Posts Tagged ‘romance’

 

 

Beyond Ever After

By Chantal Gadoury

 

Publication date: July 14th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

Return to the world of fairytales that readers first fell in love with in Until the Last Page in this magically charming sequel.

When Jo fell into a book of fairytales, she thought she would only have to save one prince. But now she has to save his brother, too.
In this new chapter, Jo finds herself lost once more in a world of magic, crowns, and impossible choices. The stories have changed, but the dangers haven’t—and neither has the loving a frog prince was never meant to be easy.

He thought one kiss would solve everything—but now, Prince Aneurin must stop a doomed royal wedding. With Josephine by his side, they tumble through twisting tales in search of a clever witch hiding behind a perfect disguise.

Between running from bearded kings, and avoiding unwanted betrothals, they navigate kingdoms and stories that refuse to stay neatly written. As adventures collide and hearts are tested, Jo and Aneurin soon discover that even in fairytales, the most dangerous magic of all is love.

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PROLOGUE: ANEURIN

I was certain I could not tolerate another insufferable evening in these damned confining clothes. Tugging at the collar of my tunic, I silently let out a curse into the cool night air. The music from the festivities below, a gentle, enchanting melody of the celebration, drifted up to where I stood on the balcony of my chamber. I’d done my best in avoiding the gossiping members of the court who still could not cease bringing up Josephine’s name around me.

This was a night of grand celebration. My brother was finally engaged, and there was once again a promise of stability – a guarantee of a prosperous future now that he was to be wed. My brother, the epitome of regal charm, and his beautiful future bride-to-be were at the center of everyone’s attention. I was grateful for the distraction from myself.

Sliding a hand through my hair, I let out a deep sigh. It had been apparent from the ballroom floor just how much of a stark contrast I was to the idyllic scene. The years I’d spent as a cursed amphibian had only isolated me from the kingdom, and worse, my family. Sitting at the dining table night after night, left me quiet and disconnected, while my family went on as I imagined they had for years without me. The courtiers had much to say about their theories of my previous life. I couldn’t stand to hear their remarks. Memories of the long nights, being confined in a body that had never truly been mine, feeling so far away from home…from my family. My manservant Henry had tried to tend to my every whim, except for the one I’d truly wanted the most—the freedom to be a man again. In the quiet evenings, when only the sounds of grasshoppers kept me company, I had imagined myself as I once had been, and it had filled me with a sadness I’d never known how to describe. I had dreamed of my return home, to the welcoming arms of my father and mother. But the reality of my return was not one of excitement, but uncertainty and fear.

I overheard the whispers about “the mysterious woman,” who had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. Her presence had unwittingly brought danger by luring the very man who had cursed me into the heart of the palace. Despite it being me who had bargained with the man called Rumpelstiltskin again, Josephine’s disappearance had left unanswered questions and an uneasy tension that permeated the palace walls.

The festivities below were a cruel reminder of the life I could have had but had lost.

I slid my hands over the cool stone of the balcony railing and closed my eyes. For so long, my life had been consumed by one purpose—breaking the curse with a true love’s kiss. I had never allowed myself to imagine what came after. I supposed that I would slip back into the role I had left as a young man. I would be welcomed back with open arms and take my place beside my father as his heir – his true heir. However, as that path had changed, I was forced to forge a new one —a life in which I would stand beside my brother as a symbol of unity. It was my duty to assist him in his new role, and it was an honor to do so – or so I was told. Even as I stood beside him in the glowing ballroom, I saw the hope in his eyes as he looked at me, and the quiet joy as his gaze shifted to his bride-to-be. The way he held her hand to his lips, the love that passed between them – it was clear. Charming would be a noble and worthy king, and I would serve him with unwavering loyalty.

Loosening the necktie of my tunic, I tilted my chin up towards the sky, gazing over the sparkling stars above. “Josephine…” I whispered.

In all honesty, despite my impeccable ability to keep track of the hours of a day as a frog, I had lost track of how many weeks had slipped by since the last time I had seen her. Had it been a fortnight? Longer? Or perhaps even shorter?

The memory of our last night was etched vividly in my mind. The gentle touch of her hand in mine, the sparkle of mischief in her dark brown eyes, and the softness of her laughter as I held her in my arms while we danced. I had been a fool not to kiss her then. Maybe if I had, she would have been able to stay by my side. I had ignored the silent plea in her eyes, ignored the gnawing in my stomach. I’d been so determined to fulfil the foolish bargain I’d made with Rumpelstiltskin, and it had made me so willingly blind.

I had known Josephine had been the one for me ever since seeing her with that irritating woodland man—Arch, with his untamed beard and wise eyes. For as insufferable as I found Arch to be, I knew it was because he was her friend. I had yearned for the warmth of her friendship, to be on the receiving end of her charms, her smiles.

I had also been a fool to deny the truth for so long, until it was too late. It was maddening how deeply Josephine had worked her way into my heart—only to be torn away before I could fully grasp it.

After the defeat of Rumpelstiltskin, Josephine was returned to her world by a mysterious woman. As the clock in the grand hall began to strike twelve, she dissolved before my very eyes, her form fading like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind nothing but the pair of glass slippers my mother had lent her. Instantly, my heart had been filled with longing. I had remained alone on the dance floor for several minutes until my brother pulled me away. In my manic desperation, I pleaded with my parents to allow me to search for her—to search for ‘the mysterious woman.’ They inevitably gave in to the request. Hours bled into days, and there was no trace of Josephine, nor the woman. It was as though Josephine had never existed in my world. Perhaps she hadn’t.

Since that moment, I had been haunted by the memory of her disappearance, by the ache of her absence that grew with each passing day. I missed her with a depth of longing that threatened to consume me. A yearning that gnawed at my soul and left me restless in the quiet hours of the night.

I knew I would never find her again. She’d claimed to come from another world that existed outside of my own. Many days, I found myself longing to retreat to my chambers and escape the routine of long meetings with my brother and silent dinners with my parents. I preferred to sit in the quiet darkness and bury my sorrows in a decanter of mead by my bedside. I hoped that if I stayed there long enough, the world outside would fade away, and with it, the ache in my heart.

Maybe then, the enchantress—the cruel and cunning one who had spirited Josephine from me would decide to grace me with her presence again. Many nights, I pictured her slipping into the room, her voice as dangerous as a snake’s whisper. She would look upon my pitiful state and offer to curse me back into the amphibious form I once loathed but now yearned for.

I knew I couldn’t let myself remain lost in those thoughts forever. As much as I wanted to linger in the past, I had a role to fulfill, just as I always had. It was time to reintegrate myself into my family, to reclaim my place—it sounded more noble than it felt. I had to come to terms with my brother’s ascension to the throne, and by the night’s end, I wanted to offer my congratulations to him and his soon-to-be bride convincingly. After all, who wouldn’t want to celebrate the fact that my dear brother would someday be the ruler I’d been trained to become? Duty demanded I play my part, and so I arrived, prepared—armed with charm and wit to navigate a room teeming with courtiers, who were more interested in gossip than actual conversation. I preferred the company of the men in the forest that Josephine and I had encountered to the people of my family’s kingdom.

I danced with many of the eligible women, aware that my participation would help pacify their gossip-hungry mothers. I moved through circles of small talk, offering pleasant smiles and well-rehearsed banter. With every conversation, I maintained an air of composure, masking my lingering thoughts of Josephine. It took considerable effort to hide my discomfort behind a polished facade, to act as though her absence didn’t linger like a shadow at the edge of my mind. I had learned to hide so much when I’d only been a few inches tall.

Opening my eyes, I stared out into the darkness and released a slow breath, letting the night air wash over me. I’d been gone long enough and didn’t want to give anyone a moment to question why I’d been gone for so long. I only had an hour more, and then it would be midnight, and I’d be able to depart from the festivities for good. I peered back up at the night sky, gazing at the brightest star above me. I hoped that wherever Josephine was, she too could see this star and think of me.

Perhaps it wasn’t very reasonable to hold onto that hope…to entertain such wishes. “Find me then,” were her last words to me, and yet here I was, unable to do even that.

“A drink would do me good,” I muttered to myself. I just needed a goblet of mead before I returned to the festivities. As I turned on my heel, something stirred in the shadows beside the velvet-curtained door, barely visible from the corner of my eye. I froze, my body tensing as I waited, my breath catching in my throat.

A faint rustling reached my ears as I watched the curtain sway on its own.

“Gerrit?” I asked, calling out the name of my valet. But there was nothing but silence. “I’m in no mood for games,” I continued. “Show yourself.”

Taking a step forward, I reached for the curtain. Almost on cue, a shadowed figure slowly emerged from behind. To my surprise, the figure was much smaller than I had expected, barely reaching half my height. There was a pause before the figure stepped into the faint light, illuminated by the moonlight. What I saw took me by surprise—a fairy! Her delicate wings shimmered like iridescent pearls as they caught the faint glow from above. She hovered before me, her wide violet eyes reflecting determination as she drifted closer.

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step back. In truth, despite all the stories I had heard as a young boy, stories about witches and enchantresses, mermaids and trolls, I had never quite believed in fairies. The woman’s gown, a deep blue that sparkled under the moonlight, glistened as if woven from the very stars. Her hair, short and white, was pinned back with tiny glass baubles that gleamed faintly in the night. She looked ethereal, otherworldly—like something pulled from a dream.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I must speak with you.” Her words hung in the air as she paused in front of me. The timing, her sudden appearance, couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Did she come bearing news of Josephine? My thoughts raced between hope and dread.

“I am Lunelle,” she murmured. “A fairy of the stars.”

“The stars?” I echoed, disbelief mingling with curiosity. I had never imagined fairies could exist beyond the skies, let alone among the stars themselves. Was this how wishes were granted?

“My sisters and I observe from above,” Lunelle continued, her gaze centered on me. “We hear the wishes whispered from those down below. And we see everything.” Her eyes grew wide, and she gestured at the sky. “And I have seen something perilous, Your Highness. Something you must know.” Her final words fell to a whisper, delicate yet heavy with forewarning.

I forced my brow to remain calm, though frustration flared beneath my skin. “If you could elaborate,” I said dryly, my tone clipped but measured. Mystical proclamations were of little use without answers.

“Your brother, sire…” She continued. Her delicate features were etched with genuine concern. “Your brother is in grave danger.”

My heart skipped in my chest as I peered at her with wide eyes. My brother? I looked over my shoulder, listening to the soft melody of the ball taking place below. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“If he’s in danger, I must go to him,” I said firmly, attempting to move past her. If there were something to be done, I wouldn’t waste a moment standing idle. But before I could take another step, Lunelle’s small hand darted out, her fingers clutching the sleeve of my white tunic. Her grip, impossibly firm for her slight frame, held me fast. I pulled against her, but my feet felt rooted to the stone, as if the ground itself had conspired to keep me still.

“It is far too dangerous,” she murmured. “Neither you nor your brother is safe—at least not yet.”

My patience waned under the weight of her cryptic warnings. “You’d best explain yourself,” I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing. “Now.”

Lunelle released a shaky breath before replying, “There is an evil witch who has set her sights on you and your brother. She seeks to undermine you both, to plant herself in a seat of irrefutable power.”

“A witch?” I repeated, incredulously.

“One of the most powerful in all the land,” she continued, ignoring my question. “Her magic is dark, ancient, and fueled by envy.”

I narrowed my eyes, determination flaring in my chest. “If you release me, I can go directly to my father. Surely, he can do something about this.”

A bitter smile twisted her lips, and for the first time, a flicker of something almost human crossed her delicate features. “If it were that simple,” she said quietly, “do you not think I would have already alerted him?”

I gritted my teeth, frustration mounting. “Is this not exactly the sort of thing you’re supposed to handle? Instead of trapping me here, shouldn’t you be doing something about this witch?” If an enchantress had the power to send Josephine away with just a flick of her fingers, surely this fairy could deal with a rogue witch.

“You honor me with your compliment, Your Highness—”

“It was no compliment,” I interjected, scowling.

“But even my magic has limits.”

I let out a slow, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“There is…one person who can help you,” Lunelle said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “One person who can save your brother from making a grave mistake.”

“A mistake?” My mind reeled at her words. What in God’s teeth had Charming done now?

“It’s the woman he intends to marry,” she continued, her tone somber, her words deliberate. “She is not who she seems. The maiden he met a fortnight ago is no longer the one with whom he plans to exchange vows.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“You must find the one who can break the witch’s hold.”

“God’s teeth, not this again,” I muttered, frustration boiling over. Another vague warning, another puzzle without a key.

“You must find her,” the fairy pressed, her tone sharp now, cutting through my doubts.

“Her?” I repeated the word hanging in the air like a storm cloud. “Who? Who am I supposed to find?”

Lunelle leaned closer, her luminous eyes locking onto mine as she pulled her wand free from the waistband of her gown. With a simple touch against the sleeve of my tunic, I watched as my white royal finery was transformed into a simple blue tunic with a leather satchel on my side.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked, tugging on the simple fabric.

“Remember, Prince Aneurin,” she said, “The face you seek is not the face you see.”

“Speaking in riddles does nothing to aid this situation,” I retorted.

Before I could demand more answers from her, the fairy pulled out her wand. It gleamed in the moonlight as she pointed it toward me.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Lunelle said softly, almost regretfully. “But you will soon understand.”

In an instant, a blinding light erupted from the wand, enveloping me completely. I tried to shield my eyes, but the brightness was overwhelming. The ground vanished beneath me, and I felt weightless, as if flung through the air by an invisible force. The rush of wind roared in my ears, and my heart pounded in a frantic rhythm. When the light finally ebbed away, I gasped for air, disoriented and breathless. My feet landed unsteadily, and I stumbled, blinking rapidly as my surroundings came into focus.

The world around me had changed entirely.

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About Author Chantal Gadoury:

Chantal Gadoury is a best selling fairytale-retelling and romance author, living in the beautiful countryside of Muncy, Pennsylvania with her mom and family yorkie, Taran.

When Chantal isn’t pursuing her next writing endeavor, she enjoys spending time with her loved ones, and taking long walks to the sounds of BTS. She is a TikTok enthusiast, loves all things Disney and loves a good, romantic K-Drama.

Chantal first started writing stories at the age of seven and continues that love of writing today. After graduating from Susquehanna University with a degree in Creative Writing, writing novels has become a dream come true.

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Immortality Island

By Nikki Jefford

 

Publication date: July 21st 2026
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Survivor meets Fear Factor in this romantic fantasy filled with magic, vampires, and enemies-to-lovers adventure.

Hunting her was meant to be easy . . . until desire got in the way.

Twenty human spellcasters. One deadly island. Four cutthroat vampire masters. Only one caster can make it to the end . . . and win a place in a vampire clan for eternity.

After her doctor discovers a brain tumor and gives her months to live, Joni Mullins sees winning the show as her last chance at survival.

Sterling Alder is a vampire master with a personal vendetta and a mission: destroy her. But on Immortality Island, survival isn’t just about magic—it’s about temptation, betrayal, and falling for the one person he should never want.

Welcome to Immortality Island, where contestants are literally thrown to the sharks!

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My pulse thunders, loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it.

“You have a terrible poker face,” Sterling says.

Only when it comes to him.

When I glare, he laughs—a low, warm sound that does infuriating things to my nerves.

“And you don’t know when to give up,” I say.

“There it is,” he says, clearly pleased. “No more playing pretend.”

I tap my wand against my hip, right where the rune tattoos hide beneath my jean shorts. It’s meant to remind him of my powers. What I’m capable of.

Instead, his gaze drops.

Sterling is fit in a way that looks effortless—long lines of muscle beneath his shirt, all restraint and coiled strength. The Bahamian sun has done irritating things to him. His skin, once pale, has picked up color. Not much—but enough that it warms his face and makes his gray eyes look brighter. Even his thick silver hair catches the light differently now, almost luminous against the blue of the sea.

I hate that I notice.

But it tracks. I have terrible taste in men. Not that I’m into Sterling Alder! He’s literally here to kill me.

When his gray eyes slide back up to mine, his fangs descend.

Hunger flashes across his face—raw, quick, and unmistakable.

My body reacts before my brain has a chance to step in. A traitorous heat curls low in my belly, and I clamp down on it hard.

Absolutely not.

I need to shut down this freak show before it goes any further. And I know just how.

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About Author Nikki Jefford:

Nikki Jefford is a third-generation Alaskan nomad married to an amazing Frenchman. She loves fictional bad boys and heroines who kick butt! Books, travel, TV series, hiking, writing, and motorcycle riding are her favorite escapes. The dark side of human nature fascinates her, so long as it’s balanced by humor and romance.

To get in on the fun and adventure, visit Nikki at her website for release alerts, updates, exclusive giveaways, and a free story when you subscribe to her newsletter: https://nikkijefford.com/newsletter/

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Hearth or Heart

By Emily Lane

 

(The Bowman Girls, #1)
Publication date: July 13th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical, Historical Romance, Romance

After her father dies, Effie Bowman and her eight sisters are left penniless, homeless, and alone. Salvation comes in the form of the new custodian of the estate, Mr Thornaby. But the more she learns of Mr Thornaby, the more she realises he needs her discretion as much as she needs his security.

In her efforts to moderate the wild Mr Thornaby, she recruits the unlikely aid of ton society’s most determined widower, Sir John Callander.

As the season progresses and Effie pulls Sir John deeper into her desperate schemes to moderate Mr Thornaby, both are forced to wonder if Effie is attempting to tame the wrong gentleman.

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Of all the consequences to befall a clutch of daughters belonging to an entailed estate, this one was quite outside the common.

‘£20 a month in pin money?!’ cried Effie.

‘Each.’

Mrs Thornaby, ensconced in a cream morning gown of twilled French silk that seemed to defy her age, smiled most becomingly upon her niece.

‘That is just for your frills and affects and whatever other small accoutrements you young girls require these days,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘Your dresses, gowns, and hats, of course, can be drawn against my son’s account.’

‘Ma’am, I could never.’

‘Oh, yes, you could,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘That boy has too much money.’

Effie’s eyes flashed, and she yanked her gaze down.

Grimacing, Mrs Thornaby said, ‘So, your mother has told you a little of it, I collect.’

‘She has, ma’am,’ Effie admitted.

Mrs Thornaby looked her up and down.

‘Your mother tells me you are an exceptionally good manager.’

Now the talk of money had faded, Effie’s calm, dark eyes levelled upon Mrs Thornaby once more.

‘Yes, ma’am, it’s true.’

‘I suppose with eight sisters, borne of a mother of my sister’s temperament, you, as the eldest, should rather be forced into such a role, even if it was not of your disposition.’

A smirk crossed Effie’s features as she declared, ‘That much is true, to be sure.’

‘But men and boys are a different matter indeed.’

Effie’s hands, trying to thread a needle, paused. She set her embroidery box down and took up her cup of tea.

‘I have no brothers.’

‘Clearly,’ said Mrs Thornaby. ‘And husbands? What thoughts have you on them?’

‘Not so many, ma’am. I can scarcely imagine having one, never mind plural!’

Mrs Thornaby did not laugh. Instead she set down her teacup with a clatter.

‘As you may have heard, my son returned last night from Brighton.’ She paused. ‘My son is… a particular kind of fellow.’

Effie’s brow arched. Having heard—during the small hours of the morning—this particular kind of fellow stumble through the upstairs hallway singing about the roast beef of Great Britain, she was inclined to agree with a great many insinuations that issued from that vague sobriquet.

‘Indeed?’

‘He is now, of course, the custodian of your late father’s estate—by some contortion of family lines.’

Society in the northeast of England was sparse. Somehow, Mrs Thornaby’s son had ended up taking title to the entail of her sister’s late husband’s estate.

‘Yes.’

‘It is all that is natural, then,’ Mrs Thornaby went on. ‘That my son should marry you, to maintain my sister’s place at Barraton.’

What little of the sisterly rivalry that had been passed on to Effie permitted her to regard this piece of charity with deep suspicion. Her eyes cinched a touch.

‘With respect, ma’am, I fail to see why Mr Thornaby should want to marry me.’

‘I do not.’

Blushing, Effie picked up her embroidery box again. ‘I mean, ma’am, that Mr Thornaby must have a great many… um, admirers. I cannot see that he will mark me with any distinction.’

‘He will not, but I shall tell him he is to marry you. Likely, the novelty of it will tickle him, and he will entertain it for a while. Thereafter, it is your duty to… charm him.’

Effie touched her nose. She looked around the cavernous room.

It was an early, grey morning, but the shiny mahogany and silk furniture, glossy wallpapered walls, and great sash windows shone under the blaze of three gilded hearths.

‘Oh. I see.’

Mrs Thornaby’s eyes followed Effie’s, and she grimaced.

‘We are family, Miss Bowman. Now more than we ever were. My son represents Barraton. He is Barraton.’

Effie’s jaw quirked.

‘To put things plainly, my dear, it has lately come to my attention that my son is very much in need of the companionship, temperance, and governance that a wife must, to some unions, bring.’

Mrs Thornaby paused.

‘Now, am I saying that my son is bereft of the faculties required in choosing or acquiring a wife? I am not. But one cannot but put more faith in one’s own family, especially a family so interconnected.’

Effie bowed her head. ‘It would be in my best interests, indeed, to… govern Mr Thornaby—as a wife or no.’

‘But as a wife especially,’ Mrs Thornaby reiterated.

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About Author Emily Lane:

Emily Lane writes sweet, clean Regency Romance perfect for fans of Georgette Heyer, Sophia Holloway, and Sophie Irwin. Hearth or Heart, her debut, launches July 13th. By day, Emily is a Management Consultant in the Lifesciences industry – she hopes her novels have just as much chemistry as her job! She lives in Thailand, which would be inconvenient but for the hot weather.

The Bowman Girls is Emily’s first Regency romance series, with 3 books currently planned:

Hearth or Heart (out now)

Past or Promise (Late 2026)

Duty or Devotion (Late 2026)

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Bound Beauty

By Jennifer Silverwood

 

(A Wylder Tale, #3)
Publication date: July 14th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Forgotten gods haunt her steps, and the cursed prince she left behind isn’t done fighting for her soul.

Vynasha is bound to the prince of Bitterhelm. Even if she were to die, her spirit will remain trapped with him in the castle forever. But she won’t give in to Grendel without a fight. With the aid of an oracle, a witchling, and the wolf that claims her heart, Vynasha plans to claim her power as the curse breaker.

Ceddrych guards their nephew secretly while fighting to keep the feral beasts roaming their borders at bay. But the monsters are closing in, and the madness he has struggled with drives him to one desperate, unforgivable act.

A war is about to begin between the forgotten people of Wylderland and the cruel might of Bitterhelm. Beings of prophecy and legend unite in the epic third chapter of the Wylder Tales Series, a romantic gothic re-telling of Beauty and the Beast.

WYLDER TALES is a series of romantic dark fairy tales, set in the past of the wider Borderlands Saga, and includes:
•slow burn romantasy
•forced proximity
•enemies to lovers
•found family
•magical bonds
•wicked witches
•burly beasts
•morally gray characters

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IN A FORBIDEN DREAM IN WYLDERLAND…

The journey seemed to take far longer than she remembered, and part of her feared the passage of time here compared to the world her body remained behind. Ceddrych had told her countless tales of the dangers of magick, of what happened when one dwelled too long in enchanted dreams.

Here the palace looked less like a ruin wrought from rampage. Candles gave off an unnatural silver glow and the hovering lights that had been trailing Vynasha seemed to thicken and gather as she lifted a hand to push open the doors to the throne room. They cracked open before her hand could touch the intricately carved wood.

Snow filtered in through the broken ceiling and rose vines curled over every surface, crawling up the obsidian columns and steps to the throne. Surrounding the steps, the shadow-spirits of beasts of every size and shape lounged and paced. Their forms flickered about the edges, and their eyes glowed brightly, turning to fix upon Vynasha as she slowly entered the hall.

Upon the throne, the thorned vines had dug into a hunched over man. His blood gleamed luminous violet, the same shade as hers was now.

With every step she took, the full wreck of his downfall became increasingly apparent. The shadow beasts at her back pressed closer, urging her forward. Vynasha clenched her fists and refused to climb the steps to face him.

“Grendel.” Her voice echoed like a plucked lute string through the cavernous hall.

Grendel shuddered and then raised his head and looked at her with dead violet eyes. “Vynasha.” The crack in his voice echoed clearly to her ears. His eyes widened when she remained, and his vine-wrapped hands clawed at the arms of his throne. “You have come at last.”

Her feet began to move of their own accord. She barely caught herself in time. She could not, would not go to him, and certainly never pity him. “What happened here? Why are my roses taking over like this?”

“Can you not guess, Vynasha” Grendel leaned forward, ignoring the press of the rose crowning his dark hair. “Vynasha, you have no idea how your absence has undone me. It has been pure torture to sense you but never able to touch you.”

“Good.” Vynasha took a single involuntary step up the stairs leading to his throne. His violet eyes flared wide with apprehension as she growled, “You and your monsters have made our lives a living hell, Grendel. It’s only fair I repay your bloody kindness.”

Grendel’s lips parted and his gaze took in the full measure of her with all the subtlety of a starving man. “Yet you are here,” he said, a new clarity brightening his violet gaze. His hands flexed against the arms of his throne. “You are truly here, and that means the spell has been broken.”

Vynasha flinched at his sudden smile and found herself unable to take a step back. Her feet drove her forward once more, and this time she had no power over herself to stop. “What are you doing to me?”

Grendel’s hand twitched and then she was flung forward. He groaned as he caught her, the thorns digging deeper into his flesh. She cried out as the same thorns cut her palms as she braced herself against his chest. “I have you, at last, I have you,” he said, eyes bright with unshed tears.

He was mad. No, she was mad. For the instant her hands found his flesh, a roaring wave of need assaulted her. She could rage at him and claim this was his need she felt, not her own. But this compulsion was familiar, forbidden and something she had fought desperately to forget in the past three moons.

“Grendel, let me go” she pleaded as she leaned into him, the pain of his thorns forgotten as he pulled her into his lap and began to press his lips over every part of her he could reach.

“How could I give you up my beauty, my love, my queen?”

She couldn’t breathe. The scent of roses, of life and death, of him were overwhelming. A part of her was starving, had been starving for months, she realized wish sickening clarity. “I hate you,” she sobbed as she tilted her chin and gave him further access to her neck. “If you pull me back here again, I will find a way to kill you, I swear it.”

“You cannot kill me without killing yourself, love,” he said with a laugh.

“Then we both die.” She shook her head but could not help tracing her nose along his neck, to draw in more of his heady scent.

“Vynasha,” he cried as her lips pressed to his pulse. “Please, Vynasha!”

But he was no longer tangible beneath her hands, the thorns no longer piercing them both. The painful aching need to mold herself to him faded just as she did, her hands disappearing before her eyes.

“Vynasha!” He cried with an agony she felt as her spirit was ripped free from Grendel’s nightmare. And the world around her dimmed, consumed by a cloud of inky ashes.

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About Author Jennifer Silverwood:

Jennifer Silverwood lives in the middle of an enchanted forest surrounded by cursed books, nosy spirits, and mischievous goblins she calls her children. After beginning several nonsensical degrees, she found her calling helping other authors bring their books to life. Jennifer is the author of two fairy tale fantasy series: the Borderlands Saga and Wylder Tales. Because she wasn’t satisfied writing in one genre, she also invites you to explore uncharted space with the Heaven’s Edge Novellas—and dare to fall in love again with the standalone romance titles Stay and She Walks in Moonlight.

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You Had Me at Meow

By Gracie James

 

Publication date: July 7th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Some girls get fairy godmothers. Abby Thompson gets a talking cat with a British accent and absolutely zero chill.

After her latest blind date—arranged by her loving (but relentless) mother—ends in a concussion, a wine-soaked dress, and enough humiliation to power Manhattan, Abby decides she’s done with dating. Forever.

Too bad her cat, Mr. Whiskers, has other ideas. And he’s suddenly sharing them. Out loud.

“Honestly, Abby, your taste in men is almost as concerning as your taste in sweaters.”

His mission? Fix her train-wreck love life and help her land her dream job. His qualifications? None. He’s a cat. His methods? Questionable at best.

But somewhere between the disastrous first dates, ruthless office politics, and the unexpectedly charming veterinarian who might actually be worth shaving her legs for, Abby starts to wonder…

Is Mr. Whiskers a miracle? Or a catastrophe with whiskers?

Either way, her opinionated feline isn’t backing down. And if Abby wants her dream life, she might have to trust the one life coach she never asked for. Her cat.

You Had Me at Meow is a sweet, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy about finding your voice, risking your heart, and one very determined cat who refuses to let his human settle for anything less than purr-fection.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Before I even reach the fridge, Mr. Whiskers has settled into his favorite spot on the couch while I gather the essentials of a proper pity party: a pint of mint chocolate chip, my largest spoon, and one of Dottie’s cosmic brownies. Ahhh, perfect.

Curling up next to my furry little roommate, I pull our softest blanket over my legs and queue up one of our favorite movies. Maybe watching someone else’s embarrassing moments will make me feel better about my own.

As the opening credits roll, I crumble Dottie’s brownie over my ice cream, letting out a contented sigh. At least dessert never disappoints.

“Why can’t I find love like in the movies, huh, buddy?” I ask, running my fingers through his soft fur. “You know, the kind where tripping in front of your dream guy leads to true love instead of a concussion.”

Mr. Whiskers blinks up at me, his eyes reflecting the TV’s flickering light.

“I mean, look at tonight,” I continue, digging into my brownie-ice-cream creation and regretting nothing. Well… except maybe going out in the first place. “Mom sets me up with someone who’s supposedly perfect for me, and he turns out to be a complete jerk. And then when I finally meet a genuinely nice guy, he’s my cat’s veterinarian and he’s already taken.”

I scratch under Mr. Whiskers’ chin, earning a faint purr.

“Maybe I should just give up on dating altogether,” I muse. “I mean, who needs romance when I have you, anyway? We could be two crazy cat ladies together. Well, one crazy cat lady and one crazy cat, but you know what I mean. No more terrible blind dates, no more falling head over heels, literally, for the wrong guys. Just us, some yummy snacks, and the sweet escape of a good movie night. What do you think, huh, buddy? Sound good?”

“Darling, that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all night.”

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About Author Gracie James:

Gracie James lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and their sweet rescue cat, Pinky, and absolutely loves the rain. When she’s not writing swoony, laugh-out-loud rom-coms sprinkled with a touch of magic, she’s usually hiking up a mountain or eating chocolate like it’s a personality trait. Her creative peak occurs somewhere between “I should go to bed” and “well, it’s basically morning now,” and she considers sunrise more of a suggestion than a deadline.

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Lady Petra and the Wolf

By Anna Valleria

 

(Lords Fall First, #2)
Publication date: July 2nd 2026
Genres: Adult, Gothic, Historical, Mystery, Romance

In Victorian London, Lady Petra, the daughter of the powerful and manipulative Earl of Kemberley, has spent her life as a silent pawn in her father’s political games. While the ton sees a perfectly poised debutante, Petra is secretly a woman of industry who runs a sanctuary for abused servants in a derelict London theatre.

Julian, the Viscount Wolfridge, known to the world as Wolf, is a cynical rake with a secret heart of gold and a childhood spent on the Bristol docks. When he proposes a fake courtship to Petra to stir her indifferent betrothed into action, he doesn’t realize he is stepping into a web of secrets far deeper than his own. As Petra’s world of mystery and Wolf’s path of redemption collide, they must decide if a marriage born of a trap can ever survive the truth.

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She shut her mouth abruptly, the sparks in her eyes extinguished as she retreated once more into the mask of a composed, distant lady. He despised when this happened, as it did ever so often when he approached her. He lived for the moments he could tease her, to break her composure, to see those eyes light up, even if it was in disdain or scorn.

Wolf knew himself to be an unrepentant rake, undeserving of John’s friendship or loyalty. Despite this self-knowledge, a fierce, uncharacteristic longing arose in him at that moment: he wished for someone to argue so passionately on his behalf, to proclaim him a good man.

Remembering himself, Wolf discarded such a maudlin thought.

“I am not obligated to explain my motivations to you, Lord Wolfridge.” Her tone was meticulously polite, yet beneath the kindness, he detected a veiled reproach that ignited his blood.

“And yet…” he went on as if he had not heard her. “Your white knight is not here. Nor has he been here in a very long time.” In her eyes, a battle of pride, hurt, and anger raged, and for a moment, he nearly regretted his casual cruelty. Yet, there was a purpose behind his malice.

“You more than anyone know he is busy.” Petra spoke quietly, her words clipped. “I have long wondered why you do not share the same sense of industry as Lord John.”

Indolent. The word lurked in their conversation and Wolf again regretted pushing this issue to the surface. A lord does not dirty his hands with work. He takes what he wants and leaves the work to others.

Ignoring his father’s tedious voice, which always stirred a confusing mix of feelings, he redirected his thoughts to his best friend, John Longley. John possessed all the virtues he lacked: he was honorable, kind, and diligent. He would despise him if John weren’t like a brother to him. Why did the notion of Lady Petra marrying John trouble him so much? It was none of his concern.

Yet, he couldn’t let it go.

“Has he not communicated that to you himself, Lady P?” he asked, relishing the way his lips popped on the P. He could swear he almost saw a tick of her jaw at his use of the sobriquet bestowed upon her by the gossip rags.

“As we have established, Lord John is very busy, my lord. He does not have time for frivolous goings on of the ton,” she said more firmly this time.

“And yet, my lady, I can see the small seed of doubt this might cause you.” He watched her jaw almost tick again, and for a brief moment, savored the victory of being right. “Does his absence not pain you, Lady P?” He wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome he wanted from his teasing, but he relished the rare opportunity to be able to read her expression.

Her eyes met his, and he was struck again by the intensity of her gaze as it searched his face. He felt her assessing his intent, seeking any hint of malice or desire to hurt her. In that moment, he understood that such an aim was entirely absent from his heart. Wolf could not quite articulate the purpose of his banter, but an instinct told him Petra and John would not suit. It was patently clear that John possessed not the slightest inkling of the gravity with which Petra had regarded their supposed understanding.

John’s ignorance was not due to neglect; in fact, he was one of the few gentlemen who didn’t seem inclined to constantly leave his wife behind. Rather, he had been distracted by some persistent, unspoken melancholy, as though his mind and heart were fixated entirely on someone or something else. Wolf suspected, however, that the cause of this melancholy was not Lady Petra, given that the look of longing vanished whenever her name was mentioned.

Staring into Petra’s mahogany eyes, a plan came to him. Devious, perhaps, a bit underhanded, but one that would prove to Petra that she and John would not suit.

“Let me court you,” he blurted out.

For once, Lady Petra’s entire face showed what she was thinking as her mouth fell into an almost perfect “O.”

She really was rather adorable. Where did that thought come from? “Adorable” was not in his lexicon. As she began to regain her composure and start to form a reply, Wolf followed his initial, impulsive request before she could respond. “Not a real courtship, mind you, just something to shake Lord John into the parson’s trap. Fearing he might lose you should hasten the nuptials, yes?”

In truth, this ruse would not hasten the betrothal, but help free John, and ultimately free Petra.

Why he wished her to be free, he was not going to examine too closely.

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About Author Anna Valleria:

Anna Valleria is an award-winning historical romance author who believes that everyone deserves to see themselves on the page. Her mission is to write steamy Regency and Victorian stories featuring socially active heroines and devoted heroes that reflect windows, mirrors, and sliding glass doors for all readers, including characters of different sizes, backgrounds, abilities, and neurodiversities. Her novel The Baron Takes a Wife was the 2025 winner of the Hearts Through History Romance Through the Ages Contest in the published Georgian/Victorian category.

Currently residing in a beautiful, historic city in the southeastern U.S. with her family and a rescue pup. If she’s not writing, she’s likely in a coffee shop, walking with her son or dog, or trivia with her team, Stone Cold Jane Austen.

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Burn Her They Said

By Cherish Wright

 

(The Anomalies of Ampara Deicra, #1)
Publication date: June 26th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

In a land where Dragons are revered like Gods, a witch and her guards must risk it all.

Witches in Ampara Deicra are required to use their powers of emotional influence to benefit sorcerers. None so much as Tasch—a witch born during the Anomaly, when environmental changes caused her magic to develop unmatched abilities.

Taken by the Emperor to manage his mood, she has served by his side since early childhood. Granted the title of Imperial Grand Witch, she is protected by the strongest sorcerers in each form of magic—all Anomalies, like her—with powers beyond any before or after them.

Until a sorcerer named Varic develops abilities surpassing Tasch’s Lead Guard. A fact which the Emperor denies by hiding Varic within the Imperial Army.

Where Varic is made to grow his strength past the point he can contain it, and requires Tasch’s magic to overcome the grief of his magic causing the worst known catastrophe. They fall in love in their time together—and forge a connection which is highly forbidden.

Over time Tasch’s powers fade, rather than strengthen, while the Emperor’s greed escalates the need for resources among bordering lands, who increase their attacks on the Imperial Palace. Fearing the worst, Emperor Aldritch assigns Varic to oversee Tasch’s detail, placing the two beings who must hide their feelings mere inches from each other.

With the highest stakes they’ve ever encountered, can Tasch’s Guards save her and the citizens, with the help of their bonded Dragons?

For fans of Anathema, Dragonfall, and A Discovery of Witches comes the tale of a burnt-out witch in her thirties who is trying to survive long enough to save the citizens from their power-hungry Emperor, with the help of her Guards and the Dragons they share a bond.

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About Author Cherish Wright:

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Writer of Dark Romantic Gothic Fantasy with character driven stories with MC’s in their 30’s

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Camp Shifter Series

By DJ Jennings

 

Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Welcome to Camp Shifter, where one mysterious letter changes everything. Hidden from the human world, Camp Shifter helps newly awakened shifters navigate their new lives—and discover the fated mates destiny has chosen for them. Filled with irresistible attraction, laugh-out-loud moments, emotional journeys, and steamy romance, these stories feature bears, wolves, owls, and other shifters finding love when they least expect it. From enemies-to-lovers and rejected mates to second chances and insta-love, the Camp Shifter Series delivers heart, humor, passion, and happily-ever-afters in a world where fate always has a plan—and love changes everything.

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Now on Kindle Unlimited!

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Enjoy this peek inside:

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OWL BE BEAR FOR YOU

 

The sudden kiss took Mara by surprise, Jack’s mouth slanted against hers with a determined passion that she matched without words. For the past forty minutes all she could think about was his face, his body, his eyes, those lips. She reached up and tore her glasses off, tucking them haphazardly into the outer opening of her purse, smashed between them as passion’s frenzy took hold.

Now that she was in his arms, his thighs hard against her belly, his arms warm against her shoulders, she was nothing but pink fire and molten blood.

A beat pounded between them, as if their hearts were in sync, his tongue dividing her mouth and tickling her teeth, the kiss as dangerous as it was unnerving.

Dangerous because Mara felt herself falling for a man she barely knew.

Unnerving because it all felt so right.

She was supposed to argue with herself, fight against this tidal wave of emotion, tell herself she was being reckless and foolish.

Those words weren’t there.

Instead, there were only fevered kisses and touches that made her sigh for more. Now that she was in his arms, she wondered how she would ever live anywhere without being touched by him.

Breaking the kiss, she said breathlessly, “I’m so sorry I never answered your text.”

“You can make it up to me with another kiss.”

And before she could say yes, her tongue was in his mouth, dancing against his, their lips enjoying each other with an abandon that bordered on criminal.

“Get a room.” Two different voices, one male, one female, said the words in unison. Mara broke away from Jack and stared at Sharon and Jim. The two were laughing and nudging each other. Given Mara’s reputation as the prim and proper librarian who never dated, she could only imagine what they were thinking as she totally lost it in front of them.

“I’m—I—oh, I’m so sorry!” Mara stuttered, struggling to catch her breath and gather her wits at the same time.

Jack remained in place, his face suddenly serious, his arm remaining protectively around Mara’s waist.

Without a word, he guided her to the main door and outside.

Her back was against the brick building, his mouth hot and frenzied on hers, before she could even look up at the night sky and spot the moon. Pressing her breasts against his wide chest, she pawed at him, her hands unable to stop touching him.

All the parts that were allowed in public, at least.

Jack’s fevered breath poured onto her neck like hot silk. “I have never been like this with a woman before,” he groaned, his tongue making warm, wet love to the base of her throat. “You do this to me, though. Only you. It’s like—” His abrupt halt gave Mara pause.

“Like fate?”

 

YOU SHOOK ME HOWL NIGHT LONG

 

Prejudice against shifters was still a thing.

Oh, how it was, indeed. Risa’s heart squeezed and she fought to maintain steady breathing.

She knew what it was like to be discriminated against for being a shifter.

Fourteen months ago, Pole had dumped her, two days after she got The Letter.

Timing really was everything.

He ghosted on her. Just… disappeared. Stopped answering her texts and calls until she had to get on the flight for her month at Camp Shifter. By the time she’d returned home, he’d moved.

And changed his phone number.

Fuck Pole.

“Earth to Risa? You there?” Danielle gave her a curious look. “You seem awfully pissed about this issue.”

“What? No. I’m fine.”

“And you’re the calmest, most serene staff member here at Camp Shifter, so when you get angry, we know something’s very wrong,” Travis added with a smirk.

“I am?” She tried to deflect the anger question.

“People love your classes,” he said with a shrug.

“That’s because we’re naked.”

“And a few hate it.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “Some of them have a long way to go toward accepting their bodies.”

Danielle leaned forward, chin in her hand, and gave Risa a searching look. “That’s why your calmness is so important. You make people who have been shamed for their size, their shape, their very being, feel like they can be themselves for the first time ever. That’s a gift, Risa.”

The squeeze around her heart lessened.

“Thank you.”

Danielle’s worry lines between her eyes reappeared.

“And we need to do everything we can to keep all the camps running.” She stood, giving Josh and Travis looks Risa couldn’t decipher. “Let’s go talk to the medical researchers about rabies screenings,” she muttered.

“Great. Just what I want to do on draft day,” Travis said with a groan.

“Draft day?” Risa asked.

“You know. Football draft.”

Her body went cold. “Oh.”

Danielle laughed. “Not a fan?”

“I hate football.” And with that, Risa stood and took her tray to the dishwasher section, her quiet morning coffee disrupted by rabies.

And memories.

 

DARKNIGHT OF THE MOON

 

Andie sat in her 9 a.m. class, Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, and tried really hard to be aware and present.

She failed.

Shira Prakash was a wise old woman, slow and incredibly bendy. As she stared at her teacher’s braid, the long, tight weave of it going all the way down past the woman’s butt crack, Andie wondered whether Shira was a snake or a sloth. She’d learned here at Camp Shifter that asking someone what kind of animal they were could be a landmine. Some people were excited to share the reality with you.

Others found the question to be an invasion of privacy.

Andie was an open book, so she didn’t understand the people who were more introverted and secretive about the kind of animal they became when nature took over. Weren’t they all here to learn about and explore the core self?

These thoughts filled her mind, all jumbled and spinning as she sat with her legs crossed, the backs of her hands pressing into her knees. If she were being graded for Meditation and Your Inner Shifter, she would definitely be failing the course.

“Imagine your core animal,” Shira said, her elegant fingers stretching long and splayed as she moved her arm to the right, like a large bird, wings and feathers spreading. “You are receiving their vibration into your root chakra.”

A fox shifter named Sally leaned over and whispered, “What’s a chakra?”

Andie’s stomach growled in response. “I don’t know, but it sounds pretty tasty.”

Giggling, Sally quickly righted herself and closed her eyes again, hands in proper meditation position as the teacher cocked one eyebrow but said nothing. The fox’s red hair rested in long tendrils on her shoulders, her slightly slanted eyes beautiful when closed.

“If it is hard to focus,” Shira said, “consider labeling what you are experiencing inside, as you attempt to peel back layer after layer to access your inner shifter. No one is perfect when it comes to meditation. In fact, that is why we call it practice,” she continued.

Andie felt an enormous sense of relief at that. At least there was a reason why she couldn’t figure out how to do this. Calming her mind was as foreign to her as climbing Mount Everest.

“When you find yourself invaded by stray thoughts that take you away from accessing the emptiness that you seek, just give them a name: ‘That’s a thought.’ When you think about lunch as you’re trying to find your inner animal, think to yourself, ‘That’s a thought.’ When your mind drifts to a bill you forgot to pay, or a craving for coffee, or ‘Did I remember to take my medication this morning?’, just tell yourself, ‘Oh! That’s a thought’; ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Sally leaned over and whispered, “And if you can’t stop thinking about DarkLover, ‘Oh! That’s a thought.’”

Andie covered her mouth, giggling hard. She had felt him outside, her pores tingling and alert, aware of him out there. How do you go through session after session of training, she wondered to herself, when the very person you want to meet most is there on the periphery? He was on the edges of the camp, she knew.

No one had told her this. It was more than instinct, even. She knew it, the way that she knew who she was. It was there, planted deep inside her by some force she didn’t understand. Nothing in her life had compared to this feeling, pure sensation and an intuitive knowing combined inside to create a strange power that connected her to him.

Was she imagining this? Was her obsession with DarkLover running amok, just some wish-fulfillment frenzy that she was indulging?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she met him.

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About Author Darla Josephine:

The author of the Camp Shifter series, Darla Josephine “DJ” Jennings, is originally from Ohio but now lives in Massachusetts in a household full of people who drive her nuts, but she loves them anyhow. She fills her days with writing, business management, and the never-ending task of herding cats.

Learn more about her in the New York Times bestselling novel, Random Acts of Crazy by Julia Kent, where she stars as one of the main characters. That’s right! DJ Jennings isn’t real, but Julia Kent sure is. 🙂

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For Liberty and Love

By Shanna Hatfield

 

(Petticoats & Patriots, #1)
Publication date: June 16th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical Romance

Courage built a nation. Love made it worth fighting for.

Throughout 250 years of American history, a well-loved locket finds its way into the hands of eight spirited heroines—each standing at the crossroads of love and destiny, and each inspired by a true patriot. As it journeys from one heart to the next, these stories unfold with sweet romance, unwavering hope, and a deep love of country, proving that even in uncertain times, love is always worth the risk. Start reading the Petticoats & Patriots series today!

She never intended to become a spy … or fall for one.
Philadelphia, 1776

As whispers of revolution turn swell into a roar for freedom, Lucy Carlson is no longer content to simply watch from behind the counter of her father’s jewelry shop. When a mysterious woman—none other than Martha Washington—leaves behind a locket, Lucy discovers the piece is more than a pretty keepsake. The necklace is a secret vessel for the revolution that carries the promise of love.

Drawn into a dangerous spy ring, Lucy begins crafting coded messages concealed within the locket’s clever design, living a secret double life and risking everything she holds dear in a time of sacrifice and war.

Continental soldier Branch Barton is a man defined by duty. Tasked with rooting out traitors, he moves through the shadowed world of deception and divided loyalties. He’s trained to trust no one, yet he finds himself drawn into a slow-burning connection with the jeweler’s spirited daughter.

But when Lucy begins to suspect Branch may be a Redcoat in disguise, their fragile bond is tested by mistaken identity, growing mistrust, and the threat of betrayal.

In a war where even allies can become enemies, Lucy and Branch must navigate a world of hidden truths and guarded hearts. With the fate of the colonies—and their hearts—hanging in the balance as Lucy delivers a message in enemy territory, will they find the courage to trust each other and choose love?

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Lucy rushed into the shop and drew up short at the sight of the man who had stood across the street earlier, leaning against her workbench. Despite being so taken aback by his presence, she couldn’t help but admire his muscular form and his handsome features.

When he removed his cocked hat and nodded politely, her gaze fell on the sun-kissed golden hair of his head, traveled down to expressive brows that raised slightly at her perusal, and hesitated at soulful eyes the color of moss caught in a beam of sunshine. His full lips and defined jawline added to his masculine allure. As he straightened and stepped toward her, she had the fleeting thought that he moved with strength and purpose, as though he was in full control of himself and his surroundings.

“Hello, Miss Carlson,” he said in a soft, deep voice that made Lucy’s knees feel unexpectedly weak.

Or perhaps the weakness came from realizing she’d stupidly left the ledger open and out in plain sight for anyone to read the entries. Not that she nor her father had anything to hide, but she didn’t think the tall man with a commanding bearing had any right to know who purchased merchandise in their store.

“May I help you, sir?” Lucy asked in a crisp tone as she strode behind the workbench, closed the ledger, and slid it onto the shelf where her father kept it.

“I came to retrieve something my…” He hesitated just long enough for Lucy to grow suspicious of his intentions and motives. “… aunt left here. A pair of gloves. Aunt Patsy sent me to retrieve them.”

Lucy could have easily handed over the gloves, which were sitting next to her tools just inches from where she stood, but she didn’t. Surely, he had to know she’d seen him lingering across the street, watching for Patsy.

Did the man mistake her for a complete dunce? Or did he think his attractive features and a voice that rumbled like a summer thunderstorm wrapped in velvet would leave her so captivated that she would bow to his every whim and wish?

Affronted, she stiffened and lifted her chin. “I will give … Patsy the gloves when I next see her. If that is not her preference, then please bring a note from her to indicate otherwise.”

“I assure you, Miss Carlson, I mean no harm. My aunt was quite distressed to realize she’d misplaced her gloves. They were a gift from someone quite dear to her heart, and it would be a tragedy for her to lose them.”

“And I assure you, Mister …” She paused, since the man had failed to introduce himself.

“Barton. Burwell Barton at your service,” he said with a bow, then offered her a boyish grin that caused her stomach to flutter. “But my friends call me Branch.”

“Branch,” she repeated, wondering if the name had anything to do with the series of barely noticeable moles on his left cheek that were shaped like a curved tree branch.

As though he could read her thoughts, his fingers brushed over his cheek. “A mark from birth, I suppose. Now, may I please have my aunt’s gloves?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, you may not. I intend to place them into her hands myself, sir. Now, unless I can interest you in a set of buckles or perhaps a snuff box, then I’ll have to ask that you depart. My family is waiting for me.”

“My apologies, Miss Carlson.” He backed toward the door. “My intent was not to insult or upset anyone.”

“Yes, well, I …” When she looked up into his face and caught him smiling, it was as though all the words she’d planned to say fell back down her throat. Mercy, but he was handsome with those sharp cheekbones and a bottom lip that seemed designed for passionate kisses.

Passionate kisses? Heavens above! What was she thinking? For all she knew, this man could be one of the king’s spies.

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About Author Shanna Hatfield:

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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Some secrets are better left buried.

Others are waiting to pull you under.

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Our Toxic Traits

by Rebecca Christo

Genre: Dark Romantic Suspense Thriller

Some secrets are better left buried. Others are waiting to
pull you under.

Jill Davis is just trying to survive the hustle of New York
City. As a private dog walker for the elite residents of an Upper East Side
high-rise, she’s used to navigating the eccentricities of her wealthy clients.
From the icy and demanding Briar Whitney, to the mysterious and unnervingly
attractive Christopher Bennett. Jill prides herself on blending into the
background; but in a city where everyone is watching, staying invisible is
becoming a dangerous game.

While a serial killer that the media has dubbed the
“Socialite Strangler” stalks the shadows of Central Park, Jill’s carefully
curated life begins to unravel. A series of unexplained “glitches” in her daily
routine, and a questioning detective suggest that the danger isn’t just in the
park, but in the building where she works.

When a high-stakes Halloween party turns a theatrical hoax
into a gruesome reality, Jill is thrust into the centre of a nightmare. Caught
in a web of obsession and lethal deception, she must decide who to trust.

In a world where everyone is connected, there is nowhere
left to hide. Can Jill break free before her own toxic traits and those around
her, become her undoing?

Amazon * B&N
* Bookbub
* Goodreads

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Avid dog lover and Author Rebecca Christo was born in
Toronto, Ontario, where she developed an early love of both reading and
writing. Of particular interest to her was creating a story with emotionally
mature content that was still entertaining enough to be read for fun on a
relaxing vacation. She hopes she’s succeeded with her very first published
novel: Mirrored Wounds.

When she’s not travelling with her husband, Darcy Christo, Rebecca enjoys
spending time with him, her children Ali, Brittany and Maxwell, and her puppies
(Lucy and Winston) in Wasaga Beach, Ontario where she currently lives.

Website * Instagram * Goodreads

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