Spotlight: The Torc by J.E. Hunter

Forgotten Treasures Hold Forbidden Dangers... 

Aurora Daniels has just finished her first year of university and is ready for summer fun when she meets Garret, the mysterious older brother of her best friend, Ivy. Garret isn't what Aurora expected, yet her connection to him is undeniable. But something lurks beneath Garret's charming exterior, a danger that Rory isn't prepared for. 

As Rory spends more time with Ivy and her brother, she grows closer to Garret, until the undeniable attraction turns into something more. But a relationship with a cursed soul isn't simple. As Garret's mysteries are slowly revealed, Rory learns that she isn't all that Garret wants. He wants something else, too. Something that would mean giving up her family and her future to undertake a dangerous journey through a land lost in mist and fog. A journey that will change her life forever. A journey that might lead her to her grave.

Excerpt

My iPhone directed me to Ivy's place. There was a long gravel drive leading off the highway in the direction of the river. Just as I spotted the house in the distance, I came upon a gate. The gate was made from black wrought iron, affixed on both sides by short brick walls. The gate and wall wouldn’t have stopped anyone from gaining access to the property if they really wanted to, but it looked nice. Official.

The gate was open and I drove straight through, past rows of small hedges. Beyond the hedges were fields of green wheat. I knew that Ivy and her brother weren’t farmers, but they owned all of the land surrounding the estate and rented it out to farmers, keeping only the house for themselves. The house was built well away from the river valley—which I could see curving off in the distance—to ensure that it was built on a solid foundation. As I approached the house, I sucked in a deep breath.  Two stories, bricked exterior—which was practically unheard of in the prairies—and lots of large, bright windows. The brick was grey and the shingles were black, and the porch was small and held up by two columns bricked in the same material as the rest of the house. I pulled up in front, driving around a small, circular roundabout of baby pine trees that weren’t even close to the giants they would be one day. There were a few groups of bushes in the distance, and a bright green, manicured lawn around the house. 

Ivy ran out the front door—a broad, black thing—with a gorgeous smile on her face. "Welcome to Chateau Creepsville!" she said as I stepped out of the car. 

"It does have a certain gothic air about it.” I rested my arm on top of the car and glanced up at the exterior. “But it’s gorgeous. And huge!”

The sun was bright and hot, but the house was like a dark spot in the middle of a spotlight. I'd never seen a house like it before, except maybe the one time my parents had taken me to the United Kingdom. The house was entirely out of place on the prairie, and would have fit in much better somewhere near York—the city I’d visited with my parents. 

“Yeah, some crazy old guy built it. Garret got it on sale. I don't think anyone else wanted it on account of the ghost." Ivy laughed when I looked her. "Don't worry," she said with a wink, "I'm sure it's a friendly ghost. Leave your car here, Gil can move it later." Ivy pulled opened the back door of my car and loaded her arms up with my stuff. 

I opened the other side and grabbed my suitcase while nursing my latte. "Who's Gil?"

Ivy frowned. "I haven't mentioned him? Well, he's our butler, for lack of a better word. Though maybe you would consider him Garret's personal assistant?"

“Your brother has an assistant?" I glanced up at the house again, looking for a face in one of the many windows, but there were none. The house could have been entirely empty for all I knew. "I mean, I’ve never met your brother, and now I find out he has an assistant? He must be pretty important.” 

Ivy ah-hummed as she stepped into the house. The entrance was grand. A black and white checkered floor filled the space between two staircases, one running up each side of the foyer. A chandelier hung from the double height ceiling above. There was a decorative table to my right with a mirror hung above it and fake plants set on top. Not the tacky kind, but the expensive kind that you had to touch in order to know if they were real or not.

"Let's go put this stuff in your room and then I’ll give you the grand tour,” Ivy said. “Garret's still sleeping so we'll have to be quiet. He works with the other side of the world so his schedule’s completely backward.”

 Ivy led me up the staircase to my left. It was covered in plush, heavy carpet that was so clean I thought it might never have been stepped on. It had a Persian rug-type design of deep red and golds, which complimented the white walls with their black trim. It was the kind of house you'd see in a designer magazine. The decorations were slightly eccentric but came off as totally stylish. Not that it was a house, really, but more of a mansion, or an estate. Was there really any difference? No matter what word I used, the house would still be enormous. Up the stairs, the air was crisp and smelled like tropical waterfalls. Plenty of natural light poured in from the open windows. On the second floor, Ivy again turned left. We passed two open rooms, one on each side. The first was a library, filled wall to wall with books. A solitary writing desk was placed directly under the window and in the centre of the room were two armchairs facing each other. The second room was a home gym complete with a pilates machine. At the end of the hall was a large bathroom, with a glittering, white marble floor. 

"This is my room," Ivy said, indicating to the left. Her door was open, displaying a perfect room complete with canopy bed and lilac purple carpet. There were deep purple curtains and a leather chaise in the far corner facing a wall-mounted television. "I've decided you should be in this room," Ivy said, opening the door on the other side. It swung open, revealing a space so blue that I felt like I was underwater. All the walls were a deep, royal navy colour, but the bed was so white and soft looking that it could have been a cloud. There was a papasan chair tucked into the corner, and a small dresser, also white, under the window. 

"It's gorgeous!" I said, rolling my suitcase into the room. "I feel like I'm staying in a hotel, not at my best friend’s house."

"I hope it feels a bit more homey than that!" Ivy said, a touch of sadness in her voice. 

"Definitely homier," I said with a smile. 

Ivy walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing her legs underneath her. Her jean shorts and blue t-shirt matched the room, but the pink streaks she must have painted in her hair that morning did not. 

"Thanks again for inviting me," I said. "I didn't realize how it would feel to drop my parents off at the airport. I thought I would be more excited but..."

"You felt a bit abandoned?" Ivy suggested when I didn't finish my sentence. 

I nodded. 

"I get it," Ivy said. "Come on. Leave your stuff here. I want to show you the garden."

I followed Ivy back downstairs. We didn't go to the west side of the second story, since Ivy said that was where Garret was sleeping. I bit my lip, wanting to meet this mysterious older brother. The one who had raised Ivy since the death of their parents when Garret was seven and Ivy was a baby. Someone must have looked after them before Garret was of age, though it had never occurred to me before. Ivy might understand my current emotional state, because her past had been much worse. My parents were just going on vacation. I couldn't imagine how I would feel if they never made it back. 

From the foyer, we headed to the back of the house and into a bright, spacious kitchen. Cast iron pots hung from the ceiling and deep wooden counters stretched along the walls. I was startled to see an older gentleman cutting up a flank of meat. He looked up and caught me with two sharp, dark eyes. 

“Ah, our guest has finally arrived.” He spoke with a slight accent that sounded upper class—surprising for an assistant. The man placed the long, sharp knife he was holding down beside the raw flesh, and slipped off a blood-splattered glove to hold a hand out to me. He was much taller than I was, which was surprising since I was nearly five-foot-nine. He only smiled with one side of his face, and his eyes remained dark, assessing.

“Aurora, this is Gil, Garret’s assistant. He does most of the cooking.” Ivy indicated the man who could have been anywhere between the age of fifty and seventy-five. She didn’t look at him, however, but stared past him at the set of French doors at the back of the kitchen. 

I was frozen, a little appalled at the idea of taking the hand that had been so recently butchering meat. I reminded myself that he’d been wearing gloves, and shook hands with him to be polite. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. 

Gil tilted his head down toward me. He was thin, but rigid with sinuous muscle. He had shallow cheeks and short grey hair. “It’s a pleasure, of course.” He spoke slowly, his voice was deep. 

“We’re just going out to the garden.” Suddenly, Ivy was at my side, pulling me toward the sunlight streaming in through the open doors. When had that happened? I felt strangely disjointed, like I’d been staring too long out a window, lost in thought, when I’d only just spent a second shaking Gil’s hand. 

“I’ve put the recliners out by the fountain for you and your guest.” Gil half-smiled at me again. I looked away, a unsettled tingling in my lungs. “There’s a carafe of sangria out there, too, and some snacks, since supper won’t be served until nine o’clock, as per your brother’s instructions.” Gil slipped the glove back on and went back to chopping the meat. 

I stepped out of the kitchen and into the sun, but still I shivered. It was warm enough that I would need a generous layer of sunscreen to keep from burning, but I felt chilled, and decided to forget the lotion for the moment. 

I warmed up quickly enough as Ivy led me through a waist-high maze of hedges, back toward a large, circular fountain. There were rose bushes around the edges of a small gravelled area, a few choice sculptures of cherubs, and two lounge chairs, just as Gil had said there would be. There was also a pitcher of sangria. 

“Gil mixes drinks for you?” I settled into the chair furthest from the house. Out in the country, it was quiet. The prairie sky was blue and peaceful. A few birds chirped from the hedges, and there was the slight burble from the fountain, but that was it for noise. The sounds succeeded in chasing away any lingering feelings of uneasiness.

Ivy laughed and gave me a naughty look. “Of course. Gil does everything. Personally, I could have gone for margaritas, but sangria will do. Before my brother forced me to move here, I was living in Spain. Everyone drinks sangria in Spain. At least, everyone I know does.” Ivy poured me a goblet full of the deep red liquid, and I took a generous sip to steady my nerves. I’d expected Ivy to come from money, she’d never hid that, not exactly. But I hadn’t expected her house to be an amazingly decorated gothic mansion. I laid back in my chair and looked up at the house. I could only see the western half, and the window I imagined was Garret’s. He was six years older than Ivy and a complete mystery. I couldn’t wait to meet him.

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About the Author

J.E. Hunter lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, and began writing as an excuse to stay inside during the cold winters. Her favorite season is the fall, and her favorite hot beverage is currently a peppermint mocha. Most recently, J.E. Hunter released The Torc, the first book in the Artifacts of Avalum romantic adventure series. She is also the author of the Black Depths Series, which consists of five books, beginning with Sea-Witch. When not writing, J. E. Hunter can be found reading, walking through spooky woods, drinking coffee and coloring books, or listening to audiobooks at the gym.

Connect: Website│Goodreads│Twitter│Instagram

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Spotlight: The Once and Future Queen by Nicole Evelina

Guinevere’s journey from literary sinner to feminist icon took over one thousand years…and it’s not over yet.

Literature tells us painfully little about Guinevere, mostly focusing on her sin and betrayal of Arthur and Camelot. As a result, she is often seen as a one-dimensional character. But there is more to her story. By examining popular works of more than 20 authors over the last one thousand years, The Once and Future Queen shows how Guinevere reflects attitudes toward women during the time in which her story was written, changing to suit the expectations of her audience. Beginning in Celtic times and continuing through the present day, this book synthesizes academic criticism and popular opinion into a highly readable, approachable work that fills a gap in Arthurian material available to the general public.

Nicole Evelina has spent more than 15 years studying Arthurian legend. She is also a feminist known for her fictional portrayals of strong historical and legendary women, including Guinevere. Now, she combines these two passions to examine the effect of changing times and attitudes on the character of Guinevere in a must-read book for Arthurian enthusiasts of every knowledge level.

Excerpt

INTRODUCTION

The name “Guinevere” conjures up evocative images from the pages of literature and the celluloid frames of film. From the long-haired queen weeping in contrition at Arthur’s feet while a heartbroken Lancelot looks on, to the ermine-clad Vanessa Redgrave singing a prayer to St. Genevieve while opining the simple joys of maidenhood, she does nothing by halves. Whether a reader first encounters her in the works of Thomas Malory or in a modern movie or TV adaptation, one thing is clear: Queen Guinevere is a woman to be reckoned with. She will not easily be lost within the pages of history, even if her better-known husband threatens to eclipse her and her reputation is lost in favor of tawdry remembrances of her sin.

History has proven Guinevere will not go down without a fight. Over the last thousand years, she has become a symbol of each society for which she is written, taking on its mores,

personifying its deepest fears, and providing a warning: take heed lest you too become a victim of sin. In more recent years, as women have come to demand an equal place in society, she has

become a symbol of feminism, the queen who owns her sexuality and isn’t willing to apologize for taking what she wants from life. To some, she is still a man-eater (as T. H. White famously dubbed her), but to others, she is the model of liberated womanhood they so desperately seek.

While the main subject of this book is the evolution of the character of Guinevere, it will also, by necessity, touch upon the roles of women, feminism, and the subject of religion; each is tightly interwoven with how Guinevere is portrayed by her authors. Religion, up until the last century or so, was a vital part of society and the everyday life of most people in Europe and the Americas. As such, it unconsciously affected the way they read Guinevere’s actions and the consequences she deserved. So when the Catholic Church became involved in crafting the Arthurian legend in the twelfth century, Guinevere took on the role of scapegoat for Arthur’s downfall, becoming both a victim of her own lust and the willing perpetrator of evil—the Eve for the world of Camelot. It is only when religion becomes less important to an increasingly secular society that Guinevere begins to be redeemed.

Likewise, the role of women in society was a given until women started to enter the workplace during World War I and later, in the 1970s, began to demand equal treatment outside the home. So it is not surprising that Guinevere started out as a peripheral character who was there to do her husband’s bidding and, at best, entertain his knights. Throughout the Middle Ages and even into the beginning of the twentieth century, women were treated as second class citizens whose role was to serve their husbands and bear children. While Guinevere excelled at the former, being barren, she failed to fulfill one of the key duties assigned to her as a woman and a queen: to bear a child. As such, she is fundamentally tainted, virtually predisposed to evil and weakness, as though she bore an extra original sin that doomed her to an unsavory fate.

As women began to fight for their rights in the 1970s and 1980s, Guinevere slowly emerged from the shadows, becoming a woman with a full backstory, a childhood, opinions and agendas

of her own, and a life after King Arthur’s death. With this success as a backdrop, authors of the twenty-first century felt freer to experiment with well-known aspects of the Arthurian

story in order to gild their Guinevere with the sex appeal and strength needed to attract an increasingly literature-deficient and mentally-distracted generation. This is due in no small part to the fact that from the mid- 1980s onward, the authors of Guinevere’s story began, for the

first time in history, to be predominately female. Women writing the female experience brought a whole new perspective to the character, a well-roundedness that male authors could not hope to

achieve. As Sara Cooley notes in her thesis, “it is because these male authors, more often than not, did write women, and wrote them terribly, in ways that are not only frustrating, but also damaging, that we must revisit the canon through a feminist perspective.” Elsewhere, she continues, “While we will never know firsthand what it is like to be a queen, or a high priestess, or a knight errant we will know it better than any man who has ever failed to write as such” or, as any man wrote us as such through male eyes.

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About the Author

Nicole Evelina is a multi-award-winning historical fiction, romantic comedy and non-fiction writer, whose four novels have collectively won over 20 awards, including two Book of the Year designations (Daughter of Destiny by Chanticleer Reviews and Camelot’s Queen by Author’s Circle). Her most recent book, THE ONCE AND FUTURE QUEEN, traces the evolution of the character of Guinevere in Arthurian legend from her Celtic roots to the present day, showing how the character changed along with the period’s views of women. Nicole is currently working on MISTRESS OF LEGEND (2018), the final book in her Guinevere’s Tale trilogy.

As an armchair historian, Nicole researches her books extensively, consulting with biographers, historical societies and traveling to locations when possible. For example, she traveled to England twice to research the Guinevere’s Tale trilogy, where she consulted with internationally acclaimed author and historian Geoffrey Ashe, as well as Arthurian/Glastonbury expert Jaime George, the man who helped Marion Zimmer Bradley research The Mists of Avalon.

Nicole is a member of and book reviewer for The Historical Novel Society, as well as a member of the Historical Fiction Writers of America, International Arthurian Society – North American Branch, Romantic Novelists Association, Novelists, Inc., the St. Louis Writer’s Guild, Alliance of Independent Authors, the Independent Book Publishers Association and the Midwest Publisher’s Association.

For more information, please visit Nicole Evelina’s website. You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, and Goodreads. Sign up for Nicole’s newsletter to receive news and updates.

The Once and Future Queen

Read an excerpt from Standing Sideways by J Lynn Bailey

When Livia Stone suddenly loses her twin brother, Jasper, she must learn to navigate her new life alone. As she faces tragedy and starts down a road toward self-destruction, Daniel enters Livia’s life—at a moment when she needs it most. 

Standing Sideways is a poignant, relevant, and touching story of survival, courage, and compassion that will have readers crying, laughing, and most of all, debating the issues affecting the lives of parents and teens alike on a journey of hope and forgiveness.

Excerpt

Daniel’s bare chest rises and falls. His breath is the sweet scent of mint. I want to tell him I’ll most likely break his heart because of the alcohol. Just like my father did to my mother. My brother. And me.

I’ve seen what addiction can do. But, in this moment, I know he needs me, and I, him. I tell myself I’ll allow our bodies to coil around each other in order to mask his sadness. Let him feel me the way he needs to—with his hands, his legs, his chest, the shell of a boy who won’t ever be the same.

The poor, poor boy whose mother died too young, people will say.

I try to push my heart out of this, not let it connect with his, so I don’t look into his eyes.

How did this happen so quickly?

My head resting on his bare chest, his arms tighten around my body, and I feel a drop of his sadness land on my cheek.

And I allow one of my own to fall, too.

Telling Daniel about his father asking me to stay away wouldn’t be appropriate now. Neither would asking about Sienna.

So, we stand here as the sky welcomes the moon and the hour count to morning begins. The days of loss. Where the days turn into nights and the nights into days without so much of a blink of an eye. Where dates blend and months blur. And life seems to unravel.

Standing here with Daniel, I’ve never felt this way about Simon as he pushed inside me. Nor did I feel the tremble that went along with Simon’s when he finished. I forced the bad feelings away through touch and allowed an unspoken need on both parts to be filled. An escape, a getaway, only to be met with the demoralization once I awoke from my momentary state of euphoria.

But this?

This is something so much more. Nothing like the feeling I got when Ben Novak, my first boyfriend, rammed his tongue down my throat. Or the time Lee Cunningham touched my boob on accident at Whitney’s pool party during the summer of our freshman year. I didn’t feel it between my legs, like I do now.

This isn’t Simon.

Or Ben.

Or Lee.

Or any other boy for that matter.

This is Daniel.

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About the Author

J. Lynn Bailey has loved to write since she learned to read, around the second grade. When she isn't running after her children, watching COPS, or on the hunt for her next Laffy Taffy joke, you can probably find her holed up in her writing room feverishly working on her next book. She lives in Northern California with her family.

Connect: Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | My Website

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Spotlight: Redeeming Lottie by Melissa Ellen

Redeeming Lottie

by Melissa Ellen Publication Date: February 1, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Purchase: Amazon | Kobo | iBooks

Things I never planned on happening in my life: Getting married, being a mother to a house full of kids, and returning to my small hometown of Billingsley, Texas. I especially never planned on seeing Tucker Monroe again. Sexy smile. Country charm. A man and a life I left behind for a reason. The only plan I had for myself was my career. A buyer for one of the largest high end department stores was the only commitment I had time for. The only one I was willing to make. Now, being left with no choice but to return to Billingsley, I’m finding it hard to remember why I left in the first place. Because all that’s on my mind is Tucker. He is just as sexy. Just as charming. Just as dangerous as he used to be…

About Melissa Ellen

I’m the author of The Blackwood Series. I grew up as a book worm, reading anything and everything and still try to read at least a book a week. I’ve always had an active imagination. Luckily, I now have time to put it to good use into stories that are constantly swarming around in my head. When I’m not writing, you can find me working on architecture projects, buried in a book with a glass of wine (or coffee), playing with my adorable son (I’m not partial at all…his adorableness is a fact), laughing with my hot husband (another fact), or tackling my latest DIY project (and by that I mean putting my hot husband to work).

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Youtube

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Spotlight: Reckless by Michelle Horst

I was in love with the boy. I’m obsessed with the man.

Logan is my older brother’s best friend.

My teenage years were spent dreaming about our future together.

He taught me how to kiss. He stayed up late with me while I studied. He escorted me to the prom.

But he is one of the Screw Crew and they only have one rule. I’m off limits.

I went to college and he started working. The secret messages stopped and I lost my first love before it even had a chance.

I’ve spent the past four years trying to forget the only man I’ll ever love. Just as I start to make a life for myself, guess who comes barging back into my life?

Excerpt

Feeling dejected I walk to my room. I hate being the odd one out. Nicole didn’t stop gushing about her first kiss with Derek. Soon all the girls were comparing their kissing experiences and all I could do was hope no one would notice that I had nothing to say.
“Hey, did you have a bad day?”
My head snaps up at hearing Logan’s question. My heart skips a beat like it always does whenever he’s around.
“It’s nothing. Did you all skip class again?” I ask, wondering why they’re here so early on a Friday afternoon.
“No, it was canceled. There’s a game tonight.” Logan tilts his head and his eyes search my face. When he looks at me like that I can almost pretend he might see the real me. “Want to talk about it?”
I want to talk to him but not about what happened today, so instead of answering I just shrug. I walk into my room and drop my bag on the floor.
Logan comes in and I’m surprised when he sits down on my bed. Suddenly I’m nervous as hell and all I can do is stand like a pillar of salt while awkwardly wondering if he would think it’s weird if I sit next to him.
“Talk to me, Mia. I might be able to help and worse case I can listen.”
My thoughts go back to how stupid I felt while the girls were all laughing.
Secure in the knowledge that Logan has no idea how I feel about him, I look down at my feet and mumble, “I haven’t kissed anyone yet and today all my friends were talking about their first kisses. It felt like …” I let the words trail away, too embarrassed to continue.
“You felt like?” Logan stands up and walks to where I am. When I don’t answer him, he gently places a finger under my chin and lifts my face so I have to look at him.
“It felt like …” I swallow hard, feeling more sad than embarrassed that I’m having this conversation with Logan. “I’m fat and ugly. I know that’s why none of the guys will even look at me. Today it just felt like it was out there for everyone to see.”
Logan leans around me and he shuts the door. I glance at the closed door and then look back to him, a thankful smile on my face. I didn’t even think about the other guys being in the house. I don’t want them to hear about my day.
When Logan tucks some hair behind my ear my heart flutters. I have such a huge crush on him.
“You’re not fat and you sure as hell aren’t ugly, Mia.”
I try to keep the smile on my face and nod. Of course, he’ll say that. I’m Rhett’s baby sister.
“Don’t do that.” He brings both his hands to my neck and with his palms he nudges my jaw so I’ll look up again.
“It’s okay. It just sucks that I don’t know how to kiss. What if I meet a guy who wants to kiss me and I mess it up?”
“Is that what’s really bothering you?”
He’s so patient with me that it warms my heart.
“Yeah. I don’t want to look like an idiot.”
I can see he’s thinking hard about something, but I’m not complaining because his hands are still on my neck. I love it when he touches me. I resist the urge to close my eyes so I can just bask in the feel of his hands on me.
“Do you want to learn how to kiss?”
I think about his question, not sure what he’s actually asking me.
“It’s not like I can go for lessons somewhere,” I whisper.
“I can show you.”
For a second I can only stare at him. Did he just offer to teach me how to kiss? I have to remind myself to breathe as excitement rushes through my body.
I nod and almost stutter, “Would you be okay with that?” I’m so thankful when the words come out sounding normal.
He drops his hands from my neck and smiles. It’s not his usual friendly smile. This time there’s a softness to it that actually makes me feel more nervous.
“Of course I’m okay with it.”
Duh … I want to kick myself. Logan’s just offering to help because he’s friends with Rhett. It’s not like it means anything to him. It doesn’t stop me from feeling excited. Even if it means nothing to him, it will still be a dream come true for me.
When he takes a step closer to me and places a hand on the back of my neck, my mouth instantly goes bone dry. My whole body tenses as I wait for his next move.
“It’s normal to feel nervous when you’re about to kiss someone for the first time, but try to relax. If you worry too much about it you’ll end up missing out on the whole experience.”
I nod, unable to form any coherent words right now.
Tilting his head to the right, he leans closer until I can feel his breath on my lips. I stop breathing and stare at his mouth as if it holds the answer to all the mysteries of the universe.
My insides are quivering with nerves and I can feel my hands shaking. My heart is beating so loudly it’s all I can hear.
Slowly he closes the distance until his lips press softly against mine. Everything stops. The loud thumping in my ears, the quivering inside of me, and even the shaking of my hands. There’s only the perfect silence surrounding us as I feel the warmth of his lips on my own.
I jerk when I feel his tongue on my bottom lip. I didn’t expect it and I flush bright red when he pulls away from me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, both embarrassed and sad that I ruined the moment.
Logan shakes his head as a sexy smile plays around his mouth.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says in a low tone that makes the quivering return with force. “This time open your mouth slightly and focus on what I do.”
Again I can only nod, ecstatic that he’s going to kiss me again.
This time he moves much quicker. He brushes his lips against mine as he takes a step that presses his body right up against me. It’s a sensory overload as I try to take in what his body and mouth feel like all at once.
His tongue traces my bottom lip again and I almost don’t remember to open my mouth. When my lips part he slips his tongue into my mouth and it makes tingles explode in my stomach. It’s so overwhelming that I can’t focus on anything.
He starts to caress my tongue with his own which makes my hands grab at his sides so I have something to hold onto or else I’ll drop to the floor.
Softly, he bites my bottom lip and I take a shuddering breath in response to the incredible feelings engulfing every part of me.
He brings his other hand to my jaw and with his body he pushes me back until I’m up against the wall. This time when his tongue slips into my mouth, I’m not as overwhelmed and I try to mimic his movements.
Soon I’m so lost in kissing Logan that I forget it’s not real. I move one hand up his body until I reach his neck, and I drink in the feel of his skin under my fingertips. This moment is everything … it’s heaven.
It’s over too soon as he starts to pull away, pressing one last soft kiss to my tingling lips.
He pulls me into a tight hug and whispers, “You’re beautiful, Mia, and you’re going to make some lucky bastard very happy.”

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About the Author

Michelle Horst is a Bestselling Romance Author who likes her books hot, dirty, and with a touch of darkness. She loves an alpha hero who is not scared to fight for his woman.

Want to be up to date with what’s happening in Michelle’s world? Sign up to receive the latest news on her alpha hero releases, sales, and great giveaways → http://eepurl.com/cUXM_P

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Spotlight: One More Promise by Samantha Chase

Dylan Anders is making amends

…to his family

…to the public

…to the woman who just walked into his life

Paige Walters must learn to forgive

…her busy father

…her bossy sister

…and the wonderful man she horribly misjudged

Ambitious Paige Walters is ecstatic when she's hired to recruit musicians for a literacy campaign—it's her chance to prove she's got the chops to make it in the family business. When Dylan steps in, she immediately dislikes him and vows not to let the fallen idol screw it up. But as the work brings Paige and Dylan closer together, their attraction grows…and so do their challenges…

Excerpt

She managed to walk all of two steps when Dylan stepped in front of her. She gasped and looked up at his face.

His very angry face.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded.

“Me?” she cried. “What are you talking about?”

“You just walked out of the event that you planned! People were calling after you and you didn’t even slow down!”

Had they? She hadn’t noticed.

“I was done,” she said simply. “I’m tired, and now my ankle hurts, and as I said a few minutes ago, I wasn’t needed. I didn’t think it was a big deal to leave.”

The look Dylan gave her showed that he didn’t believe her one bit. “Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Paige, if there is one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that everything is a big deal to you—especially this literacy thing. So don’t bullshit me, okay? If you’re pissed about your sister stealing your thunder, then just say so. I’m not gonna argue with you on that one. I think it was a rotten thing for her to do.”

Part of her melted a little at his words, but she already knew he was on her side where that was concerned. And rather than feel good about it, she forced herself to remember that he had plans of his own—with people who were more suited for someone like him.

“Don’t you have a limo waiting for you?” she asked mildly.

“A limo?” he repeated. “Why would I have a limo? I have a room upstairs.”

Right. Because why wait to party in a limo when he could have a party of his own in three minutes in the privacy of his suite.

God, how she hated this!

“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” she murmured and went to move around him. “I need to go.” In the back of her mind, Paige was prepared to make a glorious exit with her dignity intact.

Her ankle, however, had other plans.

One step. It took one stupid step to make her cry out in pain.

Before she knew it, Dylan scooped her up in his arms and made his way toward the elevator. “Wait! What are you doing?” she demanded, wiggling against him. “My car is that way!” Pointing at the entrance to the hotel for emphasis, she tried to get out of his grasp. “I need to get my valet ticket and…”

The elevator dinged its arrival.

Dylan stepped inside and hit a button, and Paige hit him in the shoulder.

“Ow! Seriously, what the hell, Paige? What’s gotten into you?”

“I am not going up to your room, Dylan!”

“And why not?” he shouted at her.

“Because I’m not into partying with your friends or threesomes, that’s why!”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Slowly, Dylan lowered her to her feet, and this time she was prepared and babied her ankle when her foot hit the carpet.

“Um…excuse me?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

Hands on her hips, she knew she would emerge victorious here. “I don’t drink or…or party.” There. She’d said it.

He nodded. “Um…yeah. I get that. But what was that other…um…thing you mentioned?”

“Threesomes. I’m not into them.”

“And…who’s having a threesome?”

She snorted with disgust. “Right. Because the blond with the limo isn’t up here, right? You left her and her…her…offer to come chase after me? Somehow I doubt it.”

He didn’t say a word. For the life of her, she seriously thought he’d argue with her. That he’d demand to know why she would think that or he’d tell her she was crazy because no man could turn down an offer to go out on the town with a supermodel.

But he didn’t.

When the elevator came to a stop, he wrapped an arm around her waist and gently led her from it and down the hall toward his room. She wanted to argue that she didn’t want to go, but she was in pain and wanted some ice and maybe some ibuprofen.

He slid the key card into the slot and then opened the door and helped her inside. Paige braced herself to see a naked woman on the bed, and had to admit, she was confused when she didn’t see the blond from downstairs.

Or anyone.

She was about to comment on it when Dylan helped her onto the couch and then arranged some throw pillows for her to put her foot up on. Then he walked over to the phone, and she heard him call the front desk. Her head was pounding as she let it roll back on the sofa. She closed her eyes and wanted to die of embarrassment.

No supermodel.

No party.

No threesome.

And she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of him.

Great.

Her craptastic night was complete.

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