Spotlight: Bad Bachelor by Stefanie London

Everybody's talking about the hot new app reviewing New York's most eligible bachelors. But why focus on prince charming when you can read the latest dirt on the lowest-ranked "Bad Bachelors"—NYC's most notorious bad boys?

If one more person mentions Bad Bachelors to Reed McMahon, someone's gonna get hurt. A PR whiz, Reed is known as an 'image fixer' but his womanizing ways have caught up with him. What he needs is a PR miracle of his own.

When Reed strolls into Darcy Greer's workplace offering to help save the struggling library, she isn't buying it. The prickly Brooklynite knows Reed is exactly the kind of guy she should avoid. But the library does need his help. As she reluctantly works with Reed, she realizes there's more to a man than his reputation. Maybe, just maybe Bad Bachelor #1 is THE one for her.

Excerpt

“Got your eye on someone?” She ran her tongue across her lower lip. His eyes tracked the movement, intently following the half-moon swipe as if his life depended on it. “Chasing a little skirt?”

He smirked. “I’m pretty sure people don’t say that anymore.”

Darcy’s cheeks burned, but she tried to hide it with a haughty flick of her ponytail over one shoulder. “Dodging the question, I see. Nice move, but it won’t work on me.”

“What would work on you?” He leaned a little closer and Darcy’s brain short-circuited. It would be a goddamn miracle if sparks weren’t flying out of her ears.

Mayday, mayday. Brain is down. I repeat: Brain is down.

“Respect. A little courtesy.”

He frowned. “You think I don’t respect you?”

“I don’t know if you respect any of the women you pursue. How can you when all you want is sex?” The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

Reed wasn’t the kind of guy with whom she should engage in verbal sparring. Not only that, but she was also starting to wonder exactly how much her opinion of him was based on what had been spoon-fed to her. It was easy to see him as the villain with his hypnotic good looks and commanding charm.

“Why do you think wanting sex and being respectful are mutually exclusive?”

The question halted her internal parade of confusion. “I don’t know, actually.”

“Because you’ve been conditioned to think that once you hand over the keys to the kingdom, you’ve lost all bargaining power.” His tilted his chin up ever so slightly.

“Women are taught to believe that once men get sex, they won’t want anything else.”

“Isn’t it true?” She folded her arms across her chest.

The moment Reed’s eyes eased down to where her breasts pressed against the low neckline of her borrowed top, she dropped her hands again. “Do you want anything else from a woman after you’ve slept with her?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

He inched closer, his head dipping to hers. The air in Darcy’s lungs stilled, an indignant squeak clogging the back of her throat as her lips parted. A protest should have shot out of her, a “no fucking way” aimed squarely in his direction. But her dignity melted under the fire crackling between them, causing her body to prepare itself for his kiss.

“You’re not my type,” she gritted out.

Instead of looking affronted, Reed threw his head back and laughed. The booming sound cut the tension like a knife through butter.

“What?” she huffed. “Is it really so hard to believe I don’t find you attractive?”

“Sweetheart, most women find me attractive. Some just hide it better than others.” His hand came up to brush a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead.

“For the record, you don’t hide it. At all.”

“Screw you.” She planted a hand against his chest and gave him a warning shove.

Mistake. The hard muscle beneath his crisp, white shirt felt even better than it looked. Her imagination was already having a field day filling in the blanks—the smooth skin, the little trail of hair that would guide her hand down below the waistband of his pants. The hefty weight she’d feel in her palm.

She resolutely kept her eyes forward. “I’ll have you know I’m here for someone else.”

“Yes, Five-Star Darren.” Reed smirked. “I saw him at the bar. You know he’s balding on top, right?”

There was something about Darcy that caused Reed’s competitive streak to flare up. It prickled under his skin, turning a fleeting thought into a persistent drone. It was the exact reason he’d come into this bar when he’d spotted Darcy by chance. She’d walked in with two friends, laughing and smiling in a way she didn’t around him. Before he’d even given it a second thought, he’d headed into the bar after her, desperate to see more of Darcy in her natural state.

Then he’d seen Five-Star Darren too. He didn’t know the guy personally, but he’d trawled through Bad Bachelors looking at the guys they’d deemed better than him.

So that’s why she was here? To chase some guy who’d likely leave her wanting and unfulfilled?

It was obvious she was attracted to Reed—and not because he believed the drivel he spouted about women wanting him, but because he could see it plain as day.

Yet she fought it at every turn.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, as though she had to remind herself to continue breathing. Then there was the fidgeting, the hair flipping, and the tightening of that perfect, pouty mouth.

“I bet if I kissed you, that sweet, little mouth would part like the Red Sea.” Satisfaction coursed through him when her nostrils flared. He dipped his head lower, so he could whisper right into her ear. “And I bet your hands would curl into my shirt, so you could hang on for dear life.”

Her breath stuttered in and out. “You don’t affect me, Reed.”

“Bullshit.”

Defiance rolled off her in waves.

“Kiss me then,” she taunted. “You’ll be disappointed with my reaction.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Her eyes widened when she realized he fully intended to prove her wrong. Shifting, he moved his body over hers, trapping her by planting his palms against the wall, one on either side of her. Caging her in. Sealing off the exits.

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About the Author

Stefanie London is the USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romances with humor, heat, and heart. Originally from Melbourne, Australia, Stefanie now lives in Toronto, Canada with her husband. She loves to read, collect lipsticks, watch zombie movies and drink coffee. Her bestselling book, Pretend It's Love, was a 2016 Romantic Book of the Year finalist with the Romance Writers of Australia. You can visit her at www.stefanie-london.com

And, get the latest dirt on Bad Bachelor #1 at the site badbachelors.weebly.com!

Spotlight: Secrets Kept by Allie Everhart

Secrets Kept
Allie Everhart
Publication date: March 2nd 2018
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense

After finding her boyfriend cheating, Kate decides she’s had it with men. So the next night at her catering job she pretends not to be interested when Gavin, a hot guy with a great smile who attends the very exclusive Moorhurst College, asks her out. Unable to resist his charm, she agrees to have dinner with him.

On their first date, Kate’s convinced Gavin’s too good to be true. Funny, sweet, smart, and easy to talk to, he’s nothing like the losers she’s dated in the past. But maybe her luck has changed. Maybe Gavin’s the guy she’s been waiting for.

As their relationship grows, Gavin proves he really is the guy Kate’s always wanted but didn’t think existed. She’s even thinking about a future with him. But those plans come to an abrupt halt when Kate sees something she shouldn’t. Something dark and disturbing. Something that could get her killed if she ever told anyone.

Kate’s desperate to tell Gavin her secret but can’t. Even if she did, he’d never believe her. Still, she can’t keep something this big from Gavin, especially when he’s involved in it. Will she risk her life and tell him the truth? Or risk their relationship and keep this secret from the man she loves?

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EXCERPT:

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I burst out crying, tears flowing like a dam broke loose. I set my phone on the lounger and cover my face with my hands, sobbing.

Last night, and all of today, I was able to hold back the tears, but now they’re breaking free, pouring down my cheeks, dripping onto my black apron.

If Carol catches me, I’ll be in so much trouble. She’ll probably fire me. But I can’t stop. The tears have started and show no signs of stopping.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind me. I turn and see a guy coming up next to me. He sits down on the other lounge chair, facing me. The chairs are close together so when he’s seated our legs are almost touching.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks.

I shake my head, still crying, even more so now, because this guy, whoever he is, will probably go tell Carol I’m out here crying and then I’ll for sure be fired.

“Hey.” He puts his hand on mine. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” I glance up and see him looking at me. I must look like a mess. Nose red and swollen. Makeup running down my face.

Good thing it’s dark back here, although the lights around the pool are pretty bright. I’m sure he can see what a mess I am.

I can see him just fine. He’s hot. Thick dark hair that’s mussed up in a sexy, bed-head way. Deep set eyes that appear to be a shade of blue. Strong, square jaw, shadowed by a layer of stubble. And full lips that are now lifted into a smile, showing off a slight dimple in his cheek.
Of course I run into this guy now, when I’m a crying, sniffling mess. Not that he’d be interested in me, but still.

“I just need a minute.” I wipe my face and take a deep breath. “You can go inside.”

“And leave you out here crying? Sorry, but that’s not who I am. I see a girl crying, I have to at least try to help.” He’s wearing jeans and pulls something from his pocket. A cocktail napkin from the party. “Here.” He hands it to me. “It’s clean. I promise.”

I take it and dab my eyes, then unfold it enough to blow my nose. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He’s still staring at me. “So what’s your name?”

“Kate. Kate Norris.”

“You work for the catering company?”

I nod, sniffling. “Are you going to tell my boss I’m out here?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because this isn’t where I’m supposed to be.”

“What do I care if you’re out here?”

“I don’t know. I just…I don’t know.”

He looks over at the house, then back at me. “You want to talk about it? About why you’re out here crying?”

I swallow and shake my head. “No.”

“Why not?”
“Because it’s stupid. And embarrassing.”

“Stupid and embarrassing are my specialities.” He leans back on his hands. “Go ahead. Try me.”

“I’d rather not.” I dab my eyes but my napkin is soaked.

“Here.” He pulls another one from his pocket and hands it to me.

I feel a smile forming. “Do you always carry napkins around?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He’s so serious, it makes me laugh. “It just seems kind of odd.”

“Is it?” He shrugs. “Guess some might think it’s stupid. Or embarrassing.” He smiles. “See? Like I said. Stupid and embarrassing. My specialities.
So shoot. What’s making you cry?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it. I promised myself I wouldn’t.” I blot my face with the napkin.

“It has to do with a guy,” he says.

I look at him but don’t answer.

“Let me guess. Your boyfriend?”

I nod.

“You found him with some other girl?”

I nod again.

“How long did you date him?”

“Almost eight months.”

This time he’s the one who nods. “I’m guessing this happened recently? Him and this girl?”

“Yesterday. Our eight month anniversary.”

He cringes. “Ouch. You caught him on your anniversary? That’s tough. No wonder you’re crying. I can’t believe you showed up for work tonight.”

“I was hoping it’d take my mind off it. And it did, for a little while, but then…I guess I couldn’t hold it in any longer. This is the first time I’ve let myself cry about it.”

“Kate!” I hear Carol’s voice coming from the house. I’m definitely getting fired. She may be my mom’s friend but she’s also a businesswoman and she won’t stand for unprofessional behavior. And sitting out here, crying, is definitely unprofessional. “Kate, are you out here?”

I stand up. “Over here.”

The guy stands up too. I don’t even know his name.

I stay where I’m at as she comes over to us. I’d rather have her fire me out here than in front of the other staff.

The guy walks up to her, his hand extended. “Gavin Bishop. Nice to meet you.”

Bishop? As in the owners of this house? So he’s Niles’ son?

Oh, God, I am SO getting fired.

Author Bio:

Allie Everhart writes romance and romantic suspense and is the author of the popular Jade Series, Kensington Series, Wheeler Brothers, and several standalone titles. She’s also a freelance health writer and has worked on several New York Times bestselling books. Allie's always been a romantic, as evidenced by her early years as a wedding singer, her obsession with dating shows, and the fact that she still watches reruns of The Love Boat. When she’s not writing, she’s outside running, which is when she gets her best book ideas.

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Spotlight: Highland Dragon Master by Isabel Cooper

Legend claims

When Scotland fell to English rule

The Highland dragons took a vow:

Freedom at any price.

The war for Scottish independence rages on, but it’s only a matter of time before England is victorious. Exhausted and battle-weary, Highland dragon Erik MacAlasdair will face unknown seas to seek the Templar stronghold and claim a power so great it could free his beloved homeland forever.

If only that kind of power didn’t come with such a terrible price.

Daughter of a mortal woman and an ancient dragon, Toinette has never forgotten the proud Scot who once stole her young heart—she’ll gladly fight at his side. But when dark forces leave them stranded on a cursed island, it will take everything they have to defy their fate…and trust the passion that burns within the heart of every dragon.

Excerpt

 “How long has he been with you?” Erik asked as Marcus strode away over the deck. 

Toinette hesitated a moment, searching his voice for prying or possessiveness, the sort of quality that would demand a sharp answer. She heard none, only a friendly question. It was a pleasant surprise from a man. “With me alone, these ten years. He sailed with my husband for five years before he died.” 

“And he thinks you’re…” 

“An adventurous young woman who married an older man. Hardly a creature of myth. He also doesn’t ask inconvenient questions.” 

“A good quality in a companion.” 

“That it is.” Toinette clasped her hands at the small of her back, lacing her fingers together, and stretched. The surrendering crack of her spine felt good. So did Erik’s eyes on her outthrust breasts. 

She’d never been able to be very dishonest with herself. As a boy, Erik had been handsome in a gawky kind of way. He’d grown into himself in the last century, into a long nose and a square jaw, arms that rippled with muscle and thighs that filled his hose nicely. Jaded as Toinette was, she couldn’t stand near him and not feel desire ripple through her. 

After Jehan’s death, she’d never taken lovers on board the Hawk, be they crew or customer. Men were too unpredictable, too apt to resent each other’s access to any woman’s bed or to think that their presence there gave them authority. Erik was possibly less dangerous in the second case, but the crew were no less prone to the first. 

“What sort of birds are those?” Erik asked, sensing and then breaking the silence before it could become too awkward. 

Toinette looked up and out. She spotted white wings, black heads, and a profile she knew well. “Terns. They’ll follow us for a little while, but they don’t go very far from land. Once we get further out into the ocean, we might see porpoises.” 

“Do you catch them?” 

“No. The men think it’s bad luck. For all I know, they might be right. No sense tempting fate on a voyage like this, is there?” 

“Not in the least.” Erik grinned. “I’ve a fair idea of how daft the whole venture makes me sound.” 

Toinette glanced back from the water to meet his eyes. “Do you think it’s daft?” 

“I don’t know,” he said. “Artair doesn’t, and it’s seldom that he’s far wrong.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment too.” 

“You’re very quick to seize those.” 

Toinette shrugged. “I’ve an eye for a good thing, and I’ll take what I can get.” She turned back to the waves, watching them rise and fall. White foam broke around the Hawk’s prow, and the boat rocked steadily onward. She could feel the wind as if she were the sail herself. 

“Almost as good as flying, in its way,” said Erik. 

“Oh,” Toinette laughed, “better to my mind. Much of the time, anyway.” 

“Truly?” Perhaps remembering how quickly she’d taken to the air at Loch Arach, Erik sounded completely surprised. 

“Mm-hmm.” Toinette turned around again, facing into the wind and taking a deep, salt-scented breath. “Flying, you’re above everything. You see it from a distance. It’s you and the stars and the clouds. The birds if you’re staying low enough. Don’t mistake me, there’s a glorious sort of freedom in all of that.” 

“But…” 

“But on the sea, you’re a part of things. You smell the air, you see the way the water changes from place to place, the difference in what you catch for dinner or the whales in the distance. You get to know the ship too.” She smiled. “I wager I could tell the Hawk beneath my feet even if I were blind. It’s a place to come back to, a thing you make and maintain—and I’d say that’s the mark of souled creatures, though I’m no priest. Craft.” 

“Earth and water, not air,” Erik said thoughtfully. 

“And not fire, God willing. Rather the opposite of your line.” 

“Yours too—or rather your blood,” he amended the statement quickly. 

“Ah, well, perhaps it’s the mortal in me. Drawn to what will outlast short-lived men and so forth.” Toinette waved a hand in the air. 

“That could be on both counts,” said Erik, looking out to the water. The wind played with his golden hair. He had less to disturb than Toinette did, yet it still ruffled in the breeze, and strands clung to his neck. “The Norsemen carve dragons’ heads on their boats, you know.” 

“They might just want to frighten their enemies.” 

“We are often things to be feared,” Erik agreed, and his smile was devilish. 

Toinette returned it. “Some of us more than others,” she said, “and perhaps for different reasons. Depending on who it is we’re frightening, of course.” 

For just a moment, before she went to check on Marcus, she let Erik see the veiled challenge in her eyes. 

It would be a long voyage. With no privacy, there was also no danger that either of them would get carried away. And few people were more qualified than Toinette to play with fire. 

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Spotlight: Bound by Deception by Trish McCallan

Bound by Deception
Trish McCallan
Publication date: March 2nd 2018
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

He broke her heart. She twisted his mind. But in this game of love, nothing is quite as it seems…

Rebecca’s life is haunted by unexpected tragedies. Her lover left her when she least expected it, and her mother’s suicide took everybody by surprise. But when a recent inheritance reveals a secret, Rebecca discovers her mother’s death was actually a cold-blooded murder…

Dante “Rio” Addario swore off his irresistible ex and her web of lies 12 years ago. But the former Navy SEAL turned police detective can’t ignore Becca’s plea to re-open an old case. As he and his ex team up, they discover missing evidence, tight-lipped detectives, and the conspiracy that tore them apart over a decade ago…

With everything they believed thrown into chaos, Rio and Becca can’t ignore their reawakened desire. But if they don’t solve the case soon, the real killer may just finish the job and their love story…

Bound by Deception is the pulse-pounding third book in the Bound By series of romantic suspense novels. If you like simmering chemistry, chilling mysteries, and second chances, then you’ll love Trish McCallan’s twisty tale.

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EXCERPT:

Rio pushed back his desk chair, and stretched his tight shoulders and back. Hunched over that desk all day played hell with his muscles. “Who’s on the jacket?”

“Rachel Blaine. You gonna check into it? The daughter is waiting in the lobby.”

Rachel Blaine…Blaine…

Becca’s last name had been Blaine…and her mother had committed suicide… could it be… He did the math. Becca had been living with Adam’s family for four years by that summer twelve years ago, which would put her mother’s death around sixteen years ago.

So yeah, this could be her mother’s case.

“What’s the name of the daughter?” Rio forced a casual tone.

“Rebecca Blaine. From Olympia. She says she found her mother’s diary and from the entries, there’s no way the woman killed herself.”

So, it was Becca. And she was right around the corner and down the hall.

Rio sat perfectly still, his pulse and breathing accelerating as an exotic face with dark, slightly titled eyes took shape in his mind. A flash fire of heat hit his blood, rippling out through his muscles, which infuriated him. Damnit, he was not still hung up on the woman. That entire fuck up had happened twelve years ago. He’d shaken that itch way before he’d left SEAL Team 7, and joined the San Diego Police department.

This jolt to his nervous system was curiosity, that’s all. At one point, back in his twenties, Becca Blaine had been an obsession, a craving that had fucked with his head. It was natural to wonder how the years had treated her.

It was also natural, considering what a little troublemaker she’d been, for suspicion to rise. What was she up to? Knowing Becca, there had to be some deeper manipulation at work.

Author Bio:

Trish McCallan was born in Eugene, Oregon, and grew up in Washington State, where she began crafting stories at an early age. Her first books were illustrated in crayon, bound with red yarn, and sold for a nickel at her lemonade stand. Trish grew up to earn a bachelor’s degree in English literature with a concentration in creative writing from Western Washington University, taking jobs as a bookkeeper and human- resource specialist before finally quitting her day job to write full time.

Forged in Fire, the first book in her Red Hot SEALs series, came about after a marathon reading session, and a bottle of Nyquil that sparked a vivid dream. She lives today in eastern Washington. An avid animal lover, she currently shares her home with four golden retrievers, a black lab mix and two cats.

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Spotlight: A Choice of Crowns by Barb Hendee

Olivia Geroux knew her king was reluctant to marry her, whatever the negotiations had arranged. But she never expected to find handsome, arrogant King Rowan obsessed with his stepsister instead. And before she can determine what course to take, she overhears her greatest ally plotting to murder the princess.

Olivia must act quickly—and live with whatever chaos results. As the assassin hunts his prey, a magic mirror appears to show Olivia the three paths that open before her . . .

If she hesitates only a moment, the princess will die—and she will become queen.

If she calls for help, she will gain great power—but she must also thrust away her own happiness.

If she runs to stop the murder herself, she will know love and contentment—but her whole country will suffer.

As she lives out each path, her wits and courage will be tested as she fights to protect her people, her friends, and her heart. And deciding which to follow will be far from easy . . .

Excerpt

I’ve heard it said the most important moments in one’s life pass more swiftly than others. Perhaps it’s true.

I only know that all my senses were on alert as soon as my father sent for me, asking me to come to his private rooms. Eighteen years old, I’d never once been invited to his rooms. In the past several weeks, he’d been closeted away much of the time, sending and receiving messages, but I had no idea what this was about—as he didn’t see fit to share such intelligence with me.

Now…he wanted to see me, in his rooms?

I could hardly refuse, nor in fact did I want to. I was curious.

Gathering my long green skirt, I nodded curtly to the servant who’d delivered the message and made my way to the base of the east tower of our family keep. I knew exactly where his rooms were located, even if I’d never been inside.

Upon arriving, I stood with my back straight and knocked on the door.

“Father? You sent for me.”

“Come,” he said from the other side.

With my hand shaking only slightly, I opened the door. Inside, I found a somewhat austere main room that appeared to be a study, with a large desk and chair. There were tapestries of forest scenes on the walls, and an interior door led to a bedroom.

My father, Hugh Géroux, sat behind his desk working on what appeared to be a letter, but he stood as I entered. In his early fifties, he still cut a striking figure, with a smooth-shaven face, dark hair with a sprinkling of gray, and dark eyes.

“Olivia,” he said, as if meeting me for the first time.

We didn’t know each other well, as I was the fifth and youngest of his children. I had two older brothers and two older sisters, and my father had used all four of them carefully to enhance his own wealth and prestige. My mother died of a fever when I was only seven, so my father raised us alone in a manner that was both distant and overbearing at the same time.

My family, the line of Géroux, was among the old nobility of the kingdom. While past famines and civil wars had destroyed several of the ancient families, ours survived. We were survivors. My father respected strength and nothing else.

His eyes moved dispassionately from my feet to my face, as if assessing me. I knew only too well what he saw. I was tall for a woman. He was tall, and I could almost look him directly in the eyes. Unfortunately, the current fashion for women was petite and fragile. My hair was long and thick, but it was a shade of burnished red, and again, red hair was not currently in fashion.

Still, I’d been raised to remain sharply aware of everything going on around me, and it was no secret that most men found me desirable. My face had often been called pretty, with clear skin and slanted eyes of green. I looked best in green velvet.

Though I was not vain, I had also been raised to understand that survival was based on value, and at some point, I’d be given a chance to prove myself valuable. Had that chance finally come?

“You’ll need to pack tonight,” he said. “You leave for Partheney in the morning.”

In spite of my careful awareness of self-control, I nearly gasped. “Partheney?”

This was the king’s city. My family’s lands were in the southeast corner of the kingdom. Partheney was in the northwest, near the coast of the sea. I had never been there.

“You’re to marry King Rowan,” my father said flatly. “His mother, the dowager queen, and I have arranged it.”

I stood still as his words began to sink in, but I still couldn’t quite follow what he was trying to convey. “King Rowan…the dowager queen…is this why you’ve been receiving so many messages?”

His eyes flashed, and I dropped my gaze, cursing myself. Father did not brook questions from his children. He expected only two things from us: strength and obedience. But the slight shaking in my hands grew to a tremble. Had I heard him correctly? I was to marry the king?

Stepping around the desk, he approached me. “Do you know anything of the rumors surrounding King Rowan?”

Unfortunately, I did, hence the reason my hands trembled. Even here, in the isolated southeast, rumors still reached us. In his late twenties, Rowan de Blaise was a young king and had held the throne for only two years. But over those two years, four betrothals with foreign princesses had been arranged via proxy. Envoys had been sent to Partheney to finalize negotiations. In all four cases, when the envoys arrived, Rowan refused to even see them. He’d sent them away.

“I know some of the stories,” I answered my father. “I know betrothals have been arranged, and he’s sent the envoys packing.”

“Yes.” My father nodded. “His mother, the dowager, was the one who arranged the betrothals. She is anxious to see him married and founding a line of heirs.”

“Why will he not marry?”

My father waved one hand in the air. “That is of no matter. What matters is, the dowager has decided to stop seeking a foreign princess and marry him into one of our own noble families. She’s wise and has chosen the line of Géroux. We’ll be linked to royalty, and I’ll be the grandfather of kings.”

The truth of all this hit me, and my hands ceased trembling. I would be queen.

Clearly there were obstacles, but I allowed my initial worries to vanish and let my mind flow. Father expected complete success from himself and would expect nothing less of me. This thought made me brave. “If Rowan has refused to even see the envoys,” I began, “what makes you and the dowager think he will agree to entertain negotiations this time?”

My question was bold, but instead of growing angry, Father only looked at me as if I were simple—which I was not.

“Because as I said, you will leave in the morning,” he answered. “I’m not sending envoys. I have no faith in envoys. I’m sending you. You’ll go to the castle, meet the king, and handle negotiations yourself. You are a daughter of the Géroux. He cannot turn you away.”

“You’ll not come with me?”

“No. That was my first instinct, but the dowager believes it best if the king is given no choice in facing you directly. It will force him to be…polite.” His expression darkened. “And you will not fail to secure him. Do you understand? You will not fail.”

I met his eyes without flinching.

“I understand.”

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About the Author

Barb Hendee is the New York Times bestselling author of The Mist-Torn Witches series. She is the co-author (with husband J.C.) of the Noble Dead Saga. She holds a master’s degree in composition/rhetoric from the University of Idaho and currently teaches writing for Umpqua Community College. She and J.C. live in a quirky two-level townhouse just south of Portland, Oregon.

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Spotlight: Hooked on a Phoenix by Ashlyn Chase

LOCKED IN A BANK VAULT TOGETHER

THEY MIGHT REDEFINE THE MEANING OF ‘SAFE’ SEX

Misty Carlisle works as a bank teller in Boston’s financial district. She’s had more rotten luck in her life than most, except when her childhood crush shows up to cash his paycheck. Then her heart races and her mouth goes dry.

Gabe Fierro is a firefighter—and a phoenix. Like his brothers, his biggest challenge is finding a woman open-minded enough to accept a shapeshifter into her life. When his boyhood friend asks him to watch over his little sister Misty, he reluctantly agrees. But when the bank where she works gets held up, Gabe does everything he can to protect her. The two of them end up locked in the bank’s vault…where things get steamier than either of them ever imagined. 

Excerpt

“Holy shit!” Gabe exclaimed. “Is that Parker?”
Parker whirled around and met his best friend coming up the walk. They gave each other a man hug with many slaps on the back.

“Good to see you! Hey, Julie, I didn’t realize you knew Gabe.”

“I don’t. Well, not really. I thought he was a stripper, and then he ran off before proper introductions could be made.”

Parker’s brows rose.

“Jeez, Julie,” Misty interjected. “It’s not what it sounds like. I was having a party at my apartment for Julie and my friends from high school, and Gabe just showed up to check on me. I thought he was the pizza delivery guy and went into the other room to get my wallet and, well…the girls thought I had arranged something else—which I didn’t, by the way.”

Parker laughed hard. “So, I guess you’re still looking after my little sister, Gabe. Thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” Gabe asked. “Did you get emergency leave when you heard that Misty’s house blew up?”

Parker took a step back. He grabbed Misty’s arm. “Your house blew up? How? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to. It just happened, and there was a lot of other stuff going on.” She realized she’d inadvertently introduced subjects she didn’t want to get into just yet. “Hey, let’s go inside. Why are we all standing in the foyer with the door open? It’s February, for God’s sake.” She grabbed Parker’s hand and tugged him inside.

As soon as Gabe had closed the door, she quickly addressed Parker’s concerns. “It was a gas leak. Gabe saved both me and my landlady. He was in the hospital, knocked unconscious for a while.” There. Put the focus on Gabe. That should buy her a little time.

Parker let go of Misty and clamped his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, man. Thank God you were there.”

Gabe offered a weak smile. Maybe he was just being humble, or maybe he didn’t want Parker to know how close they had become. Either way, it was time for another distraction.

“Let’s get out of the chilly hallway.” Misty made a point of shivering.

Julie laughed. “No shit. If my father were here, he would have yelled, ‘Do you want to heat the whole damn neighborhood?’ ten minutes ago. Let’s go into the kitchen where it’s warm. I’ll make some coffee.”

They all tromped into the kitchen and found seats at the round glass table in the corner.

“Nice house, Julie,” Gabe said.

“I’m a squatter. Sort of. My folks are in Germany. My dad got transferred, and they’re looking at houses. Until they buy one, they won’t put this one on the market. I get to live here until the new owners evict me.”

Misty brightened. “Maybe you and I can get a place in the city when they sell this out from under you.”

Parker groaned. “That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“What do you mean?” Gabe asked.

Parker laughed. “When these two get together, you never know who’s going to call you. The towing company, the cops, or—”

Gabe held up his palm. “I don’t need to know the details.” He gave Misty the hairy eyeball.

“Hey, we’re not that bad.” Julie giggled as she filled the coffeepot with water. “At least we’re no
longer underage.”

Parker smiled. “I guess it’s just harmless girl fun.

Nothing to be concerned about. But what does concern me is where are you living now, Misty? Can you get to your job from here—or wherever?”

“The Fierros took me in. I just have to commute from the South End to the North End. It’s nothing the subway and a CharlieCard can’t handle.”

Parker glanced at Gabe. “You’re still at your place near the theater district and Chinatown, right?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just making sure.”

Misty sensed her brother’s discomfort. Or maybe it was her own worry she was projecting. Parker obviously didn’t want them together. She and Gabe shared a quick glance and looked away.

Julie joined them at the table while the coffee was brewing. “Hmmm… Something is going on here.” She pointed to the other three in turn.

“Oh? Is there something I should know?” Parker asked.

Oh, crap. Julie was always too observant and never could shut the hell up. Misty had to get her brother and Gabe alone and tell them her news soon—before Julie blurted it out at the worst possible moment.

“Julie, can you please give us some time alone?”

Julie straightened and looked offended. “You don’t want me here? I would think you might need my support.”

“No! What I need is for you to disappear for a few minutes.” Misty felt bad as soon as she raised her voice to her friend, but it had to be done. Her well-meaning friend would probably add her two cents and just complicate things.

“Fine.” She sounded hurt as she rose and stomped out of the room. “When the coffee is ready, you can help yourselves.”

“I’m sorry,” Misty called after her.

“No, you’re not, but you might be when I’m not there to help you figure out what you’re going to say.” Julie’s voice trailed off, but it looked as if the guys caught the gist of it.

Misty muttered, “Jesus.”

“What’s she talking about?” Parker asked.

Misty leaned back and crossed her arms. “There’s something I have to tell you. Both of you. I didn’t want to do it here, like this, but it seems like I have no choice now.”

Parker narrowed his eyes. “Spit it out, Misty. What did you do?”

She straightened and glared at her brother. “What makes you think I did something?”

“Whoa. Relax, Parker,” Gabe said. “Misty hasn’t done anything. She’s had some bad news, and if you’ll just shut up, she’ll tell you what it is.”

Gabe was trying to help, probably thinking she had to tell him about the MS. Boy, was he in for a rude shock.

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