February 19, 2016

Sale Blitz, Exclusive Excerpt, Author Interview & Giveaway: Finding Gabriel by Rachel L. Demeter



Colonel Gabriel de Laurent departed for the war intending to die. After a decade of bloodstained battlegrounds while fighting in Napoleon’s army, Gabriel returns to the streets of Paris a shattered and haunted soul. Plagued by inner demons, he swallows the barrel of his flintlock pistol and pulls the trigger. But fate has a different plan. Ariah Larochelle is a survivor. Orphaned at twelve and victim to a devastating crime, she has learned to keep her back to walls and to trust no one. But when she finds a gravely injured soldier washed up on the River Seine, she’s moved by compassion. In spite of her reservations, she rescues him from the icy water and brings him into her home. Now scarred inside and out, Gabriel discovers a kindred spirit in Ariah—and feelings he imagined lost forever reawaken as he observes her strength in the face of adversity. But when Ariah’s own lethal secrets unfold, their new love is threatened by ancient ghosts. Can Gabriel and Ariah find hope in the wreckage of their pasts—or will the cycle of history repeat again? Perfect for fans of Gaelen Foley’s Lord of Ice and Judith James’s Broken Wing, Finding Gabriel features all the dark romance, searing passion, and historical intrigue of The Phantom of the Opera and Les Misérables. 

PURCHASE FOR ONLY 99¢!




Ariah stood beneath the immeasurable night sky as she admired the breathtaking view. She lost herself within the constellations, allowing those luxurious diamond strands to coil around her heart. Numberless stars reflected within the Seine’s glassy surface and set the water afire. Breathing deeply, Ariah reached out and folded her hands atop the stone balustrade. 

This is where she’d found him. Her heart picked up speed as memories of that fateful night invaded her mind and body. Down below, water lapped against the embankment and infused the atmosphere with a soothing lull. A flashback of Gabriel’s motionless form materialized within the shadows . . . and Ariah’s chest constricted as she relived his every kiss and touch. 

Then – 

A gentle pressure whispered against her back. Gabriel’s unique aroma filled her spirit while strong arms enfolded her from behind. Somehow, some way, she’d known he’d be here tonight. 

She sighed deeply and relaxed within his protective embrace. One hand lost itself in her curls and delicately sifted through the strands; the other applied subtle pressure to the base of her spine in a ghostlike caress. Breathless and at peace, she spiraled into a decadent trance. She drank in each sensation . . . the mesmerizing caress of his fingertips against her scalp, the wind’s crisp breath, the Seine’s haunting lamentations . . . 

Gabriel brushed away the swarm of curls, exposing her ear to the night, and breathed against the fine cartilage. This was the moment she’d feared for weeks – the moment of their parting. Then he sang to her – his voice rich, warm, and sultry, and all other thoughts fell away. 

“The gentle breath of winter sings, 

It cools my brow and furls my wings. 

And when the dusk at last descends, 

I shall keep my hope, steel my heart, for never will thy love depart. 

Now you are come all my grief is gone, 

Let us forget those nights that never dawned.” 

The rich cadence of his voice seduced her into calmness. Fighting to hold back tears, she rotated in his arms, never once leaving the security of his embrace. Indeed, she’d stay with him until the very end – and they wouldn’t part a moment sooner. She tilted her chin up and met his expressive gaze. The nearby oil lamp shone brightly behind Gabriel, silhouetting his strained features. She directed his body to the side, needing to see his eyes, directing the shadows from his face. 

“You remember.”Gabriel shook his head while a riot of emotions crossed his features. “I shall never forget.” 






Today I’m very lucky to be interviewing Rachel L. Demeter, author of Finding Gabriel. 

Rachel, welcome on Mikky’s World Of Books. 

-Tell us a little bit about yourself. 

Thank you for having me on your lovely blog, Mikky! I live in beautiful Sunny California with Teddy, my goofy Polish lowland sheepdog, and my high school sweetheart of thirteen years. Richard and I began dating during our freshman year and have been together ever since – and he recently popped the big question! He’s truly my soul mate and greatest inspiration. I’m so grateful to have found him at such a young age! 

I graduated from Chapman University’s film school with a BA in Screenwriting. Even though I’m primarily a novelist, film school deepened my love for crafting fiction tenfold; it taught me to concentrate on plotting, dynamic characters, and effective pacing, as well as the importance of visual storytelling. I wouldn’t trade my college education for anything in the world! 

Aside from writing like a madwoman, my interests and pastimes include researching history (especially nineteenth century France and the Middle Ages), reading, singing, cooking, health and fitness, playing the violin, videogames (I’m truly a bit of a nerd at heart), philosophy, and animals. 

-What is your story, how did it all start? Was writing something you always wanted to do? 

Absolutely. Writing is my life’s blood, my passion, and my greatest obsession. It has always been and always will be. I’ve actually been a writer before I physically learned to write. As a child, one of my favorite pastimes was imagining stories and characters while my mom would record them for me, Now, at the age of twenty-seven, my passion for creating dynamic worlds is stronger than ever before. 

Honestly, I could be nothing else but a writer. 

-Do you have a favorite author or authors? 

Oh yes! I have countless favorite authors, and I love discovering new voices every day. To name a few: Gaelen Foley, Stephen King, Diana Gabaldon, Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, Lisa Kleypas, George R. R. Martin, Amy Harmon, J.K. Rowling . . . the list goes on and on. I definitely draw inspiration from these authors and am influenced by their ability to balance emotion, character, world building, and plot in a powerfully effective way. 

-Where did you get the inspiration for Finding Gabriel? 

My lifelong love for tortured heroes/heroines, dark romances, and nineteenth century France. And Finding Gabriel truly embodies my passion for all three. 

I had yearned to create a pair of imperfect, emotionally and physically scarred protagonists whose deep affection for each other could triumph over seemingly impossible odds. And Colonel Gabriel de Laurent is very much a haunted soul. His twisted past has hardened his heart and driven him to the brink of desperation. Ariah’s gentle nature and ability to persevere presents the ideal counterpoint to his darkness. Though, like Gabriel, she also suffers from a tragic past. 

Nineteenth century France has always been a great passion of mine. It was a time of conflict, political intrigue, art, clashing social norms, and romance. While England’s glittering ballrooms present an elaborate atmosphere, I personally feel these settings can become a bit stuffy and repetitive for readers. In my opinion, Paris lends itself to a darker, freer, more liberating and passionate environment. The characters aren’t as tied down by social norms, and the settings are more rustic and real. Also, I was raised on Paris-set musicals, such as Les Misérables and The Phantom of the Opera—and they continue to inspire my imagination and characters. 

Writing Finding Gabriel was a deeply personal experience and a true emotional rollercoaster. At times, the subject matter forced me into uncomfortable and often brutal territories–and the road to Gabriel and Ariah’s Happily Ever After is certainly paved with an abundance of loss, discovery, hope, and, of course, searing passion and relentless love. 

Every word emerged straight from my soul; I was connected to both Gabriel and Ariah on such a profound level . . . more than I ever imagined possible. When I typed “The End,” I broke into tears. They were no longer characters, but real people and beloved friends. 

I hope that Gabriel and Ariah's journey through darkness touches your heart as much as it did my own. 

-What is the most difficult part of writing to you? 

I’m going to cheat a list a few: 

~Sticking to a strict routine (for me, this is hitting a minimum word count each day), despite not “feeling it” or experiencing a lack of inspiration. Writers write, regardless of the blocks – and I’ve learned that you really can’t wait around for inspiration to hit. 

~Getting the word out about my books and finding unique ways to connect with readers. And yet, every time I’m able to interact with one of my readers, it’s a truly beautiful and rewarding moments. It makes all the tireless hours of outlining, writing, and beating against the infamous writer’s block worthwhile. <3 

~Negative reviews and feedback. I’m a very sensitive gal. And yes, I do skim negative reviews with caution (just to see if there’s any helpful criticism). Sensitive + Edgy Writing Style = not an ideal mix! 

-Who was your favorite character to write in Finding Gabriel? Why? 

Can I cheat again and say both the hero and heroine? Gabriel was an absolute thrill to write, since his characterization contains so much sexy darkness and transient light all wrapped up in one rugged package. 

But Ariah is also multilayered, and was fascinating to bring to life. Many facets of her character were inspired by my mom (who is my personal heroine). She’s the strongest, most loyal, compassionate, independent, and sincere person I know–and I worked hard to incorporate these traits into Ariah’s persona. Like Ariah, she always protects the ones she loves at all costs and is willing to sacrifice everything for her family and what she believes is right. 

-Any advice for all the aspiring authors out there? 

Write because you need to, because it’s your passion and calling. Forget money and fame – a true writer writes even if her stories would never be published. She writes because she can’t not write. 

Further down the road, teach yourself to regard writing as both a passion and a business endeavor. 

Always write what’s in your heart and nothing less. Don’t chase “the flavor of the month” – not only may it be gone next month, you’re writing won’t be as genuine. 

And in the words of the great Stephen King:“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There's no way around these two things that I'm aware of, no shortcut.” 

So read and write every day–and stay inspired (whether it be through Pinterest, a motivational writing calendar, finding new locations to write in, etc.). 

Thank you so much for taking the time to answer our questions.

Read our review of Finding Gabriel HERE!! 


ALSO BY RACHEL L. DEMETER








Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of eleven years. She enjoys writing dark, poignant romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and explore the redeeming power of love. Imagining dynamic worlds and characters has been Rachel’s passion for longer than she can remember. Before learning how to read or write, she would dictate stories while her mother would record them for her. She holds a special affinity for the tortured hero and unconventional romances. Whether crafting the protagonist or antagonist, she ensures every character is given a soul. Rachel endeavors to defy conventions by blending elements of romance, suspense, and horror. Some themes her stories never stray too far from: forbidden romance, soul mates, the power of love to redeem, mend all wounds, and triumph over darkness. Her dream is to move readers and leave an emotional impact through her words. 





Book Promo: Out of Focus, Chosen Paths #2 by L.B. Simmons



“Shhhh, Cassandra, it’s our little secret.” 

Secrets are stubborn things when they refuse to remain hidden. They tear through your soul, clawing and lashing until the pain becomes so unbearable, you’re left no choice but to silently scream your agony. No one hears you, of course. You smile on the outside and drift through life as though your mind is at peace, but all the while, you remain your own tortured prisoner. Sealed inside the darkened, soundproof room of your conscience, deafening cries echo as you plead for someone to unlock the door and release you from your nightmares. And eventually, when no one comes, you find ways to cope. To dull the suffering the only way you know how. 

But what happens when you’ve become so numb, when everything around you has become so blurred, that you begin to lose focus on the saving grace standing directly in front of you? When you’ve anesthetized yourself to the point of losing consciousness, forced to watch as his once solid image fades away, lost to your reach in the haze as it smothers you? 

What do you do then? 

You fight. You heal. Then you bring him back. 

Well, my name is Cassie Cooper, and it’s time. 

No more secrets. 

This is my story. 

***WARNING - The subject matter of this novel centers around the psychological effects due to sexual abuse experienced during childhood. For this reason, as well as sexual situations, language, and adult themes, suggested reading age is 17+.***





Only twenty-three years old, and I’m so goddamn tired. 

I used to be so much stronger. I somehow kept the voices at bay, the memories locked away safely, contained within the confines of my mind. But with each passing day, I feel the glow of my once-luminous strength fading. Darkness encases me now, bowing the walls of protection I put into place years ago. My past is an ever-present nightmare, repeatedly tapping, slowly fracturing the window of my sanity. 

I have no doubt that it’s only a matter of time before the glass finally breaks. Blackness will eventually seep through its cracks and deliver me from the safety of my façade into a reality that will destroy me. 

My reality.

I’ve done my part. I’ve kept the secrets thrust upon me with dedicated believability. My portrayal of who I am has become a blurred, hazy version of the once very distinct Cassie Cooper. 

I read an ungodly amount of trashy romance novels.

I’m the overtly sexual and foul-mouthed friend who will say anything to get a laugh. 

And I have exactly zero fucks to give to what anyone else thinks about my actions. 

But the reality, the actuality, is this:

I read obsessively to escape my own world. To live the dreams of others when, for so long, the reoccurrence of my nightmares has been my reality. I read to fall in love and find a happily ever after, even if it is purely imagined. With each story I read, I’m able to live and love vicariously through the characters in my books. It’s the only plausible way for me to survive. 

I threw away my virginity at the age of thirteen just to prove something. And when I found that proof, that vindication I was looking for, I sought it every chance I could. Sex is about control for me. Nothing more. The act will never be about making love, like it is for the heroines in my books. I will never be granted the beauty of that gift. 

I use humor as a form of avoidance. I draw upon laughter to block the pain. And I smile to mask the agony of the eight-year-old soul who weeps within me. 

And the fucks . . . well, that’s not entirely accurate either. 

I have given two to be exact: One to my best friend of seventeen years. She knows nothing of my past, and although she so willingly disclosed the horrors of hers, mine remains hidden for no other reason than to avoid the pity she would undoubtedly cast my way if I were to ever tell her. I don’t want her pity. I would sooner die than have her look at me in any other way than with pride. 

The other died with the person to whom it was given. Anthony “Rat” Marchione. He was my one allowance of naïveté. The one person I actually wanted to touch me, to hold me, to love me. He was going to rescue me from my brokenness as though I were a character in one of my books. Young and senseless, I thought he was to be my eventual happily ever after, but tragically, he was murdered five years ago. 

Black coldness waits in vain to leech the void where his once beautiful existence filled the pieces of my irrevocably shattered heart. Where he temporarily healed the hurt of the innocent child and quieted the voices that tormented her. 

He’s gone now. I’ve accepted that. And in turn, I have relinquished all dreams associated with finding the light at the end of this miserable tunnel.

I will keep trudging through this life . . . this sentence handed to me for someone else’s crime, my payment shackled by secrets and weighted with lies. I will continue to do so with the same fraudulent smile on my lips and play the part of the strong heroine so convincingly, that even I believe it. 

It’s only a matter of time before my fictional strength wears out—when I’m no longer hidden safely inside my protective blur—and I have to face the very real and lucid image of my past. 

But until that time comes, I’ll do all I can do. 

All I have ever done.

I will pretend.



L.B. Simmons is a graduate of Texas A&M University and holds a degree in Biomedical Science. She has been a practicing Chemist for the last 11 years. She lives with her husband and three daughters in Texas and writes every chance she gets.


Excerpt & Giveaway: A Friendly Flirtation, Friends First #3 by Christine Warner


Allison Hall is fed up with being a social outcast. Even at the tech company where she works for her brother and his best friend, Jared, she's the invisible nerdy girl. What she needs is confidence—and that requires a makeover and dating tips. And she knows just the man to help…

Jared Esterly is shocked when Allison asks for his assistance and turns her down, knowing that her brother—his business partner and best friend, Nick—would kill him if he dated her, even if it is just for practice. But when Al’s attempt to make changes on her own fails spectacularly, Jared reluctantly steps in. Things heat up quickly, and soon lessons move from the salon to the bedroom.

When overprotective big-brother Nick discovers Jared is dating Allison, their friendship and business partnership sour. Allison, consumed by guilt, must make a choice: stay with Jared, even though that means ruining his friendship with Nick and possibly his career, or leave the one man who sets her on fire.







She leaned her forehead against his chin, then tilted her head back, parting her lips and inviting him in for another kiss. 

And he wanted seconds. More than he’d ever imagined. The soft blush creeping over her face, the way her breasts strained against her blouse as she tried to regain her breathing only encouraged him. Holy. Fuck. With her it’d be too easy to forget where the hell they were. And he didn’t like an audience. Not now. With Allison, not ever. 

But that didn’t stop him from running his thumb over her bottom lip. For a second he lost sense of where they were when her eyes grew dark and her lashes fluttered gently over her skin. She looked so beautiful, and that protective urge— or maybe he should just call it what is is…lust—overtook him. He couldn’t picture her with anyone but him. Fuck. He didn’t want her with anyone else. Screw Nick. He’d deal with him later.

If anyone would teach Allison how to please a man, let a real man do the job. 

Him. 

She was ready, so was he. He was willing, and so was she. And they were both adults. “Al, I don’t want you with any of these men.” 

She sighed, sagging against him. “Are we really going to have this conversation again? I—” 

He took her mouth in a hard kiss, parting the seam of her lips with his tongue and thrusting inside, swallowing her gasp. She melted against him. He slid his hands down her throat, past her shoulders, and lower still until he curved his arm around her back and squeezed her rear. She smiled into their kiss, and this time he melted. “Do I need to rephrase?” he whispered against her mouth. 

She shook her head, their mouths still touching. “I really only wanted one man in this room, but I didn’t think he wanted—” 

“You better be talking about me.” He leaned back just far enough so he could watch the way her emotions flickered across her eyes. Excitement. Uncertainty. Acceptance. She nodded, her lips parted and moist. 

“Are you telling me—?” 

“I’m telling you I’ve come to my senses. Or lost them completely.”



Christine Warner is living her dream in Michigan along with her family, three laptops (she might have a slight addiction, or maybe it’s a fear of one imploding from overuse) and a much loved assortment of furry friends.

Besides laughing and a good round of humor, she enjoys spending time with her family, cooking, reading, writing but no arithmetic. A confessed people watcher, she finds inspiration for her stories in everyday activities. She loves to read and write about strong heroes and determined, sometimes sassy heroines.

A girl gone wild, at least where social media is concerned, she enjoys meeting other avid readers and writers on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, and her website at christine-warner.com.


February 18, 2016

Excerpt ~ Giveaway ~ Red River, Pack #2 by Cardeno C.


Two Alpha shifters join together to lead their pack and build a family.

Commitment, loyalty, and strength aren’t enough to make Wesley Stone’s birth pack accept an Alpha with a physical imperfection, even if it’s a meaningless mark. Putting the safety of his pack above his own wellbeing, Wesley trades himself for another Alpha and agrees to mate with a stranger in a mysterious, insular pack. 

Alphas from Jobe Root’s family have led the Red River pack from the first day shifters walked the earth. Now the time has come for Jobe to fulfill his destiny, but to do that, he needs his mate by his side. Spiritual, easygoing Jobe reveres Mother Nature and trusts in fate, yet he can’t help being nervous about how his mate will react to his new life in Red River, his new life with Jobe. 

Two Alphas with contrasting personalities, different upbringings, and divergent beliefs come together for the good of their packs. But to stay together, Wesley and Jobe must see beyond the surface and embrace every facet of themselves and their union. 




“You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.”

Wesley Stone reached for the volume dial on the cracked dashboard and turned it to the right. Maybe if he could make the music loud enough, it’d drown out the voice in his head. 

“You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.” 


Time for what? There weren’t any other Alpha wolves in the Purple Sky pack, so everyone knew Wesley would eventually be leading them. What exactly were they waiting for? 

“You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.” 

Unfortunately, the sound in his head was louder than any rock song. He turned the knob again. He could concede that twenty-three was young to be a pack Alpha, but it wasn’t too young. And his uncle Paul was already sixty, well past the age when Alphas normally handed over the reins. It was time for him to transition leadership to Wesley. 

“You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.” 

He raised the volume and wished, not for the first time, that his old Civic had a better sound system. Wesley had spent three hours a day in that car during the four years he had driven back and forth to the nearest college. Getting a degree had been his uncle’s idea. He had said it would give Wesley extra credibility, but very few people in their small pack went to college, so they weren’t impressed with Wesley’s hard work and newfound knowledge about environmental engineering. 

“You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.” 

Memories piled up of those long days: waking up early, driving away from his pack and the woods into a concrete jungle, attending classes in huge buildings, holing up by himself in the musty library, and then driving home and falling into bed exhausted, only to do it all again the next day. And for what? If anything, the time away had put even more distance between him and the shifters he should be leading. 

“You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.” 

Once Wesley was truly their Alpha, they were certain to see his strength, his devotion, his skill in leading them, and they’d know the mark on his skin didn’t matter. Maybe then the pack would respect him. 

"You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.” 

Of course, for Wesley to be Alpha, his uncle would first have to step down. At six feet, one inch in height with a muscular one hundred eighty-five pound frame, Wesley had the advantage of size and youth over his uncle. If the man kept clinging to the position, Wesley could challenge him for it and he was bound to win. But at what cost? 

His uncle, though not as strong as he had been during his youth, was a good Alpha and he had always treated Wesley well. His mother would be horrified if he went against her beloved brother, and the pack was already wary of Wesley, so taking the position by force wasn’t likely to endear him to them. Winning in a challenge against his uncle might earn him the position of Alpha, but he’d lose the respect of everyone who mattered, himself included. He had no options, no solutions. He was stuck waiting. 

“You’re only twenty-three. Give it time.” 

The radio knob he had turned yet again, snapped off in his hand. 

“Dammit!” Wesley yelled in the empty car. 

The music was already on full blast so he couldn’t hear himself, but his throat felt the strain. For that matter, so did the rest of him. His heart raced, his lungs worked overtime, and his muscles stretched so tightly they could have snapped at any moment. He needed a way to release the tension and frustration, and when he glanced out the windshield at the streets he had been blindly driving past in his effort to put space between himself and the maddening conversation he’d had with his uncle, he found the perfect solution: a human bar. 

Most shifters had fated mates, but Alpha wolves needed to focus on their pack, not a mate, so instead of settling down with one wolf, they gave their energy to their pack and sated their bodies with shifters who weren’t yet mated. Wesley had a mirror so he knew he was attractive and there had been no shortage of admiring glances and come-ons from the humans at his school, but he hadn’t been receptive to their advances because he dedicated all his remaining free time and energy into socializing with his pack. Unfortunately, the shifters who should have been falling all over themselves to get attention from an Alpha gave him a wide berth because of the scar he’d carried since birth. As he jerked the wheel and skidded into the parking lot, the last thing Wesley wanted was to focus on wolves who held him at arm’s length. 

The scar, though large—the oddly textured skin bisected his stomach from just under his bellybutton to the top of his groin—didn’t keep him from shifting quicker than others, running faster, or being stronger. When he’d scuffled with other wolves as a youth, he had always come out on top, demonstrating his strength and proving that his skin anomaly should be irrelevant. But shifters were animals as well as people, and animals perceived an abnormality as a weakness, so to them, the scar mattered. 

In a bar full of drunk humans, though, it wouldn’t matter. They’d notice his strength and appreciate his appearance. They’d want him even with his clothes off. And in that moment, Wesley desperately needed a reminder that, as an Alpha shifter, he was revered, not excluded. Even if it was from people who had no idea he was an Alpha or that shifters existed. 




Cardeno C. - CC to friends - is a hopeless romantic who wants to add a lot of happiness and a few "awwws" into a reader's day. Writing is a nice break from real life as a corporate type and volunteer work with gay rights organizations. Cardeno's stories range from sweet to intense, contemporary to paranormal, long to short, but they always include strong relationships and walks into the happily-ever- after sunset.

Cardeno's Home, Family, and Mates series have received awards from Love Romances and More Golden Roses, Rainbow Awards, the Goodreads M/M Romance Group, and various reviewers. But even more special to CC are heartfelt reactions from readers, like, "You bring joy and love and make it part of the every day."


Excerpt ~ Playlist ~ Giveaway: Carry You Home, Carry Your Heart #2 by K. Ryan


The conclusion to Caleb and Isabelle’s story…

Everything is going as planned, for the most part. With school, the club, and new responsibilities on the horizon, the life Caleb and Isabelle imagined together is so close they can taste it. But their happiness is also a fragile one--all it takes is one wrong turn, one stupid decision and their happily ever after shatters all over the highway.

Because as old threats resurface and new ones rise, the most deadly enemy of all lies not in outside forces, but inside the club itself. How do you follow orders when you know those orders might destroy everything you love? How do you move forward when all your best-laid plans slip right through your fingertips?

Choice breeds consequence. Hope rises from the ashes. Love weathers any storm. And in the end, every road leads home.

**Carry You Home is not a standalone and is the sequel to Carry Your Heart. It is intended for readers 18 and older**






Isabelle

Both of his hands settled around my face now and overwhelmed by his closeness and drunk on the emotions he’d resurrected in me, I closed the short space between us and pressed my lips gently into his. Caleb stilled for only a moment, no doubt startled by the fact that I was the one initiating this, but I was way past the point of no return now, and he recovered a heartbeat later, tightening his hold on my face, somehow pulling me even closer to him.

It started slow and tender as our mouths tentatively became reacquainted with each other and I couldn’t help the soft moan in the back of my throat just at tasting him again. It had been so long since I’d felt this, I’d honestly forgotten what his lips felt like...or maybe I’d just forced myself to forget. But there was no denying how good this felt, how at home I felt as his hands slid all the way around my waist. 

Suddenly, I was moving in the air as he spun us around to press me back into the island. He gripped my hips to hoist me up onto the counter and my legs wrapped around his waist to help him sink in even deeper before I had a moment to recover.

His tongue pushed its way through my mouth and as his rough, familiar hands skimmed up the back of my shirt, just stopping at the edge of my bra. I shivered in his arms and wondered fleetingly if this was just all a dream. If I’d wake up any moment now, alone in my bed, and wondering what the hell just happened. But his lips were still moving over mine, tasting and taking everything I offered to him, eagerly giving it right back to me. 

My hands wound their way around the back of his neck and gripped the top of his head as he ground my hips down against the hardness in his jeans. Just as I leaned my forehead against his to sigh into his lips, a loud cough jerked me out of the whirlwind I’d stumbled into it.

My hands dropped away from Caleb’s face and I turned just in time to see my dad shuffling toward the refrigerator. Caleb jolted and hustled out from between my legs to put some space between us. He ran a hand over his head as if to smooth the hair he didn’t really have there and my dad cast a wary glance over his shoulder at us.

“Don’t mind me,” he chuckled. “Just needed something to drink.”

“Sorry, Dad,” I murmured and bit down on my bottom lip as I slid off the counter.

My dad met my eyes briefly before turning his attention to Caleb. “Where are you planning on sleeping tonight?”

Caleb cleared his throat roughly. “The couch.”

“Good,” he nodded and shut the fridge door as he turned to us with a water bottle in his hand. “Probably best to take it slow, huh?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find any words to say. My dad just waved goodnight and disappeared around the stairwell. When my eyes found Caleb again, he was staring slack-jawed after my dad and he shook his head.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “That wasn’t embarrassing or anything.”

Instead of responding, he tucked his hands deep in his pockets and grinned at me.

“I should, um,” I swallowed hard, already backpedalling toward the same hallway my dad had just disappeared to. “I should get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“I’ll be here,” he nodded. “Sweet dreams, Iz.”

I waved awkwardly because there was no way in hell I was getting out of this gracefully and I scrambled up the stairs, practically running my dad over in the process, and didn’t stop until my old bedroom door was shut safely behind me.




K. Ryan is a former English teacher, who graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point in 2009. When not writing, she’s either binge-watching something on Netflix, running, reading, or cheering on the Packers. She lives in the Green Bay area with her crazy-supportive boyfriend and the best decision of her adult life, a not-so-stray cat named Oliver.
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Release Day Blitz! One Day Soon by A. Meredith Walters


He found me in blood and tears. I stayed with him through darkness and fire. We loved each other in the moment between innocence and bitter truth. We were the kids easily ignored, who grew into adults we hardly knew. We weren’t meant to last forever. And we didn’t. He ran away. I tried to move on. Yet I never stopped thinking about the boy who had fought to keep me alive in a world that would have swallowed me whole. He was the past that I buried, but never forgot. Until the day I found him again, years after believing I had lost him forever. And in cold, resentful eyes, I saw the heart of the man who had been everything when I had nothing at all. So I vowed to hold onto the second chance that was stolen from the children we had been. Sometimes fate is ugly. Life can be twisted. And who we are can be ruined by who we once were. For two people who had survived so much, we would have to learn how to hold on before we were forced to let go. 




“Maybe I should tell you a story. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. You always liked when I made up dumb stuff to get you to smile.” I chuckled. “The more improbable the better, right? So let me think of something completely unrealistic.”

I sniffled, wiping my wet cheeks. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“Once upon a time there was a sad, lonely boy who was actually a forgotten prince. No one knew that he was rich and powerful and had a family that was searching for him.” I smiled sadly, wishing, more than anything, that this particular story had been true.

“One day he met a girl who swore that she would help him get back home to the castle. They fell in love. The prince wanted her to come back to the castle with him so they could live there together. They fought dragons and defeated ogres. They ran from witches and swam through oceans. And finally they found the castle. The prince’s family welcomed him home and he married his princess. And they lived happily ever after.”

I rested my forehead on the back of his hand, hating how cold his skin was. “You always loved your fairytales,” I mused, wishing he had been able to find his.

The hand in mine stirred and I bolted upright. Yoss’s face was contorted in pain, his eyes fluttering.

I got to my feet and reached for the call button so I could alert the nurse that something was wrong.

Then he let out a breath and his eyes opened. They were clouded and confused as they darted around the room, taking everything in.

I was rooted to the spot, not moving. He frowned and then winced when he tried to sit up.

“Uh, you shouldn’t do that. Take it easy,” I instructed, my voice shaking.

Then the wild, green eyes found me. There was no immediate recognition and I felt the crushing weight of disappointment.

He doesn’t know who I am.

His eyes were cold. So cold. Dead. He groaned as he lifted his hand to his face, touching the bandaged skin.

“Let me call the nurse. Your doctor will want to see you now that you’re awake—”

“Where am I?” he asked, his voice rough and hard.

It was a voice I had heard a million times in my dreams.

A voice I never thought I’d hear again. Not in real life.

“You’re at Lupton Memorial Hospital. You were brought in last night.” I didn’t give him any more details. I wasn’t sure he was ready for all that. He had just gained consciousness after all.

“The hospital,” he repeated. He struggled to sit up and hissed in pain at the effort.

“Seriously, you should wait and let me call the nurse—”

His eyes flashed in my direction and the cloud of confusion lifted as he speared me with a look that I felt in my bones.

Recognition.

His eyes widened and his mouth parted in disbelief.

I wanted to say something—anything—but my tongue felt frozen behind my teeth.

Yoss shook his head and closed his eyes. He let out a noise that sounded a lot like a sob and my heart knew the sound of pain when it heard it.

When he opened his eyes again, they were wet. Long, dark lashes spikey with tears that refused to fall.

A hundred memories arched between us. A thousand words spoken softly in the dark.

A dozen promises never kept.

His lips curved upwards into the shadow of a smile that I remembered and loved so much.

“Imi,” he whispered.

I nodded, still otherwise paralyzed.

“Imi,” he said again, a tear traveled the length of his cheek and dripped off his chin.

“It’s me, Yoss,” I said finally, forcing myself to speak.

Our eyes met. They held.

They clung and they devastated.

Fifteen years had passed but none of that mattered.

In that instant we were kids again. Remembering a time when, to each other, we were everything.





The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary and Paranormal romance including The Find You in the Dark and Bad Rep series as well as the upcoming stand alone romance, Reclaiming the Sand, and a dark new adult series for Gallery Books.

A. Meredith spent ten years as a counselor for at risk teens and children. First working at a Domestic Violence/Sexual Assault program and then later a program for children with severe emotional and mental health issues. Her former clients and their stories continue to influence every aspect of her writing. When not writing (or being tortured with all manner of beauty products at the hand of her very imaginative and extremely girly daughter), she is eating chocolate, watching reality television that could rot your brain and reading a smutty novel or two. A. Meredith is represented by Michelle Johnson with the Inklings Literary Agency.