Forever Yours (A Novel in 3 Parts) by Alisha Kay, Shilpa Suraj, Andaleeb Wajid

 

A fake engagement has gotten disturbingly real…

When a pretend engagement ends in a very real combined bachelor/bachelorette weekend in Goa, three couples find their lives going from chaotic to disastrous…

Hatefully Yours by Alisha Kay is the quintessential enemies to lovers story with a very interesting twist.
Aditi and Manan hate each other but love their mutual best friend, Karthik. Planning his bachelor party is a trip to hell sprinkled with accidental kisses that taste of heaven. Past misunderstandings, present attraction, and a future built on hope all tangles together to make this weekend one to remember.

Sinfully Yours by Shilpa Suraj is the story of a one night stand turning into nights that they hope never end.
Sidharth is Bollywood’s biggest hit-turned-overnight-flop. His best friend Sanjana’s bachelorette in Goa is the perfect place for him to hide out and drink his sorrows away. Until he passes out in the arms of the extremely hot pixie who moonlights as a bartender in a shack in Goa. And Dani is left with an armful of drunk movie star who is as messed up as he is hot.

Deceitfully Yours by Andaleeb Wajid is the story of what happens when a fake relationship starts to feel very, very real.
Sanjana and Karthik just wanted their parents to stop talking marriage to them. So, they faked an engagement and now their parents are not talking marriage but planning a wedding instead. When their friends throw them a combined bachelor and bachelorette party, they use the opportunity to plan their breakup. Except behind all well laid plans lies the path to disaster.

Three love stories, three oddball couples, one epic weekend in Goa…

Will they find their heart’s twisted path or focus on the brain’s straight-but-boring one? Will they gamble on their happily-ever-after or choose to leave Goa as they came, single and not ready to mingle?

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Short Excerpt from Hatefully Yours by Alisha Kay

No! God, no! Not her! Anyone but her.

What the hell was Aditi Kedia doing here?

The minute he asked himself that, Manan could have kicked himself. Of course, she’d be here. She was Karthik’s friend, just as he was, and while Karthik was the smartest guy he knew, he was completely oblivious to the cold vibes between his two best friends. Or maybe he didn’t care. He wouldn’t see anything wrong in inviting both his friends together.

Something else struck him, and the biryani that he’d had for lunch threatened to make a second appearance.

His mother hadn’t told him anything about the girl that Karthik was supposed to marry. Just said that she was a friend of his. Was it Aditi?

Every cell in his body revolted at the idea of Karthik marrying Aditi. He told himself that it was because he didn’t want his friend to be ensnared by the evil little she-devil. It had nothing to do with the way his heart sped up at the very sight of her. Or the very inexplicable impulse that came over him occasionally to kiss her senseless.

Not that he ever gave in to such an impulse. He hated Aditi with all his heart. That’s all there was to it.

Alisha Kay writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.

The first book in The Devgarh Royals series, The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée, won the grand prize at the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.

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Short Excerpt from Sinfully Yours by Shilpa Suraj

Sid froze, the glass near his lips. “You certainly have a way with words and polite conversation.”
“Really? You are critiquing me on etiquette, Beach Bum?” She responded to someone hailing her from the other end of the bar with a raised hand.
“Listen, I’ve got to go,” she told him. “Work and stuff. You have a good night, okay?”
“Dani, listen.” Sid grabbed her hand before she could rush off. “When do you finish?”
“I finish at two in the morning,” she smiled. “Not exactly an early night.”
“I’ll wait,” he smiled back, something frozen in his chest thawing at the sight of her warm, beaming face. “Could we get something to eat and maybe chat or something?”
“I don’t ‘or something’ with guys I’ve just met,” she grinned.
“I threw up on you. You threw a bucket of water on me. I think we’re past first or even third date pleasantries, don’t you agree?”
Dani threw her head back and laughed, the same loud, warm laugh he remembered. The thawing moved on to melting.
“Alright,” she said. “Stick around. We’ll grab dinner during my break and chat.” She pointed a finger at him. “No ‘or something’.”
Sid grinned. Suddenly, ‘or something’ was all he could think about.

Shilpa Suraj wears many hats - corporate drone, homemaker, mother to a fabulous toddler and author.

An avid reader with an overactive imagination, Shilpa has weaved stories in her head since she was a child. Her previous stints at Google, in an ad agency and as an entrepreneur provide colour to her present day stories, both fiction and non-fiction.

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Short Excerpt from Deceitfully Yours by Andaleeb Wajid

Karthik stared at Sanjana as she stood at the jetty and it almost felt like the rest of the world had faded to nothing. He could see only her, as she stood there, stark against the background of the greyish water. He was still reeling from what his mother had just said about him and Sanjana but he was also trying to look at it realistically. He had been a child then. But surely, there had to be something about her, something that had drawn them together that fateful day when he saw her seated in the garden on his favourite bench.

Fate. It had to be fate, he told himself.

Andaleeb Wajid is the author of 27 published novels and she writes across different genres such as romance, YA and horror. Her horror novel It Waits was shortlisted at Mami Word to Screen 2017 and her Young Adult series, The Tamanna Trilogy has been optioned for screen by a reputed production house. Andaleeb's novel When She Went Away was shortlisted for The Hindu Young World Prize in 2017. Andaleeb is a hybrid author who has self-published more than 10 novels in the past two years.

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Whisper a Kiss by Laura Haley-McNeil

 

He broke a promise to save her life.

Hunter Whitloch’s Wall Street career is on the fast track until he learns about his boss’, Egon Gregory, underhanded dealings. Hunter’s and Egon’s confrontation means Hunter must turn a blind eye or return to Crystal Creek and walk away from a lucrative career and the only woman he’s ever loved⸻Egon’s daughter, Bryce. He won’t let her make a choice between him and her father, so he makes that choice for her.
Bryce watched Hunter walk out of her life and never expected to see him again⸻until he shows up at her father’s funeral. The mystery deepens when Bryce learns her father asked Hunter to return to New York⸻the night her father died. The authorities have ruled Egon’s death a suicide but attempts on her life unearth more questions than answers⸻namely who can she trust? The man who abandoned her a year ago, or her father’s right-hand man who wants to seize control of the company from her?
Hunter has to return to Crystal Creek, but he won’t leave Bryce as bait to someone who wants her dead. But Crystal Creek isn’t the haven he expected, and soon he and Bryce race against the clock to find out what secret died with Egon, and how to endure the pain that has them fighting to protect their hearts and their lives. 

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Bryce Gregory and Hunter Whitloch – Whisper a Kiss

As the daughter of billionaire Egon Gregory, Bryce has it all, including men who want to marry her. She soon learns that her father’s billions makes her attractive to men who are looking for a way to get rich quick. One heartbreak is one too many,  and she develops a distrust toward men. Can any man love her for herself, or will her wealth be the most attractive feature about her? She won’t let her guard down when it comes to men. Though she’s cool and aloof, men still seek her out. Afraid of another heartbreak, she keeps her distance from men. It will take a special man to break past the barrier and convince her he loves Bryce for herself.

Could that man be Hunter Whitloch?

Hunter knows too well what it’s like to live in the shadow of the powerful. His grandfather is the wealthy financier Max Whitloch, Sr. Hunter’s father, Max, Jr., never forgave his father for abandoning him after his mother died.

Hunter loves his grandfather, but learned early on that many wanted to be his friend because of who his grandfather is. He understands Bryce’s reluctance to have relationships. He doesn’t know who wants to be his friend and who wants to use him. Because of Bryce’s fear of relationships, he lets her go. He’ll be there when she needs him.

After Hunter and Bryce graduate college, Bryce’s father, Egon, hires Hunter. He’s now climbing the corporate ladder. When Bryce opens her heart to him, he know she’s the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

His life couldn’t be better. He’s with the woman he loves, and he’s becoming a success without the help of his grandfather. He’s on the fast track …

Until …

His fraternity brothers started a company in their dorm room and want to take the company public. Hunter’s excited to help. He drafts the public offering and with Egon’s blessing prepares the deal. When the offering is scheduled to close, his brothers call and tell him the payout they’ll receive is less than the agreement.

Angry and humiliated, Hunter confronts Egon. Egon’s partner, Percy, is cheating Hunter’s fraternity brothers. Egon is enraged. How dare Hunter accuse Percy of underhanded dealings. Unless Hunter can prove Percy’s duplicity, he can leave.

Hunter can’t prove it. He’ll leave, but he’ll take Bryce with him.

Egon tells him that’s where he’s wrong. If he leaves the company, he’ll leave Bryce.

Hunter can’t walk away from Bryce.

What happens next?

Buy Whisper a Kiss and find out.

About the Author:

A native of California, Laura Haley-McNeil spent her youth studying ballet and piano, though her favorite pastime was curling up with a good book. Without a clue as to how to write a book, she knew one day she would.
After college, she segued into the corporate world, but she never forgot her love for the arts and served on the board of two community orchestras. Finally realizing that the book she’d dreamt of writing wouldn’t write itself, she planted herself in front of her computer. She now immerses herself in the lives and loves of her characters in her romantic suspense and her contemporary romance novels. Many years later, she lived her own romantic novel when she married her piano teacher, the love of her life.
Though she and her husband have left warm California for cooler Colorado, they enjoy the outdoor life of hiking, bicycling, horseback riding and snow skiing. They satisfy their love of music by attending concerts and hanging out with their musician friends, but Laura still catches a few free moments when she can sneak off and read. 

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Vice & Virtue by Justin M. Kiska

Vice & Virtue

by Justin M. Kiska

February 14 – March 11, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Parker City, 1984…

Three years after the Spring Strangler case rocked the historic Western Maryland city nestled at the foot of the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains, life has returned to normal for Detective Ben Winters and his partner, Tommy Mason. With a new chief now leading the department and the city slowly crawling out of its economic distress, everything seems to be moving in the right direction.

Until one sweltering summer day, a killer begins targeting police officers. Ben and Tommy find themselves once again leading an investigation the likes of which Parker City has never seen. The detectives quickly come to realize that until the shooter is found, everyone wearing a badge is in danger. To complicate matters even further, when a recently unearthed skeleton mysteriously connects to the string of police homicides, Ben and Tommy begin to think their current case may be tied to events twenty years earlier.

But how could a skeleton buried two decades ago hold the key to solving their current case?

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: February 15, 2022
Number of Pages: 288
ISBN: 978-1-68512-069-6
Series:Parker City Mysteries, #2 || Each book is a stand alone novel.
Purchase Links: Amazon | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Tall and athletic, Tommy Mason always reminded Ben of Tom Selleck’s Magnum P.I. character from television. Tommy always had that whole ruggedly handsome thing going for him. Mixed with a little bit of a “bad boy” vibe and he drove the women wild.

Next to Ben’s clean-cut, buttoned-down appearance, their pairing caused many to do a doubletake. At first glance, they appeared to be complete opposites. But as one got to know them, they were very much alike. Each brought out the best in the other and at the end of the day, it was all about getting the job done. Sure, each had his own style, but that’s what made them such a formidable team.

Tommy’s apparent willingness to skirt the rules was always offset by Ben’s ability to find ways to use the rules to their benefit. Just as Ben’s refusal to play the internal politics game allowed Tommy to use his charm to keep too many feathers from getting ruffled amongst the powers-that-be. They each knew the other’s strengths and weaknesses and how to adapt them to their own, which is why they’d been so impressive in getting the PCPD’s Detective Squad off the ground.

“What are you doing here?” Ben asked, more than a little surprised to see his partner.

“Shirley from Dispatch called me. She thought I’d be interested,” Tommy explained. “And before you say anything about what I’m wearing, I just want to remind you, it is our day off, so I didn’t think I needed to get dressed up to come to a potential crime scene. Especially when we don’t actually know this is a crime scene yet.”

He was referring to the fact he had on a T-shirt and comfortable pair of jeans, as opposed to the full suit and tie Ben was wearing.

“Besides, now you don’t have to worry about getting your fancy suit muddy. I have no problems getting down there in the dirt,” Tommy smiled, pointing at the fresh mud stains on his knees. With that, he knelt back down to take another look at the exposed skeletal remains under the floorboards.

“So, tell me. What do we have?” Ben asked, crouching next to Tommy so he could get a better look.

“You can see there’s a pretty big cavity here under this part of the floor,” Tommy pointed out. “It’s got to be a good ten by ten area where the ground has been eaten away, even though it’s not too deep, less than a foot in some places. It’s definitely because of water…there’s a lot of mud down there. As the earth under the floor eroded, it uncovered the skeleton. Partway, at least. Of course, no one could see what was happening under here until our friend Mr. Haggarty had the unfortunate experience of stepping on a board that was rotted through and it snapped, sending him falling through the floor. You can see where he landed in the mud.

“And right there,” Tommy pointed, “you see the skull and top portion of the skeleton sticking out of the ground.”

“You came face-to-face with that thing, man?” Tommy looked over at the construction worker who was leaning against the wall. “Not a good way to start the day.”

“Yeah. You’re telling me,” Haggarty answered.

Turning back to the skeleton, Tommy said, “I’m no expert, but that hole in the skull right there…see it, it looks like it could be a GSW from a pretty heavy caliber gun.”

Leaning down and twisting his head so he could try and get a better look at the skull, Ben saw the hole and wondered if his partner was right. Finding a skeleton buried under the floor was one thing. Finding a skeleton buried under the floor with a bullet hole in its skull was something else. It took everything to a different level.

Standing and stretching their legs, Tommy said, “When Shirley first called me, I thought this was going to have been some kind of prank. Some kids snuck into the site on a dare and left a skeleton for the crew to find.”

“You thought kids somehow buried a skeleton under this building in the hopes someone would fall through the floor and find it?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not to mention having to figure out how to bury the thing under the floor?”

“In my defense,” Tommy started, raising a finger and shaking it at his partner, “I didn’t know the skeleton was buried under the warehouse. I just knew they’d found a skeleton at the warehouse.”

The first thing that needed to happen was to get the skeleton out of the ground. That would be up to the crime scene techs. Even though he could easily reach in and pull the skull out to get a better look, Ben didn’t want to disturb anything more than it already had been when Lance Haggarty crashed through the floor. Thankfully, he hadn’t actually landed on the skull itself.

“So much for our day off,” Ben said, looking at his watch, wondering where the crime scene guys were.

***

Excerpt from Vice & Virtue by Justin M. Kiska. Copyright 2022 by Justin M. Kiska. Reproduced with permission from Justin M. Kiska. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

When not sitting in his library devising new and clever ways to kill people (for his mysteries), Justin can usually be found at The Way Off Broadway Dinner Theatre, outside of Washington, DC, where he is one of the owners and producers. In addition to writing the Parker City Mysteries Series, he is also the mastermind behind Marquee Mysteries, a series of interactive mystery events he has been writing and producing for over fifteen years. Justin and his wife, Jessica, live along Lake Linganore outside of Frederick, Maryland.

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Twitter - @JustinKiska
Facebook - @JMKiska

 

 

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The Sphere of Spirit by K.D.Peters

 

YA Fantasy Romance

Release Date: April 19, 2022

The Sphere is an ultimate weapon to destroy a world and requires the sacrifice of ten magical kids. Nine are missing and novice fae, Sophie, is the tenth.

Seventeen-year-old Sophie Emerson struggles to keep her clairvoyance a secret. Seeing the future belongs to the Dark Ones. But when Sophie’s visions display the nine missing kids from the village and place herself in the middle of it all, she has a choice to make. Reveal her secret and suffer the consequences or end up being the missing segment of a weapon that will bring forth the apocalypse.

About the Author

KD Peters loves the fantasy genre and is a young adult at heart. She dabbles in crossover genres with fantasy as one of her favorites. Mythical creatures like phoenixes and shape-shifting griffins are, among others, she created herself in The Sphere of Spirit. She’ll release her debut novel in the Legacy born series in 2022. If you want to know more about KD Peters, visit her website at kdpeters.com where you can follow her on her social media accounts.

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Six Word Stories by Doug Weller

 

Stories, Poems, Memoirs, and Jokes, told in only six words

Short Stories, Poetry

Date Published: February 16, 2022

Publisher: Hebe Publications

Six Word Stories is the latest collection of stories told in only six words. Following on the success of Six Word Wonder and Six Word Stories, hundreds of new stories, poems, memoirs, and jokes are shared here for your amusement.

The collection brings together the best micro fiction from all over the world.

The book also contains a condensed version of the Six Word Wonder Workbook - offering fun, practical steps to writing your own six word wonders.

Six Word Stories is a sparkling collection of stories, jokes, memoirs, and poems, all written in only six words. Find horror, romance, thriller, hilarity, and tragedy all bundled up in a few tiny words.This collection of micro-fiction gives readers a chance to get an instant dose of story. Six Word Stories by Doug Weller includes the winner of the Six Word Wonder Contest, with over 3000 stories were entered. As well as publication, the winner receives a $100 prize as the Six Word Wonder 2020.This is the follow-up books Six Word Wonder and Six Word Story by Doug Weller. Hundreds of six word stories to surprise, entertain, and amuse.

Here are a few six word stories to spark your interest:

Undertaker paused when he heard tapping

Today, I remembered I had dementia.

Slowly completed father's bucket list.

Dear diary, he's outside the door. . .

These stories and many more are played out over nine movements in Six Word Stories.

About the Author

Doug Weller is a writer of psychological thrillers and creator of the Six Word Wonder. His mission is to entertain, educate, and amuse.His new book, Six Word Story, bring stories, jokes and poetry together. Each written in only six words.Six Word Wonder is a social media sensation, with over 10,000 followers on Instagram @sixwordwonder. You can find Doug at https://dougweller.net

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For the Bright Ones by Sarah Ann Negus

 

May they come out of the shadows

Poetry

DATE PUBLISHED: 14 February, 2022

This collection of poems came as a surprise to me.

When something is easy, brings joy and excitement I do more of it and that is what happened here. Poetry has been a life-long pleasure, but usually as a reader. I have dabbled in writing private pieces before, then these came.

Sometimes, there is a meeting of two people that changes everything.

This book is a result of one of those times. The words coming through on the music of a guitar; the notes and melodies acting as a muse; the song as an anchor to hold onto while playing with the creative force that is available to all of us. It opened a channel for me and the words dropped onto the page. Most times, I felt vulnerable to read them, let alone share them, but here they are for you.

My work in the world has always been the work of the heart and of the soul, connecting people to a deeper truth of themselves. Helping people to remember that they are connected to something wonderful and vast. Opening them up to their inner spiritual power. This book is another vehicle for that intention of my life.

May it remind you of your own heart’s strength.

Sarah x

About the Author

Sarah Negus is a spiritual mentor, author, and executive coach, guiding high level entrepreneurs, corporate executives, and high-flying startups to embody the best version of themselves - reaching seemingly impossible goals and extreme levels of growth and success. She coined the title, Modern Day Shaman® - marrying traditional shamanic practices with modern psychology and mindset methods.

Sarah guides her clients to re-shape and re-frame their inner beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors to rewrite the unconscious story they play throughout each day. Since every individual is unlike anyone else on earth, these results are not limited to any one channel - hence, this book of poetry to unearth your spiritual connection to love and inner power.

A creative and romantic to the core, she traipses through nature with her little dogs, offers hands-on healing with spiritual clients, and takes frequent trips to Ibiza. There, she soaks up the sunshine before heading back to the countryside where she lives with her son in Surrey, UK.

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Heart of Swine by Freddy F.Fonseca

 

Dystopian, Humor

Publisher: Obex Publishing

A Ridiculously Realistic, Deadly Serious Comedy - With a Superhero Pig

Think you're living in an environmental dystopia?

Wait until we start thawing a frozen planet with pig farts.

That's where the story begins and it doesn't get any less wild. At once ridiculous and chilling, rising surrealist talent Freddy F. Fonseca explores the dark, porky underbelly beneath humanity's seemingly ever-more-virtuous race toward sustainability - and the genius puppet-masters who watch our feeble bamboo-straw-buying attempts and smile, while flattening another rainforest.

Oh yeah, and there's our hero. The last remaining pig on Earth just happened to be blessed with superpowers. Which he would use to avenge the extermination of his species, were he not to get tangled up in an all-too-human web of greed, lust, and indifference.

The anarchic and ambitious Heart of Swine has breath-taking scope and a wry, not totally resigned smile. It incautiously pulls away the covers to reveal how half-assed humanity's efforts to clean up after itself have been. It's funny and coarse, sure, but the writer is deadly serious. The epic failures we continue to see around the world on a personal and political level are taken to frightening lengths. And reading Heart of Swine is like a Rorschach test for one's outlook on the future - although it's hard to think, especially after finishing this book, that everything's going to be just fine.

About the Author

Freddy F. Fonseca graduated with a First Class Honours in Creative Writing and English Literature from LMU and has a MSc in Environment, Politics and Society from UCL.

The writer strives to create stories that reflect the complexity of human nature and question the unhealthy entanglement with materiality.

​What pushed Freddy to write Heart of Swine is the fact that too many don’t understand their accent.

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Trust Me by Kelly Irvin

Trust Me

by Kelly Irvin

February 7 - March 4, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

When her best friend is murdered the same way her brother was, who can she possibly trust?

A decade ago, Delaney Broward discovered her brother’s murdered body at the San Antonio art co-op he founded with friends. Her artist boyfriend, Hunter Nash, went to prison for the murder, despite his not-guilty plea.

This morning, Hunter walks out of prison a free man, having served his sentence.

This afternoon, Delaney finds her best friend dead, murdered in the same fashion as her brother.

Stay out of it or you're next, the killer warns.

Hunter never stopped loving Delaney, though he can’t blame her for not forgiving her. He knows he’ll get his life back one day at a time, one step at a time. But he’s blindsided to realize he’s a murder suspect. Again.

When Hunter shows up on her doorstep asking her to help him find the real killer, Delaney’s head says to run away, yet her heart tells her there’s more to his story than what came out in the trial. An uneasy truce leads to their probe into a dark past that shatters Delaney’s image of her brother. She can’t stop and neither can Hunter—which lands them both in the crosshairs of a murderer growing more desperate by the hour.

In this gripping romantic suspense, Kelly Irvin plumbs the complexity of broken trust in the people we love—and in God—and whether either can be mended.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery, Suspense
Published by: Thomas Nelson
Publication Date: February 8th 2022
Number of Pages: 384
ISBN: 0785231935 (ISBN13: 9780785231936)
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook.com | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER 1

APRIL 22, 2010
SAN ANTONIO ART CO-OP
SOUTHTOWN, SAN ANTONIO

The cloying stench of pot told the same old story.

With an irritated sigh Delaney Broward quickened her pace through the warehouse-turned-art-co-op toward her brother’s studio at the far end of the cavernous hall. On his best days Corey had little sense of time. Add a joint to the mix and he lost his sense not only of time but of responsibility. It also explained why he didn’t answer his phone. When he got high and started painting, he wanted no interruptions. His lime-green VW van was parked cattywampus across two spaces in the lot that faced Alamo Street just south of downtown San Antonio. He might be physically present, but his THC-soaked mind had escaped its cell.

Marijuana served as his muse and taskmaster. Or so he’d said.

The soles of her huarache sandals clacking on the concrete floor sounded loud in Delaney’s ears. “Corey? Corey! You were supposed to pick us up at Ellie’s. Come on, dude. She’s waiting.”

No answer.

At this rate Delaney would never get to Night in Old San Antonio, affectionately known to most local folks as NIOSA. Everyone who was anyone knew it was pronounced NI-O-SA, long I and long O, the best party-slash-fundraiser during the mother of all parties where her boyfriend would be waiting for her. “Hey, bro, I’m starving. Let’s go.”

Delaney’s phone rang. She slowed and dug it from the pocket of her stonewashed jeans. Speaking of Ellie. “I’m at the co-op now. He’s here.”

Share as little info as possible.

“He’s stoned again, isn’t he? I’m sick of this.” Ellie’s shrill voice rose even higher. “I swear if he stands me up again— ”

“Us. Stands us up.”

“Stood us up again. That will be it. I’m done. I’m done waiting around for him. I’m done playing second fiddle to his self-destructive habits. I’m done with his starving-artist, free-spirit, pothead schtick. The man is a walking stereotype. I’m done with him, period.”

Delaney mouthed the words along with her friend. She knew the lyrics of this lovesick song by heart. The childish rejoinder “It takes one to know one” stuck in her throat. “We’ll be there in twenty. You can tell him yourself.”

Ellie would and then Corey would kiss her until she took it all back. With a final huff Ellie hung up.

The door to his studio— the largest and with the best light because the co-op was Corey’s dream child— stood open. “Seriously, Corey. Think of someone besides yourself once in a while, please.” Delaney strode through the door, ready to ream her brother up one side and down the other. “You are so selfish.”

Delaney halted. At first blush it didn’t make sense. Twisted and smashed canvases littered the floor. Along with paints, brushes, beer bottles, and Thai food take-out cartons.

Wooden easels were broken like toothpicks and scattered on top of the canvases. Someone had splattered red paint over another finished piece— a woman eating a raspa in front of a vendor’s mobile cart, the Alamo in the background.

Delaney’s hands went to her throat. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the odor of human waste gagged her. A fiery shiver started at her toes and raced like a lit fuse to her brain. Her mind took in detail after detail. That way she didn’t have to face the bigger picture staring her in the face. “Please, God, no.”

Even He couldn’t fix this.

She shot forward, stumbled, and fell to her knees. Her legs refused to work. She crawled the remainder of the distance to Corey across a floor marred by still-wet oil paint, beer, and other liquids she couldn’t bear to identify.

He sat with his back against the wall. His long legs clad in paint-splattered jeans sprawled in front of him. His feet were bare. His hands with those thin, expressive fingers lay in his lap. Deep lacerations scored his palms and fingers.

Her throat aching with the effort not to vomit, Delaney forced her gaze to move upward. His T-shirt, once white, now shone scarlet with blood. His blood. Rips in the shirt left his chest exposed, revealing stab wounds— too many to count.

Delaney opened her mouth. Scream. Just scream. Let it out.

No sound emerged.

She crawled alongside her big brother until she could lean her shoulder and head against the wall. “Corey?” she whispered.

His green eyes, fringed by thick, dark lashes that were the envy of every woman he’d ever dated, were open and startled. His skin, always pale and ethereal, had a blue tinge to it.

Delaney drowned in a tsunami of nausea. “Come on, Corey, this isn’t funny. I need you.”

Her teeth chattered. Hands shaking, she touched his throat. His skin was cold. So cold.

Too late, too late, too late. The words screamed in her head. Stop it. Just stop it. “You can’t be dead. You’re not allowed to die.”

Mom and Dad had died in a car wreck a week past her eighth birthday. Nana and Pops had taken their turns the year Delaney turned eighteen. Everybody she cared about died.

Not Corey. Delaney punched in 9–1–1.

The operator’s assurance that help was on the way did nothing to soothe Delaney. She sat cross-legged and dragged Corey’s shoulders and head into her lap. She had to warm him up. “Tell them to hurry. Tell them my brother needs help.”

“Yes, ma’am. They’re en route.”

“Tell them he’s all I’ve got.”

CHAPTER 2

TEN YEARS LATER
NASH RESIDENCE, SAN ANTONIO

Real men didn’t cry. Not even during a reunion with a beloved truck.

Swallowing hard, Hunter Nash wrapped his fingers around the keys, concentrating on the feel of the metal pressing into his skin. He cleared his throat. “Thanks, Mom. For keeping it all these years.”

His mom didn’t bother to try to hide her tears. She wiped her plump cheeks on a faded dish towel, offered him a tremulous smile, and bustled down the sidewalk that led from the house on San Antonio’s near west side where Hunter had grown up to the detached two-car garage in the back. It had housed his truck for the past eight years. Almost ten if he counted the two years it took for his case to go to trial. He had no place to go in those years when he’d allegedly been innocent until proven guilty. His friends no longer friends and his job gone, he had no need for transportation.

The door to the garage was padlocked. Mom handed him the key. “My hands are shaking. You’d better do the honors.” She stepped back. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“I did my time, Ma.” As a model prisoner he’d earned time off for good behavior. It was easy for a guy to behave when he spent his days and nights scared spitless.

“I know. All those nights I’ve lain in bed worrying about you in that place, whether you were safe, if you were hurt, if you were sick.” Her voice broke. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

“Me neither.”

It wasn’t over. In fact, it was just beginning, but she didn’t need to know that. His determination to prove his innocence would only worry her more. A divorced mother of four, she’d raised her kids on a teacher’s salary and an occasional child support check from the crud-for-brains ex-husband who showed up once every couple of years in an attempt to make nice with his kids. She deserved a break.

The aging manual garage door squeaked and protested when Hunter yanked on the handle. He needed to do some work around here, starting with applying some WD-40. The smell of mold and old motor oil wafted from the dark interior. Hunter slipped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust. A layer of dust covered the 2002 midnight-blue Dodge RAM 1500, but otherwise it remained in the pristine condition in which he’d left it the night he said goodbye and promised he’d be back. “My baby.”

More tears trickling down her face, Mom chuckled softly. “After you finish reintroducing yourself, come back inside. I’m making your favorite chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, pineapple coleslaw, and creamed corn. Your brother and sisters are coming over after work. Shawna’s bringing a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Melissa’s contribution is three kinds of ice cream, including rocky road. She said it seemed appropriate. I hope you haven’t lost your sense of humor. And you know Curtis. He’s all about the beer.”

The last thing Hunter wanted to do was celebrate with his sibs. Mel and Shawna had visited faithfully at first, but less as the years rolled by. Curtis never showed, even though Fabian Dominguez State Jail was only a few miles down the road from San Antonio.

Nor did Hunter want to explain why he’d sworn off alcohol. The conditions of his parole included monthly pee tests— no alcohol or drugs, but that part of his life was over anyway. It had been easy to comply in prison, obviously. Whether he could maintain his sobriety in the beer drinking capital of the country remained to be seen. He’d do AA if necessary. “Mom— ”

“No buts. They’re family. They love you. You need to live life, enjoy life, make up for all you’ve missed. You haven’t even met most of your nieces and nephews. Did you know Mel is expecting another baby in August?”

“Yes, I— ”

“Today we celebrate your new job and your new life.”

His bachelor of fine arts with an emphasis in drawing and painting from Southwest School of Art might once have allowed him to teach art in one of the school districts, but not anymore.

It didn’t matter. The prison chaplain had hooked him up with Pastor James. The preacher ran a faith-based community center that served at-risk youth. He’d hired Hunter to teach art to those who’d already had their first brush with the law. He figured Hunter could teach life lessons at the same time he introduced them to art as a way to channel their anger at the hand life had dealt them. Learning what happened when a guy got off track would be the lesson.

Even though Hunter hadn’t gotten off the track. He’d been shoved off it. By an eager-beaver, newbie detective; a green-as-a-Granny-Smith-apple public defender; and an assembly-line justice system.

He would get by in this world that had hung him out to dry. Especially knowing Mom had his back. She had that don’t-mess-with-me teacher look in her burnt-amber eyes. Like her sixth graders, Hunter knew better than to argue. It felt good to know she remained in his corner. When everyone else had hit the ground, scattering in opposite directions, she never budged in her belief that son number two could not be a murderer. She’d brought him up better than that.

“You’re right. Give me a few minutes.”

She patted his chest and stretched on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Her lips were chapped, and the wrinkles had deepened around her mouth and eyes. Her long hair had gone pure white during his years away. “Take your time, sweetheart.”

Hunter gritted his teeth. After years of looking over his shoulder, bobbing and weaving around hard-core convicts who’d as soon shank a guy in the shower as look at him, he didn’t know how to cope with nice. With sweet. With love tempered with wisdom and a hard life.

“One day at a time.” That’s what the prison chaplain had told him. “Get through the next minute, the next hour, the next day.” That’s how he did eight years at Dominguez. This couldn’t be any harder. He opened the truck’s door and slid into the driver’s seat. The faint odor of pine air freshener greeted him. And citrus.

More likely that was his imagination. Delaney’s perfume simply could not linger that long. Move on. She has. She did. To her credit Delaney held on as long as she could— until the guilty verdict. Then she was forced to move on. She couldn’t be blamed for that.

Hunter picked up the sketch pad on the passenger seat. In those days he kept one everywhere. Just in case. The first page. The second. The third. All drawings of Delaney. Sweet Laney eating a slice of watermelon at a Fourth of July celebration. Laney rocking Hunter’s newborn nephew in a hickory rocker on the front porch. Laney in a bathing suit sitting on the dock at Medina Lake. Laney with her soulful eyes, long sandy-brown hair, and air of sad vulnerability worn like a pair of old jeans that fit perfectly. That too-big nose, wide mouth, and pointed chin. Corey might have been the angelic beauty— totally unfair— but Delaney’s face had character. She had a face Hunter never ceased to want to draw and paint.

And kiss.

He turned the pages slowly, allowing the memories to have their way with him. Meeting at a party Corey had thrown when Delaney was a senior in high school. Their first date, ribs and smoked chicken with heart-stopping creamed corn, potato salad, coleslaw, and jalapeños at Rudy’s Country Store and Bar-B-Q followed by dancing at Leon Springs Dance Hall.

She had danced with the abandon of a small child. As if she didn’t care who watched. Her face glowed with perspiration. Her green eyes sparkled with happiness. His two left feet couldn’t keep up, but she didn’t mind. She twirled her peasant skirt as she flew around him, her hands in the air, her curves beckoning.

Hunter closed his eyes. Her softness enveloped him. Her sweetness surrounded him.

He needed to see her again. He needed to talk to her. Somehow he had to prove to her that she was wrong about him. Whatever it took. He laid the sketchbook aside. “Come on, dude, let’s take a ride.”

He stuck the key in the ignition and turned it.

Nothing. Not even a tick-tick-tick. He tried a second time. Nada. “I’m an idiot.” He patted the steering wheel. “Not your fault, man.”

The truck hadn’t been driven in years. The battery was dead. He might be able to jump it, but more likely he’d need a new one. Batteries cost money.

One thing at a time. He’d waited this long.

Hunter slid from the truck and eased the door closed. “I’ll be back when I get my act together.”

In the kitchen Hunter found his mom peeling potatoes. She pointed the peeler at him. “You can’t imagine how good it feels to have you home.”

“You can’t imagine how good it feels to be here.” He landed a kiss on her soft hair. She smelled of Pond’s cold cream. The same old comforting scent. Life had changed but not her. “I’m gonna take a walk. I need to blow the prison stink off.”

“Enjoy. They redid the walking trail at the lake and installed new outdoor fitness equipment.” She waved the paring knife in the air. “But don’t stay too long. You have company coming.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pantomimed a mock salute and headed for the front door.

One thing at a time. One step at a time. That’s how he’d get his life back.

***

Excerpt from Trust Me by Kelly Irvin. Copyright 2022 by Kelly Irvin. Reproduced with permission from Thomas Nelson. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Kelly Irvin is a bestselling, award-winning author of over twenty novels and stories. A retired public relations professional, Kelly lives with her husband, Tim, in San Antonio. They have two children, three grandchildren, and two ornery cats.

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Bewitching a Highlander by Roma Cordon

Today Roma Cordon, CamCat Books, and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the cover for BEWITCHING A HIGHLANDER, her debut Historical Fantasy Romance which releases June 7, 2022! Check out the awesome cover and enter the giveaway!

 

On to the reveal!

About the Book:

Title: BEWITCHING A HIGHLANDER (A Scottish Highland Warriors Novel #1)

Author: Roma Cordon

Pub. Date: June 7, 2022

Publisher: CamCat Books

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook

Pages: 368

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, iBooks, Kobo, TDB, Bookshop.com

 

Defying all for the love of a bewitching lass.

Breena MacRae, a healer from Skye with a touch of witchery in her blood, embarks on a dangerous search for her missing father. She arrives on the Isle of Coll, seat of the vile Campbells. There, she encounters the debonair future chief to the Dunbar Clan, Egan, who rescues her from a Campbell sentry.

Egan Dunbar is on Coll to keep the peace between the feuding Campbells and Dunbars. But when he catches Breena in a lie, he agrees to help her find her father to pay back an old debt and get to the bottom of the secrets she's hiding.

As their attraction for each ignites like a firestorm, Breena and Egan realize a future together could trigger deadly consequences—a clan war between the Campbells and the Dunbars. Is Egan willing to betray his clan for love, even though he knows Breena is keeping secrets from him? Can Breena trust him with her family secret and put those she loves at risk? 

 

 

Excerpt:

CHAPTER

1

“You have witchcraft in your lips. . .”

—William Shakespeare, Henry V.

October 28, 1747—Isle of Coll, Scotland

Breena MacRae’s heart beat out of tune from the cacophony of their wagon’s rattling. Sixteen horse hooves trampled the knurled road, pulling them southwest toward the  Campbells’ keep, a clan she blamed for most of her childhood miseries.  Three weeks ago, she’d awoken from nineteen years of delusions, yet  it was no less painful living the truth. Her parents had neither died in  some horrific accident nor left because of her. Breena was after all the  most deplorable witch the MacRaes and Maxwells ever had the lamentable fortune to beget.  

Uncle Craig leaned over and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. The  clumsy yet affectionate gesture grounded her. It rid her of her punishing  thoughts. 

“We aught to go over the plan again.”  

She would always be obliged to him and Aunt Madeline. They’d  been her guardians since she was six, although many times since then,  despite the fact that she loved them both with all her heart, they’d made  her want to either scream or blaspheme.  

Sometimes both. 

His familiar features reminded her of her mother’s, his little sister. “All right, but understanding the need to lie doesn’t make it any less  difficult,” she said.  

“Difficult it may be, but it will keep us alive.” 

She huffed. He was too cautious. Or was she not cautious enough? Breena blinked up as the afternoon sun reconsidered slipping pass  horizontal puffs of clouds. 

Mayhap she herself should reconsider her decision to come here. No. Even if there was a remote possibility her father was alive, she  had to attempt to find him. She had to free him. Her heart ached for all he  must have endured. She’d believed him dead for the past nineteen years,  until three weeks ago, when lovable yet scatterbrained Aunt Madeline  had let slip the truth. After suffering from dysentery and a bout of guilt,  her aunt had blurted out that Ian might still be alive. Had Aunt Made line known she wasn’t at death’s door, she might have been more steadfast in her secrecy. Craig and Madeline had insisted her parents wanted  the truth kept from her all this time. The secrecy and deception might  have been the stimulant for her childhood misery, but it hadn’t been the  cause. Nonetheless, it had resulted in long, wasted years.  Her dream from the previous night replayed in her mind. Beloved  Grandmother Sorcha, their majestic matriarch, had told her Ian had  something to reveal. If Breena believed dreams were a sign of things to  come, then it was a sign her father was indeed alive. But she didn’t know  if she believed in dreams. After all, she lacked the gift of second sight. The revered Sorcha on the other hand wielded her own gift of sight like a true  proficient, when she was alive. 

A chilled hollowness speared her innards, causing a shiver to run up  her spine. It had been her tormentor since she was six. Often she paused  and wondered what had slipped her mind, what she had forgotten—perhaps she’d missed something. Then it would hit her. She hadn’t missed  anything, hadn’t forgotten anything, nothing had slipped her mind. It was  only that her parents had vanished, without a word, leaving an acute aching void. She pulled her woolen arisaid tighter around her shoulders and  prayed not only that their scheme would work on the Campbells but that  she could rid herself of this ache in the pit of her belly, once and for all. 

She gazed out the wagon as the panoply that was the Isle of Coll  rolled by. The crisp October breeze swept her cheeks as she eyed the  chestnut-feathered corncrakes scavenging the beachgrass-infested sand  dunes. Nature’s russets, umbers, and olives, always vibrant at home on  the Isle of Skye, were starved for luster here on Coll.  

A lone angler in the distance slumped his shoulders in a small skiff,  then gazed up at the sky as if beseeching heavenly bodies for a boon be fore casting a net onto the surface of the ocean. The earthiness of the  damp ground below mingling with the briny sea air and the pungency  of kelps filled her nostrils as she inhaled a cleansing breath. She was well  acquainted with the pain of unanswered pleas. Well, mayhap the tide was  changing for them both. 

When she caught the incessant tapping of her fingers on the side of  the wagon, she pulled her hand back into her lap.  

“I’ll wager they don’t even remember the name Beth MacRae after nineteen years.” Breena fought against the agonizing emotions that  flooded her every time she said her mother’s name. 

Craig’s brown eyes looked back at her from beneath shaggy brows,  the slight impatience that twitched his cheek muscles highlighting his wrinkles. “That’s a wager I’ll not be taking, for the price of losing is finding our necks at the wrong end of a noose.” 

George, her uncle’s worker, flipped the reins up ahead with a sharp,  practiced snap. A throaty intake of breath escaped his mouth. “Holy  Saints. It looks haunted.” 

Breena’s head snapped up to follow his gaze. The back of her neck  prickled. Castle Carragh loomed grim on the horizon. George was as  strong as a feral goat but simpleminded. 

“There are no such things as ghosts, she said.” But from her sudden  inability to swallow, she wasn’t sure she believed her own attempt to as suage his fears.  

If the builders of this castle had meant to strike terror into its visitors, they’d carried out their goal to perfection. The shadows cast by Carragh against the backdrop of the setting sun stretched out toward them  like crooked talons, warning them to keep away.  

She ignored the warning and said a silent plea that they were not too  late, that her father was still alive. 

As they approached the castle’s outer gates, Breena made out two  menacing sentries dressed in threadbare tartan trews of blue and green,  the colors of the Campbell clan. They were each outfitted with a sword,  mace, and a flintlock rifle; were they preparing for war? George pulled  their wagon up closer to the gate, reined in the horses, and lowered his  head, awaiting instructions. It always caused Breena such disquiet to  see such a large man lower his head like that. She had known George  for close to a decade, since he’d come to work for Craig, and despite his  broad, hulking body he was the gentlest person Breena had ever met.  

When one of the sentries at the gate brandished his sword, Breena’s dry gulp refused to be suppressed. His flared nostrils and squinting  eyes made his pugnacious expression more acute. Did he wish to intimidate them? If so, he’d gotten his wish. The other sentry snarled, exposing crooked incisors, as he scratched his crotch. Breena eased the tension  in her face into what she hoped was a pleasant smile, even as her fingers curled against her damp palms. The squinty-eyed sentry scowled.  “What’s your business here?”  

“I’m Craig Maxwell. I’m a healer and spice merchant. May we be of  service to your clan?”  

Neither Squinty Eyes nor Crooked Incisors was impressed by her  uncle’s request. Squinty Eyes spat on the ground, his scowl deepening.  He sauntered to the back of their wagon and started sifting through their  supplies.  

All of a sudden he lifted his sword high in the air and brought it  down in an echoing crash on the lock of a trunk. Breena gasped out loud  in surprise.  

Craig jumped down from the wagon and stumbled toward Squinty  Eyes. “I’ll show you whatever you wish, but there’s no cause to break our  trunks.”  

Squinty Eyes raised his hand, still gripping the sword and slammed  the hilt down, with a dull thud, into Craig’s jaw. Breena’s body froze with  horror. Her uncle teetered backward and fell to the ground, landing on  his rump.  

“Unc—Father!”  

Dread rose up her gullet as she jumped down from the wagon, almost buckling at the knees, landing with more force than anticipated.  She ignored the approaching thunder of hooves and rushed toward  Craig. She couldn’t lose him too. She just couldn’t. She took hold of  Craig’s arms and helped him from the ground. 

“Are you hurt?”  

Her uncle’s mouth was open, his gaze flat. She took some of his  weight as he leaned against her. He was in shock. There was blood at the  side of his mouth, at the end of an ugly cut, where he’d been struck. A sharp pang of fear speared her midriff as she reached into her pocket for  a clean square of linen and, with a gentle touch, dabbed the blood away.  Her uncle’s worker approached them with hesitant steps.  Breena sent him a cursory glance, noting the fear in his bulging eyes  when he saw Squinty Eyes. 

“George, why don’t you remain with the horses?” Breena said. His head bobbed. “Yes, mistress.” 

George understood horses, but he had difficulty with people. She returned her attention to Craig. She took hold of her uncle’s  chin, avoiding the darkening bruise that was now a stark contrast to his  pale skin. She inspected the wound as she gently followed his jaw line  with her fingers all the way to his neck. Nothing broken. She closed her  eyes and exhaled a breath of relief.  

Craig was a graying man of eight and fifty with a slim build, whereas  Squinty Eyes was younger and more than twice the size of her uncle.  Breena ground her teeth when another drop of blood fell from Craig’s  mouth. Her pulse raced with heated indignation. How dare this barbaric  bully strike Craig? How dare he block them from entering this atrocious  castle? It’s not as if there were endless visitors clamoring for entrance.  Losing her parents and years of this aching void pushed her to retaliate.  But she couldn’t. They were at the utter mercy of this insolent sentry to  gain entrance to the Campbells’ keep. He held their fate and her father’s  life in his hands, a fact he was utterly unaware of.  

As she tended to Craig, a loud snigger pierced the air. She swung  around to see Squinty Eyes dangling a gossamer shift off the tip of his  sword, right above the now-broken trunk. He jutted his flaccid chin in  Breena’s direction as he addressed Craig. 

“You let me have a roll in the hay with the lass and I’ll let you in.” Breena’s eyes narrowed at the crude proposition. The insult dug  in. Her heart rate quickened as self-preservation and a survival instinct unfurled inside her. The heat of it spread throughout her entire body like  a wave of sickness, making her shake. “You bastard.”  

Rationality went out the window as she took two steps forward and  dealt a resounding slap across the sniggering face of Squinty Eyes. He  was caught off guard, judging by the way his mouth fell open and his  head jerked back. His odious stench made Breena want to pinch the tip  of her nose shut and breathe through her mouth.  

But then, coldness sank into her stomach. Oh no. No. What had she  done? She blinked, trying to swallow against the rising bile, and stepped  back.  

She would never forgive herself if they were barred entrance because  of her foolhardy actions. She’d never done anything like that before.  What was the matter with her? The earlier mention of a noose burned  her ears. 

Squinty Eyes recovered. He grunted and swore as he grabbed her.  His grip, like cold steel, dug into her soft flesh. He wrenched her right  arm forward. Her mouth tightened with defiance as she glared at him.  Even as her right shoulder was at risk of dislocating under his granite  hold, she held her chin high. She would not give this bully the satisfaction of seeing her cower.  

“You brazen wench, how dare you strike me?”  

His eyes bulged, and spittle escaped from his mouth. She tugged  and pulled to no avail as the pounding of horses’ hooves reverberated in  the air around them. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a towering, broad-shouldered Highland warrior dismounting from the blackest  stallion she’d ever seen.  

He stormed Squinty Eyes from behind.

 

 

About Roma Cordon:

Roma Cordon was introduced to romance novels in her teenage years and instantly became a voracious reader of the genre. In the 1990s, she came to live in New York where she earned her undergraduate and graduate degrees. After taking a writing course at New York University with Anne Rice, she dived into the world of writing while testing the waters at public speaking at her local Toastmasters club. By day, Roma works in the finance industry; in the evenings and weekends, she is a passionate romance writer. She also writes on her blog romacordon.com.

 

Inspiration for Roma’s debut novel, Bewitching a Highlander came from trips to Scotland with her husband. Roma is an active member of the RWA-NYC Chapter and lives in New York with her husband where they care for two adorable furry friends adopted from local shelters.

 

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