had enough to drink,” I said coyly, ignoring the sharp cut of Mr. 911’s eyes on me.
“Well, I’ve got you now.” Paul glared at Mr. 911, but that was all he was going to do. The man in front of me was much larger and more imposing than everything about Paul McCullough except maybe his ego.
“So sorry,” I murmured again and let Paul guide me toward the restroom, refusing to allow myself another glance at the man I’d purposely bumped into. It would be better for both of us if we completely forgot it ever happened.
Paul waited while I went into the ladies’ room, using the minutes to catch my breath and give myself a little pep talk.
One shot. We had one shot at this—at him. And I wasn’t going to blow it.
Especially not on a stranger whose disinterest was as refreshing as it was disheartening.
* * *
“In here.” I exaggerated each panting breath, smiling and fumbling to open a door to a private room off the main floor of the club.
Rob had connections all over the city, so I didn’t ask questions when she told me to take Paul down the private hall next to the bar and use the third door on the right.
“What room is this?” Paul slurred but followed me inside.
“Who cares?” I laughed and shut the door, pulling him to me and kissing him again. He tasted rancid. Like food that looked fine but was moldy and rotted on the inside.
But I shoved that thought aside, feeling him sway against me.
Good. There wasn’t much time.
After the bathroom, we returned to the bar. Paul’s one friend was waiting—saying the others had left and we should leave, too. Rosa laughed and smiled, but I knew she was panicking. What we did need time to work—time he wasn’t giving us. There should’ve been at least another ten minutes at the bar before moving to a private room, but Paul wouldn’t be swayed.
If I didn’t act right then, he was going to leave the club, and any chance we had to bring him to justice would walk out with him.
So, I pressed myself to his side and told him I knew somewhere private we could go.
One look was all I had to wordlessly tell Rosa it was going to be fine—to just stay calm and keep watch. As I led him away, I heard him tell his buddy to go check out the upper floors and that he’d be back in fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes wasn’t long enough. Not even after the way he’d chugged down his drink. The drugs needed time to work. He needed time to relax. And when it was over, he was going to sleep for the rest of the night.
But we’d waited so long—worked so hard for tonight. I couldn’t cut the mission short now.
“You like breaking rules?” Paul bit the corner of my neck hard and dug his fingers into my ass.
I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that my body was my weapon. “Maybe.”
“Good because I like to punish,” he declared and suddenly, his hand was around my throat. I choked and gasped for air, the assault so unexpected my brain went haywire. “And I’m going to enjoy punishing you.”
Fuck, this was bad.
That was my only thought as blackness prickled at the edges of my vision. Desperation took hold and I clawed at him—his hands, his wrists—anything to get him to let go.
And all Paul did was laugh and drag one of my hands to his groin.
No. No. No.
“This is how much I like it when you fight.” I felt him grow hard against my palm.
I probably would’ve vomited if he wasn’t choking me, and then, an instant later, he used the hand bruising my throat to shove me back.
I gasped and greedily inhaled oxygen just as my legs hit the edge of the bed and I fell onto it.
This was bad. But we were so close…
He was in front of me in an instant, his meaty grip jerking my legs apart.
Fuck. This fucker was not going to rape me.
I clamped my legs closed. “Hey—” My furious protest was silenced by the fist that cracked into my face, hitting me so hard I tumbled onto the floor.
Oh god…
Spots burst in my vision, and when I could see straight, the smear of blood on my hand came into focus first. He’d punched me so hard he’d broken skin.
“Don’t talk back to me,” he snarled and threatened. “And don’t… fucking scream… because no one is going to help you. My family runs this town, so you’re going to enjoy this fuck… and you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”
I could hear the drug working. Scopolamine. His exertion pumped the disorienting truth serum faster through his blood, making him pause and slur, promising that he would soon be docile—biddable—if I could survive long enough.
If Rob let me survive long enough.
She was listening to this whole exchange. The mic in my necklace recorded everything. If I didn’t get control of this and start getting information, she was going to pull the plug and that couldn’t happen; we’d never get another shot.
Paul reached for his belt, and I scrambled off the floor. He moved quickly—not as quick as the first time, but quick enough to grab my dress and tear it as he threw me into the wall. My head smacked into it, and I crumbled to the ground.
I heard myself cry out, but adrenaline blotted the pain.
“That’s it. Keep trying to run.” He groaned, massaging himself like the prospect of fucking a half-beaten woman was the epitome of a turn-on. “I’ll catch you… don’t… worry…”
He stepped toward me, slower and more unsteady on his feet, but I wasn’t going to take the chance. I wasn’t letting this piece of shit lay another hand on me.
“Actually, I’m the one going to catch you,” I snapped and kicked him in the groin.
He doubled over with a shout of pain, and that was my moment. I could’ve crawled to the door. Fled. Waited for Rosa and Rob to find me and abort the whole mission. But then he’d get away with it all. Killing Katie. Hurting me. And I couldn’t let that happen.
So, I crawled past the easy escape to the far side of the room. When I looked back, my vision struggled to focus; I was pretty sure my eye was swollen shut from where he’d hit me. But I just needed to hold out long enough for the drugs to kick in.
“You fucking cunt!” he roared, but when he tried to stand and lunge for me, he couldn’t. “What’s… happening…”
Thank god.
“How about you tell me what happened,” I demanded, my chest heaving as I stood behind the desk chair. “Tell me what you did to Katie.”
He blinked twice, rage focusing his gaze on me.
“Who are you?” he forced out. “An undercover whore?”
Fear knotted in my gut when he used the wall to help him stand. How was he still strong enough for this?
“Tell me how you killed her.” My knuckles turned white on the back of the chair.
“Fucking cunt.” He stumbled forward. “You’re going to pay…” He collapsed to the floor.
“You’re going to tell me how you killed her,” I said, slowly moving from behind the chair. “Tell me what you did with the body, Paul.”
He shook, rage bleeding from his expression as he fought the effects of the drugs.
“Fucking… cunt…”
“Where’s Katie’s body?” I felt the pain in my throat now that he was weakening. Every word. Every swallow. Everything worked, but it worked like it was made of parts that no longer meshed perfectly after his hand had crushed them.
“In the woods,” Paul said groggily, a trace of anger still lodged in his tone, hating that he couldn’t stop himself from confession.
Good. Hate yourself, you piece of shit.
“Where?” I demanded, moving closer to him—I had to, or I wouldn’t pick up the words he was mumbling—the location where he’d dumped her body.
My entire body was consumed with pain as though it were on fire, but that didn’t matter because we were finally going to get justice.
“Tell me why—how you did it—”
The door burst open, and Rosa cried out as soon as she saw me.
“No,” I protested as she rushed to my side and shielded me from Paul who was now lying on the floor, his breathing labored.
“We have to go. They’re looking for him,” Rosa muttered, trying to get a good look at my face, which was why I kept it focused on Paul.
“No, we can’t.” I shook my head, ignoring the sudden pain it injected into my skull. “I’m fine, and he’s down. We have to get the truth—”
“Juliana.”
I looked up.
Rob stood in the doorway. She was wearing a skintight black top, a low V sliced down the front and wide-legged black pants. But the reason I hadn’t seen her earlier was because she was wearing a blonde wig over her bright red hair.
“It’s done.”
“Please, just another minute, and I’ll have his confession.” The urge to sob latched and twisted in my chest.
“Another minute, and the only person being arrested tonight will be you,” she declared lowly, coming to me, taking hold of my arm, and propelling me from the room.
Her grip didn’t falter as she led us down the hall and through a labyrinth of doors until we reached the alley behind the club.
There, a black car waited. Rob opened the door and motioned to it. “Rosa, go home. I’ll be in touch.”
“But—”
“I’ve got her.”
Rosa looked at me one last time, nodded, and then climbed into the back seat.
The two of us were supposed to be getting in that car. It was where I was supposed to pass Rob my necklace—the pendant housing the microscopic microphone that should’ve recorded the whole of his confession. If I had gotten it.
“Shit.” I shook my head, trying to stay above the swells of anger rushing over me. “We should’ve stayed. I was so close. He told me where the body was. Just another minute, and he would’ve confessed—”
“It’s enough. We’ll still get him.”
“No.” I shook. “I didn’t get everything. I didn’t get his confession. It’s not enough—”
“Juliana.” Once more, the sound of her voice stopped me cold.
Robyn DuBois was not a woman to be challenged. There was a fierceness to her that matched her determination for justice.
“We’ll get him because a man like this doesn’t get away with murder for long. I don’t care who he is—who his family is.” Rob gave my shoulders a little shake. “If we know where Katie’s body is, if the police find it… Justice will find him—I will find him, I promise.”
As the leader of our little spy ring, she always knew more. Everything we did was part of something larger—a piece to a puzzle of greater good. And as broken and beaten as I was, I had no choice but to trust her.
“Okay.” I winced as I tried to swallow. “Then what do I do now?”
I could pretend a lot of things—make up a ton of stories about a bad date, but there was no story good enough to explain my swollen eye and my bruised throat to anyone who saw me.
“You’re coming with me,” she declared, half-turning to unlock a car parked in the far corner of the lot. “Until you’re healed, and I know exactly how much Paul remembers about tonight, I’m getting you out of the city for a few weeks.”
We knew the risks with scopolamine, that it affected everyone’s memory differently, but it was the best drug for the job. We were able to safely get information from our targets and then plant different memories in their minds than what actually happened; memories where they got what they were hoping for—something their aggrandized pride would never let them doubt.
“Where are we going?” I murmured, following her to what I realized was a very expensive silver Mercedes.
She opened the passenger door for me. “To stay with my family.”
“You have family?” I blurted out stupidly, sinking into the seat with a wince. Guess I hit that wall a lot harder than I realized.
She buckled me in. “Adopted family. Two brothers and a sister,” she answered and shut the door.
A single exhale was all it took for the pain to settle in. My throat. My face. My head. It burned. It throbbed. It seared. But none of it hurt as bad as the knowledge that even after all this, I’d failed. I hadn’t gotten enough of Paul’s confession. Now, we had to hope there was evidence on the body because if there wasn’t…
Robyn slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. From the console, she pulled out a bottle of water and some Advil, making me take it even though it killed my throat to swallow. With that in my system, I waited for the car to move. When it didn’t, I peeled my good eye open and saw Robyn pulling out the pins keeping her wig in place. Seconds later, a swish of blonde flew past my face, the wig landing with a thump into the back seat.
“Where does your family live?” I murmured, feeling like I was seeing our ring leader with a little more clarity. Even if it was only with one good eye.
She didn’t respond right away. When we pulled out of the parking lot of the club, I closed my eyes again, the oncoming headlights too painful to endure.
“My brothers and I have property—secure property—just outside of Carmel Cove,” she surprised me by saying several minutes later.
“Carmel—” I winced. “My brother lives in Carmel.”
Until he left the country in a couple of days…
“I know.” Of course, she did. “But he’s not going to come looking for you at a motorcycle garage.”
“Motorcycle garage?” I croaked and hazarded a look at her again.
Rob knew a lot of people, and though I clearly never envisioned her as having family, the last thing I expected them to be was bikers.
“You’ll be safe there, trust me,” she murmured. “Just rest, Juliana.”
I sighed and sagged back, whispering a few seconds later. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” I was surprised when she glanced at me, the unmistakable sheen of tears in her eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I should’ve handled Paul. Now rest.”
My eyelids closed once more. And as the pain began to ebb, all I thought was that if she’d handled Paul—if I hadn’t been at the club tonight—then I never would’ve seen Mr. 911. Never would’ve known just how beautiful a man could be. Nor how hard he could feel. Nor how he could turn my blood electric.
It should’ve been a poor consolation for failing to get Paul’s confession, but for some reason—maybe the head wound—it wasn’t.
If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have met him. A man who saw me. I didn’t need to know him to be grateful he existed.
It’s been too long since I last read a book from the Covington Security series and I’d kinda forgotten just how much I enjoy these books!!
I have to admit that I’ve not read all of the books yet but even though I’ve missed a couple of the instalments it didn’t detract from my enjoyment of the read.
I thought Kane & Juliana were well matched. Both have secrets, both have avoided relationships due to their work/past but when they initially see each other they have a palpable attraction that neither of them could deny.
My heart hurt a little for Kane and what he’d lost (I understood his thought process, I just didn’t quite agree with it!). Juliana has a whole facade that she shows to family and friends and a perceived reputation as trouble where her big brother is concerned and it was sorta sad that she had to hide so much of who she was from those closest to her.
I liked the storyline, the intrigue and action. Rebecca writes really good ‘bad guys’ and there were 2 in Braved that were seriously detestable.
For me this is a solid 4.5* – it didn’t hit 5* for me as Juliana’s flip flopping thoughts and bloody mindedness and both their dodgy communication drove me a tad crazy at times.
Sad the series has ended but looking forward to finding out more about the guys at the garage and what they’re all about.
AUTHOR BIO
Dr. Rebecca Sharp, while using a pen name, is actually a doctor living in Pennsylvania with her husband – the love of her life.
She enjoys working in her practice with her father as well as letting her creativity run free as an author. Growing up she’s always loved a good love story and finally decided to give writing one of her own a go.
After graduating with her doctoral degree, she now enjoys spending that thing called free time traveling with her husband, cooking, and knitting.
Matt I put my truck in park and hop out, walking toward the door with trepidation. I hope the food tastes better than this place looks. A metal bell chimes overhead as I open the door. I’m surprised to find the inside is quite different than what greets you in the service area of this place. The area is bright with white linoleum floors and shiny gunmetal countertops. There’s a soda fountain and coffee stations to the left and the cashier’s check out to the right. A portly appearing older gentleman appears to be reading the newspaper, sitting on a stool behind the counter. “Hi. Are you Elliot? I’m working with my brother this summer and he sent me to pick up lunch for his crew.” “Ah, Harry your brother?” he asks around a toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Yes, sir.” “Well, any brother of Harry’s is a friend of mine. I’m Jo.” “Matt. Nice to meet you. Oh. Salty Jo is you?” He grins, and I instantly have the feeling this man is a fixture in Candy Cane Key. “I don’t recall this place from when I grew up here.” “What’re you? Thirty?” “Close. Twenty-eight.” The bell chimes again, and I notice customers meandering around the place. No one seems the slightest bit concerned about the condition of the place. I’m sure they have to pass inspections with the health department, but I still can’t help being a tad concerned about eating lunch from a place like this. “Well, we’ve been here as long as you’ve been on the planet, son. Although it probably looked a bit better back then. Time and multiple tropical storms have taken their toll on the place. After a while, it gets to feel silly sinking any more money into it. But your brother has come to our aid more than once for the important stuff.” This makes me smile. My brother really is a good dude. “Speaking of your brother, I guess we need to keep his boys fed.” Jo removes the toothpick that remains in place throughout our conversation and points toward his right. “Elliot’s over there. In the deli area.” A mischievous smirk curls the corner of his mouth. What’s that about? “Thanks.” “Nice to meet you, Matt. Hope to see you ‘round.” I turn in the direction of the deli and feel my stomach grumble as I’m hit with the aroma of fried chicken. Now I live in a mountain town in North Carolina where home cooking is a staple. So for the scent of these gas station offerings before me to cause me to salivate says something. Bending forward, I take in the options within the glass case. There are perfectly prepared pieces of chicken, both on and off the bone, macaroni and cheese, green beans, collard greens, baked apples, and an assortment of pies. Hell, they even have banana pudding here. As my eyes travel to the back of the display area, I find I’m drooling for an entirely different reason. A set of shapely calves, thick thighs, and the hottest backside I’ve ever seen is bent over before me. This girl is leaning into the oven while her tiny cut-off shorts ride up her legs, causing my dick to twitch. Hell, is she on the menu? As if on cue, she stands to her full height. She’s probably about five foot five, with generous curves in all the right places. Those perky tits have to be at least a C cup, if not more. They are perfectly proportioned to her rounded hips and trim waste. Her thick auburn hair is pulled up in a messy bun, covered with a hair net. Yet, I can’t help picturing it tumbling down her back toward that fantastic ass. Shit. I don’t remember anyone in Candy Cane Key looking like this when I lived here. Well, maybe one girl, but she was just that. A girl. While this one is all woman. I barely finish my thought before said stunner turns to face me. While I stand here with my mouth hanging open at the beauty wielding silver tongs before me, I’m met with the biggest green eyes I’ve ever seen. She simply gives me the once over as if this happens all the time. This curvy girl has my mouth watering when it suddenly hits me. Wait. Do these guys come here for the hot chicken or the hot chick?
AUTHOR BIO
Born and raised in Virginia, LM Fox currently lives in a suburb of Richmond with her husband, three kids, and a chocolate lab.
Her pastimes are traveling to new and favorite places, trying new foods, a swoony book with either a good cup of tea or coffee, margaritas on special occasions, and watching her kids participate in a variety of sports.
She has spent the majority of her adult life working in emergency medicine and her books are written in this setting. Her main characters are typically in the medical field, EMS, fire, and/or law enforcement. She enjoys writing angsty, contemporary romance starring headstrong, independent heroines you can’t help but love and the hot alpha men who fall hard for them.
GEM: a privately-funded organization operating independently in the search for—and the rescue and recovery of—missing and exploited children. Although, at times working in conjunction with law enforcement, GEM aims to ensure the victims receive justice…by whatever means necessary.
____
Operator Pearl; layered, mysterious, a protector.
She masks as delicate, analyzes, and moves stealthily.
Hot on the trail of a young accomplice in a child exploitation ring, Pearl finds herself posing as a teenager to get close. Unfortunately, joining a group of kids on a wilderness quest means stepping out of her comfort zone and into uncertainty. But with the target in her sights her focus stays razor-sharp.
The last thing she needs is the dogged journalist who’s been close on her heels catching up and rattling her cage. When he inserts himself into her investigation, she has no choice but to go along.
Thrown together in a mutual pursuit of justice, the negative energy between them sparks up in a new way.
I take a sip of my coffee, wincing at the strong dark brew, but I can’t allow myself to indulge in cream and sugar. Next thing you know, I’ll be stealing bacon from his plate.
“Are you suddenly on some kind of health kick?” he asks, tilting his head slightly as he doctors up his own cup with copious amounts of both. “Or was last night’s raid on snacks an anomaly?”
“That wasn’t for me,” I fib, trying to look down my nose at him. A hard thing to do when he towers over me by a good foot, even sitting down.
“Liar.” He grins, looking much too smug. “So, are the egg white omelet and black coffee penance for last night’s Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and chips? Because I don’t think you need to worry about your weight.”
I press my lips together. Little does he know weight is the last thing I’m concerned about.
“If I’d known your reason for having breakfast with me was to critique my dietary habits, I would’ve passed,” I can’t seem to stop myself from sniping.
To my surprise, he dissolves into laughter. To my annoyance it makes him even more attractive.
Suddenly, he leans across the table.
“Hey, Tiger, need I remind you who started it?”
Sh*t.
He’s got a point.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I quickly suggest. “Why journalism?”
He follows my segue with ease, answering without hesitation.
“Justice.”
“For your mother?” I probe.
I know his mother worked in housekeeping at Transition House and was supposed to have been killed for what she knew. During the years I was there, I recall a few black women on staff, but we weren’t really given the chance to interact. It’s possible one of them was Lee’s mother.
“That’s how it started, but now I simply want justice,” he clarifies. “Money, power, and inequity often get in the way.”
I hum in agreement. It’s what I’m after as well, although I’m sure our idea of justice differs greatly.
“Wouldn’t law enforcement have been the more logical choice?”
He snorts. “Not for me. Law enforcement not only could’ve prevented her death, but they were eager to write it off as an accident, ignoring evidence to the contrary.”
He’s referring to former Lanark police chief, Browning. He and his son—also law enforcement—are currently in jail on a laundry list of charges, including kidnapping and sexual exploitation of children. One of those assholes gave me a scar when one of their bullets grazed my head during the rescue of Mitch’s daughter, Sawyer.
“Your egg white and spinach omelet? And one classic breakfast for you.”
The waitress slides our plates in front of us and sets a thermos of coffee in the middle of the table.
“That way I don’t have to bother you,” she explains with a wink.
“That looks anemic,” Lee comments, pointing at my plate.
Sadly, it does. The smell of bacon grease teasing my nostrils doesn’t help, and my eyes drift over to his breakfast, which looks amazing.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mumbles as he grabs a couple of strips of bacon and deposits them on my plate. “Eat,” he orders.
It’s on my lips to tell him off, but instead I grab a piece. With a satisfying crunch, I sink my teeth into it, closing my eyes and groaning when the greasy saltiness hits my palate.
When I open them, I catch Lee watching, an unfamiliar gleam in his eyes.
USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories. With forty-plus books already published, she continues to create characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy. Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We’ve Read All Year Award for “Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, and Finalist for the 2020 Kindle Book Award with “When Hope Ends”, Freya spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
Layla James has always been in the business of love and never mixes business with pleasure, but when Cole Reed walks back into her life, she’s left questioning everything.
Can this blast from the past convenience Layla to set her rules aside and take a chance on love?
Fans of secret fling romances will love TWIST OF DATE by Lauren Helms, a steamy matchmaker romance.
Blurb
Once upon a time, there was a charming restaurant owner and an unsuspecting matchmaker who refused to mix business with pleasure…
Layla I’ve always been in the business of love. Happily Ever After, Inc. has thrived under my leadership and the hard set of rules that I set for myself. But when a never quite forgotten blast from my past walks into my life, I’m suddenly questioning everything and everyone around me.
Cole Reed is everything I want in a man – handsome, successful, and charming.
There’s just one small hiccup…Cole is Happily Ever After’s latest client, and he’s got his sights on me.
Cole I’m used to getting what I want and I’ve never left a date unhappy. So when my grandmother insists I need to work with a matchmaker…her lifelong best friend at that…I’m skeptical. Especially when my path crosses with the girl that always seemed to get away.
She’s sexy, smart, and determined – everything I’ve always admired about her. And this time, I refuse to let her get away.
There’s just one small problem…Layla James is my so-called matchmaker’s granddaughter – and the owner of the matchmaking company that’s just taken me on.
It feels like a weird twist of date that’s put the two of us back in each other’s life, but Layla doesn’t quite see it that way.
Can I convince her to break a few rules and take a chance on our own happily ever after?
“About?” He chuckles. His hand reaches out like he’s going to touch me again but drops his hand into his pocket.
“You being here in Indy. Meeting with Ruth,” I explain. I won’t share the Googling sleuth Stella just performed.
“Ah, yeah, it’s been a hell of a long time, Lays.” He uses the old nickname like it’s still second nature to him. The reminder of how he insisted on adding the S when we merely acquaintances, friends at best. While we had chemistry, it was never the main factor in the relationship we had. His nickname for me had always baffled me, but I wouldn’t deny that I loved it.
“Ten years,” I say, nearly in a whisper.
A seductive gleam flowers in his eyes as he grins back at me. “You look damn good, Layla.” In my building and meeting with my grandmother.
I smile at his compliment. “So do you, Cole.” He’s wearing is flirty smile, so if I don’t direct him off this flirty path, I’ll regret it later.
“Why were you meeting with Ruth?” I try not to sound stern, but I’m not flirting right now.
He lets out a sigh. “She’s apparently my matchmaker now.”
A heavy ball forms deep in my gut. That’s what I was afraid of. She’s going to find him a match, and that will be that. I set my lips in a firm line, switching on my professional mode.
“Well, that’s perfect. Ruth is the best.” My eyes dart away from his face. I can’t continue to look at him. He practically belongs to someone else now.
He doesn’t seem to notice the difference in my demeanor, which is good, but his next words cause me to reinforce the walls.
“I want to catch up. Soon. Can we set a date?”
I gulp before looking back at him, opting to look at his chest rather than his face. He’s wearing a black winter jacket, but it’s unzipped, his dark-colored, green maybe, button-down showing through.
“Oh, yeah, maybe,” I say.
“Let me have your phone. I had to get a new number a few years ago.” He reaches out his hand, his palm face up. I stare at it a moment, then pull out my phone against my better judgment.
I assume he’s entering his number and I’m correct when his own phone pings from somewhere on his person. His grin is huge as he hands my phone back to him.
“Now I’ve got your number.” He reaches out one more time and squeezes my bicep. “I’ve got to run. Potential new distributor meeting.”
I nod, forcing a smile.
Damn, he’s so attractive and all I want to do is snag his hand and pull him over to a table and catch up. But that won’t happen.
“All right. It was good seeing you,” I tell him. Truth.
Then he catches me off guard, pulling me into him for a hug. “So fucking good seeing you, Lays.” I feel his warm breath in my hair before he steps away. “Promise we will catch up soon, yeah?”
I nod, still taking in everything about that hug. His manly, woodsy scent, his warmth, the feel of his body around mine. His chuckle follows him as he leaves. I watch him leave until I can’t see him anymore.
What just happened?
I look down at my hand and see my phone still in it. I swipe open the messages to see what he texted himself.
Me: you’re still so hot, Cole. #perfection
Rereading the message from himself, he replies and my eyebrow rises.
Cole: Damn, Lays, you know how to make a guy blush.
I snort at his bullshit reply with a quick eye roll emoji. Even though he’s probably halfway down the street by now, I can practically hear his laughter.
About Lauren Helms
Lauren Helms is a romance author her nerdy and flirty contemporary words. Lauren has forever been an avid reader from the beginning. After starting a book review website, that catapulted her fully into the book world, she knew that something was missing. While working for a video game strategy guide publisher, she decided to mix what she knew best–video games and romance. She decided to take the plunge and write her first novel, Level Me Up. Several published novels later, Lauren created PR company, Indie Pen PR, to help other authors promote their books.
Lauren lives in Indianapolis, Indiana sharing her love of books and video games with her own Gamer Boy husband and three young kid nerds who will hopefully grow up to share the love of things that united Lauren and her husband on their own happily ever after.
Warrior. Doctor. Spy. I am Commander Helion, a heartless terror, relentless and unforgiving. Merciless.
My destiny is not to claim a female, to have a family, to be rendered helpless by love.
Despite this, I am matched. A beautiful human female is now mine. Despite my warnings, she is determined to leave her mark on me, body and soul. Honor demands I resist. I tell her the truth. I will not place a mating collar around her neck. I cannot protect her—especially from me—my choices—the horrors I face every day. Just one moment of weakness and she gets under my skin, makes me want things I cannot have. She is everything I am not—and the most dangerous creature I have ever faced.
Claiming her—keeping her—is not possible with my pivotal role in this never-ending war. There is no place in my duties for desire. For need. Too many innocents count on me for protection. Too many lives are at stake, including hers.
The enemy is always ready and waiting, but I never expected her to be among them.
For the first time in my hardened life, I question my sanity. My dark soul. I begin to understand exactly what my enemies have stolen from me—and realize there is no limit to what a heartless warrior will sacrifice for love.
Oh, heck yes. I was ready for lots of mind-blowing private time with two hot mates. Sooooo, ready. My body had been willing for a while. My mind had taken its sweet time catching up. Now every part of me was fully on board. Heart. Mind. Body. Two mates? So very, very naughty. I squirmed, just a bit. I couldn’t keep the restless need from escaping. I hadn’t been touched by a man in so long. I tried to recall the last time—before the—before that. I couldn’t remember clearly, but I was pretty sure it had been years. “The transport window is closing, my lady. If we wait much longer, I will need to delay your departure.” The Prillon warrior in control of the transport pad interrupted our long goodbye. “Of course. So sorry.” I gave Makayla one final, super-tight hug, and walked up the few stairs to join my soon-to-be transported suitcase so we could be flung across the galaxy. The officer nodded, his large hands moving competently over the controls. Would my mates touch me with that level of intense concentration? Were their hands that big? That skilled? What was wrong with me? I was thinking like a horny teenager. “Are you ready, my lady?” The transport officer had kind eyes. He knew where I was going. And why. I nodded. The hum of the transport pad rose up from the floor like an electricity bath. The extra energy building up for my jump through space made me squirm like a shelter puppy about to be released from its cage. Finally free. Oh, yes. I was ready to meet my new mate. Commander Zarren Helion. Even his name sounded formidable. I just knew he was going to be one hundred percent perfect. *** Commander Zarren Helion, Intelligence Core, Black Fleet, Sector 438
The Prillon warrior sitting before me bled from multiple wounds, none fatal, each strategically placed to inflict maximum pain. Lieutenant Oberan Arcas of Prillon Prime. I have to break him.
#2
I sighed as I looked at the empty room all around me. “We can be friends, Zarren. On Earth, we would call this a marriage of convenience. Two people choosing a partner for the external benefits each will receive, rather than emotional dependence. But I must warn you, there will be furniture in this room when I am your mate. And a bigger bed.” His quickly drawn breath revealed his unease. “I do not understand you, female.” “You don’t have to make sense of it, you just need to believe what I say is true.” He shuddered. “I am a monster, Willow. Nothing less.” I smiled. “Then you are exactly what I need.” A monster so big, mean and scary that all the other monsters—and Nexus units—would run away and hide—and leave me the hell alone. With my commander, I would be safe, hidden away on his spaceship, surrounded by warriors—but no longer alone. I’d never felt more sure, more calm, about a decision in my life. His hand shifted, moved the end of the collar we held to meet its opposite at the back of his neck. The mating collar locked in place. A hurricane of raw lust blasted my system. I gasped at the force of Zarren’s emotions, unable to hide my shock at the ferocity. So outwardly calm. Stoic. Controlled. Inside? A storm. Battle. He hurt. He raged. He wanted. Now that the collars were synched, his emotions roared around inside me like hurricane force winds. I took them all, savored his desire, raw need, and a deep, powerful rage I had never allowed myself to feel.
He shot to his feet, the back of the chair he had been sitting in knocked into me before teetering and falling on its side. “What have we done?”
#3
I shuddered and pushed Danika, the Hive and the sanctuary out of my head. No more Hive experiments for me, thank you very much. But feeling what Zarren was feeling? Sharing his emotions? I needed that if I was going to keep him. Desperately. Suddenly unsure, I tucked the third mating collar away inside my trunk before heading for the living room. I didn’t know if Zarren would be there when I opened the bedroom door. Didn’t have any idea whether he would have stuck around or left me here alone—probably so he could go to his comm station and send some kind of complaint or inquiry as to the Bride Program’s return policy. Leaning my forehead against the cool door, I counted backward from ten. Slowly. I hid the mating collar, curling it up in the palm of one hand so I could wrap my fingers around it in a tight fist. The collar would bind us together, make our needs and emotions one. I simply refused to believe Zarren was as cold-hearted and intractable as he seemed. If he were like that on the inside, the matching program would have sent him a robot, not a woman. Not me. Before I could lose my nerve, I opened the door and took two steps into the barren living area. To my relief, Zarren was seated at the table, head bent over his task as he organized his super-secret, not-for-me papers. He was gorgeous. The nearly constant state of arousal I’d been in since the processing simulation roared back to life. He didn’t look at me as I stepped closer, but his nostrils flared. Could he smell my need for him? His hands curled into fists on top of the table. When he spoke, his words were nearly a growl. The tortured sound encouraged me to move even closer. “What do you think you are doing, female?”
AUTHOR BIO
Grace Goodwin is a USA Today and international bestselling author of Sci-Fi and Paranormal romance with more than one million books sold. Grace’s titles are available worldwide in multiple languages in ebook, print and audio formats. Grace is an avid reader, an escape room enthusiast, sci-fi nerd, coffee fanatic, and an eternal optimist forever believing that Earth will, some day, have a Star Trek style future. Grace loves to hear from readers.
The knight charging to her rescue is the last person in the world she wants to see. Now she owes him, and he’s ready to collect.
When Serena Lambert finds herself in danger, a knight in shining armor charges out of the darkness to her rescue. More shocking than his appearance in the nick of time is the knight himself: Wyatt Tompkins, the copper-haired star of her work nightmares. Just when the Colorado Blizzard’s PR director thought she was finally rid of the biggest pain in her butt and his outrageous tabloid shenanigans … But what’s the saying about bad pennies always turning up?
Being a famous NHL goaltender comes with a lot of perks, on and off the ice, and Wyatt has taken advantage of every single one. But when he becomes the NHL’s most infamous netminder, he loses more than the fringe benefits—he forfeits his roster spot. He wants back in. Sadly, the one person who can help him salvage his image and his livelihood has written him off, despite his heroics.
Wyatt needs Serena’s seriously savvy PR skills, and he’s not beyond leveraging the payback. He’s even willing to overlook her prickly exterior to get her on his side. After all, she’s already familiar with his brand of crazy … and it doesn’t hurt that she’s easy on the eyes. Oh yeah, he’d love to get her between the sheets, but what begins to intrigue him even more is taking a deep dive into her guarded psyche.
Serena is focused on launching her career into the stratosphere and making herself indispensable to the team—as soon as she overcomes a conniving coworker. Helping Wyatt will only steal time and energy from her goal, but she can’t deny that more sizzles beneath his roguish smile. Bit by excruciating bit, Serena peels back the layers to reveal the real heart beating beneath the goalie gear.
Oil and water don’t mix, though … they merely leave an oil slick. Can these two find the right blend and net their happily-ever-after?
Giggles exploded from her. “Is this the masterful operator women have been making such a fuss about all these years?” He corralled a laugh of his own. “Glad you know women make a fuss. I assure you I’m usually much smoother than this.” “That’s not what I’m laughing at. It’s the fact that you’re a goalie who contorts himself in the net but somehow can’t get his pants off.”
#2
Voices sounded in the hall—one of them very familiar—and Wyatt took two backward strides in time to distance himself from Terry before Serena sailed into the room. She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes bouncing between them. Terry gave her a smug smile and turned toward her office but not before winking at Wyatt. “Don’t forget your promise, handsome.” Her hips swung in an exaggerated side-to-side motion, making her ass jiggle as she slowly paraded back to her office and shut the door. Serena swiveled her head to him and arched curious eyebrows. “Promise?” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and back. “She thinks I promised to … shit, I’m not sure what she thinks I promised, although I have a pretty good idea. And for the record, I didn’t promise a damn thing.” Serena crossed her arms over her chest, and his eyes drifted to the swell beneath her gray silk blouse. She wore a black pencil skirt and simple black heels that accented her trim waist and shapely legs. Today, she was professional Serena, but something about her getup was sexy as hell. Maybe because of what was hidden under those practical clothes. He took a quick inventory of the pearly buttons on her blouse and imagined popping a few to get a closer look at what he’d touched the night before. “Tompkins, would you please stop that?” He snapped his eyes back to hers. “Stop what?” “Stop looking at me like you’re a wolf and I’m a baby lamb.” Fire blazed in her aquamarine-colored eyes, drawing him in. “A lamb is a baby.” Moving closer, he fingered her loose hair. “And it’s also one of my favorite things to eat.” “Oh, for God’s sake! First, you’re canoodling with Miss Shiny Apples and now you’re trying to cozy up to me? Who does that? Never mind,” she grumbled. “I forgot who I was dealing with.” One corner of his mouth hitched in a smug smile. “Am I detecting jealousy, Lambert?” “Me, jealous? Ha!” He continued slipping the silk of her hair between his fingers. “Don’t deny it. I see that little green monster in those blue eyes. And you know what? I like it.” The few times he’d been the subject of women’s jealousy, he had found it annoying, amusing, tedious, or some combination of the three. But right now, he was warming to Serena’s version—assuming he was reading her right, and that was one big-ass assumption. She batted his hand away. “Well, don’t get used to it, buddy, because it’s all in your delusional, over-inflated opinion of yourself. We kissed last night in a moment of … lunacy. Shouldn’t have happened and won’t happen again because it didn’t mean anything.” She tossed an arm toward Terry’s closed door. “You’re a free agent, and I don’t care what you and Shiny Apples do. Have at her. You two should make a fine pair.” His hand, like his mouth, dropped like a hunk of hot lead. “Hey, wait a minute. First of all, I was not canoodling with her, whatever the hell that means. It was the other way around. She was getting friendly with me. Second of all—” Serena snorted. “And you, paragon of virtue that you are, resisted.” “No, I didn’t resist because resisting implies I was tempted in the first place, which I wasn’t. Contrary to my reputation, I do not take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way. And you know what else? She doesn’t want me. She wants what you have, like a spoiled kid would … and she’s gunning for it, so you better watch yourself, sweet cheeks.” Serena’s mouth turned down, her face contorting with an I-just-sucked-on-a-lemon look. “Are you implying I have you?” Oops. Had he just committed a Freudian slip? “Figure of speech. Although if you want me, I’m all yours.” He waggled his eyebrows.
ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE PLAYMAKERS SERIES
Third Man In (Book 2) is 99c for a very limited time!
Since childhood, all sorts of stories and characters have lived in G.K. Brady’s imagination, elbowing one another for attention, so she’s finally giving them their voice on the written page.
An award-winning writer of contemporary romance, she loves telling tales of the less-than-perfect hero or heroine who transforms with each turn of a page. She also writes historical fiction under the pen name Griffin Brady.
G.K. is a wife and the proud mom of three grown sons. When she’s not writing, she might be watching hockey, reading, traveling, drinking wine, listening to music, or gardening—sometimes all at once! She currently resides in Colorado with her very patient husband.
Genre:Standalone Contemporary Romance Release Date: July 3, 2023
Beck threw his head back in laughter. I’d just insulted the guy, and he was amused. “I guess I made a pretty sh*tty first impression.” I deadpanned. “You told me I should look someplace more respectable for my dates.” “I thought you deserved better.” “I think you’re full of sh*t. You’re only being nice now because you know I was looking for a night of no strings attached, and you think you have a shot at being my replacement.” “Am I out of the running?” I took a moment to check him out again. Damn, he’s pretty. “You’re only hanging on by a thread because you’re gorgeous.” A slow, sexy smile spread across his face. “I like your honesty.” “I like your jawline.” His eyes gleamed. “You’ll like my big di¢k even better.” I bit my bottom lip. The conversation had just taken a turn toward most of my Tinder messages—definitely a place I was more comfortable than talking about why I wanted to forget my life for a while. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” “How did you know the Tinder loser wasn’t?” Good point. I sipped my wine. “How old are you?” “Old enough that I know what to do with you, and young enough that I don’t have to take a pill to do it.” I smirked. “Is that so? You know what to do with me?” He smiled self-assuredly. “I do, yes.” The air crackled between us. For some reason, I knew this guy could deliver on his promise. Maybe it was his quiet confidence, or maybe it was that a man who looked the way he did got lots of practice. The latter would’ve been a turnoff if I was looking for more than one night, but it didn’t much matter if it served my purposes for a one-time deal. I looked into his too-blue eyes. “Tell me then.” “Tell you what?” “What you would do with me.” The wicked grin that slid across his face almost made me want to take back what I’d asked. Almost. Beck lifted his glass and gulped his drink before leaning over to my ear. “I’d start by… ★★★
Do you like texts better than email? Receive text notices of Vi’s new releases by texting the word BOOKS to 77948 You will ONLY receive a text when a new book goes live – no other messages at all!
AUTHOR BIO
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-six languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria, and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
New York Times bestselling author Dianne Duvall brings readers the next stand-alone novel in her “fast-paced and humorous” (Publishers Weekly) and “utterly addictive” (RT Book Reviews) Immortal Guardians series.
Immortal Guardians have hunted and slain psychotic vampires for thousands of years. Now someone is hunting them. Humanity remains oblivious to the existence of immortals, vampires, and gifted ones, so how does this rising nemesis even know who they are and where to find them? Could it be the machinations of an old nemesis—one they thought they defeated? Or is this something new? Because unlike the foes they’ve faced in the past, this one doesn’t just target immortals. He targets those who are near and dear to them.
A gifted one under the Immortal Guardians’ protection, Nicole has worked hard to land her dream job—that of an Immortal Guardian’s Second or mortal guard—and loves working with Sean. He’s smart. He’s funny. And despite the sometimes dark existence he leads, the two of them laugh a lot. Years spent as a special ops soldier prepared Nicole well, enabling her to keep Sean safe despite his tendency to dive headlong into danger. But can it keep her safe? The enemy they face is determined and shrewd. Uncovering his identity may require new methods of engagement and force her to take a few risks.
Sean hasn’t been immortal long, but he knows the rules. And according to the rules, Nicole is off-limits. She’s his Second. His guard. His best friend. The one person who knows him better than anyone else. Though he loves every minute he spends with her, friendship is all they can ever have… isn’t it? Sean soon begins to question that as the two of them engage in a deadly cat-and-mouse game with the enemy, one that will reveal the true depth of their feelings for each other and drive him to abandon the rules altogether.
Sean was clinging to her as if he thought she would fall off a cliff if he let go.
“Sean?” she said softly, dread pooling in her stomach.
“Mmm?” Shifting in his sleep, he snuggled closer.
Even with concern crowding her, she felt her pulse pick up at the contact. But now wasn’t the time. “Sean,” she repeated a little louder, not wanting to startle him, yet eager to get some answers.
His muscles tensed. “Nicole?”
“What happened?”
A long moment passed. Then he hugged her even closer, nearly cutting off her breath. “You almost died,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
A chill skittered through her. “Tell me.”
Without relinquishing his grip, he relayed the events of the previous night.
Nicole had to admit it unnerved her. She had almost died. She’d hoped Sean was exaggerating, but when he went into medic mode…
Yeah. It unnerved her. She swallowed hard. “Well. That didn’t exactly go according to plan, did it?”
“No.” And still, he held her.
“You brought me home after Seth healed me?”
He nodded, his chin brushing the back of her head. “Melanie said you’d be loopy for a while. And I wanted you to be comfortable.”
He’d also apparently felt quite clingy.
She frowned. Or had she felt clingy? Melanie had admitted to saying some pretty personal things to Bastien in front of several other immortals while she’d been under the influence of a bite. Nicole bit her lip as a new concern rose. “I didn’t do anything I should feel embarrassed about, did I?” A vampire’s bite didn’t just leave victims loopy. It could also lower inhibitions.
“Other than ravishing me and stealing my innocence, then farting in your sleep? No.”
She laughed. “I did not!”
“Okay. You didn’t fart in your sleep.”
She grinned. “But I did steal your innocence?”
“No,” he said, injecting his response with amusing petulance. “I kept waiting for you to, but noOo. All you wanted to do was sleep.”
Again she laughed. “I’m serious.”
“You didn’t do anything,” he divulged softly, his voice gaining a somber edge. “You just slept. So deeply I worried that…”
She wouldn’t wake up?
Affection filled her as she patted the hand still cradled against her chest. “I’m okay. I don’t even have a headache.”
A sigh ruffled her hair. “Thank goodness your head is so hard.”
Dianne Duvall is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Immortal Guardians paranormal romance series, the Aldebarian Alliance sci‐fi romance series, and The Gifted Ones medieval and time‐travel romance series. The Lasaran, the first book in the Aldebarian Alliance Series, was a #1 Audible Mover & Shaker. The Segonian, the second book in the AldebarianAlliance Series, was a Barnes&Noble Top Indie Favorite. Audible chose Awaken the Darkness as one of the Top 5 Best Paranormal Romance Audiobooks of 2018. Reviewers have called Dianne’s books “fast-paced and humorous” (Publishers Weekly), “utterly addictive” (RT Book Reviews), “extraordinary” (Long and Short Reviews), and “wonderfully imaginative” (The Romance Reviews). Dianne’s books have twice been nominated for RT Reviewers’ Choice Awards. And her audiobooks have been awarded the AudioFile Earphones Award for Excellence.
Dianne’s books have all appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, and/or Kobo Bestseller lists. The first book in Dianne’s The Gifted Ones series, A Sorceress of His Own, is a prequel of sorts to Darkness Dawns. A USA Today bestseller, A Sorceress of His Own is a medieval romance with paranormal elements that was awarded the AudioFileEarphones Award for Excellence and was an Audie Finalist. The second book in the series, Rendezvous WithYesterday, is a time travel romance that won the GraveTells Readers’ Choice Award for Best Historical Romance.
In addition to writing romance, Dianne has completed a one-act play (comedy) and teamed up with an award-winning screenwriter to write a spec script for a new situation comedy. Several of her poems have also been published in anthologies.
When she isn’t writing, Dianne is very active in the independent film industry and has even appeared on-screen, crawling out of a moonlit grave and wielding a machete like some of the psychotic vampires she creates in her books.
For the latest news on upcoming releases, contests, and more, please visit DianneDuvall.com or sign up for her Newsletter. You can also find Dianne online . . .
To celebrate the release of Rogue Darkness, Dianne Duvall will be giving away a Swag Pack to (2) two separate readers (US only please) AND a $25 Amazon Gift Card to (2) two separate readers! To enter, fill out the Rafflecopter form found in this post.
Follow along with the Blog Tour at DianneDuvall.com for more chances to win daily. Good luck!
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