Bound by Deception
He broke her heart. She twisted his mind. But in this game of love, nothing is quite as it seems…
Rebecca’s life is haunted by unexpected tragedies. Her lover left her when she least expected it, and her mother’s suicide took everybody by surprise. But when a recent inheritance reveals a secret, Rebecca discovers her mother’s death was actually a cold-blooded murder…
Dante “Rio” Addario swore off his irresistible ex and her web of lies 12 years ago. But the former Navy SEAL turned police detective can’t ignore Becca’s plea to re-open an old case. As he and his ex team up, they discover missing evidence, tight-lipped detectives, and the conspiracy that tore them apart over a decade ago…
With everything they believed thrown into chaos, Rio and Becca can’t ignore their reawakened desire. But if they don’t solve the case soon, the real killer may just finish the job and their love story…
Bound by Deception is the pulse-pounding third book in the Bound By series of romantic suspense novels. If you like simmering chemistry, chilling mysteries, and second chances, then you’ll love Trish McCallan’s twisty tale.
“Grab the door,” Rio said in a calm voice, his gaze flickering toward her.
“Sure.” Becca grimaced at the faintness of her voice, wishing she sounded as calm and casual as he did. But then he was probably used to being shot at—first as a Navy SEAL, then a police officer and now a detective.
Good God, his career choices practically begged for late afternoon shootouts, followed by cruising speeds of over a hundred miles an hour.
“Becca—” He shot another quick glance at the yawning abyss along her right side.
“I know. I know. The door!” She blew out an aggravated breath.
She anchored herself in place by grabbing the edge of the seat. Without looking down at the endless ribbon of black whistling below her, she leaned outside the cruiser far enough to grab the door handle. The agony pulsing across her shoulder escalated to knife jabs and volcanic lava as she struggled to pull the door toward her. When it finally clicked into place, she groaned in relief and collapsed into her seat.
Sweaty and shaky, she looked down at her right shoulder. Had the door’s impact broken a bone? Was that why it hurt so bad?
Queasy joined sweaty and shaky when she caught sight of the moist, red fabric of her blouse. Fabric that used to be white. Her gaze dropped to her right hand and the crimson beads that dripped steadily to the floor.
A broken shoulder or arm wouldn’t bleed. Would they?
She scanned her left side again. Nothing looked bent, or broken, or out of whack. It just looked bloody. Maybe the edge of the door had sliced her skin…but she didn’t see a rip in the fabric of her blouse.
High on her shoulder, though, just below the fleshy, curve, she found a blood-soaked, frayed hole in the fabric. A bullet sized hole.
Bullet wounds bled like the dickens. She knew that from the movies.
Trish McCallan was born in Eugene, Oregon, and grew up in Washington State, where she began crafting stories at an early age. Her first books were illustrated in crayon, bound with red yarn, and sold for a nickel at her lemonade stand. Trish grew up to earn a bachelor’s degree in English literature with a concentration in creative writing from Western Washington University, taking jobs as a bookkeeper and human- resource specialist before finally quitting her day job to write full time.
Forged in Fire, the first book in her Red Hot SEALs series, came about after a marathon reading session, and a bottle of Nyquil that sparked a vivid dream. She lives today in eastern Washington. An avid animal lover, she currently shares her home with four golden retrievers, a black lab mix and two cats.
Noun. ‘A strong feeling of support or allegiance.’
For some, loyalty can be bought. For others, it’s earned. But the thing about loyalty—it can change in an instant. All it takes is one act, one decision, and loyalty shifts to betrayal in the blink of an eye…a sin which cannot go unpunished.
Not in this world.
But sometimes things happen beyond our control, forcing our allegiances to change. Like the mob enforcer who wants nothing more than to seduce the assassin hired to kill him. Or the FBI agent who falls for the woman whose past holds ties with the mafia.
Yet, no matter the reason or motive, the consequences of betrayal are always deadly.
Because in this world everyone is…
Are you a book reviewer?
That’s all it took for her life spiral out of her carefully crafted control.
That’s all it took for her to fall. Fall into the chasms of her dreams and Unravel.
With life betraying her plans and a future unyielding to her ambitions, Vienna Roy is at the most crucial crossroads of her life. Not wanting to look back and dishearten her already defeated heart, she accepts a challenge and starts afresh.
A new job, a new city and a new lease on life seems perfect, but it’s far from that. It’s a prismatic trap set by fate to lure her back to a time she has unwillingly left behind. Right back to him, the man in her dreams.
He’s a man of many talents. Fearless, Formidable, and charismatic, he blazes through every challenge that comes his way. He is a hard man to beat, and a harder one to forget. But behind the rock solid persona, lays the heart of a man who has been scarred, who has lost a lot in a very little time.
Putting in his all, he’s finally dealt with his past, shoving it in a dark corner of his heart. Forging forward, he forgets, only to find himself face to face with the one person who started it all. Her.
As the ghost of their past ignites its fury of passion, the best laid plans crumble and burn out. The inferno of their yesterday leaves nothing for them to control, ripping their hearts out. Fate makes its play, destiny intervenes and a love they never seized starts to Unravel!
I closed my eyes and prayed, for an anchor, for a distraction, for a way to make it through.
“Why don’t we start with the meeting without wasting more time? I bet you all have things you need to get done.”
My eyes flew open, forgetting everything, wanting nothing more than to look in the direction of his voice. He walked past me toward his chair at the head of the table.
I couldn’t look away, absorbing every detail.
A full head of luxurious brown hair, cut to finesse, swayed gently as he moved, highlighting the natural shades of his hair in the sunlight peeking through the blinds.
He was wearing a white shirt, covered by a dark charcoal suit that accentuated his broad muscular shoulders.
The jacket did nothing to hide the form of his well-sculpted body, making it more prominent, presenting a perfect tease to the spectator.
Recalcitrant eyes travelled lower, following his footsteps, wholly captured by his presence.
A taut derriere flaunted long, lean legs that carried him with utmost confidence and surety to his chair.
I was captivated.
Everything around me became slow, too heightened, and nothing but my heart and his presence, his evasive, invasive presence mattered in this moment.
I observed everything about him, forgetting my entire existence. Such was my obsession with a stranger I didn’t know. I wanted to know him like the emotion that lived within me, that withering throb of emptiness. I wanted him to be the oasis that washed over the Sahara of my battered heart. I wanted to be set free.
And even without reason, from within the deep recesses of my fragile, empty existence, a voice boomed with utmost surety, stating this known stranger to be my demise…and my rebirth.
My eyes locked onto his neck, reveling in his very life force, the beat of his pulse as he adjusted his collar. What I felt for him was so carnal…I craved him, as he reached out to grab the arm of the chair, wanting nothing more than to be ravished by his touch.
I wanted to be the object of his affection.
Aashna K is an up and coming author, who loves writing about love. Ever since she was a teenager, love stories have fueled her imagination, so finally, after over a decade of daydreaming and brainstorming, she took the plunge and grabbed the metaphorical pen and started writing. She enjoys writing stories about first love and second chances, and always gravitates towards characters that are strong, stubborn, and know who they are. Conflict and passion drives her stories and a strong pair of protagonists, makes the book.
Apart from writing she enjoys travelling, cooking and being silly with her husband and rambunctious Brittany spaniel.
I’m a scavenger. So what? With society’s collapse on Earth, I do what I have to for survival. Especially after I’m kidnapped by space pirates. I have no idea why the five most powerful rulers in the universe decide that I’m the Oath Forger, the one foretold to fuse their royal houses together and bring peace. But I’m going to play along. Because, hey, it’s better than probes in uncomfortable places. Now let’s just hope they don’t find out I’m lying.
The complete series:
“My Ava,” Tiam says, dreamily. “Yes, you will be mine tomorrow in Merim.”
“You mean you hope I’ll accept you?”
Maybe part of being an Oath Forger is that I have to pick a husband from among The Five? Easy. I’ll pick whoever is willing to return me home.
I eye Tiam for potential. No harm in feeling him out just a little. “If I asked you a favor, to help me do something, would you?”
“I would give my life for you, my Ava,” he says without blinking.
He opens his mouth to say more, but suddenly the connection is severed, and I’m looking at a blank screen. I know I didn’t hang up on him, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t hang up on me.
The next second, Koah bursts through the door. His eyes are wild; he leaps for me and grabs me by the shoulders, searching my face. “What did he do? Are you all right?”
“Um, we talked?” I roll my eyes. “Chill.”
When I pull back, he lets me go with great reluctance. He asks through gritted teeth, “What did he tell you?”
“He wanted me to transport to his ship.”
Koah is nearly cross-eyed with outrage. He looks as if the top of his head is about to blow off.
“I said no.”
He is breathing heavily. “Thank you, Ava.” Then he calms, gathers himself, and his breathing evens. “What else did you tell him?”
“Not much. We only talked for five minutes.”
He looks as if he wants to grab me and wrap his arms around me, but he holds himself back. After another few seconds, seeing that I am all right, he calms down some more.
Is that a disappointed grunt?
I can’t stop myself from saying, “If you’d like, the next time he calls, I can chat with him while sitting in the middle of the bed, naked.”
Koah looks so poleaxed, I regret teasing him.
“Ava.” His voice is hoarse. “You would take your clothes off for Tiam, but not for me?” He sounds as if his heart is bleeding.
Books. Reading. Writing. Playing with the dog. That’s my life, in a nutshell. I love discovering new authors and new trends. Hello Reverse Harem novels!!!! Where have you been all my life? I love everything sci-fi, paranormal, and fantasy. I eat enough chocolate that at this point, I’m probably made of chocolate. OK, chocolate and coffee.
WHAT’S NEW: I’ve just published OATH FORGER, a soon-to-be bestselling, post-apocalyptic, reverse harem, sci-fi romance serial. Ha! Say that three times fast. J
WHAT ELSE: If you’d rather try a standalone sci-fi romance from me, grab WARLORD. And make sure you don’t sit near anything flammable while reading it. Because it’s HOT. Whatever level of heat you’re thinking right now? Double it. (Not recommended if you don’t have AC, or at least a ceiling fan.) You’ve been warned.
IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR A DRAGON: Check out DRAGON LORD, my dragon-shifter romance. And be prepared to lose your heart to a sexy, grumpy dragon. The best kind!
MY WISH LIST: (In case my fairy grandmother is reading this.)
For the OATH FORGER series to find readers who love these stories as much as I do.
WARRANTY: Your satisfaction is very important to me. If you have a complaint, please write it on a box of 50-piece Assorted Godiva Chocolate Truffles, and mail it to my office. I promise to personally see to all complaints.
Title: A Little Spark
Author: Amy K. McClung
Publisher: Hot Tree Publishing
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 31, 2018
Sparks fly when sassy firefighter Jilli meets her match in Amy K. McClungâs enemies-to-lovers romance.
When Sam and Jillian meet, the snark and sparks start to fly. Despite their intense attraction, words and actions are misunderstood, and miscommunication is rife. Will their stubbornness be their downfall or the start of something extraordinary?
Amy McClung was born in Nashville, TN. She is the second oldest of four girls and occasionally suffers from middle child syndrome. She met the love of her life online in August of 2004, on his birthday of all days, and married him in September 2005. Currently they have no human children only the room full of colorful robots that transform into vehicles and the large headed Pop Funkoâs who represent their favorite characters. Collecting movies, shotglasses, Pop Funkos, and dust bunnies are some of her favorite pastimes. She began writing in September of 2011 and independently published her first YA novel called Cascades of Moonlight, Book one of the Parker Harris Series the following May. Her first book was a means of therapy for her as it enabled her to escape reality for a while during a difficult transition in her life.
Sometimes angels fall.
Maddie doesn’t really owe drug lord, Carlos Castillo, money. So she hadn’t taken his threats seriously. Until now. He wants it, whether she owes it or not. And if she doesn’t have it in six weeks he’s gonna take her as payment instead.
Tyler would save the world if he could. That’s a fight that lasts forever. And if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s fighting. So if Maddie thinks she’s gonna deal with an insane drug lord on her own, she’s crazier than he is.
She’s got a debt she can’t pay. He’s got more money than he needs.
They’re destined to be together. Even if Maddie doesn’t know it yet.
Good thing you don’t get to choose.
“Who the fuck invited you?” I snarl at Tyler. “And how the hell did you even find out where I live?”
“I stopped by Pete’s. Met Pete. Sweet guy, by the way. I would’ve imagined a strip club owner as being kinda—”
“Pete told you where I live?” Jesus. Thanks, Pete. Fuck.
“No, no, not exactly.” Tyler’s standing way too close to me now. The girls are pretending not to be able to hear him, but it’s clear they’re eavesdropping. I hope they’re better at fucking guys for money than they are at spying.
Tyler leans in closer still, and I really, really wish he would not do that. Because I hate him and don’t want him anywhere near me. Or maybe because I can feel the heat of his body and he kinda smells delicious. Which just pisses me off more because I hate him.
He lowers his voice and continues explaining how he found me. “Don’t be mad at Pete. He didn’t want to tell me where you live. Seems like a really ethical guy.”
“Except he did tell you where I live.”
“Well, yeah, but it cost me five grand.” My eyes go wide. “I mean, he’s ethical for, y’know, a guy who runs a strip joint.”
Nope. This is not going down like this. “Get. Out.” I’m pointing at the door now.
“No!” Diane whines. “No, no, no. We’re just getting to know him, Maddie! Oh, my God. This guy. Where the hell have you been hiding him all these months?”
“Where have I been hiding him?” I see red as I go to him, hands out, and slam them into his chest. The force of my push makes him step back… half a step. Maybe. “I wasn’t hiding him anywhere, you traitors! This asshole ducked out on me years ago. And when I needed him, when I was begging him to—” I shake my head to clear my mind. “And then he shows back up and thinks everything’s gonna be fine just because we fucked a couple of times when I didn’t know it was him!”
There’s a beat before Annie says, “You fucked him?” with, like, way more excitement in her voice than she should.
“Not the point!” I shout as I slam my hands into his chest again.
But this time, he grabs my wrist and stops me, saying, “Can we please talk?”
I struggle in his grip, but he holds tight. I clench my teeth and spit, “Let go of me.”
He does. Immediately. Both hands up as if in surrender.
I decide to change my strategy. Because clearly Tyler Morgan is being Tyler Morgan. He attracts people to him like a siren song calling sailors to the rocks. He knows how to play up the act he perfected long ago. Seemingly genuine, charismatic, and fascinating as he leads the rest of us to our destruction.
So I pull the friend card out and whirl around to face Annie, Diane, and Caroline. Taking a deep breath, I say, “He’s not what you think,” in the calmest tone I can muster. My voice is shaky. My hands are trembling with anger. But I hold it together. “He ruined me,” I say. “He broke me into tiny pieces, dropped me to the ground, and walked all over me.”
Annie just stares at me, confused.
“What do you mean?” Diane asks.
“He left me, Diane. After Scotty died. He left me alone. He never came back. He never even showed up for his funeral. I begged him,” I say, starting to cry. “I begged him and he told me to stop. He just went on with his life like nothing happened. Like my brother didn’t just die the most horrific death possible. Like what we all meant to each other was meaningless. So I hope one of those stories he told you about our childhood included that little fact. And then…” I continue, drawing in a deep breath, willing the strength it takes to get this last part in so I can twist that knife in his chest the way he did mine. “And then he went off and made millions of dollars. Been living it up in a goddamned penthouse, no cares at all. No worries at all. While I’ve been back here…”
But I lose it there. I can’t say the words selling myself. Because I’ll die right now if I have to say that. I’ll die.
There’s a filled beat while everyone stares at Tyler, who never breaks eye contact with me. And I really wish he would. Because his eyes are sad and hurt-looking and no fucking way will I fall for that shit. No. Fucking. Way.
Caroline mutters, “He’s a millionaire?”
Two accomplished writers come together to create unforgettable sexy romance. JA Huss is the New York Times bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today bestsellers list eighteen times. Johnathan McClain is a veteran actor and writer whose work, either performed or written, is probably airing on at least one of the channels on your television right now. You can contact them on their website www.hussmcclain.com or find them at their social links below.
Owl Eyes: A Fairy Tale
Nora knows three things: she is a servant, her parents are dead, and she lives in the kitchen house with her adoptive family. But her world is torn apart when she discovers that her birth father has always been right there, living in the house she serves.
This discovery leads Nora to more questions. Why was she thrown in an ash-covered room for asking about her father? Why is a silver-bladed knife the only inheritance from her birth mother? Why is magic forbidden in her household—and throughout the province of the Runes? The answers may not be the ones Nora hoped for, as they threaten a possible romance and her relationship with the adoptive family she loves.
With the announcement of a royal ball, Nora must decide what she is willing to give up in order to claim her stolen birthright, and whether this new life is worth losing her family—and herself.
I shot up from the bed, screaming, and scrambling backwards before falling off the mattress onto the planked wood floor. A boy crouched next to me with his elbows balanced on his knees and his chin resting against his palms. He wore an old, light blue shirt that was much too large for his small frame. A piece of hay stuck up from the mop of brown hair on his head.
“Jack!” Liana called from the kitchen. “Don’t wake Nora.”
“Too late,” the boy called back.
“Who are you?” I pressed my hand to my chest to keep my heart in place. “Why were you watching me sleep?”
“I wasn’t watching you sleep,” the boy said. “Peter and me just got back from the Market, and I got up here and found you on my mattress.”
“Your—” I sputtered. I took a deep breath and tried to inhale the motherwort from the candle. “This is my bed.”
“Well, no one said it was yours, did they? I claimed this bed when I got here, and no one made a peep.” He crossed his arms and looked at the floor. “They were probably too worried if you were okay to care about where I was sleeping. You looked pretty rotten.”
“I was sick,” I said, staking my spot on the mattress again.
“No, I mean you actually looked like you’d rotted. Your skin was all black. Are you sure you’re not a spirit who’s talking to me now?”
I grabbed his arm and pressed my palm to his. “No spirit,” I said. “I’m here.”
He grinned. I shoved him on the floor.
“I’m Jack,” he said as he picked himself up.
“Are you Greta and Peter’s daughter?”
“No.” I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. They were true, but I chewed them like a lie. “I mean yes. Sort of.”
“How are you only ‘sort of’ their daughter?”
“I mean, yes, I’m their daughter. They’re just not my real parents. My real parents are dead. Or gone. Or something. My mother is dead.” I was rambling. I pulled the candle closer to the mattress, hearing Greta’s voice in my ear warning me that the flame could catch the straw on fire. I didn’t care. I lowered my face and breathed in.
“Does your ma’s spirit ever talk to you?” Jack asked.
“What?” I stared at him. “That’s stupid. How old are you that you still think that can happen?”
“I’m thirteen.” Defensiveness crept into his voice. “And I only asked because I can talk to my pa anytime I want to. Or at least I could when we lived in the Vale. His spirit lives in the river there.”
Sir Alcander had hired a crazy person to work in the kitchen house.
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He does so! I’ll show you sometime, and you’ll see.”
I flopped back down on the mattress and rolled over so I was facing away from him, pulling the candle to the other side with me. I could feel Jack watching me.
“Your ma is nice,” I said, still not facing him.
“Thanks. I think so too.” There, finally, was something we agreed on. “I’m going to bed now. You can keep your spot. I didn’t want it anyway.” I peeked over my shoulder. Jack lay down on a new mattress I hadn’t noticed next to the wall.
“Thanks,” I said. In the dim light of the candle, his eyes looked almost gold. I smiled.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I can sleep almost anywhere as long as I’ve got enough space. I don’t like feeling closed up in small places.” The dark room pulsed behind me. “Me neither.”
Now we had two things in common.
Molly Lazer is a former associate editor at Marvel Comics, where she worked on books such as Fantastic Four, Captain America, New Avengers, and cult favorite comic book Spider-Girl. After returning to graduate school to receive a degree in education, she began a career as a high school reading, writing, and drama teacher. She also serves as a professional critiquer for Comics Experience, helping aspiring comic book writers finesse scripts for publication.
In 2016, Molly received a MFA in Creative Writing from Rosemont College. Her short stories have been featured in numerous literary magazines including Gone Lawn, LIT, and Silver Blade. She lives outside Philadelphia with her husband and twin sons. Owl Eyes is her first novel.
Servant of Rage
To kill an heir is to claim their power. But at what cost?
As the khan’s fiercest headhunters, brothers Subei and Bataar are feared across the steppe. When they’re struck by lightning from a freak storm, however, they awake to find unnatural powers growing within them. And what’s more, they’re not alone.
All across the land other “heirs of the ancestors” have been imbued with these powers. Some call it a gift. Others, a curse. The khan calls it opportunity.
Under the tutelage of two infamous women – one a conqueror, the other a monk – the brothers are sent to the lands of the mighty Zhong empire to hunt heirs and consume their power for the good of the khanate.
With each kill, their powers grow. But so too does something else, boiling beneath the surface until it breaks free in uncontrollable fits of violence. As these so called bloodrages grow stronger and last longer, Subei and Bataar must weigh their duty, and their honor, against the unnatural madness growing within.
The other hunters shied from the task, mumbled excuses and accepted easier assignments. Fool’s errands, more like. If ten years of training and two more as a hunter had proved anything, it was that Subei was not one to let an opportunity pass him by.
“Let me get this straight,” Kashi said, shaking his head. “The khan marks murderers, horse thieves, and petty smugglers, but we’re assigned to hunt down the longest serving commander in the entire damned khanate?”
“Assigned?” Subei said with a laugh. “Ancestors above, brother. We weren’t assigned. We volunteered.”
Silence followed. Kashi’s expression, previously one of surprise, descended into a suspicious scowl.
“You volunteered, you mean?”
“Well, as the foremost, I speak for all of us,” Subei said, clapping Kashi and their older brother, Bataar, on the back. “So in the eyes of the khan, we volunteered.”
Subei smiled. There was a significant difference between being ordered to do a thing and volunteering for it. It was the difference between mindless servitude and burning ambition. The difference between being no one and being the khan’s finest hunter.
He held tight to his smile even as anger built in his younger brother’s eyes. Looked a river in the summer rains, swelling until it burst its banks.
“You’re a damned madman.”
“You’re going to get us killed!”
“Probably that, too.”
“Ancestors damn it, Subei! Can we not just have an easy assignment for once?”
“Kashi, little brother.” Subei shook his head. Had he learned nothing after all this time? “Opportunity—”
“Opportunity is missed by most because it comes soaked in blood and looks to be suicide. You’ve said it a hundred damned times.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is the part where we hunt one of the fiercest men the steppe has ever known, and probably end up dead as a result.” He cursed under his breath and began to pace back and forth.
Always had been a bit lacking on the courage side of things, had Kashi. A trait from his parents, perhaps. Subei called him and Bataar brother, though they were not brothers by birth but rather by trade. Hunters, trained together from childhood. Subei didn’t share blood with either of them, but after twelve years and countless hunts together, that counted for very little.
Kashi continued to fume for a minute before he finally turned to Bataar.
“Oh, so you’re smiling too?”
The big man shrugged. “It’d be a fine thing to bring down Commander Jian. Horse thieves and smugglers have gotten a bit, well, boring.”
“Boring? Oh, boring is fine. Boring doesn’t end with a spear in my chest.”
Bataar hefted his wicker-and-iron shield and patted the horseman’s saber at his hip.
“You’re the tracker. You find the bastard, we’ll take care of the rest.”
“And after you take care of ‘the rest’ — or it takes care of you — it’ll be my job to drag what’s left of your bodies back to the khan.”
“Well, you won’t have to drag us far,” Subei said, savoring the best part of the news for just a moment longer. “The commander just left camp yesterday. Hardly has any lead on us at all.” He nodded to the west, through the great tent city that always followed the khan’s camp and out to the wide, windy steppe beyond.
“Oh, wonderful. We can catch up to our deaths that much quicker, then,” Kashi said, shaking his head.
“You worry too much, little brother.” Subei smirked and patted him on the shoulder, but Kashi shrugged the gesture away.
“Someone has to, seeing as neither of you care to bother.”
A.Z. Anthony is best known for his genre-warping fiction whose popularity commonly crashes global markets. Also, his humility. More realistically, he is the author of several award-winning short stories. His debut novel, "Servant of Rage," releases April 3, 2018. He’s also hard at work on an additional standalone novel, the two sequels to "Servant of Rage," and is a contributor at The Fantasy Hive.
You can learn more at Azanthony.com.
Can Dreams Come True?
Cecily has always had a huge crush on singer Andrew Holiday and she wants to be an actress, so she tags along when her friend auditions for his new video. However, the director isn’t looking for an actress, but rather the girl next door—and so is Andrew. Cecily gets a part in the video and all of Andrew’s attention on the set. Her friend begins to see red and Cecily’s boyfriend is seeing green—as in major jealousy. A misunderstanding leaves Cecily and her boyfriend on the outs and Andrew hopes to pick up the pieces as he’s looking for someone more stable in his life than the models he’s dated. Soon Cecily begins to realize Andrew understands her more than her small-town boyfriend—but can her perfect love match really be her favorite rock star?
Are you a book blogger?
I started to feel anxious after lunch. After all, I had been an Andrew fan for a long time, and even though I had seen him in person, this was a huge deal to get to meet him. What if he wasn’t what I had imagined? I didn’t expect him to fawn over me or anything, but what if he was rude or ignored me? It would kill my fantasy of him as being this sweet, quiet, sensitive songwriter who wore his heart on his sleeve while also being kind of a loner/rebel with just a touch of bad boy in him. Oh man, I would be crushed if he didn’t notice me or worse—if he ended up flirting with Harlow.
In all his magazine interviews Andrew always said looks weren’t important to him, and what he noticed in a girl was if she was true to herself. He said he went for “bright girls who were sweet and easy to be with.” Now that I thought about it, that was the kind of fake crap magazines put out about all the teen celebrities. It was like when I saw Lawrence Claibourne, my favorite actor who claimed to be Mr. I’m-just-looking-for-a-sweetgirl-to-read-poetry-to on a red carpet with a model whose boobs were falling out of her dress and had overdone the lip fillers—I mean, you just knew he wasn’t into her for her personality. But Andrew wasn’t like Lawrence. Andrew seemed so sincere and deep. Lawrence had a smirk and you could tell he was a player, but Andrew seemed like he had been hurt and needed to find the right girl who he could open up to and learn to trust again. . .or at least that’s what he said in his last interview.
The final bell rang and my heart shot up to my throat. This was it. I was on my way to meet my crush. From now on, any dreams of him would be marred by the reality I was about to face.
Was it better to keep wondering what if and keep the fantasy alive or to go and actually meet him?
Who knew all those embarrassing, cringe-y moments in middle school and high school could turn into a career? And who would have thought that daydreaming in math class would pay off down the road?
Krysten Lindsay Hager writes about friendship, self-esteem, fitting in, frenemies, crushes, fame, first loves, and values.
She is the author of True Colors, Best Friends…Forever?, Next Door to a Star, Landry in Like, Competing with the Star (The Star Series: Book 2) and Dating the It Guy. True Colors, won the Readers Favorite award for best preteen book and the Dayton Book Expo Bestseller Award for childen/teens. Competing with the Star is a Readers’ Favorite Book Award Finalist. Krysten’s work has been featured in USA Today, The Flint Journal, the Grand Haven Tribune, the Beavercreek Current, the Bellbrook Times, Springfield News-Sun, Grand Blanc View, Dayton Daily News and on Living Dayton. Coming soon: Can Dreams Come True
What would you do if the gateway to ecstasy was literally at your fingertips? Would you lock it up and throw away the key, denying yourself unbelievable carnal desires? Would you stick your toe inside the door, allowing yourself to sample these erotic experiences, but never completely indulging? Or would you barge through the portal to pleasure, leaving all of your inhibitions and dispositions behind in your wake?
This is the dilemma women face when they move into 28 Riverhill Road. Although they can’t explain the unseen sensuality that plagues the house, they also can’t resist its lure.
This collection contains the following erotic stories:
On the Other Side of Lust
Coralee never wanted to be a pastor’s wife…and she certainly never wanted the creepy house her husband inherited from his loyal flock. Yet there she was, alone in a passionless marriage, irritated by the constant demands of the church, and uncomfortable in her own life.
Then he showed up. Coralee wasn’t sure where he came from, but she did know he took her to otherworldly heights of sensuality she could never conjure up even in her wildest fantasies. Was he a ghost? A demon? Or the Devil himself? It didn’t make any difference…as far as Coralee was concerned, he was the very answer to her prayers.
Warning: On the Other Side of Lust (41,900 words) contains closet connections, lascivious lessons, paranormal pleasures, and amorous awakenings.
Through the Doorway of Desire
Although most people believe 28 Riverhill Road is the keeper of not-so-buried secrets they’d just as soon forget, for Clarissa, the old house represents an opportunity for a new life.
That is, until the macabre obsessions set in. When she’s not trying to unearth the mysteries of the house, she’s stoking the flames of a sexual obsession with a notorious serial killer that’s been dominating the news. And when these fixations collide, she’s introduced to a passion unlike anything she’s ever known. Clarissa may be enjoying herself now, but will her ecstasy ultimately lead to agony?
Warning: Through the Doorway of Desire (41,400 words) contains legal lust, seance chicanery, and convertible coitus.
The Entry to Ecstasy
Despite its dubious reputation, Charlotte falls in love with 28 Riverhill Road and believes buying the old house will bring excitement into her life—and help revitalize a relationship that has long gone stale.
And she does find the excitement she’s looking for when the peculiar house introduces her to an alternate life filled with the love and sexual intensity she’s been craving. As she straddles the edge of fantasy and reality, Charlotte eventually finds herself being forced to make an impossible choice.
Warning: The Entry to Ecstasy (25,700 words) contains sensual scents, mysterious missives, and a passionate parallel plane.
From the Author:
On the Other Side of Lust
It seemed that after a while, it became as tired of me teasing it as I had become of it teasing me. I felt movement on Joseph’s side of the bed, and I turned my head to see an indentation in the mattress. That was a first: I had felt it before, but I didn’t see that kind of visual evidence of its existence until that moment. It made my arousal spike to new heights.
Next, my hand was pushed away from my private parts, and a heavy weight rested on top of me. My arms were lifted over my head and felt like they were being pinned down against the bed. My legs were pried open wider and I felt a sharp sensation against my breast that seemed like teeth. I gasped with delight, trying to breathe, but the heavy weight on top of me made it difficult. I just watched in amazement as I felt my nipples being licked and bitten by an imaginary force. It was so real, I saw droplets of liquid forming around my nipples, sparkling in the morning sun.
Then it really happened. I couldn’t make out what was going on, but I felt a large sensation plunging inside my vagina. I was startled at first, then filled with pleasure and desire. I assumed it was my hunky man’s penis because it felt too big to be fingers. But then again, it had been so long since I’d felt anything like that downstairs, it was hard to know for sure.
It started pumping in and out of me. First it was slow and sensual, then it got faster by the moment. The bed shook underneath me. My body shook underneath him. I started to writhe my hips in sync with the motions, but the weight on top of me was too heavy for me to move freely. I felt the palms of my hands slowly being opened and strong fingers interlacing lovingly with mine.
A hot breath warmed up my neck. My body felt like it would explode all over. And then it became more intimate with me.
“Do you like that, Coralee?” I heard it whisper in my ear. I looked around, a little bit alarmed because I never heard it speak before. It had a deep, manly voice that was demanding and yet tender. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I wanted to believe it was real, but on the other hand, I started to go back to thinking this was all just the product of my overactive imagination.
It made sure I didn’t think that way. He made sure that I knew he was real. “You’re not imagining me, Coralee,” it whispered. “I’m real, and I desperately want to make love to you.”
Where does good sex begin?
Between the ears, of course!
That's why I work hard to write erotica that stimulates the largest sex organ we have--the mind--because when we're titillated upstairs, the nether region is sure to follow.
Want to get hot and horny upstairs and downstairs? Check out my erotic stories.
Kiki Wellington. Literary Flesh Peddler. Intelligent Freak.