Sancte Diaboli: Part Two, the all-new, highly anticipated installment in the Elite Kings series that will leave you on the edge of your seat from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Amo Jones, is available now!
He held a darkness that could never be touched. She carried a light that could never be seen.
Not by anyone. Only by each other.
Simply two halves of the same soul, Brantley and Saint were fused together with equal parts wrath and peace. Nothing could break through their bond. Nothing.
Everyone has a story, and when you die, your memories cling to the minds of the people you leave behind, scripted in permanent ink. They can go back and visit their favorite chapters when they need comfort, or simply skip over the scenes they want to forget, but what they can’t do, is be removed. Even if you tear a page from a well-written book, there will always be telltale signs something was there. There you lie, embedded in their minds forever, so essentially you’ll live forever, right? I didn’t think much about this until I met him. The day that I would die, I mean. Would I leave behind a novella, or would it be a nine-book series that would need your undivided attention? You see, I’ve gazed into the eyes of death twice in my life, and both times began at the entrance of his soul. His stare was always heavy and roguish, but he lit a match inside my body that would burn a lifetime after I’m gone. I wasn’t sure what I felt the first time his cold, corpse-like skin sailed over mine, but I remember it was the exact day that I knew I would never be the same. I was touched by the Devil; Heaven would never want me now. Not that Heaven was where I belonged either, though I’m sure he thought so. Tortured souls still weep; they tear themselves apart in dark corners where no one can see. Brantley is just that—tortured—though he doesn’t conceal it. He wears his darkness like a souvenir, proud and indifferent. I knew Brantley from the inside out, and I say that literally. I was familiar with the notes that his blood left in my mouth well after I had swallowed it. And I think that will haunt me more than anything. It will haunt me so much more than this day. The day my book hit the final page.
Meet Amo Jones
Amo Jones is a USA Today & Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author whose books have been translated in multiple countries.
She resides in the tropics of Australia with her family, though she’s a born and bred Kiwi who more often than not, misses New Zealand.
He makes me laugh on my darkest days and calms me when I’m at my most chaotic.
He’s also totally gorgeous, or so I’ve been told.
And sinfully sexy, not that it matters.
Best friends don’t notice those things.
Kelley gets me like no one else does, and I get him. Our friendship is perfect.
One chemistry-filled moment has the power to change everything, and soon old feelings we’d ignored and memories we’d tried to forget come crashing back.
I never want to lose him, but I’ve been keeping secrets.
And I never prepared for falling in love with my best friend.
*Love You Better is a sweet and sexy, best friends to lovers, second chance romance. The new adult romance has heart, heat, and an HEA sure to make you swoon. Love You Better is the first standalone in the Better Love series.
Now, it doesn’t matter how far I pull away. To protect my swan and save her from the darkness inside me. It doesn’t matter how hard I push her away, because everything comes back to that
One moment. One kiss. One smile.
The more I resist, the greater my need for her becomes. It’s impossible to let her go and reckless to keep her when the world around us threatens her every heart beat. I watch her from the shadows and guard her from afar. There is nothing I won’t do to keep her alive. No line I won’t cross or blood I won’t spill. Because I’m not a monster, I’m the Devil that will destroy your soul if you go near mine.
I am a moth enthralled by her flame.
Leaving only one certainty in this war–Georgina is my destruction and my end.
Frederick Emsworth has closed himself off. In a world where your next breath could be your last, he’s a living, breathing weapon with no give. Brooding, volatile, and haunted, he has no want for love. Until he’s given the job of watching over his best friend’s sister. Georgina is fiery, driven, and everything that turns his world upside down. Now he’s caught between the ghost of his past, shadows that threaten them at every turn, and a love so consuming that it scorches with hate.
Alexandra Silva is a tequila loving book hoarder. She lives in London with her boys and man, as well as their three cats.
She writes Contemporary Romance and Romantic Suspense. Her stories are raw, heartfelt and sexy. With flawed, dirty talking and sexy as hell heroes, and feisty heroines that give them a run for their money.
Salted Caramel Coconut lattes are a real weakness along with dark, taboo romance and angsty new adult reads.
She blames the classics and a nutty English teacher for her obsession with books and fiction. Come rain or shine with either coffee or wine in hand you can find her with her nose stuck in a book and her head in the clouds.
The Monster, an all-new emotional and angst filled standalone romance from USA Today and #1 Amazon bestselling author L.J. Shen is available now!
The most important thing I’d ever read was scribbled on the door of a portable restroom, engraved into plastic at a carnival on the outskirts of Boston. Lust lingers, love stays. Lust is impatient, love waits. Lust burns, love warms. Lust destroys, but love? Love kills. Maybe it was always my destiny to fall in love with a monster. When other kids stayed awake at night fearing the pointy-toothed beast hiding in their closet, I longed to see mine. I wanted to feed it, domesticate it, understand it. Sam and I were only allowed to love each other in the dark. Once our story unfolded, and the truth came to light, I was the one to cut the cord. My name is Aisling Fitzpatrick, and I have a confession to make. Sam Brennan is not the only monster in this story.
I’ve stood by him for years. Been a friend every time he needed one, but he doesn’t see me. Not like I want him to.
Move on, my friends said. Find someone new. Someone who sees your worth. Someone who gets you. I know they’re right. I’m only a friend to him. He’s never going to see me like I see him. So I take their advice, and try to move on.
But Jackson is always right there. In my face. Running to my rescue. And when I meet someone else, Jackson isn’t having it. For some reason, he’s suddenly determined to stay in my life. Right by my side.
Now he says he wants me, but does he want an actual relationship? Or is that he can’t stand the thought of losing me to another guy?
It’s time to find out what Jackson truly wants…and I’m going to make him work for it.
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Monica Murphy is a New York Times, USA Today and international bestselling romance author. Her books have been translated in almost a dozen languages and have sold over two million copies worldwide. Both a traditionally published and independently published author, she writes young adult, new adult and contemporary romance. She’s also known as USA Today bestselling author Karen Erickson.
A native Californian, she lives on fourteen acres in the middle of nowhere with her husband, two kids, one dog, and four cats. When she’s not writing, she’s an assistant coach for her daughter’s high school cheer team, which is a two season sport. Meaning, she’s at practice with a bunch of teenage girls all the time. Or she’s at a football game. Or a basketball game. Maybe someday, she’ll even write about this experience.
“Reel is alive and pulsing like a beating heart. This romance is a triumph of art and emotion.” –Talia Hibbert, New York Times bestselling author
Reel, an all new epic CONTEMPORARY STANDALONE love story from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Kennedy Ryan, is available now!
One moment in the spotlight.
For months I stood by, an understudy waiting in the wings, preparing for my time to shine. I never imagined he would watch in the audience that night. Canon Holt. Famous film director. Fascinating. Talented. Fine. Before I could catch my breath, everything changed. I went from backstage Broadway to center stage Hollywood. From being unknown, to my name, Neevah Saint, on everyone’s lips. Canon casts me in a star-studded Harlem Renaissance biopic, catapulting me into another stratosphere.
But stars shine brightest in the dead of night. Forbidden attraction, scandal and circumstances beyond my control jeopardize my dream. Could this one shot—the role of a lifetime, the love of a lifetime—cost me everything?
About Kennedy Ryan USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Kennedy Ryan and her writings have been featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today, Entertainment Weekly, Glamour, Cosmo, TIME, O Mag and many others. A RITA® Award winner, Kennedy writes empowered women from all walks of life and centers those who have found themselves perennially on the margins of traditional storytelling.
Her Hoops Series (Long Shot, Block Shot and Hook Shot) and All the King’s Men Series (The Kingmaker, The Rebel King and Queen Move) have been optioned for television.
An autism mom, Kennedy co-founded LIFT 4 Autism, an annual charitable initiative, and has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as an advocate for autism families. She is a wife to her lifetime lover and mother to an extraordinary son.
Presley Hale and Sebastian Vargas are no strangers to goodbye. Their high school summers were spent wrapped up in each other until she would inevitably go home to California. One season after college, Sebastian finally escaped the little Texas town to travel the world, and they said goodbye for what they thought might be the last time.
Sebastian went one way. Presley went the other.
For the first time in five years, they’re both in town, but the timing is no better than ever. So the only thing to do is what they do best. Keep it casual.
Friends with benefits.
They’ve done it before—doing it again will be easy.
But their hearts don’t get the memo.
When the lines of their arrangement blur, Presley and Sebastian are faced with decisions they’ve avoided for years. And that’s not even their biggest problem.
A small town in danger of failing.
A secret that could tear them apart.
And two hearts that can’t hide anymore.
They’ve shared so many summers, but none compare to what they’ll face.
Timing is everything.
And their time is almost up.
Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life — a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.
Marymount girls are good girls. We’re chaste, we’re untouched, and even if we weren’t, no one would know, because we keep our mouths shut.
Not that I have anything to share anyway. I never let guys go too far. I’m behaved.
Beautiful, smart, talented, popular, my skirt’s always pressed, and I never have a hair out of place. I own the hallways, walking tall on Monday and dropping to my knees like the good Catholic girl I am on Sunday.
That’s me. Always in control.
Or so they think. The truth is that it’s easy for me to resist them, because what I truly want, they can never be. Something soft and smooth. Someone dangerous and wild.
Unfortunately, what I want I have to hide. In the locker room after hours. The bathroom stall between classes. The showers after practice.
My head swimming. My hand up her skirt.
For me, life is a web of secrets. No one can find out mine.
I cross the tracks every day for one reason—to graduate from this school and get into the Ivy League. I’m not ashamed of where I come from, my family, or how everyone at Marymount thinks my skirts are too short and my lipstick is too red.
Clay Collins and her friends have always turned up their noses at me. The witch with her beautiful skin, clean shoes, and rich parents who torments me daily and thinks I won’t fight back.
At least not until I get her alone and find out she’s hiding so much more than just what’s underneath those pretty clothes.
The princess thinks I’ll scratch her itch. She thinks she’s still pure as long as it’s not a guy touching her.
I told her to stay on her side of town. I told her not to cross the tracks.
But one night, she did. And when I’m done with her, she’ll never be pure again.
*Tryst Six Venom is a standalone, new adult romance between the wealthy princess with a temper for what’s hers and the hard girl from the wrong crowd. One battles convention. The other, her pride. But nothing will stop it.
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Pen Douglas manages to turn every trope into a unique, twisty, and addictive read. I am not usually a reader of FF romance, but when Pen announces a new book – it immediately goes on my TBR, and I’m so glad I put my trust in her with this one!
This story is so much more than a YA FF romance. It is relevant to not only today’s teens and the struggles they face as LGBTQ young adults, but also to how society perceives them and how social classes play a role in opportunities allowed to both the rich and lower income families. The way in which this author wrote the story in line with Romeo & Juliet was brilliant – I loved the modern edge to it, and the division of the Saints and the Swamp rats.
Liv & Clay were everything and more from a HS couple as friends, enemies, bullies, allies, and lovers. I loved their charismatic personalities; Liv being the out, strong, edgy and tough “swamp rat”, and Clay being the upper class “princess” who looked like a Barbie and talked with barbs on her words. They were cruel to each other, brutally honest, they challenged one another, and ultimately their hate turned into love that could no longer be denied. Their pull was so real and natural, their lust was raw and passionate, and their connection to each other was both beautiful and all-consuming.
I loved the path that Liv & Clay’s relationship took…it would not have had the impact that it did had they veered from their enemies to lovers course. Their characters both stayed true to themselves, never sacrificing their own person but only allowing themselves to bend and open their eyes to self-acceptance and love. Their words were beautifully broken at times, and I spilled many tears for these two young women who left themselves vulnerable and open to love.
In true Pen Douglas fashion, this story is full of characters who you will be drawn to whether they’re the villain or the “hero”; there are twists and surprises that turn this five star read into six stars and will leave you begging for more from these characters. Liv’s five brothers need a series of their own – they all left me salivating for more of their dark, possessive, and lusty behavior. 😉
I loved EVERY.SINGLE.THING. about this book….the setting, the characters, the addictive storyline, and the true, raw passion and love between these two young women. Well done once again Pen Douglas! I can only hope that we will see more from these characters one day!
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I stalk down the nearly empty row, drop my bag, and look at her. She turns her head, sees me and rises, grabbing her backpack, but I slide into the seat, grab her wrist, and yank her ass back down.
“Sit,” I growl through my teeth, feeling heat rise up my neck as she crashes back into the wooden pew, her jaw flexing.
There’s no point in denying myself any of this. I’m a bitch, but only to her, and only because it feels so good. Fuck it.
“Do something for me?” I ask her, keeping my voice low as students fill the rows around us, and the altar servers light the candles. “Move your ass a little faster down the field than my grandmother this Saturday, or is that too much trouble?”
Liv doesn’t look at me, just stares ahead as she lets out a quiet little laugh. “I haul ass down that field.” Relaxing back into her seat, she hangs her elbows over the back of the pew, and her shirt creeps up a little. I spot the switchblade she keeps hooked over the waist of her skirt, but hidden on the inside, that only I seem to know about. So far anyway. She goes on, “I’ll never understand how a princess who can’t pass a ball for shit and brags to anyone who will listen about being a Swiftie,” and she does air quotes, “‘even before she went pop’ is our team captain. Oh, wait. Yes, I do understand. Daddy is useful. When he’s there.”
My father didn’t get me that position. She can think what she likes.
But I grin and turn toward the front of the church, my arm brushing hers.
“Swiftie?” I say. “Aw, you stalk my Twitter.”
That was like four years ago when I said that.
But she just mumbles, “I couldn’t care less about your Twitter and your twenty-eight followers.”
“At least I don’t lose a dozen every day,” I retort.
Yeah, maybe I stalk her Twitter, too. And I don’t have twenty-eight followers. I don’t have as many as her, but it’s more than twenty-eight.
“The world just doesn’t like tattooed feminazis with hairy armpits,” I tell her, my gaze catching the dimple on her cheek as she smirks, “who pass judgments like all the other constipated Captain Americas on social media who act like they really know anything when they’re just angry their life sucks donkey nuts.”
The dimple grows deeper, her matte red lips pursing to keep her amusement at bay. My heart thumps, and for a moment, I can’t look away. Sometimes I get lost, looking at her. The shape of her nose that I’m kind of jealous of. How soft the lobe of her ear looks. The way she chews the corner of her mouth sometimes.
“Is everything okay?” someone says, snapping me out of it.
I turn my head, seeing Megan Martelle standing over us, holding a stack of collection baskets. Her blue eyes flit between Liv and me, knowing very well that this isn’t a friendly conversation, but lucky for her, this isn’t any of her damn business.
“Fine, thanks,” I reply, my tone a big enough hint she’d have to be blind to miss.
But she looks to Liv instead. “Liv?”
Excuse me? It’s not the name. It’s how she says it. Like they know each other.
Liv must give her some gesture or something, because Martelle gives me one last look and then slowly leaves, continuing down the aisle toward the back of the church without another word.
What the hell is she thinking? Does she want to become my next hobby or something?
I reach down and pull my backpack closer before turning my eyes back to Liv to see if she’s watching her leave.
But she’s staring at me instead, amusement in her eyes.
“What the hell are you smiling at?” I demand.
She never loses her cool, and it pisses me off.
But she just replies, “You have a tattoo.”
Her gaze drifts to my hand, and I squeeze my fingers together, covering it. All over again, I feel the needle carve into the inside of my middle finger on my left hand.
Fair enough. I’d mocked tattooed feminazis, an umbrella term I tossed her under, when, in fact, she doesn’t actually have any tattoos. Not even the one of her family’s little Sanoa Bay gang—the snake and hourglass that she wears on a bracelet around her wrist. Her brothers all seem to have it inked on them somewhere.
Her eyes hold mine, maybe waiting for a response or daring me for one, but the light coming in from the stained-glass windows catches the coppery glint of the strands in her dark hair, a lock hanging over her eye as the rest spills around her shoulders. A dozen or so little braids decorate her hair, none of the ends secured with rubber bands. She looks like a warrior girl in one of those futuristic dystopian movies.
And all of a sudden, nothing is hot anymore. It’s just incredibly warm.
I squeeze my fingers tighter, the lines inked on the inside of my finger making the four quarters of an inch on a ruler, very few ever notice the lines, and those who do probably just assume I’ve leaked pen on myself.
Within that inch we are free. One inch.
“Clay?” she says, her tone different.
I don’t realize I’m staring off until I bring my eyes back into focus and see the black of her Polo shirt. I lift my gaze, seeing a worried expression on hers.
Her eyes shift to my hand on the pew in front of us, and I notice that it’s shaking.
“You okay?” she asks.
I inhale hard, angry at myself. Why would I not be okay?
She grabs my backpack. “You need one of your little blue pills?”
But I snatch the pack out of her hands and glare at her. “If you let her touch you,” I bite out, changing the subject. “She will live to regret it. I don’t even have to leave this seat to ruin her life.”
Liv looks back at me, and I want to get closer—get in her face, because I want a reaction.
“She won’t be able to take it,” I growl in a low voice. “I will keep going until she can’t take it.”
I can ruin anyone’s life from my phone. It would be fun. And easy.
“You’re not embarrassing our team,” I finally tell her.
Megan was flirting yesterday. There’s no way in hell that’s happening.
She holds my gaze and then draws in a breath, another fucking air of delight written all over her stupid, fucking face. “I don’t like women who chase me anyway,” she says. “When I want them, they know.”
A tingle spreads up my spine, and when I expect to feel anger at her boldness, something else comes over me instead.
When I want them, they know. How do they know? What does she do?
But she rises from her seat without elaborating. “Excuse me,” she says, and takes her bag, trying to leave.
But I stomp down the kneeler, grab her wrist, and yank her to her knees. She sucks in a breath as she catches herself on the pew in front of her, and I pick up my backpack and rise.
“Sit your ass down,” I grit out.
I don’t stay to see her reaction. I spin around, ignoring the spying eyes from those around us, and leave the chapel just as Mass begins.
Penelope Douglas is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her books have been translated into fifteen languages and include The Fall Away Series, The Devil’s Night Series, and the stand-alones, Misconduct, Punk 57, Birthday Girl, and Credence. Please look for Tryst Six Venom and Motel, as well as the Hellbent series, coming next!
She lives in Las Vegas with her husband and their daughter.
Two years ago, Reed Jackson betrayed Calliope Thorne and broke her heart. So she stole his most prized possession – a white mustang – and drove it into the lake for revenge. Now, Callie is stuck at a reform school while Reed is off at college, living his life without repercussions. Until he comes back. With him comes back all the feelings that Callie has been trying to bury: anger and heartbreak. But most of all, desire. At the sight of his beautiful but lying lips and his gunmetal gray eyes that still taunt and smolder when he looks at her. Whatever though. It’s not as if Callie is ever going to fall for her ex-boyfriend again. Or let him corner her in a bar one night and touch her, kiss her… Neither is she going to kiss him back. Or worse, sleep with him. Because that would make her naïve and foolish. Oh, and also pregnant. And there’s no way Callie is ever going to get pregnant at eighteen and with Reed’s baby, no less. The guy she hates. The guy who taught her all about heartbreak. Who might look like a gorgeous hero but really is the villain of her story. NOTE: This story is a standalone and does not contain cheating.