Spotlight: Promise to Defend by Diana Gardin

By saving her, he might just save himself...
 
I'm broken. I have been for seven years. Ever since my wife was murdered while I was deployed overseas. I was protecting our country, but I should have been protecting her. I haven't looked at another woman since--but then Olive Alexander crossed my path. She stirs up feelings I thought were long dead. So when her house is ransacked after she receives a threatening message, I know I have to step in and keep her safe. I failed my wife, but I won't fail Olive. Unfortunately, Olive isn't exactly ready to accept my help...
 
With her sexy-as-sin pencil skirts and sleek ponytails, Olive clearly doesn't let anything--or anyone--mess up her perfectly ordered life. But years spent working as a special ops soldier has taught me how to read people... and I know Olive is hiding something. When my covert mission for Night Eagle Security collides with Olive's past, I'll have to get her to open up--or risk losing her. And losing Olive is not an option. If she's in danger, I'll defend her...even if it costs me my life.

Excerpt

“Couldn’t sleep, Red?”

“No.”

Turning, he gets up and walks down the hall. I hear a door open and close and when he returns, his arms are laden with a cozy-looking gray chenille blanket. Pausing in front of me as I look up at him in confusion, he uses his leg to nudge my knee.

“Scoot over.”

Moving sideways, Ronin sits down and stretches out behind me on the couch. Then he spreads the blanket out over his legs and wraps an arm around my waist. He tugs, and I find myself settling down in front of him while he spoons me from behind. He places the blanket over both of us, and then wraps his other arm around me.

It’s like I’m trapped in the hardest, warmest, most protective, best-smelling cocoon there ever was.

At first, I’m stiff, because what?

Ronin’s scent wafts over me, and I breathe it in like a woman deprived of air. It’s partly cologne, but it’s a fresh, masculine clean scent with just the tiniest hint of spice. It’s amazing. His body, pressed up against mine in the most intimate way, is so hard that heat pools deep in my gut and my thighs clench together to try to fight the bubbling desire he’s stirring up inside me. A kind of true desire I haven’t felt in years.

His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. “Relax, Red.” His words raise the hairs on the back of my neck, and a delicate shiver rolls through my whole body.

Taking a deep breath, I allow myself to soften against him.

“Not comfortable being touched, are you?” Ronin’s voice in my ear is husky and deep, and it feels like he’s reaching inside me rather than just speaking to me.

I shrug. “Not usually.”

“Do you want to talk about why that is, Red?”

My eyes trail over his hands as his capable fingers begin to stroke unassumingly along my forearms. It’s the slightest touch. Barely a caress, really, but the way I can feel it reverberating everywhere from my neck to my toes is unsettling. I’ve never been touched on a level as deep as this, and I don’t know what to do with the way it feels.

Shrugging again, I think about how to answer that question.

“I’m just…cautious…after everything.”

There. That should satisfy his curiosity.

But Ronin doesn’t quite let it go. “There’s more to you than cautiousness. And that’s okay…I get it. I have layers, too. Ones that go so deep I don’t know if I’ll ever get to the bottom of them. And I’d never expect anyone else to, either.”

The sheer understanding in his tone floors me. He doesn’t elaborate on his own issues, and he doesn’t ask me to delve further into mine. I’ve never been around a man who doesn’t ask for something from me, usually too much, in return for spending time with him.

Tentatively, I caress the bicep that holds me so tightly. The corded muscles jump beneath my touch, and I can feel the breath that Ronin sucks in.

“Tell me about these?” I ask, caressing the giant bird tattoo in the center.

His voice low, velvety, he answers me. “Well, this is an eagle in flight. I got it when I first joined the army.”

I trace the intricate details of the tattoo, the fine lines given to each of the bird’s feathers.

“And this one,” he continues, indicating the three thick, black bands stretching around his arm nearer his shoulder. “Represent each time I had to pass a test to achieve something great. Army entrance, officer exam, Ranger training.”

Marveling, I imagine the sheer amount of strength it took for him to achieve each of these goals.

He’s silent for a moment, and I trace the bright, bold heart tattoo entwined with rope. “And this one?”

Ronin stiffens slightly. He pauses, but then when he answers, there’s a cooler quality to his voice, one that I don’t understand. “That represents my heart.”

And that’s it. That’s all he says, and it surprises me how much that hurts.

We sit in silence for a few long moments, the tension swirling between us, when I finally feel his body relax against mine once again.

I haven’t stiffened since we started talking. I haven’t felt the need to flee from his hold, to shy away from his closeness. It’s huge, at least for me. This doesn’t happen. Not unless it’s on my terms, and with men I can keep at a safe distance.

But something tells me there’s no keeping Ronin at a distance. It should terrify me…but it doesn’t. Instead, a spark of hope flickers to life inside me. Hope that this man can succeed in breaking down the walls I’ve built so carefully around my heart.

When a chuckle rumbles through his chest, I almost jump out of my skin and his grip on me tightens for just a moment to reassure me.

“What the hell is this?” he asks.

Focusing my attention on the television, a smile ghosts across my lips. “It’s ‘Behind the Scenes: Big Top.’” Reality television is an addiction for me, and the show that follows the leading players in a traveling circus behind the scenes is one of my favorites.

His laughter grows louder and I can’t help myself; I chuckle right along with him.

“Red…please tell me why we’re watching ‘Behind the Scenes: Big Top.’” The teasing lilt in his voice makes my pulse race.

“I like it.” Feeling the need to defend myself, my tone is indignant. “If I weren’t an interior designer, and I was just a little bit braver, I think I’d probably be a circus performer.”

Ronin’s laughter fades away as he considers my words. “What act would you do?”

I can answer that question without a second thought. “I’d be a trapeze artist. Flying high, all those dangerous catches? The freedom of it? It’d be amazing.”

Ronin’s quiet for a moment. I think he’s forgotten all about my answer when he speaks again, his words dusting across my skin once more.

“That’s a circus I’d pay big money to watch, Red. Because I think I’d really enjoy seeing you look free.”

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About the Author

Diana Gardin is a wife of one and a mom of two. Writing is her second full time job to that, and she loves it! Diana writes contemporary romance in the Young Adult and New Adult categories. She's also a former Elementary school teacher. She loves steak, sugar cookies, and Coke and hates working out.
 
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Spotlight: A Gentleman Never Surrenders by Lauren Smith

Love is worth a little scandal.
 
Owen Hadley needs a wife. Preferably a wealthy one. Alas, there aren't a great number of heiresses willing to marry a rogue of no particular fortune---luckily, if there is ever a gentleman capable of melting a lady's chilly heart, it's Owen.
 
Milly has had enough of the marriage mart. If matrimony means giving up her freedom for a foppish husband, then society can take their idea of marital bliss and toss it. But when the ton's most notorious rogue mistakenly makes his way into her bedchambers, Milly finds herself unexpectedly and unwillingly at the altar . . .
 
Yet the more time she spends with her new husband, the more Milly starts to wonder if the marriage she never wanted may be the best thing that's ever happened to her. Now it's up to Owen to convince Milly that what started as a mistake is anything but---and that every night with him will be more wonderfully scandalous than the last.

Excerpt

Milly climbed onto the bed and pulled the bedclothes up around her chest and sighed. The bed was so large, and rather lonely. Usually she didn’t let such a melancholy thought bother her, but tonight for some reason, it did. There was a dull ache in her chest and she rubbed the spot with her hand. Somewhere tonight, Mr. Hadley was likely climbing into bed, dreaming of all the young ladies’ hearts he would steal and break. A treacherous little flutter in her chest made Milly wince. She ought not to think of Hadley, certainly not while she was in bed…yet thinking of him, as frustrating and maddeningly irritating as he was, flushed her with a welcome heat in the chilly room.

The oil lamp beside her bed was the only light left in the room and it burned steadily. Often she read late into the night and forgot to turn it off, but tonight she was too tired to read. She reached over and gently twisted the brass knob to kill the little flame. Darkness absorbed the dying light and Milly flipped onto her back. The cold of the sheets almost stung her bare toes and legs when her nightdress rode up to her knees. A cold bed, an empty bed. It shouldn’t have upset her, but after Mr. Hadley’s talk of heat and summer, she was off balance and bothered.

The mere thought of him and the way his eyes had darkened and seemed to shimmer with inner flames brought on another rush of warmth. His eyes, like honeyed fire, and his lips, the way he’d smiled sardonically, almost mockingly, in a way she rather liked, irritated her, yet fascinated her. There was no reason to like a man’s mouth or to imagine what it might be like to have that mouth pressed to hers in a kiss that caused the heat he was so fond of discussing. She knew his kiss would be hot, because when she thought of it, her body blossomed with a swelling of heat in her belly. His mouth is wicked…sinful…and I hate that I wish to know how he tastes. It was a forbidden thought, but one she couldn’t deny. She rolled over onto her stomach, fluffed her pillow, and squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to will herself to sleep. It was going to be a long night.

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About the Author

LAUREN SMITH, winner of the 2014 Historical International Digital Award, attended Oklahoma State University, where she earned a B.A. in both history and political science. Drawn to paintings and museums, Lauren is obsessed with antiques and satisfies her fascination with history by writing and exploring exotic, ancient lands. She is currently an attorney in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
 
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Spotlight: Conan by Kylie Hillman

Conan
Kylie Hillman
(Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation #1)
Publication date: September 12th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

The first book in the brand-new spinoff from the Internationally Bestselling Black Shamrocks MC series is here.

“You know how the story ended. Now, it’s time to learn how it all began…”

Prospecting for the Black Shamrocks MC once Colin “Conan” Blake finished school was a no-brainer.

His best friends were prospecting.

His father was a ranking member.

Hell, every man he knew was part of the MC.

The only thing the Club wanted in return for a lifetime of brotherhood was unquestioning loyalty. It was that straightforward. Patching in meant he vowed to put the needs of the Black Shamrocks in front of everything else—even his own desires.

He thought it would be easy. He was certain nothing could come between him and his brothers.

That was until he met her.

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EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE

“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things.” ~Ken Segall~

During my life, the whole twenty-two years I’ve graced this earth, I’ve learnt one thing. Rules are for other people. I’m a Blake; part of the Black Shamrocks MC, son of the Sergeant-At-Arms. The dictates of society that everyone else is forced to live by don’t apply to me.

I can do what I want when I want.

As long as it doesn’t affect the Club, I’m golden.

My days as a Prospect are numbered, I know that. It’s a no-brainer. The first generation of sons born in Australia are ready to patch in and learn what they need to do to continue our Club’s legacy. The granting of my membership into the brotherhood that binds the Shamrocks is guaranteed.

At least, I thought so.

Until I found myself on the wrong end of their oath.

Brotherhood before blood. Brotherhood before everything. They wanted me to put the brotherhood before her … and I wasn’t sure if I could.

Colleen McCormack called to the very thing that was changing me from a boy into a man. In her green eyes, strawberry-blonde hair, and hips that curved for days, I saw my future. I saw kids. I saw a responsibility for her happiness that made my soul sing with pride.

I saw the pair of us—old and grey, and still in love.

Too bad she was a Club slut.

According to my father, you shouldn’t give a fuck about the sluts. You fuck ‘em, you share ‘em, you laugh at ‘em when they keep trying to come back for more.

You don’t fall in love with them.

You definitely don’t ask them to marry you.

And, you one-hundred-percent don’t use your Club to exact revenge on the fucker who forced her into whoring without taking it to Church first.

I’d spent my life thinking that the rules didn’t apply to me.

Turns out that they did. Because once the Shamrocks are done putting out the fire I started with the still-smoking end of my gun, I’m going to feel the full-force of those rules.

Thankfully, she’s more than worth it.


Author Bio:

Kylie Hillman is the Australian author of the Internationally Bestselling Black Shamrocks MC series, Amazon #1 Bestselling NA/Sports novel, Brawl (Black Hearts MMA #1), and the recently completed Centrifuge Duet. She's currently working on the highly anticipated spin-offs to the Black Shamrocks MC series, writing the rest of the Black Hearts MMA series, and plotting her upcoming psychological thriller, Blood Oath.

She's also wife to a Harley-riding, boating and fishing, four-wheel driving, quintessential Aussie bloke and mum to two crazy, adorable, and eccentric kids. A Crohn's Disease sufferer and awareness campaigner, as well as an avid tea drinker, metal head, and math nerd, Kylie is known for lacing everything she says with sarcasm and inappropriate innuendo.

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Read an exclusive excerpt from Rising Star by Terri Osburn

A popular DJ at the hottest station in Nashville, Charley Layton is doing what she’s always wanted to do: living in the heart of country music. Charley puts her career first and relationships second, but when a charismatic stranger in a black cowboy hat invites her back to his place, she decides to give herself one night of no-strings fun.

But Dylan Monroe isn’t a no-strings kind of guy. Charley is beautiful, brainy, and brassy as hell—the kind of girl he’s always wanted. When his record label books him an interview on Charley’s show, he’s determined to find out why he woke up alone, and when he can see her again.

With Dylan now the most eligible bachelor in country music, Charley doubts their fling stands a chance, but she’s willing to try. Dylan dreams of fame, but he also craves a life offstage with Charley. Can he convince her that both of their dreams are worth chasing, and that love is still possible, even in the spotlight?

Exclusive Excerpt

“They’re coming this way,” Charley hissed, bracing herself for the pretty boy’s disdain. 

“I’ll take care of this,” Matty said with a frustrated huff. “They’ll be on their way in seconds.” 

Charley had yet to witness her friend in action. This was going to be fun. 

“Thanks for the drink,” Matty said before the ball cap guy could spout his opening line. He’d turned the hat around, revealing a field of freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. “I’m not interested in another one,” she informed him. “Or anything else you have to offer.” 

“I haven’t offered anything else,” he replied with a smile. “Yet.” Charley gave him credit for taking the direct hit with grace. “What’s your name?” 

Ice-blue eyes narrowed. “Matilda,” she answered. 

“Pretty name,” Ball Cap returned. Very smooth. “I’m Casey Flanagan.” 

“I don’t care,” Matty replied, her pink lips curled in a fake smile. “My friend and I are here to celebrate her birthday. We aren’t looking for company.” 

As Matty delivered the blow-off, the sexy figure in the black hat sauntered over to Charley. 

“Hi.” 

She couldn’t believe he’d deigned to speak to her. “Hi,” she replied, knocked off balance by his nearness. God, he smelled good. 

“Happy birthday.” 

The timbre of his voice sent heat dancing up her cheeks. And ignited a few embers in lower regions as well. “Thanks.” 

“What do you do?” Ball Cap asked Matty. 

“I eat guys like you for breakfast.” 

Charley nearly choked. She’d given a man the brush-off a time or two, but she would never be as badass as Matty Jacobs. 

“Want to dance?” asked the man in the black hat. He’d clearly been cast in the role of wingman, charged with getting Charley out of the way.

Before she could answer, Matty’s admirer said, “I’m willing to take the risk.” 

The blonde smiled. “I bet you are.” 

In the two and a half months they’d been roommates, Charley had never seen Matty smile at a man. Especially not like that. If Ball Cap could achieve such a feat, he deserved his shot. 

“Sure,” Charley said to the cowboy. “I’ll dance.” 

The moment she slid her hand into his, the room shifted beneath her feet. With a firm but tender grip, he led her to the dance floor, spun her into the shifting crowd as if they’d rehearsed the move a dozen times, and set them both into motion without bumping into any of the other dancers. Lucky for Charley that she’d been two-stepping since junior high, because her partner could hold his own with the pros. 

“Is your friend’s name really Matilda?” he asked. 

Considering he had yet to ask for Charley’s name, she stiffened with irritation. 

“Yes.” 

“And is it really your birthday?” 

Eyes locked on his collar, she offered another one word answer. “Yes.” 

The song rolled into the next, but her partner showed no indication of ending their dance. 

“Twenty-two?” 

She met his gaze. “Twenty-five.” 

Full lips split into a panty-melting grin. “Good to know. I’m Dylan,” he offered, changing direction so that she no longer danced backward. “What’s your name?” 

All too aware of how easily this man could charm her into things Charley had no business doing, she ignored his question and asked one of her own. 

“How long are we going to keep this up?” 

“That depends.” He shrugged, causing his biceps to flex beneath her touch. “Did you have some other activity in mind?” 

Ignoring the implication, and the urge to examine the rest of his muscles, she said, “We both know that you only asked me to dance to give your friend a clear shot at my roommate. There’s no need to pretend you’re actually interested in me.” 

Pulling her closer, Dylan whispered into her ear. “What makes you think I’m not interested?” 

Charley shivered as his breath caressed her neck. The distraction caused her to lose her footing, but Dylan kept her upright with little effort. 

“I saw you across the bar,” she explained, determined to keep her senses. “You were obviously unhappy about your friend’s choice of targets.” 

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, sending sensual vibrations through hers. “I was informing my friend that he was about to get his ass handed to him. Miss Matilda is out of my boy’s league, as I’m sure you’d agree, but Casey was hell-bent on making a fool of himself.” 

Craning her neck to peer through the crowd, Charley saw Matty toss her head back in laughter. “Don’t look now, but I think he’s proving you wrong.” 

Another quick turn and Charley’s back was to the bar.

“I’ll be damned,” Dylan mumbled. 

The full smile would have been enough to turn her inside out, but the moment he tipped the hat up to reveal a twinkle in his blue eyes, Charley knew she was in trouble. Big trouble. 

“You’ve done your duty, then,” she said. “No need to keep up the charade.” 

The smoke-gray eyes dropped to hers, sweeping the breath from her lungs. They’d stopped moving. 

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he said, his attention dropping to her lips. 

“I’m Charley.” Voice cracking, she cleared her throat and tried again. “My name is Charley.” 

A slow song filled the air, lazy and seductive, and Dylan shifted into a gentle sway that lit every circuit in her system. 

“Nice to meet you, Charley.” 

Unsure how to respond, she nodded. “Nice to meet you, too, Dylan.” 

As if they’d signed a truce, her partner tucked her hand atop his heart and rested his chin against her hair. Unable to help herself, Charley surrendered, if for only one song, and relaxed into his arms.

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About the Author

Terri Osburn started putting words on the page in 2007. Five years later, she was named a finalist in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest for unpublished manuscripts. Shortly after, she signed with an agent and moved into publication, with her debut novel, Meant to Be, released from Montlake Romance in May 2013. Terri lives on the East Coast with one high schooler, three long-suffering tabbies, and a hyper Yorkiepoo with attachment issues. To learn more about Terri, check out her website at terriosburn.com.

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Spotlight: Times Square by Jana Aston

Times Square
Jana Aston
Publication date: September 18th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

A STANDALONE romance from New York Times bestselling author Jana Aston

Once in a while right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.

I saw that quote about fairy tales embroidered on a decorative pillow at a home decorating store. Honestly, it pissed me off. Retail propaganda aimed to promote sales when any single girl in the city could tell them they’d sell more if they’d offer Keep Your Pants On, Asshole instead.

But it’s fine. I don’t have room for decorative pillows anyway.

And I don’t have time for distractions.

Which is why I’m ignoring the distraction staring at me right now. The one who looks like he belongs on a billboard campaign. The one with the full lips and the cocky smile. The one refusing to look away even when I give him my best no way scowl.

The one headed in my direction. Right now.

*Times Square was previously published inside the Love In Transit anthology.

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Author Bio:

Jana Aston likes cats, big coffee cups and books about billionaires who deflower virgins. She wrote her debut novel while fielding customer service calls about electrical bills, and she's ever grateful for the fictional gynecologist in Wrong that readers embraced so much she was able to make working in her pajamas a reality. Jana’s novels have appeared on the NYT, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists, some multiple times. She likes multiples.

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Spotlight: Three Heart Echo by Keary Taylor

Three Heart Echo
Keary Taylor
Publication date: September 12th 2017
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Suspense

The demented thing is that this evolved from the most sickly sweet, heart-wrenching love story you’ve ever heard. I went to Sully because I just couldn’t get over Jack’s murder. I couldn’t deal.

Iona came to me for the same reason most did: because there was no closure. A love cut too short. She begged me to open the gate between the living and the dead.

We should have left it shut.

This. This is not a love story. This is a possession story. A story of lies. A story of two faces. This is a story of death and violent echoes from the other side.

And there will be no happy endings.

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EXCERPT:

There’s been this look of dread and apprehension in Sully’s eyes since the moment he opened the church doors to find me. It’s been growing into something hard and cold moment by moment. But with my revelation, it solidifies into something heavy as the world.

“Sit down,” he says in something very close to a growl. He points to one of the two chairs set in the middle of the room.

I sit, dread and fear and anticipation climbing in my throat.

Sully closes the door, and locks it.

The huge man stalks around the room, lighting a match to first one candle, then taking it to light the others. The room gradually grows lighter until a dozen of them are lit, and I can finally see more than a foot in front of me.

I rub my hands over my arms, because suddenly I realize that it is freezing in here, despite the roaring fire Sully has kept in the other room.

Deep, slow breathing pulls my attention back to the man.

He stands in one corner, before a solitary, lit candle. His back is turned to me, his hulking shoulders blocking out most of the light, casting him in an eerie glow. His long hair hangs around his face. He breathes, slow, deep. But there’s a quiver to it. Something unsteady.

I want to ask him if he’s okay. To ask what is the matter, because everything in me screams that there is.

But I’m too petrified to open my mouth.

A draft pushes through the edges of the covered window, sending the flames dancing atop the candles. A shiver works its way down my spine.

Sully suddenly steps back from the corner and drops down into the seat across from me. He holds his hands out.

“The watch,” he says nodding to his right hand. “Your hand.” He indicates the left.

I can’t stop shaking. I set the pocket watch in his hand, and trembling, I rest my hand in his other. He closes his fingers around mine, fully engulfing it with his size.

Sully’s eyes slide closed. I watch his face, seeing something come over it. Like he’s slipping underwater, preparing to hold his breath against certain death. His breathing becomes very light and shallow. His entire body becomes very still. The temperature of his hand drops.

The pain in my chest comes to a peak and I realize just how hard my heart is beating. My hands are slick with sweat. I lean forward in my seat, far too close to Sully’s face for comfort.

My breath is held.

“Jack,” Sully says, his voice low and deep. I jump when he speaks, startled, a bent twig on the verge of snapping. “I know you’ve moved on, but I have someone here who wishes to speak to you. If you wish to speak to her, please show yourself.”

Sully is quiet for a long moment afterward that seems to roll into an eternity of anticipation.

“What’s happening?” I whisper, a cloud of breath billowing out from me.

Sully lets out a slow, long shh, his face suddenly going peaceful.

All the blood in my body drops into my feet.

“Iona,” Sully says. There’s something breathy in the way he says my name, something disbelieving and hopeful and so full of everything.

“Jack?” I breathe as tears spring into my eyes.

“Yes,” Sully says, and he suddenly opens his eyes. But they only meet mine for a moment. They shift off to the right, next to the window, by his shoulder.

Goosebumps flash onto my skin as my eyes follow Sully’s.

“Can you see him?” I whisper. I want to shy back, to put some distance between myself and the ghost only he can see. But I’m also dying inside, knowing he is hidden from my eyes.

“Yes.”


Author Bio:

Keary Taylor is the USA TODAY bestselling author of over twenty novels. She grew up along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains where she started creating imaginary worlds and daring characters who always fell in love. She now splits her time between a tiny island in the Pacific Northwest and Utah, with her husband and their two children. She continues to have an overactive imagination that frequently keeps her up at night.

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