Imagine falling in love with a man, then finding out he was a killer…
TRU BLUE is a sexy, dark stand-alone novel written in the same loving, raw, and emotional voice romance readers have come to love, and the deeply emotional literary prose women’s fiction readers have come to expect, from New York Times & USA Today bestselling, award-winning author Melissa Foster.
He wore the skin of a killer, and bore the heart of a lover…
There’s nothing Truman Gritt won’t do to protect his family–Including spending years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. When he’s finally released, the life he knew is turned upside down by his mother’s overdose, and Truman steps in to raise the children she’s left behind. Truman’s hard, he’s secretive, and he’s trying to save a brother who’s even more broken than he is. He’s never needed help in his life, and when beautiful Gemma Wright tries to step in, he’s less than accepting. But Gemma has a way of slithering into people’s lives and eventually she pierces through his ironclad heart. When Truman’s dark past collides with his future, his loyalties will be tested, and he’ll be faced with his toughest decision yet.
***
“Several emotional topics — such as drug addiction, abandonment, infertility and unexpectedly becoming a parent — are easily woven together without making the story feel crowded or overdone. Foster writes exceptional characters that keep readers thinking long after the book is finished… The dynamic members of the Whiskey family are the foundation that holds the group together and they are exactly the reason we’re taught not to judge. Let’s hope we hear more from all of them!” RT Book Reviews
“Sexy and Heartbreaking….I simply adored this beautifully written romance.” Tasty Book PR
“Ms. Foster, went for the gut with Truman and Gemma. Tru Blue is more than a romance, it is a story of love, a story of hope and a story of courage. 10 + stars.” Night Owl Reviews
“With her wonderful characters and resonating emotions, Melissa Foster is a must-read author!” New York Times Bestseller Julie Kenner
“Melissa Foster is synonymous with sexy, swoony, heartfelt romance!” New York Times Bestseller Lauren Blakely
“You can always rely on Melissa Foster to deliver a story that’s fresh, emotional and entertaining. Make sure you have all night, because once you start you won’t want to stop reading. Every book’s a winner!” NYT Bestselling Author Brenda Novak
Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance and new adult romance, contemporary women’s fiction, suspense, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café and Fostering Success. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa has been published in Calgary’s Child Magazine, the Huffington Post, and Women Business Owners magazine.
Melissa hosts an Aspiring Authors contest for children and has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Melissa lives in Maryland with her family.
Visit Melissa on social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups, and welcomes an invitation to your event.
Title: Tru Blue Series: A dark, sexy standalone romance… Author: Melissa Foster
Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: November 9, 2016
Imagine falling in love with a man, then finding out he was a killer…
TRU BLUE is a sexy, dark stand-alone novel written in the same loving, raw, and emotional voice romance readers have come to love, and the deeply emotional literary prose women’s fiction readers have come to expect, from New York Times & USA Today bestselling, award-winning author Melissa Foster.
He wore the skin of a killer, and bore the heart of a lover…
There’s nothing Truman Gritt won’t do to protect his family–Including spending years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. When he’s finally released, the life he knew is turned upside down by his mother’s overdose, and Truman steps in to raise the children she’s left behind. Truman’s hard, he’s secretive, and he’s trying to save a brother who’s even more broken than he is. He’s never needed help in his life, and when beautiful Gemma Wright tries to step in, he’s less than accepting. But Gemma has a way of slithering into people’s lives and eventually she pierces through his ironclad heart. When Truman’s dark past collides with his future, his loyalties will be tested, and he’ll be faced with his toughest decision yet.
“Several emotional topics — such as drug addiction, abandonment, infertility and unexpectedly becoming a parent — are easily woven together without making the story feel crowded or overdone. Foster writes exceptional characters that keep readers thinking long after the book is finished… The dynamic members of the Whiskey family are the foundation that holds the group together and they are exactly the reason we’re taught not to judge. Let’s hope we hear more from all of them!” ~RT Book Reviews
“Sexy and Heartbreaking….I simply adored this beautifully written romance.” ~Tasty Book PR
“Ms. Foster, went for the gut with Truman and Gemma. Tru Blue is more than a romance, it is a story of love, a story of hope and a story of courage. 10 + stars.” ~Night Owl Reviews
“With her wonderful characters and resonating emotions, Melissa Foster is a must-read author!” ~New York Times Bestseller Julie Kenner
“Melissa Foster is synonymous with sexy, swoony, heartfelt romance!” ~New York Times Bestseller Lauren Blakely
“You can always rely on Melissa Foster to deliver a story that’s fresh, emotional and entertaining. Make sure you have all night, because once you start you won’t want to stop reading. Every book’s a winner!” ~NYT Bestselling Author Brenda Novak
Emotions he didn’t want to deal with burned in his gut, causing his chest to constrict. He turned to go inside, hoping to outrun thoughts of his own f**ked-up family, whom he’d tried—and failed—to save. His cell phone rang with his brother’s ringtone, “A Beautiful Lie” by 30 Seconds to Mars.
“F**k,” he muttered, debating letting the call go to voicemail, but six months of silence from his brother was a long time. Rain pelleted his back as he pressed his palm to the door to steady himself. The ringing stopped, and he blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d trapped inside. The phone rang again, and he froze.
He’d just freed himself from the dredges of hell that he’d been thrown into in an effort to save his brother. He didn’t need to get wrapped up in whatever mess the drug-addicted fool had gotten himself into. The call went to voicemail, and Truman eyed the metal box containing his painting supplies. Breathing like he’d been in a fight, he wished he could paint the frustration out of his head. When the phone rang for the third time in as many minutes, the third time since he was released from prison six months ago, he reluctantly answered.
“Quincy.” He hated the way his brother’s name came out sounding like the enemy. Quincy had been just a kid when Truman went to prison. Heavy breathing filled the airwaves. The hairs on Truman’s forearms and neck stood on end. He knew fear when he heard it. He could practically taste it as he ground his teeth together.
“I need you,” his brother’s tortured voice implored.
Need me? Truman had hunted down his brother after he was released from prison, and when he’d finally found him, Quincy was so high on crack he was nearly incoherent—but it didn’t take much for f**k off to come through loud and clear. What Quincy needed was rehab, but Truman knew from his tone that wasn’t the point of the call.
Before he could respond, his brother croaked out, “It’s Mom. She’s really bad.”
Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance, new adult romance (M/F, M/M, F/F), romantic suspense, thrillers, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa’s emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family oriented. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success.Melissa has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Her interests include her family, reading, writing, painting, friends, helping others see the positive side of life, and visiting Cape Cod.Melissa is available to chat with book clubs and welcomes comments and emails from her readers. Visit Melissa on Facebook or her personal website.
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Holidays conjure up many thoughts- long, chilly nights, snuggled up by the fire, bare feet tucked under the one you love. Some are hallmarks of summer when skin is warmed by more than the sun. There is the after Thanksgiving dinner nightcap, as the smooth, sultry burn of whiskey warms your chest, rendering your limbs heavy or include lazy kisses and wandering hands beneath your best dress on a romantic Valentine’s Day date.
But sometimes, Grandma gets boozed up and passes out at the table, your brother gets caught rubbing one out under the fireworks, your kids catch mommy kissing Santa (and not on the lips), your special new toy winds up in the wrong gift bag, a goat steals and wears your sexy new thong and watching the ball drop takes on a whole new meaning.
In other words, the holidays can be magical, but sometimes, they’re also just f*cking awkward.
Starring:
Taryn Plendl, A. D. Justice, Ahren Sanders, Amanda Maxlyn – Author, Brooke Page, Carey Heywood Author, Christine Manzari, Christine Zolendz, Dina Littner Author, Eliana S. Peters, Author Gina Sheldon, Author HJ Bellus, Kennedy Ryan Author, Laura Ward Author, Leigh Carman, Lex Martin – Author, Lindsey Iler: Author, Liv Morris, Author, L L Collins, Author M. Mabie, Author Magan Vernon, Author Meghan Quinn, Author Mel Ballew, Stacy Kestwick, Trudy Stiles
A Special Foreword written by USA Today Bestselling Author, Tara Sivec’s dog, Fat Ralph!
The star player with a troubled past… Cash Greenwood escaped a difficult past by becoming a star baseball player. Now, one of the major league’s rare double threats, all his effort is thrown into the sport. He’s never had any interest in women, until he meets the one woman who wants nothing to do with him. The daughter of baseball royalty… Delilah Gray’s life revolves around numbers, research, and data. She has no time for anything messy like emotions or relationships. Especially not when they come in the sexy guise of a baseball player. She’s seen first-hand the devastation caused by dating a man obsessed with the sport, and that’s one risk she’s not willing to take. She is one curveball he never saw coming… But this is one pitch Cash is determined to hit out of the park. Sexual tensions run high and feelings start to develop, but will Delilah ever see that they could have a solid future together? Determined to make her his, she may just prove to be the hardest game of Cash’s life. WARNING: The Long Ball features an obsessed jock with six-pack abs in tight pants determined to get his girl. If syrupy sweet romance and fiery passions appeal to you, then hold onto your panties because this one may just hit them out of the park.
“Stop being a whiny bitch, Greenwood! Bottoms up!”
My best friend and resident troublemaker of the team smacked me on the back. His boisterous laugh and booming voice took up all the space around him. I loved many things about the man, but the thing I loved the most was that in his presence, I became invisible. Since the age of 16 I’ve been recognizable. Once you were a star athlete with a future and the hope of winning a championship, you became a commodity, something shiny. And being simultaneously a slugger and a pitcher was a combination so rare that those with it, like myself, were priceless.
It hadn’t taken me long to learn that being invisible keeps you safe.
“We have to meet that analytics chick in an hour. I don’t want to reek of alcohol. Coach will kick our asses.” I didn’t like to drink. Most days I can’t even stomach the smell of it, but for the sake of keeping up appearances I usually nursed a glass in my hand and always offered to be the designated driver so no one suspected anything. Rod was really good about covering for me when needed, chugging back the drinks people often bought for me, acting like the cocky best friend he was.
“It’s still technically the off-season. Another one won’t hurt.”
“Another always hurts, particularly in the form of a hangover the next morning,” I replied.
“You sound like a dodgy old fuck. Where’s the guy who used to party with me all night long? I want him back.”
I chuckled, thinking about all the times we’d been in trouble. I prided myself on how well I blended into the crowd and let him take the attention. Rodriguez and I had been buddies since our rookie year. We’d grown up together on this team, cut our teeth on the ins and outs of playing professional ball, but as time passed I found that faking it seemed to exhaust me more and more each day. I was tired of it all, and the only thing that still made me feel something was the game. Everything else was endless noise that passed by with no true meaning or intention. I felt like I was walking in a blur, just waiting for time to pass.
“I’m not twenty-one anymore. Coach said any more stunts like that one you pulled at warm-ups and we’re both benched. And you, motherfucker, are not getting me benched.” The idea of sitting out a game was unbearable. Rod and I were thick as thieves, and Coach knew that if anyone could reel him in, it would be me. But what the coach didn’t know was that the idea of losing baseball in any way was like a noose around my neck, tightening until all the oxygen was ripped from me.
“You’re my wingman, buddy, and ya gotta admit, spiking the water cooler was pretty genius.”
“And landed us in a shit load of trouble. Frankly, I’m just too old for this shit anymore. Let the rookies have at it. We had our fun.”
“You make thirty sound like a death sentence. Not for me. When I turn the big 3-0 next year I’m going big. I want my feet in the sand with a drink in my hand and a pussy on each arm. Fuck it, a limo full of pussy. I am gonna get more ass that night than a toilet seat.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.” I’d never liked how Rodriguez embraced the cliché ball player persona. He played ball hard—out on the field he was a beast. But he partied even harder, a revolving door of girls after every game. I was always up for a few drinks, but the groupies that surrounded Rodriguez always made my stomach turn. It was so obvious they wanted him for his status and money—his staggering salary was very appealing to bunt bunnies. I had absolutely zero interest in them.
All the women around ball players didn’t have much to offer, and my life was so messed up that I doubt any woman wanted anything to do with it when she found out. The only kind that would stay would be one that would hope for a staggering payday at the end. I had enough people standing by with their hand out, so I wasn’t interested in a woman who wanted that, too. Besides, I only had a few more years to play this game, and I wasn’t going to squander them for some chick. These women didn’t care about the men. They cared about the limos, the big ticket items the ball players paid for, and the thousand-dollar dinners. Rodriguez made hundreds of millions, just like so many of my buddies, and just like the other ball players, he had no issue living like a king. But that lifestyle didn’t interest me in the least.
This life wasn’t for everyone, I wasn’t even sure it was for me sometimes. I rarely liked to go out, and the women did nothing for me. I lived and breathed the game, so much so that I couldn’t imagine what else I would be doing if it wasn’t this. I had one single focus and that was to win the World Series. I had been playing ball for eleven years with the MLB, and that was the only thing that eluded me. I was known as the best player in the entire league and yet I didn’t have that World Series title under my belt. My years left playing ball were dwindling—a ball player was gettin’ some age by thirty—but it was the one dream I hadn’t yet attained.
“Let’s head over, man. Don’t want to piss off Coach.”
Rod slammed his shot glass down on the counter, his eyes shining with excitement. “Wanna place bets on how fast I can get up the analytic girl’s skirt?”
“You haven’t even seen her yet.” We walked out the doors of the corner bar, afternoon light heating my skin as we walked the short block to the stadium. Today we had a meeting with what would be the new official star analytics firm for the club, before opening day tomorrow. I’d been waiting months for this day, the time between playoffs and opening season always left a pit of dread in my stomach. If I could play twelve months of the year I would.
We pushed through the stadium doors and made our way down the dim hallway, headed for the conference room next to the locker room. I nodded at Coach when we walked in and greeted a few of the other guys as the entire team settled on benches around the center of the room.
“I don’t want to take up much of your time, so I’ll cut right to the chase.” Coach looked around the room. “A few of you have been fucking off, so we need focus if we’re going to have a good season. I don’t expect miracles, but I do expect you to listen. No more antics. Stay focused. I expect each of you to improve your averages by the end of the season. “
“Like it or not, stats are down, guys. We need all heads in the game if we’re gonna improve and have a shot at going all the way this year. Delilah Grey from Lionsgate Analytics is here to help us do that.. She’ll be with us—every game, every day—all season. She’ll be sending me the stats throughout the game, and I want you guys tuned in to your averages. Push yourselves every night.”
He glanced around the room, pausing for a moment on Rod. “And please treat Delilah with respect. She knows we need some help, but she doesn’t need to know you’re all a bunch of animals.” God, I loved Coach. So steady and calm. He was the reason this team was great. Without him we’d all be a bunch of animals on the field.
Coach swung open the locker room door and in walked a fucking vision. I noticed the heels first. Sexy stilettos with leather cutouts that made me want to get down on my knees and slip them off her feet one at a time. My eyes devoured her creamy, toned calves, and not even the conservative pencil skirt could hide the full curves of her hips.
“Jesus,”
Rod said under his breath.
I nudged him, for the first time in my life irritated by his overt appreciation of a woman. Looking at Delilah, the hairs on my arms stood to attention. As did something else. Damn, she was stunning, I’d never seen a woman so radiant in my entire life. She had dark silky hair cascading down her back in loose curls, so damn soft-looking that my hand itched to brush up against them. I, Cash Greenwood, for the first time in my life had a desire to brush up against a woman’s hair.
“Hey guys, I’m Delilah Grey.” She nodded, her spine rigid as she leafed through a handful of papers in her arms. “If you could pass these around, I’ll tell you a little about me, then we can chat individually.”
“Individually?” Rod chimed, his horny grin sending anger racing through my stomach.
“Yes, that’s how I prefer to work. Deal with each player’s specific issues before we bring the whole team together.”
“I’ve only got one issue.” Rod shifted in his seat, his hand brushing over his crotch. My nostrils flared. Why was he such a dick?. At that moment I hated my best friend so much I wanted to pound his face into the ground. The thought made me feel ashamed and idiotic. I knew Rod, he was a joker, more talk than action on most days, but the fact that he was being crass to this woman upset me beyond all reason. I didn’t have an explanation, but I did not enjoy the idea of Rod looking at her like she was a piece of meat. Not one bit.
Delilah’s deep chocolate eyes narrowed in a flare of anger for a moment before she turned back to her paperwork. If one paid close attention to her, as I was doing, one could see the patch of red forming on the back of her neck. “I started Lionsgate Analytics nearly three years ago. I want you to be the best players, on and off the field, and excelling in this world isn’t just about home runs and fly balls. It’s also about measuring speed, distance, velocity.” Her eyes flicked over the team again. “I’ll be hanging out at all the games, laptop open and watching just how consistent everyone is, and hopefully it won’t take us long to get an average. Anyone have questions for me?”
“Yeah, got plans tonight, sweetheart?” That was Rod, and I nearly shoved my fist in his gut for that one. I watched as Delilah’s jaw ticked. She was tough, I could tell. I liked that. I liked that she wouldn’t take anything sitting down. I had had enough of women taking things sitting down, so the fighter in me was drawn to the fire in her.
“Let me make one other thing clear: if anyone calls me sweetheart, toots, doll, baby, or any other demeaning term of endearment again, I can’t promise you won’t feel my high heel in your balls. I don’t play well with men who act like animals. We’re here for one thing and one thing only—to get this team in shape to win this year. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make an ass out of yourself in the process. Have I made myself clear?”
Fire blazed through my veins when she spun and exited the very door she’d come from. Well damn, after thirty years I finally found a woman who could make me take notice, make me want to chase. And not only chase, but tie her up and hold her against me, bind her to me in every way possible.
Aria Coleis a thirty-something housewife who once felt bad for reading dirty books late at night, until she decided to write her own. Possessive alpha men and the sassy heroines who love them are common, along with a healthy dose of irresistible insta-love and happily ever afters so sweet your teeth may ache. For a safe, off-the-charts HOT, and always HEA story that doesn’t take a lifetime to read, get lost in an Aria Cole book! Follow Aria on Amazon for new release updates, or stalk her on Facebook and Twitter to see which daring book boyfriend she’s writing next! Sign up to get a NEW RELEASE ALERT from me!
Ophelia Lang needs money, and she needs it bad. Her parent’s restaurant is going under, and ever since she lost her job teaching third grade elementary, scraping enough cash together to pay the bills has proven almost impossible. Her parents are on the brink of losing their home. The vultures are circling overhead. So when Ophelia is offered an interview for a well-paid private tutoring gig in New York, how can she possibly say no?
Ronan Fletcher is far from the overweight, balding businessman Ophelia expected him to be. He’s young, handsome, and wealthy beyond all reason. He’s also perhaps the coldest, rudest person she’s ever met, and has a mean streak in him a mile and a half wide. A hundred grand is a lot of money, however, and if tolerating his frosty temperament, his erratic mood swings and whatever else he throws at her means she’ll get paid, then that is what Ophelia will do.
Her new boss is keeping secrets, though. Awful, terrible secrets.
The ghosts of Ronan Fletcher’s past are about to turn Ophelia’s future upside down, and she can’t even see it coming.
Note: Between Here and The Horizon is a brand new standalone contemporary romance novel from USA Today bestselling author, Callie Hart. Between Here and the Horizon does contain some scenes of violence and sexual content, and so is directed at audience 18+.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
AFGHANISTAN
2009
“Get back, Fletcher! Get back! The tank’s gonna blow!”
I was running. Behind me, seven miles of desert stretched out toward Kabul city, glowing in places where burned out military trucks were being devoured by fire. Twisted metal rained down from the sky, on fire and sharper than a razor’s edge, impacting in the dirt. Thud. Thud, thud.Thud. Shrapnel whistled through the air, striking the ground a few feet away from me as I weaved my way through the wreckage. Smoke was biting at my lungs, acrid and burning, making it hard to breath.
“Fletcher! What the fuck, man!”
Behind me, Specialist Crowe was losing his mind. Alternating between shouting into his radio and shouting at me, he couldn’t seem to decide which course of action to take. I’d ordered him to follow, but I could understand why he hadn’t. The situation was more than unsafe; charging headlong into the fire and destruction was a suicide mission, and I knew it. I also knew that my men were trapped inside the upturned vehicle still a hundred feet ahead of me, however, and I knew the truck was going to blow any second. They were going to burn to death if I didn’t help them. I wasn’t going to abandon them to that fate.
“Captain! God, man, stop!”
My heart was surging, my veins overflowing with adrenalin. My boots hit the dirt, left, right, left, right, left, right, my fists pumping back and forth as I sprinted toward the truck that was laying on its roof up ahead. Through the fractured windshield, I could see Hellaman and Wicks still strapped into the front seats of the vehicle, upside down and unmoving. They were either unconscious or dead. Hopefully they were just out for the count, but there was a lot of blood splattered on the inside of the glass. A lot of blood.
Black smoke curled upward from the underside of the truck, and I could already hear the hissing sound of fuel burning and sizzling somewhere. Groaning. I could hear groaning, too.
I reached the truck just as something inside the engine caught fire, and Hellaman came to. His eyes were wide with pain and fear as I dropped down onto my belly next to the driver’s side window, which was smashed out, small cubes of safety glass scattered into the dirt.
“Captain? Captain Fletcher. Shit, I can’t breathe. I can’t…breathe.” His face was deathly pale, and his hands shook violently as he tried to claw at the seatbelt that was digging into his chest.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Private. We’re gonna get you out of there, okay? Just hold on a moment.” My bowie knife was in my hand. I took it and made quick work of slashing through the webbing holding Hellaman in place. There was nothing I could do to cushion his fall. Slamming into the roof of the truck, Hellaman groaned weakly, and then passed out again, either from pain or from the shock, I didn’t know. I stowed my blade and grabbed him by the shoulders, then wrestled him free through the window. His face was cut; his arms were striped with blood and running rivers of crimson out onto the ground. No time to be gentle, though. No time to be safe. I hooked my hands under his arms and I quickly jogged backwards, dragging him away from the wreckage. Twenty feet was enough.
I ran back to the truck. Flames were visibly licking at the underside of the vehicle now, snaking upward toward the night sky. Wick was still out cold. I ran around to the back of the truck and tried to force the loading doors open, but they were jammed closed, bent and warped, refusing to budge.
“Shit.”
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
There was someone alive inside. Running out of time. Almost no time left. I positioned myself by the truck’s rear right window, thanking god the thing was already splintered. The bulletproof windows on military trucks were no joke. You could take a semi automatic to them and it would take longer than I had to smash them. The impact of rolling three times had obviously been enough to compromise the glass, though.
“Shield your faces,” I hollered. “Glass, glass, glass!” Bracing, I spun around and smashed the sole of my boot against the window as hard as I possibly could. The glass groaned, fracturing some more, but it didn’t shatter. I kicked again, and again, and again. Finally, the window exploded in a shower of bright shards, giving in under the force of my boot.
“Captain, there’s fuel in here,” someone inside yelled. “Get back!”
I ducked down and lay flat on my stomach again, crawling in through the now empty window frame. Inside the truck, gasoline hung heavy in the air, burning my nostrils and my eyes. Next to me, Roberts was dead, his head twisted at an odd angle, eyes staring, unseeing into the abyss.
On the other side of the truck Private Coleridge, Sam, a nineteen-year-old kid from Houston, was lying on his back on the roof, holding his rifle in both hands, his body convulsing wildly. His eyes swivelled to look at me, but his head remained locked in position, his teeth grinding together.
“What…what happened, Capt’n?” he asked. “We were drivin’ along, and then…everything was…spinning.”
“IED,” I told him. “Desert’s full of them. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
“I can’t…move. I can’t feel…anything.”
He wasn’t paralyzed. If he were, he wouldn’t be shaking the way he was right now. He was just in shock. A sharp slap to the face would probably go a long way to getting him moving, but there simply wasn’t time for that kind of motivation. Grabbing him by the webbing stitched onto the strap of his pack, which was still on his back, I hauled him to me and then backed out through the window as quickly as I could. The fire was raging now. I dragged Sam back to where I’d left Hellaman and was about to run back to the truck when a loud metallic crack split the air apart, and then a ball of fire rocked the truck, a wall of heat and pressure slamming into my body, sending me reeling back into the dirt.
“Oscar!” Sam yelled. “Oscar’s still alive in there!”
“Fuck.” I was up on my feet and running. The heat was intense—so intense that I had to shield my face as I grew closer to the wreck. The fire had consumed the underside of the truck, the tires blazing, the gas roaring as the fuel line was engulfed. And I could hear screaming. The kind of blood curdling, awful screaming of a man being burned alive.
My radio headset crackled with static, and then Colonel Whitlock’s voice barked out through the speaker. “Fletcher, do not go back inside that vehicle. Do you hear me? Do not go back inside that vehicle.”
Disobeying a direct order from a colonel was an offence worthy of court marshal. I ripped my headset from my ears and threw it to the ground, ignoring it. Ignoring the consequences. Another blood curdling scream reached me, and that was it. I was on my stomach, crawling into the mouth of hell.
My side pressed up against the frame of the window, and pain tore at me, sinking its teeth into my skin. Heat. The heat was overwhelming, so fierce and violent that there was no oxygen inside the truck. Only smoke and confusion. Only death.
“Oscar!” I called out, reaching with both hands, trying to find him. “Where are you, man?” The truck was only a six-guy transport, but the billowing, rolling clouds of black smoke hid everything. I went by touch until I heard him cry out again, weaker this time, voice riddled with agony. He was at the very rear of the truck. A few seconds was all I had. Any longer and I would either suffocate or burn up myself. My head was pounding, my lungs begging for clean air, and I could feel myself start to drift.
The journey to the back of the truck took an eternity. One hand over the other, I pulled myself around an upturned transport box, and jammed my body in between the narrow gap at the right hand side of the vehicle, reaching out, groping, searching, until I found what I was looking for. A leg. A foot, to be precise. I grabbed hold of it and pulled. An agonised yell filled the truck.
“Ahh, my leg. My leg. It’s fucked!”
“I know. I’m sorry, man. I can’t get you any other way.” I gritted my teeth, and I pulled. In any other situation it would have been a crime that I was handling an injured man this way. The clock was running down, though, and if causing more pain, causing even more damage meant the difference between one of my guys being injured or being dead, then I was going to do what I had to do.
I somehow managed to maneuverer myself so that I was over Oscar—I couldn’t even see his face, the smoke was so thick—and then I started shoving. Six hard pushes and I managed to drive him through the gap in the window frame, out onto the desert floor. His body was ripped away, pulled free by someone else, and then he was gone. I was almost too tired to heave myself free, but I scrounged up my last scrap of energy and I crawled forward, determined to make it out before the entire vehicle was enveloped. Halfway out, my fingers clawing in the dirt, my body lit up with pain. Indescribable. Unbearable. A pain so sharp and breathtaking that I couldn’t even cry out. It felt like something was ripping my body in two. I spun around and looked up to see a burning line of fuel pouring down on me, hitting my side, burning into me. I was on fire.
I kicked and jerked myself out of the truck, ripping at my jacket. Tearing at the material, trying to get it off. The fabric seemed to come away in my hands, and then I was shirtless in the cold, cold desert, rolling on the ground, trying to put the flames out.
The world went black. Someone threw something over me, and then hands were beating at my body, slapping and trying to roll me. A strangled gasp worked its way out of my mouth, but that’s all I could manage. The flames were out. The thick, heavy material that had been thrown over me was pulled back, and Crowe stood over me, face covered in soot and grease, eyes the size of dollar coins. I could barely see him properly. Barely hear the words coming out of his mouth.
Colonel Whitlock appeared next to him, and then the sky was filled with the beating thump of helicopter blades. They spoke for a second, and the thundering drum of the helo overhead dipped long enough for me to make out what Crowe said to Whitlock.
“He didn’t stop, sir. He didn’t stop until they were all out.”
Whitlock scowled. “I can see that, Specialist. He disobeyed a direct order in doing so, too.”
“He’ll be reprimanded?” Crowe asked. He was speaking as if I was no longer present; both of them were.
“No,” Whitlock said sternly. “Ironically, I think Captain Fletcher’s more likely to be honored than punished in this particular instance. Now get him on the chopper before I change my mind. The crazy bastard’s bleeding everywhere.”
Calliehas experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and moulding her into the person she is today: fun loving, active, social, and hard working. The only thing that has remained a constant throughout her life is writing. Creating characters who will tear your conscience in two is a favorite pastime of Callie’s. There are few real saints and sinners in her books; more often, the denizens of her stories are all very human. Broken, flawed, and always with the potential for redemption.
Despite the subject matter being markedly hot and heavy in comparison to the stories she wrote in elementary school, there will always be an element of fairytale to her work.
Callie Hart is the author of the Blood & Roses Series. Zeth & Sloane’s story is now complete, but there are a number of stories still to be released under the Blood & Roses banner. 2015 will see Cade, Michael and Rebel’s stories being released, as well as a number of brand new stories, all of which will be Dark Romance novels.
If you would like to contact Callie, you can do so here.
If you would like to sign up to Callie’s newsletter for info on upcoming releases, exclusive teasers, excerpts and competitions, you can do so here.
Become Enchanted, Haunted, and Hunted this Halloween.
12 NYT, USA Today, and International Best Selling Authors, bring you brand-new, paranormal shifter romances that are sure to make this a Shifters Hallows Eve you’ll never forget!
Being a lover of PNR, Shifters Hallows Evewas a definite ‘gotta read’ for me.
I’ve read books by a couple of the authors but for the most part, the stories were by ‘new to me writers’ and I have to say that following this introduction to their work I’ll without doubt be checking out more of their books.
The list of stories included in the anthology: The Tiger’s Bride by R.E. Butler Mate Hunt by Sydney Lea Haunted by Love by Lori King Joker’s Trick or Treat by Audra Hart The Haunted Mate by Bryce Evans Hunter’s Mark by Melissa Snark Tears for Her Dragon by Julia Mills Dark Lovers by Elle Boon Once Upon a Hallow’s Eve by KD Jones The Wolf’s Ghost by Bethany Shaw The Valley of the Shadows Hallowed Destiny by Candace Blevins
This was a great mix of tales featuring shifters, vampires, witches, ghosts and zombies (yep, you heard that correctly….. zombies!!). If you are a paranormal fan, this set of stories will most certainly hit the mark and makes for a fun, hot, entertaining read.
In the light of darkness is an undeniable need to run, disappear, slither away only barely scraping by with hope that maybe just maybe, there’s a way of escape.
My name is Oliva Basari. I escaped one hell only to be trapped inside another, darkness and fear seething through my veins and invading my every thought.
A new city, a new job, a new persona and then…. I fell in lust, I fell in love…hell, I just fell.
From the darkness my alter ego became real, I was Tess, the stirring of someone or something else burning in my gut until she was all there was.
I didn’t fear what would happen if remorse knocked on my door nor did I fear the lustful way I stalked them, preyed upon them—the ones that couldn’t have me, the ones who wished they could taste me—I was their darkness until I met one very tall, dark, and forbiddingly handsome Mr. Black. He hated me watching with darkness in his tormented eyes. He scared me, intimidated me, and left me questioning my own sanity.
Until he didn’t.
He was the one thing I let myself submit too, his touch, the way he slid his knuckles across my flesh, igniting a dangerous spark inside of me.
In the end, we’re all captured souls waiting for release or the escape from our own maniacal thoughts.
Kimberlyis an International bestselling author of the Angel Trilogy. She has been writing since she was a young girl growing up in Kansas City, Mo. Reading and writing has always been a big part of her life. She enjoys a world she can get lost in while reading a good book. A wife and mother to four beautiful children she decided she wasn’t busy enough. She spent some time chasing down fugitives as a bounty hunter then laid down her hand cuffs and finished her college degree in nursing.
Kimberly loves discovering new music to jam out to and loves anything that’s different. When Kimberly isn’t writing she is playing superhero for her children.
Nixon Andrews is an alpha male with a dirty mouth.After getting kicked out of the Navy, he lives giving zero f*cks.
That is, until his ex he left behind, comes back into his life in the most unlikely way.
I fell in love with Cameron Hollis the moment I laid eyes on her. She was everything to me. We had nothing but a clean slate ahead of us, until the day I made the biggest mistake of my life. I let her go. It was for her own good…at least that’s what I told myself. That was five years ago, now my tour is over, and I’m home. Nothing matters without her. But I won’t go after her, the guilt I have is too much to face. I lied…about so many things, she’ll never look at me the same way. Zero f*cks, that’s how I live now.Part of me died the day Nixon Andrews broke my f*cking heart. He became a Navy Seal and then decided the course of my future, like he had the f*ckin’ power. Why? Because he didn’t want to see me end up hurt. He was protecting me…from him. But I didn’t need protecting, I just needed Nixon. Even if he was halfway across the world, I needed to know that no matter what, we were going to be okay. That was five years ago and still not a single word from him…
From International Bestselling Author, LK Collins, comes a sexy new second chance standalone novel showing that true love never dies, and how a broken heart can cause you to give zero f*cks. LK writes an array of emotionally and sexy gripping Erotic Romance novels. Her stories are compelling and will draw you in from page one, and with twists and turns along the way, she always keeps her readers enthralled ’til the end. When LK’s not lost in the minds of her characters, you can find her on the beach with her family, where her husband and writing partner, “The Prezident,” are sure to be plotting out her next tale.
Click on the photo to enter for a chance to win a $20 Amazon gift card.
Giveaway is pinned to the top of my author page!
Our Empire is crumbling right before my eyes. No one can be trusted for reasons that are consuming me, controlling me and ripping me away from my family.
This new family who has taken over the streets of New York has taken someone away from us. We will not let them take anymore. The only way to stop them is to sacrifice one of us.
But who? They want to end me and my cousin, Calla.
I will never allow that to happen.
This is our EMPIRE. Our LIFE.
What it boils down to is… her life or mine.
The answer is MINE!
I’m perceived as weak, all because I’m a woman.
A woman on a mission now that they’ve stolen someone I love.
They have threatened my family, my child, my love.
I may be a woman but, I’m the daughter of a notorious killer.
They want to end me and my cousin, Roan.
I will never allow that to happen.
This is our EMPIRE. Our LIFE.
What it boils down to is… his life or mine.
The answer is MINE!
I’m loved.
I’m lost.
I hate.
Excerpt
“These people are ruthless, Calla. Are you sure you can handle it?” I told her as well as Alina and Anna the same thing I’m telling Roan. I’m extremely aware of how dangerous this situation is. I may not have had the displeasure of personally dealing with these wretched leaders who don’t play fair in our world; on the contrary, I will not tolerate any of them treating me any different because I have tits and a vagina. If it weren’t for women, they would be fucking each other over more than they do now. Welcome to the first episode of badassery and women power, you self-righteous dicks.
I’m a firm believer in women’s rights. I don’t care what men’s opinions are of us or what a woman is trying to accomplish. We are all equal. The only difference we have is, women use their brain the way we should, while most men use what hangs between their legs to do their bidding for them. And I can guarantee, these overbearing suckers have dicks that should be playing a role in Ripley’s Believe it or Not. Small dicks, small brains, and all that jazz.
I’ve been fighting round after round with Cain for weeks over this. The need to protect me I get. We have a daughter, is his argument. “Why do you feel the need to take on this role? You don’t have to, you know? One of us can.” It’s not that Cain wants this position. No. That’s not it at all. The man is scared of losing his wife. Of the things I will see, the things I may have to do. How I’ll react to being threatened. Will the same thing or worse happen to me like it did before? It’s not one bit funny, but the only way to shut that man up is to flash my tits and vagina in his face. Then fuck him until his cock—which isn’t small by any means—takes over his worried brain. Like I said, men. I love my man, though. These pissy, arrogant cock-suckers who will be calling a meeting at any time are the worthless pieces of shit. Except the Solokovs, who think in this century and treat everyone equally like we do, not like these fools who I’ve studied until my eyes were bleeding and could no longer make out their faces through my blurred vision. Most of them I haven’t met yet, and they already make me sick and make me want to hurl all over their expensive Armani suits. They could all learn a thing or two from a woman.
“Get to the point, Calla. You said we don’t have time to fuck around. Let me hear your theory.”
“You need to loosen up, Roan. You sound like Hitler, for god’s sake.” I salute him.
The tiny crack of a smile he had moments ago falls; in its place is the face of a man who’s suffered loss and hardship. This look on him is what I hate. I’ve been busting my ass to help him out here. Searching through tiny holes for any goddamn thing I could find.
What Cain and Roan don’t understand is the craving I have to protect them too. It’s my right. I may not have lived my entire life growing up in this environment of murder, drugs, stealing, and the latest, underground illegal fighting, but I’m no fool. I can play with fire, but I’m not allowing myself to get burned.
“I’m not afraid of those men, you know. I’m not afraid of you either. In fact, I just may be your biggest weapon. Remember that, Roan,” I seethe. Between him and Cain trying to scare the crap out of me, I’m ready to prove myself to them more than anyone else.
The sharp tongue, piss, and vinegar are all in my blood. Just like Roan, I will kill for my blood. I also know Roan. That man protects with his life, as do the rest of these men. He’s going to have someone on me at all times. Maybe even several men. What he fails to realize is, my dad will never allow anything to happen to me. He’s already volunteered to go where I go. People are scared to death of the unstoppable John Greer, and they should be. He’s killed and made more people disappear than I want to know about, but he’s my father, my protector, and even though I trust our friends and family, I trust him more. His eyes are everywhere, trained on point. I don’t want anything to happen to my dad. I do know he will refuse to let anyone take care of what’s his, especially after the hell I went through with Roan’s older brother, Royal; a man I didn’t know before he kidnapped me. Besides, both of them know my dad has trained me to shoot. I hope I remember how. I’m not invincible, none of us are. But I sure as hell will not lie down and let anyone trample all over me. Especially men who don’t respect me.
I’m sick and tired of this shit. Here we think everything is fine. Those people will stick with the rules. You stay in your territory, and I’ll stay in mine. Hell no, someone crossed over. Someone shot our loved one in cold blood.
“WOW!!! This was an incredible ride!!!!” – #ReaderReview
“One cannot go wrong with an L.P. Dover book.” – #ReaderReview
“The suspense of this book blew my mind. Deff another five star read written by lp Dover. ❤️” – #ReaderReview
Wild, reckless, and fast.
That’s how I raced until a fatal accident on the track ruined my riding career. I had no choice but to leave that life behind; at least, until now. My name is Logan Chandler, one of the best FBI agents in the country. When an old friend calls for help and winds up dead, I take matters into my own hands. In order to do that, I have to go back to my past, back to the racetrack and to the one girl I never thought I’d see again . . . Kassidy Bennett.
She’s the key to solving it all, but bringing her in could put her in grave danger. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize she was already there. To save her, I have to put everything on the line. It’s a race against time, a race to the death, and only one will make it to the end.
“Kassidy, I know you’re in there. Please open the door.” There was a sheer curtain over the glass panes and if I moved across the room he’d see me. All I could hear was the thumping of my heart. “Kassidy, please. I need to talk to you. I’m not leaving until I do. You know I won’t.”
“Shit,” I hissed low. He was right. If anyone had the patience to sit around for hours, it was him. He’d done the same thing to me years ago when I told him I wouldn’t go on a date with him. He stayed on my porch for hours and slept on the swing. At the time, I loved his persistence. I wanted to go on a date with him, but I was curious to see how far he’d go.
Knowing he wouldn’t leave unless I made him, I thrust the door open, embracing the anger I felt welling in my chest. I needed it to get rid of him. Logan stepped back and I held my breath, taking in the desperate look in his eyes. For a second, I could feel my resolve slip, but then I remembered the hurtful words he said to me in the hospital.
“There’s nothing to say, Logan. If you want to say you’re sorry, then say the words and get the hell out of here. Other than that, I have no desire to see or talk to you.”
He looked straight into my eyes. “Saying I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, but I am. I am so fucking sorry for what I did.”
“Great, you said it. We’re done here. Goodbye Logan.” I slammed the door on him and locked it.
“Dammit, Kassie.”
“Don’t call me that!” I shouted, slamming my hand against the door.
He moved closer to the door and I stepped back. “I know you’re pissed at me, but I need you to hear me out. I’ll stay out here the whole night if I have to.”
“Not if I call the police.”
“They’re not gonna be able to do anything to me. At least, not before I get in there myself.” The doorknob wiggled and I gasped.
“What are you doing? You can’t come in here,” I growled.
“Yes, I can, and I will. If it’s the only way to make you listen I don’t care what I have to do.” He fumbled with the doorknob again and I choked, stumbling back into one of my bar stools. I had no doubt he could get in my house, but I wasn’t going to be in it when he did. Grabbing my phone, I jammed it into my back pocket and raced to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I had to get out of there fast.
I changed into a pair of jeans and fetched my black leather jacket out of my closet so I could put it on. My motorcycle and helmet were in my garage but all I had to do was climb out my window to get to them. “Kassie!” Logan called out. The front door slammed shut and I sucked in a breath; it was time.
Opening my window, I carefully slipped out. Logan knocked on my bedroom door and tried my handle. “Kassidy, please come out. I don’t want to do this.”
As soon as I was out the window, I raced to my garage. Slamming my helmet on my head, I jumped on my bike and turned the key. The engine roared to life as I revved it and I sped out of the garage as fast as I could. Logan had no idea I could ride, but I wished I could see the look on his face when he saw me. All I knew was that I had to get away from him, and fast.
Once out of the driveway, I took a left turn, clearly realizing the lapse in judgment. It was the road I’d avoided ever since Levi died on it. “Dammit,” I cried. My eyes started to water and there was no way I could wipe the tears away with my helmet on and going down the road. The sound of Logan’s bike drew close behind and I panicked. What was I going to do?
He gained up to me, clearly not stopping unless I did. More tears fell down my cheeks; especially when I arrived at the spot where Levi was ran off the road. I pulled over and shut off my bike, ripping off my jacket so I could breathe. Logan parked beside me, but I jumped off my bike and walked away from him to the dented guardrail. I took off my helmet and stared at the rubber markings on the metal. My fingers traced the tire marks and I broke down, falling to my knees. My heart felt as if it’d been ripped out my chest.
Logan’s hands closed over my shoulders, but I smacked them away. “Don’t touch me.”
His touch left my body, but I could feel his warmth as he sat beside. “I didn’t know you could ride.”
“Levi and Sean taught me after you left. It helped get my mind off of things.” I tried not to look down in the ravine where Levi was found, but I couldn’t help it. The amount of pain he must’ve felt had to be excruciating. I slammed my hand against the guardrail and sobbed.
“I’m gonna miss him too, Kassidy. Levi was a good friend.”
Angrily, I wiped my tears away and scoffed. “How would you know? You left eight years ago and never looked back.”
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover, is a southern belle residing in North Carolina along with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she even began her literary journey she worked in Periodontics enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries. Not only does she love to write, but she loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes, white water rafting, and you can’t forget the passion for singing. Her two number one fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime and those songs usually consist of Christmas carols. Aside from being a wife and mother, L.P. Dover has written over fifteen novels including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, the Gloves Off series, and her standalone novel, Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read is romantic suspense and she also loves writing it. However, if she had to choose a setting to live in it would have to be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.
L.P. Dover is represented by Marisa Corvisiero of Corvisiero Literary Agency.
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