Our love is imperfect in the most perfect way. It is love done our way. Raw. Unconventional. Sexy as hell. More importantly, it is honest to the core…Or so I think. One little, white lie shouldn't do so much damage. Yet, it changes me forever. The worst part is that Declan whispers that sweet nothing out of protection. My safety is in the forefront of his mind, especially since there are others who’d hurt me simply to get to him. I never consider that he will be the one to cut me so deeply. But it all starts with that first prick—the night he saves my life.
His perilous stare deepened as his grip fastened around my waist. As maniacal thoughts passed over his eyes, his grasp tightened. That look confirmed that I wasn’t the only one who wanted all the space between us eliminated. I could hardly breathe when his gaze fell to my lips. It left me without words. It was the very way a passing glance could leave you speechless. But Declan didn’t just take a glimpse. No, he unapologetically looked me over. He loved me in not so many words, but I heard them all the same. I heard them with each moan that echoed in the air. I felt them as he held me gently in his arms. Even if I didn’t feel the desire radiating off of him in a fury of passion, he bore that intensity in his gaze. The world around us melted away until there was only me and him.
Sarah J. Pepper specializes in dark, paranormal romance - think "happy ever after" but with a twisted, dark chocolate center. Real-life romance isn't only filled with hugs, kisses, bunnies, and rainbows. True-love can be more thoroughly described in times of darkness and tribulation. It's in those harsh moments where you see what a person is truly capable of - both the good and bad. Sometimes prince-charming isn't always on time, and the glass slipper is a little snug. However, it doesn't mean Charming is not Mr. Right, and who says every shoe is the perfect fit? Get a glimpse inside her head at www.sarahjpepper.com
Some things can't be saved. What would you do if your guardian angel wasn't sent to protect you from the world but to protect the world from you? For thirteen years, Gracen Sullivan dreamed about a red-eyed demon named Hart Blackwell who tortured her every night. Her mother freaked when she found out about her daughter's "hallucinations" and forced Gracen to go to the doctor, who prescribed some very powerful medication which kept Hart out of her head for five years. A week ago, Hart came back and brought a friend. But something has changed, and Gracen is seeing Hart when she's awake too. And the other "friends" in her dreams? They have been found dead. The police want to talk to her. Her boyfriend has become distant. Her dreams are becoming more and more intense. Hell wants her. Heaven has to stop her. When push comes shoving, can Gracen fight the evil eating away inside her or will she be forced to embrace it and destroy the world?
Jessup Hart Blackwell ate my brain every night. He also ate my spleen, my liver, and my kidneys. Basically, anything he could get to, he ate. My tongue was his favorite. He said liars' tongues were the best.
The leather straps with the weird symbols on them held me down—and quite frankly chaffed the heck out of me—while he cut and ripped away at every bit of skin, muscle, and cell I had.
All but one.
My heart.
He said it was because I didn't have one.
For years this happened until I finally told my mom who took me to the doctor who in turn gave me some medicine to induce a dreamless sleep and offered the alternative of placing me in a mental hospital if I didn't want to take it.
I chose medicine.
The nightmares stopped.
Until a week ago when I started my freshman year at the University of Tennessee at Crimson Ridge campus.Last night, Hart brought a friend.
Kelly Martin writes paranormal, contemporary, historical, and YA fiction. She has been married for over ten years and has three rowdy, angelic daughters. When she's not writing, she loves taking picture of abandoned houses, watching horror gamers on YouTube-- even though she's a huge wimp-- and drinking decaf white chocolate mochas. She's a total fangirl, loves the 80s and 90s, and has a sad addiction to paranormal TV shows. {Basically, she likes creepy stuff.} Her favorite characters are the very flawed 'good guys'--and 'bad guys' who don't know they are evil. She loves giving her readers books with unexpected twists and turns, but (here's a hint) most of her books have the ending spelled out in the first chapter. See if you can figure it out.
On the day of her Presenting, in front of the entire Byern Court, seventeen-year-old Cyrene Strohm's lifelong plans come to fruition when she's chosen as an Affiliate to the Queen.
Or so she thinks. When Cyrene receives a mysterious letter and an unreadable book, she finds nothing is as it seems. Thrust into a world of dangerous political intrigue and deadly magic, Cyrene's position only grows more treacherous when she finds herself drawn to the one man she can never have...
King Edric himself.
Cyrene must decide if love is truly worth the price of freedom. Find out in this first book in USA Today bestselling author K.A. Linde’s new Ascension series.
“Let them in.” King Maltrier pulled in a shuddering breath and then coughed raggedly for a minute.
“Your Majesty, are you sure?” his longtime servant asked. He had the same relentless attitude that he always had, but he sounded more earnest than ever, as if he could will the King not to die.
“Get them, Solmis. Now.”
Solmis walked wearily across the darkened room. He heaved open the weathered door to the King’s bedchamber and spoke to the pair of guards standing watch, “Get the boys. The King wishes to speak with them.”
One guard punched his right fist to the left side of his chest in a formal Byern salute and then walked into the outer chamber. A moment later, he returned with two young boys with the same dark hair and blue-gray eyes that marked them as Dremylon heirs.
“This way, boys,” Solmis said. He was one of the few people who could get away with calling the Princes boys.
“Thank you, Solmis,” Edric, the crown prince, said with a smile and the confidence of someone who never wanted for anything.
The second son, Kael, pushed past them both, mimicking his brother’s stride. His face was set in a scowl. Some of his youthful exuberance had already drained out of him, and in its place was cynicism from losing a mother too young and from having a sick father, but mostly, it was from being second.
“Father,” he called out.
“Come here, Kael,” the King said. He patted the side of the bed. “You, too, Edric.”
Edric walked to his side and settled into a chair while Kael hoisted himself up onto the bed.
With Edric being fifteen and Kael at thirteen, both were much too young for this kind of loss.
The King had seen his youngest, Jesalyn, earlier that day. She had cried the entire time, understanding what was coming and knowing she could do nothing to stop it. In tears, she had run out of the room and straight into Consort Shamira’s arms. She had all but raised the child after his wife, Queen Adelaida’s unceremonious death.
But he couldn’t waste thoughts on that now. He was tiring with every passing moment. The boys…they had to know.
“Solmis,” the King said, regaining a shred of strength.
His servant, his old friend, left the room, giving them the privacy they needed.
“Father,” Kael repeated impatiently.
“I’m dying,” King Maltrier said.
Silence followed the declaration. Kael looked aghast. Edric tried to hide the shock of what he knew would be coming next.
“Edric will succeed me.”
“I’m too young to be king,” Edric whispered.
“Fifteen is not too young.” The King thought that was questionable, but he would not dispute it with his son. Edric had to be strong. He had to rule. “You have the Consort and my High Order to help and guide you.”
Edric swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Father.”
“Trust in yourself, and all will go as planned. I have formed an alliance with Aurum for Jesalyn to be queen and another with Tiek, who has offered you their young Princess Kaliana. Honor these matches to keep our people safe. A strong king is one with an heir.”
The King leaned over and coughed into a handkerchief for several minutes. His throat was raw, and his lungs ached. He didn’t know how much more he could take, but he had to pass on their legacy.
But could he put that burden on them?
He had to decide now.
No. He would tell only one. He would pass it on to the boy most like himself—the one who could handle the knowledge, the one destined to rule.
The King turned to one of his sons and said, “I need to speak with your brother alone for a moment.”
His eyebrows knit together as hurt and confusion clouded his features. “But, Father—”
“Go,” King Maltrier commanded.
He clenched his jaw, stood, and left without another word.
It was the last time the King would ever see his son.
The door closed roughly behind him.
King Maltrier turned to his other son. “You know the story of our ancestor Viktor Dremylon.”
He nodded, but the King continued anyway.
“Viktor struck down the evil Doma court that subjugated our people. Then he claimed the throne for himself with the sole purpose of ruling in a fair and just system.”
“Yes, Father.”
“History is told by the winners.”
“What do you mean?” He tilted his head and looked concerned.
Perhaps he thought the King had already lost his mind.
“Viktor did destroy the Doma court, and he ushered in a new era of Dremylon rule that has persisted two thousand years up until you today. But what is not in the stories is that the Doma court had ruled because they had powerful…abilities.”
His son laughed like his father was telling a fairy tale.
“Listen!” the King snapped. That sent him into another fit, and his son helped him sit up, so he could cough into his handkerchief.
When King Maltrier leaned back again, the King saw blood had coated the white silk.
“Father, you should rest.”
“I need to tell you—” He was interrupted by another cough. “—the truth. Viktor beat the Doma court and the most powerful leader they had ever known, Domina Serafina, by stealing magic—dark magic, a magic that cursed Viktor and all his ancestors. It cursed me…and you…the entire Dremylon line.”
His son remained silent and still. The King had gained his attention.
“Now, I must leave you with this, Son.” The King retrieved a heavy gold key from around his neck and placed it in his son’s hands. “A lockbox in the wall in my closet contains Viktor Dremylon’s writings. Collect it, and tell no one. You must continue our legacy. Anyone who has Doma blood and discovers their magic must be eliminated. They threaten our power, your power. They threaten the very world we live in.”
USA Today bestselling author K.A. Linde is the author of The Affiliate, the first book in the Ascension Series. As a military brat, she traveled the world with her family, imaginary friends, and ever-increasing supply of books. She has spent much of her life dreaming up new worlds and characters and forcing them into uncomfortable, usually life-threatening scenarios. After graduating from the University of Georgia with a masters degree in political science, she began spending every waking hour putting those characters onto paper.
When not writing, she spends her time dancing, collecting paperbacks in the hopes of filling a Beauty and the Beast style library one day, traveling to visit her friends who live all over the country, and still reading anything she can get her hands on. She currently resides in North Carolina with her husband and two puppies, Lucy and Riker, where she is hard at work on her next novel.
Socialite Trista Patterson has turned her back on her life of privilege and dedicated herself to helping others. Her mission to protect the world’s children often takes her into the bleak and violent underbelly of third world countries. When a kidnapping attempt goes wrong, Trista quickly finds herself running for her life...and married to a man she just met...as she’s placed at the top of the Cartel’s most wanted list.
Some days no good deed goes unpunished.
Dane O’Brien has spent his life in the shadows. Once a lethal assassin he grew tired of losing his soul with every hit, trading his gun and missions for a conference table and office politics as an undercover operative for the CIA. But when visiting his humanitarian sister turns deadly, Dane finds himself swearing to protect her beautiful and passionate friend Trista no matter the cost...even if it means stepping back into the world he swore never to return to. Although falling for the tough-hearted Trista is easy, keeping her alive is hard.
He called to her several more times and then started back to his car to gather supplies to hike a mile or two farther to try to find more evidence of her presence. The swish of a branch behind him caught his attention. Whoever was hiding had emerged.
Relief turned to caution as Trista walked out of the jungle with a layer of mud covering her and a handgun aimed at his head.
“Trista?”
She didn’t speak. Her eyes remained focused on him, and her legs seemed poised to take off at the slightest threat.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Hovering in the area between the road and the forest, she shook her head. “You’re Jenny’s brother?”
Her voice sounded stronger than her faltering body appeared. Some of the mud that covered her looked more like blood that had dried on her shirtsleeves and part of her pants.
“Yes. I’m Dane O’Brien.”
“What’s Jenny’s middle name?” Her eyebrows furrowed as they had in the pictures.
“She doesn’t have one.”
She took a tentative step forward. She observed Dane’s movements and fixed her eyes on his like a panther ready to pounce. “What’s her favorite drink?”
“Chocolate milkshakes. Or a margarita if the bar carries fresh limes.”
The tension in her face melted away. She pointed the gun to the ground and walked over to him. His arms opened automatically—after all, the woman had been through hell. She probably needed a hug or a shoulder to cry on.
She crossed her arms over her chest, the gun dangling from her hand. Her breathing pattern switched from a heavy sigh to a shivery exhale. He put his arms down and observed her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’ll survive.”
“Let me rephrase. Do you need medical attention?”
“No.”
“Where are the men who took you from the village?”
“Dead.”
“You killed them?”
She nodded. Her gaze dropped to the ground. Most people never recovered from such a nightmare. Yet she’d not only lived through the ordeal, she emerged from the jungle healthy and armed.
Impressive.
He’d placed the odds against her, but now that he saw her in person, he’d have changed his bet. He approached her with caution. Her finger rested just outside the trigger, in a position a skilled shooter would feel comfortable with.
She peered up at him. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know how I’d get down from the mountain. Is Jenny all right?”
“Worried about you.”
“What about Natalia?”
“I don’t know anything about her, except she’s probably alive thanks to you. Did they hurt you?” He placed a calming hand on her shoulder and slipped the gun out of her hand.
“No.” She eyed the weapon, but didn’t reach for it. Not that she’d be capable of taking it back from him.
“I’ve been listening to the group’s radio all night. They’re coming back. For me.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She ignored it and looked toward the hut. “I didn’t mean to kill them.”
“Kill or be killed.” He urged her toward the Land Cruiser with a soft hand still on her shoulder, trying to ease the wretched emotions that would brand her view of the world forever—the same emotions that tortured his soul every night. “You survived a kidnapping by two moronic men. Don’t feel guilty.”
“You’d have killed them?”
More than killed them. That’s why he hid away in an office now. If anyone had threatened to rape a young girl in his presence, he would have flayed their skin and stuffed it down their throats before ripping their hearts out. “I wouldn’t have been as merciful as you.”
A Bostonian by birth, Veronica Forand regrettably lost her Boston accent while moving from state to state and country to country. Cleveland probably had the most profound effect on her ability to pronounce the “r” in the word “park.”
She does try to return now and then to visit family and eat long neck clams and lobster. Summers on Cape Cod are also high on the priority list.
Her experience in crime involves time as a court appointed attorney. Eventually, she switched fields to where bigger crimes take place, corporate tax. The allure of spending mornings in her pajamas homeschooling her children and writing fascinating fiction caused her to change careers again. Now that the kids are out of the house (in school), she writes romantic thrillers by day and is the perfect wife and mother at night.
Her experience in romance is limited to one man. Luckily, he’s still finding ways to charm her by taking her on vacations to the south of France, Fiji, and the Green Mountains when time is short. Avid travelers, they love to roam with their kids across continents in pursuit of skiing, scuba diving, and the perfect piece of chocolate.
She’s lived in London, Paris, Geneva, Washington D.C., and the accent destroying city of Cleveland. She currently resides near Philadelphia.
Her books are published by Entangled Publishing, Boroughs Publishing Group, and The Wild Rose Press.
