Apologies for any posts/reviews not up. My mom lives in PA and I live in SC. She fell and broke her arm. Since she lives alone and couldn’t take care of herself, I went up for her. Well, we broke down in Virginia, mom got sick, had to call ambulance. Sitting in hospital in Virginia while she has tons of tests, may be admitted. Not sure how or when getting back. Hubby thankfully called from home and booked hotel room, kids are there and safe. Just another day in my life.
Everyone wants to sample forbidden fruit. A single taste is never enough to satisfy the craving.
The coach you desperately want to learn a few things from…
An intern you meet on the streets of Chicago…
The underage neighbor you can’t stay away from…
A bearded bartender you lust after despite the ring on your finger…
The airman you want even though he’s under your command…
A young doctor who crosses moral boundaries…
The best friend’s daughter you can’t keep your eyes off of…
Dig into one sinful collection of seven stories all with one common theme—Forbidden Love.
All proceeds will be going to The Bookworm Box.
Too bad I wasn’t awake for it.
The video went viral. Of course it would. A Senator’s daughter on camera? Wouldn’t you click “share”? Besides, that’s what three of the four guys in the video did.
They shared me.
But that fourth guy? The nondescript one in the background in the upper left corner of the screen, just sitting on the couch? The only one who did nothing?
Not one single thing.
That was my boyfriend, Drew.
And that was the last time I saw him.
Until today, when my father—now on a path to the White House—hired him as head of security for my new team as I return home after four years of “recovering” in an undisclosed location that involved white lab coats, needles, pills and damage control.
You see, the other three guys never went to jail. Never had charges pressed.
Never faced consequences.
* * *
I break away. I’m not his moon.
“You should be sorry,” I snap, marching toward my destination, fighting the soft ground. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to do this. Not now. Definitely not right now. I haven’t seen him for four years. Four long, painful, horrible years. More than 1,400 days of waking every morning knowing I wasn’t with him. Knowing he sat there that night and did nothing while three men raped me. Degraded me. Used and abused me and enjoyed it.
My body goes into a full-blown supernova, skin on fire at the thought. My rage cannot be contained by a mere mortal body.
I turn around. He’s right there, following me.
“Go the fuck away, Drew. I told you. I hate your guts. Leave me alone.”
At least, I think that’s what I say. My mind can’t process words and thoughts right now. I am fixated on the red door at the back entrance of the house, the sprawling mansion that is the only home I’ve ever known, aside from Daddy’s townhome in Washington D.C. If I can make it to that red door without Drew touching me, if I can make it to my bedroom and to my medications where I can take enough to fall asleep, maybe I can get my brain to work again.
Meli Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents, bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes — and the women who love them.
Meli rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.
In Heather Boyd’s The Christmas Affair, a lonely shopkeeper offers shelter to a beautiful, not so innocent miss to overcome the bitter memories of Christmases past, but could such a wicked connection ever lead to a happily-ever-after?
A dashing spy with marriage on his mind seeks to rekindle the spark by any means possible with the woman who claimed his heart in Love at First Dance by Barbara Monajem.
A scandalous widow rescues the man of her dreams – but his secrets could destroy their love in Nicola Davidson’s Joy to the Earl.
A masquerade ball was no place to be reckless with your innocence, and yet one scorching look at the masked highwayman urges Miss Partridge to do just that in Mistletoe and the Marquess by Wendy Vella.
In Lord Misrule by Donna Cummings, a young widow chooses a handsome rogue to be her first lover, but his regrets from a past Christmas may end their affair before it even commences.
A blue-stocking becomes a courtesan to escape a murderer in The Glittering Prize, an intrigue-filled romance by Beverley Oakley about finding love where it’s least expected.
This is an all-new collection of stand-alone complete works.
Bestselling historical author Heather Boyd believes every character she creates deserves their own happily-ever-after, no matter how much trouble she puts them through. With that goal in mind, she writes steamy regency romance stories that skirt the boundaries of propriety to keep readers enthralled until the wee hours of the morning. Heather has published thirty novels and shorter works. Catch her latest news http://www.heather-boyd.com. She lives north of Sydney, Australia, and does her best to wrangle her testosterone-fuelled family (including cat Morpheus) into submission.
Award-winning author Barbara Monajem wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. She published a middle-grade fantasy when her children were young, then moved on to paranormal mysteries and Regency romances with intrepid heroines and long-suffering heroes (or vice versa). She lives near Atlanta, Georgia with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays.
New Zealander Nicola Davidson adores writing witty, erotic, and twisty turny romance, with Regency and Tudor tales under her own name and contemporary as Lani Hughes. When not chained to her computer she loves the beach, history geeking, and cheering on the champion All Blacks rugby team, preferably accompanied by gourmet chocolate and diet soda.
With 16 books published, best-selling author Wendy Vella’s passion for romance novels has grown stronger with every new release. She has multiple ideas running through her head at all times, and loves writing strong heroes and feisty heroines. Humor is her trademark, and mix that with sensuality and intrigue and you have a book that will keep you turning the page until the end.
Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. But drowning her heroine on the last page was not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist. Since 2009, Beverley has published more than thirteen sizzling historical romances, filled with mystery and intrigue, mostly set in England during the Georgian, Regency and Victoria eras, under the name Beverley Oakley.
Beverley lives near Melbourne opposite a picturesque nineteenth century insane asylum with the handsome Norwegian bush pilot she met while running a safari lodge in Botswana, their two beautiful daughters and a rambunctious Rhodesian Ridgeback the size of a pony. She also writes psychological historicals, and Colonial-Africa- set romantic adventures, as Beverley Eikli.
Donna Cummings has worked as an attorney, a winery tasting room manager, and a retail business owner, but nothing beats the thrill of writing humorously-ever-after romance.
She resides in New England but fantasizes about spending the rest of her days in a tropical locale, wearing flip flops year-round, or in Regency London, scandalizing the ton.
She can usually be found on Twitter talking about writing and coffee, and on Facebook talking about coffee and writing.
Every small town has that one family that’s more savage than civilized. The ones that are more myth and legend than man. In Old Settlers, Oklahoma that’s the Bomar boys. Wild, reckless and vicious, they skirt the line of criminal and trip over it more often than not. They are their own punchline: white trash but proud beyond compare. Dirty and dangerously sexy, it’s best to steer clear of them or else risk your life… and your heart. These are their stories.
Colt Bomar is a bastard. A dirty, violent piece of white trash, he makes no apologies for who and what he is. He’s never cared what anyone thinks of him and he cares even less about trying to be a better kind of man… until her.
She’s everything he’s not. Good, sweet, gentle, she’s an angel that brightens his dark existence. But he’s seen the kind of destruction a man like him can wreak and he intends to protect her from that, from him, if it’s the only good thing he ever does.
Skylar Holland is no angel. Angels don’t lust after the bad-tempered boy next door when they’re involved with another man. They don’t dream about having the rough hands and sinful mouth of a guy that snaps and snarls at them all over their body. And that’s what she’s wanted from Colt since the moment the troubled Bomar boy said they were nothing but friends.
Friends? With a man that makes her blood boil and her heart melt? No, she wants more. She wants everything. And she’s not about to apologize for going after what she knows they both want. Forever.
Can he overcome his past to give her the future he knows she deserves? or is he doomed to repeat the sins of his father by dragging her down into the darkness with him? And if she treads into the shadows to win him will she even still be the woman he wants when they come out the other side?
*No Apologies is the second book in the Bomar Boys series but can be read as a stand-alone. Each book features one couple and a HEA but do build on each other so they are best read in order.
**Warning** This book contains explicit language, sexual scenes and violence. Though not depicted, mentions of abuse are key to the storyline and can be a trigger for some.
Jess Bryant has always been a writer. As a little girl she spent hours in her room putting pen to paper and creating stories. She’s been reading and writing romance novels since she first stole a book from her aunt’s Harlequin collection when she was thirteen years old. She earned a degree in Public Relations from the University of Oklahoma. When she’s not writing, Jess can usually be found curled up with a glass of wine and a good book or yelling at the television during sporting events with friends and family. For more information on Jess and upcoming releases, contact her at JessBryantBooks@gmail.com.
The woman’s shelter gave Gia two options. A house in the middle of Wyoming or share a duplex in Montana with a biker.
From the first day of her arrival to Haugan, Gia pushes herself into Swiss’s routine. Then, danger moves her into his side of the duplex. The stoic biker with few words and more mystery than her body can handle pulls her under his protection with a profound commitment to keeping her safe from the men trying to kill her. But, close encounters and long nights fail to protect her heart, and she falls in love with Swiss. And, that’s the one stipulation guaranteed to push Swiss away from her.
Swiss’s ex-Army skills benefit Ronacks Motorcycle Club and the patch on his vest gives him the freedom to live without responsibilities. Responsibilities that nearly killed him in the past. He thrives off solitude until his isolated existence gets interrupted when a sexy lady moves into the duplex and his gut tells him something isn’t right.
She caught herself panting and closed her mouth.
“Not here.” He straightened and looked around the room and mumbled, “Later.”
“Later?” She ducked her chin. Oh God, she’d said that out loud.
He chuckled low. “Do you need a specific time?”
She looked through lowered lashes. “That might help because I can’t even think right now with you blurting out everything I’m thinking and looking at me that way and me being scared and not knowing what is going on with everything outside of us…and you. You scare me, Swiss.”
He ran his thumb and index finger down the outside lines of his goatee. “All you have to do is tell me no.”
“No,” she blurted. “I mean yes. I want you to kiss me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. Gia sighed in impatience.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. You’re like nobody I’ve ever known.” She glanced around making sure they hadn’t grabbed anyone else’s attention. “I’m also feeling guilty.”
She sagged in her chair. “I came here with the intent to use you for protection like some big warning sign to keep the bad men away and instead…”
“Instead, you want me,” he said, shrugging. “It is what it is, sweetheart.”
She lives with her family in the Bitterroot Mountains of beautiful Northern Idaho where she enjoys the outdoors, the four seasons, and small-town living.
I’ve loved him as long as I can remember.
The gangly boy with big brown eyes and unruly hair who grew up into an intoxicating man. He wears scruff like he invented it and ambles with a swagger that makes panties drop.
We grew up together. We played Ghost in the Graveyard. Had our own rock band. It didn’t matter that he was five years older than me. It didn’t matter that he looked at me as a kid sister even as I grew into a woman. It didn’t even matter when he left me behind to go to college and start his adult life.
He’d be back.
He was always meant to be mine.
He came back, all right. But instead of smelling of promises, he stunk of betrayal. And he destroyed me—us—the day he married my sister instead of me.
So I did the only thing a girl like me in my position could do.
I got my revenge.
I married his brother, Kael.
Now we’re one big happy fucking family.
*NO CHEATING STANDALONE*
Then he came into my life.
But hope led only to disappointment.
* * *
Mia woke something inside me I thought died long ago.
But hope was a liability I couldn’t afford.
“Roman!” Mia squealed. She jumped out of the way as flour exploded out of the mixer and all over the counters, floor, and cabinets. “You can’t just dump flour into the mixer! You have to go slow about it.” She bumped me out of the way with her hip, measured out more flour, then poured it into the mixer. She put a little bit at a time before pouring more in. It was a slow process, but the look on her face . . . I loved how focused she was. There was a tiny crease between her eyebrows and her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth just a little bit. Just enough to make me crave leaning closer to taste her.
I pushed that thought away quickly. “I’m not a master baker like you are.” I smirked at her and her cheeks flushed. Knowing she reacted to me, no matter how small, gave me a rush. It made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years. I forgot how good it felt to be around a woman and enjoy her company.
I also forgot how much blue balls fucking sucked.
Mia turned the mixer off. “You don’t want to put the chips in with the mixer going. You want to fold them in.”
“You can fold dough?”
She nodded, never taking her eyes off what she was doing. She was meticulous about every step of the process. From the measuring of the ingredients to how and when they were added. She was in a zone and it turned me on. Watching her with her red apron on made me want to lift her onto the counter and taste the cookie dough off her lips. She said she wanted my help, but all I’d done is fuck up with the flour. “You can. Watch.” She grabbed a spatula and mixed the dough. I had no idea what she was doing that was any different than what she did before, but I didn’t question her. She knew what she was doing.
She had a little flour in her hair and a bit of her ponytail escaped and hung over her forehead as she worked. She made me ache. My arms ached to grab her close. My lips ached to taste her. My body ached to possess her. These feelings had been growing steadily over the last few weeks. As she opened up more and more to me, it got worse. I understood why she was so closed off and seeming to not live. I understood her sadness, her detachment from life. I understood her. I knew what it was like to lose your hope, your future, your everything.
“Perfect,” she muttered to herself. She doled out dough with a little scooper that looked like the smallest ice cream server I’d ever seen. She dropped each blob onto a cookie sheet, quickly and efficiently and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. My chest hurt watching her, so I rubbed it softly. Once she put the sheet into the oven, she turned around and rested her hands on her hips, her smile radiant. “First batch is in the oven.” Her eyes fell down to my chest and she laughed, though she tried to suppress it. “Uh, Roman? You’re a mess.”
I looked down at my black shirt, though it hardly looked it now. Flour splotches made it look black and gray.
“You might want to go brush your shirt off . . . outside.” Mia moved as though she was about to walk around me, but she stopped when I gripped the bottom of my shirt. I whipped it over my head and balled it up.
“Now flour won’t go everywhere.”
Her eyes skated over my skin, from my eyes to my waistband. They studied every inch of me as her mouth moved slightly, like she was forming silent words, her eyes wide.
I’d rendered her speechless. I liked that. I liked the color creeping into her cheeks and the way her chest moved rapidly with every breath.
“I, uh.” She cleared her throat. “I have to get the next batch of cookies ready to go into the oven.” She ducked her head and walked around me. The air between us was heavy, full of anticipation, arousal, and desire. I watched her, wishing I was brave enough to reach out and take what I wanted.
And, damn it, I wanted her.
“Is something the matter?” I asked, wanting her to say something. I wanted her to say there was something there between us, to give me permission to act on this crazy attraction between us.
“No, nothing. I just don’t want to forget what I’m doing.” She looked back over her shoulder at me, her eyes lingering on my arms.
“Am I distracting you?” I tossed my shirt onto the floor by the back door and stepped closer to her, leaning my hip against the counter. Her bare arm brushed against me as she moved. She jumped and scrambled away. The side of my mouth twitched, fighting the smirk that wanted to break free.
“No, not at all.” She sidled a few inches away, but kept working. Mia’s eyes were focused firmly on the task at hand. I slid a bit closer until she bumped into me again. She braced her hands on the counter as though it took a great deal of effort from her to ignore me. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Mia?” I moved closer to her. This time our skin was touching, there wasn’t any space between us. I felt the goosebumps pop up on her arm as she stiffened. “Are you okay?” She nodded quickly, her breathing rapid. Her sweet scent wafted up, enticing me. I grabbed her shoulder and turned her toward me. Her eyes slowly met mine. “Are you sure?” She didn’t move. Her breath seemed to have stopped in her chest as she looked up at me, raw emotion in her eyes. In that moment, I knew she wanted me, too. I wasn’t alone in feeling this pull between us. I was done pretending and denying. I cupped her face in my hands, gazing into her eyes. She seemed so uncertain and so fragile. I wanted to hold her together and make her feel better. I wanted her to lean into me instead of away.
I wanted so damn much from her.
I moved even closer, dropping my face closer to hers as she looked up at me. Her hands went to my arms, holding me away or pulling me closer, neither of us knew. Closer still, I ran my nose along hers, waiting for her to make a move. She smelled faintly of sugar, vanilla, and butter and I couldn’t wait to see if she tasted like it, too.
Finally, I had enough. I melded my mouth to hers. It wasn’t an innocent peck, a testing of what was between us; it was immediately passionate. Her hands tightened on my arms and one of my hands moved into her hair. She tasted better than I imagined she would as our lips continued tasting and wanting. She tasted like the cookie dough we had just been making and something else, something sweet I couldn’t quite place my finger on, but I knew I was addicted. One taste would never be enough. She’d be my favorite flavor.
Mia whimpered, a small noise in the back of her throat. I grabbed her ass and pulled her hips flush with mine, letting her know exactly what she was doing to me. All the dinners and sweets we’d shared had filled her out so nicely. It fit in my hand and quickly became my second favorite part of her—after her lips. She clutched me closer. Her tongue swept over my lips and I felt as if my knees were about to buckle. It’d been so long—so long—since I had someone in my arms, someone’s lips pressing against my own. I couldn’t get enough. That it was Mia, my sweet, docile neighbor, the girl I thought had been walking toward death’s door a few short months ago, blew my mind.
Her hands moved everywhere. Over my arms, my chest, my abs. One hand fisted in my hair like she was holding me hostage, not letting me get away from her. Not this time and not ever.
I was surprisingly okay with that.
Just as my hand skimmed her back, the oven timer blared. Mia jerked away from me, her chest heaving and her eyes wide in surprise and disbelief. Her fingers trailed over her lips as she stared at me. The timer went off behind us, having broken our connection, but not completely severing it. We were still lost in each other. After a few more seconds, Mia shook her head.
“I have to get that.” She pointed over her shoulder to the oven, though her eyes never left mine. She smiled weakly before turning around and rushing to the oven. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched her move around the kitchen, preparing another batch of cookies for the oven. I knew, in that moment, a kiss wouldn’t be enough. I wanted more of Mia. I wanted her smiles, laughter, tears, and anger. I wanted all of it. Except I was in no position to accept it. I wasn’t worthy of her beauty, inside or out. As much as I craved more, I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t subject her to me.
I grabbed my shirt off the floor. “I just remembered, I have plans. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”
“Oh,” Mia said as she whirled around, a cookie sheet in her hand. “Sure, no problem. Thanks for the, um, help.” She smiled.
“Of course.” I left her house and shrugged into my shirt.
At home, I got in the shower, making sure it was sufficiently cold. Bracing my hands on the wall, I hung my head, chastising myself for being so weak. And pathetic.
That only happened in books. Fictional disasters like the kind I wrote. It wasn’t supposed to happen to me, Sam Stone. My life was supposed to be orderly. Organized. Perfect.
But I had no control over my fiancé’s decision to leave me.
What better place to be alone while nursing my broken heart than in paradise, right? Two weeks of sandy beaches and tranquil waters to quietly rethink my life.
That’s what I thought anyway—until Drew Mariano came along and shook everything up. He shook me up.
He made me forget myself. And that was good.
He made me want to take chances. And that was hard.
He made me feel high on life. And that was amazing.
But I was afraid…the higher I got…
I was going
Beth Michele is an author of M/F and M/M New Adult and Contemporary Romance. She writes stories with heart, about love, life, and everything in between. She is a Connecticut native who loves spending time with her husband and two children. If you can’t find her, though, she’s probably hiding out with either her laptop or Kindle somewhere quiet, preferably a spot overlooking the ocean. She has an affinity for Twizzlers, Swedish Fish, and makes a damn good hot chocolate.
Merciless and powerful, Ashton Lennox is a wealthy man because he puts business before everything else, especially love. As a member of the infamous League of Rogues, he’s no stranger to scandal. His bedroom conquests are as legendary as his fortune. As he searches for a way to bring down an old enemy bent on destroying the lives of his friends, the last thing he needs is a Scottish widow getting in his way.
A FIERY WOMAN WHO WON’T BACK DOWN…
The daughter of a Scottish lord with a dark and treacherous past, Rosalind Melbourne has spent years distancing from her past. After escaping her tyrannical father and marrying an aging English lord, she has become a powerful widow with a business empire at her command. Her business dealings are everything to her, leaving her no time for love. Especially not with her business rival Ashton, a man with a scandalous reputation as striking as his blue eyes.
A GAME OF WITS TURNS TO A GAME OF SEDUCTION…
Ashton is fascinated by the strong-willed, intelligent and sensual lady who, up until now, had outsmarted him at every turn. Rosalind wishes she could deny she is falling for the brooding, handsome baron. How can she possibly trust him when doing so could cost her what she values most—her freedom? When Ashton discovers Rosalind might hold the key to saving the League of Rogues, he knows he will do anything to woo his wicked lass. As their pasts return to haunt them and dark forces rise to keep them from exposing a deadly spymaster, their game of love turns to a game of survival…
Warning: This book includes a brooding baron who’s wild in bed, a crafty Scottish lass who never knows when to quit, a wicked game of strip chess, and a merry band of rogues whose first instinct is to run they hear wedding bells ring.