After hundreds of years, the gates to Tarragon are open once more, fulfilling age-old prophecy. However, Anwen’s journey is far from over. The dragons still sleep and she has no clue how to wake them. Forced to retreat from the Mountain, she and her newfound friends must devise a new plan to wake the inhabitants of Tarragon.Meanwhile, the Mage Circle, a group of dragon mages with a vendetta, is camped outside the Gates. Calling on allies of their own, they will stop at nothing to gain control of the Dragon City and all who dwell inside.
To complicate matters even more, Anwen’s mother has joined the party. But even with the help of all her friends, can Anwen overcome the ordeals set before her or will this spell the end of the dragons and the world as we know it?
Karlie Lucas is a preschool teacher by day and a writer/artist by night.A graduate of Southern Utah University, Karlie received a B.A. in Creative Writing, with a minor in art. She is a member of Sigma Tau Delta, The International English Honor Society, as well as ANWA, the American Night Writers Association.
Karlie is interested in all things magical and mysterious, especially elves and dragons. She is an avid fan of J.R.R. Tolkien and J.K. Rowling.
When not writing, Karlie can often be found drawing, baking, watching her favorite old school shows, or just spending time with her family.
She currently resides in Dallas, Texas with her husband and a cat named Kally.
Anwen moved to stand, arms down at her sides as she stared ahead, ignoring his reaching hand. “I can see the trees,” she continued. “And the particles that make them. They’re the same. The same as the ones that make up you and me. Like small planets circling miniature suns. I can see the smallest details.” Her eyes widened in awe. “It’s beautiful.”
Tyler stepped forward to stand beside her. Sometimes the plant had allowed such vision, but the cost was usually high. More than a handful with similar sight had gone blind from the experience. That was why it was better for mortals to “hear” everything rather than see it. He only hoped there would be no such resulting repercussions in this instance.
Concentrating, Tyler tried to reach out to the part of his soul that resided within hers. His soul gaze was met with an aura of brilliant golden light, entwined with hints of red and blue. Silver flashed throughout, like a protective cage made of lightning. It seemed to dare anyone to try and displace it.
Anwen turned towards Tyler. The morning sunlight glinted off her auburn hair like little sparks of fire. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, her lips meeting his. Both their hearts thumped like drums in perfect harmony. Despite that, Tyler stood frozen in shock. The kiss was brief but oh so sweet as she pulled away. “You taste like summer,” she observed with a wistful sigh.
Tyler felt rooted to the ground, his eyes wide at her rather unexpected advance. “Um,” he managed, looking at her. “Thank you?” Her eyes had returned to their normal coloring, he noticed. That was a good sign. Perhaps she wouldn’t go blind after all.
Click the links below to join the events for the Next book in the Series!!!
A too-young queen must learn to control her powers in order to save her empire, but can she trust the man who’s taught her to use her gift?
Grab your copy of WEB OF FROST and add it to your TBR pile on Goodreads! Then keep reading to get an EXCLUSIVE sneak peek at WEB OF FROST!
Title: Web of Frost
Author: Lindsay Smith
Genre: YA Fantasy
Release Date: February 13, 2018
Publisher: Eventide Press
Series: The Saints of Russalka
Page Count: 402 pages
Format: Digitial
ASIN: B078X1K8VP
ISBN-13: 9781370549054
The saints of Russalka work their blessings in mysterious ways, allowing the royal family to perform miracles for their people. But the young princess Katza fears her powers. She’s seen grave visions of her bloodied hands destroying her family’s empire. When her older brother succumbs to illness, leaving her next in line for the throne, Katza turns to a young rebellious prophet named Ravin who promises to teach her how to control her gift. As unrest grows in Russalka and a foreign monarchy threatens, Ravin understands Katza’s fears and helps her find confidence in her gift, and her own heart. Under Ravin’s unorthodox training, Katza learns to hear the saints once more—until revolutionaries claim her father’s life.
Reeling and desperate, Katza draws upon darker and darker powers to stop the revolutionaries, the foreign invaders, and the members of her own court who would see her fail. But the more Ravin whispers in her ear, the more Katza questions whether he—and the saints—have her best interests at heart. She must choose between her love of Ravin and her love of Russalka itself—and decide whether her empire might not be better off without her.
Ravin stood silent in the doorway, his clasped hands a speck of pale flesh against the black velvet of his coat and trousers. Her thoughts soared at the sight of him. She needed his counsel to make sense of her latest vision. She needed his guidance. She needed—him.
She tangled her fingers in the bedsheets and twisted them, uncomfortable with the sudden yearning that pricked at her skin.
“Prophet.” Katza’s voice cracked. She turned toward the physicker. “Please, allow us to speak privately.”
The physicker exchanged looks with Nadika, who hovered in the corner of the bedchamber. Nadika nodded, and the physicker gathered his bag and left.
Ravin moved inside, quiet as snow, and closed the door. Nadika posted herself in the doorway as he sat in the physicker’s chair at Katza’s side. Dark crescents lurked under his eyes, and his skin looked more pallid than usual. Katza felt a sudden urge to brush those crescents with her thumbs, as if they were smudges she could wipe away.
“Are you all right?” Ravin asked softly. “I’ve been worried for you. I prayed for you all evening.”
Embers flared on Katza’s cheeks as she imagined him kneeling in the chapel . . . imagined her name on his lips. “I—I’m fine now. But I had a vision.” She pitched her voice low. “A new one. There was gunfire, or cannons perhaps, in the distance. And I was bleeding.” She gripped her stomach instinctively. “I think in the vision I’d been shot.”
Ravin pressed his palms together and tapped the tips of his fingers to his mouth. “It was similar to other visions of yours, was it not?”
Katza’s jaw clenched. For a moment, she was afraid to speak, so she nodded instead. She still wasn’t prepared to tell him about her recurring vision—the one she’d first feared this might be, too. He’d hinted before that he knew of it already, but how was that possible? Had the saints warned him as well? Better to keep it to herself until she could be sure.
“Yes. I sense this is a common theme for you.” He glanced down. “I believe that Boj is warning you—warning that great strife is coming to Russalka. That if you are not prepared to confront it, you will not survive.”
A horrifying possibility, to be sure. Yet it was better than the vision she’d been plagued with before. If she couldn’t find a way to stop the strife, though, would Russalka still perish? Whether it was at her hands or not, it had to be stopped.
“And if I am prepared?” Katza asked.
“Then it can be avoided.” The angles of his face softened by a fraction. Katza’s gaze traced the delicate swoop from his cheek toward his mouth and lips, the hollows beneath his cheekbones. “You have been chosen by Boj to do great things. Greater even than most Silovs are capable of.” He looked right at her, something gleaming in his eyes. Something like awe. “But your training has been stunted.”
Katza squeezed her eyes shut to guard against a rush of despair. “It’s my fault. My visions—I thought they were warning me not to step above my place.”
“You thought they warned you not to act?” he asked. “And yet they continued? Tsarechka . . . I think perhaps they were warning you of the cost of inaction.”
Katza choked back a sour laugh. When she opened her eyes again, Ravin was watching her, his face warm despite that leeching cold in his eyes. She wanted to believe him. Desperately. She couldn’t put into words, though, the vision’s warning—the certainty she’d felt of its message. That she was doomed to be Russalka’s death.
But maybe she was wrong. She yearned to be wrong. Maybe, with Ravin’s aid, she could avoid its grim outcome.
“You are unprepared now, but you will learn. With the right training, you can save Russalka.”
Her gaze drifted down his face and along the long, stern line of his arms. His hands, so like a sculptor’s, dexterous and slim. This close to him, she smelled incense on his clothes, spiced like cinnamon and cloves. She wanted to wrap herself in that scent. Throat tight, she reached out for his hand. At first he tensed, but then his shoulders softened, and a smile teased his mouth. Their fingers knitted together, and she let the weight of her hand sink into his.
Lindsay is the author of the young adult novels Sekret, Dreamstrider, and A Darkly Beating Heart, and is the showrunner and lead writer for Serial Box’s The Witch Who Came In From the Cold. Her work has appeared on Tor.com and in the anthologies A Tyranny of Petticoats, Strange Romance Vol. 3, and Toil & Trouble, and she has written for Green Ronin Publishing’s RPG properties. She lives in Washington, DC with her husband and dog.
A girl who can’t remember. A book you won’t forget.
From debut author Margarita Montimore.
Astrid can’t remember the best day of her life: yesterday.
A traumatic car accident erases Astrid s memories of September 9th, the day she spent with an oddly charming stranger named Theo. Ever since, she’s been haunted by surreal dreams and an urgent sense that she’s forgotten something important.
One night, she gets a mysterious call from Oliver, who knows more about her than he should and claims he can help her remember. She accepts his help, even as she questions his motives and fights a strange attraction to him.
In order to find Theo and piece together that lost day in September, Astrid must navigate a maze of eccentric Boston nightlife, from the seedy corners of Chinatown to a drug-fueled Alice-in-Wonderland-themed party to a club where everyone dresses like the dead.
In between headaches and nightmares, she struggles to differentiate between memory, fantasy, and reality, and starts to wonder if Theo really exists. Eventually, she ll need to choose between continuing her search for him or following her growing feelings for Oliver.
Astrid might go to extreme lengths to find what she’s lost… or might lose even more in her pursuit to remember (like her sanity).
“Simply riveting from start to finish… a captivating, literary piece that winds a path somewhere between mystery, romance, and psychological thriller.” — D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
“A compelling and original take on the classic amnesia tale . . . The narrative bursts with detailed, vivid characters . . . The dialogue is expertly crafted.” – The BookLife Prize
“There is so much to love about this book. The writing is wonderful… The joy of this book is following all of its twists and turns and going on Astrid’s journey with her as she tries to determine what is real and what isn’t.” — GSMC Book Review
“This book ticked all my boxes: unusual narrative structure, setting as a character, witty banter, and whip-smart writing… I loved it, and I’ll be thinking about it for a long time.”
— Rachel Lynn Solomon, author of You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone
“Every part of this book was confidently crafted to create this dreamy, charismatic experience of being utterly submerged in a mystery and desperately seeking truth.”
— Michelle Hazen, author of A Cruel Kind of Beautiful
Outside a pizza place is a pay phone. Who else can I call? Hand on receiver, before I can decide, the phone rings. I pull back, like I’ve been burned.
Briiiiiing!!! Briiiiiing!!!
There’s absolutely nobody around, no one who might be waiting for a call.
Briiiiiing!!!
“Hello?” Why am I answering the phone? It’s not like—
“Astrid?”
If déjà vu is a feather down the spine, this sensation is a razor.
I must have misheard.
“Astrid, are you there?” The same male voice from my dream, the static now on my end in the form of the noisy downpour.
“Who is this?” I ask. “How did you know I would answer the phone?”
Before he replies, tranquility trickles into my veins like one of those lovely drugs pumped into me at the hospital. Of course. There’s no need to worry about any of it. This is just another dream.
“You’ll find out who I am soon enough,” he says. “There are more important things you need to deal with first.”
“Sure there are. Like what kind of snack I’ll have when I wake up.”
A pause on his end. “You’re not dreaming, Astrid.”
It stops raining, abruptly.
“The car accident, the fire, your friend’s overdose,” he continues, “All of those are real things.”
“Who are you? You’re scaring me.” I look around, expect to see someone lurking in a dark trench coat.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have called. But I wanted… to reassure you, tell you you’ll get through this. I’ll be able to help you more later on.”
“Do you…” My mouth is parched, my voice hoarse. “Do you go by your middle name?” I clear my throat, hold onto the phone with both hands. “Please tell me your name.”
“You already know my name, Astrid. You just need to remember it. But first, you need to find a place to sleep.”
“You mean a place to wake up. Right here would be perfect.”
He sighs. “Don’t do that. Don’t deny what’s real.”
How am I supposed to tell the difference?
“Astrid, you’re going to be fine. That’s all I wanted to tell you. We’ll speak again soon.”
The line goes dead.
Author Bio:
Margarita Montimore received a BFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College. She worked for over a decade in publishing and social media before deciding to focus on the writing dream full-time. She has blogged for Marvel, Google, Quirk Books, and XOJane.com. When not writing, she freelances as a book coach and editor. She grew up in Brooklyn but currently lives in a different part of the Northeast with her husband and dog.
Margarita writes upmarket/literary fiction that tends to be left of center and flirt with multiple genres. While she loves all things dark, strange, and surreal, she’s also optimistic—verging on quixotic—and a pop culture geek, so her work tends to incorporate all those elements to varying degrees.
I have found my dream lover and, appropriately, his name is Morpheus. He has shown me how to be truly free in my sexuality; to trust another human being with my deepest desires; and to love without reservation or fear. We have a true power exchange when we play – no, we do not play, we live! Our lives and our sexual lifestyle have evolved so that one constantly compliments the other. I can’t imagine a happier, more fulfilling life.
Then, my world tilts on its axis.
Reality returns with a vengeance. My lover becomes ill and I find myself fighting for my former, happy life. Morpheus is ambivalent to his fate. He is more concerned with my future happiness without him. His abhorrence to leave me “a Widow” again, alone and afraid, leads him to formulate a plan to send me into the arms of another man. But his desperate longings to see me in passion’s embrace make him take the role of a cuckold. He has picked the man to help me if he should not survive, but it’s a double-edged sword as he forces himself to watch me falling deeper into the arms of the man he has chosen to replace him in all ways.
My guilt and longing for this man sends me to seek the help of an old friend. While I am welcomed with open arms, the lovely Bianca has plans of her own. In the end, it is up to Morpheus to either release me into the arms of new lovers, or allow me to ease his Lustful Longings in a new way.
I lounge upon the chaise, sipping sparkling champagne as the New Year begins. My lover is poised on the tufted velvet arm, his fingers gliding along the exposed skin of my collarbone. The mirrored walls reflect the beauty of our surroundings and the people within. The chandeliers twinkle brightly near the mahogany ceiling, the gilt and glamour of the 1920’s permeates this particular party, and yet, the myriad collection of apparatuses for bondage, pain, and pleasure take up most of the room. A surrealistic interpretation of the predilections (or perhaps peculiarities is a better word), of the Master of House.
And here we sit in the middle of it all, my lover and me. He is adorned in the requisite tuxedo, it is a formal affair after all, with the only nod to the true nature of this gathering, a slim crop in his hand. He told me he really should have a walking stick to complete the outfit, but I wasn’t quite ready for that type of fun yet.
While he was the epitome of formal elegance, I, on the other hand, was resplendent in a red satin Merrywidow with black lace overlay and pretty red bows fastening the finest silk stockings that encased my legs. Black opera gloves covered my hands and arms, pearl bracelets and ruby rings adding charm. The large ruby and gold earrings that swayed when I turned my head and the diamond clip that held back my hair were the real thing.
My Master was a generous man and wanted everyone to know it, so for me it was jewelry; for others, it was a simple offer to one and all to sample the delight he was privileged to call his own. So, I sat with him, the corset pushing up my breasts until my nipples tipped the edge of lace and allowed strangers to rub or pinch “the raspberry perfections” that my Master tasted every night. I didn’t mind. There was something quite exciting about another man or woman touching me while my Master looked on. It stirred the recklessness within me and made our love play more explosive.
I smiled to myself and took a sip of the champagne. If the folks back home could see me now. They would raise scandalous eyebrows to the ceiling, send prayers for my sinful ways in the Sunday sermon, and whisper of the “Merry Widow” at the local Moose club. All would be filled with righteous indignation that someone like me had ever graced their idyllic community.
I parted my legs on the chaise as my Master requested, the warm air hitting my nakedness. The scent of my arousal permeated the air while a woman tentatively touched my slick labia. Yes, the old town would be in an outrage at my debauchery. Especially if I ever published my dear diary. More specifically, if I didn’t change the names to protect the not-so-innocent of their town within the pages of my sexual journal. That’s right; although many wore masks to the dungeon parties, I knew who each member or guest was. After all, my Master owned the most exclusive club in town.
I sighed as a wave of pleasure coursed through me while the young woman licked her fingers. I raised my glass as her companion shouted, “To the Widow and her Morpheus! You make all our dreams come true!”
About Maggie Adams:
Maggie Adams is an Amazon Best Selling contemporary romance author. Her first book in the Tempered Steel Series, Whistlin’ Dixie, debuted in Amazon’s Top 100 for Women’s Fiction, humor, on November, 2014. Since then, she has consistently made the Amazon best seller 5-star list with Leather and Lace, Something’s Gotta Give, and Love, Marriage & Mayhem. She is also the recipient of the Dayreader Review’s Best New Series Award for 2015. Her series has launched the tiny town of Grafton, Illinois, into International recognition with sales in Mexico, Ireland, Scotland, Australia and the UK.
Back home, she resides in the Midwest, with her high school sweetheart, Ned, and their children, Katie (Kyle) and Ross (Valerie) and first granddaughter, Lorelei, otherwise known as “The Boss”
Title: Lady Archer’s Creed Series (Books 1-4) Series: Lady Archer’s Creed Author: Christina McKnight, Amanda Mariel Genre: Historical Romance, Regency England Release Date: February 6, 2018 Length: 755 Pages
A love of archery brings four young girls together to form The Lady Archer’s Creed. Through their mutual love of the sport, they solidify an unbreakable bond, and each woman has a unique quality that adds to their dynamic friendship:
Theodora, Lady Archer’s Creed Series (Book One)
Lady Theodora with her sharp mind and love of academics becomes the perfect archery coach. Despite being the last to join their group, and the obvious outcast, she will risk her future for her friends.
Georgina, Lady Archer’s Creed Series (Book Two)
Lady Georgina makes the perfect financier. The forgotten daughter of a wealthy duke, she seeks to belong to something—or someone—by any means necessary.
Adeline, Lady Archer’s Creed Series (Book Three)
Miss Adeline is a natural leader. Having grown up in a large and often spirited family, she now allows no one to place her in the shadows.
Josephine, Lady Archer’s Creed Series (Book Four)
Lady Josephine, having a sweet and impressionable nature, strives to please everyone—and keep their bond intact, even after they return to London for the Season.
Adeline, Georgie, Theo, and Josie live each day by the Lady Archer’s Creed, which they developed during their school days at Miss Emmeline’s School of Education and Decorum for Ladies of Outstanding Quality. “Friendship, loyalty, and honor above all” is their mantra. Now, as they face the challenges that come with adulthood, the creed is more important than ever.
Author Bio:
USA Today Bestselling Author Christina McKnight writes emotional and intricate Regency Romance with strong women and maverick heroes.
Christina enjoys a quiet life in Northern California with her family, her wine, and lots of coffee. Oh, and her books…don’t forget her books! Most days she can be found writing, reading, or traveling the great state of California.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katee Robert delivers the final installment in her sizzling O’Malleys family series, hailed as “The Godfather meets Romeo & Juliet.” In THE BASTARD’S BARGAIN Dmitri Romanov must use his legendary focus and control to stay one step ahead of everyone else in the ever-shifting power plays of New York City.
What readers are saying:
“The Bastard’s Bargain presents a seductive escape and a fulfilling fantasy for that bad boy craving a girl can never outgrow.”—Isha at Book Likes
“Keira and Dmitri are everything. What develops between them is raw and carnal and wanton. The way they need each other and the way they connect is beyond sexy. It’s something deep and dark and heartbreakingly beautiful.”—Eva, Goodreads Reviewer
Meet Dmitri and Keira!
Add THE BASTARD’S BARGAIN to your TBR pile on Goodreads! Then keep reading to get a sneak peek excerpt and to enter the giveaway for a $50 Amazon gift card and Dmitri Romanov scented candle!
Title: The Bastard’s Bargain
Author: Katee Robert
Genre: Dark Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 6, 2018
Publisher: Grand Central/Forever
Series: The O’Malleys
Format: Digitial and Print
ASIN: B071ZYWPL5
Married to the enemy
When Keira O’Malley was a child, she used to picture her perfect wedding. The flowers. The dress. Her husband. But nothing could have prepared her for saying “I do” to Dmitri Romanov-cold, domineering, and always one step ahead of everyone else in the ever-shifting power plays of New York City. She agreed to his bargain to secure peace for her family, and she may want the bastard more than she’d ever admit, but she’ll be damned if she’ll make this marriage easy for him.
Dmitri knows better than to underestimate Keira for one second. Molten desire smolders between them, a dangerous addiction neither can resist. But his enemies are already on the move, and he needs every ounce of his legendary focus and control to keep them alive. Keira could just be his secret weapon-if she doesn’t bring him to his knees first.
Dmitri Romanov didn’t permit himself to breathe a sigh of relief. This was only the first step in a path that could potentially span years. It didn’t matter. Keira was here—was his. He had time.
He watched her look around the inside of the town car, cataloging everything with those witchy hazel eyes of hers. The faint scent of pot filled the car, giving evidence to what she’d been up to when he called. The woman was a mess, but he’d known that from the moment he met her. Dmitri didn’t do projects. He preferred to be the one holding all the cards—it allowed him to anticipate how the people around him would act in any given situation.
He’d never been able to anticipate Keira. Not from the moment she picked his pocket and walked away from him as if she didn’t give a fuck about the danger he posed to her.
Likely because she has a goddamn death wish.
He’d deal with that, just like he’d deal with the rest of Keira’s issues. In time.
Right that moment, time was the one thing they didn’t have. Keira’s oldest brother would be returning to Boston within hours, and Dmitri fully intended to marry her before Aiden realized she was gone. It was significantly more difficult to oust a wife than it was a fiancée.
He had Keira now. He wasn’t going to let anyone take her.
She kicked her feet out, propping her chunky black boots on the seat. The long line of her bare legs drew his gaze up to her tiny sleep shorts. They were barely more than underwear, hugging her hips and ass. Her shirt wasn’t much better, for all that it was long-sleeved. It revealed a slice of pale stomach and was fitted enough that he had absolutely no doubts about the fact that Keira wore no bra. Her small breasts pressed against the fabric, and she shivered beneath the weight of his gaze.
Get control of yourself. He leaned forward and nudged her boots back to the floorboard. Taking Keira was part of the plan—fucking her in the backseat was not. “There’s no need for an adolescent tantrum.”
She laughed, the sound rough and pain filled. “God, would you listen to yourself? You just showed up at my window to lure me into the night—to a chapel—and now you’re bitching about my shoes on the seats? Russian, you have your priorities seriously out of order.” She flicked her long hair off her shoulder. She’d dyed it a harsh blond that seemed designed to highlight how unhealthily skinny she’d become in the last year.
She’s spiraling.
Not anymore.
“Our current situation is no reason to throw propriety out the window.” He sounded stuffy, and he hated it, but with her sitting so close, wearing clothing she’d just been sleeping in…Dmitri dragged in a breath. “Keep your shoes on the floor.”
“Or what?” She turned to face him. The move pulled her shirt even tighter against her chest, revealing the faintest outline of her nipples. Keira saw where his gaze went, and gave a bitter smile. “All the games, all the bullshit, and that hasn’t changed.” She leaned forward and hooked his collar with her finger, drawing him closer despite himself. “Tell me something, Romanov.”
“Hmm?” He dragged his gaze up to her mouth. The wicked curve of her lips was matched only by the words she threw into the space between them with such abandon. The woman wouldn’t know caution if it slapped her in the face.
“You’re dragging me to your cave to be your Bride of Frankenstein.” She shifted closer, her bare leg sliding over his slacks until her thigh came into contact with his cock.
He should move her. Set her back and explain that no matter what she thought of the situation, she wasn’t in control. But the ring he’d put on her finger winked at him, a reminder that Keira wasn’t the sister of his enemy anymore. She was his.
Or she would be in a few short hours.
He bracketed her thigh with a hand, keeping her in place, but didn’t touch her anywhere else. There was no masking his reaction to her, not in their position. Dmitri didn’t bother trying. “Calling me Frankenstein is more than a bit dramatic.”
She looked up at him, her eyes holding a question he didn’t have a satisfying answer to. “I think it’s time to stop being in denial, don’t you?”
He recognized the direction she was headed. “You know I want you. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t.”
Just like that, the shutters slammed down on her expression. She sat back and he let her go, watching her pull herself together. Her spine went ramrod straight, and she stared at the back of the driver’s head rather than at Dmitri. She crossed her arms over her chest. “No lies between us. That’s what you said. You want me, sure, but don’t pretend any of this bullshit has to do with sex. You need to prove what an international badass you are by marrying the sister of your enemy. An eye for an eye—a wife and a sister. Remember?”
He knew exactly what she was quoting. The note he’d had delivered to Aiden O’Malley just over a year ago. By my count, you owe me both a wife and a sister. I’ll be content with one of yours. He hadn’t realized Keira had seen it.
Twin possibilities spun out between them. She was scared and vulnerable, and if he told her that it was her he wanted and not what she represented, she would believe him. It would even be the truth, at least in part. He hadn’t been able to get Keira out of his head from the moment he met her, and he’d manipulated events to ensure they reached this exact moment.
Telling her that wasn’t telling her the full truth, though. This wasn’t some great love story where he’d been pining for her while her family kept them apart. Dmitri wanted her, yes. He craved the feeling of her body beneath his hands, her taste on his tongue, and her smart mouth around his cock.
But his craving her had no real relevance in the grand scheme of things. He needed one of the O’Malley daughters to regain his status after the blows the family had dealt him over the last two years. Keira was the only option left.
Liar.
It didn’t matter what the truth was, full or otherwise. What mattered was ensuring Keira toed the line. He sat back, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock, and studied her. “You knew what this was when you climbed out your window and stepped between me and your brother.”
She finally met his gaze, her hazel eyes fiery in their defiance. “Yes, I did.”
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title, The Marriage Contract, was a RITA finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it ‘a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension.” When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.
Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2018 Margaret Margaret
