Spotlight: Whiskey by Sybil Bartel

(The Alpha Elite, #7)

Publication date: May 23rd 2023

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense

Synopsis:

Mercenary.

Navy SEAL.

Unconventional Operative.

I didn’t join the Teams. I was recruited. They called me the Specialist. They said I had a unique skill set. I knew who I was.

For eight years, the Navy tried to rein me in with their tactics, techniques and procedures—operations, missions, objectives—they told me to adapt and overcome. I didn’t adapt. I did my time.

Now I worked for Alpha Elite Security. If you called me Specialist, I’d eliminate you before you took your next breath. If you recognized me, it was already too late. I lived by my instincts, and used the resources around me. No target was out of my scope…until my boss unknowingly handed me the only assignment that was.

The one woman I couldn’t kill.

Code name: Whiskey.

Mission: Eliminate.

WHISKEY is a standalone book in the exciting Alpha Elite Series by USA Today Bestselling author, Sybil Bartel. Come meet Will “Whiskey” Damien and the dominant, alpha heroes who work for AES!

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About the Author

Sybil Bartel is a USA Today Bestselling author of unapologetic alpha heroes. Whether you're reading her deliciously dominant mercenaries, bodyguards or military heroes, all of her heart-stopping, page-turning romantic suspense novels have sexy-as-sin alpha heroes!

Sybil resides in South Florida and she is forever Oliver’s mom.

To find out more about Sybil Bartel or her books, please visit her at:
Website: http://sybilbartel.com/
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Spotlight: The Echo Series by C.R. Alam

Echoing Hearts - Book 1

Genre: Contemporary Romance 

From the series readers are calling, "Hot, steamy, and deliciously complicated."

The harder they resist, the louder their hearts echo each other.

Rae Allen doesn't believe in the happily-ever-after. After watching her mother deteriorate from a broken heart into a full depression, she vowed never to fall in love. She is living her dream, traveling the world, and getting paid for it. She does not need a man.

Dean Rowland has no complaints. He has a thriving business, more money than he'll ever need, and supportive family and friends. Even after his fiancée ditched him at the altar, he kept going like nothing had happened. Swearing off women and affairs was his best decision.

One spring afternoon in Georgia, their lives collide. Rae's first impression of Dean is that he's hot; her second is he's an ass. Dean isn't expecting a sassy redhead trespassing into his property, let alone having to play host to her. Unknown to them, this unexpected weekend is only the beginning that will change their lives forever.

Until Rae's rockstar best friend, Brandon, comes into the picture, stirring up jealousy and doubt between them. Struggling with unexpected passion, longing, and distrust in this emotional rollercoaster ride, will they recognize and embrace love when being in love is their biggest fear? 

Excerpt

The annoyance level on the handsome face seemed to elevate instead of dissipating with her every word. Without responding to Rae, he pushed himself off to the other side of the pool. He pulled himself out in one smooth move.

Taken aback by the unwelcoming attitude, Rae could only follow his lithe movements. She got a good look at his swimmer’s lean muscled upper body, a defined stomach that narrowed down to strong-looking hips, and a fine behind. She couldn’t help but appreciate his well-toned long legs in clinging black swimming trunks before he grabbed a large white towel to dry himself off.

Realizing she was gawking, Rae averted her gaze to the sky and tried to fill the silence. “I rang the doorbell several times. When nobody answered, I thought I’d go—”

“Snoop around a private property?” he interrupted without even giving her a glance.

Sensing the quiet hostility in his otherwise intriguingly even voice, Rae was lost for words for a few seconds. The thought that Mrs. Hamilton was lucky to have both a beautiful home and a sexy husband evaporated from her mind.

She didn’t just drive four hours for some man to accuse her of breaking and entering. She took several quick steps to confront him but stopped once he turned to her as if he had some invisible power to freeze her. But he didn’t manage to suppress her rising temper.

“I’ve actually been requested to snoop around this property this weekend.” Rae used her sweet-as-honey voice with a hint of a sting. “Mrs. Hamilton arranged it with Homes magazine. She must’ve forgotten to cc you on the memo.”

This time, he merely raised his eyebrow at her. One eyebrow.

Rae stifled a groan of irritation as she watched him pick up a cellphone and walk away to make a call. She pulled out her own phone and dialed Susan.

“Hi, you’ve reached Susan Adler’s phone. Please leave a message,” the automated reply came on.

“Susan, I’m here at the property, but there’s no Katherine Hamilton to meet me.” Rae hissed into the phone. “Instead, there’s a guy here who looks ready to chop my head off for trespassing. Call me back. Or better yet, please fix this.”

She then tried calling the number for Katherine Hamilton once more. Another voicemail.

Rae sighed and tried to clamp down on her growing frustration. She reminded herself she was good at going with the flow and finding her way out of a jam. It was just a mix-up. Nothing she hadn’t handled before.

But boy, that Mr. Hamilton really got her goat without even trying. She swept her gaze to the lake’s calm surface and took a deep breath. A spring afternoon in the south could get a bit toasty. But after spending her childhood in Minnesota, Rae would savor a sunny warm day in early April anytime.

But then a cool breeze blew in, and her nose tickled. “Haa…choo!”

The sneeze didn’t stop with one. Another two followed consecutively.

“Pollen,” the deep voice came from behind her and surprised Rae’s sneezing to a stop.

Snatching a tissue from her purse, Rae quickly cleaned her nose as she muttered, “No shit.”

Apparently, she misjudged the volume of her voice because when she turned, Mr. Hamilton’s questioning raised eyebrow indicated he’d heard her. But at least he looked somewhat amused. Perhaps, she could still clear up any misunderstanding. She could swallow her pride for the sake of professionalism.

“Look, I’d like to apologize again. Obviously, you weren’t informed of my arrival. There was a last-minute change, but I am supposed to be here,” Rae started. “But if this weekend has become inconvenient, I’m sure Homes can arrange a new time.”

Rae studied the infuriating man—still distractingly bare-chested, she noted—trying to gauge his reaction. But his mouth didn’t even twitch to indicate that he’d accepted her explanation.

Fine. I don’t need to take this crap. I tried.

Rae turned up her smile. “I will go. Thank you for your…” she paused before injecting a trace of venom into her voice, “…hospitality.”

She spun around and was already halfway down the steps when his voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Kat is on her way,” he said. “She asked if you’d wait.”

Rae rolled her eyes and exhaled slowly to release her exasperation. He couldn’t tell her that before she stomped away?

Turning toward the man yet again, Rae said through gritted teeth, “I really don’t want to bother—”

“Too late,” he deadpanned. “Have a seat. Kat will be here soon.”

Without another word, he walked away to the far side of the house and vanished through a set of French doors. Rae was left alone where she stood with her mouth open.

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His Forever Muse - Book 2

From the series readers are calling, "Hot, steamy, and deliciously complicated."

What if you've known the love of your life since he was six years old and happens to be your little brother's best friend? But the man whom Callie runs into in the middle of the desert in Morocco isn't the little Brandon Rossi she once knew. He is a work of art.

Brandon Rossi is the boy-next-door in a rock star package. As the front man of the rock band Canis Major, a visual artist, and an avid stargazer, he expresses his thoughts and feelings through his music, arts, and tattoos. When he hits an invisible wall that hinders his ability to create, he starts on a quest to find inspiration. Who knew Brandon's ultimate inspiration comes in the form of an unconventional beauty with golden eyes? He did. He always knew because she was the one who got away.

Calliope Chen-Bisset is a hard-working Parisian art gallerist who has gone through many hurdles in life. She was once broken, but she has tried her best to put herself back together—piece by piece. She doesn't think she'll be whole again until a blast from the past reminds her of who she is. The years haven't dulled their connection. They've intensified it.

Brandon is willing to lay down everything for her, but will Calliope open up to him like she once did? Will she let a little fact that he is her little brother's best friend stop her? Or will it be her past that cast a shadow on their future?

This book has mature situations and some domestic violence themes, though without graphic depiction, which may be considered triggers for some. However, it is also a story of rising from the ashes stronger. Reader discretion is advised.

Excerpt

Brandon hurried into the main courtyard, brushing his damp hair back with his fingers for some semblance of order. A mosaic-tiled fountain stood at its center, surrounded by green plants, giving the courtyard an oasis vibe. On the other side of it, a woman stood talking to Chris.

Facing away from him, Brandon could see that she was of medium height, slender, and dressed in a breezy linen shirt in the color of young leaves paired with wide-legged cream pants. She wore her straight dark hair in a sleek chin-length bob. The woman looked well put together, yet casual and comfortable. It was a refreshing change from the usual head-to-toe black that gallery people usually favored.

As he approached them, the woman laughed at something Chris said. The melodic sound of her laughter froze Brandon and sent him suddenly through memories of innocent youth.

Hot summer days, band sessions in his parents’ garage, that familiar laugh filling the air, the fresh fragrance of citrus filling his randy teenage senses, sketches of a dark-haired girl with golden eyes scattered on the floor of his childhood bedroom, and heartache.

His heart ached inside his chest now as Brandon breathed out. “Calliope.”

The woman slowly turned to the sound of Brandon’s voice, or did the slow-motion effect only occur in his mind? Most likely, but the stunned look on her face was genuine.

Brandon was still in a daze as she stood before him. “Space Cadet Brandon Rossi.”

The childhood moniker snapped his brain back to the present. “Wow, haven’t heard that nickname for years.”

“And I still cringe every time someone calls me Calliope.”

Brandon studied the sophisticated woman staring back at him. She wasn’t the girl who had worn pigtails in grade school or carried a heavy backpack full of books in middle school, or even the girl who had juggled advanced classes with volleyball practices and games throughout high school. But he’d recognize that inviting laugh and those amazing eyes no matter how much she’d changed.

“It’s been a while, Callie.” Brandon moved to hug her but was shocked at how awkward he felt giving her the simple greeting. Their bodies touched just a moment, but the familiar citrus fragrance from his memory enveloped him and lingered even as they pulled apart.

“You know each other. What a small world.” Chris observed the interaction between his two guests with interest.

“We go way back.” Brandon couldn’t take his eyes off Callie. Like he’d said, it’d been a while. Too long.

“Brandon is a friend of my brother’s.” Callie turned a professional smile to Chris.

Brandon’s brows shot up at Callie’s explanation of their connection. It was true—Callie’s brother was one of his best friends and bandmates—but he and Callie had had their own history.

“Callie is Curtis’ sister,” Brandon explained “We’ve known each other since Curtis and I were six years old and she was seven.”

“Seven and a half,” Callie corrected.

Chris studied Callie’s face with new recognition. “I didn’t know Curtis had a sister. I see it now. I should’ve put it together when I saw your last name—Chen-Bisset. Curtis Bisset.

“Chen-Bisset?” Brandon questioned the new hyphenated last name.

“I added my family’s Chinese surname that my mother tried hard to forget.”

“Right,” Brandon remembered. “It suits you.”

Callie smiled but was quick to change the subject. “How do you know each other?”

“Long story, but basically mutual good friends,” Brandon answered.

Chris checked his watch. “Why don’t we get on with business now and swap stories over dinner later? I hope you don’t mind Brandon joining us for the meeting. I’d like to have his perspective as an artist.”

“Of course.” Callie nodded and walked with Chris to where she’d left her things.

Still rooted to where he stood, Brandon followed Callie with his eyes. He’d expected to experience all kinds of surprises on this trip. A blast from the past in the form of Calliope Chen-Bisset wasn’t one of them. One would think fifteen years would dull Callie’s effect on him, but apparently not. Judging from how his blood rushed through his body at double time, his adolescent self had reemerged after seeing the woman Callie had become.

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Unexpected Entanglement - Book 3

From the series readers are calling, "Hot, steamy, and deliciously complicated."

When a simple favor turns into an unexpected entanglement.

Rowan Kelly has one goal for the next two weeks: throw the most beautiful wedding for her cousin. So what if the inn she inherited isn’t quite ready or staffed? She’s resourceful and scrappy enough to make it happen all by herself. She doesn’t need some nosy, charming stranger with smiles that both irritate her and make her woman’s bits tingle to swoop in to save the day.

World-renowned hotelier Chris Sullens only planned on spending twenty-four hours in Vinalhaven. So why the hell did he sacrifice his well earned vacation and offer to help the fiery gorgeous innkeeper plan a wedding instead? He tries to keep things professional, but his self-control has its limits, especially when he suddenly has to play the role of the stubborn woman’s doting fiance.

As strange occurrences threaten the wedding, the inn’s future, and Rowan’s safety, can they work together to keep things from blowing up in their faces? Or will their unbridled passion entangle them into something more than they bargained for?

Excerpt

Chris sat on one of the few seats in the small coffee shop he’d seen earlier. He’d walked the entire rows of businesses on Vinalhaven’s little down town, gone into every store, checked the menu of every food establishment.

He sipped his coffee and nodded his approval. He loved his cup of joe dark with a full body, and the girl behind the counter served him a potent brew.

Chris checked his emails on his phone. He was supposedly on vacation, but he always had difficulty disconnecting. After working to establish three resorts in five years, he could use the rest. Maybe he’d stay a day or two longer to relax. He’s got a feeling there was more to Vinalhaven than what he’d seen.

He looked up from his phone when the door to the coffee shop opened. Two women walked in having a discussion. The contrast between the two ladies caught his interest.

The taller one was dressed in a white shirt tucked into a pair of loose blue jeans that looked more comfortable than fashionable. Her braided black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes indicated she was of Asian descent. She listened to the more petite one in cutoff jean shorts and a rust-colored T-shirt that flaunted her curves, with her hair wound and tucked under a trucker’s hat. The cap’s bill shadowed her eyes.

He overheard the tall one say, “I have a couple of new recruits I’ve been training. They’re new to the island—starting over, you can say.”

“Are they trustworthy?” Petite asked with a slight frown.

Chris’ ears perked at the rich alto timbre coming out of Petite. Not what he expected at all.

“They’ve been vetted.”

“All right.” Petite shrugged. “I’ll see you at Bright Head at nine, then?”

“I’ll be there.” The other lady smiled. “Can I buy you coffee before you go?”

“Thanks, maybe another time. I have to pick up the chefs at the ferry and then head back.” Petite winked and flashed a toothy grin. “Until tomorrow.”

Did the sexy-voiced-petite say Bright Head?

Before Chris could gather his cup and stand, the petite woman had already disappeared out the door. He rushed out and spotted her walking around the red truck he’d seen earlier.

“Excuse me, miss,” Chris called out as he approached.

The woman stopped, turned her head toward his direction, then looked up at his face as he smiled at her. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you work at the Bright Head Farm & Inn at Long Cove?” Chris asked.”

Her gaze behind her sunglasses went slowly to the truck’s door as if saying duh. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m heading up there to see the owners.” Chris turned up the wattage in his smile to look as harmless as possible. “I was wondering if you could give me—”

Her eyes narrowed as she cut him off, “Do you have an appointment? I wasn’t informed to pick up anyone besides our chefs from the ferry.”

“I want to surprise them,” Chris casually answered. He bluffed his way through conversations with or about people he should’ve “known” all the time.

“How are they, anyhow? Rowan and Kieran?” Dropping first names always helped gain trust.

She finally smiled. “Oh, you’re a friend of the Kellys?”

“Uh…” Chris didn’t want to lie outright, so he just shrugged while maintaining an amiable expression.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name again?” she asked.

“Chris.”

“I tell you what, Chris,” she said as she retreated. “I won’t spoil your surprise, but unfortunately, I can’t give you a ride. Not enough room in the cab, you see. Two people are waiting for me at the ferry terminal with their luggage. You understand?”

“I wasn’t—”

“A shuttle from the hotel down the street runs past us.” She didn’t listen to his answer as she walked to the driver’s side door. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to drop you off.”

“Don’t you have a shuttle for your guests?” Chris questioned, a little miffed by her brusque dismissal. But he might as well try to get some information.

“Currently, I’m all there is,” she flashed him a cheeky grin. “I’m sorry, I can’t accommodate you unless you’d be willing to ride on the…”

She gestured to the bed of her truck, which was already filled with cans of paint and what looked like maintenance supplies.

“It won’t be comfortable, though.” She added, “Can I suggest a bicycle? It’s a great day for it.”

“I have a bike,” Chris answered. “But—”

“Perfect! I’m sorry, but I have to go.” She opened her door. “Maybe I’ll see you up there later?”

She hopped behind the steering wheel and started the truck.

“Count on it.” Chris stepped onto the curb by the passenger door and watched her check her side mirror.

The leggy Asian woman from earlier suddenly came running to her friend in the truck. “I forgot to tell you I’ll have to print out a new contract. I’ll bring it with me in the morning.

“Great,” Petite replied.

“All right. See you tomorrow, Rowan.” Legs waved as she walked away.

Rowan.

Chris’ rounded eyes flew to Petite’s face. She grinned and pulled out of the parking spot, leaving him standing at the curb like a deer caught in a headlights.

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About the Author 

C. R. Alam loves to write heartfelt and steamy love stories with strong yet vulnerable characters readers would root for. There hasn't been a main character she's written about whom she didn't fall in love with despite their shortcomings. She'll laugh with her characters, cry along with them, then laugh again in the end. When she's not reading or writing, you'll most likely find her in the kitchen, cooking, baking, or eating while wearing her trusted Birks, sweatpants, and "I'm emotionally attached to fictional characters" T-shirt. After a whirlwind decade of living abroad, C. R. now lives in Durham, NC, with her husband, daughter, and cat. 

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Spotlight: Still Sky by Skylar Nightingale

Publication date: June 20th 2023

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Sky Hartman is enduring another conversation with her mom about her nonexistent love life when she slams into sexy business mogul Mateo Jacobson with a hot cup of coffee in her hand.

Despite their messy meeting, Sky is quickly swept up in his charismatic charm. Her best friend warns her of his notorious playboy ways, but after a few warm and cozy nights by the fire, Sky realizes she’s falling for him.

Until his womanizing ways leave her heart shattered.

When Mateo’s best friend, Cade, swoops in to console her, Sky questions his intentions. Although it makes her uneasy to learn his true feelings for her, she wonders if his sweet, romantic nature is what she needs.

But when Mateo is attacked and left for dead, Sky volunteers to help nurse him back to health. Faced, once more, with the selfless and tender ways of the suave casanova, will Sky risk heartbreak again by choosing Mateo? Or will Cade’s kindness and laughter provide her with the happily ever after she hopes for?

Excerpt

Sky

My eyes roamed around the room, but there was silence. Then arms encircled my waist, pulling me close, causing my breath to hitch. Mateo was still here. I wasn't sure if he should stay, considering we both had to get up for work in a few hours. But as I lay there comforted in his arms, I decided I'd rest my eyes, waking in a few minutes.

As I awakened to sunlight seeping through the windows, I rubbed my eyes. Mateo opened his eyes with a lopsided grin, propping his head on his hand. "Morning, Sky."

"Morning." My voice croaked.

His fingers grazed my face, slightly tickling my skin. As he gave a piercing stare, I licked my lips.

Mateo moaned. I wasn't trying to seduce him but...

He lowered his head, swiftly crashing his lips onto mine. Our mouths parted, connecting inside--dancing and swirling together. Seduction at its finest. If I had wings, I would fly. Shivering sensations rippled up my spine. My hands slid under his shirt, and I writhed beneath him. He dragged two fingers down my neck. Oh, wow. How can two fingers feel so good? I moaned into his mouth and clutched his taut back. Our bodies pressed together, fitting perfectly like pieces to a puzzle. The grinding entanglement caused so much friction I think I saw smoke. I needed to collect my thoughts before it went too far. His mouth traveled down my neck.

"Teo," I whispered.

"Sky," he exhaled my name.

Heat dissipated from my skin as he said my name against it. I relaxed my body, rubbing the back of his head.

He stopped electrifying my body, putting his hands on either side of my face as his eyes filled with desperation and desire. "You're so beautiful."

I beamed inside and out.

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About the Author

Skylar Nightingale has always had a vast imagination, inventing characters that could either break your heart or have you standing in awe. When she isn't writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, and listening to music. She grew up in Upstate New York. She now resides in a small town with her loving family, where her love of creating characters and stories envelop her thoughts, allowing her to continue in her writing journey. 

Connect with Skylar: 
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/skylarnightingale01/
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Spotlight: Lucky Shot by Shanna Hatfield

Publication date: June 20th 2023

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Western

Synopsis:

What’s a girl to do when her aim is true?

As a registered nurse at the Boise VA Hospital, Grace Marshall is devoted to her patients, but some wounds require more than medical care. A patient too stubborn and angry to accept the help he needs storms out of her exam room, ruffling her feathers. Yet, when the man returns to apologize, something about him tugs at her heart.

Levi Gibson left for war young and idealistic but returned from Vietnam with physical scars and a haunted soul. He tries to banish the darkness brewing inside him with hard work on his family’s potato farm, but it’s a young nurse’s kindness that brings unexpected light and joy into his life. If Levi can open up to Grace and let her see his pain, could she be the key that unlocks a future full of hope instead of mere survival?

After her father sends Grace a legendary pistol, target practice provides an excuse to spend time with Levi during the summer of 1972. As his shadows overwhelm him, it will take far more than a lucky shot for Grace to hit love’s mark.

Excerpt

She straightened in time to see Levi sprinting through the rain with a vase of flowers.

His cowboy hat had kept his head dry, but Grace was sure she could wring water out of his shirt when he stepped inside. A vision of him shirtless made warmth sear her cheeks as he walked over to her and held out the vase.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

She stared at the vase brimming with fragrant lilacs, white tulips, and pink peonies. The arrangement was stunning, but she had no idea why he’d bring it to her.

Hesitantly, she reached out for the vase. “What’s this?”

“An apology,” he said, removing his hat as she took the vase from him.

She held the vase against her mid-section, longing to bury her nose in the divine lilacs. She’d always loved the scent of them when they bloomed in the spring. On their dairy farm, they had several old bushes that bloomed along the back fence. She’d missed them since she’d moved to Boise. The only chance she got to smell flowers now was while walking in the park, or when one of her fellow nurses received them as a gift.

“An apology?” she asked, giving the cute cowboy a curious glance.

“For Friday. I was rude, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything you did,” he admitted, appearing both nervous and repentant.

She ignored the way he’d shoved his left hand into the front pocket of his jeans to hide his injury. His right hand clenched his hat, as though he was anxious. Uncertain.

“Do you really think I’m too young, incompetent, and impertinent to be a nurse?” she asked, keeping her expression unreadable, but she shifted her posture, cocking one hip defiantly.

A slow grin spread across his face as he watched her, appearing to keenly observe her every move. His head shook from side to side. “No, ma’am. I think you are more than qualified to do your job, and you were not impertinent. I’m truly sorry for the way I behaved when I was here. The way I acted was unnecessary and unkind, and it bugged me all weekend that I’d been that way with you. Truly, I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Grace said, grinning at him and surrendering to her need to sniff the blooms. She closed her eyes to better savor the fragrance, then opened them to find Levi watching her. “I love lilacs.”

His grin broadened. “We have a bunch of them at the farm just starting to bloom. The tulips were on the north side of the house, or they’d likely be gone for the season.”

“It’s a magnificent bouquet. Do you need the vase back?” she asked.

“No. Ma has dozens of them. She gets the credit for arranging the flowers, though. She said to tell you that she did a better job of raising me than you might have previously considered and to please not hold my behavior against her.”

“I did have a few thoughts about that this weekend.” Grace smiled and hugged the vase a little tighter. “I do thank you, Sergeant Gibson, for these lovely blooms, but I should get to work.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you. I just wanted to apologize and ask for your forgiveness.”

“You are forgiven.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking a step back toward the door.

Grace had never, not once in her life, considered asking a guy on a date, but a sense of panic welled in her at the thought of not seeing Levi again soon.

The words spilled out of her, leaving her unable to stuff them back into her mouth. “Are you busy next Saturday?” she heard herself ask.

Levi appeared as shocked by the question as Grace felt.

“No. Not really. Did you have something in mind?”

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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Spotlight: Fighting Fate by Diana Muñoz Stewart

(A Spy Makers Guild Novella)

Publication date: June 20th 2023

Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Synopsis:

Risking herself to rescue others. No problem. Risking her heart on love? Problem.

Dada

As a Guild operative, I’ve seamlessly taken on dozens of false identities. Going undercover as a nun? No problem. But when my routine mission turns into a hunt for a vicious serial killer, I’m forced to join forces with Sion Bradford. Problem. The sexy, ex-soccer player doesn’t, for one minute, believe I’m a nun. Too many lives are at stake to tell him the truth. So, why am I struggling to keep the faith?

Sean

Learned a lot since leaving sports to go chase down degenerates. Mostly, how to spot a liar. Not that I need that skill when it comes to Dada. The woman’s every shade of hot, knows self-defense, and is a great kisser. Plainly, she’s rubbish at being a nun. Still, joining forces with her to take a killer off the streets is a no-brainer. I’d risk Hell itself to stop this lunatic and keep her safe.

As things heat up between Sean and Dada, their search for a serial killer turns into a deadly cat and mouse game. With time running out, they come face-to-face with the truth about each other and an unexpected and vicious murderer.

Excerpt

Searching Sean’s apartment has given me a wealth of insights into the man. Not only is he doing his own undercover work, but he’s also helping people in need…and painting.

I stop by an etching of a nude figure and nearly swallow my tongue. How? He’s never seen me in anything other than this drab tunic. Still…Without touching, I run my fingers above the edges of a body he’s gotten exactly right. My body.

Swallowing my rising heart, I imagine his hand holding the pencil, imagine him tracing lines, mentally stroking my body.

“Sister?”

“Ay!” Startled I swing around. To my horror, I find Sean squatting on the fire escape, staring at me through the window, his mouth set in a firm, disappointed line.

I bring a hand to my chest, mostly to buy time. “Dios. You scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry about that, Sister.” With alarming dexterity, he climbs in through the window. “Don’t usually have guests break into my flat. Not sure of the protocols.”

Hard to miss his sarcasm. “I didn’t break in. The apartment was unlocked...”

He’s shaking his head in outright disbelief. It’s not hard to figure out why. The apartment couldn’t have been left open if he’d gone out through the fire escape.

I turn back to the door and scan until I spot it. There’s a small, nearly invisible device at the foot of the door. It must’ve registered me entering. I missed it, not only because it is so very tiny, but because it’s very high-tech. I’ve underestimated this man.

I spin back around, smiling. “I need your help.”

Auburn hair a windy mess, brown eyes smoldering, he swallows the distance between us with his sexy swaggering gate. “You broke into my flat because you need my help?”

I’m scrambling. My brain is scrambling. My heart is scrambling. He stops feet from me. I have to crane my neck, which is rare and uncomfortable.

My height has always allowed me to look men in the eyes or look down on them. Not having that advantage is supremely disconcerting. Also, he’s a lot of muscle. The heat of him rolls forward like lava, enveloping my senses.

“Want to try the truth, luv?”

Luv? Not even Sister or Dee. I switch tactics. What man doesn’t like to have his ego stroked? Plus, I’d be a fool if I pretended I hadn’t noticed the way he looks at me. The way he’s looking at me right now.

“Help might be the wrong word.” I make a point of running my tongue along my lips. His eyes follow the movement. “I felt a strong need to be near you. With you.”

Feminists everywhere are cringing at me using my sexuality to get out of the fact that I was spying on him and, internally, so am I. Well, a little. He is so very hot.

“Really,” he smirks, both interested and not buying it even a little. He leans closer. “Is that how you intend to play this?”

He obviously requires proof of my sincerity. Not giving myself a chance to second guess, I fist his T-shirt, tiptoe, and place my lips on his soft, firm mouth.

For a breathless moment, he freezes. My tongues plays along the seam of his mouth.

With a moan, he relents.

Eager and hungry, I let go of all the tension of playing at being someone I’m not and let myself feel, really feel, the intense attraction I have to this man.

Heat and naked desire rake painfully through every cell in my body as we grab at each other, tongues intertwining, bodies screaming for more.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

#1 Amazon bestselling author. 

Armed with a razor-sharp wit and a rolled-up MFA in Creative Writing, Diana Muñoz Stewart cartwheel-kicked her way into publishing with her fiery Black Ops Confidential series. Washington Independent Review of Books called the series’ award-winning debut, “original, impressive” a “rollicking good ride” and “high-octane.”

Of her writing Publishers Weekly declared, “Stewart plays adeptly with the reader’s emotions” and noted that in her series, “Stewart’s talent shines.”

Of her unflinching openness in taking on today’s relevant topics, Booklist said, “Munoz-Stewart discusses such sensitive topics as human trafficking, sexual violence, and sexism…while the diverse …Parish family and their mission to protect women everywhere give these topics…hope…” 

Kirkus Book Reviews said her romantic suspense series, along with having, “Sizzling physical encounters” also “enables an emphasis on recovery and power.”

Munoz Stewart’s work has been a BookPage Top 15 Romance of 2018, a Night Owl Top Pick, A BookPage Top Pick, and an Amazon Book of the Month. A 2014 Pages From The Heart Winner, 2015 Golden Heart® Finalist, 2016 Daphne du Maurier Finalist, and a 2016 Gateway to the Best Winner, Diana Munoz Stewart is a member of Romance Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, and Sisters in Crime. 

Diana lives in an often chaotic and always welcoming home that—depending on the day—can hold husband, kids, extended family, friends, and a canine or two. A believer in the power of words to heal, connect, and distract from chores, Diana blogs regularly on topics near and dear to her heart, including spotlight pieces on strong women from around the world. When not writing, Diana can be found kayaking, doing sprints up her long driveway—harder than it sounds–attempting yoga on her deck, or hiking with the man who’s had her heart since they were teens.

Diana is represented by the wonderful Michelle Grajkowski of Three Seas Literary Agency.

Connect:

https://dianamunozstewart.com/

https://www.facebook.com/DMSwrites/

https://twitter.com/dmunozstewart

https://www.instagram.com/dianamunozstewart/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17352345.Diana_Mu_oz_Stewart

Spotlight: Above the Fold by Corrina Lawson

Published by: City Owl Press

Publication date: June 20th 2023

Genres: Adult, Mystery, Romance

Synopsis:

In 1980s New York City, a crime reporter with little to lose risks the only thing that matters to uncover the truth....

Trisha Connell’s journalism reflects her punk rock lifestyle: relentless, confrontational, and bitingly honest. It’s a style that scores front-page headlines but has her forever teetering on the verge of victory or disaster. Now one crime will forever change Trisha’s life.

As she charges into the story of a sensational theft at an art museum, she discovers a murdered guard is someone she knew, a former foster kid who was adopted and supposed to be living a good life. To make it worse, the guard is suspected to be one of the thieves.

Determined to uncover the truth, Trisha bulls her way into the story, risking her life and career on what could be the story of the decade, if her editor doesn’t fire her first. She finds an ally in Edmund Grayson, a security expert assigned to the museum, who’s driven by his own guilt in failing to stop the murder.

Chasing the story will take Trisha from the punk clubs to the high society to the inner workings of newspapers of New York in the 1980s. It will take all her street skills to survive.

Excerpt

Opening Chapter:

TRISHA STAGGERED to her motorcycle just as hangover dizziness hit full force. She dropped to one knee on the slimy blacktop of the narrow alley, clutching the soft leather of the bike’s seat for balance. A deep breath brought a whiff of urine and wet rats into her nostrils.

The rising sun peeked over the far corner of the four-story brick monstrosity that held the punk club where she’d spent the night.

Best time to see the sunrise, when I’m ready for bed.

But the beeper in her jacket pocket vibrated. Her fingers fumbled over a wad of tissues, breath mints, quarters, and subway tokens before she finally clutched the beeper.

Her editor’s number stared at her from the display.

Damn. Phone. Now. Back inside.

As she turned, the sunlight caught the tank of her restored Indian

Chief, making the bike’s Indian head logo seem like it was mocking her. Her sunglasses cut the morning glare enough for her to stumble past the dumpster to the back door of the club from which she’d come. She slapped her hand against the bricks for balance, inadvertently placing her palm right in the middle of the “beware” in the “Beware Out-of-Towners”

message spray-painted on the wall.

She pushed past through the creaky, crooked door into the club, where the smell of smoke washed over her. The darkness, such a contrast to the dawn, nearly blinded her. Oh, right. Sunglasses off.

“Dick!’ she called.

“Jesus, Red, you don’t have to shout,” Dick answered from his post behind the bar. “Thought you’d gone. I’m just about to clear out the refuse.”

Trisha’s eyes adjusted to the light, seeing several people passed out on stage. They’d be in for a rude awakening. Dick wasn’t gentle, she knew by experience.

She made the universal gesture for a phone. “Need to make a call. Now.” She held up her beeper.

“Aren’t we important this morning.” But Dick slammed the club’s phone on top of the bar.

“Hell, yeah, I’m important. The paper can’t run without me,” she shot back, sliding onto the stool. She could ask for water, but who knew what was swimming in it. “How about a Coke?”

Dick rolled up his shirtsleeves, dug into the ice, and tossed her the can he’d found. She caught it with one hand. Jolt. Perfect.

“Nice reflexes after all that tequila,” Dick said.

“Thanks.” She searched her back pants pocket and dropped a five on the bar. It stuck to something. Not her problem. Let Dick peel it off.

She cursed as it took forever to dial the old rotary phone.

“Connell,” she announced as someone picked up.

“Trisha, sorry for taking up your day off—”

City Desk Editor Joe Wilson sounded crisp and businesslike and not the

least bit sorry. An alcohol-induced migraine, centered just above her left eye, made it hard to focus on his words.

“—but I need you to get to City Hall in the next hour, to cover a press conference about the new zoning regulations.”

“Zoning regulations?” It sounded worse when she repeated it. “Joe, I’m a crime reporter. Why am I covering zoning regulations? Put a stringer on it.”

“Cardoza wants it covered, which means a stringer won’t do, and Tony’s in court all day. We need someone who can write something catchy, not boring, about this.”

“Hell.” Cardoza, the publisher of the New York Herald. Joe’s boss.

Trisha cradled the phone in her ear and pulled out the little notebook and pencil she kept in the inside pocket of the black leather jacket. “Exact time. Which room at City Hall. Anything else you got.”

Joe rattled off the information, adding the names of the deputy mayor holding the press conference. Behind her, she heard Dick hauling the remnants of his customers to their feet.

“Got it,” she said. “Anything else?”

“Be aware of any undercurrents. Word is that this is just a money grab by developer friend of the deputy mayor. The rest of the reporters will ask polite questions. You won’t.”

A chance to harass a deputy mayor at City Hall? The assignment was looking up. Some water and aspirin, and she’d be able to focus.

“Oh, and be presentable, Trish. Cardoza is watching this story. He’ll hear if you roll up to the press conference looking like a punk.”

“He wants me to wear a dress, he can buy me a damn car. He wants me to get there on time, I need to use the Indian.”

“Look half-businesslike, at least. Don’t show up looking like one of the Ramones.”

“The Slits are the female punk band.” Trisha took inventory of her clothes. The blue jeans, faded T-shirt, leather jacket, and motorcycle boots weren’t even half-businesslike. Not to mention the smell from the whiskey someone had spilled on her.

Dammit, this was supposed to be her day off.

“Sure. No problem.”

“Every time you say that, there’s a problem. You’re not home, are you?”

A long pause followed, broken by one of Joe’s familiar long-suffering ‘what-the-hell-are-you-doing-with-your-life’ sighs. “Trisha, have you even been to bed?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“You know I’ve got no choice on this.”

That was as close as Joe would get to an apology for putting her in a

tough spot, “I know,” she said. “I’ll be there and get what you need.”

She hung up, fished a couple aspirin out of her inside pocket, brushed off the lint, and washed them down with the Jolt. She pulled out the Celtic cross she wore around her neck and kissed it, wondering how the hell she’d get presentable in an hour. She’d never make it to Midtown, then crosstown to her place in Hell’s Kitchen, and back to City Hall in time for the press conference.

She chugged the rest of the Jolt and dialed another number.

“Hey! Time’s up,” Dick called.

“Just a sec,” she called, putting her back to him. Dick might have

grabbed the phone out of her hand, but the kid stumbling out the front door threw up, drawing his attention.

David, be home, she thought. She was only five blocks from David’s place near the Village.

He answered. Score.

“Hey, I need a favor. I—”

“Hey, Trish, not in position for favors today.”

He shouted in Spanish. A horn sounded. Not his apartment. The call

must have been forwarded to his car phone.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Ah, the damned museum exhibit. It’s been a pain in the ass since day

one. Now there’s some minor deal about the alarm and Grayson’s being fussy about it, so I got dragged out of bed to check it out.”

“You sure everything’s okay?”

Dick slopped a mop at the mess on the floor. She figured she had sixty seconds before he cut off her call.

“It’s fine. Like I said, it’s probably Grayson overreacting.” David shouted again at the other drivers, this time in English. “Look, Trish, what did you want, anyway?”

“I need to get a change of clothes from your place. Is the coast clear?” David’s fiancée wasn’t her biggest fan.

The sound of squealing tires echoed in the background. “Yep, Darlene’s at her mother’s place this week, studying. Take whatever you need,” he said.

“Thanks. Be careful out there, okay?”

“Always am, unlike you,” he said. “Wait, Trish, you’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Not yet. But it’s early.”

“You be careful then, too. Later.”

She hung up, yelled thanks to Dick, received a grumble in response,

and slipped out the back door again.

This could work. If her memory served, David had a blazer she could borrow that would be suitable over one of his T-shirts. Not strictly businesslike but, hey, Miami Vice style jackets with T-shirts were all the rage now. She might even have time for a shower there.

Waitaminute.

She hadn’t concentrated on what David said because she’d been worried about her own problems. But he’d said his boss rousted him out of bed to answer a possible alarm at the museum. David’s security firm had installed a sophisticated system to protect a high-profile art exhibit at the Museum of Historic Arts. Several anonymous threats had been made against that exhibit, which contained artwork once lost in World War II. (Presumably, the museum had bought the art from Nazis or their heirs.)

An alarm might mean a break-in and that would equal a big story, espe- cially given the Nazi connection. A story that would beat the hell out of some press conference about mind-numbing zoning regulations, even if the developers were paying off the deputy mayor.

Political corruption equaled business as usual.

Nazis and a museum art theft on the other hand? That was a juicy story. An above-the-fold headline story.

Option one: take the sure thing, file the required story, and get in good with Cardoza.

Option Two: Disobey a direct order on a hunch that, if it fizzled, would get her fired.

Her hand hovered over the scars carved into her midsection. Following the rules had never gained her a damn thing. She jerked the gloves out of her jacket and shoved her hands into them, using her boot heel to push the kickstand up.

A bald guy dressed in skinny black jeans and the remains of a T-shirt stumbled into the alley. His eyes widened.

“Well, hey, sweetheart,” he drawled. “You are a damn fine sight this morning.”

Skinhead. Thrash metal dude. The club had been full of them last night, even though the band had been pure three-cord punk. But hardcore fought to replace it. Gah. Another great scene lost.

“Buzz off,” she said.

He stumbled closer, aiming to cut her off. “Aw, c’mon, I saw you in there, redhead, fooling around. Give us a kiss to celebrate the morning.”

With a flick of her wrist, the switchblade appeared in her hand. Another flick, and the blade opened. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

“Shit.” He scrambled backwards. “Jesus, bitch,” he said as he vanished around the corner.

Bitch is right, she thought, as she closed the switchblade and dumped it back into a pocket.

The Indian roared to life, echoing in the alley. Trisha burned rubber as she turned and accelerated onto the street.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Corrina is a writer, mom, geek and occasional superhero. She's a former newspaper reporter with a degree in journalism from Boston University, she works from home writing romance novels with a geeky twist and as the Content Director of GeekMom.com.

Her novels include The Curse of the Brimstone Contract, a romantic steampunk mystery; the award-winning and USA Today-recognized superhero romance series, the Phoenix Institute, which includes: Phoenix Rising, Luminous, Phoenix Legacy, Ghost Phoenix, Ghosts of Christmas Past, and Phoenix Inheritance; and the erotic Freya's Gift, a tale of Vikings in North America and a fertility ritual.

Connect:

https://www.facebook.com/corrinalawsonwriter/

https://corrina-lawson.com/

https://twitter.com/CorrinaLawson

https://www.instagram.com/corrinalawson/