Spotlight: Recklessly Ever After by Heather Van Fleet

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Gavin St. James

After the hell I’ve been through in the Marines—in life—there’s nothing I crave more than routine, stability, peace. Until McKenna Brewer walks into my life.

She’s impulsive, fiery, tempting as hell, and everything I dGavinon’t need. But when she offers me a night of no-strings-attached passion, I can’t resist.

When our night together has unexpected consequences, I can’t help but think this might be the perfect opportunity to show McKenna just how much I want her.

The only problem? She doesn’t do forevers. But forever is exactly what I need with her.

Excerpt

For a split second, I almost let her go, thinking maybe I needed more time to think this through. Plan what to do next and figure shit out.

Yet the thought of doing so was like a razor to the throat—and the absolute last thing I wanted.

Needing her more than air, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “No.”

She met my stare and whispered, “No?”

I shook my head, then I kissed her, harder this time. I expected her to fight me. Push me away and run, but her body instantly relaxed against mine, and we were right back to where we’d been just seconds before. Only this time, things moved faster.

“Need you…” I panted.

Slowly, I pulled back remembering her comment about her breasts. It made sense now why she’d said they were sensitive, but that didn’t stop me from wanting them in my mouth. Wanting to taste them most of all. So, I pulled back and lowered my head, taking my time as I held one of them in my hand. Then with the gentlest of licks, I sucked one of her nipples in between my lips, going at it with gentle laps of my tongue across the tips. She shivered so hard goose bumps danced across her skin, and a soft gasp of pleasure escaped her mouth. I teased and toyed with the ends, using my lips to kiss the peaks, my tongue to taste the edges. I gave her gentle, because she deserved it.

“That feels so good,” she moaned, encouraging me to pull at them a little harder, not too hard, but enough to drag out the low noise in her throat.

Slow, steady kisses led me to the other breast, and I used my finger to trail around the same wet tip I’d just teased. Her hips worked harder over my jeans, and I could feel the change in her body with every touch of my tongue, every lick, every kiss to her breasts.

This was the stuff of movies, the way I held her close. I didn’t know it could be this way, feel this good, and we hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. Whether that had to do with her being pregnant with my baby, or the simple thought of her not running away, I didn’t know. What I did know was that I was falling hard for the first time in my life, and it didn’t scare me like I’d thought it would. Only encouraged me to take the plunge, completely. Forever.

That thought spurred me into action, and soon I had her flat on her back on the couch. Big, blue eyes blinked up at me, lips parted, breaths panting, cheeks flushed. “You’re so beautiful,” I murmured, having no idea where to start when it came to her body—to her. Fuck, more than anything, I wanted to take my time, savor the moment, but I couldn’t wait either.

I stood and tugged my jeans and boxers off. My cock sprang free, ready, and those same eyes of hers shimmered with heat as she took me in from head to toe, back up and down again.

“I want you, McKenna. All of you. No running. No more fighting this thing between us. Just…” I sighed, dropping to my knees next to her, desperate and pleading like a man on the edge of death begging for one more minute of life. I squeezed my eyes and exhaled fast. “Just please…tell me you want this too.” I gripped the edges of her panties, the lace and silk doing little to steady my shaking hands. I was ready to pull them down, give her everything she’d ever desired. But I needed her consent, that one word. Her yes.

And then it happened.

One smile.

One nod.

Three words I never expected.

“Yes. I’m yours.”

The tightening in my chest released, and I smiled too. I smiled so fucking wide that it hurt. But I didn’t care. Because McKenna actually wanted to be with me.

With. Me.

That was the best fucking moment of my life so far.

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Spotlight: Between a Highlander and a Hard Place by Mary Wine

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A fierce Englishwoman on the run.

A Highland Laird who needs a proper wife.

And a desire neither can resist.

Athena Trappes thinks she’s in love…until she discovers the scoundrel only wanted her as his bit on the side. Enraged, she does what any spirited Englishwoman would do: set fire to his belongings, incur his dangerous wrath, and flee—immediately. With nowhere else to turn, she seeks freedom in the wilds of Scotland.

Highland Laird Symon Grant lost his wife years ago, and it’s his duty to find another. Athena is not exactly what the clan has in mind for him, but Symon’s heart burns with unexpected passion for the woman who would risk everything to be free.

Excerpt

May Day was something every man near him was looking forward to. Now that dawn had broken, they were creeping off to peek at the girls. Symon sat up, but his member wasn’t stirring at the idea.

And it damned well should have been.

Which meant he was going toward the woods because he was damned tired of the way his blood felt like it was frozen in his veins.

It was May Day. The girls washed their faces with morning dew with their hair flowing free and naught on but chemises. The only men not stirred by the idea of it all were the ones wearing sackcloth in the monastery.

At last he grinned.

He’d done too many things to be considered for a life of piety.

Too many stolen kisses on summer days.

Ah, but Tara’s had been the sweetest of them all. Shy little kisses that their wedding vows dictated she owed him, and yet he’d enjoyed coaxing them from her.

He moved through the woods, using skills he’d learned to stay alive during raids. Today was an anomaly. A day when McPherson, McTavish, Grants, Robertson, and others dispensed with their feuds in order to indulge in spring festival.

Today, he kept low to the ground and moved carefully in order not to be heard by the women. The game would last only until full light, when skirts and dresses would go back on, but the hair would be left down until sunset.

Of course the fun was catching glimpses of the girls in their chemises.

At last Symon felt his enthusiasm growing. He wasn’t sure if it was the promise of seeing a few well-turned calves or maybe just the idea of being able to sneak closer without being heard.

Not that it mattered. He crouched low, staying in the shadows close to the trees and making sure he was near enough to the river to allow the sound of the water to mask his motions. He pulled his plaid up to cover his head, the muted color of the wool allowing him to blend better with the surroundings.

Other men passed by, drawn by the soft sound of whispers farther away from the river. Symon decided to wait, leaning in so he was pressed against a thick tree trunk.

At first, he thought he imagined her.

While the other women moved deeper into the woods, this one hung back, content by herself.

Her hair was a golden cloud. Like a crown, and she wore it proudly. She was graceful but tall. It drew his attention because he was accustomed to dwarfing the women around him. She reached up, finding new spring leaves that the other girls hadn’t been able to touch, and tipped them so that the dew dripped down on her face. The wind carried her husky laughter to his ears as he felt his lips being split by a grin wider than any he’d felt in a long time.

She was magnificent.

The first rays of the sun showed him the outline of the mounds of her breasts.

Handfuls.

Ones that would fit his hands.

His member stirred. She lowered her head, and their gazes met. Her eyes widened as her lips rounded in surprise. It might have been an hour that they stood there, staring at one another; Symon honestly couldn’t have said. Her eyelids lowered, fluttering against her smooth cheeks.

He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet.

Something flickered in her eyes as he performed the common courtesy gesture. A hint of trust perhaps. He fought the urge to move closer to her, caught between the need to close the distance between them and the fear that she’d take flight if he moved.

Fear…

He hadn’t worried about a woman’s opinion of him in a very long time.

Something rustled behind them, gaining her attention, and then she took flight. Her long legs carried her swiftly, right out of his sight, as he cursed.

The lad who had startled her stood gap-jawed while she disappeared.

“Was she real?” he asked as he stopped beside Symon.

“I’d no’ be surprised to discover her a forest sprite.” He patted the younger lad on the shoulder. “But ye can be sure I’ll do me best to prove her a mortal woman before the day ends.”

And that was a promise he was going to enjoy making good on.

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Spotlight: One Chance, Fancy by Lani Lynn Vale

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Benson Bayou Beauregard is the president of the Bear Bottom Guardians MC, and the grandson of the Sergeant at Arms for the Dixie Wardens MC. He’s a mountain of a man and the warden of a prison, and there’s only one thing that can scare him—being told that he’s the father of a three-year-old little girl.

A three-year-old little girl that has no clue who he is. Hell, he only finds out about the little cherub when a woman from child protective services comes by and rocks his world before leaving the girl in his shocked arms.

Every single thing he thinks he knows goes up in a cloud of smoke.

To make matters worse, the woman that he’s been trying to convince to give him a chance takes one look at the little girl and tells him that he’s just not in the right place to handle both of them.

But Bayou was never one to back down from a challenge.

He can handle a three-year-old girl that acts exactly like him, and he can more than take on the fiery red-head that sets flame to his blood while he’s at it.

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About the Author

Lani Lynn Vale is a USA Today Bestselling Author of over thirty titles. She is married with three children, two dogs, two cats, a donkey, and a couple (a couple also meaning over twenty) chickens.

When she’s not writing, you can find her curled up in her favorite chair reading.

Lani is married with three children and lives in the Great State of Texas.

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Spotlight: Someday My Witch Will Come by Daisy Prescott

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You know those little girls who dress up as Disney princesses in the bright, shimmery costumes and dream about their prince rescuing them?

That was never me.

In this story, it's the witch who saves the prince.

Ever since I joined the Wicked Society, my tarot readings are always about sacrifice for the greater good and martyrdom. In other words, any day now I’m going to lose something or someone I love. Evidently, my spirit guides are the ride or die types.

For years, I’ve asked the cards the same question about my crush. Will Tate Winthrop fall in love with me? The answer is always someday.

As in someday Tate will love me back.

Someday there won’t be a group of witches using dark magic to destroy our coven.

Someday I’ll stop having the same dream about a handsome prince with long blond dreadlocks kissing a woman wearing a sparkly, poofy, ball gown.

Someday my witch will come.

This is book two in the Wicked Society series of interconnected lighthearted paranormal romances with a cozy mystery twist.

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Daisy Prescott writes romantic comedies about real love.

Her Modern Love Stories feature characters in their thirties and forties finding and rediscovering love in unexpected and humorous ways. Her Wingmen books star regular guys who often have beards, drive trucks, and love deeply once they fall. Daisy's Love with Altitude latest small town, rom com series is set in Aspen, Colorado. Bewitched is a magical serial set in Salem, Massachusetts. Don't miss her standalone, Tinfoil Heart, a rom com about love, letting go, and little green men.

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Enter the new release giveaway: https://jennbeachpa.com/giveaways/someday-witch-will-come-giveaway/

Read an excerpt from Seduced by a Scot by Julia London

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There’s no matchmaking an unruly heart

When a prominent Scottish family faces a major scandal weeks before their daughter’s wedding, they turn in desperation to the enigmatic fixer for the aristocracy, Nichol Bain. Remarkably skilled at making high-profile problems go away, Nichol understands the issue immediately. The family’s raven-haired ward, Maura Darby, has caught the wandering eye—and rather untoward advances—of the groom.

Nichol assuredly escorts Maura toward his proposed solution: an aging bachelor for her to marry. But rebellious Maura has no interest in marrying a stranger, especially when her handsome traveling companion has captivated her so completely. Thankfully, Nichol loves a challenge, but traveling with the bold and brash Maura has him viewing her as far more than somebody’s problem. Which raises a much bigger issue—how can he possibly elude disaster when the heart of the problem is his own?

Excerpt

Calum Garbett was not allowed to know happiness. No matter how close he came to it, his wife and daughter would swoop in at the last moment to destroy any chance of it.

The scene playing out in the drawing room was the crowning blow. He could feel all his hard work slipping through his fingers. To think of all the money and time he’d spent bringing Carron Iron Works to life. It had been a Herculean feat to forge a relationship with Thomas Cadell, an Englishman with a successful iron works of his own, who could teach the Scots the latest techniques. Techniques that would save time and money, that would enable Calum to employ more Scottish men.

He’d positioned himself to become one of the pre‐ mier industries in Scotland. If that were not true, would the Duke of Montrose be sitting beside him now, willing to invest his own money and influence into the endeavor?

Yes, Calum had bargained his daughter’s hand in marriage as part of the deal, but then again, he’d done her a great service, as her prospects for marriage had not been dazzling. Frankly, his daughter leaned a little to the homely side of things, and when young, randy men of marrying age were presented with the prospect of a potential mate who made them wince when imagining the marriage bed, they tended to shy away altogether.

Well, he’d found someone for his daughter, Sorcha, and now, she would ruin everything with her mother standing firmly beside her, all because the young rooster she was set to marry was enamored with the far fairer, and much more elusive, Maura Darby. Calum’s ward.

Calum had taken Maura under his wing twelve years ago when her father, his oldest friend, had died. The lass was quite alone in this world, and Darby had appealed to Calum’s generosity and sense of decency. Calum had been happy to do it, particularly as the lass had come with a nice bit of money, and her presence would not affect him in any way.

But he’d severely underestimated how slighted his daughter, Sorcha, would feel about it. Or, perhaps more importantly, his wife. She was quite set against the lass from the moment she arrived.

The resentment only grew over the years. As the girls became women, no matter what Calum’s wife did to improve his daughter’s looks, poor Sorcha was destined to live her life with a bulbous nose and slightly crooked eyes, while Maura blossomed into a woman with appealing ink‐black hair and eyes the same blue as a winter sky. The more alluring Maura became, the more his wife tried to push her aside. As it happened, Sorcha had been the first to receive an offer of marriage—with the help of Mrs. Garbett, who had resorted to all but locking poor Maura away.

The lass had borne it well enough, with little com‐ plaint. She’d become accustomed, he supposed, to wearing hand‐me‐downs, having her things taken and given to Sorcha—a kitten when she was thirteen, a muff a few years later, a fichu that was given to her by a friend on her twentieth birthday. And those were the things Calum knew about.

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About the Author

Julia London is the New York Times, USA Today, and Publisher’s Weekly bestselling author of more than thirty novels, including the popular Secrets of Hadley Green series, the Cabot Sisters series and The Highland Grooms historical romance series. She also wrote the Pine River and the Lake Haven contemporary romance series. She is a six time finalist for the prestigious RITA Award for excellence in romantic fiction, and RT Bookclub award recipient for Best Historical Romance for Dangerous Gentleman. She lives in Austin, Texas.

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Spotlight: Finding My Fight by R.G. Corr

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A perfect marriage? A beautiful home? Things are not always as they seem.

To everyone they knew, Ginny’s life with Blake Daniels was perfect. When Blake’s job takes them away from home and the friends Ginny has known since childhood, things start to change. On their own, in an isolated house, the man who held Ginny up through her mother’s passing is no longer the kind, supportive man she thought she’d married. In his place now resides a cruel beast whose only desire is to control her. Ginny’s life as she knows it, becomes indelibly marked with every bruise he leaves on her, and every callous word he sends her way.

When the unthinkable happens, Ginny is forced to find the strength she needs to leave and rebuild her life without Blake. Yet nothing could have prepared her for what was still to come. Ginny believed the nightmare was over, but it was only just beginning. Her husband is back, and there’s only one reason he’s here.

For her.

Exclusive Excerpt

I glance down to the faded and weathered-looking wood panels of the bench I’m sitting on. From a distance, you don’t notice the beaten, worn appearance. It’s only when you get closer you see the extent of the damage. The colour stain on the wood lifts in various places. One slat is cracked and brittle to the touch. It even feels damp underneath my legs due to the coldness of the day. It’s damaged, but it’s still here, providing what it promises. A respite.

Some would choose not to sit on this bench, instead preferring the modern shiny versions further down the road. Yet for me, this bench is a flicker of hope. Sitting here means I’m one step closer to talking to somebody. One step closer to proving that the situation I’m in is not normal or right.

My focus rests on the alley across the road where today I had hoped I would find the courage to walk. But uncertainty lingers in my heart and mind like a dead weight, holding me down.

To passers-by, you’d be forgiven for believing I possess courage. I appear well groomed and in control. How can I be anything else? Why would I want to admit that I’m ashamed of the person I’ve become? I’m so used to faking a smile that at one time, I wondered if it was fixed permanently on my face. Now I know it isn’t. My smile no longer presents itself freely. It’s displayed as an act. A performance.

My hands jitter in my lap, the only physical indication of the fear and uncertainty that racks my body. If I go in there, I admit I’m that person, that woman who allows herself to be beaten. Only allowing isn’t really the right term. I don’t give permission. I beg for him to stop. I plead like a helpless child. How can I still love him, when I hate what he does to me? With each word and every shock of pain, I fear the love I have for him is lessening and the hatred growing. But the loathing isn’t solely for him, it’s for me too.

Walking away from Blake requires a strength that I don’t hold. Take now. I’ve been here for over half an hour, only occasionally daring to glance at the building I should be walking into. I sit, surrounded by high-rise buildings and impressive monuments, emphasising how small and insignificant I truly am. So full of self-pity, Ginny. I curl my lip up at the truth of my thoughts.

Company arrives on the other side of the bench, surprising me. On the four times I’ve been here, I’ve not seen one person even come near the bench. I don’t look up to acknowledge whoever it is. Instead, I move even closer to the armrest on my right, increasing our distance and feeling that little bit safer with the wood by my side. I shift my attention to the brick built buildings in front of me. There are a number of offices, some shops, but it’s down the wide alley where my focus lies. A trail of shops and offices lead to an alcove with the blue door that holds my attention. It’s only just visible from where I’m sitting.

I clasp my hands together in my lap in a bid to cease the shaking, but the movement causes my sleeve to ride up slightly, and the edging of the bruise on my wrist comes into view. Immediately, I tug on my jacket pulling the cuffs into my palm. My cheeks heat with shame, I dip my head and retreat further into the back of the bench, hoping for whoever it is sitting near me, not to have seen.

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About the Author

R.G. Corr is a mum of three who has had an overactive imagination for many years. A discussion with a friend at a soft play area, amidst the noise and mayhem of toddlers, finally convinced her to put pen to paper and create her first novel.

R.G. lives in Nottinghamshire, England and although Sherwood Forest is just down the road, she prefers the sight and sounds of Holywell Bay in Cornwall to provide the inspiration she desires. It has become one of her most loved places.

When R.G. is not working or writing, you'll find her nose deep in her kindle swooning over her latest book boyfriend.

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