The Chronicles of Antecede: Lost and Found C.M. Sage
Publication date: July 12th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
Sometimes things are lost for a very long time…and then they are found.
Take Gracie for example, a woman who lost everything, her life, her family, even her name, but now she is a Cathalian warrior of Antecede blessed with powers, which aren’t yet fully realized. Her elder and nemesis, Donavan, finally granted the former professor an opportunity to train a new warrior. Her joy turns to shock when she meets her great, great, great, great grandson, Henry, accompanied by his wisecracking best friend, Milo. Henry recognizes his long dead ancestor right away, and it doesn’t take the Cathalians long to realize that this meeting was no accident.
Gracie and the warriors of Antecede soon discover that they aren’t the only ones laying a claim on their new charges. Menacing enemies from the South and their hired mercenary assassin, Revilan, the Bowman, have also taken an interest. Come along with Gracie, Donavan, and their fellow warriors on a perilous quest to protect all that is good and right from the evil that threatens it, and along the way discover what else was lost.
Lost and Found is the author’s first book in the Chronicles of Antecede fantasy adventure trilogy. CM Sage loves writing, reading, and traveling. Most of all she loves spending time with her beloved family and friends…and yes, that includes her furry friends. Life would have been much less sunny without them.
Entangled With An Elf Prince Amanda Ferreira
Publication date: October 12, 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
There’s a reason monster hunters are rarely human.
Immune to the mists that flood the woods every night, Keenyn is a dark elf prince with exactly one fear — that he’ll stray too far from his demi-god partner, Bren, and lose him to the curse.
After all, Keenyn’s seen what’s beneath that suit of armor. In detail. And if he ignores his best friend’s perfect body, god-like strength, and endless stamina, it’s obvious that Bren is just a man, as likely to die in the mists as any other.
Now, if only Keenyn’s ability to ignore things was foolproof…
ENTANGLED WITH AN ELF PRINCE is a standalone adult M/M fantasy romance perfect for fans of Ariana Nash, C.S. Pacat, Jennifer L. Armentrout, and Madeline Miller. Expect some spicy (18+) sexual situations and gore.
Falling For My Hot Neighbor Rachael Brownell
Publication date: June 9th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
There’s a professional line in the sand. One I refuse to cross. I can’t afford to if I want to keep my secrets safe. To keep my life from falling apart again.
Those boundaries are tested when he moves in across the hall.
My new neighbor might just be the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He’s also my patient’s brother which is why he’s off limits. But with him this close, I find it hard to ignore my attraction to him. To deny the spark between us. To avoid the magnetic pull I feel.
Because Alex is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.
Kind and sweet, with a dirty mind and a touch that lights a fire inside me.
And he loves my son.
Which scares me the most.
It’s not just my heart at risk. The closer Alex gets, the more I fall for him, the more I risk exposing everything I’ve worked so hard to keep hidden.
“How long has it been since you’ve been with a man?”
I whip my head in his direction, my jaw dropping open. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to ask me, but it wasn’t that.
“That long, huh?” he asks when I don’t reply. Heat from embarrassment rushes into my cheeks.
“No,” I lie.
“That doesn’t answer the question, Harley.”
He practically purrs when he says my name, my insides heating up at the sound of his voice. Damn him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s doing it on purpose.
“A while but probably not as long as you think.”
“When is the last time you were on a proper date? The last time you let loose?”
“Longer than it’s been for you I’m sure. My turn. What—”
“How. Long.” His words are pointed as he scoots closer to me, placing his hand on my thigh. My body heats at his touch, my leg burning like it’s on fire.
“Over a year,” I say, attempting to swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat.
“That’s a damn shame is what that is, Harley. Too long. You should take care of yourself more often.”
He’s propositioning me. I can feel it in my bones. He hasn’t said the words, but the implication is there.
Author Bio:
Rachael Brownell is an Amazon bestselling author of contemporary, New Adult, and YA romance.
She lives in Michigan with her husband, son, snuggly dog, and hateful cat. She moonlights as a bartender a few days a week (her excuse to get out of the house and socialize) and writes full time. She published her first novel in 2013 and since she’s released more than 30 additional titles.
Rachael writes all kinds of romance – dark, sexy, sweet. She started her career writing young-adult romance and as she matured, so did her characters and her writing. These days, Rachael writes steamy, new adult romance. Her favorite tropes to write are small-town and friends to lovers.
When she’s not hiding in her office, writing her next novel, you can find her hanging out with her family, watching her son play baseball, or running on the treadmill at the gym (though she skips more days than she goes).
“My Big Fat Greek Wedding” but make it Latinx when a Puerto Rican chef and an Irish American whiskey distiller are blackmailed into a fake relationship by their scheming octogenarian grandfathers.
Ain’t nobody got time for octogenarian blackmail, especially Kamilah Vega. Convincing her parents to update the family’s Puerto Rican restaurant and enter it into The Fall Foodie Tour is quite enough on her plate, muchas gracias. And with the gentrification of their Chicago neighborhood, the tour looks like the only way to save the place. Too bad her abuelo made himself very clear; if she wants to change anything in his restaurant, she must marry the one man she can’t stand: his best friend’s grandson.
Liam Kane spent a decade working his ass off to turn his family’s distillery into a contender. Now he and his grandfather are on the verge of winning a national competition. Then Granda hits him with a one-two punch: he has cancer and has his heart set on seeing Liam married before it’s too late. And his Granda knows just the girl… yup, you guessed it, Kamilah Vega.
If they refuse, their grandfathers will sell the building that houses their businesses, ruining all their well-laid plans. With their legacies and futures on the line, Kamilah and Liam plan to outfox the devious duo, faking an engagement until they both get what they want. But the more time they spend together, the more they realize how much there is to love. Soon, they find themselves tangled up in more than either of them bargained for.
Kamilah Vega stomped up the short entryway and yanked the heavy glass door open with more force than necessary. A strong wind, the type only ever experienced in Chicago, grabbed a hold of the door and pushed it back so roughly that it made a loud bang. The front-desk secretary jumped and gave her a dirty look, but Kamilah barely noticed. Her attention went immediately to the two bodies slumped in the love seat outside the director’s office.
She tried her best to keep the anger out of her voice because she already knew how the two troublemakers in front of her would react to it. “What did you do now?”
That garnered an immediate and very predictable response of “Nothing” from both occupants. It was a lie, of course. It always was whenever these two started claiming innocence in unison.
Kamilah rubbed both hands over her face and let out the type of deep and weary sigh that someone should let out at midnight after a hard and long day—not at eight thirty in the morning. She dropped her hands. “Don’t you think it’s time to stop with the shenanigans? You’re eighty years old, Abuelo.”
Her grandfather gasped in outrage at the mention of his age and scowled at her. His salt-and-pepper hair was sticking up all over the place like a fuzzy baby monkey, making him look adorable despite the baleful glare.
Looking decidedly more put together, even in his tattered denim overalls and faded flannel, Abuelo’s roommate and best friend gave her his own version of the stink eye. “You’re only as old as you feel,” Killian replied in his deep Irish brogue.
“And that means what? That you two feel twelve?”
Before they could answer, the door to the office opened, and there stood Maria Lopez-Hermann, the director of Casa del Sol Senior Living. “Hello, Kamilah. I’m glad you were able to come on such short notice. I know you were probably in the middle of morning prep at the restaurant.”
Kamilah didn’t bother telling Maria that after closing the night before, she’d slept through her many alarms and was late to work. Now, thanks to the two hooligans next to her, she was going to be very, very late. Her employers wouldn’t care about her excuses. It didn’t matter that they were her parents. Kamilah was a Vega and an employee, so her main responsibility was to the family restaurant. Always.
Maria motioned for them to enter her office, and they filed in. Kamilah purposely let Abuelo and Killian sit in the two chairs in front of Maria’s desk, while she stood behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. It was the same stance her mami had taken the time she and her cousin Lucy had got in trouble for skipping gym class for two weeks.
Abuelo crossed one leg over the other and tucked his hands under his armpits, while Killian leaned back, spread his legs wide, and let his arms hang over the short back of the barrel chair. Kamilah once again marveled at their ability to look summarily unconcerned while she was sweating bullets, and she hadn’t even done anything.
Maria took a seat behind her desk and interlocked her fingers, resting them on top of her desktop calendar. “I thought I had made myself clear after the bird incident that being banned from pet therapy would be the least of your worries if there were any more pranks pulled.”
Kamilah closed her eyes and shook her head. It was a variation on what she’d said right before giving the Devious Duo a monthlong suspension from bingo for starting an illicit gambling ring; before that, there was a security-enforced curfew after the strip-poker fiasco. “What did they do now?” she asked, well aware that it was the third or fourth time she’d asked the question that morning and had yet to get a response.
“This morning we had two residents with high blood pressure show alarmingly high readings after breakfast. We did some investigating and found that Mr. Kane and Mr. Vega had snuck into the cafeteria last night and replaced the decaffeinated coffee grounds with fully caffeinated espresso.”
“Abuelo!” Kamilah exclaimed.
“They don’t have any proof it was us,” Killian interjected. “They just want to blame us for everything that happens in this godforsaken prison.”
“Prison,” Kamilah scoffed. “You two have more freedom than anyone else in here.” It was true. Because of their relatively good physical health and stable mental health, Abuelo and Killian didn’t require as much care as many of the other residents. It was more as if Casa del Sol were their college dorm rather than their senior-care facility. It didn’t help that the two tended to view the senior-living center’s strict rules as friendly suggestions.
“Your feelings aside,” Maria continued, “we do have proof. The cameras that we installed in the cafeteria and kitchen caught very clear images of you both.”
Abuelo softly damned the cameras. “Condenados cámaras.”
But Killian had other concerns. “You hear that, Papo? Freedom,” he harrumphed.
“They won’t even let me drink café con leche,” Abuelo added. “They give me light brown poop water and call it coffee.”
“It’s decaf with a splash of coconut milk, and your doctor says it’s better for your heart,” Kamilah pointed out. Abuelo’s doctor also said his congestive heart failure was very treatable as long as he took his meds, stuck to a heart-healthy diet, and remained relatively active. Of course, Abuelo paid him no attention.
As if on cue, Abuelo made a noise of disdain. “Ese doctor no sabe na’. Cuando me duele el pecho, me pongo un poco de Vaporú y ya.”
Kamilah sucked her teeth more at the claim that his doctor knew nothing than at the miraculous healing quality of Vicks VapoRub. All Latinx people knew Vaporú was the cure for everything from a common cold to heartbreak.
Abuelo looked at the director of the complex with petulance. “And when are you going to start serving carne frita con mofongo?” Abuelo continued, because apparently he was on a roll. “I’m sick of eating all these steamed vegetables like a damn rabbit.”
Maria leaned forward. “Mr. Vega, if you are so unhappy with Casa del Sol, you are welcome to find another living facility to reside in.”
Kamilah jumped in before her hardheaded grandfather could ruin the best thing he had going for him. “Maria, could I talk to these two alone for a few minutes before you lower the hammer?”
Used to their antics, Maria nodded her head and left the office.
Kamilah sank to her haunches between their chairs and waited until both men looked at her. “You guys have to stop this,” she said in her voice of reason tone. She placed a hand on each of theirs. “I don’t have time for you to be staging weekly high jinks like you’re the Little Rascals. I can’t be here all the time making sure that you don’t get kicked out.”
Abuelo turned his face away. “Nobody told you to come act like our mother.”
Killian nodded. “We are grown men.”
“Bullshite,” a deep voice sneered from too damn close, startling Kamilah right as she felt a presence looming over her.
A girl who grew up on the West Side of Chicago and with four tormenting older brothers knew to strike first and ask questions later.
“Not today,” Kamilah declared in her You-Messed-Withthe-Wrong-Bitch voice, spinning around in her crouched position, morphing into famous Chicago heavyweight champion Ernie Terrell, and swinging her fist at her would-be attacker’s crotch.
The moment her fist connected with the very sensitive part of the man’s anatomy and she heard his pained “Son of a bitch,” she knew she’d made a grave mistake.
Oh dear God, no. Not him. Please don’t let him be here.
Meanwhile, Tweedledum and Tweedledee laughed their asses off like a pair of demented hyenas.
When he fell to his knees, Kamilah suddenly found herself face-to-face with the exact man she’d just prayed wasn’t there.
Big, broad, and brooding, Killian’s grandson didn’t resemble him in the least. Where Killian had a round face and wide nose with a bit of a hook at the end, Liam looked like something conjured out of the tie me up and spank me books her sister-in-law was always reading. His face was all sharp angles, set off by dark stubble, a stern mouth, and cool eyes.
“What is wrong with you?” He wheezed. “You can’t just go around dick-punching people.”
The hyenas laughed harder.
Kamilah’s jaw dropped. “What’s wrong with me?” she asked, incredulous. “What’s wrong with you, coming up on me like that? You don’t sneak up on a woman and expect not to get junk-punched. Especially not a woman born and raised in Humboldt Park.”
His French-blue eyes narrowed under dark brows. His nostrils flared while he inhaled deeply. That was Liam speak for I’d really like to tell you off right now, but not going to engage.
Kamilah saw that look often. Whatever. He pissed her off too.
“She has a point, lad,” Killian said, the amusement still thick in his voice. “You deserved that whack to the wanker.” He stood and pulled his grandson to his feet.
Kamilah found herself once again eye level with Liam’s crotch. She quickly stood and turned away from him, her face flushing with embarrassment. She met Abuelo’s gaze.
He arched his brows. “Nena, aren’t you going to apologize to him?”
“Me? Apologize to him?” Kamilah let out an incredulous bark of laughter. “He should apologize for sneaking in here and scaring me.”
“He didn’t sneak. The door was open.”
Kamilah didn’t answer. She should own up to her part and apologize, but her pride wouldn’t let her. Pride was the only thing protecting her from Liam. She couldn’t let it go now.
Liam stared, expressionless. Then he ignored her comment completely. “Granda, what did you do now?”
Kamilah hated when he ignored her.
Killian opened his mouth, but Liam cut him off. “And don’t say nothing, because I know you better than that.”
Before Killian could come up with a story, Maria walked back into the office. “They threw away all of the decaf coffee and replaced it with Café Bustelo espresso.”
“What the hell, Granda? You are willing to get kicked out of this place over coffee? Seriously?”
“It’s not the coffee. It’s the principle,” Killian replied, his nose in the air.
Liam threw up his hands and let out a sound of exasperation. “What principle? That the people you pay to take care of you actually take care of you?”
Killian crossed his arms. “You don’t get it because you’re young.”
“I don’t get it because it’s nonsense. Granda, where do you plan to go if you get kicked out? You sold your house to move in here with Papo.”
At the mention of the house he once shared with the love of his life, Killian’s face fell. That had been his wife’s dream house, and Kamilah had always suspected that he hadn’t really been ready to sell it.
“If you get thrown out, you can’t live with me, Granda.”
That was too much. Kamilah certainly wasn’t in agreement with their troublemaking, but Liam didn’t have the right to speak to his grandfather that way. Not after all Killian had done for him. “Because God forbid Super Loner Liam has to allow someone into his hermit cave.”
He turned on her. “Excuse me?”
“I’m saying that if they did get asked to leave, which we don’t know is going to happen, it wouldn’t kill you to let your grandpa move in with you. That’s what family does.”
“I was referring to the fact that he can’t walk that many stairs anymore, but I guess, as the almost thirty-year-old woman living with her parents, I should take your word on that other stuff.”
Kamilah scowled. He didn’t have to bring up her living situation like that. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? It’s like it’s not a big deal for us, because I’m not a miserable person who is extremely difficult to be around.”
Liam scowled at her. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like, off making someone else’s day shitty?”
Rude. Her pulse sped up. “I usually would, but since I already started with you, I can check it off my to-do list and it’s not even ten o’clock. Thanks a bunch.” She added a sweet smile.
“Glad to be of service.”
“Would you two just get a room already?” Killian said. Liam turned his dark look on his grandfather, and she made a disgusted noise.
“What?” Killian shrugged. “All I’m saying is you two fight like a couple.”
“Yeah.” Abuelo added his two cents. “You should just get married already.”
There was a beat of silence, and then both octogenarians’ eyes lit with the same mischievousness. The kind that had no doubt led to all of them being in their current situation.
You know what? Let’s get back to the reason we are here.” She faced Maria. “They may not look it, but I know Abuelo and Killian are sorry for the danger they put their fellow residents in, and next time they will think more about the consequences before they do something so incredibly stupid.”
Maria let loose a world-weary sigh, much like the one Kamilah had released earlier. She gave a small eye roll while shaking her head because they both knew Kamilah was full of shit. “Their cafeteria privileges have been revoked for the next two weeks. Prepackaged paper-bag meals will be sent to their apartment, or their families will have to provide their meals for them.”
“Is that supposed to be a punishment?” Abuelo asked.
“With the stuff they serve here, it feels more like a rew—”
Kamilah covered his mouth with her hand. “That seems totally fair.” In her head she was freaking out because she just knew she was going to be the one providing said meals, and she did not have the time for all that. “I’ll make sure they get fed.” She felt Abuelo’s mouth curve behind her hand, and she saw Killian’s pleased smile. “Don’t get too happy,” she warned. “You think they denied you? Just wait to see what I have in store. When I’m done with you, you are going to wish you could eat rabbit food.”
They were completely unfazed by her threats. Probably because they knew Kamilah was a crème brûlée—right below a crackly hard surface, she was really just pudding.
Echoing her thoughts, Liam scoffed. “As if you aren’t going to end up making them three-course meals complete with dessert.”
Kamilah fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him like a six-year-old. Instead, she ignored him. “I have to go to work, but for the love of God, please behave yourselves today,” she begged the duo of deviants.
She was almost positive she heard Killian mumble, “We make no promises.”
Natalie Caña writes contemporary romances that allow her to incorporate her witty sense of humor and her love for her culture (Puertominican whoop whoop!) for heroines and heroes like her. A PROPOSAL THEY CAN’T REFUSE is her debut novel.
The Island of Summer Sunsets Susan Sands
Publication date: June 8th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Sail away with this heartwarming beach read about hope, family, and finding out who was meant for us.
Among the dunes and salty spray, off the South Carolina coast, where the daily tide swells and the minnow counts are the only news in town, something big might just change Janie Brooks’s life forever, for better or worse.
In the small southern village of Fripp, Janie’s life is moving along at about the same slow pace as the island—exactly the way she wants it. After the death of Janie’s husband, unable to find her own way, she spends her days with the seagulls and swallow-tailed kites, in the serene bliss of the Atlantic coast.
Until newcomer Ryan Kennedy and his teenage daughter move into the rental down the street, shaking up Janie’s well-ordered, simple life. Ryan has enough to deal with, being a single dad. All he wants is to move into a brand-new house in this quaint community and start fresh. But, with Janie down the street, that might be easier said than done.
Will Janie and Ryan find their own version of paradise? Or will one get in the way of the other?
A summer escape that will whisk you away to an island getaway and have you wishing for a seaside retreat with your feet in the sand and the golden sunset at your back. The Island of Summer Sunsets is perfect for fans of Robyn Carr, Brenda Novak, and RaeAnne Thayne.
“Hey there, Janie-girl,” Joe Murphy called from atop the wood decking that wrapped around the old marina’s general store.
His gruff voice pulled Janie Brooks’ attention his way as she walked up. She waved, the salty air blowing between them.
“What can I get for you this morning?” he asked, wiping his large hands on a rag as a seagull squawked overhead in search of its morning meal.
Joe, owner of the general store at the end of Fripp Island’s seaside marina, towered over her. At five-foot-nothing, being towered over wasn’t unusual for Janie, but Joe was a giant of a man, with a steely-gray, grizzled beard that matched what was left of his hair. He reminded her of an ocean-facing house that had stood up to the salty sea air and endured the test of time. He was… weathered.
“Hey, Joe. I need a couple of bags of ice, some minnows, and Momma’s newspaper. How are the shiners today?” Janie asked, peering into the murky vat of bait minnows that lined the old clapboard wall of the building, trying to determine how active they were. Their smell was oddly comforting. It reminded her of going there as a little girl with Momma and Daddy. And then, with her late husband, Daniel. She loved visiting the marina before anybody else was up and around.
Something about the familiarity kept her thoughts on the day-to-day, not allowing her mind to move into memories that were still too painful to relive. The music of sameness filled her: the gulls, the glorious sunrise, and the smells of the island. Anything else put her into new territory, and Janie wasn’t ready for anything new. Even after two years.
“Just got ’em in yesterday. Should do you for a couple of days.”
Janie pointed toward the vat. “Momma wants two dozen, please.”
She noticed then that something was different about Joe that day; his manner was a little more distracted than usual. He’d looked over her head toward the entrance to the marina a couple of times already.
Joe pulled out the net, scooping up approximately twenty-four, then throwing in several more for good measure. Then he filled a plastic bag with water, dumped in the tiny silvery fish, and used a tube to inject oxygen from the tank before tying off the top with a rubber band. That would keep them alive until Janie got home and put them in the minnow bucket. He handed the bag over to her.
She looked up, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the morning daylight with her hand. It was early, but the sun was making a spectacular appearance over the water. The blaze of orange contrasted against the layers of cool blue in the sky just above. Below, the darker surf was almost glassy in its stillness, as it often was this early.
“Your momma fishing off the dock today, or y’all going out in the boat?” Joe asked.
“We’re going out tomorrow to hunt for driftwood on Pritchards Island’s beach. We’ve got some special orders for candle holders that could use a few more pieces.” Janie referred to her “sea treasures” business that she and Momma ran together. “She’s planning to do some fishing while we’re at it. Might throw a line in on the dock this afternoon.”
There was a limited window for maritime travel between tiny Pritchards Island and Fripp Island. Both were nestled among the string of more than one hundred islands from South Carolina down to Georgia, and if it weren’t for the stretch of ocean separating the two barrier islands, it would only be a half-mile walk between them. High tide happened twice a day, but the exact timing changed daily by roughly an hour. Tides were the gods of everything here, pulling the water from the canals that snaked through the marshes, so getting across by boat had to be carefully timed.
Joe’s gaze followed Janie’s. “Gonna be a good day for it tomorrow.”
They stood silently for a moment, looking upward at the sky, which had now transformed into a full-blown daytime blue.
“A perfect day, according to the forecast.”
Most days on Fripp Island were perfect days as far as Janie was concerned. But this day seemed to sparkle. Truth was, they lived in paradise on this tiny slice of an island many people west of Georgia and north of the Carolinas had never even heard of.
Fripp was quiet this early in spring since the lucky tourists who knew about the island invaded during the warmer months. The late March weather was warm but breezy, with a few puffy white clouds floating by. Being surrounded by nature’s beauty on a protected bird and wildlife sanctuary was all Janie wanted.
Janie carried over the bag of minnows and set them on the floor of her golf cart.
“I’ve got some of that sweet cornbread mix from the mill your momma always asks for.” Joe peered up the stairs toward the entrance of the general store.
Janie was extremely fond of Joe. He ordered specific things he knew his customers liked. “Then I’d better grab the mix too while I’m here.”
Janie started to follow Joe when someone caught her eye, causing her to turn instinctively. A tall, sandy-haired man had just parked a four-seater golf cart on the crushed shell lot and was walking over.
“Hey, Joe,” she muttered, just loud enough to get his attention.
“Yup?” He raised grizzled brows.
“Who’s that?” She nodded as furtively as possible toward the newcomer.
He was tall, dark-haired, lean, and moved with a grace that caught her eye. It was apparent the man wasn’t a regular resident because she’d never seen him before. Not only was he unfamiliar, but, dressed in faded jeans and a worn blue T-shirt, he was clearly a misplaced underwear/sunglasses model who’d washed up on their island out of season.
Joe lowered his polarized glasses and glanced over, his sun-damaged blue eyes having a look. “Hmm. Looks like he’s here earlier than expected.”
“Who?” she hissed, wanting to know before the guy got to them. It would be nice to have a clue what was happening around here.
Joe eyed her for a long second. “That’s my nephew, Ryan. Got some interest in our new resident, do you, Janie-girl?” Joe winked at her, grinning as she flushed a dark, beet red.
Janie knew she was doing this because it was the curse of being a redhead. And one with freckles, too. Her skin told the world her deepest thoughts. Like a flashing billboard.
Janie’s curiosity competed with her awkwardness over Joe’s nephew’s unexpected appearance. So she ignored his taunt.
“Resident? How did I not know about someone new moving in?”
Joe had mentioned his nephew a few times in the past, but they’d never met. And she would have remembered him.
“It happened pretty quickly. Must’ve slipped my mind the last time you were here.”
Judging by his smirk, she knew Joe had misinterpreted her reaction as interest instead of mortification. After last year, when Joe had tried to set her up and it had failed miserably, he, of all people, should have understood where she was coming from.
The nephew came closer. Joe raised a hand in greeting toward the man as he neared them. Janie eyed her golf cart and wondered if she could make it there fast enough to avoid saying hello, but then she realized how silly that was.
Joe let out a low rumble of laughter. “Come and say hello.”
Janie Brooks was no coward. Never that. And Joe was like family, so she had little choice.
“Fine. He’s your family, after all.” There. That would stop any ideas Joe had about possible interest in his nephew.
“C’mon then.” He grasped her shoulders gently and maneuvered her forward as if she were a child, causing Janie’s face to flame up like a flare gun, something that didn’t happen often but had happened twice in the last five minutes. But then again, in Fripp, she was rarely caught off guard…
Author Bio:
Susan Sands grew up in a real life Southern Footloose town in Northwest Louisiana, complete with her senior class hosting the first ever prom in the history of their tiny public school with half the town chaperoning. Is it any wonder she writes Southern small town stories full of porch swings, fun and romance?
Susan lives in Roswell, Georgia with her husband, Doug, their Labradoodle, Watson, and lots of material for her next book. Her three adult children are in various stages of finishing college and getting off the payroll.
Change for Lakewood Med T.J. Amberson
(The Lakewood Series, #4)
Publication date: May 31st 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
SOMETIMES LOVE HAS BEEN THERE ALL ALONG…
Elly Vincent, second-year emergency medicine resident at Lakewood Medical Center, swore off romance years ago. Her only problem: her best friend and the man she has secretly been in love with since high school, Grant Reed, just happens to be in her residency program. When Elly and Grant are assigned to spend a month together on an EMS rotation, Elly knows working closely with Grant will reignite all the feelings she has tried for years to ignore. Things at the fire station heat up even more when a dashingly handsome paramedic makes his interest in Elly clear. Suddenly, Elly finds herself torn between her love for Grant and the possibility of a relationship with someone new, and Elly knows that before the rotation concludes, she must not only decide if she wants to pursue an EMS fellowship, she must also sort out the true feelings of her heart.
Grant shifts his gaze back to me, and as our eyes meet, I become extremely aware of how closely Grant and I have been sitting to one another while we’ve been filming. Every ounce of me is drawn to him, yet in what has become a well-practiced move over the years, I make myself lean back to put more space between us.
Grant blinks a time or two, and then he pushes away from the table. Getting to his feet, he twists his torso to stretch. “Anyway, it’s a good thing you’re such a natural teacher when it comes to medical topics, El. You’re great with this type of thing. The video would bomb if I was the only one doing the teaching.”
I’m about to disagree with him when Grant’s shirt rises slightly while he continues stretching, giving me an unexpected glimpse of his abs. His profoundly well-defined, chiseled abs. I gulp. My eyes get wide as I stare, and my respirations get kind of shallow.
Holy smokes.
I knew Grant was extremely fit, but . . .
Holy, holy smokes.
I look the other way, resisting the urge to fan air past my face.
Author Bio:
TJ Amberson hails from the Pacific Northwest, where she lives with her husband and nutty cocker spaniel. When she’s not writing, TJ might be found pretending to know how to garden, riding her bike, playing the piano, enjoying a hot chocolate, or scouring the Internet for cheap plane tickets. She adores all things cozy, seasonal, and holiday-themed; she cheers for happily-ever-afters; and she believes there’s no such thing as too much seasonal decor. With a love of multiple genres, TJ writes sweet romance and romantic comedies for adults and advanced teen readers, and clean fantasy adventures for teen and advanced tween readers.
Pink Guitars and Falling Stars Leslie O’Sullivan
(Rockin’ Fairy Tales, #1)
Published by: City Owl Press
Publication date: January 6th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
Zeli’s signature pop diva sound and image are nothing short of magical—literally. Her fame comes with hidden costs, a curse that could ruin her voice forever.
Aspiring indie musician, Justin MacKenzie, is determined to kick it to the top of the Rampion Records’ Summer Number One professional vs. amateur singing competition.
The favorite to beat in the annual televised contest is none other than the label’s smoking hot superstar, Zeli, whose crazy extensions flow the length of a football field. Those ridiculous extensions, coupled with her bubblegum brand of pop, are an affront to everything Justin loves about music until a stolen kiss blazes into a romantic encounter.
Once inside Zeli’s world, Justin discovers things are not as they seem. In their quest to allow the real Zeli, to step into the spotlight, the pair must confront the mysterious force behind the dazzle of Rampion’s success. If these star-crossed lovers can’t rally their own magic to defeat the darkness, they will lose everything—including each other.
On the way to wardrobe, to prep for his B.A.S.E. jumping exhibition in Zeli’s platinum record celebration concert, Justin Time stumbles into the pop diva’s dressing room by mistake…
Shades of pink twilight swallow us. Zeli rests lips against the rim of her cup, drowning a sob with tea.
Man, that tea smells sweet. I’d like to tickle my vocal cords with it. What did Grant Gothel call it? Ramp-up tea? Justin wants to ramp up. I stand and take a greedy sniff.
Zeli catches sight of me and leaps to her feet. She screeches like I’m slinging an axe.
I trip over the bottom of the costume rack and fly forward, finding balance a hot second before I plow into her. “Whoa, sweetness. I’m not here to mess with you.”
She clutches her head. “Hair thief!” She raises a pair of fists with intent to cause damage. “Closer and I’ll make your ribs crack.”
“Stop screaming or that cute face will go blue.”
Zeli circles her fists, searching for an in to deck me. “Don’t lay a finger on my extensions.”
“I want no part of that crazy hair mess.” I shake my head. “Keep your freak show, I’ve got no intention–” Taking a step back, I fan an arm down her body. “To finger even a single sweet tress.”
She’s delusional. No thief could bust Rampion security to get up here. Then again, when you’ve got millions glued to your head, imagining creepers in the dark is not so out there.
She zips behind the table, snarling. “You won’t get a piece of this either, fool.”
Hugging her body, she curls into a ball worthy of an armadillo. I’m not stupid enough to take advantage of our alone time, but that doesn’t prevent a Zeli lip lock from ticking onto my mental playlist. Her face pops out of the Z-ball as if she’s plugged into my thoughts.
She raises her hands. “Hands here. Raise them up high where I can see.”
I brush bangs aside, the portrait of casual. “You’re safe, damsel, get a hold of your cool.” I jerk my chin her way. “Cut the innocent act. It’s clear to me. No way a fast track, rock chick hasn’t known–” I throw her an air kiss. “Tune-piping Romeo love of her own.”
She stretches to her full height, not enough to hit the five-foot mark, and plants hands on hips. “Jacklick.”
After flashing my best stink-eye, I head for the hallway before her insults bait me into action I’ll regret. The smack of her hand against the table makes me jump.
“You’re leaving?”
I flick my wrist. “You ain’t nothing but a wrong turn.” I almost clear the doorway of the twilight room when she giggles. I whip around. “What? I’m not the big bad wolf anymore?”
She abandons her table fortress and rakes a finger up and down my wingsuit. The silver bag glides after her. “Big bads don’t wear bananas.”
I cringe.
Realization dawns in her eyes. “Oh, you’re one of my lucky stars.” She claps.
“What?”
“Seven lucky stars, falling from the sky for my concert?”
“Maybe.”
“If not, you’re rocking a wack look.” Zeli smiles, easy with me now that she’s defined my place in her kingdom.
Don’t count me out. I can rock a threat, babe. I’m tempted to grab her and plant a kiss on that laughing mouth. I feel my face flush Zeli pink. Stealing a taste of Z-lip is not worth summoning Gothel and screwing my chances at the Summer Number One audition.
To my surprise, she strolls over and dances a finger across my shoulder. “What’s it like to B.A.S.E. jump? Terrifying or Heaven?”
The touch renders me momentarily mute.
Her fingers pop off my shoulder like I’m a hot stove. “I don’t want anyone jumping for me to be afraid.”
The slightest sensation lingers from our contact. Does rock chick Zeli honestly care how Justin MacKenzie feels flying off her tower? Is this chick nice? For reals, nice? Heavenly tea breath wafts from her lips. An urge for a softer kind of kissing sneaks up on me. Kisses that whisper, not shout.
I match her finger dance and dab a touch on her shoulder close enough to feel the warm skin of her neck. “Nice of you to care.” If I slide my hand around the back of her neck, pull her in…
Author Bio:
Leslie O’Sullivan is the author of Rockin’ Fairy Tales, an adult romance series of Shakespeare/fairy tale mash ups set against the backdrop of Hollywood’s music scene. Coming soon is her Behind the Scenes contemporary romance series that peeks into the off-camera secrets of a wildly popular television drama. She’s a UCLA Bruin with a BA and MFA from their Department of Theater where she also taught for years on the design faculty. Her tenure in the world of television was as the assistant art director on “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show.” Leslie loves to indulge her fangirl side each year at San Diego Comic Con.
Born in Blood Emma R. Dean
(Syndicate of Blood and Chaos, #1)
Publication date: June 3rd 2022
Genres: Adult, Mafia, Reverse Harem, Romance
All they had to do was accept her deal and Shadow would give them everything they could ever want.
Despite being born a mafia prince, Damien Chaos lacked the one thing he desperately wanted.
Absolute power and control.
If he wanted that, Shadow was the answer.
The only problem was the Shadow Empire is a kingdom of the intangible and they owe their allegiance to no one.
Kidnapping their lead scientist was the only answer.
If Damien could possess her, if he could resist his desire – if he could just ignore how badly he wanted to carve a symphony of obsession into her skin – he’d finally get the answers he’s been searching for.
They may call him cruel and psychotic. Manipulative and ruthless.
But they have no idea exactly how far he’ll go to win his kingdom, because Damien Chaos can play this game better than anyone else.
That is, until he met her.
All power comes with a cost.
And that price is their pain and sacrifice.
The pretty mafia prince and his boys may think they have what it takes, but they could never break her.
Desdemona is a ghost – a shadow, and the mafia could never get their hands on her.
But Damien, Aeron, and Kaito were too beautiful to deny. All she had to do was let them think they’re in control. Then they’d fall right into her trap.
They would become hers.
All three of them.
She would use their desire to dig her claws deeper into their minds until they began to relish in the pain – until they finally submit.
For the first time in their lives Damien, Aeron and Kaito are forced to learn what true chaosreally is.
This is a reverse harem mafia romance where the villain gets the girl. It has some dark themes including manipulation, stalking, kidnapping, and violence. This story also has MM.
“If I thought I could steal you from him, I would,” she whispered, and somehow Kaito knew she was talking about Aeron, not Damien. “I’d be willing to share you with him though. He’s almost as pretty as you are. I want him to break me, but I want you…I want you to eat me alive.”
Kaito shuddered, knowing he was well and truly fucked now. This girl understood him, and he hadn’t said a single word. She wanted what he wanted, and his obsession with Aeron didn’t seem like a dirty little secret when she talked about it.
She was focused on his scar like it held the secrets of the universe. Then she looked up at him and licked her lips.
For the first time since it happened, someone else had touched that mark on his neck and he hadn’t wanted to destroy her for it. No, Kaito wanted this crazy woman to sink her teeth into it, even though he knew it would hurt like a bitch.
A strangled sound left him and Kaito couldn’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed, not when she started riding him again. Even through their clothes the sensation made him mindless until he was driving his hips up into her, desperately trying to create more pressure and friction.
Her breaths started to come in pants and Kaito leaned forward, rubbing his nose along hers just to feel those breaths—the evidence of her desire on his face as well as his dick.
All he wanted to do was taste her – the poison would be worth it.
Because he knew that sharp sting was exactly what she really tasted like, and he was the only one who hadn’t gotten to devour her. Kaito sank his teeth into her jaw, holding the bone with enough force her hips stuttered, and a little cry left her lips.
This was his though, this pleasure he’d let her take, the sharp sweetness of her skin.
His teeth ached to draw blood, but Kaito held very still, resisting the urge to make another mark on her face.
“Do it,” she whispered, reaching down to unbuckle his pants.
Kira took him out and started stroking so hard and fast there was nothing he could do but fall apart underneath her, teeth digging into her jaw but never breaking the skin.
“Such a good boy,” she murmured, using his shirt to wipe the cum from her hand. “But next time you’ll taste me.”
The praise and the orgasm made him fucking stupid. Kaito licked the mark on her jaw and breathed her in, wanting to hear what else she was willing to tell him. Would she let him know how good he felt when he was fucking the shit out of her?
Would those blue eyes tell him everything he wanted to hear?
Fuck, she’d gotten into his head so deep Kaito didn’t think he’d ever be rid of her
Author Bio:
Emma Dean is the autistic author of Draga Court and the Council of Paranormals. Juggling work, life, higher education, and a rambunctious toddler leaves little room for much else, but when she gets the chance she dives into a good book and likes to re-read the Black Jewels series by Anne Bishop every year during Christmas.
Althalia Cabrera might seem like any other witchy Portland hipster whiling away her days behind the counter of a freaky occult museum, but there’s more to her whole deal than a trendy pursuit of the craft. Althalia is a bruja by blood—the youngest in a long line of powerful magic users from a long-ago culture indigenous to Mexico. In her twenty years, Althalia has studied with her loving abuela by her side, supporting and mentoring her use of the family magic, and protecting her from the darkest parts of their practice’s history. But just as Althalia’s inner light and power begins to shine, the darkness of the past finds its way into her world and strikes a tragic blow, testing Althalia in ways she might not be prepared enough to survive.
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 4 out of 5.
I thought the premise of this series sounded interesting and the first installment was definitely a great start. We get introduced to what I think is the core group pretty quickly, but it’s more than just a fun and magical adventure. From the beginning there’s discussions of what has happened to the culture that Althalia and her abuela are a part of. The first installment ends on quite a cliffhanger and I’m excited to see where it goes.
The Indigo Heather Siegel
Publication date: June 1st 2022
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Jett Hart, a 16-year-old girl from New Jersey, refuses to accept the diagnosis that her mother is brain-dead. Yes, Mom’s long-comatose body seems like an empty shell. But there was that split-second, weird time Jett swears she lifted out from her own body and travelled to an indigo-colored, starry space, where she felt Mom’s presence.
Now, as Jett’s caretaking Aunt threatens to pull Mom’s life support, Jett must find this mysterious indigo place again and return her mother to her body before it’s too late. The bad news is that only her schoolmate Farold — who may or may not give off a more-than-friends vibe — believes she can do this. The good news is that he’s an amateur quantum physicist in training and has some ideas about how to help Jett get back “up there.”
Even if Jett manages to find Mom in the “indigo,” can she bring her back to her body? While also staying connected to her own “empty shell” below? And, what if . . . someone is trying to stop her?
A teen thriller offering astral projection cosmology, life cords, parallel universes, and wormholes, THE INDIGO is a wild trip through one person’s consciousness “above,” her interconnected reality “below,” and the psychological and potentially fatal dangers of being disconnected from both.
“I didn’t know the school had a Quantum Club,” says a girl passing by. Popular. A junior, in black Lululemon leggings.
“What the hell’s ‘quantum’?” a familiar voice says. “Oh . . . that explains it.” I turn to see my cousin Meghan looking in my direction. Hair highlighted blond. Glossy pink lips. We are nearly the same age, and worlds apart.
“Don’t know and don’t care,” a beefy senior guy says. “Let’s go eat.”
“Oh, Matty, all you care about is food.” Meghan giggles as they continue walking.
Truthfully, I don’t know what quantum is either, but a quick Google search gives me the answer:
The study of physics that allows for particles to be in two states at the same time.
“That’s weird,” I say out loud to no one.
I head for the cafeteria, intrigued…
There are three people seated in the sea-foam-green cabbage-smelling room. No surprise Mickey Mizner and Brian Leonard are two of them.
“My problem is I’ve got everything prepped for ampage past 27MHz,” Mickey says, blowing dark bangs off square-framed glasses. “I just need to hit ionosphere at the right angle—” He taps a black box on the table, the size of a breadbox, with knobs and buttons. From here, I make out the words Galaxy Torchlighter 825.
“—Sweet, isn’t she?”
“Sweet and illegal to jack up,” Brian replies.
The new guy swigs from an Orangina and scribbles in his notebook, his white braided bracelets scratching against the Formica tabletop. He’s wearing an MIT sweatshirt, and peeking out from the neckline is a black rope necklace. At the ends of his hair, gold beads catch the fluorescent light.
“It’s not a bad start,” he says, looking up and taking a swig of orange soda. “But can you get someone on the other end of the world to receive the signal? The antipode must be, what, Australia?”
“That’s what I told you,” Brian says. He’s wearing a uniform from the ice cream store Sunset Scoops: a brown wavy smock made to resemble dripping hot fudge, and a maraschino cherry hat.
“Wait, the what is Australia?” Mickey asks.
“It means ‘opposite,’ ” I say, reaching the table. “Geographically, right?”
The new guy grins at me, his eyes twinkling with approval. And I’m not going to lie: I can’t help but grin back. I slide into the end seat.
“Farold,” he says.
“Jett.”
“Well, now that we got that out of the way,” Brian cuts in. “I’m thinking Electromagnetic Induction. The hypothesis is that a current can create a magnetic field.”
“Also not bad.” Farold scribbles again and glances up. “But you’d have to check if it’s already been done.” He has a singsong quality to his words. I like the way “realize” is “real’izze.”
Mickey shoulders Brian. “That’s what I told you.” He turns to Farold. “Anyway, if I find someone across the world, in an antipode” — he glances to me — “think it’s worth seeing if my radio’s skip is capable?”
Brian shoves back. “Mine may be done, but there’s nothing yet on what can and cannot escape the said magnetic field. . . .”
“They’re both solid starts.” Farold draws his fist to rest beneath his sculpted jaw line, looking suddenly like the art room’s knockoff sculpture of Michelangelo’s “The Thinker.” “But since this is going to be a competition for MIT, the best science institution in the country, we’ll have to shoot beyond the rudimentary. . . . Any other ideas?”
Three faces turn to me. One cute as hell. But I’m here to listen. Besides, I can’t take the rejection again.
“Every idea has merit,” Farold says.
“He’s dope, Jett,” Mickey says, which coming from him sounds anything but dope.
“If she doesn’t have any ideas . . . ” Brian says.
“I don’t . . . I mean, I thought . . . I don’t know, maybe we were going to talk about quantum physics or whatever, not enter a competition.”
“You study quantum physics?” Farold asks.
“No . . . but it sounds interesting.”
“Which part?”
I could feel defensive, but there’s something about the way he asks, earnestly, and the way he looks at me, so open and curious. “I . . . guess . . . I liked what your flier said. It made me think. Wonder, really. Something I’ve been thinking about. The idea of things being in two separate places at the same time?”
He smiles again, right through me, sending a tingle along my neck. “I’m actually working on something that poses that exact question. But it’s hard to prove. I mean, so far, no one has . . . supported it.”
“I hear that.”
“I had a feeling you might.”
“How would you have a feeling about that?”
“Your hesitation.” Our eyes affix. Is it my imagination or is there something palpable between us?
“Tell me your idea,” he says.
“Tell me yours.”
“You guys know we’re in the room, right?” Brian says.
Farold turns to him. “Two particles in separate boxes.”
“Following,” Mickey says.
He waves his hand, drawing us all in. “It’s proven they can communicate with one another and influence each other’s physical spin. Well, I propose they relate to one another in a nonscientific way. In a way we can’t really yet name. That they can speak to one another . . . by sensing one another.”
His eyes meet mine, alight, full of possibility. “Your turn.”
And like that, I find myself blurting the story I promised I’d stop telling people:
“There was an accident. . . . I could tell my mother wasn’t there. . . . And then this thing happened at the hospital. . . . But I’ve tried everything and can’t get back. . . .”
“What have you tried?” Farold asks.
“You name it. Re-creating the events. Dreaming and setting an alarm. I’ve tried something called the rope technique, and the ladder technique. Also, rolling out, driving out, rotating, and yo-yo’ing, which is basically trying to climb, drive, or shimmy out of my body. I’ve tried the point-shift method and the picture technique, in which I’m supposed to envision myself hovering at the ceiling, looking down at my bed. I’ve even sent away for this—”
I pluck the envelope from my bag and tear it open.
That’s when Mickey and Brian call it a day.
“Next Thursday?” Mickey asks, gathering his CB radio.
“Yeah, I gotta split too,” Brian adds. “You’re awesome, man. . . . Uh, good luck, Jett.” Brian tips his ice cream cone hat and exits the cafeteria, leaving me alone with Farold, my heart sinking at the sight of the DVD on the table between us.
It’s not the cheesy clouds against sky on the circular sticker adhered to the DVD that rushes blood to my cheeks, but the airbrushed, ethereal angel flying through those clouds.
At $39.99, this cost me more than four hours of librarian work. Why did I think this was a good idea to share — or buy?
Farold slides the disc into his laptop, turning the device for both of us to see. Even the digital quality is pathetic. Two women wearing flowing garb and seeming to float on a cloud discuss how they came to learn under the tutelage of the Dr. Reflexology guy, the art of soul travel by aligning their chakras — what they can help me do for the next hour. Though if I want to learn the nine secrets to launching myself, I will need to send away for the DVD package. For a mere $69.99 more.
I want to crawl under the table.
“I didn’t know it would be this—”
“—cheapjack.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s what we say in Trinidad. Or in English, ‘cringe-y.’ ”
And that’s my cue.
I stand, slinging my backpack on, and extend my palm for the DVD, even knowing as pathetic as it is, I am going to watch it — a thought that makes my cheeks even hotter. Because that’s how desperate I’ve become, and I hate myself for it. “Anyway . . . if you can just keep everything I said earlier to yourself.”
He pops out the DVD and walks around the table to stand before me, a foot taller. “What happens in Quantum Club stays in Quantum Club.” He edges close enough for me to smell a delicious vanilla scent wafting from his sweatshirt, to feel those tingles again, and to see in his pupils gold flecks that look like stars.
“Could be a multiverse, you know. That Indigo place?” His hand grazes my wrist as he places the plastic disc back in my palm. “Alternate realities are always taking place. The name for it in quantum mechanics is the Many Interacting Worlds.”
Prickles down my neck. “Are you saying . . . you believe me?”
“There are no absolute proofs in quantum theory. It’s about what we can measure, and to what precision.” He seems to have an idea, darts back to his notebook, and scribbles.
“We’re going to need to know what’s been documented on the theory so far, and under what conditions.” More scribbling. “Oh, and what laws govern these . . . phenomena. So . . . maybe that’s not a total waste?” He nods to the DVD.
I place it on the table, suppressing tears, and take a seat.
Author Bio:
Heather Siegel is the author of THE KING & THE QUIRKY, and OUT FROM THE UNDERWORLD. She teaches academic and creative writing, holds an MFA from The New School University, and lives with her family in Southern Florida.
The Wandering Wordsmith 