Spotlight: Bare by Sarah Robinson by Sarah Robinson

Today we have the release blitz for Sarah Robinson’s BARE! Check it out and grab your copy today!

Series: Exposed, Book 2
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Standalone

Following the popular series debut—NUDES was praised as “passionate, emotional and uplifting” by #1 New York Times Bestselling Author Lauren Blakely—contemporary romance author Sarah Robinson weaves a new standalone story where a second chance at romance is found on a Hollywood film set and secrets always have a way of being…exposed.

Reed Scott is the hottest actor in LA…

Being a Hollywood heartthrob has its perks, and I’ve damn sure enjoyed every one of them, both on and off the silver screen. The tabloids loved every second of exploiting my privacy, chronicling my mistakes in ink for the whole world to see. Accepting the lead role in a romantic dance film was guaranteed to make me a box office hit and help me rewrite my image, until the choreographer hired to train me turned out to be the only woman I’d ever loved and lost.

As beautiful and enticing as ever, Tegan walks in and reminds me of the worst mistake I’ve ever made. She should hate me, and now she has the power to destroy everything I am.

Tegan Reynolds is picking up the pieces…

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…never going to happen. I fell in love with Reed Scott once and it nearly killed me—literally. The last thing I want to do now is teach him how to dance, but I need this job and there’s no way I’m letting him take yet another thing away from me.

Reed is in my world now, and this time we’re dancing by my rules.

Exclusive Excerpt

Am I cursed? Teagan stared at herself in the mirror of her small apartment bathroom. She felt cursed. Reed-Scott-freaking-cursed.

Life certainly hadn't handed her the easiest go, and now, just when she'd thought things were finally turning around because she'd landed a fantastic job as a film choreographer, fate was still proving it had other plans for her. This job was supposed to be her big break—well, break-ish. Sure, it wasn’t what she'd wanted out of her life, but her dreams were no longer an option.

And this job? Most people would kill for it. So, she was choosing to be grateful.

She had to choose to be grateful a lot, actually. If she didn't, then life would have gotten the better of her years ago. Teagan glanced down at her legs, tracing a finger across the long scar that stretched from her knee to her hip. She tried to hide it under leggings and skirts, but it wasn’t always possible.

When she'd almost died in a car accident at the age of twenty-one, she'd thought she'd never walk again. Hell, the doctors had told her exactly that. And dancing? That was an impossibility.

The years and years she'd spent training to become a professional dancer had all been wiped away in less time than it took for that car to slam hers into a ditch. Despite the doctor's predictions that her wheelchair would become a permanent fixture, though, she'd proved them all wrong. She'd spent years learning to walk, and then dance, again. Sure, she'd probably never have the agility to become the famous dancer she'd always dreamed of being, but she could at least teach. And with that, she'd found a way to keep doing what she loved…even if it was not exactly what she loved.

So, she chose to be grateful.

But seeing Reed Scott again? The man who made her believe in everlasting, soul-deep, earth shattering love and then left her standing alone at the altar on their wedding day? The man who had left her just to star in a movie that would make him famous?

She was not grateful for that—or for him—one bit.

Teagan finished putting on the last touches of her makeup then changed into a new pair of leggings and a leotard. Glancing one last time in the mirror, she fluffed out her wavy brown hair nervously. As much as she might hate him, she found herself wanting to look her best for him anyway. Make him eat his heart out. Make him regret ever leaving her like that in the first place.

She swallowed, trying to push away her frustration. That didn’t seem possible right now, though. Sighing, Teagan grabbed her car keys off the small table by her front door and gave one last glance around the small Los Angeles apartment she called home. Benson, her incredibly fat tabby cat, was lounging on the windowsill, lazily yawning and watching her. "Bye, Benson. Be good."

He didn't even blink at her. He'd probably still be lying in that exact same spot when she came home later.

Teagan blew him a kiss then headed out, locking her front door carefully behind her. Within a few minutes, she was behind the wheel of her car and heading toward the studio. It was still dark outside, but she didn't mind one bit. She enjoyed early mornings when the world was quiet and the roads were clearer. Driving was still something that made her a little tense after her car accident, and traffic in Los Angeles was always horrendous. But, at five o’clock in the morning, it was a lot more manageable and didn't make her feel so…terrified.

Luckily, her commute was short and she arrived on set twenty minutes later. She headed straight to the studio where she'd told Reed to meet her, but he wasn't there yet, which she'd expected since she was a bit early. Placing her dance bag on the shelf to one side of the studio, she pulled out her heel dancer shoes with a cute buckle T-strap over the top of her foot and put them on. She pulled on a loose fitting, light sweater over her leotard for some coverage, since it reached almost to the bottom of her ass.

Next, she began to shimmy out of her leggings, since she was able to work a lot better in her leotard without restriction to her legs. She got down to her knees before she realized that being bare legged would reveal the scar on her leg. Quickly, she slid them back up her legs.

"Shit."

Teagan whirled around, looking for the person who'd just broken the silence around her.

Reed Scott. Of course.

"You scared the crap out of me," she told him, grateful that he hadn’t been able to see her scar from where he was standing for the brief moment her leggings had been down.

"Sorry," he replied, clearly making an effort to look anywhere but at her. "I didn't know you'd be…uh, I mean, I wasn't expecting…"

She rolled her eyes. Actors were so dramatic. "I'm not getting naked, Reed. I was just, uh, putting on my leggings to dance."

"Sure. Right. Yeah." He was rambling, clutching the gym bag over his shoulder. "So, time to get started?"

"Yep. Put your stuff on the shelf and we'll get started," she instructed, doing her best to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the very sight of him. Fuck, he looked even better than he'd looked the last time she'd seen him. Tall, broad shoulders, olive skin under thick black hair with a scruffy beard she remembered was very soft. And those eyes…God, the way those light green eyes pierced through her.

He stood you up at the altar, she reminded herself. For a damn movie.

"Sure." He headed toward her and placed his bag on the shelf. "What are we practicing today?"

"It's a pretty short routine today, actually. It shouldn't take us too long." Though she doubted he'd be the quickest learner after his warning yesterday. "Ready?"

He turned around to look at her, his eyes trailing down her body in a way that made her heart pound faster and faster. Suddenly his gaze stopped, pausing on her legs.

Her heart pounded, terrified he could see through her thin leggings to the bump of her scar. But he said nothing, and his gaze kept traveling. She was safe.

Honestly, she was a little surprised he didn't already know about her accident. It hadn’t been a secret. Everyone in her life knew, and she'd certainly expected someone to pass along the message. Or for him to check in, even once.

She'd waited for him in the hospital, expecting him to come. Expecting him to apologize. Expecting him to beg her forgiveness, realize what an idiot he had been and take her back, care for her, return her to health with his love and affection.

That hadn't really worked out.

Finally, his eyes returned to his face, and his tongue slid across his bottom lip. “You look…damn, Teag. You look amazing.”

"Listen, Reed," she began, setting her jaw and sticking out her chin. "We work together. That's it. You don't get to look at me like that anymore."

Reed looked startled, taken aback at her abruptness. Then the saddest look she'd ever seen passed over his face. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Let's get started." She moved to the center of the studio. "I'll show you today's sequence, and then we'll go through it step by step. Okay?"

He nodded, but said nothing.

Carefully, she posed herself in the center of the room with her toes pointed and her arms around her waist. In one slick move, she sidestepped and kicked one leg out to her left, flipping her hair with the motion. She then tucked her foot, her knee pointed out horizontally from her body and spun in a circle.

On her second spin around, she kicked up high, like an incredibly tall karate kick. When her foot touched back down on the ground, she lunged to the right and threw her arms out, tossing back her head with the motion. She curved her spine outwards, pulling her stomach in as she moved her arms in a circular motion toward herself.

She twirled then, spinning on the tips of her toes while keeping her eyes on one stationary spot so she didn't get dizzy. After her fourth spin, she shoved her arms down by her sides and lifted her chin. With that, she spun back in the direction she’d just come from and leaped multiple times across the room with her arms out and her fingers pointed.

Finally, she came down on one foot and spun in several circles before coming to a stop in front of Reed. "Annnnnd, that's it."

"Shit, that looked complicated as hell," he admitted. "Though you looked incredible doing it."

She ignored his compliment. Or, rather, she tried. Admittedly, her heart pounded a little harder. But, that was being ignored for now. "Let's go over the first step." She repeated the side steps and kicking her leg to the left. "Just like that. Let's see what you can do."

Reed followed in her footsteps, and honestly, it wasn't terrible. It wasn't great either. "Like that?"

"Close," she admitted. "Let's go through it again."

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About the Author

Aside from being a Top 10 Barnes & Noble and Amazon Bestseller, Sarah Robinson is a native of the Washington, DC area and has both her Bachelors and Masters Degrees in forensic and clinical psychology. She is newly married to a wonderful man who is just as much of an animal rescue enthusiasts as she is. Together, they own a zoo of rescues including everything from mammals to reptiles to marsupials, as well as volunteering and fostering for multiple animal shelters.

Subscribe to her newsletter at www.subscribepage.com/sarahrobinsonnewsletter

Visit the author's website for more information about Sarah and her books: http://booksbysarahrobinson.net/

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Spotlight: Dreams of Falling by Karen White

New York Times bestselling author Karen White crafts evocative relationships in this contemporary women’s fiction novel, set in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, about lifelong friends who share a devastating secret.

On the banks of the North Santee River stands a moss-draped oak that was once entrusted with the dreams of three young girls. Into the tree’s trunk, they placed their greatest hopes, written on ribbons, for safekeeping–including the most important one: Friends forever, come what may.

But life can waylay the best of intentions….

Nine years ago, a humiliated Larkin Lanier fled Georgetown, South Carolina, knowing she could never go back. But when she finds out that her mother has disappeared, she realizes she has no choice but to return to the place she both loves and dreads–and to the family and friends who never stopped wishing for her to come home.

Ivy, Larkin’s mother, is discovered badly injured and unconscious in the burned-out wreckage of her ancestral plantation home. No one knows why Ivy was there, but as Larkin digs for answers, she uncovers secrets kept for nearly fifty years–whispers of love, sacrifice, and betrayal–that lead back to three girls on the brink of womanhood who found their friendship tested in the most heartbreaking ways.

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About the Author

Karen White is the New York Times bestselling author of more than twenty novels, including the Tradd Street series, The Night the Lights Went Out, Flight Patterns, The Sound of Glass, A Long Time Gone, and The Time Between. She is the coauthor of The Forgotton Room with New York Times bestselling authors Beatriz Williams and Lauren Willig. She grew up in London but now lives with her husband and two children near Atlanta, Georgia.

Spotlight: A Hundred Small Lessons by Ashley Hay

When Elsie Gormley falls and is forced to leave her Brisbane home of sixty-two years, Lucy Kiss and her family move in, eager to make the house their own. Still, Lucy can’t help but feel that she’s unwittingly stumbled into an entirely new life—new house, new city, new baby—and she struggles to navigate the journey from adventurous lover to young parent.

In her nearby nursing facility, Elsie traces the years she spent in her beloved house, where she too transformed from a naïve newlywed into a wife and mother, and eventually, a widow. Gradually, the boundary between present and past becomes more porous for her, and for Lucy—because the house has secrets of its own, and its rooms seem to share with Lucy memories from Elsie’s life.

Luminous and deeply affecting, A Hundred Small Lessons is a “lyrically written portrayal” (BookPage, Top Pick) of what it means to be human, and how a place can transform who we are. It’s about a house that becomes much more than a home, and the shifting identities of mother and daughter; father and son. Above all else, this is a story of the surprising and miraculous ways that our lives intersect with those who have come before us, and those who follow.

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About the Author

Ashley Hay is the internationally acclaimed author of the novels A Hundred Small Lessons, The Body in the Clouds, and The Railwayman’s Wife, which was honored with the Colin Roderick Award by the Foundation for Australian Literary Studies and longlisted for the Miles Franklin Literary Award, the most prestigious literary prize in Australia, among numerous other accolades. She has also written four nonfiction books. She lives in Brisbane, Australia.

Spotlight: Strayed by KristaLyn A. Vetovich

In the struggle between good and evil, humans don’t stand a chance—not on their own.

Which is why, for every living soul, there is a Firn: a spirit assigned to guide and defend humans from demonic spirits like the Aropfain. But earning a place in the fight is a process that requires several lifetimes—of service, experience, and sacrifice.

Having just returned from her most recent life as an Ancient Roman martyr, Anaya is only one step away from achieving that goal. And if she succeeds, she might become the Firn with the most important mission: guiding the human that will either save—or end—the world.

But when she’s paired with the notoriously difficult Jordin, her chances of success suddenly start to slip. Because Jordin isn’t like other souls. He’s strong, volatile—and a prime target for the Aropfain. And he almost immediately falls for an Aropfain ploy that could not only jeopardize his chances of becoming a Firn, but also endanger the entire world.

As his partner, Anaya is the only one who can save him. But will she succeed? Or will she fail—and take the world down with her?

Book Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Well, it happened again. I died.

The bloodied sand of the colosseum shivers out of focus as my soul shakes off its physical limitations in favor of a higher vibration. Instead of centurions and weeping family, I’m now surrounded by snowy white noise and quiet.

They came for me at dawn. I can still hear my mother’s sobs. I was only twelve.

I blink the memories away just as a man bends and pulls into view before me, then straightens with a blithe sort of smile. “Welcome back,” he says in an excessively soothing tone. He wears glasses I know he doesn’t need, and behind them, his unearthly blue eyes trace my face, looking for signs of stress.

And it comes back to me like the snap of fingers. An Advokat. Here to help me adjust to the trauma of crossing over from life to death.

Suddenly I wonder how he sees me. Do I have blue eyes now? In life, they were brown, but here in death I’ve always imagined others see me with crystal blue. I guess it would depend on how much they like me. Appearance is entirely based on impression here. We see what we feel. Feelings are real, vision an illusion.

And this Advokat must be new, I realize a moment later. If he’d been here for any length of time, he wouldn’t be using the sappy voice they put on for the newer souls. The ones who don’t understand how it works. He’d know that I’m something of a regular in the transition between life and death—that I’ve lost count of how many of these interviews I’ve had to sit through. I’m sure I know the process better than he does.

Because I’ve had his job before, mastered it long ago.

I skim him, searching the endless trove of memories trying to break through the fog of earthly business still clouding my mind. I don’t remember him. And I can see that he doesn’t know me.

Definitely new. Which means he’ll play the interview by the book. I groan.

The Advokat reaches out as if to comfort me, like my groan was one of anxiety and not disdain. “Try not to panic.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and flatten my gaze at him instead. I understand it’s his job to help me recover from the shock of death, but honestly, I’m fine. So I died—so what? There are many things worse than death, and one of them, if anyone ever bothered to ask me, is living. I’m actually thrilled to be back here—and I don’t need an Advokat to counsel me through the transition.

Also, I’m in a bit of a hurry. I have important business to attend to, even higher vibrations to achieve. I’m so close now, and he’s the only thing standing in my way.

I tap my foot and glance around for someone—anyone who might recognize me and give me an opportunity to walk away from this unnecessary formality.

“Everything will make sense soon.” The Advokat’s voice echoes through the white expanse around us. Clearly, all other souls are keeping their distance to allow me to transition without any added shock. Or—I narrow my eyes at the Advokat—he’s followed protocol by requesting they give us space.

And do we ever have it. As far as the eye can see, there’s nothing but static white. But I smile, and my shoulders relax—because this is my true home.

Just the way I remember it.

The Advokat leans into my line of sight. “Do you know your name?”

My smile drops.

In life, my name was Agnes. In this life, anyway.

There have been so many lives, so many names, but between them all, just one feels like home.

When it comes, my voice sounds like a lost, cherished memory. “Anaya.” My first word after death. The truest word I know.

The Advokat smiles and nods. He doesn’t take any notes or write anything down, and I know about that, too. The answers are in his mind, ready when he needs them, downloaded into his head from the source of all truth on the highest plane of vibration there is: El Olam, our master and creator. He sits so high none of us can reach him, above laws and structure. The world is as he makes it, and we are simply stewards of his creation, here to serve.

And today I’ll go one step further in the process of becoming a defender of creation. I’ll become a Firn.

The Advocat, who is becoming more annoying by the moment, interrupts my thoughts with yet another question. “Good. And do you know where you are?”

Where I am? Well it’s a much better place than where I was…

I was in Rome, in the fourth century. I rejected a boy, and he sold me out as a Christian. It took them forever to kill me—first with shame, then with flames. But all I gave them was a blank stare through the numbness. They couldn’t shame me. I wouldn’t burn when they strung me to the stake and lit the fire—even the flames knew not to touch me. But the Roman officer’s sword through my throat did the trick in the end. I was gone before I felt anything. So I guess the joke’s on them. There was darkness, then a burst of light—

And now I’m home, where none of that matters anymore. I’m free here. Because no one can shame or kill the dead. I’ll be safe as long as I stay.

“This is Lemayle,” I say quietly. “The afterlife. The real world.” And I have no intention of ever living again.

He rocks back and grins. “Wonderful!” Then his face stiffens. He swallows and his eyes shake as he looks me over for a second time, now scanning for any truths beneath the surface, anything I’m hiding from him. If souls could sweat, he’d be a mess as he prepares for the most important question of the interview.

I used to have his job, so I know what comes next. My answers from here on out will decide my final destination.

“All right.” He clears his throat. He doesn’t have to. It’s the nerves. I will be his enemy if I answer poorly, but he has to remain objective. He’s a professional, after all, and he doesn’t know whose side I’m on yet—what changes this most recent lifetime might have made in me.

I was martyred, and not all martyrs come back home the way they should. Martyrs go into life as warriors for El Olam’s cause … but don’t always return feeling their suffering was justified. Some turn against him and defect to the one who seeks to depose him.

And me? How do I feel about the suffering I was put through? Have I changed my mind about who to serve? And how dangerous does that make me to the fragile balance of the world? That’s what the Advokat needs to find out.

“Do the names El Olam and Narn mean anything to you?”

Good and evil. That’s what they mean. Free will and slavery. But which is which? Is El Olam good … or is he evil? Are Narn’s plans for less service to living souls and more dominion over them more appealing? Are they justified? No soul chooses evil.

They simply choose what they believe is right.

I hide my laugh with a cough at the tension in the Advokat’s hunched shoulders. If he’s new—and he wants to stay—he’ll need a stiffer a spine than he’s got now. I might as well be the one to give it to him.

I level my gaze at him, eyes wide open to appear just a little less threatening. “Yes. I know them.”

He nods, more rigidly this time, and rubs the back of his neck as he braces for my response to his final question.

“And … your allegiance?”

I stare at him for a long moment, watching the anxiety build behind his bright blue eyes. He doesn’t want any trouble, but his other hand twitches at his side, ready to summon the support of a slightly higher power—just in case I came back tainted.

Just in case I’ve decided I hate the way the world works … and want to serve the one trying to turn it upside down.

“Oh calm down,” I finally chide him. This has gone on long enough to bore me. I have business to attend to, and honestly, after fifty lifetimes, a soul should be able to just skip this process. “I chose El Olam lifetimes ago. I’m bound to be a Firn. This was my last run.”

His whole body wilts as the tension releases. Had I said Narn, the Advokat and I would have had a few issues. Because it would have meant I was a soul with eyes toward flipping the script, turning the world upside down—force living souls to do as we say, and ruling over them as gods.

He’d have had to immediately summon one of Lemayle’s second-highest authorities—a Malekh, El Olam’s archangels—to deal with me. And it wouldn’t have been pleasant. The Malekh don’t like jokes. Most of them, anyway.

“Well that is a relief.” The Advokat’s hand slides from the back of his neck to clutch his chest, steadying the phantom sensation of a palpitating heart.

And I grin, even though I shouldn’t. But what’s the fun in seniority if you can’t mess with the rookies?

“We need as many Firns as we can get,” he admits, “events accelerating as they are.” I perk up at that. Accelerating events is much more my speed—though it gives me less time to meet the final criteria for joining the Firns’ ranks. “The living souls need all the protection we can give them,” he finishes.

I couldn’t agree more. And that’s where I come in—where all the Firns stand and serve El Olam. Without Firns to guide living souls and protect them from temptation and harm, Narn would flip the script. And humans would walk right into their own slavery.

But El Olam won’t allow it.

So neither will I. I’m so close now. Just one step left, and if I impress the Malekh and El Olam enough in my next job as a soul collector, then I’ll become a Firn, and one day I’ll be even more than that. If I perform well enough, I’ll be chosen as the Firn who oversees El Olam’s plan to defeat Narn once and for all. It has to be one of us, so it might as well be me. And I won’t stop until I see it happen.

Meanwhile, the Advokat extends his hand to me. “Best of luck to you. I hope you make the cut.”

I glance at his hand and back up to him. So he really hasn’t heard of me, then. I may not be a Firn yet, but I have made a name for myself as the one to watch for earning the coveted position in El Olam’s plan.

Well, if he hasn’t heard of me yet, he will soon enough.

“Thanks.” With a smirk, I grip his hand and shake it firmly enough to knock him off balance. “But I really don’t need luck.”

About the Author

KristaLyn A. Vetovich is the internationally published author of seven books and one short story, including the upcoming Prelude of the Reyn Gayst series releasing in 2018 from Glass House Press. She graduated in 2011 from Susquehanna University with a degree in English Literature and began traditionally publishing her novels the next year. KristaLyn is also a certified health and life coach and enjoys infusing her stories with motivational themes and characters from all walks of life.

KristaLyn lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and their corgi, Jack.

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Spotlight: Save Me by Cecy Robson

Publication Date: April 25, 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Standalone

RT Book Reviews proclaims that the O’Brien Family series from award-winning author Cecy Robson “has the hottest brothers ever!” And in SAVE ME, it’s time for Seamus, the family’s most notorious bachelor, to find true love.

Three weddings. No date. What’s a hot stud to do when all the women on his speed dial are either serving dinner to their families or serving time?

Out of all the O’Briens, Seamus is the best-looking, most creative, and, did I mention, best-looking? Single at almost forty wasn’t a big deal until every sibling in his large and loud Irish family found “the one.” Now, he’s desperate for a wedding date, one he doesn’t have to worry will make out with the limo driver or rob the bride and groom blind.

Allie Mendes is the good daughter, who’s spent her life living in her perfect sister’s shadow. But when her sister steals the man Allie was supposed to marry, that shadow she’s lived in threatens to swallow her whole. Allie wants to believe a bright future awaits. But when she begs God to save her from this disastrous twist of fate, the last person she expects Him to send her is Seamus O’Brien.

Allie needs a stand-in boyfriend to avoid appearing as lonely as she feels. Seamus needs a decent woman without an ankle bracelet or a rap sheet as long as his muscular arms. The two make a deal to pose as each other’s perfect date. But weddings mean romance and a chance at forever neither had planned.

Excerpt

“Me little Finnie is right,” Ma says from the door, her Irish accent as thick as the day Grammie popped her out on a potato field.

“He’s the baby and already getting married. Promising me grandbabies like a good boy.”

He points at her and making a clicking sound. “You know I’ve got you, Ma.”

That did it. The moment Ma leaves, we’re throwing down.

Ma shakes her head like people do when all is lost and there’s nothing that can be done. “Look at you, Seamus. All strapping male with the strength and charm of an Irish prince.” She walks in, her steps slow and steady. It’s the same way she walked in when we were kids and we knew we were fucked.

“I just have one question,” she says, her voice light as it often is before she strikes. “Are you trying to kill your mother?”

Jesus. Here we go.

She holds her hand. “Oh, me handsome son. It’s a simple question really. Do you want me to die?”

“You want Ma to die?” Wren yells from the other room. She shuffles in with enough white fabric trailing behind her to sail across the Atlantic. Brenda’s other daughters, the not so slutty ones, charge after Wren, lifting the eighty feet of material high in the air.

Wren points an irate finger at me. “If you give Ma the big one, you’re going to really piss me off. You and me both know we never thought this shit was going to happen,” she adds, motioning to layers of dress.

Brenda’s daughters, Finnie, and Ma nod their heads in unison. My sister is beautiful. I can say that because it’s true, even though right now she looks like a Barbie doll shoved into a giant cupcake. Like me she has black hair, blue eyes, and light skin. If you cut us, we’d bleed Leprechauns that would dance a jig the moment their little feet hit the floor. We’re that Irish.

Wren’s problem is she has a mouth most sailors would run screaming from, and an attitude that’s even less polite. Let’s face it, none of us ever thought Wren would meet a man strong enough to tame her.

I’m happy for her and everything, but right now it sucks balls.

Wren was my safety-net because of her mouth. Finnie was too, because he was the youngest and always in trouble. As far as I was concerned, I had years, no, decades before I had to worry about settling down. But life can be a real bitch and here she is waving two giant middle fingers at me now that Finn and Wren are getting hitched.

“So what if I’m not married? So what if I haven’t popped out a few kids?” I hold out my arms. “Plenty of women have had the absolute pleasure of sampling the merchandise—”

I wince when Ma slaps me upside the head. She might be five feet nothing, but she has the agility of a cobra, and possibly the ability to fly. I’m almost 6’2. How the hell can she can reach me?

“And what happened to all these ‘ladies’ who sampled the merchandise?” Ma demands.

“I think the one is back in prison,” Finnie offers. He frowns, giving it a lot of thought. “Larceny and Fraud. Right, Seamus?”

“It’s where most of the skanks he dated belong,” Wren agrees. “Remember Kenna O’Sullivan?” We all collectively cross ourselves, including Miss Brenda’s daughters. “They never did find the body.”

“Yeah. She was a nutcase.” My voice trails. I’m not doing myself any favors. Thank God Finn has my back.

“Hey, Shoshana Greenstone was nice. Oh, and her husband was pretty damn understanding when he found out you were banging her.”

“I didn’t know she was married!” I yell for the hundredth time. “I just, you know, thought she worked odd hours.”

Wren grins. “No, she just had trouble finding a babysitter for her kids.”

“What about the others?” Ma asks. “The girls have liked you since you were a wee boy.”

“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully, my annoyance making my voice sound gruff. “No one’s really ever done it for me.” I look at them. “You want them to do it for me, don’t ya?”

Wren places her hands on her hips. She may look like a lady, all soft and dainty in all that lace, but she’ll never exactly think or talk like one. “You mean besides in the backseat of your truck?” She nods. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Ma leans in. I know what she’s going to say, even before she says it. “I was younger than you when I pushed out your baby brother onto the cold kitchen floor.”

Finn holds out his hand, looking a little green. “Ma, please don’t. Miss Brenda won’t like it if I puke on her stuff before I pay for it.”

“Then you better pay for it,” Wren says, knowing once more it’s time to tell the divine tale of Finn’s birth.

Shoot me.

The birth of a child is supposed to be a good thing, a beautiful thing, filled with miracles, stuffed animals, and balloons. Maybe for most families it is, under the right conditions. But my family doesn’t tend to do things the right way. I suppose it’s one of the many things that makes us “us.” Our hearts are usually in the right place. But the right way for birthing babies means a hospital and under sanitary conditions—not in a kitchen barely big enough for a refrigerator and stove.

I remember that day clearly. Ma was making shepherd’s pie, until she wasn’t. Her water broke like an extra-large water balloon thrown on the floor by a very pissed off toddler. She started screaming, then Angus started screaming, and Curran almost fainted. Five contractions later, Finnie was coming out and there wasn’t anything we could do to stop him.

Bastard. I missed my baseball game because of him.

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About the Author

Cecy Robson is an author of contemporary and new adult romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double-nominated RITA® Finalist, Winner of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and published author of more than twenty titles, you can typically find Cecy on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

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Spotlight: Vow of Retribution by Emma Renshaw

Vow of Retribution

The Vow Series #1 by Emma Renshaw Publication Date: May 3, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

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SYNOPSIS:

I want revenge. With scars like these, I knew I could never forget my past. With threats like these, I can’t escape, either. This time, I’m fighting back. I don’t just want my life back. I want vengeance for what was done to me. I didn’t plan to fall in love.

I want to save her. A girl like her isn’t easily forgotten. A girl like her doesn’t trust easily. I’ll fight for her—I’ll fight with her. Together, we can build a new life, free from the past. Together, we can rise. Even if we could lose everything by trying.

ABOUT EMMA RENSHAW

Emma loves to write, just don’t ask her to write about herself. If she isn’t writing, you can find her lost in a book or trying to get her doggo to take a selfie with her. He usually refuses. At the end of the day, you can find Emma at the closest Mexican restaurant eating queso and sipping on a margarita. She lives in Texas with her husband and dog.

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