The Bully, an all-new enemies-to-lovers standalone in The Kingmakers Series from bestselling author Sophie Lark, is available now!
Cat is in so much trouble. She did something bad, and I saw.
I’ll keep her secret… for a price.
Poor, sweet, timid Cat should never have come to Kingmakers. It’s a place for monsters and killers. People like me.
She wandered into the lion’s den and now she’s mine.
Mine to play with. Mine to torment. Mine to break…
The Lark Notes: My very first inspiration for Kingmakers was Dean Yenin. I wanted to write a true anti-hero, with a character arc spanning three books. Dean will make you feel all the things, sometimes against your will. You’ll love him and hate him and love him again, and never get him out of your head. – Sophie
“The Bully” is the third installment in the epic dark mafia Kingmakers series. It’s a bully romance, full of dark, twisted enemies-to-lovers conflict, and some dubious scenes. Reader beware, this one is intense.
I have to return to my own life at Kingmakers. Even if there’s something horrible waiting there for me.
It’s ironic. My father is forbidden to force me into a marriage contract against my will. But I’ve already trapped myself in something far, far worse.
The moment I step foot aboard the ship to Kingmakers, I’m looking around for Dean Yenin. I remember the last words we spoke to each other as though it were three minutes ago, instead of three months.
“I know what you did . . .
“I saw you . . .
“I won’t tell. But understand this . . . I own you now. When we come back to school, you’re mine. My servant. My slave. For as long as I want you . . .”
I almost spilled my secret to Zoe a hundred times. I almost told her what I did.
But in the end, I stuffed the words down again, into the ball of frozen fear that’s been lodged deep in my guts all this time.
This is my burden to bear, not hers. If I told Zoe the truth, she’d never feel free to go to L.A. with Miles.
She’d be compelled to stay with me, to try to protect me from something she simply can’t prevent.
Dean knows what I did. He could tell the Chancellor at any time. Nothing can stop him from doing that. My only chance is to stay on his good side. To trust in his mercy.
The only problem is that I don’t think he has any goddamned mercy.
I’m trying to please a man who can’t be pleased.
Dean is spiteful. Vengeful. Full of rage.
He could destroy me with a single word, just because I looked at him sideways.
The train of his hatred is long and complicated.
He hates Leo Gallo because of the feud between their families.
He hates Miles and Zoe because Miles is Leo’s cousin.
And he hates me because I’m Zoe’s sister.
But that barely scratches the surface of his fury. I’ve thought about this long and hard over the summer, wondering how I truly attracted his ire.
The real reason he hates me is that I saw him in a private, unguarded moment. I saw him sobbing after Ozzy’s mother was executed by the Chancellor.
I saw him hunched over, tears streaming down his face, as he gave in to the storm of pain inside him.
And he will never, never, never forgive me for that.
I saw Dean weak and vulnerable. He’ll have me killed before he’ll chance me telling anybody else.
Like a fool, I handed him the perfect leverage over me.
I murdered Rocco Prince, my sister’s intended fiancé.
And Dean knows it.
The Rule of Recompense is the most iron-clad law of Kingmakers: an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, life for a life.
If Dean tells anyone what I did, I’ll be executed, just like Ozzy’s mother.
About Sophie Sophie Lark is an Amazon Bestselling author who writes intense, intelligent romance, with heroines who are strong and capable, and men who will do anything to capture their hearts. She lives with her husband, two boys, and baby girl in the Rocky Mountain West.
She has a slight obsession with hiking, bodybuilding, and live comedy shows. Her perfect day would be taking the kids to Harry Potter World, going dancing with Mr. Lark, then relaxing with a good book and a monster bag of salt and vinegar chips.
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.
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.
OLIVIA
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.
A Kiss for A Kiss, an all-new surprise baby, mature adult romance from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting is available now!
I’m Jake Masterson, single dad, and the General Manager of Seattle’s NHL team. I walked away from a career as a player so I could raise my daughter. For the last twenty-plus years, Queenie has been my main priority, but now she’s getting married.
And there’s a small complication.
A beautiful, sexy complication named Hanna.
She’s my son-in-law’s older sister. Or at least that’s how they were raised. The truth is a little more scandalous than that.
I’ve been drawn to her from the moment I laid eyes on her. And I spent months trying to keep a lid on that attraction.
Until we finally give in.
It starts with one searing kiss, but quickly ends with us between the sheets—and in the shower, and the hot tub, you get the picture—and turns into months of sneaking around. Here’s the problem: we live on opposite ends of the country. It can’t be anything but casual. And as I’ve already said…it’s complicated.
But when Hanna finds out she’s pregnant…suddenly things get real serious.
“You’re trouble tonight, aren’t you?” Her fingertips dance along my traps as she brushes past me. “And yes, to answer your question, I did, in fact, bring the red bikini.” She disappears down the hall to the spare bedroom, where she’s sleeping tonight. Because I invited her to stay at my place this weekend rather than at King’s. It’s not that she isn’t welcome there. It’s more that she wants them to have their privacy. It also means I get more time with Hanna, so it’s a win all the way around. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking a lot about time alone with her this weekend. I change into my swim trunks, pour myself a scotch, heavy on the rocks, and her a glass of wine before I make my way outside. I set the drinks on the outdoor dining table, remove the hot tub cover and check the temperature, making sure it’s not too hot. Once I carry the drinks over and set them in the cup holders, I sink into the hot, bubbly water, stretch my arms out, let my head fall back and my eyes close. All the time I’ve been spending with Hanna is starting to get to me. Reminding me that I’m in my forties, and very much still a bachelor. There are a lot of reasons why getting involved with Hanna on a romantic level would not be a good idea. Queenie and King’s relationship being at the forefront. But she’s fun. And sexy. And we get each other. A minute later, the sound of the sliding door opening and closing and the slap of flip-flops against the deck have me cracking a lid. “You better not be sleeping already!” she calls out. “Not sleeping, just waiting on you.” I watch as she pulls the tie on her robe and the terry fabric slips over her shoulders, revealing that red bikini I’m such a fan of. Hanna is all curves. Amazing curves. The kind I’ve fantasized about putting my hands on plenty of times over the past several months. And with us spending a lot more time together,
it’s been hard not to give in to the constant draw. I rise from the water and hold out a hand as she climbs the steps. Her fingers slip into my palm, sending a jolt down my spine and a stirring inside my swim trunks. “Could you try to be a little less beautiful all the time?”I tease as I help her into the tub. “Could you try to have more of a dad bod?” She drags her fingers down my abs, brows waggling, a smile on her gorgeous face. “You are definitely good for my ego, Jake.” She pats me on the chest and sinks into the water on the opposite side of the tub from me. Which is probably a good thing since I feel like we’re playing with fire tonight. The kind I wouldn’t mind pouring a gallon of gasoline on just to watch it burn brighter. “That was a great engagement party. I think the kids had fun, don’t you?”She stretches her legs out. Her toes skim the outside of my thigh and I barely resist the urge to run my hand up her calf. I don’t know what’s in the air tonight, but things seem…different. Heightened. “Yeah. It was good,” I agree. She pokes me with her toe. “Then why are you frowning? You’ve been off all night. What’s going on?” With all the planning and talks we’ve been having, Hanna and I have gotten to know each other better. And she can read me pretty easily. “I don’t know. On one hand, I’m happy for King and Queenie and I know he’s going to be a great husband to my daughter, but I spent all these years raising her, and being there for her. They’ve been living together for months, but for some reason, it’s all kind of hitting me. It’s real now.” I take a sip of my scotch. “It’s different from when she went away to college, and even when she moved out of the pool house and in with King. There’s this hole I didn’t expect.” “It sounds like empty nester’s syndrome.” She moves to the spot beside to me, where the glass of wine I poured her sits. “Is that what this is? I’m all morose and shit.” She chuckles and props her elbow on the edge of the tub. “You need to look at it with a fresh perspective, that’s all. You’re not losing your daughter. It’s different with girls. Sure, she’s found her partner in life, but she’s always going to be your baby girl. And the two of you are so close.” “I don’t know what to do with all of this freedom,” I admit. “My entire life up to this point has been revolved around raising Queenie and my career.” “Which means you did your job. And that’s a good thing. Think about it, Jake. This is the great part about having a kid young. Sure, you lost out on the freedom of your twenties, but in some ways, this is even better. You’re in your forties. You have a great job, you’re in incredible shape.” She twists and pulls her knee up so it rests against my thigh, her arm extending along the back of the tub, fingertips skimming my . “You have all of your hair.” “I’m definitely grateful for the last one,” I joke. “You have great hair.” She runs her fingers through it. “It’s sexy.” She bites her lip and then shakes her head. “Anyway, what I’m saying is, you’re in the prime of your life. Most people in their forties are raising teens, or maybe their kids are getting ready to go to college. You’ve done all that. Now you can just live. You can date. Have fun. Do whatever you want.” “Fun would be good.”My gaze drops to her lips. “And I’d like to do whatever I want.” “Me, too.” Her bottom lip slides through her teeth. “Like right now I could kiss you.” “You definitely could.” I skim her thigh under the water with my fingertips. She nods. “There’s nothing stopping us.” “So why aren’t your lips on mine yet?” I ask. Hanna shifts again, her wet palms come to rest on either side of my jaw, and she presses her soft lips to mine. I slip my hand under her hair and wrap it around the back of her neck. For a moment, I question whether this is a good idea. But when our lips part and our tongues meet, I forget all the reasons why it might not be. I groan as I sink into the kiss and our tongues tangle. She tastes fruity, like the wine she’s been drinking. She straddles me and settles in my lap, her breasts pressing against my chest. She breaks the kiss for a moment and our eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.” “I’ve wanted to know what your lips taste like since the first day I met you,”
About Helena Hunting
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
The Rebel, an all-new, forbidden romance from Sophie Lark is live!
Zoe Romera is trapped in a marriage contract with the most sadistic psychopath at Kingmakers.
She couldn’t be more off-limits. Stealing her from Rocco Prince would break the most ironclad rules of the mafia world.
But I have to have her. She’s my soulmate. I want her, or no one at all.
I’ll do anything to save her. Rocco will do anything to destroy her.
I’ve got one chance to achieve the impossible…
“The Rebel” is is the second book in the epic dark mafia Kingmakers series. It’s a forbidden romance, full of jealousy, desire, and a hero who will do anything to save the woman he loves.
We’re walking up toward the Solar, slowly because neither of us is in a hurry. The thick sod muffles our footsteps.
“It’s not your fault,” Miles says, frowning.
“It is, though. When I disobey my father, he always takes it out on Cat. I knew that beforehand. When I rebel, it’s her that suffers.”
Remembering that immutable fact makes me realize that I’m making the same
mistake all over again. I spent the night at the Halloween party, dancing and drinking with Miles, heedless of the consequences that might follow.
Reading my thoughts, Miles takes my hand. His hand is large and strong, and immensely warm.
“Your cousins weren’t here tonight,” he says. “None of Rocco’s friends, either.”
“They’ll still hear. Everybody talks.”
Miles doesn’t bother to deny that — he knows it’s true.
“Tell me about your marriage contract,” he says.
“I haven’t even read it,” I admit. “I wasn’t part of the negotiations.”
“Do you know what your father’s getting out of the deal? What’s in it for Rocco’s family?”
I explain it to him as best I understand, starting with the wars amongst the Galician clans, and ending with everything I know about my father’s business, and the Princes’.
Miles takes it all in, occasionally asking clarifying questions. This is something I’ve noticed about Miles — he’s an information-gatherer. He’s good at asking just the right questions to figure out what’s really going on.
When I’m done talking, he’s quiet for a while, considering.
“There’s a personal element on Rocco’s side, isn’t there?” he asks me.
“Do you mean, is he in love with me?” I say. “I wouldn’t call it love.”
“He’s fixated,” Miles says.
“Yes. We’ve been betrothed since I was twelve. He’s been planning what he’ll do with me once we’re married for eight years now. He’s more than fixated — he’s obsessed.”
Miles’ expression is serious as he looks at me. Miles has eyes of a color I’ve never seen before — a pure, clear gray. Under the starlight they shine almost silver, lighter than his deeply-tanned skin.
“Even if you there was an incentive for your father and the Princes to void the contract… Rocco wouldn’t agree.”
“No. He doesn’t care about money,” I shudder, “he only wants me.”
We’ve reached the Solar. The wind is picking up just a little, rustling the paper feathers of my angel wings.
“I shouldn’t have kept you out here so long,” Miles says, glancing at my bare arms. “You must be cold.”
I should be cold, going from the heat of the crowded stables to the crisp, open air. But I’m not. I’m never cold around Miles — my heart is always beating too hard, my blood thundering through my veins.
“Your cut has almost healed,” Miles says, gently touching the place next to my eye where Rocco dug his knife.
When Miles touches me, it seems to ignite every nerve beneath his fingertips. That one part of my body becomes more sensitive than every other inch of skin combined.
I don’t think he means to kiss me.
But one hand on my face becomes two, and then he’s pulling me toward him, our lips coming together in one smooth movement. Miles’ lips are full and warm, firm and yet soft against mine. The kiss is gentle at first, and then it becomes deeper, his tongue sliding between my lips, caressing mine.
The taste of his mouth turns attraction into lust. My heart races so hard it feels like one, continuous throb. I’ve thrown myself into his arms. We’re clinging to each other, kissing with a desperation that feels wild and reckless and utterly addictive.
Kissing Miles is like dancing with him. We’re perfectly in synch. Time melts away. I can’t get enough of it, I can’t seem to stop. The wind buffets my paper wings, making a sound like a thousand whispers, lifting me like I might fly away.
Slowly, I realize how exposed we are at the base of the Solar. Even in the dark, anyone looking out their window might spot me in my white gown.
I break away from Miles.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
It was Miles who kissed me, but I shouldn’t have let him. It’s not only dangerous for me to break my contract with Rocco. If anything, it’s even more dangerous for Miles. The Princes could seek retribution.
“I did it,” Miles says, looking at me intently. “And I’m not sorry.”
“We can’t,” I say to him.
We both know we can’t, and yet I allowed myself to pretend otherwise. I enjoyed the fantasy that I could talk to a man I liked, flirt with him, dance with him. I let myself experience the feeling of actually falling for someone, reveling in that sense of mutual attraction. I’ve never felt it before. It’s intoxicating.
But now I’ve crossed the line. And it feels too good. So good that I’m terrified of what I’ll end up doing if I don’t stop now.
“I can’t see you anymore,” I say to Miles.
He’s looking at me, face impassive, not answering.
I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I can’t read Miles as well as he reads me.
“You’re going to see me tomorrow,” he says.
“I’m not.”
“You will,” he says.
His gray eyes are brighter than ever, fixed on mine with an intensity I’ve never seen in Miles before. He acts like he doesn’t care about anything. But I always knew that couldn’t be true, because he’s the furthest thing from lazy. He’s always hustling, always working an angle.
I’m finally seeing what it looks like when Miles is chasing something he wants.
“I can’t kiss you anymore,” I say, “And I can’t be alone with you.”
“I’m not going to argue with you Zoe,” Miles says, his eyes burning into mine. “But I’m also not going to stop.”
Before I can say another word, he turns and strides away from me, across the dark grounds.
I’m staring after him, open-mouthed, my lips still throbbing where he kissed me.
About Sophie Sophie Lark is an Amazon Bestselling author who writes intense, intelligent romance, with heroines who are strong and capable, and men who will do anything to capture their hearts. She lives with her husband, two boys, and baby girl in the Rocky Mountain West.
She has a slight obsession with hiking, bodybuilding, and live comedy shows. Her perfect day would be taking the kids to Harry Potter World, going dancing with Mr. Lark, then relaxing with a good book and a monster bag of salt and vinegar chips.
What happens when the king of football meets the queen of nothing? Find out in The Revenge Pact, an all-new emotional and swoon-worthy enemies-to-lovers standalone romance from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills!
River Tate is a god on campus. The king of football. A tattooed bad boy with gunmetal eyes that see right through you. The only chink in his armor is her, the girl he pretends doesn’t exist, the forbidden one with the shy smile and lavender hair.
Anastasia Bailey is a nobody. The queen of nothing. An outsider with the face of an angel and a body made for sin. The only chink in her armor is him, her boyfriend’s frat brother, the football player who hates her.
But when Anastasia’s life crashes down, River’s the one who sweeps in and picks up the pieces. Torn between loyalty, lies, and secrets, he battles the temptation to take everything from her when they make their revenge pact.
He can’t tell her no. Because revenge (or love) is sweet, and once you get a taste, the craving never ends.
“Tell me three things you’re grateful for,” I say.
She does a double take. “Is this where I’m like your…pet project? Don’t feel sorry for me.”
Rainbow, sorry is the last thing I feel for you.
I want you under me.
Deep and hard.
“How are things with Donovan?” I ask.
Her throat bobs. “I-I can’t talk to you about him. I mean, yeah, um, it…doesn’t feel right, you know, to him.”
Right. He’s her boyfriend and my frat brother.
The door opens and she slips out, her arm brushing against my chest. I follow, sucking down the electricity between us.
She blows out a breath. “I know what this is, why you’re being nice to me—”
“Yeah? Tell me, because I can’t figure it out,” I snap, annoyed she won’t open up while the other side is pissed at myself for asking. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t…” I stop, my jaw clenching.
She stops at the door to class and faces me. “Your paper. I’m sorry I can’t help you, I really am. I love helping others, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us…” She bites her lip, her gaze avoiding mine. “There’s something about you and me—” She halts and looks down at her feet. “Anyway, I know a few students who tutor athletes. Let me give you their names—”
“No one but you, Anastasia.”
“What? Why?”
Instinct takes over and I back her against the wall, towering over her. I tilt her chin up, and she doesn’t speak or move, just breathing fast, as my hand slides around to her nape. A hum of heat goes through my body as my hands tangle in her hair.
“River…what…” Pink rises on her cheeks as her lashes flutter.
Every time, I’m pushing a little more, the dark side of me winning. Monday. Her apartment. Now.
I could kiss her right now, but it’s wrong, immensely, and I’m being bad, so bad…
She gazes up at me, her eyes flaring, the gold around her pupils darkening. She swallows as goose bumps appear on her neck.
A primal sound builds in my throat.
Anger.
Frustration.
Loyalty.
Dammit. I shouldn’t be this close, shouldn’t touch her—
“I’ll wait.” I grind my teeth and step back.
Her lips part, a small puff of air coming out. She looks at my mouth. “For what?”
The lethal side of me, the one itching to play this game no matter the consequences, tries to take over and speak the truth. I shove it down.
You, I say in my head.
Leaving her there, I sweep past her and go to my seat.
Five fucking rows back.
About Ilsa Madden-Mills Wall Street Journal, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies.
Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top 10 Best-seller List: Dirty English #1; Fake Fiancée and I Dare You #2; I Bet You, Filthy English, and Very Bad Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4.
A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice, and of course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero.
She’s addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets, and any book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk her online.
Join her Unicorn Girls Group on FB, the best way to keep up: http://bit.ly/37B6Nay Sign up for phone alert for book releases (max of 4) Text ROMANCE to 21000
CHECK OUT THE OTHER STANDALONES IN THE SERIES!
Best-selling authors Ilsa Madden-Mills, Meghan Quinn and Adriana Locke,deliver three stand-alone romances about college football players finding true love while on the verge of losing everything.
THE ROMANTIC PACT by Meghan Quinn Release Date: December 10th
Synopsis: I haven’t seen her in three years.
I haven’t talked to her since the kiss.
So why am I on a plane, flying across the world to spend a week with her in Germany?
One word: Pops.
My life’s a mess. My possible football career is hanging on by a thread. I’m driving the roads of Germany in honor of Pops with the one girl I can never have. And I’m sharing a bed with her, the girl I’ve measured everyone else up to, while desperately trying to not to touch her.
We made a pact growing up, never to get romantic with each other – never fall in love.
THE RELATIONSHIP PACT by Adriana Locke Release Date: December 17th
Synopsis How hard can it be?
That was the question rolling around Larissa Mason’s mind just before she asked Hollis Hudson to be her fake boyfriend.
It was only supposed to be for five minutes, after all.
Granted, that was also before she felt his hand on the small of her back as he charmed the heck out of her family.
She hadn’t heard his laugh yet either.
And it was definitely before she saw the football god shirtless. Otherwise, she would’ve had an idea of just how hard some things could be.
It turns out that pretending to be in love with a crazily handsome, somewhat enigmatic, and absolutely unforgettable tight end (that has an amazing tight end) is easy.
Reminding herself that just because opposites attract doesn’t mean they’re forever is much harder.
What they have isn’t love—it’s a relationship pact. Right?
“H. Hunting pens a heartbreaking tale that leaves readers absolutely breathless from beginning to end. One of her best books yet!” – Stacey Lynn, author
Little Lies, an all-new, angsty and emotional new adult romance from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting writing as H. Hunting is out now!
I don’t want you. You mean nothing to me. I never loved you. I turned my words into swords. And I cut her down. Shoved the blade in and watched her fall. I said I’d never hurt her, and I did. Years later, I’m faced with all the little lies, the untruths, the false realities, the damage I inflicted, when all I wanted was to indulge my obsession. Lavender Waters is the princess in the tower. Even her name is the thing fairy tales are made of. I used to be the one who saved her. Over and over again. But I don’t want to save her anymore. I just want to pretend the lies are still the truth.
The front door swings open, and the never-ending nightmare that is this day smacks me in the face like a long-expired sausage. Kodiak stands in the doorway wearing only a pair of swim shorts, wet hair sticking out all over the place, water dripping on the damn floor. But God, is he ever glorious. Muscle layered over muscle, thick biceps flexing as he holds the doorjamb, a mischievous grin popping the dimple in his left cheek. My heart seizes and gallops. I miss this version of him: the one that smiles and doesn’t hate me. He ruins everything a moment later by bellowing, “Who’s fucking in the driveway?” His gaze moves to Dylan, who looks as horrified as I feel, but as it shifts to me, his smile drops and my stomach tightens. “You should really go,” I tell Dylan. “I’ll see you around.” He disappears into his car and barely has the door closed before he’s backing out of the driveway and screeching down the street. I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and head for the house, steeling my spine and my nerves because Kodiak is still standing in the middle of the doorway, his face a mask of indifference. I try to brush by him, but he stays where he is, making it impossible. I sigh, exhausted beyond belief. I just want to go upstairs and have a good, cathartic cry. I try to mirror his apathy. “Can you move so I can get into my house?” His brow furrows as his eyes move over my face. He lifts his hand, like maybe he’s thinking about touching me. There’s no way I can handle that. I jerk back and swat his hand away. “What are you doing?” “Your lip is bleeding.” “Don’t act like you actually give a shit, Kodiak.” “Tell me what happened.” His voice is low and soft, and for whatever reason, that makes me even angrier, so I lash out, wanting to wound him the way he keeps wounding me. “You, Kodiak. You happened, and you ruined my goddamn life. Now get the hell out of my way.” I elbow past him, almost tripping over several sets of running shoes. I head straight for my bedroom and lock the door behind me. I slide down the wall until my butt hits the floor and close my eyes, taking deep breaths. I imagined the concern in his voice. I imagined the pain that sat heavy behind his eyes. We see what we want to, not the truth, especially when it hurts.
About Helena Hunting
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
A coming-of-age tale of loss, love, and redemption.
The Prince and the Pawn, the epic finale of When Rivals Play from bestselling author B.B. Reid is LIVE!
They were wrong for each other from the start.
The jock and the nerd, what a cliché they made.
He was the town prince, and she was a nobody.
Tyra Bradley was invisible.
That is until she told him he needed some manners, and so began their game of cat and mouse.
She ran, he chased.
It was perfect.
Except Vaughn Rees has a deep, dark secret. Promised to the NFL, but fated for something sinister, Vaughn knows she’s forbidden fruit. To want more is to tempt death. He’s already in too deep.
When a betrayal unravels their fragile ties, the good girl runs as fast as she can. What Tyra doesn’t know? They’re a siren’s song. She can run, but they’ll always be bound.
They’re two souls torn apart and mended by fate. And now…Vaughn isn’t the only one with a secret.
Download your copy now or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Each novel depicts a different and completely unique romance. However, the stories and their plots are connected. It’s recommended that you read them in order for the full reading experience beginning with The Peer and the Puppet then The Moth and The Flame.
About B.B. Reid: B.B. Reid is a bestselling author of new adult romance. She grew up the only daughter and middle child in a small town in North Carolina. After graduating with a Bachelors in Finance, she started her career at an investment research firm while continuing to serve in the National Guard. She currently resides in Charlotte with her moody cat and enjoys collecting Chuck Taylors and binge-eating chocolate. Please visit her website for more information: http://www.bbreid.com
BEDTIME QUICKIES: TAKE ME TO BED is LIVE! All proceeds will be donated to the International Network of Hearts. #OneClick today!
BLURB
Got time for a Quickie?
Grab your ereader and snuggle up with your favorite authors as they come together to bring you a collection like no other.
From steamy to sweet, contemporary to paranormal, and everything in between, you won’t want to miss hooking up with these exclusive new romance stories.
All proceeds will be donated to the International Network of Hearts, a non-profit organization brings communities and governments together to help rescue women and children from human trafficking and sexual violence.
Participating authors:
A.C. Williams, A.M. Wilson, AJ Alexander, Alex Grayson, Ali Dean, Amali Rose, Anna Bishop Barker, Anna Brooks, Aurora Rose Reynolds, Brittany Crowley, Cary Hart, Cassandra Robbins, Claire C. Riley, Danielle Norman, DM Earl, Erica Marselas, Esther E. Schmidt, Flora Burgos, Freya Barker, Gianna Gabriela, Heidi McLaughlin, HL Nighbor, JD Hollyfield, Jessica Marin, K.L. Clare, Kally Ash, KL Donn, Lauren Dawes, Lia Fairchild, Meagan Brandy, Melissa Toppen, Michelle Dare, Monica DeSimone, S.L. Sterling, S.R. Grey, Shari J. Ryan, Sienna Snow, Yolanda Olson
All proceeds will be donated to the International Network of Hearts, a non-profit organization brings communities and governments together to help rescue women and children from human trafficking and sexual violence.
To celebrate the release of Bedtime Quickies: Take Me to Bed, the authors have a sherpa blanket and a hardcover copy of the collection for one winner and a paperback for a second winner!
“Hold on with both hands because you’re about to experience the ride of a lifetime. All the stars for this masterpiece.”
-Marni Mann, USA Today Bestselling Author
The Life You Stole, the compelling and stunning conclusion to the binge worthy Life Duet from Jewel E. Ann, is available now!
Sex.
Lies.
Revenge.
On the heels of a devastating loss, Evelyn fights to put her life back together.
Only … part of her husband belongs to another woman, and the devil owns her soul.
“If you tell her the lie, I will tell her the truth.”
When her best friend goes to great lengths to protect Evelyn from destruction and devastation, mistakes are made, lines are crossed, and all trust is shattered.
“We weren’t unbreakable.
I just needed to believe we weren’t unrepairable.”
I jumped, shutting my computer, and glanced up at Graham paused at the threshold to my room, loosening his red tie. He always looked handsome in a suit and that red tie I gave him for his birthday. I didn’t expect to see him. My assistant said he was at the Governor’s Mansion. I rarely stayed there, but he used it as an occasional “getaway.” Probably from me. So when she told me he was there, I made the assumption (actually hoped) he’d decided to stay the night and get some work done.
“It’s not even seven.” I tucked my bare feet beneath me, still wearing my navy skirt suit and silk scarf—my long hair in loose curls down my back and around my shoulders just like Graham liked it.
He took calculated steps toward me, completely untying his tie, letting it drop to the floor before working the buttons to his starchy white shirt. I tried to forget my internet search, not that it mattered because I couldn’t hide anything from my husband. He elicited a warring of emotions from me. An icy tingle slithered along my spine, making every muscle rigid, while the warmth in my heart fed on the way my pulse reacted to his proximity, the way it always had done. That never changed. It was how I knew we weren’t broken.
“Did you miss me?” He smirked, shrugging off his shirt, revealing his defined torso—abs for days beneath a thin smattering of dark hair on his chest.
I was the envy of so many women. Every day I reminded myself of that.
“Nice scarf.” He knelt in front of the chair.
I returned a nervous smile, hoping the man before me was the man I loved. Graham untied the scarf, sliding it from my neck as slowly as he’d slid off his tie just seconds earlier. The scarf floated to the floor. Gentle fingers swept my hair off my shoulders, exposing my neck.
With the same feather’s touch, he traced the bruises. “It’s nothing …” His lips replaced his fingers, kissing my neck. “You’re fine. Right?”
I wanted to believe him. Could denial become truth if we just believed hard enough?
“I’m fine,” I murmured, closing my eyes.
“Want me to show you how much I missed you?” he whispered next to my ear.
Was he asking me for permission? Governor Graham demanded me. Pre-marriage, pre-Governor Graham asked … begged me to surrender to him.
About Jewel
Jewel is a free-spirited romance junkie with a quirky sense of humor.
With 10 years of flossing lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.
After her best friend of nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.
When she’s not donning her cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.
All Encompassing Books 