(The Wild Rose Press)
Publication date: March 3rd 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense
Annie O’Toole is St. Louis Public Defender, passionate about fighting for the underdog and determined to prove herself as the badass trial lawyer she knows she can be. Getting assigned to defend the kid charged with shooting billionaire businessman, Michael Grayson, is a big step up for her career. At least until the hot guy she seduced at the Justice for All Ball shows up at her office in response to her deposition subpoena. Turns out the sexy stranger who introduced himself only as ‘Mick’, the guy she’s been fantasizing about since slipping away while he slept — is none other than the billionaire himself, Michael Grayson.
She’s horrified. He’s furious. He thinks she set him up. She thinks he’s an arrogant ass in a Savile Row suit. Sparks, intrigue, and bullets fly in a mix of swoon and suspense as the two battle each other, the bad guys, and an off-limits attraction neither can ignore. When the evidence leads back into Michael’s inner corporate circle, the two are plunged into a world of international intrigue, corporate espionage, and murder — with a side dish of unresolved family drama as Annie is forced to turn to the only expert in corporate intrigue she knows, her own uber-wealthy, estranged grandmother. Now all she has to do is solve the case, escape her grandmother’s plans to take over her life (again), and save her client, her career, and the man whose lifestyle she despises . . . and whose touch she can’t forget.
Michael wouldn’t have been surprised to see actual sparks flashing from her fingertips, given the effect of her touch on his skin. He pulled her against him, his hands sliding down over her hips to cup her ass, drinking in the feel and smell of her. But without her heels, she barely reached the middle of his chest. He grabbed her hand and led her to the bed.
“Climb up,” he ordered. “I want you at eye level.”
She laughed. “I’m not that short.”
He wrapped a fist in her tousled curls and pulled her to him. Bending his mouth to her ear, he sunk his teeth into her earlobe. She jumped.
“Get on the damn bed,” he whispered into her ear.
She scrambled onto the bed.
“Much better,” he murmured.
He ran his hands up her thighs until his fingers brushed the tiny swath of lace beneath the shimmering fabric of her dress. She inhaled sharply as he slid his fingers between the lace and the silk of her skin. He loved the way her breath hitched at his touch. He slid the lace slowly down her legs.
“I think you just stole my turn,” she breathed, her palms on his shoulders as she stepped out of the thong.
“Royal prerogative. The prince makes the rules— and can change them.” He let the lace fall to the floor and ran his fingers lightly back up her legs, enjoying the subtle shifting of her body in response to his touch.
“Don’t princesses get to make rules too?” she murmured, her eyes closed. “Or am I Cin—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips, cutting her off mid-syllable. “Sin is exactly what you are…temptation incarnate.”
Her lips curved. “My, you do credit me with extraordinary powers.”
He brushed his lips beneath her earlobe. “How would you feel about turning those extraordinary powers over to me for the night?”
She opened her eyes. It appeared to take a bit of an effort. “Hmm?”
“Are you amenable to being my royal subject for the night?”
She stilled. A beat of silence stretched between them.
“Depends on what you mean. Are we talking ‘safe word’ kind of subject?” she finally asked.
He smiled. “No safe word required.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that because you are the serial killer I suspected and I’m going to die no matter what?”
He clicked his tongue. “Damn. Shouldn’t have used my credit card to pay for this room. What was I thinking?” His hands moved to her waist, and he kissed the hollow of her neck. “Looks like I’ll have to let you survive the night after all.” He traced a slow finger down to where her cleavage disappeared in the fabric of her dress. She shivered. His pulse kicked up a beat.
“So?” he asked again.
She shot him a half-apologetic look. “I’m not a very compliant person.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, but that’s what makes it interesting. Stepping out of your comfort zone heightens the experience.” His fingertip slowly circled first one nipple, then the other, through her dress.
Her eyes fluttered closed. “You make it really hard to think straight.”
He stepped back, lifting his hands up in the air. “Far be it from me to confuse the decision-making process. Take all the time you need.”
She shot him an exasperated look, then bit her lower lip, considering him. Finally, a half-smile flitted across those lips. “What the hell—so long as no safe words are required—long live the prince.”
His cock saluted her decision. Affecting a calm neither he nor his anatomy felt, he moved away from her and sat in the chair by the window. Crossing one ankle over his knee, he took his sweet time perusing her, his gaze raking her body. She fidgeted.
“Stand still,” he ordered.
She froze.
He let the tension build for a long minute, then said. “Take off your dress. Slowly.”
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About Author Cat Jameson:
Cat Jameson is a writer of contemporary romance novels packed with equal parts suspense, snark, and spice. A native Missourian, she moved to St. Louis to attend law school, sure only that she didn’t want to practice criminal law or be a trial lawyer. So of course, she became a career criminal defense lawyer who spent decades teaching trial techniques to other criminal lawyers around the country. (“We make plans. The gods laugh.”)
Cat spent most of her legal career in St. Louis and the city features prominently in her books, as does her experience in criminal law. Today, she resides in Columbia, Missouri — ‘the middle of the middle of flyover country’ — where she is deep into her second act as co-owner of a metaphysical bookstore.
When not writing, shopkeeping, or playing with grandkids, Jameson is most likely to be road-tripping with her best friend and business partner in a ten-year-old van named Woo — stopping at every bookstore and thrift shop along the way, loading up on things they do not need and have no room for.
Ten years ago, Reagan’s friend died in a tragic accident.
But what if it wasn’t an accident?
The morning after a raging college graduation party, we found Lanie Martin
lying at the bottom of a ravine, her neck snapped in a fatal fall. And I’m not
proud of what came next.
Before we called the police, we covered ourselves. Cleaned up from the blow-out
at Ella’s cabin in the Adirondacks the night before. Got our stories straight.
Ella begged me not to tell the police what I saw. She insisted that it was an
accident—and we all went along. What did I know? I was plastered that night,
and large chunks of that evening are missing for me.
But now, in my postpartum state, memories are starting to return, and I can’t
help but feel that they might be connected to the soul crushing depression I’ve
been experiencing. Is it guilt? Or do I know more than I think I do?
So when I receive Ella’s invitation for a ten-year reunion at her family camp—a
gathering of remembrance and healing, she’s calling it—I know I have to go.
Are the memories I’m struggling to recover the key to my moving on? To being
able to take care of my infant son and stay married to the perfect man?
Or are they a death sentence for me, too?
“The Unforgetting is a great read filled with tension on every
page, stunning twist after twist, and a mind-blowing ending that you’ll never
see coming. Highly recommended!” – R.G. Belsky, author of the Clare
Carlson series.
“The Unforgetting is a riveting, twisty, slow-burn atmospheric
thriller that will delight and disturb, in the best possible ways. Highly
recommended.” Douglas Corleone, international bestselling author of Falls
to Pieces
Gyrating to the rhythm of the blaring music, I want to be one with the flames. They dance in a way I envy, shooting up and down in sharp angles, casting shadows over the partiers, giving them a ghoulish look. Some of the people I know. Many I don’t. We twist and writhe and merge with the music.
Nirvana.
So fitting.
The smell of burning wood permeates my nostrils, mixing with reefer and patchouli oil. Embers float down like sparkling rubies in the twinkling night sky. A red-hot one lands on my shoulder. I bat it off, singeing the hairs on my hand, but I don’t flinch.
This is what the afterlife must feel like. When you become a bodiless bundle of energy, no longer tethered to the corporal world, free to roam around the atmosphere.
A blood-curdling scream comes from…somewhere.
Something bad is happening.
But we don’t stop.
We can’t stop.
We keep dancing and laughing and soon the flames are too hot and it’s not fun anymore and I think maybe, just maybe, that was my scream I heard in the woods.
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Bonnie Traymore is the award-winning, Amazon best selling
author of page-turner mystery/thrillers that hit close to home. Her books
feature strong but relatable female protagonists. The plots explore difficult
topics such as jealousy, infidelity, murder, and the impact of psychological
disorders, but she also includes bits of romance and humor to lighten the mood
from time to time. She’s an active status member of International Thriller
Writers and Mystery Writers of America.
The Case of the Christie Conspiracy: A Detection Club Mystery Historical Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting – London, England Publisher : Boldwood Books (February 16, 2025) Paperback : 264 pages ISBN-10 : 1836175469 ISBN-13 : 978-1836175469 Digital ASIN : B0DFXWPCFP
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Agatha Christie is about to embark on a new, gripping murder case. But this time, she’s not the author – she’s a suspect…
1926 – Christie is a darling of the literary circuit and the most desired guest in London’s glittering social scene. She can often be found at meetings of the Detection Club – where mystery writers come together to share ideas, swap secrets and drink copiously. But then a fellow author’s initiation ceremony takes a gruesome turn, and one of the group ends up dead. Now, Agatha is no longer just the creator of great mystery plots – she’s a player in one.
And when Agatha disappears the day after the murder, she’s widely assumed to be guilty. Only Eliza Baker, assistant to the Club’s enigmatic secretary, Dorothy Sayers, is interested in investigating the case. But in a world where murder is the ultimate plot device, can Eliza piece together the evidence and find the killer before it’s too late?
About Kelly Oliver
Kelly Oliver is the award-winning and bestselling author of four mystery series: The Jessica James Mysteries (7-book contemporary suspense); The Pet Detective Mysteries (3-book middle grade); The Fiona Figg Mysteries (9-book historical cozies).
The Case of the Christie Conspiracy, the first in her new series The Detection Club Mysteries just came out (February 2025).
Kelly is Distinguished Emerita Professor of Philosophy at Vanderbilt University. And currently, she is the Immediate Past President of Sisters in Crime. To learn more about Kelly and her books, go to www.kellyoliverbooks.com.
A Side Dish of Death (Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries)
by T. C. LoTempio
A Side Dish of Death (Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries) Cozy Mystery 5th in Series Setting – Connecticut Publisher : Beyond the Page Publishing (February 25, 2025) Print length : 257 pages Digital ASIN : B0DW4JDTH5
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When a celebrity chef is murdered, Shell McMillan has to cook up a plan to trap the killer of a man for all seasonings . . .
With adopt-a-cat month in full swing in Fox Hollow, pet shop owner Shell McMillan decides that hosting a night of murder mystery dinner theater will be a fun way to raise funds for the cause. But she didn’t realize that the celebrity chef she’d hired for the event would turn out to be a tyrannical snob, or that her scoundrel of an ex-fiancé would turn up with his own shady agenda. Still, the show must go on, and as the lighthearted plot on-stage unfolds, the scene off-stage turns decidedly darker when the chef is found murdered.
Rather than question an entire roomful of possible suspects, Shell determines that looking into the victim’s past will lead her to the culprit more quickly. What she finds is that the chef had left behind a disreputable past and a trail of disgruntled people, including a long string of women he’d wronged and a host of others who may have been out for revenge. But as Shell closes in on the killer, the killer is closing in on her. And she’s discovering that while too many cooks can spoil the broth, being a murderer’s next target can really ruin your appetite . . .
About Toni Lotempio
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While Toni Lotempio does not commit – or solve – murders in real life, she has no trouble doing it on paper. Her lifelong love of mysteries began early on when she was introduced to her first Nancy Drew mystery at age 10 – The Secret in the Old Attic. She and her cat pen the Nick and Nora mystery series originally from Berkley Prime Crime and now with Beyond the Page Publishing. They also write the Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries and the Tiffany Austin Food Blogger Mysteries, also available from Beyond the Page. A new series, Cozy Bookshop Mysteries, debuts from Severn House in July. Catch up with them at ROCCO’s blog, www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com, or her website, www.tclotempio.net
On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of
the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical
mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining
genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the
exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…
Chaos rules the city of Glynfyls.
And all Flynn Scot can do is watch. With the hill frozen in
the shadow of the coming Incursion, and the commons giving into a bacchanal
madness, the city’s chances of survival are dire. His hands tied by mandates,
in order to do what he knows is right and give them a fighting chance, Flynn
will have to risk everything by doing wrong.
Meanwhile, Kara can’t hide her declining health.
The Triam’s location remains elusive, and the window to get
the treatment she needs is closing. Unwilling to give in, or idly await her
fate, she hatches a daring plan to help save the city, even if it ends up
destroying her politically.
Because Titus’s army is marching closer to Glynfyls, and
they’re not alone.
With them comes a monster that threatens not only the city,
but the entire Breaker hierarchy. As the world watches on tenterhooks, Flynn
and Kara race against the clock to save their people, but there’s no guarantee
they can save themselves.
Flynn’s bedroom door slammed open and the lights flicked on.
“Get up.”
The hell? He blinked, lifting his aching head to glare at Rogan. Man looked even more beat to shit now that the bruising from their fight had set in. One side of his jaw was twice the size it should be, and he didn’t look any happier to be standing there than Flynn was to see him.
“Fuck off,” he growled, his arms tightening around Kara. She murmured in her sleep, a “V” pinching between her brows as she snuggled against his chest.
Rogan laughed. “Wish I could, kid, but Titus’s troops are crossing the border, the city’s burning down again, cattle are running riot through the streets—” He swiped up a pair of pants from the floor and chucked them at Flynn. “—and we’re on fire brigade.”
Goddamn it.
“Are you serious?” he hissed, catching them as he pushed up to sit.
Kara huffed and curled into a little ball, out cold despite the asshole’s bullshit. Flynn frowned, but wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t slept at all the night after succumbing, and he damned well knew the toll of unmaking the damage Otto had done to her bitch mother was more than Kara was letting on.
Rogan’s gaze dropped to her bared shoulder and slid down her back to the blankets pooling around her hips. His tongue flicked over his lip. “Think I’d be in here otherwise?”
Flynn growled, ripping a blanket up to cover her. If that motherfucker even thought about—goddamn it. Man had just handed Flynn his own ass in front of the entire Breaker line. If Rogan, the Alpha fucking Prime, wanted to challenge for her, he’d win, and they both knew it.
So did the thing growling in the recesses of Flynn’s psyche, its hackles raised. Wasn’t conducive to him being in a particularly cooperative mood.
He slung his legs over the side of the mattress, talent crackling around his fingers. Goddamn it. That didn’t help either. He snuffed the sparks in his fists and pulled on his pants. Fabric was still sticky with gore. What time was it? His eyes found the clock as he zipped up. A little after two in the morning. Didn’t this fucking city sleep? “When did Titus cross the border?”
“Vanguard’s a couple hundred miles in and moving fast,” Rogan said as he reached down to scritch behind Hiss’s ears. Stupid cat let him. “Stonefist called Quorum. I was on my way to wake your ass up for that when the fire broke out. Shit’s officially hit the fan.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Flynn grabbed a shirt and kicked into his boots, still glowering at Rogan. Asshole shot another look at Kara before he flashed that goddamned grin and backed from the room. Flynn killed the lights and just stopped himself from slamming the door shut. God, he hated that prick.
“What the hell are they rioting about now?” he asked, smacking the button for the lift.
Rogan shrugged and stepped in. “They’re throwing one hell of a party on the lower rungs, but this ain’t that, far as I can tell. Heard somebody say a cow kicked over a lantern, and it’s Chicago all over again.”
“Chicago?” Flynn asked, hitting the button for the main floor.
The Breaker rolled his eyes. “You know, big fire, O’Leary’s—never mind. All you need to worry about is it putting it out.” He pushed past him as the lift door opened and stalked toward the gate.
Flynn’s temper spiked and his talent sparked with it. “Me? How am I supposed to—” He stopped to scuff out a patch of smoldering carpet. Christ, that was getting old.
“Right there all the time, isn’t it?”
Flynn scowled. “Yeah. Weren’t you gonna do something about that?” Talent flared around his fingers again, and he swore.
Rogan sighed, glancing at the gate. “Right. How do you control your Shade ability?”
Was he an idiot? “Control my—I don’t. It’s not like—I gotta pull it to use it. They call it cloaking for a reason. It’s like gathering—whatever, it doesn’t matter. I asked about this Breaker shit.”
“Everything matters. Nothing’s important.”
“Did you just quote Nietzsche?”
Breaker cocked an eyebrow. “Did you just call me out for quoting Nietzsche?”
“Christ, you’re a dick.”
“You should talk. Look, in case you haven’t figured it out, Breaker talent isn’t static. It’s tied to your emotions, just like bloodlust. The fact that you’re as moody as a teenaged girl doesn’t help.”
Flynn glared at the man, his teeth gritting together at another flare of talent. “Then what do you suggest?”
“You know anything about physics?” Flynn’s eyes narrowed, and Rogan sighed. “Look, I’m not any more thrilled about this arrangement than you are, so let’s do it and have done. Easiest way for me to explain it is to equate Breaker talent to Ohm’s law—”
“Ionic flow. Got it. Energy is dissipated as heat. Then what?”
Rogan’s brow raised. “Then you reach equilibrium by dissipating it, maintaining the state by breathing the potential out, and letting talent cycle through you,” the Breaker said. “You don’t let it build until you need it.”
“How the hell do I do that?”
Rogan made a come hither motion. “Watch and learn.”
They stepped through the gate and into hell. Flynn wiped his brow, his skin abruptly too tight. Smoke seared down his throat and hung thick in the air, stinging his eyes and occluding the morass of standing water and hard baked sludge coating the street. The haze softened the edges of the blaze as a line of Fixers fought to keep it in stasis, while every Fetch able to shift an oxygen molecule battled to snuff the flames. Their crimson blue flicker and the silver and bronze glow of talent warred, filling the streets with an unearthly glow. Within the thin shell of talent, booms shook the ground. A rain of smoldering debris peppered the street, and a fucking cow ran by.
Rogan held out a hand to him, and Flynn scowled. “Thanks, Gramps, but I promise I’m big enough not to get lost.”
“Asshole. I want you to feel how I channel the fire’s potential.”
“I gotta hold your hand to do it?”
“I can put my foot up your ass if you’d prefer.”
Flynn eyed the man’s outstretched hand. Something big exploded, accompanied by a whomp of flame
“Take your time. Not like there’s any reason to hurry.”
Flynn glared at him and slapped his palm across Rogan’s. The Breaker’s halos flared and talent welled, crackling between them. Instead of something blowing up, it was a steady draw. The raging flames shuddered in response, dying back, and the ground beneath them hummed with a weird vibration. What the hell?
“Feel that?”
“Yeah, what’re you doing?”
Whatever it was, wasn’t easy. Sweat poured from the Breaker, and it wasn’t from the ungodly temperature. His halos bathed everything within a fifty-foot radius a gruesome scarlet. “Acting as a ground,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Like it’s electricity?”
“Yeah. Same principle, and you keep shorting.” He snorted at Flynn’s scowl. “Instead of letting the energy flow to heat, I’m converting the fire’s potential and acting as a conduit, redirecting it out and away. Try reaching for it. If you can call it, you can snuff it, and I could use the help. There’s some kind of accelerant in there—” The ground shook with another series of explosions and hot concrete rained down around them.
Fuck that. Flynn threw up a shield. He pushed it out and away, reinforcing the Fixer’s line. They slumped against one another as he took up the burden, the power of the battering flames sending him back a step. Christ. Yeah, there sure as hell was some kind of accelerant in there. Shit was burning like it was jet fuel. He wiped a hand across his brow, dizzy with the heat.
“Wrong talent, asshole,” Rogan gritted out.
Flynn scowled at him, trying to focus. Reach for the fire…how the fuck was he supposed to…he eased his shield and the sense of it hit him square in the chest. Flynn grunted, stumbling back again.
“Yeah, no shit. Now let it flow through you and ground it out.”
Flynn took a shaky breath; the intensity of that potential Rogan had been talking about was crushing. How the fuck was he handling all that? Man should be a blackened smear—
“Anytime now, kid.” Rogan grimaced.
Shit. Flynn’s jaw tensed, trying to take a hold—he eased his shield again and the flames surged forward. He slammed it back up and the fire’s potential bypassed him, arcing from his grip. Christ, he couldn’t—
“Kara still make that little noise when she comes?”
Flynn’s shield disintegrated as the blaze’s potential flooded into him with his rage. It built, his hair standing on end. He was gonna kill—
“Ground it!”
—that motherfucker. Flynn bellowed, channeling the fire’s potential into the ground along with what Rogan was converting. The street buckled and the surrounding buildings listed. The two men fell to their knees, the inferno sucking down like someone had pulled its string, guttering.
Rogan collapsed to sit, swiping a hand over his brow. “Not bad—”
Flynn’s fist took him in the jaw, knocking him back. “Anything about that ever comes out of your mouth again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“No promises.” Asshole chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth as he sat up. “And don’t expect it to go any better than your last attempt…but you’re welcome to keep trying.”
God, he hated him. Flynn’s brows furrowed, taking in the smoking ruins. At the far end of the block, Markham spoke to a group of Fetches. He patted one of them on the shoulder, and they staggered off, too exhausted to shift away.
Flynn knew how they felt. His insides were hollow with what’d just gone through him. His glower deepened as his eyes flicked to Rogan. Shithead had baited him, again, and he’d played right into his hands, again. Goddamn his fucking temper. That thing inside him…it was too fucking close. Flynn frowned, staring at his palms, the memory of blood staining them. No. Not here. He was safe in the city.
“When you call it, where does the fire come from?” he asked, wiping this hands on his pants and trying to distract himself. “Doesn’t the potential need a catalyst?”
“Look at you all brainy when you’re not taking potshots,” Rogan muttered, rocking his mangled jaw. “That’s a little more complicated, and I’m spent. It’ll wait.”
Flynn’s brows bunched, glaring at the man who’d claimed to be his great-grandfather. Attitude was on point, but any physical resemblance…to him, to Lot. Complexion was all wrong, but maybe something around the eyes…
The man flashed his teeth. “Yes?”
Christ, that was it. That goddamned grin. Flynn looked away. Markham was headed in their direction, albeit at a snail’s pace. “You the one that figured out how it works? The whole electricity thing?”
“A Breaker’s talent? No. Not controlling it, at least. I was pretty hell-bent on everything but. When I was ready to listen, most of the hard work had been done.”
Flynn flicked a bit of rubble away. Asphalt had caved in around them like a giant fist’d smashed into the street. “Did you want it?”
Rogan’s face went stoney. “When the Surge blasted us back to the Dark Ages, people lost their shit, turned on each other. Nobody understood it. Thought the world was coming to an end, God was punishing us…first to espouse the Sons’ ideology were Talents. Turned into a goddamned cult of suicide bombers. You could hear them imploding. See them flare up at night, taking out everything around them until the Corporation showed up with their promise of a cure. So, no. None of us wanted it, but it’s what we got. Didn’t that asshole teach you anything?”
Flynn chewed his lip. “Cal wasn’t around all that much.” Not even when he was.
“What about Lot?”
A surge of temper sent talent flickering around Flynn’s fingers. “What about him?”
“Never mind.” Rogan swore under his breath. “You’re clamping down and getting all pent up again. Breathe it through you.”
Flynn let out a slow exhale. Damn, he wanted a cigar. Thinking about his father, his Shade talent coming in… Jesus, that’d been a miserable fucking experience, but at least the only person that’d gotten hurt had been him. Accident or not, he’d killed people when Kara had been abducted. Guilt tamped down his anger, self-loathing rising up to snuff what was left of it. He needed to get a handle on this before he lost his shit again and took out any more of the city. Another incident like that, and the Pinch would be prime real estate.
Rogan’s mouth screwed up like he wanted to ask something and knew he wasn’t gonna like the answer. Goddamn it.
“Look, the less Lot and I see of each other, the better,” Flynn said, beating him to it. “Ascending to head was supposed to be the end of it. Come up here, assume the fucking position, and spend the rest of my life voting on granite curbing.” Shit, that almost sounded good. He kicked away some debris, the warmth of the ruined pavement cozy in comparison to the arctic air battering down the radiant heat.
“Funny. You don’t strike me as a white picket fence, two kids and a dog kind of guy.”
A gust of wind sent a squall thick with ash at them. Flynn put a hand up, keeping it from his eyes and spat the grit from his mouth. He’d take the fence and kids in a heartbeat right about now. The dog could go fuck itself, but the rest of it sounded like a dream come true. “Kara would’ve been happy. Safe.”
Rogan cocked an eyebrow. “Would she?”
A defeated numbness stole over Flynn. Probably not on either count. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. Didn’t want the same things. Christ, what did she want? It pissed him off that figuring it out was taking a backseat to everything else, and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do to change that.
He grimaced as he met Rogan’s eye. “Probably not. I just—It feels like I’m being steamrolled towards something, and no matter what I—” Flynn flushed. What the hell had possessed him to drop that nugget? He mussed ash from his hair, the reality of his goddamned existence weighing him down. The remaining flickers of talent around his fingers drained away. Damn. This shit really was tied to his emotions.
“That’s it. Low and slow. Breathe it out. You get worked up, ground what pulses through you.” Rogan leaned back on his elbows. “The universe usually pushes you for a reason. Why fight it?”
“Because I don’t trust it.”
“No, you don’t trust yourself.” Flynn scowled, and the asshole’s grin was back. “You should. That was good work just now, but it would’ve been better if you’d get over that goddamned reluctance and stop second-guessing yourself. You’re Breaker, kid. Acting on instinct is what we do. Leave the overthinking to the Binders.”
Markham huffed over, and Rogan stood. Flynn rose with him. The only thing his instincts were screaming at him to do was to bury the prick.
Except he’d tried that and failed miserably. Motherfucker. “So, what’s next?”
“Combat nap. Phyllis’s already filed the paperwork to officially step down. Between assuming First, and everything else making up this shit show, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to drink breakfast if I wanna get through the rest of the day.” Rogan frowned, scratching his stubble. “Should probably shave.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “No, I meant talent-wise.”
“Try to not blow anything up until the Source gets here. If there’s an after…” Rogan shrugged. “We’ll work on your control. Start with little shit. Light some candles, break frozen peas.” A smile ghosted over his lips, then he pushed past Flynn with a growl. “Get a handle on your equilibrium first.”
Man stalked to the gate and was gone. What the hell had that been about?
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**FREEBIE ALERT!**
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Get a free bonus novella, Conspirator at the back of the book!
AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases
coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a
certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not
reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.
Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to
become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time.
She pays the bills editing, wielding a wicked hot pink pen
and writing a column on SFF. She also belongs to the Authors Guild, is a
chapter treasurer for the RWA, teaches creative writing, and on the rare
occasion, sleeps.
Headstrong siblings, fated mates, a grandmother’s love, and enemies thirsting for revenge.
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Saved by the Wolf
The McCullough Pack Book 1
by Nola Li Barr
Genre: Sweet Paranormal Romance
A Sweet Paranormal Romance Complete Series
Fate brought us together, but the scars of our pasts threaten to tear us
apart.
Jill
The moment I hear his voice, something inside me shifts. He seems to reach
right into my soul, and suddenly, all I want is to be near him, to feel safe in
his arms. But I’ve been down this road before. My last relationship left me
broken, bruised, and wary. And the way his friends hang on his every word? It’s
too familiar—too much like my past.
Still, there’s an undeniable connection between us. My heart whispers that he’s
different, that he’s the one I’ve been waiting for. But how can I trust it when
my head is screaming to run?
Luc
She’s shy, quiet . . . human. Not someone my wolf should be drawn to, but he
is. When I’m near her, my wolf is calm, content, and all he wants is to claim
her as mine. But I’ve sworn off love. I know too well the pain of a broken
heart, and I promised myself I wouldn’t go through that again.
Yet, no matter how much I try to push her away, my wolf won’t let me. She’s the
one, and every fiber of my being knows it.
Saved by the Wolf is the first book in the McCullough Pack series—a
heart-tugging, sweet paranormal romance with all the love, none of the spice,
and a guaranteed happily ever after.
I took a deep breath and walked to the bar, content on hearing her heartbeat and knowing she was okay. I’d catch the next dance; no need to burst her bubble just yet.
By the time I came back, though, she was already dancing with another man, and she was absolutely glowing and having the time of her life. Then the first guy came back again, and she readily let him pull her against him and dance to the next song too.
My heart couldn’t take this. I was a fool to have come here. She was perfectly fine without me. Why in the world did I let my brothers get to me? They knew nothing about love or how much it hurt to be left behind, to be discarded like you had never meant anything to that person. I’d vowed I wouldn’t let a girl do that to me ever again. Yet here I was . . . .
I turned and left. She’d be just fine. No side-stop at an ice cream parlor tonight. No chance of looking into dark warm eyes and luscious lips that had the cutest pout when she was thinking. My wolf was clawing to get out, and I would let it. There was no need for me to be here anymore—no reason for me to have ever come!
I ran toward the woods and shifted, howling a lone tune as soon as I was deep into the trees.
.
.
Loved by the Wolf
The McCullough Pack Book 2
*Originally
published under Nola Li Gordon. The whole series is now under Nola Li Barr.
He loves me . . . He loves me not . . .
Becca
I’ve loved
him for years and thought the feeling was mutual. But when I lean in to kiss
him on our first date, he recoils, claiming he only loves me like a sister.
He breaks my
heart that night.
Every bone in
my body is telling me to leave—to start a new life in a new place. A place
without him in it.
But I must be
a masochist because no matter what I tell myself, I cannot stay away from him .
. .
Brandon
She is my
mate. My wolf knows it.
Ever since
she kissed me, my wolf has been clawing at me to claim her. It is becoming
harder and harder to control myself.
Because I
can’t claim her.
My past
haunts me with reminders of my failures. She’s better off without me. The best
I can do is be her protector—if I can even do that . . . .
Set
against a backdrop of a tight-knit family, this friends-to-lovers story is
filled with all the love without the spice, and a guaranteed happily ever
after.
*Originally published under Nola Li Gordon. The whole series is now under
Nola Li Barr.
All is fair in love and war.
Millie
I’m the responsible sister. The one my family relies on. It’s the reason I’m
standing in for my sister, instead of going on my well-deserved vacation.
My day brightens when he walks in. I try to act professional, but he stands
close, and his eyes never leave me.
When he leaves, I tell myself he’ll soon forget about me. But on a visit to my
friend, he’s there to greet me. This time, I’m the one who can’t look away.
I’m only enjoying his company. Nothing can go wrong.
Jacob
I’m the planner of my family, and with war coming to my pack, I must prepare
for it. But my wolf is restless, wanting what my elder brothers have—a mate.
When I see her, my wolf screams she’s the one, and I feel the urge to claim
her. I push him down and manage to leave, but thoughts of her continue to
bombard me every day.
A day later, my brother pays her a visit, and on his return, he starts acting .
. . odd. Once my partner in crime, now he’s looking at me as his enemy.
Suddenly, everything goes wrong.
Enter a world where the strength of a family lies not only with its pack but
also with their soulmates. A world filled with all the love without the spice,
and a guaranteed happily ever after.
Nola Li Barr writes sweet family saga romances. Both in
contemporary and paranormal/fairy tale settings. She loves to explore family
dynamics with her characters and see them fall in love, most of the time with
someone they’d never deem possible. In the hopes of sharing her stories with
her kids sooner than later, her romances are always sweet with a happily ever
after. When she’s not writing she can be found reading, baking, and navigating
the path of motherhood. Follow her on social media @nolalibarr or visit nolalibarr.com.
(Masonry, Magic, and Love, #1)
Publication date: March 4th 2022
Genres: Paranormal, Romance
No Steam! No Spice! Gargoyles are immovable statues of stone. Lifeless, the librarian thought, until one of them takes flight to save her from an untimely demise.
A kindhearted but lonely librarian. Nancy is drowning under the weight of an abusive boyfriend, failing grades, and looming unemployment. While at work, she confides her deepest, darkest secrets to the gargoyle perched near her desk. But she’s unprepared when the strange stone statue comes to life.
A gentle gargoyle born under a curse. Treyton can’t believe it. In the past century that he’s been guarding the beloved Victorian library he calls home, the lonesome man never had anyone notice him until now. And he’s enchanted by the beautiful woman yearning for true love under his watchful gaze. But the witch who gave him life wants him back. And she’s willing to kill anyone who stands in her way.
As his vile witch plots against them, will Nancy and Treyton be torn apart forever, or can they overcome the evil threatening their love — and their lives?
They were bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching howls filled with nothing but pain. It was unlike anything Nancy had ever heard before.
Gasping for breath, Nancy’s eyes flew open. She pitched forward and peered around her with bleary eyes, trying to figure out which of her neighbors must have been shrieking … but instead of her ceiling and her warm blankets, she found herself lying in a heap on the side of a dirt road.
Above her, gray clouds swirled through the frigid night. Snowflakes drifted down and clung to her lashes and her hair.
Why was she outside? The last thing she remembered was diving into bed after Diana left.
Panic filled her as she rolled clumsily onto her arms and knees, finding her legs twisted and tangled in endless yards of fabric. It was only when she managed to drag herself to her feet by gripping a lantern-lit street post that she realized she was no longer in her Wonder Woman pajamas. She was dressed in a long-sleeved frock that swirled around her ankles. She grabbed at the thick fabric, tugging and pulling at it, until she realized that she was wearing some sort of antiquated dress and a petticoat.
“I must be dreaming,” Nancy whimpered, but she was hardly able to hear herself over the screams still echoing around her.
Her chest heaving, Nancy stumbled down the dirt road. She had to find someone, anyone, to tell her where she was and what was going on. This place was unrecognizable to her. There were only ten houses on this small road, as well as a building Nancy assumed was some sort of general store. There was also something almost familiar about the budding town, though Nancy could not put her finger on what it was—especially when she realized that flames licked up toward the sky from most of the buildings. Heat emanated from them, battling with the wintry chill of the air.
Nancy froze. She could only stare as the townspeople ran around wildly and begged for help. Suddenly, men on horses charged through the village, some swinging swords and guns while others aimed flaming arrows at people and homes.
“The outsiders are attacking!” someone screamed before getting cut down before Nancy’s very eyes.
“No … no!” shrieked Nancy. “Wake up, please! I don’t want to be here anymore!”
.
About Author Gayle Katz:
Daring Women. Dangerous Worlds.
Gayle is a fan of zombies, sci-fi fantasy romance, and psychological horror—though not necessarily in that order. She writes the kinds of books she wants to read but often can’t find. Hoping to scare you, make you swoon, and root for her characters, her love of kick-butt heroines and sassy snark shines through in her work.
Born and raised outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Gayle lives with her husband and they are currently working on their own happily ever after.
MIT OUT SOUND by Rick Lenz Category: Adult Fiction (18 +), 378 pages Genre: Hollywood Tie-in Literary Fiction Publisher: Chromodroid Press Release date: February 2025 Content Rating: PG-13 +M. My book is rated PG-13 + M for swear words, one non-explicit sex scene, adultery and references to abuse and one on page murder.
Book Description:
”It’s time to make a mess,” said Emily.
Would-be movie producer Emily Bennett didn’t believe the legend of a lost movie, starring James Dean and John Wayne. But when she meets two uncannily talented celebrity impersonators-Jimmy Riley and Tom “Duke” Manfredo, and stumbles upon the elusive film editor who stole the master negative of Showdown, it dispels her doubts, fills her with a courage she didn’t know she had, and she sets out to complete the movie.
But as Emily and her stars prepare for day one of shooting, they find themselves entangled in a complex love triangle with Oedipal undertones, mirroring their own past lives and off-screen dynamics. As doubts about their ruthless director, Solange Borugian, surface, Jimmy’s and Duke’s friendship is turned upside down, while Emily and her brother Ben, struggle with their own unresolved issues and are forced to confront their dying father.
On location in Arizona, amidst Apache holy grounds and the magic of day-for-night shooting, the lines between past and present blur and the flawed characters’ backstories intertwine into a tumultuous finale that exposes their hidden animosities, demons, and loves.
When I was a little girl, I’d sit on the floor in the living room, my against the chair my father sat in, the only light illuminating the room coming from the television. The only sound, the actor’s voices. No talking during a western movie. That was when my love for western movies began. And John Wayne. The Duke, loomed larger than life. His baritone drawl. His smile that looks like he knows something you don’t. And his trademark walk. I remembered thinking, I’m gonna marry that man. LOL
Mit Out Sound. Whispers of an unfinished movie starring John Wayne and James Dean. Emily, a woman who can’t seem to let it go. Determined to track down the supposed film and finish it. But how?
Emily meets two impersonators, dead ringers for a young James Dean and John Wayne. She gets her hands on the film. She begins to make the movie. From day one, nothing goes smoothly. Will the film get finished? Should it?
This book checked so many boxes for me. An intriguing mystery. A flawed protagonist. It’s character driven. And has such an original story line. As I read the book, I easily pictured it playing on the big screen. Such fun.
5 STARS
.
.
.
Meet Author Rick Lenz:
When Rick Lenz retired as a stage and film actor (playing opposite Ingrid Bergman, John
Wayne, Lauren Bacall, Walter Matthau, Peter Sellers, etc.), his passion for drama refused to retire with him. Although he was an actor most of his life, he is also a seasoned writer.
His plays have been produced Off-Broadway, on PBS television, and in regional theatres across the country. Rick’s memoir North of Hollywood was called “masterful” by Writer’s
Digest. His first novel, The Alexandrite was named “one of the best books of the year” by Kirkus Reviews. Bret Easton Ellis called it “almost impossible to put down.” Booklife calls A Town Called Why, “An absorbing tale of mystery and revenge… nuanced … powerful.” Rick’s books have won several awards, including, Readers Views (first place), the Chanticleer Somerset Grand Prize for Literary, Contemporary and Mainstream Fiction, an IPPY Award, and a Foreword Book of the Year. Most recently, his time-travel love story Hello, Rest of My Life was a 2022 Silver Nautilus Book Award winner (fiction), and Eric Hoffer Award finalist (fiction).
He lives in Los Angeles with his wife Linda and an ever-shifting array of animals.
(The Red Hotel, #4)
Publication date: February 25th 2025
Genres: Adult, Thriller
A former U.S. President’s plane is brought down in the Atlantic. Revolutionary forces attack Cairo. The U.S. Secretary of State is kidnapped in Panama. A North Korean ballistic missile submarine tracks toward America’s West Coast. A sleeper cell spy awakens in the halls of Congress. A woman assassin takes aim on the Washington Mall. Behind it all is Russian President Nicolai Gorshkov who has mastered the ability to walk between the raindrops and not get wet. Until… China determines that Gorshkov’s policies are endangering its global initiatives… until Beijing issues Gorshkov a defiant ultimatum… until Dan Reilly, hotel executive/CIA freelancer, and friend of the Secretary of State, reads the moves on the international political chessboard and picks up the pieces. The non-stop action plays out on Air, Land, and Sea. Yet, with so many geo-political threads being tugged simultaneously, will the Russian leader succeed getting another step closer to rebuilding the old Soviet Empire in his image? (https://redhotelseries.com/)
“Yes, and you died! I saw it happen. The explosion from below. The fireball that swept up. Your last look. I’ve relived that moment every day since. Oh my God, Marnie, I was there. I saw it all.”
“And I’m here with you, Dan.” “You’re not. You can’t be.”
“I am and we can be together again.”
She reached out to him. Dan Reilly stepped back and stared. She was wearing the same dress, green blouse, and leather jacket she had worn that day in Stockholm; the day Marnie Babbitt returned to his hotel room seemingly regretful; wishing things were different; wanting to make them so.
“You loved me, Dan,” the brunette said softly. “You can love me again. Tonight. Here in Athens.”
Dan Reilly stopped retreating. Yes, he thought. Here. Athens.
He looked at the surroundings. Nighttime traffic was flowing along Adrianou Street. Horns honked. Couples walked arm-in-arm. Tourists window-shopped. Everything was normal until the woman he had desperately loved, the woman who had betrayed him stepped out of the shadows in front of him and into the light of a street lamp.
Dan Reilly had just concluded a successful business meeting at Kuzina, one of Athens’ most celebrated restaurants that boasted a magnificent view of The Temple of Hephaestus, the Agora, and the Acropolis. He had come to discuss the final terms for his company’s acquisition of a luxury hotel property currently owned by a Greek billionaire. It would take lawyers months to solidify the terms, but atop the restaurant’s Tarazza, with the golden glow of the Acropolis backlighting them, Reilly and the seller toasted to their relationship with a final glass of Ouzo.
It had been a good night for the International President of Kensington Royal Hotel Corporation. As he had walked along the cobblestones on Adrianou, Marnie Babbitt was not on his mind, but suddenly she was there alive and vibrant as ever. Her beauty took his breath away. Her voice was as soft and lilting as the last whispers in his ear.
Or the last lies, he thought.
“No lies, Dan,” she said as if reading his mind. “This time it will be different.”
At first, Reilly had felt immobile. Then he was drawn to her.
She reached out to him and stroked his cheek. Her touch was as present as ever. The light gave her an almost ethereal glow. She looked longingly into his eyes and proved she was alive with a lingering, deep kiss. Then she said, “Is that the kiss of a dead woman?”
Her tongue, her scent, and her breath were just as he remembered.
Just as he missed. So was the quickening of his heartbeat.
He withdrew and looked into her brown eyes. They were so bright and inviting.
“You missed me. I know you did.” She smiled and took a step back into the shadows. “Come with, Dan.”
The sounds of the city faded away. Gone were the car horns and sirens, people talking, dogs barking, car doors slamming, and footsteps on the sidewalk. Everything around him blurred. There was just Marnie and him. He felt his desire for her grow. Then he thought of Yibing Cheng, the woman now in his life.
“But—”
“It’s all right my darling. I know that there’s someone else. But I’m back. You want me.”
More thoughts from his head. How did she know? “You want us to be together again.”
“Marnie, I saw…
“You saw what we wanted you to see.”
She leaned forward and kissed him again. She felt him. He responded. “Now I’m here. To be with you.”
He withdrew.
“Don’t you want that, Dan? Don’t you want me?” “Marnie…”
“Yes.”
“Marnie,” he said again. “Yes, my love.”
“But you’re—”
She suddenly laughed. Her brown eyes went black.
Maybe it was the Ouzo, but all he initially felt was a prick in his stomach. Then he looked down. There was the hand that he had loved caressing. But now it held the black handle of a Russian Kizlyar Spetsnaz Special Forces knife.
He brought his eyes up to hers. She smiled cruelly, waited a moment, and then twisted the 6.5-inch blade and sliced upwards.
Reilly tried to speak. He couldn’t. He felt his legs crumble, but Marnie Babbitt’s grip on the knife kept him on his feet. She twisted again.
“Why?” Reilly silently gurgled.
“Because this is the way it should have ended.”
Marnie’s words confused him. He grabbed her hand with his. Blood soaked them both.
Should have ended?
Reilly tried to pull out the knife, but she was stronger. Life began to leave him.
With a sickly sweet laugh, she repeated, “This is the way it should have ended. You, not me.”
Should…have…ended. The words were familiar. He’d heard them before. Many times before.
“No!” Reilly shouted in full-throated defiance. “This is not how it should end! And…you…are… dead!”
“What?”
“You’re dead,” he shouted. “You’re dead!” “No, Dan. No! It’s all right.”
He was shaking violently. “Dan!”
Dan Reilly bolted upright. He automatically grabbed his stomach. It was wet, but from sweat, not blood. And the woman whose concerned voice was cutting through his dream belonged to Yibing Cheng.
“Dan, Dan, it’s okay. You’re here with me. Yibing.”
Reilly slowly collected his thoughts. Yibing turned on a night light and faced the man she’d been seeing for just a few months. They were in Athens, but he was not on the street bleeding. But he had had nights like this—in Paris, Washington, and where Reilly and Yibing had first met, Beijing.
“Your dream again?” she asked. He gathered his thoughts.
“Yes, except this time it was here. Outside our restaurant last night.
The street—”
“I’m so sorry,” Yibing said pulling him close to her naked body.
What did she do?”
“At least she didn’t throw me into a woodchipper this time,” Reilly replied lightly. “No plastic bag over my head. No fall from a cliff.” He rubbed his gut. “But she was pretty good with a knife, even for a dream.”
Reilly knew what was going on. Shrinks might call it PTSD. He saw it more as a combination of guilt over the fact that he failed to recognize Marnie Babbitt was a Russian plant and guilt that he couldn’t save her the moment he realized she wanted out. It was all manifesting itself in very vivid revenge dreams. But it was not paranoia.
There was more that wasn’t in his dream world. Dan Reilly had seen drones out his window after he and Yibing had returned from Beijing. He’d spotted people following them. And they were not his people. Not Yibing’s either.
For now, he viewed the tails and eavesdropping as intimidation. Russian or possibly Chinese. But it could get worse. It likely would get worse and not because he was an international hotel executive. It was his moonlighting. Dan Reilly had deep ties with officers at the CIA and even deeper ties with the United States Secretary of State.
.
Author Bio:
ED FULLER is CEO of Laguna Strategic Advisors, a global consortium providing business consulting services worldwide. He has served on business and charitable boards during his 40-year career with Marriott International where he was chief marketing officer followed by 22 years as president and managing director of Marriott International. Under his management, the international division grew from 16 to 550 hotels in 73 countries with 80,000 associates and sales of $8 billion. Upon retirement, Fuller has served on five university boards and taught as adjunct professor for MBA and undergraduate students. He blogged for Forbes and other tourism and lodging industry media. His book, You Can’t Lead with Your Feet on the Desk, has been printed in English, Japanese and Chinese. Fuller served as captain in the U.S. Army, stationed in Germany and Vietnam and received the Bronze Star and the Army Commendation medals. He and Gary Grossman are co-authors of the Red Hotel series, including the 2018 thriller Red Hotel and the 2021 release, Red Deception, soon to be followed by Red Chaos.
Gary Grossman is author of the bestselling political thrillers EXECUTIVE ACTIONS,EXECUTIVE TREASON, EXECUTIVE COMMAND, and EXECUTIVE FORCE; a geological thriller that spans 4 billions years, OLD EARTH; and with co-author Ed Fuller, RED HOTEL, RED CHAOS, and RED DECEPTION. Grossman has also written two acclaimed non-fiction books covering pop culture and television history: SUPERMAN: SERIAL TO CEREAL and SATURDAY MORNING TV.
He is an Emmy Award-winning network television producer, a print and television journalist, a novelist and a film and TV historian. His career has included stints producing for NBC News, CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox, PBS and 40 cable networks.
Grossman has produced more than 10,000 series episodes and specials through his TV production company Weller/Grossman Productions, and earned numerous awards including the prestigious Governor’s Emmy Award for a USA Network production and an Emmy for Best Informational series with the production of “Wolfgang Puck” for Food Network. Their documentary “Beyond the Da Vinci Code” (History Channel) earned two national Emmy nominations. In all, Grossman has received 14 Emmy nominations.
Grossman earned a Bachelors Degree in Communications from Emerson College in Boston and a Master’s Degree in Urban Affairs from Boston University.
He began his broadcasting career as a rock disc jockey at WHUC, in Hudson, New York. He worked at Boston television station, WBZ; joined The Boston Globe as a special contributor, and then became the television critic and media columnist at The Boston Herald American. His freelance articles have appeared in The New York Times and numerous magazines. He taught journalism and media at Emerson College, Boston University, USC and now Loyola Marymount University’s Graduate School of Film and Television.
Grossman helped formulate, program and launch television cable networks including HGTV, National Geographic Channel, and The Africa Channel.
Grossman has served on the Emerson College Board of Trustees where he chaired the Academic Affairs Committee. He is also a member of the Boston University Metropolitan College Advisory Board. For four years he was chair of the Government Affairs Committee for the Caucus for Television Producers, Directors & Writers, a Hollywood-based media activist group. He is member of The International Thriller Writers Association.
Welcome to my stop on thye virtual book tour for The Art Of Online Dating organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
Author Fleur Lamot will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B&N Gift Card to a randomly drawn winner. Don’t forget to enter!
And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
The Art Of Online Dating
By Fleur Lamot
Genre: Non-fiction
Synopsis
A step-by-step guide to navigating dating and finding love on the World Wide Web, written by someone with firsthand experience on the topic, and who has also tested the theory on a number of case studies and through research. Authored from a female perspective, directed to a female audience, although potentially an eye opening and helpful read for a male reader too.
This book is not about making you a better person, nor is it a self help book. It is about changing your mindset when embarking on singledom and internet dating to not fear it, by equipping you with the understanding of people’s actions and motives.
Throughout the book you will be guided in setting up your online profile, picking your match, the all important art and the do’s and don’ts through every step of courting someone, all the way to going forward with your ultimate love match!
Reading this book will bring you confidence and or at least clarity. It will make you think about your past experiences and open your eyes to see where they may have gone wrong, and more importantly to ensure the same mistakes don’t happen to you on future experiences.
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Enjoy this peek inside:
Long gone are the days of meeting a potential partner in a bar or at a music festival or at parties. You might be lucky enough to do so, but as time goes on and you get older, or as you and your potentials rely more on technology to meet someone, or as you lose the skills to do so by becoming accustomed to technology, the chances are getting thinner. There will be fewer parties with fewer single people, or there will be more awkward interactions at these parties, or your friends will grow old and become tired of attending music festivals and going to bars. Also, let’s face it: as we get older, the music at venues become too loud and we simply just want to have a good conversation, good food, and good wine which brings on more occasions like dinner events and dinner parties. These are the least likely type of events to meet someone, unless you are lucky enough to be set up by a mutual friend.
So, you might find yourself single and at a loss. Maybe it simply might be that all your friends are in relationships and you have no one to go out with. This is where online dating comes into play. Online dating has such a bad stigma, but if you look at it at another way, whilst your friends are becoming old and boring or are in relationships and/or just don’t want to go out anymore for whatever reason, you have an infinite number of potential new people to meet and play with who are in the exact same boat as you.
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About Author Fleur Lamot:
I successfully found love online using historical principles, understanding people’s motives and actions, listening to the right people, as well as trusting my own instincts. I am now married and a mother. I am a business woman with a very successful business, built from extensive networking and relationship management experience. I have received professional mentoring and coaching, which has helped me achieve all of this.
