Spotlight: This Pucking Ship by A.M. Williams

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When there’s Love as Sea, can a former one-night stand turn into forever? Being on a lover’s cruise wasn’t hockey star, Dylan Harding’s idea of a dream vacation, but when he runs into a past one-night-stand, it suddenly has its perks. For Maureen Burke, avoiding the hunky athlete and all their chemistry while at sea is the key to keeping her job. Fans of forced proximity romances will love THIS PUCKING SHIP by A.M. Williams, a sexy sports romance.

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What started as a one-night stand has become an entire week stuck at sea. Can these two unlikely lovers figure things out or will one of them jump off this pucking ship?

Maureen

Taking a job working in the gym on a cruise ship seemed like a good plan, especially after being dumped and fired from my last job, thanks to my cheating ex.

What I wasn’t counting on was running into the hockey superstar I had a one-night stand with.

Now I’m stuck trying to avoid the chemistry between us despite his relentless pursuit before I find myself put out to sea.

I just need to survive this cruise with my head down and avoid the drama.

Dylan

Being a guest on a lover’s cruise wasn’t my idea of a dream vacation. 

But running into the woman I can’t get out of my head? Now, that’s a dream come true.

I swore I wasn’t interested in a relationship, but the sparks between us make it hard for me to resist. Except she’s more worried about protecting her job aboard the ship than me.

Maybe it’s for the best if we go our separate ways especially once we’re off this pucking ship.

But back on land a unique opportunity to help Maureen secure her dream job presents itself. I’ll stop at nothing to make it happen because as much as she needs this job, I need her and this position will give us both what we want.

This Pucking Ship is a sports romance with a slightly forbidden twist, part of the Love at Sea multi-author series. Get ready to set sail through the Caribbean on Festival Cruises’ most alluring voyage with eight of your favorite authors - happily ever after guaranteed!

Experience everything the Love at Sea series has to offer. From speed dating to masquerades, guests are sure to enjoy the hot days and steamy nights. Explore hidden waterfalls, swim with dolphins, and watch as eight couples find their forever on the open ocean.

Excerpt 

Copyright 2022 @A.M. Williams

It was October in New Orleans, so it wasn’t exactly cool outside.

But it was better than the oppressiveness of the inside.

I glanced up and down the street, noting more people were out now.

As I looked around, I noticed a small patio area I hadn’t seen before when we arrived, too busy sticking close to Heidi to notice anything about the place she’d taken me to.

A quick glance confirmed it was a part of the bar I was at and that it wasn’t packed.

There were empty tables scattered throughout the space. With the realization I could sit down, my feet started throbbing.

I practically sprinted to an open table along the wooden fence, sinking down and sighing as the pressure was taken off my poor feet.

That’s what I got for letting Heidi talk me into wearing one of her cute pairs of boots instead of the sandals I wanted to wear.

I sighed in relief as I sipped my quickly warming beer, watching the knots of people outside.

There were several groups clustered at tables and on the other side of the patio was an outdoor bar.

I briefly wondered why everyone hadn’t come outside instead of staying in, but realized that inside was where the real party was. It seemed like outside was where people came to hang out.

I was fine with the hanging out over the partying. I felt too old to be inside in the thick of things.

Come to think of it, the last time I’d partied hard had been my last year of grad school. Heidi had taken me out then, forcing me to drink shot after shot after graduating.

I suddenly remembered why I didn’t party hard and grimaced with my next sip of beer.

I shuddered at the memories and was glad I was sticking to beer and not drinking hard liquor.

“You look too serious to be sitting here alone,” a husky male voice said to my right.

I sipped my beer as I looked toward who was speaking and promptly choked on it when I got a look at the guy standing there. Tall, dark, and handsome barely scratched the surface of how good he looked.

I coughed as I put my glass down, sputtering and trying not to spit beer on him.

He smirked as he sat down across from me, a beer in his hand. “I can say I’ve had a lot of reactions over the years, but not sure I’ve ever had someone choke when they saw me.”

I wheezed as I tried to catch my breath, a knot settling in my throat as I tried not to hyperventilate.

After a few moments, I was breathing easier and looked back at the guy.

It was Dylan Harding. I recognized him immediately, which is why I choked.

He was starting forward for North Carolina’s hockey team. While hockey in North Carolina might not be as popular as you’d think, I took notice when there was a hottie on the team.

And Dylan Harding was the hottest of the hotties. When he’d first started playing, I was just starting my career as a physical therapist and hoped to work with professional athletes at some point.

He was only a few years older than me and dead sexy. Light blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and a physique that would make most grown men and women cry. I didn’t know anyone that was in better physical shape than he was.

So while I watched little hockey or really understood it, I understood a sexy man.

“Sorry,” I finally said, after realizing I was staring at him. I thought fast and quipped, “I wasn’t sure if I was really seeing a demon or not. You took me by surprise.”

Dylan grinned and laughed, shaking his head as he sipped his beer. “Quick on your feet. I like it.”

I shrugged and sipped my beer much more carefully this time.

“You from here?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nah, here for work. You?”

He got a funny look on his face at my question, but shook his head as well. “Nah, just visiting.”

Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

I looked around us as I took another gulp of my drink, trying to grasp onto something to talk about with my celebrity crush, but was drawing a blank.

“I’ve seen some of your games,” I finally blurted.

Dylan’s eyes widened. “Games?”

I nodded quickly. “Yeah. At PNC Arena.”

He stared at me for a few beats. “You recognize me?”

He sounded baffled by this thought, and I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, I recognize you. I’m from North Carolina.”

His eyes widened briefly, then his expression cleared. “Sorry, I meant nothing by it. You just said nothing when I sat down, so I assumed you didn’t know who I was.”

I pursed my lips as I considered what to say.

“I wasn’t going to admit to knowing you,” I finally said. “But couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I panicked.”

He nodded slowly, studying me, his gaze raking over me.

“So you’re a hockey fan?”

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About A.M. Williams 

A.M. Williams is just a simple girl from the south that found herself living in Germany for six years, and now in Florida. When she’s not annoying her cat or reading, she’s spending time with her husband and planning trips to the beach, which is now only an hour away. She’s a total beach bum and would spend every day there if she could. She loves Cheerwine, sweet tea, and North Carolina (eastern style) BBQ as well as crisp, German white wine at any time of day.

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Spotlight: The Timber Stone by Dave Abare

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Release Date: October 26, 2022

Publisher:  Hear Our Voice LLC

Joshua Traxon, a former L.A.-based rock star, and B-list reality show fixture left L.A. for small-town Vermont hoping to write his memoir. Escaping a past filled with lies, reckless drunken behavior, salacious backstage tales, and death will push him to his limits, especially as he recounts it on paper for the world to read.

Josh and his frenetic pug Pickle have a routine: Josh drinks away his pain while struggling to write, and Pickle reminds him that he's still alive, with his infectious personality and boundless love. When Josh meets Laurel, his new neighbor, along with her precocious young boy, he'll struggle with that routine as he falls in love, attempting to evolve and reconcile with his boorish former persona. A tragic death that's haunted him for years will fight to pull him back to the edge of despair, but not before Laurel's own life-changing secret knocks Josh off his feet-and deeper into a bottle. Only a journey home, where he'll unearth a forgotten childhood relic, may save him from himself. If it's not too late.

Excerpt

The daylight had stretched itself over the landscape of my front yard, bending off the bright white corners of the outside trim and spilling into pockets that had been dark an hour earlier. A lone beam ricocheted off one of the white gutters that hung from the piece of roofing that covered my front porch, illuminating a patch of grass that was withered and amber in color. In L.A. ninety percent of the grass looked that way, and if you were lucky, you'd get a patch of hunter green, shaggy growth here and there on your lawn, which in total was no bigger than a card table. This particular patch, however, wasn't the result of poor soil or climate, but instead, the ball of wrinkles and eyeballs I was carrying.

When I lived out west, one of the roadies and guitar techs for my band, Jeremiah Stoven—what a name on that guy—showed up at my place with this nine-week-old puppy. It was wiggling and whining to get out of his arms, dead staring me, so he let it go and the dog was about to stroke out trying to climb up my leg. I sat down on the floor, and his wrinkled, smushed-in face released this maniacal tongue that wiped across every inch of my cheeks and chin as Jeremiah told me their dog had four puppies and this was the last one. He knew I was a dog nut and said he wanted me to have it. Ballsy move, just showing up with it, aware that I'd always been enamored with the critters. I hadn't had a dog in ages, so Jeremiah said, “It's time, dude,” and just left the two-pound hairball with me, almost four years ago now. Have to say, it was a near genius move on Jeremiah's part, arriving pup in hand, never letting me get a word in, and then vanishing as the canine was pissing on my Fender jazz bass. The little bugger had some accidents early on, but he was a quick study to housebreaking.

Pickle had decided, for reasons that only his tiny, deranged mind could know, that when he peed in the front yard of his new place, it would only happen on this one, now brownish spot of turf. He’d storm out of the house, perform his ritualistic dance of what I'd always called “devil circles,” where he’d speed in figure eights confined to a small stretch of earth, then explode into random darts and weaves with his tongue dangling and flopping like an uncooked slice of bacon out of the side of his mouth. Then, without warning, he’d make a beeline to ‘the spot’ and take a leak. I guess this lunatic expulsion of energy was formally called “the zoomies,” according to whatever experts study dogs going batshit nuts, and it was completely normal, but a sight to behold. He'd always done the frantic running, zoomy whatever it is, but the peeing on that specific patch was new behavior. Of course, I had just taken a small animal that had known the same home for his entire life across the country and plopped him in a place that looked entirely different than anything he'd experienced. There was one dainty tree in our backyard in L.A. that wasn't any taller than the fence that bordered our property, and now he's surrounded by hundreds that dwarf most of the houses we had on our old block.

Go ahead and take a leak wherever you want, buddy.

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About the Author

Dave Abare was born in Hartford, Connecticut, and has spent most of his life in and around the Connecticut area. He became enamored with writing at a very young age, writing his first book, "Troll Island" at eleven years old. This work was never published, thankfully, but it was the beginning of a passion that has only intensified over his adult years.

His love of music led him to begin a part-time gig as a music writer, interviewing bands for his own "Fanzine" in the mid-eighties, including such Metal icons as Slayer, Metallica, and Anthrax, as well as bands such as Van Halen, Blues Traveler, Motorhead and Big Head Todd and the Monsters for other publications. In the last several years, Dave has spent his time working on short stories, poems, and his debut novel, "The Swing Over the Ocean," which was, in his words, “a bit of a mess” in terms of editing, etc., but an invaluable self-publishing learning experience. Most recently, he's completed work on his second novel, “The Timber Stone,” which is available for pre-order now.

In addition to writing and music, Dave enjoys reading, travel, cars, and Pugs (and all critters), as well as frequenting local New England wineries and breweries, with Tree House Brewing Co in Charlton, MA being his favorite. You can follow him @AbareDavey on Twitter or look for his Facebook Author Page.

Website: daveabare.com

Twitter: @abaredavey

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordaveabare

Instagram: @authodavect

Spotlight: The Doc's Holiday Homecoming: A Clean Romance by Virginia McCullough

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GENRE: Contemporary Romance (Clean)

Could her closed heart…

Still have room for him?

Olivia Donoghue’s life has turned a corner. The radiologist’s eleven-year-old daughter is finally healthy, and she just moved to her best friend’s dreamy hometown of Adelaide Creek, Wyoming. If only her friend’s prodigal brother, Jeff Stanhope, wasn’t complicating matters. It's clear Jeff's kindness knows no bounds, having taken in his late roommate's teenage son and also offering her a cabin to stay in, but Olivia’s heart is already full…and safe. Is the former rancher worth the risk?

Excerpt

Olivia nodded toward the window. “Jillian and I have seen Carson out back practicing at the hoop. If he makes the team, I promised Jillian we’ll go to the games when I’m free to take her.”

Jeff turned to face her. “If you’re working, and you’re all right with it, she can come with me. I plan to get to every single game.”

Same as an attentive dad. That thought popped up, and equally fast, Olivia resisted it. Jeff wasn’t Jillian’s dad. Carson wasn’t her brother. Olivia was presuming something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. “I wouldn’t want to impose. That’s taking on a lot.”

“Not really.” Jeff frowned. “Those two are growing up friends. They’re creating memories that include each other, right down to picking out Christmas trees.”

“Yes,” Olivia said, not adding the part about their appearing to be siblings. Some days, a life with Jeff was so possible, so real, it left her shaky with fear.

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Virginia McCullough is thrilled to share her eighth Harlequin Heartwarming release with readers. The Doc’s Holiday Homecoming, available November 29th, is the second book in her Back to Adelaide Creek series. Like all of Virginia’s romances, this holiday story comes straight from the heart and features characters who could be your neighbors and friends struggling with everyday life issues.

Born and raised in Chicago, Virginia spent years as a ghostwriter, producing more than one hundred books for physicians, business owners, professional speakers and many others with information to share or a story to tell. She’s moved around a lot, and a few years ago she landed in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where she enjoys hanging out with other romance writers, walking on trails, and downing mugs of dark roast at local coffeehouses. Her other award-winning romance and women’s fiction titles include The Jacks of Her Heart, Amber Light, and The Chapels on the Hill. Virginia is always working on another story about hope, healing, and second chances.

Connect with Virginia online:

Website:  https://www.virginiamccullough.com/

Newsletter:  http://eepurl.com/JUJCb

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/468913.Virginia_McCullough

BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/virginia-mccullough

Spotlight: Resting Grinch Face by Alina Jacobs

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Publication date: November 17th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

I might not be able to ruin his life, but I will ruin his Christmas.
Yeah, I’m totally a grinch. But I come by it honestly.
Because of Oliver Frost, I flamed out at Harvard in the most humiliating way possible.
Now I’m back in my small town—just in time to suffer through a display of small-town Christmas cheer so festive it will make you puke your eggnog. But who cares about being home for the holidays when you live with your family like a loser and have to share one bathroom with seven other people?

I plan to spend my Christmas purgatory being tsked at by elderly residents and passive aggressively prodded by my mom’s friends about what I plan to do with my life.
I don’t know, Deborah, work in the Christmas market and get screamed at by tourists because I didn’t put enough sprinkles on their little brats’ coffees? Seriously, who gives five-year-olds that much caffeine anyway?!

See? Like I said. A grinch.
I hate Christmas.
I set a nativity scene on fire.
Got in a fistfight with an elf—I lost, by the way.
And threw a vat of Snowman Surprise all over Oliver. Don’t ask. Small-town Christmas insanity.
Sleigh what? Oliver is here???
The man who humiliated me and ruined my life?

Ho ho ho, fuck no.

He doesn’t deserve a quaint small-town Christmas.
He doesn’t deserve a fancy Christmas tree from my family’s farm.
And he certainly does not deserve to win a bottle of whiskey in the daily Christmas market raffle.
Goddamn, I needed that drink.
He should be haunted like Ebenezer Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Past. Or at least the Ghost of Hookups Past.

Momma’s gonna have herself a very merry Christmas revenge.
Swapping the salt and sugar so his Christmas cookies are ruined? Be still, my shriveled little heart.
Spying on him so I can gather recon to ruin his holidate? Damn, I forgot how ripped his chest was.
Sneaking down his chimney to steal all the presents under his tree? Amateur hour.
Until I get caught…

Guess I’m spending Christmas in jail.
But when he sees I’m not wearing a bra under my ugly Christmas sweater, Oliver smiles like Santa has come early.
Crap! I knew I should have worn my good underwear.

Hold on to your stockings because the eggnog is spicy and mostly booze. This is a f-second-chances, Santa-stalker, holiday-revenge romantic comedy. Featuring Christmas-hating heroines with poor decision-making skills, ripped guys who will leave a very large package under your tree, and adorable corgis dressed up as reindeer, this standalone book has a happily ever after, guaranteed!

Excerpt

I slid like a squirrel straddling the roof peak, scooting along the ridgeline to the massive brick fireplace. I pried the round ceramic top off and stuck my head inside. 

The Victorians liked their fireplaces. 

While my parents’ wood-burning fire was more of a stovepipe, this house had been built to hold a massive fire. 

I swung my feet over and shimmied into the chimney. Below me, Max must have figured out what was up because he was barking, the noise echoing up the chimney shaft. 

“Dang, I can’t believe I fit,” I marveled. The cold air whipped my face, and I had a moment of clarity. 

“Maybe this was a bridge too far,” I said and tried to hoist myself back up. 

The chimney rim was slick with ice. My hand slipped. Then I fell down into the sooty black tube. 

I stopped abruptly, my teeth knocking together. 

“Help,” I squeaked. 

I was stuck in the chimney, my arms wedged up above my head. Every time I let out a breath I slid farther down. My skirt was wedged under my boobs, and my sweater was wrapped around my head and neck. 

“Help!” I rasped, kicking my legs. “Max, get help.”

The dog’s frantic barking changed to excited yips. 

A pair of strong arms wrapped around my soot-covered thighs. 

In any other scenario, I would have been really put out that Oliver was finally touching me only after I had flaked on working out the past year and developed a layer of winter flab. But I just wanted to be free. It was difficult to breathe.

“Save me,” I forced myself to whisper. 

“Shit,” Oliver said, giving a solid tug on my legs. 

I wedged down farther. 

“I think you’re stuck in there.” His hands disappeared.

“Don’t leave me,” I begged. 

His hand was back, his thumb stroking me reassuringly on my ankle. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to call the fire department. We’ll probably have to dismantle the chimney. I’m sure my neighbors will complain to me about it.” I heard the eye roll in his voice. Then his phone emitted beeps.

I kicked my feet. “Don’t you dare, Oliver Frost. Don’t you dare call the fire department. My mother will find out. I’ll be the talk of the town for years. Decades. It will be on my tombstone.”

“I can’t leave you here,” he said, voice echoing up the shaft. 

“Oh, yes you can. I insist. I’ll be dead and done rotting in about three weeks. Then we can all just pretend this never happened.”

“Are you insane?” 

Oh God. I had a horrible thought.

He can probably see straight up my crotch.

Was I wearing my nice underwear? Did I even own any sufficiently nice underwear? 

“Please,” I begged. “My life is shit. Please just try pulling me out one more time?”

“I’m afraid to make you more stuck. Embarrassment won’t kill you.”

“It literally will,” I shrieked with my remaining breath. 

Oliver muttered something that sounded like “God save me from this woman.” 

“Fine,” he grumbled, moving the logs and the metal grate out of the way. “I’m giving this one shot. Then we’re going to host the fire department for the second time in as many days.” 

After a rustling of fabric, his large hands slid up my bare legs.

“Sorry for manhandling you like this.”  

His bare arms circled my waist, and I squawked as he wrapped them around my bare torso, connecting my body with his. 

I could feel his bare chest against my thighs. 

His head was somewhere in crotch vicinity, and he squeezed me tight. 

Maybe I could just tell him to eat me out and then die happy. 

Oliver gave a sharp hard tug. My sweater slipped up. 

He adjusted his grasp and pulled, grunting hard. 

“I think I’m moving,” I called. 

He gave one more strong tug. My sweater ripped, and then I was free, tumbling down in a heap of ash and yarn on top of him. 

He was covered in black soot. It was all over his pale skin, turning his hair a dark gray and making his eyes a startlingly bright blue. 

“See,” I said, spreading my arms. “I knew you could do it. And you wanted to call the fire department.”

He didn’t say a word. He was staring at me, or more specifically my boobs. 

I looked down. 

“Elf balls.” 

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About the Author

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!

http://alinajacobs.com/mailinglist.html

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Spotlight: Moon Tamed by Audrey Greene

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Publication date: December 6th 2022
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Coraline Patten enjoys nothing more than facing new challenges, but when she’s asked to evaluate Moonriver’s ruling faction, she worries she’s bitten off more than she can chew.

Allasandro Stephans has reigned since she’d been a child, unwavering in his dedication to Moonriver. His heir, Calden, has supported him every step of the way. Together, the shapeshifting widower and his son appear to be the perfect men for the job of preserving and protecting their home.

When Moonriver’s heir asks her to free his father from the burden of leadership, Coraline is determined to do what is best for her people, even if it costs her the love of her life.

Excerpt

I should have called in sick. Had I pretended to suffer from some ailment, my name wouldn’t have been added to the list of potential sacrificial lambs doomed to work for the Hunters of Moonriver for the next week, possibly for longer.

I enjoyed change, and I preferred it on a daily basis.

The Hunters of Moonriver would give me change for a few days, but after the first week, the monotony would drive me insane. All factions were alike. Once someone settled into their role, that was that. They stared down an endless tunnel of the same old, climbing the social ladder for higher pay, slight modifications to their duty, and more responsibility.

After a month of that, I would surely go mad.

As one of Moonriver’s unaffiliated, I flitted from faction to faction, filling in for those who couldn’t work for whatever reason. I preferred when I covered for one of the craft factions, but after a week of doing the same job, I craved new waters, new experiences, and new people.

I loved the thrill of discovery, and none of the factions had offered me the variety I needed to be satisfied with my lot in life. As such, I remained one of the oldest unaffiliated in the city, working at a temp firm.

My boss understood how I ticked and made sure I could test new waters often.

Had I done something to irritate my boss? A job with a minimum duration of a week would drive me insane, although I would do it with a smile fixed into place on my face if it was asked of me. 

“I knew I should have selected a faction last quarter.” Of my co-workers, Sila tended to be the first to voice a complaint but the last to do anything about her situation. Had anyone else tried that garbage with me, I would have moved on, but Sila somehow managed to make me smile even in the most dire of situations. While she complained and rarely acted, if she could help someone else, she would.

My friend was the queen of contradictions.

She cleared her throat to make certain she held my attention. As she rarely put up such a fuss, I did as she wanted and met her gaze.

“I told you we should have made our selections last quarter, Coraline,” Sila whined.

Any other day, I would have told her to mind her own business or muttered about her attitude. Today, I wanted to join her, abandoning my professionalism to indulge in a childish temper tantrum over the situation. If I had picked a faction last quarter, I would have avoided the entire situation, but I doubted I would have been happy with my choice.  Still, she made a good point. “You might be right. How many qualified for the job?” With a little luck, all six hundred or so employees could be picked, significantly limiting my chance of being the unlucky one.

The last thing I needed was a long-term contract with the any faction, let alone the undisputed rulers of Moonriver.

“Twenty,” Sila informed me in a solemn tone. “Of which we are two of the twenty. I peeked at the list. More accurately, the boss asked me to warn you that you are on the list, and that he will not believe any excuse you might concoct to dodge this. As such, you can’t dodge your dance with doom, and I fear it’s probable you’re the unlucky soul stuck with the Hunters contract. Why else would he make me make you show up?”

Until it was confirmed I was stuck with the contract, I would hold hope someone else would win the assignment. As there were more than twenty people in the room, I assumed our boss had another reason for calling most of our floor together for handing out our daily duties. Usually, he either dropped the contracts off or sent us an email telling us we had feet and should use them. 

I longed to voice a curse, but professionalism demanded I remain silent. 

“There’s a rumor that the odds aren’t equal. By request.” 

I relaxed, as my general skill set meant I spent most of my time working with craft or artisan factions. “The boss asked you toy with me, didn’t he?”

“Maybe a little. He didn’t tell me who was picked, just that somebody has already been assigned the contract, and that you have to deal with the same stress just like everyone else. But you’re no Hunter, and everybody knows it. But maybe the boss wants to add a little extra versatility to your resume? It’s only for a week or two, as far as I know.”

The wolf-dominated Hunters needed athletic, strong people with a fondness for difficult challenges.

I preferred difficult mental challenges, especially when numbers were involved. While anyone could discover their animal and begin shifting at any age, those who wanted to shift actively pursued their magic—or partnered with a shapeshifter.

I had opted against putting in the effort; I struggled enough with life without the additional complications of shapeshifting. I also dodged dating shapeshifters, as most who married a shifter developed their magic through frequent exposure.

As such, I did my best to avoid anyone associated with the Hunters of Moonriver, who ran the city and the nearby towns with iron paws but common sense and tolerable ethics.

“Well, that should eliminate me, then,” I said, allowing myself a relieved sigh. “Me, working with the Hunters? You said it yourself. I’m no Hunter.”

Fur would fly, and not in a good way.

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About the Author

Audrey Greene writes sweet paranormal and urban fantasy splashed with some romance and hints of science fiction. She lives in California, loves going to the beach, and appreciates taking the time to smell the roses.

Connect:

https://www.audreygreenebooks.com/

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAudreyGreene

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22232568.Audrey_Greene

Spotlight: Badge of Honor by India Lord

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Publication date: December 5th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Scars—a badge of honor denoting strength.

Milly
My hellish month is looking up!
I’ve scored a private nursing job.
No more sleeping in my car, stressing about my debts.
My patient is a military man. Gorgeous. Tattooed. Built. He’s also temporarily blind and tries to sack me during my first hour on the job.
I’m way past desperate, so let him try to banish me.

Connor
All I want is to recover and return to my men in Afghanistan.
The problem is without my sight, I’m helpless as a kitten.
My family treats me like a child. When they get tired of my temper, they hire her.
The woman is determined, I’ll give her that. But there’s something about her that intrigues me, makes my mind wander to kissing and pleasure and soft curves.
Too bad we have no future.

Contains a grumpy, injured military man, a scarred nurse, and a little small town instalove, which makes everything better.

Excerpt
“Hold still while I clean your face. You’re bleeding everywhere. I’m going to place my hand on your shoulder.” A verbal warning, so he didn’t freak at the physical contact. I continued to inform him of my intentions.

The tension left his broad shoulders, and his frown relaxed maybe a millimeter. Up close, he was a handsome specimen. More rugged than pretty, his skin a golden bronze from sun exposure. A shaggy beard framed his mouth and jawline, and he wore a pair of black shorts and nothing else. Tattoos curled across his biceps and decorated sculpted pectoral muscles.

“Are you staring at me?” he asked, his bandaged gaze turning in my direction.

“Yes.”

“Well, stop.”

“I’m a nurse.”

“It doesn’t feel like a nurse stare,” he muttered.

A snicker escaped me. “Hold the gauze to your cheek while I open the iodine.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“True, but you’ve bled over the sheets.” I seized his right hand and lifted it to his cheek.

“You’re bossy.” Now he sounded intrigued rather than grumpy.

“It comes with the job.” I deftly opened the iodine bottle and transferred the yellow liquid to a blob of cotton wool. An instant later, I lifted his hand and covered the wound with the pungent liquid.

“Ow.”

“Don’t be a baby.” I lifted the cotton wool and applied a plaster covered with cartoon characters. “That should do the trick.”

“What have you done?” He’d heard the grin in my words.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve used my niece’s plasters,” he said after a long pause. He stood abruptly, anger and frustration returning to his features. “Dammit, I don’t need a nurse. Talk to Carolyn on your way out, and she’ll pay you for today. You’re fired.”

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About the Author

An incurable romantic and a lover of reading—romance, of course—it was inevitable India Lord turned to writing next. India writes sassy, steamy romances with strong alpha heroes, curvy heroines who are no pushovers, and a happy ending. A must, in India’s opinion.

When India isn’t writing, she loves to walk and explore the countryside. She’s also a dedicated researcher of cheese scones—her favorite treat to eat with a cup of tea.

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