Nothing is perfect. Life is messy. Relationships are complex. Outcomes, uncertain. People, irrational. But love…well, that makes everything complicated. And when you are caught in a tangled web of secrets, lies, and complex affairs, someone is bound to get burned.
Emily Stevens is a spunky, spirited college girl whose life gets turned upside-down when she realizes she's in love with her best friend of fifteen years, Derek Thorpe. As Emily prepares to confess her feelings to Derek, something happens one night which changes her life forever. Five years later, Emily finds herself in Boston, alone and heartbroken. Will she ever be able to forget the past? And what will she find when she returns home...to the man she left behind?
Veronica Thatcher is an exciting new contemporary romance author. Ever since she was very young, she’s dreamed of becoming a doctor when she grew up. While still forging ahead with that, majoring in pre-med in college, she unwittingly stumbled upon a new dream—becoming a published author. Some may call her an introvert or a wallflower, but she has always found she could express herself better in written, rather than spoken, words. However, never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned she would pursue writing as a prospective career, not just a hobby. Her love for writing goes hand-in-hand with her love for a good romance novel—whether it be a feel-good, sweet romance or a dark, suspenseful one. When she’s not studying, reading, or writing, she is usually found blasting her favourite songs, sometimes singing and dancing along to them. She dabbles in a number of activities, including painting, karate, singing and dancing. She is a huge chocoholic – probably the biggest – and she is an ice-cream junkie too. She considers herself technologically handicapped forever and has no shame in admitting that. She also deems chocolates her boyfriend, Patrick Dempsey the love of her life, and Friends her life!
Her first book, A Way Back Into Love, is slated for release in February 2017, and she hopes readers will enjoy it as much as she enjoyed writing it. You can reach Veronica through Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Wattpad and Gmail.
Emily stepped back from him and shook her head. “Oh, you know damn well what I mean. You know what, Derek? I’m done having this conversation with you. I’m so done with this conversation and I’m so done with you,” Emily spat out angrily before brushing past him.
“Emily, wait,” Derek said, catching her by her arm. “Where are you going?”
Emily spun around and gave him a bitter look before looking down at his hand gripping her arm. “Leave my arm,” she said in a low yet threatening voice, “And why do you care where I’m going? It’s none of your business.”
Derek didn’t leave her arm in spite of her warning and said, “Em, you’ve had too many drinks. You can’t drive in this condition. I’ll drop you home.”
Emily jerked her arm free from his grasp and replied in a bitter voice, “Thank you, but no. I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home on my own. I don’t need you to drop me home. Do you get it, Derek Thorpe? I DON’T NEED YOU!” Emily yelled the last words, causing a few people to look their way.
Landra Andrews is as brazen and unique as her first name. Although
educated and well-connected, she is trapped by a dark secret from her
past. She fears the rest of her life will be decidedly prosaic, until
a dashing young man inherits a neighboring farm and sweeps her off
Cavendish is a second son from an old Southern family. A gentleman in
conduct and an artist at heart, he has sown his wild oats in the
years he spent abroad and is ready to settle down. He is taken with
well-spoken, headstrong Landra from their first meeting, and his
heart for her only grows.
seems to be everything Landra has dreamed of but never dared to
believe she could have—handsome, kind, and well-bred—but when
they are wed, she soon finds herself in all-too-familiar
surroundings, toiling once more against land that won’t yield. Her
restless spirit and iron will rebel against her discontent, and when
a lover from her youth returns, she finds herself torn between two
very different men. Will the mistakes of her past destroy her hope
for the future?
man riding up the drive this time was no one Irecognized, and I knew everyone in Willowbend. He was young,
and he rode a dapple-gray mare with hints of ginger in her mane and
tail. The breathtaking animal had all the aloof grace of a well-bred
aristocrat, her tail and ears held high. A slim hunting dog trotted
obediently at her heels.
spectacle was such a contrast to the former one of Mr.Buckley and his
plodding, drop-eared nag that I stood for a moment as one paralyzed.
Once he had dismounted, the rider spoke to the mare with obvious
affection, patting her neck and clucking to her until she nickered at
him. His canine companion loped about the yard, sniffing unseen
trails, then jumped to attention and ran to his side when he
not anyone we know,・I
murmured, for Colleen'sbenefit,
mounting the front steps. Her eyes were weak. “It’s a gentleman
by the looks of him.”
she hissed, And I look like common white trash! Landra, invite him in
and make my apologies while I change.”
snatched up Ezra, who had run to her, but he struggled, wailing, so
she put him down and rushed inside.
screen door snapped shut behind her on its tight spring as I gathered
Ezra into my arms. I stared after her, aghast that she had left me to
meet a strange man without an introduction. Finally, I drew myself up
and turned to face him, remaining on the porch.
Having fastened the mare to
the hitching post, the man was approaching. I saw that he wore a gray
slouch hat, a khaki frock coat with a white shirt beneath it, and
brown, brushed cotton trousers tucked into worn, leather riding
boots. He wore no tie, cravat, or waistcoat. I did not think he was
but he was dressed so well, at least in comparison to my father’s
usual habiliment of denim bib overalls or chinos and striped cotton
shirt, that I was taken aback.
paused several feet before the front steps and removed his hat.
“Good afternoon, ma’am”
he said. He held a riding crop in his free hand, but from the look of
his horse, I doubted he ever used it.
kept my chin up, conscious of my appearance, but unwilling to
acknowledge it by smoothing my hair. “Hello.”
name is William Cavendish. I’ve just inherited an old estate nearby
and wanted to make a friendly call.”
Buckley told us of your arrival just today.”
brief silence elapsed. He crouched on his heels and stroked his hound
as it came to him. Ebenezer was beside me in an instant with his
hackles raised, and I quieted him with a word.
slowly became more and more conscious of mybedraggled hair and shabby dress, and Ezra grew heavy on my
hip. I set him down, but he refused to come forward, hiding himself
in the folds of my skirt. Resisting the urge to smooth my tumbled
hair, my hand went instead to my mouth, where Daddy had hit me with
the lash. It had healed, but a scar was left, a thin line that split
my top lip on the
side. I rarely thought of it, but when I did, I was self-conscious of it.
of this passed in a matter of moments, but each oneseemed an aeon thanks to my discomfort. Mr. Cavendish smiled
“Your little boy is bonny.
It’s comely in a child, to be shyof
“This is Ezra, my brother.”
looked confused. You are Mrs. Andrews, are younot?”
“I’m Miss Andrews. Mrs.
Andrews is my stepmother.You might have
seen her on the porch as you approached.”
“Begging your pardon. Did I
frighten her away, arrivingso
didn't frighten her. She went inside to make herself presentable. We
weren’t expecting company, you see.”
“Even on a Saturday
live too far out for it to matter.”
rose, his boots creaking, and made as if to swing the crop, pivoting
on his heel. He turned back to me and said, “Begging your pardon,
but I don’t believe I caught your
name is Landra,I said, managing not to grimace, for I hated my
Christian name. No matter how often I said it, it felt odd and
awkward in my mouth. At church, the girls who didn’t like me said
it was ugly. I never signified their remarks with a reply, but I knew
they spoke the truth.
mother had pronounced my name with a soft a in herdrawling Georgia accent, much as one says the word lawn.
Daddy, in his smugness that I had been named after his father,
pronounced it with a short a, like the word land. Neither
pronunciation improved it, but I generally went with my mother’s;
there was a hint of refinement in it.
a pleasure to make your acquaintance,・he
ascended the first two steps of the porch and extended his hand.
hesitated. A young lady does not take a gentleman's hand
indiscriminately, I thought, a favorite proverb of Colleen’s, yet
Colleen had abandoned me, and here we were. There was no common
acquaintance present to introduce us.
last, I met him on the middle step and shook his hand.
pleasure is mine,” I replied, bowing.
enunciated. “That’s mighty pretty. Don’t think I’ve
encountered that one before.”
mind flitted away for a second. His words reminded me of something.
Miss Montgomery. Has a nice ring to it. You got a first name? Who had
said those words? My father. My father had said them when he met my
Young resides in Florida with her husband and daughter. After
spending several years as a childcare worker and secondary English
teacher, she turned to writing full-time.
enjoys exploring the Suwannee River State Park, hiking in the
Appalachian Mountains, swimming, and writing nature poetry. She’s
an enthusiastic reader of fantasy, horror, Victorian literature, and
historical fiction. Like Lizzie Bennet, she is fond of a walk and
dearly loves a laugh.
is a member of the Historical Novel Society. A Woman so Bold is her
Moving into a new town as a child, Rowan befriended two boys named Greg and Mac, eventually earning the kids a nickname of the Three Musketeers. Even as they grew into adulthood, the three would continue their everlasting friendship.
Now, as adults, Greg and Rowan are married, and he has joined the military. Unexpected twists and turns take the two on a dramatic rollercoaster as Mac is on the outside looking in.
With Mac’s hands tied behind his back, all he can do is watch and be there for his friends. As the tribulations unfold, Mac is drawn in closer and needs to find a way around his own emotions.
Will their lives be the same? Will Rowan make it through the trials of heartache and pain her new life has taken?
S.M. KNOWLES wanted to keep her S.M. name separate for her YA Books. Aubrey Kendall is for anything that is not YA or not meant for children to read. She graduated with her Master’s degree in Adult Education and Training in 2012 and is now looking at pursuing her doctoral program. She has been writing since the age of nine, but didn’t pursue publishing until 2013. She lives in Eagle River, Alaska with her two daughters and husband.
Celia thought she was free of her past… Celia Tannehill just wants to live her life in peace. She’s finally out from underneath her father’s domineering thumb, or so she thought. When her past comes calling, her life is upended. Forced into an engagement she doesn’t want, she’s determined to escape her nightmare. Turning evidence on her dad to the Feds seemed like the best choice, until someone on the inside gives her up and destroys the evidence. With a bounty on her head and assassins hot on her tail, Celia makes a run for her life and stumbles upon a bear den with three sexy bear-shifters. Unfortunately, they’re her father’s biggest enemy, but can they be her salvation instead? …until she’s sucked back into her father’s world. Bear shifters, Nick, Dex, and Simon are on the hunt for their mate. After years of warring over property rights with Daniel Tannehill, they never thought they’d come home to find a Tannehill sleeping in their bed. It doesn’t matter that Celia is their enemy’s daughter, because the three bears aren’t willing to lose their newly found mate, at least not without a fight. But can they convince her they’re worth the gamble? Thanks to three bear-shifters her life is about to take an exciting turn.
Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a "normal" person in southern society. When not writing, she's a full-time mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her real-life hero-husband. She has an unusual relationship with her muse, Dom, but credits all her creative success to his brilliant mind. She's addicted to writing, paranormal romance novels and movies, Alabama football and coffee...addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She's convinced coffee is nectar from the gods and when blending coffee and writing together it generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are spawned from coffee highs and Dom's aggressive demands. To learn more about Gracen or to leave her a comment, visit her website at www.gracen-miller.com.
the NSA gets a strong lead on one of the most prominent faces of
ISIS, the Islamic State embarks on a bold course of action—an
attack on American soil.
Navy SEAL Adam Taylor, on a break between assignments for a global
paramilitary security firm, is visiting his folks in his home town
when he gets a new mission—provide security for a rock star who is
in town for a St. Patrick's Day concert. Unknown to Adam, a team of
American ISIS soldiers will soon arrive with a plan to wreak havoc on
the Jersey Shore, and Adam will get caught up in a deadly game of
wits between the terrorist menace and those tasked to protect the
citizens of the homeland.
Len Briscoe loved
his job. The Customs Border Protection officer grew up watching cop
and PI shows on TV and had been fascinated by them. And when he
discovered he had the same name as a main character in the old Law
& Order series, he couldn’t have been more pleased. As a
Customs agent at Port of Entry, Detroit, his career encompassed both
law enforcement and, in a way, sleuthing. The best of both worlds,
he put on his uniform with pride and went to his station at the
Ambassador Bridge, the span over the Detroit River connecting
Windsor, Ontario to the Motor City, eager to fulfill his
morning, he had been on duty for an hour, when a dark blue Cobalt
arrived at his checkpoint. Briscoe looked through the open driver’s
side window at his next potential suspect.
“May I see
your identification, sir?” Briscoe asked the olive-skinned young
man. Mediterranean ancestry, he quickly assessed.
The man handed
him his Canadian driver’s license and passport.
“This is a
new passport, Mr. D’Agostino.”
“So is this
your first time visiting the United States?”
“When I was a
kid, I came here with my parents once. That was before the increased
border security, of course.”
“What is the
purpose of your visit?”
“I have a
date.” The young man smiled, showing a set of white teeth. “A
girl I met online. She came to Windsor for our first date, and now
it’s my turn.”
returned the smile. “Could be serious, huh?”
enough to get a passport.”
meant to get one. Now I have a good reason.”
as he perused the documents. “You still live at this address?”
“How long a
stay do you anticipate?”
for at least two days.” D’Agostino grinned. “You know.”
the passport. As he handed it and the license back to the man, he
asked, “How do you think the Toronto Argonauts will do this year?”
paused for a moment before responding. “No idea. I’m not into
hockey. Except for the Olympics.”
“Have a nice
stay, sir.” Briscoe raised the gate, and as the man drove off, he
wrote down the license number of the car and the Windsor address of
the driver before he forgot it, though his memory for such details
had always been excellent.
The man could
just be completely ignorant of Canadian professional sports, Briscoe
supposed. But a young Ontario man who didn’t know the Argonauts
played football, not hockey, struck him as quite unusual.
sighed with relief when he drove through the open checkpoint gate.
The Customs guy’s question had thrown him temporarily. But he
thought he’d handled it well, though the only Argonauts he’d ever
heard of were in that Greek mythology story. And here he was, after
all, back in the United States again.
voice of the GPS device told him of the next direction to take.
Khouri shook his head in disgust. He knew it was just an impersonal
recording. But so was the message that would chastise him when he
mis-dialed a number on his phone. And those Viagra ads, with women
telling men what they must do to have sex with them. American infidel
men not only let women boss them around, they seemed to like it. That
would certainly stop when the caliphate ruled the world.
He took the
turn that would lead him to Massoud’s gun shop, excited to play his
part in bringing the infidels down.
graduating from the University of Vermont College of Medicine, I did
my surgical residency in the U.S. Army at Madigan Army Medical
Center, Ft. Lewis, Washington. I then spent three years in the
Medical Corps as a General Surgeon before leaving the Army for
private practice. Thirty years later, I retired to begin a new career
as a writer. I enjoy cooking, tennis, politics, films and film
history, the wonders of the cosmos, and, of course, reading.
Thrillers is one of my favorite genres, so thrillers is what I like
to write. My wife and I (mainly Diane) raised two sons we're proud of
and who are pursuing careers having nothing to do with the medical
field! After living in Pennsylvania for a number of years, Diane and
I settled in North Carolina, where the winters are easy to take and
the only weather we get antsy about is the occasional hurricane.