Publication date: March 4th 2025
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Who accidentally has a one-night stand with her yoga instructor?
Yep. Me.
How did I accidentally sleep with someone, right? I know what you’re thinking. Whoops! I slipped and inadvertently inserted Tab A into Slot B.
That’s not quite how it went.
But my yoga instructor is really, really skilled with Tab A, if you know what I mean.
Slot B never had it so good.
What am I supposed to do now, as I walk into my yoga class and find the guy I ghosted this morning… there, in front of the class, perfectly aligned and grinning at me like he remembers touching all my chakras.
He’s perfect. Too perfect. He’s so perfect he’s ruining my job.
I’m an investigative reporter, working on spec for an article for a national magazine, and my job is to find all the ways this yoga chain is corrupt.
The only thing criminal here is that I can’t have him in Slot B ever again. And I would. I’d turn myself into a paper doll book if that’s what it took for more of that action.
I want him. He wants me. Nothing I do will make him back off because the chemistry is off the charts.
Except for one pesky little
We’re at cross-purposes.
I need my exposé to get the job of my dreams. He needs to sell his stake in the yoga chain before I expose the corrupt current owner.
That makes him my enemy. My nemesis. The guy I have to get around to get ahead.
Because in ten minutes, we’re going to pretend this never happened.
Pretend I didn’t go to a bar last night and have three glasses of pinot grigio, violating my strict two-glass limit.
Pretend I didn’t let my friends talk me into jumping up on stage and singing “WAP,” complete with properly choreographed dance moves.
Pretend I did not let N.M. here buy me a drink and kiss him like my tongue had developed magnets that sought out his iron tonsils.
And he most certainly did not kiss me back with a suave, athletic grace that made my body shimmer and my P, indeed, become deeply W.
Oh, no.
While technically, all of that did happen, and I invited him back to my apartment and we did the two-back nasty so many times I am pretty sure we need to invent a new prime number for it, in ten – now, nine – minutes, Mr. N.M. doesn’t exist.
My life has firm boundaries.
Speaking of firm –
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About Author Julia Kent:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com
(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.
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.
.
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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.
Bound by blood, Marked by
rebellion, Destined for a love that could save or destroy
them.
A forbidden
bond. A crumbling city. A choice that could change everything.
Serenity
Becoming an Elite—a blood donor for the Vampyr—was never part of the plan. But
with my family’s lives on the line, I had no choice but to step out of hiding
and into a world I barely understand. My rare blood has made me a target, and
now, I’m bound to Kane—the ruthless, untouchable head of the Vampyr Council.
The rebels want to use me. My family depends on me. And Kane… he’s the only one
who can keep me alive—but trusting him? That might be the most dangerous gamble
of all.
Kane
I never wanted an Elite. I certainly didn’t need one—especially not Serenity.
She’s everything I’ve avoided: human, stubborn, and a complication I can’t
afford. But from the moment I met her, she turned my world upside down.
Her blood sustains me, but it’s her spirit that leaves me hungry for more. As
rebellion threatens to tear the city apart, my focus should be on holding
everything together—not on the one woman who’s become my greatest weakness.
She’s more than just a distraction. She’s a risk. One I shouldn’t take.
But I can’t let her go. And if I’m not careful, she might destroy me—or save us
all.
In a world
where blood is currency and love is forbidden, Bound is a
spellbinding tale of passion, betrayal, and a bond that could shatter a city—or
bring it to its knees.
Fans of
dstopyian fantasy, forbidden romance, and slow-burn tension will devour Bound,
the first book in The Elite Series.
Every person, regardless of age or hatred for their kind, yearned to be selected. Deep down, they craved the privileges of being an Elite—the ones who willingly offered themselves to the vampyrs. But not her.
Serenity had no such desires; she refused to be a meal for anyone, no matter how tempting the rewards seemed. Yet, her personal feelings were irrelevant now. This program was her last hope, and if it didn’t work, she dreaded turning to Jax for help—something she desperately wanted to avoid.
Looking up at the clock, its hands slowly ticked as she waited for the nurse to arrive and begin the process that would, hopefully, improve her and her family’s lives.
Sighing deeply to calm her rising nerves, Serenity’s eyes wandered around the office, taking in the sterile and impersonal atmosphere. Four white walls encased a stark, bare office containing only the essentials: a simple desk, a utilitarian chair, a computer, a printer, and a cold, metal filing cabinet. There were no pictures or decorations. It was as if they intentionally designed it to be unwelcoming, discouraging any sense of comfort or happiness.
Honestly, it didn’t make any sense. One would think they would try to create a more inviting space to welcome potential Elites. The environment’s lack of warmth and care showed her what she was truly signing up for and how she’d be treated as soon as her application was approved.
And they would approve it. She did not doubt that.
Serenity had the type of blood that the vampyr wanted… and craved. At least, that was what her father told her. Only those with the rarest of blood types were selected as Elites.
Anyone whose blood type was A or B was automatically entered into the system as a donor, regardless of whether they were positive or negative. O positives were rarely chosen, and O negatives had better chances only if specifically requested. AB positives, the rarest of the rare type, were treated like gold and were consistently selected as Elites, typically matched with the wealthiest of the vampyrs. This made Serenity think despite their claims, money still talked within their society. AB negatives were a myth, according to the locals. Still, they were believed to represent a divine gift in vampiric lore, ‘ambrosia,’ so treasured that only the upper echelons in vampyr society knew of their existence.
As an AB negative, her blood was revered as the most delectable drink. She almost felt violated knowing that such an intimate part of her was seen as a commodity, something to be consumed with primal delight. It wasn’t just about her, though.
The Elite program was supposed to bring balance and peace between the two races, a part of the treaty the humans and vampyrs signed before she was born. But it seemed the vampyrs ruled their lives, despite humans sitting on the city’s governing Council. All the rules seemed to cater to the vampyrs survival, not humanity’s. It was infuriating.
When the office door opened, Serenity turned in her chair to see a petite woman in black scrubs walking through. The woman had caramel-colored skin and dark eyes. A laminated card clipped to her shirt read “Shelia” in bold capital letters.
“Can I have your name, please?” the nurse asked, sitting on the other side of the desk and placing a clipboard with an application next to the computer.
Such a simple question, but for Serenity, it was surrendering to the inevitable. Call it an innate feeling, but she had always known she would end up here signing up to be an Elite.
She couldn’t explain how, but a small part of her, deep inside, suspected it had to do with the rarity of her blood type. As if it had always known this would be her fate. But it was only a feeling and possibly the wariness of her situation.
Either way, she was here now. Taking a deep breath, she reluctantly spoke her name aloud. “Serenity.”
The words felt like a prison sentence once they left her mouth. Every inch of her screamed for her to get up and run away. They only had her first name. There was still the possibility of escape. She could get on the bus and go back home, where it was safe.
But she couldn’t. Not if she wanted to save her family. This was her choice, her sacrifice.
Her mother couldn’t become an Elite because of her sickness, and her sister was too young and sick, so it had to be her. They needed medicine, and this was the only way they could afford it.
Shelia’s kind smile and soothing voice washed over her, easing the tension in her shoulders. “What is your full name, honey? You don’t have to be nervous. You may not even get approved. This is just the application stage,” she assured her.
She was right; this was just the application process. She hadn’t even given a blood sample yet.
If Serenity was being honest with herself, she couldn’t deny the fear that gripped her. The thought of encountering a vampyr had always terrified her. She had hoped never to face one, but now, everything was about to change. She was preparing to leave behind everything she knew.
But she pushed those thoughts aside for the moment. She needed to focus on getting through this, or else her instincts would take over, and she would flee. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she forced the words out. “Serenity R. Wright.”
Shelia punched her name into the machine, attempting to assess her medical history. Her father had burned and erased every document that could identify her blood type a long time ago, insisting it was to keep her safe from them.
As Shelia stared intently at the screen, Serenity knew she was seeing the bare minimum of information. Her father had been thorough in keeping her out of the system. She had been homeschooled, never left the human districts, and always kept a low profile.
The scent of her mother’s homemade herbal concoction lingered on every piece of clothing she wore. The blend of lemon tea tree oil, activated charcoal, rosemary, and vanilla was meant to hide her natural scent.
Since she was young, she’d relied on it to cover up her unique scent. Her mother would create soap and shampoo for her to use and a specialized spray for when she ventured out into public. She always carried a small bottle of vinegar with her, a precaution in case she encountered any vampyrs.
She also wore a light brown cloak whenever she went out. But her mother believed her father’s true intentions were to hide her curly hair and honey-brown eyes, fearing they would attract unwanted attention. She never left without her cloak whenever she traveled, especially outside their district.
Except for today. She felt vulnerable without it but wouldn’t need it after this.
Shelia glanced up from the computer with curiosity evident in her eyes. “The only record we have of you in the system is your birth date. Have you never had a physical?”
It didn’t surprise Serenity that the woman was curious. If she were in her shoes, she would feel the same way. Her answer was simple: “My father was a doctor. He handled all my physicals and medical records.”
The memory of her father hung heavy in the air. He had been training her to be a nurse to help her mother and sister with their medical needs. But his life was cut short by a sudden heart attack during one of his routine trips into the city for more medicine.
With his absence, Serenity felt a part of herself missing; however, her family relied on her strength.
“He didn’t update your records.” Shelia glanced back at the screen and asked, “What was his name?”
“Dr. Richard J. Wright.” She wouldn’t find him in the system. He never officially returned to practicing as a doctor after the war. He only worked as an informal doctor for their neighbors and friends.
The nurse’s brows scrunched in concentration as she surveyed her computer screen. “I can’t find him in the system, and your records have not been updated. We’ll need to do a physical today and draw blood to get your blood type for your application. Let me see if we can squeeze you in with Dr. Bradford.”
Serenity anticipated this; she had mentally prepared for this precise moment. But even with all her preparation, she couldn’t shake the waves of anxiety that threatened to engulf her. Soon, they would know her secret, and she would be in danger. But her family would be saved, reaping the benefits of her becoming an Elite.
She despised the crushing weight of her family’s future on her shoulders; the pressure was almost suffocating. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her chest tightened as she struggled to hold back a sob.
Needing to gather herself, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, seeking respite from the tension. Her mind raced with conflicting thoughts, and she was torn between the responsibility she bore and the fear of what lay ahead.
It was a delicate balancing act; her determination to be strong for her family clashing with the nagging doubt and uncertainty gnawing at her resolve. She knew she had to be here, but that didn’t make it any easier. The emotional turmoil within her was like a storm raging beneath a calm exterior.
With a quiet yet determined resolve, Serenity opened her eyes, squared her shoulders, and braced herself for whatever lay beyond those cold, impersonal walls. She couldn’t let anxiety derail her; her family depended on her strength.
“Don’t worry, honey.” The sympathy in Shelia’s eyes didn’t help her worry. “The physical exam is painless, and the blood drawing is quick and painless.”
But it wasn’t the exam that made Serenity anxious. She was uncertain what would happen once her application was submitted, and there was no turning back.
Shelia typed a few more notes on her computer.
“Alright. I was able to squeeze you with Dr. Bradford. She is wonderful. This way.”
Shelia stood, grabbing a piece of paper from the printer before moving towards the door. Serenity stood to follow when suddenly Shelia stopped and turned back to her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Shelia asked with a seriousness that almost made Serenity want to run. “Once we walk out the door, there is no turning back. Your name will be filed into the system forever.”
Even if she wasn’t approved by some chance of fate, her name would still be recorded in their databases, making her a potential target in a future blood drought—which meant that if they ever ran out of human recruits, they could call upon her. It was one of the risks she took by even walking into the clinic, but it was her only choice.
“I understand your concern, and thank you for it, but I have to do this.”
Shelia nodded slightly and opened the door. Her eyes, wide with uncertainty, met Serenity’s briefly before she led them into the hallway, closing the door behind them.
Serenity was happy to know that at least one of the nurses here cared about the humans who signed up and ensured this was their choice. This gave her some hope that this whole process wouldn’t be as dreadful as she thought.
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and followed Shelia into the hallway, heart pounding as she contemplated what lay ahead.
.
Charley Black is
an up-and-coming writer and author who has been creating stories since she was
twelve years old. Her early short stories dabbled in different genres, but her
passion for romance novels — paranormal romance in particular — always shone through.
Charley currently resides in Rhode Island, with her family and works at a local
university.
Welcome to my stop in the virtual book tour for Finding His Wyoming Sweetheart organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.
Author Virginia McCullough will be awarding a $25 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.
Finding His Wyoming Sweetheart
By Virginia McCullough
Genre: Sweet Western Romance
Synopsis
When it comes to his seven-year-old son, new lodge owner Mack Fisher has a lot to make up for. Fortunately, the small Wyoming town of Adelaide Creek provides the perfect fresh start—that is, if he can avoid the distraction of Erin Hunnicutt’s warm brown eyes. The free-spirited musician has a way of bringing out the best in everyone—especially Mack. When they’re thrown together unexpectedly to help their town, sparks fly and a dangerous secret is uncovered. But searching for the answers only leads them to fall deeper for one another…and starts Mack wondering if there’s room for one more in his new family.
~~~~~
Enjoy this peek inside:
Mack lowered his phone and wrapped Erin in a tight hug. “We did this together, along with your four-legged pal, Neptune.”
Neptune was standing next to Erin, as if waiting to be given a job. Erin stood on tiptoes, and put her hands on the side of Mack’s face and gave him a quick kiss.
Even in the dark his smile lit up his face. Then it disappeared when his phone buzzed.
“A text from Jeff?”
Mack nodded. “They plan to come in close to the gate, but without lights. They’ll cut the fence and walk in. They want these guys to stay calm.” Mack quickly keyed a response. “I reminded Jeff that these thieves are still teenagers.”
They turned their attention back to the corral, where the light from the headlights shone on a guy coming out of the barn. A horse by the fence hurried past him and out of sight under the shelter of the barn roof.
“Hurry, Jeff, hurry,” Mack muttered. Erin noted every move the men made. No matter how wrong and horrible the actions, the four thieves, whoever they were, had been taking care of the horses in their crude stable.
She kept her eyes on the scene below, conscious of Mack standing sitting beside her. She could feel the intense energy passing between them. She ran his words through her mind again. “Uh, Mack?”
“What is it?”
“In case I don’t get a chance to tell you later, I’m falling in love with you, too.” Erin smiled. There. She’d said the words out loud. No regrets.
~~~~~
About Author Virginia McCullough:
.
Award winning author, Virginia McCullough writes romance for the Harlequin Heartwarming line, and FINDING HIS WYOMING SWEETHEART is Book 4 of her Adelaide Creek series. She also writes women’s fiction and nonfiction on a variety of topics. Virginia’s characters could be your family, friends, or neighbors, and all her stories offer hope, healing, and plenty of second chances. Drawn to water, she almost always sets her stories on a body of water, from oceans, lakes, rivers, and the winding Adelaide Creek.
A ghostwriter, book doctor/editor, coach, and experienced workshop presenter, Virginia is a wanderer, but currently lives in Northeastern Wisconsin. When she’s not writing, she’s walking on trails near her home or in some faraway place. She reads, streams series, hangs out with other writers, and daydreams about her next adventure.
Publication date: October 11th 2023
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
London. 2020. Lockdown.
Emily has had a terrible year when it comes to love. And now she’s stuck in her apartment, alone.
Things change when—one fateful night—she trudges to the rubbish chute and bumps into Robbie. Robbie—tall, hot, Australian Robbie. Robbie—her brother’s friend from school Robbie.
Why on earth did I choose to wear my twerking corgi T-shirt tonight of all nights?
And that’s when her bubble of one becomes a bubble of two. Cue glorious meals, dancing the night away, and cuddling on the couch.
Can this love bubble stand the test of time, or is it set to burst? Read now to find out.
This is the coronavirus-era rom-com you didn’t know you needed.
“You’re on top of me,” she blurted out, referring to his apartment’s location. The second the words left her mouth, her face erupted in an instant rash of crimson.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that made her stomach flip. “Alright, Emily. It’s night one. Catch you later.”
Her rubbish hit the floor, instant-noodle and crisp packets flopping out, as she locked eyes with Robbie. The shock of seeing him made her feel as if she was standing in sand, immobile, stuck.
Robbie. Her brother’s friend Robbie. Tall, Australian, self-assured. His chiselled good looks and broad build made him look like the fourth Hemsworth brother, but his floppy dark hair and soulful eyes were more Dev Patel.
“What are you doing here?” she said, staring down first at her rubbish and then at her T-shirt, which featured an illustration of a twerking corgi. The lone pimple on her chin seemed to pulsate to house music.
He smiled, dimples deepening. “Maybe we could be in each other’s bubble a bit. Stop ourselves from fully hermiting. Seems safe if we haven’t seen anyone else.”
.
About Author Maya Mason:
I’m a New Zealander living abroad who loves dogs, trash TV, and every food under the sun.
I write books that I hope will make you laugh, smile, and maybe sometimes cry. My debut novel ‘Be In My Bubble’ is set during the Covid lockdown in London, and I actually wrote it during lockdown (doing so actually helped get me through those years). Please let me know what you think of it, I love to hear from readers.
Genre: LGBTQ M/M Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy
.
Love is magical. Let it POOF into your life.
.
Hey there, it’s your favorite lovable P.O.O.F agent, Nozzag! Buckle up because
I’ve got a wild tale for you. Their meeting? Total “oops, my bad” moment, if
you catch my drift. Let’s just say, I may have given fate a little nudge! But
don’t fret, Tiki and Amalesh are in for a fabulously happy ending. *winks*
Thikoz aka Tiki – a Dragonkin, Sassy Dragon Esthetician, who is dominant and
longs to find his mate.
Tiki has countless fantasies about what his ideal partner would be like. He can
only hope that when he finally encounters his mate, they’ll be eager to delve
into the numerous interests on his Must Try Before I Die list.
Amalesh – a Vampire, Rare Blood Procurer, reclusive introvert, who simply
wishes to be left alone with his collection.
When Amalesh is thrown into Tiki’s path, almost literally, he realizes that the
world he has observed from a distance is far more enjoyable as an active
participant. It only takes a few hundred years and an energetic, dominant
dragonkin to uncover that little truth.
P.O.O.F. Please! is set in the world of Bloodlines of Fate. Twilight
Temptations are instalove, high heat, low angst stories that feature
various creatures and a guaranteed HEA.
Twilight Temptations is a continuous series and while each story can be read
alone it is best to read them in order.
Within the shimmering guise of a mortal walks D.G.
Carothers, a dragon of cunning intellect. A weaver of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban
Fantasy tales, this enigmatic being revels in crafting narratives that dance
between realms.
D.G. stands resolute in their commitment to unfurling tales unfettered by
constraints. For in their eyes, love transcends all boundaries, a truth woven
into the very fabric of their creations.
(Chasing Victory, #1)
Publication date: January 2nd 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
They’re chasing the same dream… Too bad they’re not on the same team.
When Breslin Cooper’s major league dreams go up in flames, he’s left with his backup plan: college baseball at Texas State Tech in Vanquer, Texas. But his public altercation with a reporter saddles him with mandated community service, therapy–and a toxic “Storm Cooper” reputation that no professional baseball scout will touch.
Liv Milline’s family name is practically synonymous with IML baseball. Yet despite her love for the game (the tight pants aren’t bad, either) and her dreams of becoming a baseball scout–her father holds one, ironclad rule: No baseball for Olivia (the corollary: no baseball players for Olivia is just downright mean).
Her one loophole? Playing baseball beat reporter for Texas State Tech.
Chasing similar dreams, Liv attempts to befriend Breslin. But the amazingly talented, pain in her aperture has only two words to say whenever she’s around: “No comment”.
Still, she can’t help but notice the troubled ballplayer’s running on overload. Emotionally wounded and reeling from his mother’s death, the only time Breslin seems close to “ok” is on the ballfield. Liv and his new teammates can’t seem to get through.
When a lapse in judgment catches Breslin in a real-world rundown, jeopardizing his probation and his baseball scholarship, his only choice may be to rely on Liv–the aggravating, attractive, and utterly relentless reporter, chasing her latest headline.
[Book one of a series, Chasing Headlines ends with a HFN, no cliffhanger, but lingering / unresolved issues waiting to bite them in the butt in Book 2.]
I threw my glove in my locker and grabbed my backpack from the hook. I imagined myself bounding out of the room, but my legs barely managed more than a shuffle.
Still, I must have gotten going a bit too fast because, the next thing I knew, Rally Girl was on the ground, phone skittering across the tile.
And I was the asshole. Shit.
She sat on her rear in the center of the hallway, rubbed her hip and winced. Fuck, is she going to claim I injured her—to get back at me for earlier? I glanced behind me at the locker room door. She can follow me. I looked at the exit door. I’d have to step over her. That would be ridiculous. I had more integrity than that.
Still . . .
She hissed through clenched teeth.
“You . . .” Dammit, what was her name? I had not been paying attention to anything other than, well, my shirt. On her body. Idiot.
“Well, what’s left of me. Geez, do you eat bricks for breakfast or what?”
Her legs, long and tan and open—they bent at the knee as she rested her elbows on them. And apparently, my body was not too tired to enjoy the view.
“I’m not hurt and I’m not upset. But maybe you could help me up?” She spoke in a soft voice. Dark eyelashes framed bright blue-green eyes.
I extended a hand and tugged her to her feet. She stood for a breath, two. So close. Connected. Something about the feel of her skin against mine . . . A small, but soothing warmth tingled through the nerves in my hand, sparking a heated rush from my palm to my neck.
A sharp breath, and then her fingers slid from my grasp. I missed the warmth of her.
“. . . maybe offer an apology?” She moved her hand up and down in a phantom handshake. “Sure, Coop. No hard feelings.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. Can this be over? I panted for air and shifted back a step. Her being the hot chick in the water fountain had been one thing. I could have tried to find her, always wondered, haunted the student center in the hopes I’d run into her again.
Her being a reporter meant all of those things went on the “no fucking way, ever” list.
“I don’t know what you’re over there thinking, but, I wouldn’t hurt you. You mean too much to the team.” She frowned. “This was an accident. Not that it didn’t jar me to the bone. You missed your calling as a linebacker.”
I blinked. Opened my mouth. Re-ran the words through my brain. She just said a shit ton of stuff, and what the fuck was any of it about?
“I’m fine, really. You need to stop gushing over me. All the upset is really beneath you.” One eyebrow rose and she crossed her arms. How did she breathe while saying all those words?
“Um, are you OK?” She leaned closer.
I stared at her mouth. “You talk a lot.”
Her arms dropped to her sides. “That’s what you have to say? Not a ‘You OK?’ or ‘So sorry, I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with your things?’”
I didn’t catch all of it, but, maybe, if I did the last thing, she’d move out of my way? And I could get food, drink a gallon of water, take a shower? I stunk to hell and back.
Help her with her stuff. I set my backpack down and knelt at her feet. I tried not to think about those short running shorts or how good it’d feel to slide my fingers over the curve of her calf, up to her hip. I shoved her shit into her bag and tossed it to her. I retrieved her phone from the tile floor.
“That’s, um. Yeah. Thanks.” She pulled the device from my grip.
I pushed my sweat-soaked hair from my forehead. “You’re OK?”
“Yeah.” She pulled the bag over her shoulder. “Got bowled over by a human freight train, but lived to tell the tale. I pity any catcher that tries to get in your way.” She gave me a tight-lipped smile.
So many words. No wonder she had to write them all down. “But you’re fine?”
“What, do you need me to sign a waiver?”
Red hazed into my vision. “I’d say yes, but reporters are lying snakes in the grass. Wouldn’t matter.”
“I . . .” Her jaw worked, but no sound came out.
An errant thought about her mouth working flit through my brain.
“But, I–We’re on the same team, Coop.” She pointed at her jersey as if that was “proof”. It sure as hell wasn’t.
“We’re not.” I hefted my backpack onto my shoulder. “But you were right about one thing.”
“What do you mean?”
I leaned down and stared at her head on. She turned a deep dark pink.
“To pity the person who tries to get in my way.”
.
About Author J. Rose Black:
J. Rose Black weaves stories about obsession, redemption, and the transcendental power of love. From her early days writing fanfiction for a passionate following of international readers, to crafting novels with her own characters, Rose has always been drawn to broody protectors and plucky, no-nonsense women ready to fight for what they believe in.
When Rose isn’t deeply immersed in her latest manuscript, she’s working in cyber security and thwarting the next generation of internet bad guys. Out of the office, she’s #Shipping with friends over her favorite, swoon-worthy couples, heading to the gym to battle the great evil that is Unmovable Baby Weight, or complaining about her husband’s addiction to 3D printing. Also: nagging her children to eat something other than cheese.
