Spotlight: The Right Kind of Reckless by Heather Van Fleet

Maxwell Martinez

I’m in love with a woman I can’t have, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop myself from falling.

The problem? Her brother’s my best friend.

I shouldn’t want her this much. Not when it goes against the bro code. Not when I’ve never been able to commit to a woman for longer than a night.

But one look into her eyes and I’m a mess for her. She’s my everything. And I have to walk away with nothing.

Excerpt

Addie and I watched the guys play round after round of Skee-Ball, while Chloe jumped and cheered and stole the occasional ball from each of their rows. No matter what my state in life was, I was happy the three of them had found one another.

“Here, let’s get our picture drawn.” Knocking me out of my woolgathering, Addie guided me toward one of the caricature sketchers who sat just outside the carnival gates. The man had a unibrow the size of Lake Michigan’s shoreline, and his mustache was curled at the end, handlebar style. But his work was amazing. Charcoal sketches with colored eyes, balloon- shaped heads with movie-s tar hair.

“How much for both of us?” Addie asked, fishing through her purse. We sat on the stools, as directed, our shoulders touching.

“Thirty- five,” the guy said, his fake French accent too thick to be believable.

I groaned and looked at my friend. “Seriously? That’s too much.”

“Seriously. We have to do this.” Addie mocked me. “Look at how cute those are.” She pointed to a couple with a heart surrounding their heads. Little doves swooped in the air around them, carrying heart balloons in their beaks. Had to hand it to the guy. He was talented.

“I’ve got this, ladies.” I looked up at the sound of Max’s deep voice, finding him searching through his wallet. He pulled out the money, handed it to the artist, then lifted his gaze to meet mine. A soft smile covered his bow-shaped lips, and everything inside me stirred to life at the view.

Addie faked a cough, then pressed a hand over her stomach. “Oh…oh no. I don’t feel very good, guys.”

I faced her and narrowed my eyes as she stood. Don’t, I mouthed, already knowing her game.

Ignoring me, she looked at Max and said, “You’ll take my place, won’t you, Max?” She batted those brown eyes and twirled a lock of her dark hair. No doubt her way of getting anyone and everyone to say yes to her. “Lia here was dying to get her picture drawn.”

Oh, the little liar…

Max nodded, immediately taking her empty seat to my right. With an extra hop in her step, Addie walked away, her ponytail swinging back and forth more the closer she got to Collin and Gavin and Chloe. I wanted to pull it out of her head.

“All right, look this way.” I blinked at the sound of the artist’s voice, my body far too aware of Max’s heady scent.

God, why did he have to smell so good? Fit so perfectly against me?

“You’re much too stiff.” The artist tsked from behind his easel. “Here, wrap your arm around zee pretty lady’s waist, like so.”

I sucked in a breath as Max’s hand was guided along my back, ending at my side with his fingers tucked just under the edge of my T- shirt. I swallowed, shifting in my seat and instantly remembering our kiss— the way he’d moved his mouth over mine.

Warmth pooled low in my stomach, drifting in between my thighs. His touch was like adrenaline, kick- starting my orgasm-starved body to life.

“Chin on her shoulder, lips close to her ear…” I shuddered as Max followed the artist’s directions to a T, the stubble on his chin igniting a stormy thunder inside me. Max seemed unaffected, his chest rising and falling at an even rate, while mine was suddenly in asthmatic mode.

“Relax,” Max whispered in my ear, his warm breath grazing my neck. “I’m not gonna bite ya.”

I shut my eyes and shifted once again, the ache between my thighs becoming unbearable. “I didn’t want to do this,” I finally murmured, refocusing on the artist.

Max laughed softly, his chest vibrating against my back and shoulder. “I know you didn’t.”

My eyebrows pushed together in annoyance. “Then why did you agree to sit here?”

“Because Addie wouldn’t give up until I did.” He sighed, far too relaxed compared to me.

I was jumping, itching, crawling with…something, yet he was unaffected. Which only further emphasized that he didn’t want me the way I did him.

“Plus, she folds my underwear, remember? Gotta make sure she doesn’t stick ants in them or something.”

“Yeah, like Addie would ever stoop to your level.” I couldn’t help but grin, my nerves easing slightly.

He squeezed my ribs. “You would.”

I turned to face him, our noses inches apart. “Damn right I would.”

A slow nod later, he moved even closer, our bodies in sync…

My smile fell away. “Maxwell,” I whispered, so lost in his dark eyes that I couldn’t concentrate. The apology was there on my tongue like earlier, but the need weighing me down was even heavier. How could I ever be just friends with a guy who was likely to break my heart, no matter what we were to each other?

“Tell me why you kissed me that night.” He looked at my lips, a serious glint in his eyes.

Blood rushed to my face at his out-o f- the- blue question. My composure slipped as confusion took its place. Why was he asking me this?

“Because I…” I gulped. “I owed you, remember? For bailing me out and for keeping me safe from those guys.”

Something shifted in his eyes. Disappointment? I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. When I looked back at him, I knew I was imagining things, because flirty, fun Max was back, winking at me. “Well then.” He cleared his throat. “That’s good to know.”

“What’s good to know?” I frowned.

“That you still owe me.”

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About the Author

Contemporary romance author Heather Van Fleet is a stay-at-home-mom turned book boyfriend connoisseur. She’s a wife to her high school sweetheart, a mom to three little girls, and in her spare time you can find her with her head buried in her Kindle, guzzling down copious amounts of coffee. Heather was born and raised in Moline, Illinois, where she lives with her wonderful family.

Find Heather Online: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Spotlight: The Highlander's Crusader Bride by Cathy and DD MacRae

Born in the Holy Lands only a few years after the Third Crusade, half-Armenian, half-Scot Arbela MacLean is a true daughter of the desert, beautiful and untamed. Trained to be a warrior to avoid her gentle mother’s fate, Arbela has honed her skills with Turkish bow and arrow, sword and throwing darts—and dreads the day her father choses a man for her to marry.

After more than thirty years in the Holy Land, Donal MacLean, Baron of Batroun, is recalled to Scotland, the last son available to take up leadership of clan MacLean. He brings with him knights, treasure, trade—and a daughter of marriageable age.

Caelen MacKern, known as the Bull of the Highlands, is cynical about women. His first marriage formed an alliance, and he did not grieve when his spoiled, immature bride passed away. He has agreed to marry again—against his better judgement—for the men, means and coin to recover from a devastating pestilence that all but wiped out his clan.

More than a little resentful at finding himself forced to remarry, Caelen’s proposal to Donal MacLean’s headstrong daughter nevertheless piques her interest. Each will receive what they want most from life—the ability to live as they please without interference from a meddling spouse. But their marriage of indifference will soon change to one of passion that neither Arbela nor Caelen could have predicted.

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About the Author

Cathy MacRae lives on the sunny side of the Arbuckle Mountains where she and her husband read, write, and tend the garden—with the help of the dogs, of course.

You can visit with her on facebook, or read her blogs and learn about her books at www.cathymacraeauthor.com. Drop her a line—she loves to hear from readers!

DD MacRae enjoys bringing history to life and considers research one of the best things about writing a story! With more than 35 years of martial arts training, DD also brings breath-taking action to the tales.

You can connect with DD through www.cathymacraeauthor.com. It’s always exciting to hear from readers!

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Spotlight: The Amendment Killer by Ronald S. Barak

"WE HAVE YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER. HERE'S WHAT YOU NEED TO DO."

That's the text message Supreme Court Justice Arnold Hirschfeld receives as hearings commence in the U.S. Supreme Court to determine the fate of the 28th Amendment - enacted to criminalize abuse of power on the part of our political representatives.

In court to defend the amendment, retired U.S. District Court Judge Cyrus Brooks observes his old friend and law school classmate Hirschfeld acting strangely and dispatches veteran D.C. homicide detective Frank Lotello to find out why.

In the meantime, Hirschfeld's precocious and feisty 11-year-old diabetic granddaughter Cassie, brutally kidnapped to control her grandfather's swing vote upholding or invalidating the amendment, watches her insulin pump running dry and wonders which poses her greatest threat, the kidnappers or the clock. As Brooks is forced to choose between saving our nation or saving the girl.

Book Excerpt

Tuesday, May 6, 6:30 am

We have your granddaughter. Here’s what you need to do.

Thomas T. Thomas III reviewed the language. Again. He closed the phone without hitting send. Yet.

He stared through high-powered binoculars from atop the wooded knoll. As always, the girl hit one perfect shot after another.

Cassie Webber. Age 11. He’d been tailing her for three months. It seemed longer.

She was chaperoned everywhere she went. Two-a-day practices before and after school. Her dad drove her in the morning. He watched her empty bucket after bucket and then dropped her off at school. Her mom picked her up after school, ferried her back to the practice range, and brought her home after daughter and coach finished. Mom and daughter sometimes ran errands on the way, but always together. Even on the occasional weekend outing to the mall or the movies, the girl was constantly in the company of family or friends. Having someone hovering over me all day would have driven me batshit.

His childhood had been different. When Thomas was her age, he walked to school on his own. And he lived a lot farther away than the girl. His daddy had never let his driver chauffeur him around. Wasn’t about to spoil him. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Didn’t spoil me that way either.

He kept telling himself patience was the key. But his confidence was waning. And then, suddenly, he’d caught a break. The girl’s routine had changed.

She started walking the few blocks between school and practice on her own. Dad dropped her off at morning practice and Mom met her at afternoon practice instead of school. Only a ten minute walk each way, but that was all the opening he needed.

Everything was finally in place. He would be able to make amends. He would not let them down.

This time.

She completed her morning regimen, unaware of Thomas’s eyes trained on her from his tree-lined vantage point. No doubt about it, he thought to himself. She was incredibly good. Driven. Determined.

And pretty.

Very pretty.

He relieved himself, thinking about her. A long time . . . coming. Haha! As the girl disappeared into the locker room, he trekked back down the hill, and climbed into the passenger side of the van. He returned the binoculars to their case. He removed the cell from his pocket, and checked the pending text one more time.

Moments later, the girl emerged from the locker room, golf bag exchanged for the backpack over her shoulders. She ambled down the winding pathway, waved to the uniformed watchman standing next to the guardhouse, and crossed through the buzzing security gate. She headed off to school.

Without taking his eyes off her, Thomas barked at the man sitting next to him. “Go.”

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About the Author

Described by his readers as a cross between Agatha Christie, Lee Child, and John Lescroart, bestselling author Ron Barak keeps his readers flipping the pages into the wee hours of the night. While he mostly lets his characters tell his stories, he does manage to get his licks in too.

Barak derives great satisfaction in knowing that his books not only entertain but also stimulate others to think about how things might be, how people can actually resolve real-world problems. In particular, Barak tackles the country’s dysfunctional government representatives—not just back-seat driving criticism for the sake of being a back-seat driver, but truly framing practical remedies to the political abuse and corruption adversely affecting too many people’s lives today. Barak’s extensive legal background and insight allow him to cleverly cross-pollenate his fiction and today’s sad state of political reality.

In his latest novel, THE AMENDMENT KILLER, Barak calls upon his real world legal ingenuity and skill to craft a 28th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution criminalizng political abuse and corruption that Constitutional scholars across the country are heralding as a highly plausible answer to the political chaos destroying the very moral fiber of the country today. It’s difficult to read THE AMENDMENT KILLER and not imagine what could—and should—be expected and demanded of those political leaders who have forgotten they are there to serve and not be served. 

Barak is also a committed and strident advocate of finding a cure for diabetes. One of the primary characters in THE AMENDMENT KILLER is the feisty and precocious 11-year-old diabetic granddaughter of the Supreme Court justice holding the swing vote in a case in which Congress is challenging the validity of Barak’s hypothetical 28th Amendment. It is no small coincidence that Barak is himself a diabetic. Or that he has committed 50% of the net proceeds of THE AMENDMENT KILLER to diabetes research and education.

Barak is singularly qualified to have authored THE AMENDMENT KILLER, which will appeal to political and legal thriller aficionados alike. Barak is a law school honors graduate and a former Olympic athlete. While still in law school, he authored a bill introduced in Congress that overnight forced the settlement of a decades long dispute between the NCAA and the AAU to control amateur athletics in the United States.

Present-day politicians would do well to read THE AMENDMENT KILLER and not underestimate the potential of Barak’s 28th Amendment. You can read his 28th Amendment at ronaldsbarak.com/28th-amendment-page-2. You can also read his occasional political blogs at ronaldsbarak.com/blog.

Ron and his wife, Barbie, and the four-legged members of their family reside in Pacific Palisades, California.

Connect: WEBSITE | TWITTER | FACEBOOK

Spotlight: Petals by Laurisa White Reyes

On Christmas Eve, a horrific car accident leaves Carly Perez without a mom. After a year of surgeries and counseling, Carly’s life is nearly back to normal—except for the monsters—vague, twisted images from the accident that plague her dreams. When her father insists on spending their first Christmas alone in Guatemala with a slew of relatives Carly has never met, she is far from thrilled, but she reluctantly boards the plane anyway.

That’s where she first spots the man with the scarred face. She could swear she has seen him before. But when? Where?

In Reu, the Guatemalan town where her father grew up, Carly meets Miguel, her attractive step-cousin, and thinks maybe vacation won’t be a total waste after all. Though she is drawn to him, Carly’s past holds her back—memories that refuse to be forgotten, and a secret about the accident that remains buried in her subconscious. And everywhere she turns, the man with the scarred face is there, driving that unwelcome secret to the surface.

Excerpt

“Trust me, Carly. You’ll love Guatemala,” he said. He was relentless. “It won’t be so bad, spending Christmas there.” He poured the rest of the nuts into his mouth and chewed.

Personally, I had serious doubts about spending nearly a month in a third world country where half the people lived in mud huts.

“It’s a great place,” Dad continued. “Lush jungles, ancient ruins, coconuts—”

Malaria, sauna-like heat, amoebas—

“All I ask is that you give it a chance, Carly. Give them a chance.”

Them. The so-called family I never knew. For all my seventeen years, they had been nothing more than pictures on the mantle. Dad rarely spoke of them, so why he chose our first Christmas since Mom died to change the status quo was beyond me.

“Why did I have to come?” I asked, my frustration piquing. “I’m old enough to man the house while you’re away. I can take care of myself.”

“We already went over this, Carly. They want to meet you. It’s important to me that they do.”

“If they’re so important, then why haven’t you seen them in two decades?” I didn’t expect an answer. I just wanted to get Dad off my back. But instead, he shrugged his shoulders and gave me an apologetic grin.

“Let’s just say we had our differences,” he said.

The flight attendant returned, this time offering a pillow. She was still smiling. At least the red mark on her teeth was gone.

I took the pillow and arranged it behind my neck. Dad took one as well, tucking it behind his head. I should have been glad to finally have some quiet time to myself, but curiosity got the better of me. I leaned over and whispered.

“What differences?”

“Go to sleep,” said Dad.

“What differences?” I asked again.

“Carly, it’s almost one in the morning. Even if you’re not tired, I am. Let me get some sleep. Okay?”

I looked around and realized that most of the other passengers had already dozed off.

“Do you need your pills?” Dad asked.

I shook my head. “If I take them now, I’ll be a zombie by the time we land.”

Although, maybe Guatemala won’t seem so bad if I’m in a drugged-out stupor.

“Night, Carly,” said Dad. Five minutes later, he was snoring.

Across the aisle, Raisin Face had a magazine open on his lap. He licked his thumb before turning each page. I didn’t realize I was staring until he turned abruptly to look at me. Our eyes locked, and in that sliver of a moment, my heart threatened to explode right out of my ribcage. I broke away from his gaze and jerked opened my own magazine, pretending to be absorbed in it.

When my heart returned to its normal rhythm, I set the magazine aside, turned on my music, and leaned back against the pillow. I closed my eyes, but thoughts kept racing through my head. I wanted to look at him again, to study his face and give my brain time to place him.

Is he watching me? I wondered. Does he recognize me too?

After a while, I started to relax. Oblivion was calling, but I desperately clung to consciousness, like a mountain climber gripping a rock by her fingernails while dangling above a precipice. The fall was inevitable, but I strained to hold on. It wasn’t that I had trouble sleeping, but the pills kept the monsters at bay.

Finally, unable to fight it any longer, I surrendered. Falling into sleep, I struggled to recall just where I had seen that man’s face before.

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About the Author

Laurisa White Reyes is the author of the 2016 Spark Award winning novel The Storytellers, as well as The Celestine Chronicles and The Crystal Keeper series. She lives in Southern California where she teaches English at College of the Canyons.

Connect: Website | Blogspot | Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

The author is running this tour alongside her fundraiser for Casa de Sion, an orphanage/charity in Guatemala, which is where the book is set. She is donating $1.00 for every book sold and also $1.00 for every review of Petals posted on Amazon or Goodreads throughout the month of November to Casa de Sion. Her goal is to raise $200. More specific details can be found here: 

http://laurisareyes.blogspot.com/2017/09/new-cover-reveal-and-fundraiser-your.html

What can $200 do?
...feed a mother and child for six months
...buy shoes for 15+ children
 ...educate a child for 1/2 a year
 ...and more!

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Spotlight: Love In Dublin by Jennifer Gracen

When an emotionally adrift single dad from Dublin meets an upbeat, free spirited American travel writer, opposites more than attract. She thinks she’s saving him... but as they fall into a passionate affair, they may learn healing goes both ways.

Single father Colin McKinnon has roots and obligations that have kept him firmly in Dublin his entire life. He once planned to explore the world, but he was bound by duty and gave up on his dreams long ago. When he meets free-spirited American travel writer Maggie in a pub, he’s intrigued. She could help him get a taste of what he lost, rattle the chains of his self-imposed isolation. Instantly drawn to her light, beauty, and sense of adventure, Colin can’t stay away.

Maggie Spencer doesn’t just crave the open road, she needs it to survive. After a harrowing accident and life-changing loss, she rebuilt her life by exploring new places on her own. When she accepts a temporary job writing about day tours in Ireland, she falls in love with Dublin and the man she teaches to explore it. Through their daily adventures, they learn opposites do more than just attract—they can also help each other heal.

But can a man with deep roots keep a woman with wings by his side?

Excerpt

Copyright © Jennifer Gracen 2017

As she opened her mouth to say goodbye and thank him for joining her, Colin asked her if she’d have dinner with him.

Her heart skipped a beat. The way he was looking at her… he didn’t want the day to end yet either. Maybe he was ready for more than she thought? “Dinner? But you just spent all weekend with me.” She tossed him a playful grin as she joked, “Aren’t you tired of me by now?”

“No,” he said. The corners of his mouth turned up, a hint of sheepish and a lot of sexy. He stood there patiently, just gazing down at her.

Her heart fluttered. God, he was adorable. A knotted up burly bear with a sweet, kind heart. And lips she was dying to taste. And beautiful blue eyes that showed there was so much more on his mind than the short, polite things he said.

The noises of the city—cars driving, people walking by and talking, horns and shouts on the air—seemed to fade away as she stared back at him.

“I have to admit,” he said quietly, “I do enjoy your company.”

Delight and want made her stomach give a wobbly flip. She finally gave in to the impulse she’d been squelching all day. She dropped her duffel bag to the ground by her feet, placed her hands on his shoulders, and stood on her tiptoes to sweetly brush her lips across his.

“What are you doin’?” he whispered against her mouth, his eyes wide.

“Kissing you in the middle of Dublin.” She pressed her lips to his softly and his breath

hitched. Loving that, she did that again, lips brushing against his with a feather’s touch.

“Confession: I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day.”

“Is that so?” Amazement sparked in his eyes. His hands slowly lifted to her face.

“Mm hmm.” Her heart started racing, adrenaline coursing through her. His fingertips stroked her cheeks as his gaze locked with hers.

She kissed him again, still soft and gentle, still testing, gaging his reactions. His body was tense, holding back, but his eyes revealed how much he wanted her. As usual, there was so much going on in those bright blues… but right now, desire was the winner there, clear as day. It gave her a rush and she shivered from it.

“Actually,” she said, “the full truth is, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks.”

His gaze burned into her. His hands slowly swept along her jaw, then cupped her face.

“Well… if we’re being truthful, I’ve been wantin’ to kiss you for weeks too.”

“Then you should,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “I mean, I already kissed you first…”

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About Jennifer Gracen

Jennifer Gracen hails from Long Island, New York, where she lives with her two sons. After spending her youth writing in private and singing in public, she now only sings in her car and is immersed in her passion for writing. She loves to write contemporary romance for readers who look for authentic characters and satisfying endings. When she isn’t with her kids, doing freelance proofreading, or chatting on Twitter and Facebook, Jennifer writes. She’s already hard at work on her next book.

Connect with Jennifer: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Google+

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Read an excerpt from Breaking Grace by Rose Devereaux

Two years ago, I murdered the love of Grace Garrett’s life.
 
I had it all – a thriving company, money, women at my beck and call. Then I shot and killed James Winthrop. And got away with it.
 
His beautiful fiancé is ruined, so damaged she’s destroying herself.  And I’m the reason why.
 
Nothing and nobody can save her. Except me. Only I know how to help her start again. By wiping the slate clean. Breaking her down until she’s brand new. And rewarding her obedience with the one thing she truly needs. Vengeance against me.

Excerpt

It gives me a corrupt pleasure to imagine how she feels as I approach.  Her ear turned toward the awful sound.  Her heart throbbing in time with my steps.  My heavy stride coming closer until it stops right outside her door.

I’m enjoying my power way too much already, and I’ve barely begun to use it.

I stand in the hallway.  She’s just a few feet away.  Mere inches.  She has no idea what I’ve already done to her.  How hard I came while she lay like a stunned bird in bed next to me.  

Eyes pinned to her face, I pressed her tiny hand to my chest.  I talked to her while I pumped my fist, hoping somewhere in her senseless mind, she could hear me.   

“You know what this big cock could do to you, baby girl?  See how much come I have for you?”  

I raise my thumb to the sensor by the door and press it.  I can feel her fear through the wall.  Energy surges through me, a second wind so strong it makes me sweat.  My exhaustion is gone.  I’m high on what’s about to happen.  I’ll be all that matters in her world in three…two…one.   

The door swings open slowly.  I’m wired.  My body feels tight and ready to spring.  

Light from the hall spills into the dark room.  She’s standing under the window with her forearms clutched to her chest.  I can see her pale, slim legs and long neck.  The white wisp of a robe barely covers her.  

Her breathing is quick but soft.  In a moment, that will change.

I press another sensor and the light springs on overhead.  I’ve been waiting hours for this moment.  Fucking years.  

I have just enough time to appreciate the captive specimen of femininity in front of me before her pupils dilate and the blood drains from her face.  Clutching the lapels of the robe, she shrinks away.  

“What the fuck,” she hisses.  

She backs up until the wall jolts her shoulder blades.  Silky auburn strands fall over one eye.

“Hello, Grace.”  

I step inside and shut the door.  The lock clicks.   

“You fucking criminal,” she spits out.  “You kidnapped me.”  Her voice is scratchy but still soft and high.  As if it never caught up when her body developed.  

“I’m sure that’s how it looks,” I say.  

Her hands clench into trembling fists.  “Stay away from me.”

Fear suffuses her skin, turning her chest and neck a deep red.  Her bright, aqua eyes never leave my face.  Her whole body is vibrating.  

Suddenly, with a sharp intake of breath, she starts to scream.  

The sound pierces my brain like a baby’s cry.  Her pretty pink tongue quivers and her white, straight teeth open and clench.  

Poor thing.  She’s so beautiful, bathed, and dolled up for me.  A wretch gone astray.  A fatherless filly who’s wandered into a lion’s den.     

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About the Author

Rose Devereux writes shamelessly dark romance. In her other life, she is a traditionally published author whose books have been translated into five languages. Reviews of her novels have appeared in Cosmopolitan, The Boston Globe, New York Magazine, and the Associated Press. She loves animals, sleeping late, and alpha males, and would drink Prosecco every day at lunch if she could. She lives in Boston and New Hampshire.

Connect: Goodreads  |  Facebook  |  Website

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