Newlyweds Jay and Adriana had a happy marriage and a spectacular sex life—until tragedy struck. Wounded in a car accident, Jay spent a year recuperating while Adriana worked overtime as a chef to pay their bills. Though he’s made nearly a full recovery, some aspects of their intimate play will never be the same. It’s a small price to pay, all things considered.
But when a long struggle with the insurance company results in an overdue payout, Jay has a plan. He’ll take some of it and hire a high-end rent boy who specializes in sexual dominance. Not for him, but as a gift for Adriana, for taking care of him for the past twelve months.
Paul is the handsome stranger they choose…and the one who changes everything. What starts out as a onetime session to fulfill a fantasy turns into something bigger than all of them. But when the money runs out and Paul’s dangerous past resurfaces, the sacrifices required to stay together may end up tearing them apart…
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Solace Ames has roots in the Southeast US, although her heart lives somewhere along the Pacific coast of Mexico. She’s worked in restaurants, strip clubs, academia and the corporate world and studied everything from the philosophy of science to queer theory to medieval Spanish literature. Rejecting neat categories, her writing sprawls across genres and genders and swings from high art to low art, marching with the erotic avant-garde, tongue sometimes in cheek and at other times… well. Along with writing, education and political activism are her passions. Family takes up most of her time, but she loves to keep learning.
Website and Blog: www.solaceames.com
From award-winning author Susannah Sandlin comes a heart-pounding romantic thriller that pits a quick-witted scientist and a scarred ex–combat diver against a ruthless billionaire treasure hunter with ties to the White House.
When biologist Gillian Campbell makes an offhand comment about a family curse during a TV interview, she has no idea what her words will set in motion. Within days, Gillian finds herself at the mercy of a member of the C7, a secretive international group of power brokers with a dangerous game: competing to find the world’s most elusive treasures, no matter the cost, in money or in lives.
To save her family, Gillian teams up with Shane Burke, a former elite diver who’s lost his way, navigating the brutal “death coast” of the North Atlantic to find what the collector seeks: the legendary Ruby Cross of the Knights Templars, stolen by Gillian’s ancestor and lost at sea four hundred years ago.
Release Info- LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP is being released in eight multi-chapter weekly episodes through Feb. 18. The current price for the entire eight-episode novel is $1.99 through Feb. 18 and will increase to $3.99 for Kindle afterward. The print and audio editions will be released on May 13, 2014, and will be available at venues other than Amazon.
He wasn’t sure what woke him, but the first thing Shane Burke saw when he cracked open his eyelids was the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, tipped over and resting on its side. He could’ve sworn he finished it off last night but there was at least an inch of rich amber liquid still resting inside.
Good. Now he didn’t have to wonder what he’d have for breakfast.
The second thing he saw was a great pair of legs. Well, technically, a great pair of ankles above a pair of leather sandals, and then the legs.
Obviously, he was starting his Saturday morning with hallucinations.
Only one good solution for that. He dangled an arm off the side of his bed and almost had his fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle when one of the leather sandals kicked his buddy Jack Daniel’s under the bed, clipping his hand in the process.
“Ow.” Hallucinations didn’t take his booze and kick him in the knuckles.
Ignoring the throbbing in his hand and the stabs of hangover agony behind his eyeballs, Shane rolled onto his back and squinted at the rest of his non-hallucination.
Shoulder-length hair that fell in a sheen of dark chestnut brown, fair skin, fierce brown eyes, red lips compressed in a tight line, black skirt and white blouse, big briefcase-style purse. Had he picked her up at Harley’s last night? If so, he had to cut back on the sauce.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I forgot your name.” Pity, ’cause she was a hot little number, way classier than the regulars at Harley’s. It’s not like he got laid so often that he could afford to forget it when he did.
“We haven’t met.” She propped her hands on her hips and muttered something that sounded like, “And you’re supposed to help me?”
Help her with what? Wait, maybe she was a charter. Had he chartered The Evangeline out to a tour group or fishing party today? Surely he’d remember if there was money coming in.
Color him officially confused. He struggled to a seated position and gave her another look. “What am I supposed to help you with?”
She crossed her arms and raked a ball-shriveling gaze the length of his body. “I came here to offer you a job, but I don’t think you’re up to it.”
He tugged the sheet up in self-defense. “I’m not at my best. Ever consider making an appointment? Not dropping in at the crack of dawn?” He had no idea what time it was but it couldn’t be that late.
“It’s past noon. And I didn’t figure, given your financial situation, that you’d be so picky about what time of day someone offered you money.” She shook her head. “Never mind. This was a mistake.”
She banged her head on the low doorway out of the master cabin, which served her right, the sanctimonious shrew.
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Susannah Sandlin writes paranormal romance and romantic thrillers from Auburn, Alabama, on top of a career in educational publishing that has thus far spanned five states and six universities—including both Alabama and Auburn, which makes her bilingual. She grew up in Winfield, Alabama, but was also a longtime resident of New Orleans, so she has a highly refined sense of the absurd and an ingrained love of SEC football, cheap Mardi Gras trinkets, and fried gator on a stick.
She’s the author of the award-winning Penton Legacy paranormal romance series, a spinoff novel, Storm Force, a standalone novelette, Chenoire, and a new romantic thriller series, The Collectors, beginning this month with Lovely, Dark, and Deep. Writing as Suzanne Johnson, she also is the author of the Sentinels of New Orleans urban fantasy series. Her Penton novel, Omega, is currently nominated for a 2013 Reviewer’s Choice Award in Paranormal Romance from RT Book Reviews magazine.
Website and blog www.suzannejohnsonauthor.com
A man driven by his desires
Tyler Moore is considered cold, ruthless, and determined to get everything he wants. CEO of a flourishing oil company, he thrives on order and never gives up control to anyone.
The woman from his past
Monique Delome has left her unhappy past behind to pursue her dream of becoming a writer. Love is something she believes is better suited to the pages of her novels and not meant for real life.
Whether in the boardroom or the bedroom, Tyler Moore is always in charge. But when Monique Delome walks back into his life, everything changes. A successful romance author, all the sexy leading men Monique writes about strangely remind everyone of Tyler. Intrigued, Tyler sets out to seduce the one woman he could never forget. Soon Tyler gets more than he bargained for, and his grip on his well-ordered life is turned upside down.
Tyler Moore is about to find out what happens when a romantic tale jumps from the pages and comes to life between the sheets.
“If I can be of any further assistance, Mr. Moore,” a peppy blonde with too much black eyeliner said to the man in the impeccably tailored, dark blue Hugo Boss suit. “Please, let me know. I have your suite key.” She pushed the white key-card over the surface of the front desk. “Your usual order of Veuve Clicquot and strawberries will be waiting in your room,” she added with a welcoming smile.
The self-assured gentleman removed his dark Porsche sunglasses and let his deep-set dark brown eyes linger over the young woman’s attractive face. “Afraid I won’t be needing that this time, Missy,” he murmured, getting a glimpse at her nametag.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Moore. I was informed you are always to have a bottle of Veuve Clicquot waiting in your room whenever you stay with us.”
Wandering over Missy’s stout figure, his eyes fixated on the way her blue blazer clung to her ample bosom. “I usually do when I’m staying here for a relaxing weekend. This time, however, is all business.” He placed his sunglasses in his jacket pocket.
Missy leaned forward, revealing her cleavage as her blue eyes meandered up and down his body. “I am very sorry to hear that, Mr. Moore.”
The flirtatious pout that puckered her red lips made Tyler Moore wipe his hand across his chin, attempting to hide his cocky grin. At six-foot-one, with black, wavy hair outlining his chiseled cheekbones and determined, square jaw, he was used to getting such suggestive looks from the opposite sex. But he knew that looks could only get you so far with a woman.
“How sorry are you?”
Missy’s eyes popped with interest. “I…I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Moore.”
“How sorry are you that I won’t be having any fun this weekend, Missy?”
She fingered the lapel on her blue blazer adjacent to her right breast. “I would hate to think your stay here would only be about business, Mr. Moore. If there was anything I could do to change that….”
He felt a kick of satisfaction as he gazed into her hopeful eyes. “Perhaps you might come up with a few suggestions of other ways I could spend my weekend in your wonderful hotel? We could go over them later…at the bar, after you get off work.”
The pale blush blossoming on her cheeks was so becoming that Tyler almost began to believe their playful repartee had been worth the effort.
“I’ll think about it, Mr. Moore.”
“You do that, Missy. When you have an answer, you know where to find me.” He motioned to his overnight bag and black suitcase by the desk. “Be a sweetheart, and have the porter take my bags to my room. I have to meet a client in the bar before I go up to my suite.”
The flush on Missy’s cheeks was positively radiant. “Yes, Mr. Moore. Right away.”
Tyler turned from the polished reception desk, unable to hide his smug grin. No matter where he went, the lust in a woman’s eyes never got old. The entire episode with the desk clerk had only reinforced his belief that it was his confidence, and not his looks, that always got a woman to give him what he wanted. He had learned long ago that his handsome face could only take him so far in life, and had made a concerted effort to take control of any situation. It was a philosophy he had incorporated into every arena of his life.
“I’ll have to check back in with sweet little Missy. See how she looks without the blazer.” He strutted across the lobby toward the arched entrance of the Rattlesnake Bar.
A warm glow of honey, onyx, and a contemporary Western-theme greeted him as he stepped into the cool bar. Perched on the brown leather barstools, an array of women sipped on a myriad of colorful alcoholic concoctions while trying to chase away the sweltering afternoon heat. Tyler noted how more than one set of eyes turned his way as he strolled up to the bar. He checked his confidence at the door and pushed all thoughts of possible late night hookups from his mind.
His flourishing oil and gas business was always more important than women. Besides, women were nothing more than a distraction at this point in his life. Having just passed the milestone of his fiftieth birthday, Tyler pondered that perhaps it was time for him to stop pursuing such meaningless liaisons and settle down with a tolerable woman who could cater to all of his needs.
“Two divorces is plenty,” he reasoned as he arrived at the onyx marble and teak-topped bar. Lightly stroking the smooth surface of the marble, he remembered many of the encounters he had experienced in that very bar. Snapshots of blurred faces and forgettable names skipped across his mind. Some of the women had been exciting, a few horrific, but none had been…memorable.
You know who was memorable, don’t you, Ty? his inner voice taunted. She was the one you let slip through your fingers.
Tyler snickered at his self-remonstrations. He hated to admit his inner demon was right, but it was. She had happened so long ago, but he found it funny how advancing age only seemed to make the memories of youth more poignant. It was as if growing older brought into focus the emotions that the impetuosity of youth seemed to blur.
Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Her first novel, To My Senses, introduced readers to the world of Nicci Beauvoir and garnered numerous awards and rave reviews.
Her popular second Nicci Beauvoir novel, Recovery, won the Gold Medal for best romantic suspense from The Reader’s Favorite Book Awards 2011, and was named best Romantic Suspense novel by the Spring 2011 NABE Pinnacle Book Awards.
Her fourth novel, Broken Wings, won best Contemporary Romance by the NABE Pinnacle Book Awards in 2012, was a Silver Medal winner in the ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Awards for Romance, as well as a finalist in the USA Book Awards for Romance in 2012, and a finalist in the Reader’s Favorite Book Awards for Contemporary Romance for 2012.
Diary of a One-Night Stand, was released in August 2012 and was named a Paranormal Romance Guild’s Best Reviewed of 2012. Her last novel, Acadian Waltz was a Readers’ Favorite Book Awards honorable mention winner for Best Contemporary Romance, and finalist in Best Southern Fiction.
A permitted wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.
That is how I’ve spent my last few days.
I’m pretty sure my printer is ready to walk out and never come back. I’ve been through 2 sets of cartridges and printed in the neighborhood of 500 book handout cards in the last week. I haven’t even counted the number of pages of paper, notes, lists and story.
I’ve packed, checked, and rechecked and tomorrow I will load the truck. I’m excited for the weekend, but more than ready for it to get here already.
I’ll see you at the Festival.
We’re less than a week out, and I’ve been working on my packing lists…
So come on out and see me, I’ll be at booth #260, the Yuma Area Authors booth.
Now to get it all gathered up. I’m all but shaking in excitement! I’ll have copies of all my print books there. If you see me, I’ll even sign them for you!
The WMC series. This book will be $13
As well as my stand alone novel. This book will be $12
What I won’t have with me…. copies of my ebook only prequel to Jade’s Peace. Here’s the cover and links for where to buy it (it’s only $.99!)
In the blink of an eye Megan Johnson’s perfect life turns into a nightmare. Her beloved husband mysteriously dies in a car crash and her fourteen-year-old son, Tristan, runs away with a diabolical cult leader named Vincent Hellion. Her world is spiraling to destruction. She leans on her husband’s best friend, Rhett Foster, for support and help. But when feelings she thought she never had for Rhett begin to surface and unknown psychic powers possess her, she becomes more confused than ever. She tries to push her feelings for Rhett aside and focus on her visions to save her son before it’s too late.
Rhett Foster has loved Megan for so long. But he never confessed his feelings to her because his best friend was her husband. Now that her husband is dead, he struggles with his conscience. Should he tell Megan how he really feels or should he honor his best friend’s memory?
Megan’s desperate quest to find and free her son sets them both on a path of love, danger, and renewal. If they return, their lives will be changed forever.
Megan closed the door and leaned on it. She began to cry. Fatigue and the doctor’s words took their toll on her.
Rhett hugged her and caressed her long hair. “You heard what the doctor said? Tristan is going to be all right.”
She sniffled. “But what if he gets worse? Mark and he were so close. He lost his whole world a few days ago.”
“He still has you,” Rhett said.
“Yeah, but what if he doesn’t let me in? What if he won’t let me help him and support him? He’s a teenager now, Rhett. At his age, who knows how he will react.”
Rhett stared into her eyes, which she knew were watery, red, and puffy. “Then I’m here. Granted, my relationship with Tristan isn’t anywhere as close as his relationship had been with his dad, but we are still close. If he won’t confide in you, then I’ll try. The kid is tough. You and Mark hit the jackpot with him. He’ll be okay.”
“I hope you’re right, Rhett.”
He pulled out a compact pouch of tissues from his suit pocket. “Here you go.”
She smiled, wiped her teary eyes, and jokingly said, “Thanks, do you have any mascara in there, too?”
He put his hand in his pocket to check. “No, just a small lint remover. Care to use it?”
They both laughed at his joke. Then Megan felt a twinge of guilt for experiencing a happy emotion when she buried her husband just a few hours before. She turned serious. “Why is it that you always know what to say or do? It’s like you can read my mind.”
He smiled as he raised his left eyebrow. “That’s because we’ve known each other almost all our lives.”
“That’s true. There’s nothing we don’t know about each other. We have no secrets. You’re like the big brother I always wanted.”
Looking up into the air, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I know. You always say that.”
“But it’s true. You’ve always been there for me, and for Mark.” A yawn escaped her lips. “What am I thinking right now?”
Rhett winked as he spoke. “Okay, okay, I get the hint. I’ll go now.” With genuine concern, he continued, “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes, I think I’ll go to bed early.”
He opened the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow from work. Bye.” He kissed her cheek and left.
* * * *
As Rhett closed the door behind him, he rubbed his nose. Megan’s soft locks had tickled his cheek. He could still smell her strawberry scented shampoo. He thought about what she had just said as he stood on her porch. “We have no secrets,” she’d uttered. She was wrong.
He had a secret that he kept from her all of these years. He wondered if he should ever tell her the truth. Their friendship would be at great risk if he did.
Rhett got into his car, put on the radio, and tuned it to his favorite station. The Wind Beneath My Wings was playing. He had a flashback of when he and Megan had been seventeen. They were dancing to this song at their prom.
Since they didn’t have any dates, they decided to go with each other. A smile formed on his face as he remembered how they both had two left feet. A spectacle they had made of themselves on the dance floor. Ah, the fun times they had. Megan was certainly someone special. How boring his life would have been if she had never come into it.
He drove off, vowing to protect her and her son in these troubled times. He owed it to Mark and to himself.
Giovanna Lagana is a freelance author. Some of her short stories and poems have been featured in magazines like Tales of the Talisman, Short-Story.Me, Static Movement, and Fear and Trembling Magazine, etc.
To learn more about Giovanna and her writing, please check her website at: www.giovannalagana.com
When recently-deceased Irene Dunphy decided to “follow the light,” she thought she’d end up in Heaven or Hell and her journey would be over.
Boy, was she wrong.
She soon finds that “the other side” isn’t a final destination but a kind of purgatory where billions of spirits are stuck, with no way to move forward or back. Even worse, deranged phantoms known as “Hungry Ghosts” stalk the dead, intent on destroying them. The only way out is for Irene to forget her life on earth—including the boy who risked everything to help her cross over—which she’s not about to do.
As Irene desperately searches for an alternative, help unexpectedly comes in the unlikeliest of forms: a twelfth-century Spanish knight and a nineteenth-century American cowboy. Even more surprising, one offers a chance for redemption; the other, love. Unfortunately, she won’t be able to have either if she can’t find a way to escape the hellish limbo where they’re all trapped.
I am THRILLED beyond all measure to finally be able to bring you Thereafter, and I want to thank all the fans who have waited (more or less patiently) an extra year for this book to finally come out. Thereafter would not have been possible without your support—thank you all! I hope you love this beautiful new cover as much as I do, and I hope you find Thereafter to be worth the wait.
Her hand touched a rock, one of the flat beach stones she’d seen on graves. She picked it up, laying it flat in her palm. She didn’t remember picking this up. In fact, she had been careful not to take any. It had seemed disrespectful and too much like stealing to remove them, and while she’d seen a few here—both loose and piled in cairns—she hadn’t picked any of them up. There had been no point. What would she do with a rock?
No wonder her bag was so heavy.
She tossed the rock over her shoulder and heard it hit the ground with a satisfying thud some distance away. It felt good to be rid of something, to make a decision and be sure it was the right one.
She surveyed the pile again and then grabbed a small handful of paper animals. She picked one up between a finger and thumb. It was a horse. Irene had been in Chinatown during Chinese Ghost Festival, a holiday in which the living left offerings for the dead. These offerings included paper replicas of things people thought the dead would need in the afterlife—money, clothes, television sets, and even animals. Irene had admired the precise and delicate folds of the Origami figures and had picked some up to admire them more closely. Without thinking, she had dropped them into her bag and apparently been carrying them ever since.
Well, even Jonah couldn’t argue with her on this—there was no way she was going to need a paper horse on her journey through the afterlife. Plus, these didn’t hold any sentimental value. She cast the horse onto a nearby fire and watched as the paper curled and blackened in the low-burning flames.
The fire leapt and seemed to glow blue for a moment. Irene tensed—what was happening?
Thick black smoke began to rise slowly from the flames, spiraling upward in a thickening column. The smoke grew denser and then elongated sideways. Irene leapt to her feet and backed away, her heart pounding. Something was forming in the fire.
The smoke was taking shape now; there was purpose and design in its movements. She could see a long, horizontal back, four legs, a neck, and finally a head and a tail. The smoke swirled with a final flourish and then shuddered into the solidity of a smoke-colored horse. The animal blinked passively. Then it violently shook its head, blew out a breath, and delicately picked its way forward out of the fire. It immediately put its head down and began to lip the ground, looking for food.
Irene stared stupidly at it. “Are you shitting me?”
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Terri Bruce has been making up adventure stories for as long as she can remember. Like Anne Shirley, she prefers to make people cry rather than laugh, but is happy if she can do either. She produces fantasy and adventure stories from a haunted house in New England where she lives with her husband and three cats.
Goodreads Profile: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6450132.Terri_Bruce
Facebook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Terri-Bruce-Fan-Page/325830544139030
Amazon Author Page: www.amazon.com/author/terribruce