Blurb: Viking hordes have long plagued the northern coast of Scotland. After her village was massacred, Jain was adopted by the neighboring clan but is haunted by the ghosts of her past. She conceals a dark secret beneath her cool exterior, but inside burns a wild heart.
Alan Gordon has the calloused hands of a blacksmith, but unlike the metal he hammers and molds, he would never aim to bend Jain to his will. He spent half a lifetime captivated by the red-haired beauty and vows to protect her and love her for the woman she is, but his resolve is tested when the truth of her past is revealed.
Jennifer is an author from Tallahassee, Florida.
After receiving a degree in theatre from BYU and working as a scenic artist for twelve years, she changed careers to do what she really loves—writing. Jennifer believes that part of her job as an artist and story teller is to create a narrative that explores a fresh perspective and leaves the audience thinking.
When she’s not busy writing or burying her nose in a book, Jennifer enjoys doing medieval reenactment with her husband and two children.
As he held out his hand to her, the girl looked back at him with green, calculating eyes. It took a moment for the recognition to sink in, but eventually she handed him the metal trinket she was hiding.
When he took it from her, the girl cried and buried her face into the crook of her arm. Eamon glanced down to the pinnacular brooch and admired the intricately woven pattern. It was a maze of knotwork woven around two dragon heads, with one on either side. Eamon had never seen anything like it; the craftsmanship was beyond anything Scottish made. As he examined it more closely, Eamon brushed his finger across the carefully worked ridges before staring up at her in awe. “Where did ye get this, child?”
Needless to say, mine saved me. After it got me into trouble first, that is. That's the problem with a vivid imagination, all the lies you tell.
I am happily married with two daughters.
I have two giant dogs, two savage cats, and a penchant for a glass of red.
Also, I drag my bread through the sauce. I can't help myself, bread is life.
According to my age, I am meant to be a responsible adult, but it isn't going well at all. I would still head off to Hogwarts tomorrow and I suspect there isn't a single wardrobe I haven't crept into, hoping to find the door to Narnia. And don't even get me started on the King's Road, I get lost.
Fortunately, I am an international bestseller so I have wormed my way into a quirky or eccentric category.
Thank God for that.
I am represented by Natalie Lakosil from the Bradford Literary Agency and am published traditionally with Montlake Romance.
The noise of the creaking stairs, the ones I had just crept up, sounded like it echoed in my ears. Someone had followed us here.
“Jake,” I whispered, hoping he was messing around. If he was, I would be angry. I lifted one leg after the other and slipped my high heels off, holding them both so I could tiptoe through the half-constructed mansion without making noise.
Jake didn't answer, but the footsteps had stopped from the moment I whispered.
The scary movie marathon we’d had before Rachel died flashed through my head, bringing ideas and memories with it. I tiptoed around the corner, brushing my Frankenstein’s bride dress on the rough edge where the unfinished walls met. The drywall scraped against me, making me wince as I hurried along the corridor to the back deck. Whoever was in the house with me was either moving silently too or they were standing still, listening.
Either way, I had a terrible feeling this wasn't a game.
That meant one thing: Jake was injured or hiding.
And I was alone.
My heart raced, my eyes burned from not blinking—fearful I would miss something—and my mouth was as dry as a mouthful of popcorn.
The floor creaked.
“Sierra,” someone whispered into the dark.
My skin crawled when I realized it wasn't Jake. It wasn't his whisper. I’d heard that enough times, always in the dark, to know it wasn't him.
“Sierra, don't be scared.” It sounded like something it couldn't be, but I didn't believe. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for the moment I needed to run to the back deck and jump down onto the sandy beach.
What had the girls in the horror movies done wrong? What could I avoid? My mind raced, remembering the runners always got caught. They always got stabbed. Usually in the back. The thought of it made my skin burn where I imagined the knife would slice.
The hiders always got caught. They were the ones breathing too loudly or hiding in stupid places.
“Sierra, I won’t hurt you if you come to me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and waited for the answer, the right choice, to pop into my head.
A dog barked, making me jump and open my eyes. The sound was joined by the creaking of the floorboards again.
With gentle breaths and controlled movements I crept along the hallway, entering the spot where the kitchen or master bedroom would likely go. The house was freshly sealed with windows and doors, but it was still in the drywall stage with plywood floors.
The massive back deck was through the white French doors, facing the beach and open ocean. The moon offered light, enough to make shadows move with me.
I hurried to an alcove I assumed would one day be a nook for a breakfast bar or maybe the ensuite soaker tub. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the bright white French doors. If I could make it to them, I was free.
If only I had my cell phone, I could call the police or Jake or Vincent. Someone would come and help me. Even Ashton might answer.
But that wasn't an option. I scolded myself for my weakness in me and forced my focus to be on the doors. They were my answer. They were my hope.
As I exhaled and plotted my moment to run and everything I would do from that point on, the floor creaked in the hallway behind me.
It was now or never.
Live or die.
I took one more breath and pushed off from the wall…
Plans. They always have such a funny way of not working out.
Jessica Latham thought she was sailing down the aisle toward happily ever after until a devastating diagnosis sent her fiancé fleeing like a fugitive. Bad judgement and too much wine hurled her into the arms of a sexy stranger as a distraction from her crushing reality. No strings, no last names, just pure unbridled passion.
It was only one night, nothing that could ever come back to haunt her. Or so she thought.
But when a vindictive frenemy reveals Jessica’s secret, her past mistake puts everything at risk, including her heart.
Kristen Luciani is a USA Today bestselling author and momtrepreneur with a penchant for stilettos, Silicon Valley, plunging necklines and grapefruit martinis. As a deep-rooted romantic who prefers juicy drama to fill the lives of anyone other than her, she tried her hand at creating a world of enchantment, sensuality, and intrigue, finally uncovering her true passion. No pun intended…
V writes with the pen name Sagarika. She is from Bangalore, India.
She is an avid reader. She mainly reads Adult and New Adult romance
as well as dark and psychological thrillers. She plans on writing
mainly for these Genres.
spends most of her free time reading, writing or watching anime.
Depending on her mood, she tends to write two to three books at a
time. She is a crazy fan of Dragonball Z and can be seen watching the
episodes in repeat. Vegeta is her all time favourite character.
*This book contains material intended for mature readers*
One night is all I was ever supposed to take from Isabella, but it wasn’t enough.
She invades my thoughts.
She fuels my hunger.
She strokes my dominance.
She threatens to turn my entire life upside down and now?
Now, she’s standing at my door.
Do I follow what my mind says and turn away the only woman I’ve ever craved?
Or do I give in and finally surrender?
I was supposed to forget about him.
I was supposed to take our secret and bury it deep.
My lips are sealed, but forgetting that night?
That’s a different story.
How can one man feel like such a good and bad idea all at once?
His world isn’t one I know anything about, but after one taste, I can’t help but crave another.
I know I should take his gift of redemption and run.
Instead, I’m standing at his door, aching to surrender.
Redemption: Part Two is the multi-POV follow-up to Redemption: Part One, a spin-off from The Promise Series which was previously released in The Vault: A Sinfully Sexy Collection.
Kate Benson was raised in Texas and currently resides in central Florida with her husband and their growing army of fur minions.She learned to read at the age of four and has been hooked ever since. She credits her passion for literature to her mother, her love of story-telling to her father and her unwavering faith in happily-ever-after’s to her husband, Sean.Some of her favorite things include rainy days, loud music, superhero movies, hot tea and of course, lazy afternoons with a great book.To find out more about Kate, her work or to just say hello, she loves hearing from her readers and can be found on social media.
“That’s the last thing that should be on your mind,” I husk, lowering myself at her feet. “Is that what’s kept you from coming back?” I ask, pulling a nod from her, the feel of her fingers on my shoulder as she steadies herself lighting my skin on fire. I peel the wet denim from her legs, my eyes hooded as they take in the matching lace between her thighs and slowly move back to her eyes. “So, then why are you here, Isabella? What made you change your mind?”
“I don’t know,” she lies, shaking her head before she swallows hard again. “I just think…” she trails off, watching me as I slowly rise in front of her, towering over her small frame. Something in my gaze forces the words from her lips. “I think maybe something keeps telling me I might just need you more.”
Flashes and dreams plague my mind, yet I have no idea whether any of it is real. But the more I dream, the more I start to wonder if it’s all part of a puzzle…a puzzle which leads me straight to him.
The man in the suit.
I have no idea what he wants with me. All I know is that with each puzzle piece I manage to put in place, I feel more drawn to him. As if there’s a connection between us I can’t explain.
But there’s a prickle of warning in the back of my mind telling me this is all a dangerous
game filled with lies and deceit—a game which forces me to trust him…
…the man in the suit.
Fueled by coffee and rainy days, shelves of books consuming her home in the Pacific Northwest, and a vivid imagination, Fiona writes about love because she believes the world needs more of it. She could spend eternity lost in a story, taken into someone’s thoughts while she is left lingering there long after the pages have turned. Fiona works to meld themes in the current world and spin them into stories of longing, determination, and hope. Her characters are relatable and relevant, as they battle their own fictional version of existence.
He was lenient, divulging details in an actual conversation, and technically he never threatened my life before our conversation. Unless he was killing me by looking so gorgeous in his pajamas. Liam’s grin returned, his head shaking slightly while he laughed.
“You’re cute, Aideen.” His chuckle was soft. “I like you a lot.”
“Great.” My eyes rolled, mocking him. “Let’s be best friends.”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan, actually. Best friends tell each other secrets, right? They do that sort of stuff?”
I narrowed my eyes, studying Liam suspiciously as he grinned. “Depends on what secrets, I suppose. If you’re about to tell me who you killed last night, I don’t want the burden of that secret. If it’s that you finished you brother’s wine, then you better have kept a bottle for me.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he sighed. “You’re too funny for Julian. He’s so tightly wound and overprotective. Want to know a secret?” Liam stood from the kitchen table, my body mindlessly mirroring his posture. His hands fell atop my shoulders while he studied my face, his gaze stopping at my eyes.
“You’re a smart girl, Aideen. Do the research. It will surely tell you more than Julian,” Liam whispered in my ear. He spun away, my shoulders shivering with the loss of touch, and walked toward the kitchen sink while still mumbling something. I couldn’t hear Liam; my mind was distracted by the familiar heightened sense of goose bumps that trailed along my neck.
“What’s going on?” Julian interrupted, his right hand rubbing sleep from his faded eyes. What do I do?