Author: Nicole Hart
Release Date: October 25, 2017
Sometimes, weâre taught to hide our truth.
Weâre led to believe itâs our own fault.
As if somehow, we should protect the evil that was unleashed upon us.
Weâre convinced the punishment will swallow us whole.
But maybe, the only way to let go of the fear, is to expose the devil.
Look him in the eyes and give him the F*ck You that heâs always deserved.
Darkness surrounds me.
Flames engulf me.
Born from the ashes.
Like the phoenix,
I will rise.
Nicole Hart is a contemporary romance author with a new love for psychological thriller and mystery. She is a lover of words and story telling. When she's not writing, she loves spending time with her husband and two kids. She's from the one red light town of Boyd, Texas and enjoys life on her old country road. She survives on coffee, sarcasm and old country music.
The Captain’s Rebel
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“What are you doing aboard my ship?”
I swallowed hard, my lip trembling as I fumbled for the words. I didn’t even know where to start, and my face burned as I tried to gather my thoughts. No matter how I told the story, it all seemed so ridiculous.
“Tell me!” he commanded.
“I’m searching for my fiancé.”
He took a step forward, his boots thudding hard on the floor. “Your fiancé.” He took another step, and I flinched. The ship rolled and tumbled beneath my feet, and I grasped onto the panels, my fingers digging into the polished oak planks.
“Are you mad?” His fists clenched at his sides, powerful and trembling.
“It would look that way, sir.” My eyes drilled into a tiny knot on the floor, willing myself to shrink in size so I could dive into it and scurry away like a little mouse. But his boots thundered forward, the small buckles making a sound like clinking chains.
“Are you in some sort of trouble? Is that it? Are you with child?” His voice softened, and I looked up, startled at the sudden change in his tone.
“Well, then?” he boomed.
I jumped, folding myself deeper into the corner of the room. What could I have possibly said to him in that moment? Telling Captain Grant that Johnny’s father had accused me of stealing, so I had to run away to consummate our marriage in order to clear my name and win back my homeland was perhaps not the best way to endear myself to him.
“There’s been…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “There’s been trouble at home.”
Grant let out an exasperated sound, shaking his head and turning away with a curse. “You do understand you are aboard a ship with over seven hundred male sailors, correct? A woman has no place on a ship of the line bound for battle. I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“I know that, sir.”
“And due to the nature of our mission, I am in no position to turn us around.”
He shook his head, pacing the room. “You have endangered yourself and my men with your presence. I know officers who would hang you for treason against England for what you have done.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not English, then.” The words popped out before I could stop them, my latent nationalism waving a pitiful green flag in the dim light of the Captain’s chambers.
A muscle flickered in his jaw, and when he turned to me again, I nearly gasped at the rage in his bright eyes. All the blood drained from my face, and I bit my lip, willing my saucy tongue to hold still.
“You think this is some sort of game?” His eyes narrowed, and he pressed closer to me.
My courage fired back, and I straightened, raising my shoulders in a challenge.
His eyes flitted over me from head to toe, and he made a low sound in the back of his throat. “I should throw you overboard and let the fish eat at your rebel heart.”
“Better to die a rebel than live as a slave.”
“She’s at the bar.” Nina sat down at the table we were shown to and smiled up at me. “Go get me a Bud Light in a bottle with a lime.”
“What?” I glanced down at my sister and back up at Bailey, who had yet to notice me. “The waiter will-”
“Now, please.” Nina pushed at my stomach softly. “Go. Get. Me. A. Beer. At. The. Bar.”
“What are you, a robot now?” I smiled and turned toward the bar. “How did you know that was her?”
“She hasn’t changed a bit.” My sister snorted and glanced over her shoulder. “She’s filled out, but she still looks like little Bailey down the street, Jer.”
“No.” I shook my head and headed toward her. “No, she doesn’t. Not in the slightest.”
The little girl with boy’s clothes, pigtails, and mud all over her face was all but gone. The woman in front of me was stunning and left my body hard and aching like a mother fucker.
“Jeremy.” She smiled and pressed her hands to the bar before looking toward my table. She leaned closer and whispered playfully, “Another date? Need help?”
I laughed and glanced over my shoulder before turning back to her. “No. My older sister.”
“Nina?” Her eyes lit up.
“Yeah. She’s saving me from another blind date Mother set me up on.” I shrugged. “My mom wants me to move on.”
“I think that’s very sweet of her to stay involved in your life.” She reached up and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ears. I wanted so badly to see her hair down, to slip my fingers into it, to make love to her pretty pink lips.
“Sweet?” I forced a laugh. “Try again. It’s a pain in the ass, but I love her too much to tell her to back off.”
“Tell Nina to do it?” She offered before bending down to grab something from the counter below her. The white button-down shirt she wore opened just right. The muted pink bra she wore pressed her tits up, their creamy tops thick and beautiful. My cock pulsed in my jeans and pressed against the back of my belt.
Fuck me. She was everything I wanted. I hadn’t thought about making love to a woman in ages, much less taking my time to explore her fully. I wanted quick and dirty so that it was over and I could get on with life. I didn’t want anything soft, sensitive or loving.
“Like what you see?” She glanced up to find me half-drooling. Fuck.
“Yes. You’re so beautiful.” I sat down at the barstool closest to me. “I can’t even find remnants of the little girl who Rhys and I tossed in the air or drug around in the mud.”
Opposites attract...are you ready for the heat? Penalty Play by Jami Davenport releases on November 30th!
CHECK OUT THIS HOT COVER!
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Title: The Paranormal Portal
Author: Cheri Marie, Kris Johnston, Angie Brocker, Alyssa Brocker, Stephanie Henry, Charlotte E. Dhark, Brianna West, and JP Hart
Genre: A YA Paranormal Anthology
Release Date: October 26, 2017
Photog: Gigi Hoggard with Gigi Photography
Model: Skyler Hoggard
Cover Designer: Jenn Ann with Book Nerd Designs
Formatter: Brenda Wright
From ghosts, to witches, to demons alike, immerse yourself in these one-of-a-kind YA Paranormal tales that will be sure to leave you pondering the age-old question: Do they actually exist?
Decide for yourself in The Paranormal Portal, A young adult anthology.
CHERI MARIE Author of Hearts Aligned (Self-published 2016), a military romance, Cheri Marie aka Young Adult author Bella Rayne, lives for a good read with an alpha hero and strong, stubborn heroine. After many years of starting books and never finishing, she took to Word in April 2015 determined to write and finish her first novel. Nights that turned into mornings and a whole lot of unruly characters, she finished Hearts Aligned. Residing in sunny Southwest Florida, she lives with family, five dogs, a cat, a tank full of fish, and a bearded dragon named Toad.
KRIS JOHNSTON Kris Johnston is the best-selling author of paranormal fan favorites; The R.I.P. Series and This Beautiful Curse. She is a single mother of six, a native of Southern California, and loves all things indie. Her obsession with writing began at the age of 8 with poetry and grew over the years. She is a huge fan of Dean Koontz (Odd Thomas is her forever book boyfriend!), Edgar Allan Poe, Stephen King, and R.L. Stine.
Angie Brocker has been writing since the 3rd grade, and over the years, her passion for the written word continues to grow. She obtained her BA in English Literature with a Creative Writing emphasis and discovered a love of editing. Years later, she has been published on 101 Words, Eskimopie and has been a featured writer on Spillwords. Currently, she is also writing vows for weddings as an ordained minister.Married with four grown children, Angie enjoys spending as much time with her family as possible. She also loves her dogs and cat, being a manager for a Paranormal Investigating team and compulsively watching The Walking Dead. ALYSSA BROCKER Voted 2016 Spillwords Author of the Year, Alyssa Brocker began writing during her freshman year of college. With the creative efforts of her theatre troupe, they produced an original play written in prose. After that experience, writing was all she wanted to do. Her poetry and short stories have been published in Florida Weekly, Leaves of Ink, 101 Word Stories, and Eskimopie. Her current project is a poetry collection, “without reason” on Spillwords. The series is written only from post-it notes, along with honest photography. She lives with her puppy, Dobby, who is always her first reader.
STEPHANIE HENRY Stephanie Henry is the author of What Doesn’t Kill Us, The Story of Us, and most recently the C-Vac series. She loves writing, as well as immersing herself in a good novel. Whether in a book or on screen, she’s a sucker for an epic love story. She lives with her husband and two young children in Central Massachusetts.CHARLOTTE E. DHARK BRIANNA WEST Brianna West lives in beautiful Northern California with her wonderful husband and four adorable children. She writes funny, real stories that are accompanied by humor and supernatural elements. First published in October 2015, Brianna has gone on to add several books to her main series and spin-off series since then. Her stories feature sassy, strong heroines; hunky, supernatural heroes; a sordid amount of action; enough humor to leave you laughing all the way through; and a world that will fill you with an overwhelming desire to be a part of it. JP HART
Kiss Me Crazy by Vanessa Vale is NOW AVAILABLE! because one cowboy is never enough...
ADD TO YOUR TBR → http://bit.ly/2xGNxcPAvery believes in flirting and flings, not relationships. But when she returns to Bridgewater for her sister's Christmas-time wedding, two hot cowboys try to change her mind about the one "f" word she avoids: fiancés. Warning: Panty melting! Kiss Me Crazy is the sixth book in the wildly dirty series where one cowboy is never enough. This standalone HEA is all about her - no M/M. Not quite a reverse harem, but one cowboy is never enough.
About the Author:
Vanessa Vale is the USA Today Bestselling author of over 30 books, sexy romance novels, including her popular Bridgewater historical romance series and hot contemporary romances featuring unapologetic bad boys who don’t just fall in love, they fall hard. When she’s not writing, Vanessa savors the insanity of raising two boys, is figuring out how many meals she can make with a pressure cooker, and teaches a pretty mean karate class. While she’s not as skilled at social media as her kids, she loves to interact with readers.
Connect with Vanessa!
Title: Clean Break
Series: A Little Like Destiny #3
Author: Lisa Suzanne
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 26, 2017
After two brothers shatter her world, Reese Brady escapes to her old life. She occupies herself with work and friends in an attempt to find comfort after her catastrophic summer.
When Reese receives a desperate call from someone she thought sheâd never hear from again, sheâs forced to confront the love she couldâve had. She has to decide between saving the man who broke her heart or moving on without him.
Will Reese get her clean break, or will she be forced back into everything sheâs trying to escape?
Free in Kindle Unlimited
#1 Amazon Bestseller in Rock Music
Free in Kindle Unlimited
Lisa Suzanne is a romance author who resides in Arizona with her husband and baby boy. Sheâs a former high school English teacher and college composition instructor. When she's not cuddling baby Mason, she can be found working on her latest book or watching reruns of Friends.
They haunt me.
I can't look into a person's eyes without seeing the six-digit date of their death.
I’m helpless to change it, no matter how hard I try.
I’ve trained myself to look down. Away. Anywhere but at their eyes.
My camera is my escape. My salvation. Through its lens, I see only beauty and life—not death and despair.
Disconnected from all those around me, I’m content being alone, simply existing.
Until I meet him.
The man beyond the numbers.
How can I stay away, when everything about him draws me in?
But how can I fall in love, knowing exactly when it will expire?
The intercom crackles loudly throughout the classroom, interrupting Ms. Sherman’s rather uninspiring Friday afternoon lesson on the life cycle of a star. Even though most of the students around me are furiously jotting down notes about nebulas, red giants, and supernovas, I’m half listening while I doodle caricatures of me and my friends in the margin of my notebook. It’s not that I’m not interested in the material she’s talking about. No, that’s not the case at all. It’s quite the opposite actually; science is my favorite subject, especially anything that deals with astronomy and the unknowns in our universe.
But with a dad who is a super-smart astronomer at Johnson Space Center—or NASA, as most people here in Houston call it—I learned about this stuff she’s teaching before I ever started kindergarten. Heck, just this past summer before fifth grade, Mama and I went to visit him at a planetarium in Hawaii, where he was part of a team that discovered eleven new moons orbiting Jupiter! If I don’t ace this test next week, I better not even go home. I definitely wouldn’t be able to be an astronaut then.
“Ms. Sherman, can you please have Lyra Jennings gather her things and come down to the office? She’s leaving for the day,” the office lady who reminds me of Paula Deen—Mama’s favorite chef—announces through the ancient intercom system.
At the sound of my name, my chin jerks upward from my pencil sketches to the standard black-and-white classroom clock mounted above the projection screen. The hands read 12:45 p.m., nearly three hours before the end of the school day, when my parents are supposed to pick me up as we head out to Dallas for the weekend to celebrate my eleventh birthday. Ooh, maybe getting out of school early was my surprise they mentioned!
I’ve been looking forward to this day since we came home from this same trip last year, and I know my parents planned something special for this year. Every birthday, instead of having one of those silly kids’ parties with pointy hats and piñatas, they take me to the Texas State Fair. There, we spend the weekend riding as many rides as possible, stuffing our mouths with sausage-on-a-stick and fried Twinkies, playing games until we win the biggest of the stuffed animals, and laughing until our faces hurt and happy tears stream down our cheeks. Hands down, it’s my favorite three days of the year, even better than Christmas. And I really, really like Christmas.
Excitement jets through me as I stand up from my desk and hurriedly cram my spiral notebook and textbook into my purple paisley backpack. If we make it there early, I’ll be able to go swimming at the fancy hotel’s indoor pool before dinner.
“Sure thing,” my teacher calls out in response. “She’ll be right down.”
Hoisting the strap of the bag up on my shoulder, I turn to leave the room and my gaze meets Ms. Sherman’s. Her warmth shines in her bright amber-colored eyes, highlighting the numbers 051123 that I see imprinted in her pupils. The same six white numbers I see every time we make eye contact. The numbers I’m not allowed to talk about. The ones everyone thinks are all a part of my healthy imagination.
But they’re wrong. They’re all wrong.
The numbers are real, and they never change or go away. I only wish I knew what they meant. Mama and Daddy—who, by the way, are the only two people I know that have the same numbers—call it my special superpower, but I know they just pretend to believe me. I see the looks they share when they think I’m not watching. They don’t want me to think about all those things the doctors say about me. I may only be ten years old, but I’m 100% sure I’m not crazy, nor do I lie for attention. I’m an only child, for Pete’s sake; my parents are overly interested in my life. Though I do appreciate their support, even if they don’t understand.
“Have a nice weekend, Lyra. Don’t forget we have a test over CHAPTERs six through eight on Monday. Make sure you’ve read all the material,” she reminds me.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be ready,” I reply modestly, not sharing with her or the rest of the class I’ve already read through CHAPTER thirteen in the text, including answering the study guide questions at the end of each section. I may be an overachiever, but I’m not a brown-noser.
Luckily, school just comes easy for me, and my parents get over-Jupiter’s-moons proud when I bring home straight A’s on my report card. It reassures them that I’m normal and well adjusted. At least that’s what I heard Mama whispering to Daddy on the phone one night when she thought I wasn’t listening.
I mouth a quick goodbye to my best friend, Beth, who I pass by as I scuttle toward the exit. With her last name being Blackmon and mine being Jennings, we rarely get to sit near each other, as most of our teachers put us in alphabetical order. Beth’s numbers are 022754, and like Ms. Sherman’s, they light up vibrantly when she looks up at me and mouths the words Have fun before I slip out the door.
I never want to break the rules or get in trouble, so I somehow fight the urge to sprint down the deserted hallway and force myself to walk as fast as my long, skinny legs will let me. The swishing sound from my denim shorts rubbing together fills my ears, creating a soundtrack for my excitement. My cheeks ache from smiling so big while I drop off my folders and books in my locker then make a beeline to the front of the school, where my parents are waiting for me. This is going to be the best of the best weekends ever, one that none of us will ever forget. I just know it.
Only, when I swing open the glass door to the main office, expecting to see my favorite two people in the world, I’m surprised to find my Aunt Kathy standing there, her face puffy and pink, the corners of her mouth pointing due south. Our eyes meet, and I can barely see her numbers—123148—because of how swollen the lids are around them.
The fluffy white cloud of elation I floated in on disappears instantly as a dark fog of dread takes its place. Engulfing me. Swallowing me whole. She doesn’t have to say a word—I already know. Not how or when or where it happened, but deep in my bones, I know.
I was right. This will definitely be a weekend I’ll never forget, only it will be for reasons I’ll never want to remember.
“I’m so sorry, Lyra baby girl,” she cries. “I’m so sorry. They’re… they’re gone.”
The word bounces around between my ears, getting louder each time it echoes. The first time, it freezes my movements. The second steals all the air from my lungs. By the third time, I’m pretty sure I have no pulse. I want to go, too.
With my feet stuck to the floor and my body stiff as a statue, Aunt Kathy rushes over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Pulling me up against her chest as uncontainable sobs shake her body, she breaks down in front of the receptionist and attendance clerk, neither of who bother to hide their open staring. Numb, I stand completely still while she wails for several minutes, and I never once make a single sound or try to break free from the death grip she has on me. My thoughts race so fast they’re standing still.
I’m just… here. And my parents just… aren’t. And they won’t ever be again.
Climbing into the passenger seat of Aunt Kathy’s fancy sports car—a car I usually beg to ride in because there’s no backseat—I fasten my safety belt and then close my eyes as I lean my head back on the black leather, warm from the hot southern Texas sun. Even though it’s mid-October, I’m still wearing shorts and sandals, and just last weekend I went swimming at Beth’s house. But as I sit here and wait for my aunt to start the car, my teeth chatter loudly and my entire body trembles uncontrollably. My heart is frozen solid, but I’ve yet to shed a tear.
The phone rings and I jump, automatically looking at the caller ID on the screen, thinking… hoping… praying it’s someone calling to let us know this has all been a big mistake, that my parents are really okay.
“Hey, Mom,” Aunt Kathy answers after just one ring. We still haven’t pulled out of the parking space. “Yeah, I have her now. She’s safe and sound.”
My heart plummets even lower into my stomach than it was before as she pauses to listen to Granny Gina on the other end. Granny Gina is my dad and Kathy’s mom who lives in New Orleans, where she moved about five years ago after my grandpa passed away from lung cancer. Since my mom’s parents both died before I was born, she’s the only living grandparent I have, and luckily for me, she’s a pretty awesome one. But today, nothing is awesome. Not even close.
“I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word. I’m sure she’s in shock.” My aunt talks about me like I’m not sitting right here, as I finally feel the car jerk back in reverse.
Another pause. The car lurches forward into drive then we bounce hard as Aunt Kathy flies over a speed bump. I think I’m going to throw up.
“Okay, I’ll take her home so she can pack a suitcase of whatever she wants to bring, and then we’ll go to my place until you get here. You should be in about 5:00?”
Pack a suitcase of what I want to bring where? Where am I going? Why is this happening to me? I’m a good kid. I make good grades and I’m nice to people, even those people who everyone else makes fun of, and I listen to my parents and my teachers. What did I do to deserve this? Why me?
“Yeah, Mom, I know,” Aunt Kathy hiccups. She’s crying hard again. “I’ll take good care of her, and we’ll see you later. I love you.”
I keep my eyes screwed shut as she disconnects the call, scared she’ll want to talk if I open them. I don’t want to talk to her or Granny Gina or anyone but my parents. I want my mom and dad!
Thankfully, Aunt Kathy doesn’t try to talk to me as we drive, but when I feel the car come to a stop and hear the engine turn off, she gently taps my arm. “Lyra, sweetheart, we’re at your house. We’re going to go inside, and I need you to pack up a suitcase or two of the clothes and things you want to take to New Orleans. Whatever you need.”
“New Orleans?” My lids snap open and I whip my chin in her direction. I don’t even recognize my harsh, scratchy voice. “I’m going to New Orleans?”
“Yeah”—she nods sadly as she swipes at the black mascara streaks on her face with her thumbs—“with Granny Gina. After we take care of, uh, of everything here, you’ll go live with her there.”
Scowling, I cross my arms over my chest and grunt. “I don’t want to leave Houston, or my friends, or my school. Why can’t I stay here with you?”
“You know I travel with my job, Lyra. Sometimes I’m gone a week or two at a time, and there won’t be anybody here to stay with you. Granny Gina’s house has an extra bedroom, and since she doesn’t work, she’ll be able to better give you everything you need.”
What I need and will be better for me is my mom and dad. And my perfect birthday weekend at the fair.
She reaches out to attempt to soothe me with her touch, but I wrench away, banging my elbow on the car door in the process. The whack is loud, and the place I hit immediately turns red, but my brain doesn’t register the pain. I feel nothing. I’m broken.
I glance over at my aunt, and the tears spilling down her cheeks make me feel bad for acting the way I just did to her. What happened to my parents isn’t her fault, but I’m angry and this is all moving too fast. How am I supposed to pack up what I need in a couple of bags? I want to stay in my room, in my house, living with my parents.
“I know this is all unfair, baby,” she says through her sniffles, “and I can’t even to begin to understand what you’re thinking or feeling. I mean, I’m freaking the hell out and I’m a grownup who’s supposed to know how to handle these kinds of situations. All we can do is cling to each other as family and try to get through this together. Between me and Granny, we’ll do the best we can for you, and right now, we think the best thing is if you get your things and go stay with her.”
“How did they die?” I blurt out, completely off topic from what she’s talking about. My mind can’t stay focused on any one thing, but this is the question that keeps popping up. “I need to know how it happened.”
Swallowing hard, Aunt Kathy inhales a shaky breath through her nose and blows it out through her mouth, visibly trying to collect herself before she answers me. “It was a car accident,” she whispers after forever, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t know why they were together in your mom’s car this morning or where they were going, but an eighteen-wheeler lost control and hit them. They were already gone by the time the first responders arrived.”
I nod, still unable to cry. I hear the words she’s saying, but they aren’t really registering. They make sense, but I don’t understand. It’s as if I’ve been swallowed up by one of the black holes Daddy taught me about and the darkness is sucking away my ability to think, to feel. All I hear is the word “gone” still replaying over and over and over.
“Okay. I’ll get my stuff,” I say flatly, finally opening the door and stepping out of the car.
My movements are robotic, and I can barely even feel the key in my hand as I unlock the front door to my house. Stepping inside, I’m overwhelmed by a combination of the sweet smell of my mom’s favorite vanilla cookie candle and the sight of my dad’s fuzzy slippers waiting by the coatrack—the slippers he puts on the minute he walks in the door from work every night. When I realize he’ll never wear those slippers again, nor will my mom ever be able to forget if she blew out the candle when we’re about to pull out of the driveway, an acute pain shoots through my chest and I stumble over to the staircase, grabbing the banister to keep my balance.
“I’m right here, Lyra,” Aunt Kathy murmurs from behind me as she slips her arm around my waist. “Let’s just get your things and head over to my place. Later, once we’ve had some time to deal with everything, we can come back to go through the house and all the stuff… if you want.”
Another nod and I let her guide me up the stairs to my room. I want to scream at her that there will never be enough time to deal with losing my parents, that I’ll never be able to go through their things, but I keep my lips pressed together and do as I’m told.
“Where do you guys keep your suitcases?” she asks, glancing around my room as if she’s doing an inventory of what I have. “I’ll go grab a couple while you start pulling out what you want to take. If you forget something, it’s no big deal, because you and Granny are going to be staying at my place for the next few days. I can just bring you back to get it, or I can even ship it to Louisiana if you remember once you’re there.”
“They’re in the storage cabinets in the garage,” I answer while walking over to my desk, my eyes locked in on a framed photo of me and my parents that sits next to my laptop.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
The thud of her heels on the hardwood floor grows quiet as she makes her way back down to the first floor, and just as I grab the picture and plop down on the chair, I hear her open the door to the garage. A few much-needed minutes by myself.
I gaze down at the photograph of the three of us from a day at the beach, me sandwiched between their cheerful, carefree expressions, and the first tear finally escapes. Once the dam breaks, I can’t stop the flow, and as I trace my finger over the outline of each of my parents’ faces, I cry for everything I’ll never have again. A supernova of tears.
Faces I’ll never see smile again.
Voices I’ll never hear say my name again.
Arms I’ll never be hugged by again.
A never-ending galaxy of love that I’ll never feel again.
It’s all just… gone.
After several minutes of vision-blurring bawling, I set the picture frame back upright on my desk. A hot pink heart drawn on my calendar with the words Birthday Weekend Begins written over today’s box catches my attention. I then notice the printed numbers next to my bubbly handwriting that read 10-18-02.
Snatching the picture up again, I stare directly into first my dad’s eyes, and then my mom’s. The numbers I see when I look people directly in the eyes only happens when I’m face-to-face with someone, never in photographs or through a screen or mirror. But even though I can’t actually see the numbers right now in the picture of my parents’ pupils, their numbers are forever etched in my brain from looking at them every day of my life. I used to think the reason they had the same numbers meant they were true soul mates, like God made them to match perfectly together, but now….
My gaze flicks over to today’s date of 10-18-02, then back to my parents’ faces, where I envision their numbers—101802.
My plummeting heart collides with my lurching stomach in an explosion of realization.
It’s my Big Bang Moment.
About Erin Noelle USA Today Bestselling Author
Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two
young daughters. While earning her degree in History, she rediscovered her love for reading that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current,Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels.
Most nights you can find her cuddled up in bed with her husband, her Kindle in hand and a sporting event of some sorts on television.
Grab this New Romantic Comedy Today!
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Lila Callan had an unconventional upbringing—unavoidable when your mother owns a brothel. But while she’d inherited some of her parents’ ‘wacky and offbeat’, she was also strong, independent and incredibly intelligent. The fact she was tall, beautiful and blond was a bonus she never really cared to exploit. She wasn’t uptight; it’s just that long term was more her thing, with zero interest in one-night stands.
Until she met Ryan York and then she isn’t so sure.
Blindingly good looking.
Infectious sense of humor.
And charm for days.
Ryan York was movie star material.
Except that he wasn’t.
He’d turned his back on the idea of hitting the big time, more content with being Eric Larsson’s—his best friend who was a movie star—right-hand man. Despite his laid-back persona, he was a guy who could get stuff done. And women lined up to be done by Ryan. He did not have a problem with that. Not. At. All.
Except his magical panty dropping powers didn’t seem to extend to the lovely Lila. And she wasn’t sure if she was going to teach the #1 player a new game, or find one herself.
One way or another, they were both getting naked.
Add to your TBR: http://bit.ly/2wQucmW
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Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
Release Date: November 16, 2017
SynopsisShane’s her brother’s best friend and thirteen years older than her. Juliana knows his desire to be the loner and to never settle down. But none of that stops her from showing up at his hotel room late one night. Months later, she imagines every scenario for when she runs into Shane again. However, she never imagined him brushing off their scorching night together. She never imagined him calling her a ‘little girl’ who can’t handle a man. His words ignite a fire in Juliana. If she has to date every single guy in Cincinnati, she’ll prove that she is more than capable of “handling” a man. Except Juliana and Shane can’t stay away from each other, so they set up some rules; only sex, and no telling her brother. It doesn’t take long for the sex to turn into feelings, and Juliana can feel his icy exterior melting. Is he willing to risk his best friend for a chance at love? For Juliana, that might be too good to imagine.
One of Five ARC's for Imagine Me
About the AuthorFiona Cole is a military wife and a stay at home mom with a degree in Biology and Chemistry. As much as she loved science she decided to postpone her career to stay at home with her two little girls and immersed herself in the world of books until finally deciding to write her own. Where You Can Find Me is Fiona's debut novel and will hopefully be the first of many.
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