The leaves are falling from the trees, the nights are growing darker — and love is in the chilly autumn air! Join twelve amazing authors for Hunky Halloween, a sexy-spooky contemporary romance series. Get ready for magical meet-cutes, costumed crushes, and all the over-the-top love you can handle because these stories are bringing the Halloween heat!
WOOING THE WITCH
BY V. KELLY
Release Date: October 16, 2020
Whitney Wallace is a WITCH.
Not the kind of witch that flies around on broomsticks or gets crushed by houses, but the kind of witch that has everyone in the halls running away screaming.
She’s mean, ruthless, and I’m pretty sure she’s allergic to fun.
For the last two years she’s been my college RA, and I’ve done my best to avoid her as much as possible. Her reputation leaves her less than desirable, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have forty-eight hours to woo The Witch and convince her to throw a party, or I can kiss my pledge into my dad’s fraternity goodbye.
I thought it was all going to be easy until I realized something very important about Whitney Wallace.
I might actually like her.
Pickled toad eyes, the wings of bats, and a sprinkle of nightshade won’t be needed for this potion of love, because I’m determined to woo The Witch and make this one Halloween Party neither of us will ever forget.
Monster boss. That’s what they call Jonathan Barnes, Boston’s most successful architect. They say he’s arrogant.
Demanding.
Impossible.
Cruel.
They say his gorgeous exterior conceals a wicked core. Like the rambling Victorians he restores, Jonathan Barnes is a complicated, beautiful, mysterious man.
He also famously fired three assistants in one day.
But he’s the best at what he does, which is why I’m determined to make a good first impression. Sure, I’m starting out as his secretary, and I’m wearing my sister’s hand-me-downs because I can’t afford new clothes.
But I can hide my working class roots. If I can tame the monster, I might just get to use my architecture degree.
It doesn’t matter that it’s Halloween on a Friday and my grad school friends are out celebrating. I’ve got one chance to show Jonathan Barnes I’m not afraid of him.
Of course, I didn’t count on being stuck with him all night in a building rumored to be haunted.
I’ve never worried about things that go bump in the night. Bump and grind is a whole other story…
Fifteen years ago I left home to pursue my dream, leaving all I ever known behind.
Making it can never replace what I lost. As the lead singer of one of the hottest bands in the country, I should be happy but there’s something missing in my life. Suddenly, I’m feeling restless and unfulfilled.
When I hear my best friend is getting married, I decide it’s time to return to Lost Hills. Secretly, I’m hoping I’ll have a great awakening.
One look at the bride’s best friend and I’m blown away. Everything becomes crystal clear and I know she’s meant to be mine.
Too bad she’s already made up her mind that I’m only after a fling. It’s time for me to prove to my girl I’m saving all my wicked ways for her, the woman I love.
Makeup-artist-to-the-stars Esther Donovitch adores the world of make-believe and movie- making but wishes her love life was more reality and less fantasy. It’s hard to meet a regular guy in her line of work, especially when nursing a secret crush on one of Hollywood’s most popular actors, Crew Cannon. When his fans crash a private Halloween party, Esther helps him escape, never anticipating that her good deed will lead to a spontaneous road trip across Napa wine country with the crazy-hot movie star who has the leading role in her steamy dreams.
Crew Cannon has it all—and he’s ready to hand it back. Raised by two of the industry’s biggest icons, he’s accustomed to fame and fortune, but suddenly he wants something different.
Something a little less pretend and a lot more real. But where does a guy with one of the most recognizable faces on the planet go to find a woman who will see the real Crew Cannon and not the glossy version? A generous, lovely, down to earth woman like Esther Donovitch.
When Esther and Crew arrive at their final destination, will it be the end of the journey…or just the start?
This collection of four special stories is brimming with flirting, fairy lights and festive cheer. Get into the holiday spirit and enjoy all the fun and romance that the season has to offer with this delightful Christmas anthology.
A Partridge in a Pear Tree: Holly has fallen in love with Cherrywell Manor, the place, the people and the parties. The sumptuous venue is playing host to her company’s Christmas charity gala dinner, if she can pull off the event of the century then she’s sure her boss will finally back off and then sacrificing her love-life for her career will all have been worth it. But when disaster strikes the most prestigious event of the year, she mustn’t let the enigmatic gardener, Rory, distract her from her rescue efforts. It’s not just her job at stake.
Two Turtle Doves: Douglas Whittaker really ruffles Angela Hart’s feathers; he’s nothing but a common thief to her. But when they are forced together to save more than Christmas, she finds the only thing he’s stolen is her heart.
Three French Hens: Greenway’s Bookshop holds thousands of old tales on its shelves, but a new romance is in the air this Christmas. The pursuit of an antique recipe book stirs up Gabrielle’s love life, but will she find her own happy ending, or are they only for the pages of her beloved books?
Four Calling Birds: Pour a glass of fizz and reunite with Jenny and the gang for an unconventional Christmas party. There’s a lot to celebrate.
Curl up and discover what true love will bring this Christmas.
Author’s note: This ChickLit collection comes with a dash of comedy and a sprinkle of romance, there’s a little bit of everything, just like a chocolate selection box! Sit back, unwrap and enjoy!
These four titles are also available separately as ebooks.
Sarah-Jane Fraser lives in England, in the West Country, with her husband and two daughters.
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She’s a book worm and loves losing herself in books, both reading and writing. If it’s good escapism she loves it, chicklit, fantasy, anything. She knew at the age of six that she wanted to be an author and has now self-published her first novel- The Spanish Indecision which is a finalist in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards 2018, as well as a standalone novella- Candlelight and Snowball Fights. She is currently working on her fourth book.
We are so excited to share the cover for the upcoming release, Second Start by S.E. Rose. Check out the fantastic cover for Second Start, a must-read second chance romance from the upcoming Holiday Springs Resort series!
Title: Second Start
Author: S.E. Rose
Release Date: 11/20/2020
Series: Holiday Springs Resort, # 5
Tropes/Genres: Second Chance, Contemporary Romance, Holiday Romance
Will a former Olympic athlete and budding musician get a second chance at their happily ever after?
Brittany Evans and Tyson Mitchell were the “it” couple in the Poconos. Until their own dreams and goals got in the way. With broken hearts, they both left their town while doing their best to never look back.
But, when a skiing injury and a failed singing career bring them both back home, they find that their feelings may not have iced over after all.
Fate has brought them together again, but if Tyson wants to win back Brittany’s heart, he’ll have to prove that she’s the only dream that matters.
Escape to the romantic paradise of Holiday Springs and warm-up with your next happily ever after.
USA Today & International Bestselling romance author, S.E. Rose lives near Washington D.C. with her family. When she’s not wrangling her cats or keeping up with her kids, she’s plotting her next story.
She loves all things wine, coffee, and cats. In her non-existent free time, she enjoys traveling, going to concerts, binging on her favorite shows, and reading, especially if it’s a good mystery or comedy.
Nestled deep in the mountains of Pennsylvania, Holiday Springs Resort promises to bring the heat this winter!
Join Forever Write PR and seven amazing authors as they take to the slopes on the adventure of a lifetime and find their happily ever afters.
From hot bartenders to brooding exes, Holiday Springs Resort is the place to be. Each story features a brand new couple and a fun trope to love from our amazing line up of authors including: second chance romance and best friend’s sibling to jilted brides and friends to lovers. Your holiday wonderland won’t be complete without a widower, office, and enemies to lovers romance.
We’ve got a remarkable line of up must-read romance authors including, A.M. Williams, Julie Archer, Kim Bailey, Moni Boyce, S.E. Rose, Stacey Lewis, and B. Ivy Woods.
This series and all promotional events are brought to you by Forever Write PR – Forever your source for all your writing needs. https://www.facebook.com/ForeverWritePR/
Lord Haddon is handsome, charming and at least a decade younger than the thrice-widowed Marissa. Engaging in an affair with Haddon might damage Marissa’s reputation and it will definitely compromise her heart. But Haddon can be very persuasive when he wants something and he wants Marissa. Will Marissa give into temptation and allow herself to love again? If you like steamy, historical romance you’ll love Wicked Again.
Lady Marissa Cupps-Foster has buried three husbands. Only one, her dear Reggie, was a love match. As a woman considered past her prime with two grown sons, she’s decided on discreet trysts when she feels the need for male companionship. Lord Trenton Haddon was only a dalliance. Haddon is tempting but far too young for her. And love is out of the question. Clearly, she isn’t good at it. Determined to forget Haddon, Marissa returns to London and immerses herself in society.
A former rake who has never been in love…
Seducing the widowed Lady Cupps-Foster was a way to pass the time at a dull house party but instead Haddon fell in love. Unfortunately, the object of his affection ended the affair and returned to London before he could declare himself. But Haddon has the perfect excuse to see Marissa again. His eldest daughter is about to make her debut and as a widower, he is in dire need of direction. Marissa won’t refuse his plea for help.
Another chance at love…
Haddon can be very persuasive when he wants something, and he wants Marissa. But Marissa is just as convinced he’ll eventually break her heart.
Will Marissa allow herself to find love again or will she stand by and watch Haddon marry someone else?
Wicked Again is a steamy historical romance set in post-regency London where scandal meets happily ever after. Book 7 of the Wickeds.
Despite wanting to forget him, the memory of Haddon never left Marissa, no matter how busy she had kept herself since her return to town. The destruction of Simon and his mother did take up a great deal of her time. And of course, she had holiday festivities to plan. Haddon shouldn’t have entered her thoughts at all.
“Lady Cupps-Foster.” The light, spicy scent Haddon favored hovered about his broad shoulders as he bowed before her.
Marissa inhaled sharply, filling her nostrils. Haddon’s scent had stayed with her, lingering along with her memories of him and the night she’d spent in his arms.
He took her hand, eyes flitting across her bosom as he straightened, a soft purr of male appreciation coming from his chest. The brush of his lips against her knuckles sent a tendril of warmth from her core to slide between her legs. But the touch of his tongue made her knees buckle.
Marissa abruptly snatched her hand from his.
A mischievous grin crossed his lips, meant to disarm her and indeed any lady he bestowed it upon. It made him quite irresistible.
An image of Haddon walking toward her, naked, the same grin firmly in place on his lips, flitted before her eyes.
The ballroom had grown very warm. She resisted the urge to fan herself.
Realistically, for any woman her age, there was always bound to be someone in the room she had been involved with. Two of Marissa’s previous lovers were at the Cambourne ball tonight, in fact, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember how they looked naked, nor, upon greeting them tonight, had she felt as if her heart might burst from her chest.
“Lord Haddon, how lovely to see you again.”
“Isn’t it though?” His grin widened further. “Dance with me?” he said as the musicians began to play. Without waiting for an answer, Haddon took her hand in his and led her out to the dance floor, his grip on her fingers tight as the sapphire skirts of her gown wrapped around them both.
Marissa had always found the sensation of silk hugging her to a gentleman as they danced to be mildly erotic, though much more so with Haddon than, say, Enderly.
Haddon was a graceful dancer, confident and agile. Turning her expertly, he brought Marissa closer to the lean lines of his body with each twist of his hips. They moved easily together, as if they’d danced many times in each other’s arms.
In truth, they had only danced once before.
The warmth of his palm splayed intimately across the small of her back, fingertips pressing into the skin at the base of her spine.
The pressure was seductive. Enticing. Haddon had kissed that very spot during their night together, as well as a great many other places.
She saw Adelia out of the corner of her eye watching them with a smug look.
“How have you been, Marissa?” The husky growl of her first name sent bits of flame across her arms. “Enjoying London?”
“I’m quite well, thank you. I didn’t realize you’d come to town.” The tips of her breasts chafed against the fabric of his coat, stroking her nipples each time he turned her; it was distracting, to say the least.
A tiny smirk crossed his beautiful mouth. He knew she was lying.
“I don’t come as often as I did before my wife died. My daughters require my attention, as does my estate. London does not.”
Haddon had been married very young in a match arranged by his father. His wife had been sickly and bed-ridden during the latter part of his marriage, the birth of his youngest daughter destroying what remained of her fragile health.
In between bouts of lovemaking, they’d whispered to each other in the dark and Haddon had told Marissa of his marriage.
Another thing she hadn’t done with a previous lover.
Dalliance.
He had left out his former rakish reputation, and well he might. Though discreet, Haddon certainly had cut a swath through the ladies of London. But unlike most husbands who wouldn’t have cared to be saddled with an ill spouse, he’d been with his wife when she died, at her bedside. After, he had not returned to London to pick up the threads of his life; instead, he’d stayed away from town, choosing to remain with his daughters in the country. Another thing most gentlemen would not have done.
“I brought Jordana to London with me.” He mentioned his eldest daughter, to whom Marissa had been introduced to at Brushbriar.
“And how does Jordana like town?” Marissa found it hard to have a casual conversation with Haddon, especially when his hips kept brushing hers.
“As well as can be expected. But I thought she might enjoy some time here before making her debut. Ease her into things, so to speak. Jordana has a tendency to be stubborn.”
Haddon twirled her, the motion forcing her more fully against his chest. The distance between them was only one tiny, heated inch.
“You left before I could tell you goodbye,” he said, breath warm against her temple.
“Did I need to tell you goodbye?” Her own guilt at not doing so made her reply sharper than she intended.
His grip on her tightened. “I suppose not.”
“After the discovery of my late husband’s remains, I was in shock, as you can imagine.” That was putting it mildly.
“I’m sure you were.”
“I wasn’t up to receiving callers, nor did I wish to receive polite condolences,” she said.
“Of course,” he agreed coolly.
Marissa bristled. Something about his calm manner, his instant agreement with her, smacked of judgement. It was clear by his attitude Haddon thought she should have received him. Sent him a note. Told him goodbye. She didn’t care for him acting the discarded lover.
Dalliance.
“Ours was a brief acquaintance, Lord Haddon,” Marissa said politely, allowing a hint of chill to enter her words. “Little more than a dalliance, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.”
He looked down on her, eyes like quicksilver. A touch of pink shone on his magnificent cheekbones, a sign of his annoyance, perhaps, though it could have been a trick of the light. “A dalliance?”
“A tryst, if you prefer.”
“A tryst?”
Would he repeat everything she said? “Our relationship would have invited speculation and unwanted attention, both things I don’t care for. An older widow carrying on with—”
“Dear God, Marissa.” He looked away from her, the corner of his lip lifting into something resembling amusement. “You didn’t seduce some innocent young lad; stop behaving as if you did.”
“I didn’t do any seducing,” she shot back.
“Debatable. I was under the impression we seduced each other, not out of boredom, as I’m sure will be your next point, but because we were meant to.” His broad shoulders gave a soft roll.
Marissa stayed silent, uncertain how to respond.
“You know, I never really considered your elderly status at the time, but you brought it up so often during our brief acquaintance, perhaps your concerns have merit.”
“They do?”
“You’re a highly intelligent woman. Older and wiser than I. Shouldn’t I listen to your council?”
The heat of him bled through the thick silk and layers of petticoats, caressing her skin as they danced. Each time he spun her, Haddon managed to notch the length of one muscled leg into her skirts and between her legs. Deliberately.
“Stop doing that,” she hissed beneath her breath. A slow, honeyed ache followed the movement, driving her mad. “Do you intend to cause a scene?”
“What? This?” He pulled her a fraction of an inch closer and moved his thigh into her skirts again, sliding his leg in a sinuous motion. “I’m merely dancing.”
A flutter of arousal slid down the length of her body at Haddon’s very calculated teasing though Marissa was doing her best to ignore the sensation. Desperate to provide a distraction, she said, “I see you’ve made the acquaintance of Lady Christina Sykes.”
“An incomparable beauty with an impeccable lineage,” Haddon acknowledged. “A gentleman could do worse than to wed her. She’s a lovely girl.”
“She’s very young.” Marissa said, hating the prick of jealousy at the thought of Haddon dancing with Lady Christina the way he danced with her.
“You don’t sound as if you approve. Shouldn’t I seek someone closer to my own age? I’m barely out of the schoolroom, after all.” The mischievous grin, the one she found so endlessly endearing, floated across his mouth.
Marissa forced herself to smile up at him. “I’m sure my approval is of no consequence. I’m only concerned.”
“How very maternal of you, Marissa.”
She deliberately stepped on his toe.
Haddon grunted in pain.
“Lady Christina is barely older than Jordana,” she said. “But it is none of my affair who you deem a suitable bride. If your aim is to find a wife, Christina Sykes would serve as well as any.” She forced the words up her throat though they left a bitter taste.
Spinning her about, he gave her a wolfish grin before murmuring, “The lady doth protest too much.”
Her heel ground into the top of his foot. “Pardon me. I seem to have two left feet this evening. Goodness.”
Haddon’s fingertips dug into the silk at her hip. “I’m only acknowledging the vast difference in our ages. One you’ve brought to my attention repeatedly during our previous dalliance. Are you old enough to be my mother?” He pretended to consider the question. “Good lord, how depraved I am.”
Marissa was going to slap him, right here in the middle of a dance with most of the ton watching. “While there is an age difference, my lord, I assure you—”
“And in regard to Christina,” he interrupted her tirade, “you also suggested during our dalliance that I need to remarry. Truthfully, I hadn’t considered wedding again until you brought it to my attention. Again, I’m thankful for your guidance.”
She bit her lip, knowing she couldn’t refute his claim. Haddon was correct on all counts. She had been the one to bring up his need to remarry and produce a male heir. At that moment, Marissa could have cheerfully kicked herself for reminding him of his duty.
“I’ve something I wish to discuss with you, my lady.”
“Oh?” There was a slight, hopeful leap of her traitorous heart before remembering it would be best if she didn’t allow him to seduce her again. Haddon was far too dangerous. They could remain acquaintances and nothing more.
“May I call upon you? I would prefer not to have a private discussion here.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, ignoring the slight racing of her pulse.
The dance ended, and Haddon led her off the dance floor, a wisp of a smile hovering on his lips. But instead of leaving her where she’d stood with Adelia, Haddon purposefully took her to the opposite side of the ballroom; an area populated with elderly matrons, wallflowers and spinsters.
A strangled sound bubbled from her lips.
“Something wrong, my lady? Didn’t you enjoy our dance?”
“I did. Immensely.” If she wasn’t sure it would cause a scene, Marissa would wrench her fingers from his.
Once he seemed satisfied Marissa stood with the most undesirable women in the room, Haddon bowed again over her hand, hiding his enjoyment at her discomfort behind a polite, bland smile.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lady Cupps-Foster.” Haddon turned and, without another glance at Marissa, sauntered back across the ballroom.
Kathleen Ayers is the bestselling author of steamy Regency and Victorian romance. She’s been a hopeful romantic and romance reader since buying Sweet Savage Love at a garage sale when she was fourteen while her mother was busy looking at antique animal planters. She has a weakness for tortured, witty alpha males who can’t help falling for intelligent, sassy heroines.
A Texas transplant (from Pennsylvania) Kathleen spends most of her summers attempting to grow tomatoes (a wasted effort) and floating in her backyard pool with her two dogs, husband and son. When not writing she likes to visit her “happy place” (Newport, RI.), visit wine bars, make homemade pizza on the grill, and perfect her charcuterie board skills.
Nothing says Merry Christmas like impending divorce. *eye roll*
It would be great to ignore the season altogether until Ethan and I officially end things on December 31st.
But before we can sign the final papers, I need to make it through Christmas week back in my hometown in Grandma’s house with the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.
It’s far from ideal.
Yet, the longer we’re forced to cohabitate, the harder it is to ignore that what drew us together as childhood sweethearts still exists.
Our marriage is on the brink of divorce because we thought we wanted different things, but maybe our Christmas miracle is getting a second chance by finally coming home.
Mika Jolie lives in New Jersey with her Happy Chaos—her husband and their energizer bunnies. She’s a lover of words, wonder, an old-fashioned, and the whimsical delights of everyday living. When she’s not writing swoon-worthy, sexy relatable romance, you can find her on a hiking adventure, beachin’ it at the Jersey shore, apple, blueberry picking, or whatever her three men can conjure up.
She loves to hear from readers. Connect with Mika on BookBub, her reader group Mika Jolie’s Wildflowers, Facebook, Amazon, Instagram, and Goodreads.
Tracy Lorraine is a M/F and M/M contemporary romance author.
Tracy recently-ish turned thirty and lives in a cute Cotswold village in
England with her husband, daughter and lovable but slightly crazy dog. Having
always been a bookaholic with her head stuck in her Kindle Tracy decided to try
her hand at a story idea she dreamt up and hasn’t looked back since.
For decades I have suffered as a reluctant blood donor. Caged like an animal and drained of my strength to enrich the Radcliffs and their winery. I’d forsaken all hope of escape—until the winemaker’s daughter returns to the family’s estate.
A drop of my immortal blood is all it takes to activate her psychic talents. Now we’re connected, and all that remains is convincing her to seek me in the darkness.
Bribe. Seduce. Deceive.Â
To claim she’s too young is an understatement. But a starving man doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for fruit to ripen. I’ve awakened her gifts, and now it’s her turn to replenish me.
I will have my fill of the winemaker’s daughter. Then I will take revenge on her family.
Author’s note:Â Please be aware that this book contains scenes of violence, gore, and rough sexual contact, as well as an age-gap pairing spanning literal centuries. If you find drastically inappropriate older man/younger woman romances squicky, do yourself a favor and skip this book.
I inhale the perfume of lilacs, and watch the horses grazing among the vines. Then I remind myself that it’s October, and there aren’t any horses on the grounds anymore.Â
That’s how I know I’m still dreaming.
I’ve been a lucid dreamer since I was little, capable of controlling my consciousness at whim while asleep. It’s the one Greyson-like talent I’ve been blessed with, and it’s not even that interesting.
A burst of laughter calls my attention to a couple drinking champagne on the patio. I approach them. They ask if I’m wearing that to the party, and it’s not until I notice how they’re dressed—her in a silk blue wrap dress with ruffles, and him in a fedora and striped jacket—and the way their silhouettes dissolve slightly into the air around them, that I realize they aren’t just stand-ins manufactured by my dream engine.
They’re ghosts. My mom tried describing them to me, but it’s one thing to hear about something and another to actually see it with your own eyes.
Ghosts don’t look the way you might expect, all white-sheeted and billowy. Neither do they resemble rotting corpses. They look like shimmery versions of regular people. A little fuzzy around the edges, maybe, but otherwise normal.
The clamor of horn-heavy music playing elsewhere on the estate coaxes me to step barefooted into the grass. I make my way toward the sound. Sure enough, there’s a party in full swing in the grand foyer. I peek through the windows at the crowd of ghosts having a grand old time, drinking, laughing, and dancing.
I stay and watch for a while and listen to the band play, until a man in a waistcoat comes up behind me and asks if I have an invitation. I run into the field, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being chased.
A woman in a white dress watches me from a second-story window. I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I’m pretty sure she’s watching me from the room I’m staying in. She’s too far away to note the details of her face, but her hair is long, dark, and straight, like mine. I blink and she’s gone, and her absence unsettles me and sends me galloping further into the grapevines.
The sky hasn’t changed since I awoke into the dreamscape, giving the vineyard a sense of timelessness. Now that I’m away from the house, I make my way down the rows of vines slowly, skimming my fingers over the leaves.
This place isn’t so bad without Edward and his awful relatives making me feel unwelcome. It would’ve been even nicer to have come here with my mother; I could’ve listened to her tell her own stories.
A crow soars overhead and then drops into a cluster of trees. That’s when I spot the man standing with his back to me among the vines.
“Hello,” I call out, moving a little closer. He turns his blond head slowly, like he’s not sure if he heard me. I call out again, “Hello, sir?”
When our gazes meet, I stop advancing. His eyes are so blue they’re almost turquoise. I’m already lost in them, and I just got here. He studies me curiously, like he’s never seen a girl in a Blind Melon tee shirt before.
“Did you say something to me?” he asks.
“I said hello.”
The man looks around, like he’s making sure I’m not actually talking to someone behind him. He’s a pretty big guy, fit and brawny. Maybe he’s the ghost of a laborer, I think, though his clean shirt and fair skin would suggest he’s not one for toiling in the sun. I’d guess him to be somewhere in his mid-thirties. I wonder how long it’s been since he passed on, then remind myself he isn’t real. This place looks like the vineyard, but it’s not the vineyard. There’s no reason my mind couldn’t dream up ghosts just as easily as it cooks up impatient servers.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask. Mom also told me that ghosts sometimes forget they’re dead, and when they do, it’s best not to remind them. Nine times out of ten, whenever there’s an aggressive haunting, it’s because a ghost is confused, or hasn’t yet come to terms with their situation. This man appears lucid enough, and his silhouette is surprisingly crisp, but I figure it’s better to play it safe.
His lip curls slightly. “I’ve been here much longer than I’d like to be.”
“Oh. That sucks.” I’m not sure how else to respond.
Two rows of vines separate us, but even that distance and a coating of golden scruff aren’t enough to mask the fact that he’s handsome. His face is angular without being pointed, his lips full, yet defined. The longer I look at him, the faster my pulse starts to race. Heat floods my face as I force myself to stop gawking at him like some wannabe groupie.
“I’m just visiting my dad,” I say, hoping he won’t notice the tremor in my voice. The man says nothing. When I allow myself to glance his way again, he’s no longer standing in the same spot.
He’s right beside me.
I stagger back a few steps.
“How did you do that?” A dumb question, considering ghosts don’t have to follow the laws of physics in the real world, let alone the nonexistent rules in my dreams.
I hold my breath as the man reaches out to touch my cheek. Somehow his eyes are even bluer this close up.
“How is this possible?” He strokes the sides of my face.
“Anything’s possible in a dream,” I say. He shakes his head in disbelief, like I’m the ghost in his dreams.
“This is why he wants you,” he says, and I have no idea what that means.
“Who wants me?”
His gaze lifts over my shoulder, in the direction of the house.
“It’s time to wake up, Mariah.”
“Why?” And how does he know my name?
“You have a visitor.” He grasps my shoulders firmly enough to pinch and shakes me.
I’m jolted awake, for real this time.
It takes me a second to recall where I am—in bed, in the guestroom, at Red Cliff—and half a second more to realize that I’m not alone.
AUTHOR BIO
Margot Scott likes long nails and short, sexy reads, rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream, and rainy days spent in bed with her furbabies. When she’s not writing forbidden-love stories about bearded older men, you can find her browsing Pinterest for pictures of pink things.
Who do you trust when betrayal threatens to destroy everything you hold dear?Â
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When Arionna Jacobs fled town in a desperate bid to save Dace Matthews, she never expected the chaos she would leave in her wake. Now her closest friend is dead, and another is missing, forcing Ari to return to face the devastating consequences of her actions and the broken boy she left behind.
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Her problems are only just beginning.
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Even as her bond with Dace grows stronger, Arionna finds herself weakening when Freki’s cage shatters. Fighting the wolf for control is tearing her apart piece by piece. And at every turn, she finds that those she’s put her faith in aren’t who they seem, bringing her face to face with Skoll and Hati. As the depth of their betrayal is revealed, Freki spirals out of control, and Arionna must face her greatest fear: losing herself to the fierce wolf within.
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The world balances on the edge of a blade, and one wrong move will destroy it all.
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With few allies she can trust and little choice left, Arionna must decide between the lives of her friends and her own future with the alpha she loves.
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Will she be able to stand firm for the sake of the world, or will she falter in the face of defeat?
As Vice President of the Untamed Sons MC, my first loyalty is to my club and my president, that is until Lucy walks into my life. For her, I’m willing to give it all up. I’ll stand against my brothers, question my loyalty and even consider giving up my patch. Too bad everything I’m building isn’t real.Â
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LucyÂ
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Nox is falling for me, but he shouldn’t. I have secrets and if he knew the truth he’d drop me in a heartbeat. The problem is I’m falling for him too, but when my past comes out he’s going to hate me. Nothing is as it seems. My whole life is a lie. Everything except Nox.Â
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Because the truth is Lucy Franklin doesn’t really exist.Â
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*Warning : Contains adult content, reading age 18 +. Graphic violence and dark emotional scenes that may trigger some readers.
I jolt back, letting another tear fall as my world comes apart. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was home, like I had family, people who cared. My lies destroyed that. I should have left straight away. I should have carried on running. I shouldn’t have let my guard down around a man as dangerous as Nox.Â
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I did, though.Â
Why?Â
Because I wanted a slice of what Sasha had. I wanted people who cared about me, who would go to the edge of the world for me, who would stand up to my bullies.Â
I was stupid thinking that would happen. Unlike Sasha, I’m not part of their world. I’m here because of her, and that branch they held out to me has now been snapped.Â
“You fucking lied to me,” he growls, striding over to the bed and leaning on it so he can get in my face.Â
I flinch, swallowing down my fear, my sense of injustice. I didn’t want this life.Â
Jessica Ames lives in a small market town in the Midlands, England. She lives with her dog and when she’s not writing, she’s playing with crochet hooks.Â
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