It gives us great pleasure to bring you the Cover Reveal for ENIGMA, the first novel in The Enigma Series by Vanessa Liebe! Enigma is wet, wild, and deliciously sensual... guaranteed to tickle your senses in every fun and imaginative way.
Series: The Enigma Trilogy, Book 1 Genre: Erotic Romance, Contemporary Romance, Marital Heat
Mark and Lucy Fuller have a great marriage, or so they think. But there is always room for improvement and there is one side to their marriage that they have never discussed or indulged in and that is their fantasies. When Lucy is referred to a new club where they can enact their fantasies, albeit only be intimate with one another, they become members and discover a whole new side to their marriage with some interesting and positive results.
Mark had no idea being kidnapped by his wife could be so arousing or that she could spank so well. Caution! When you read about Mark and Lucy’s sexual fantasies you may need that cold shower. Join them on a wet, wild and deliciously sensual ride and dare to wonder about your own.
The first time I tasted Whiskey, I fell flat on my face. Literally. I was drunk from the very first sip, and I guess that should have been my sign to stay away. Jenna and I were running the trail around the lake near her house, sweat dripping into our eyes from the intense South Florida heat. It was early September, but in South Florida, it might as well have been July. There was no “boots and scarves” season, unless you counted the approximately six weeks in January and February where the temperature dropped below eighty degrees. As it was, we were battling ninety-plus degrees, me trying to be a show off and prove I could keep up with Jenna’s cheerleading training program. She had finally made the varsity squad, and with that privilege came ridiculous standards she had to uphold. I hated running — absolutely loathed it. I would much rather have been on my surf board that day. But fortunately for Jenna, she had a competitive best friend who never turned down a challenge. So when she asked me to train with her, I’d agreed eagerly, even knowing I’d have screaming ribs and calves by the end of the day. I saw him first. I was just a few steps ahead of Jenna, and I’d been staring down at my hot pink sneakers as they hit the concrete. When I looked up, he was about fifty feet away, and even from that distance I could tell I was in trouble. He seemed sort of average at first — brown hair, lean build, soaked white running shirt — but the closer he got, the more I realized just how edible he was. I noticed the shift in the muscles of his legs as he ran, the way his hair bounced slightly, how he pressed his lips together in concentration as he neared us. I looked over my shoulder, attempting to waggle my eyebrows at Jenna and give her the secret best friend code for “hot guy up ahead”, but she had stopped to tie her shoes. And when I turned back around, it was too late. I smacked into him — hard — and fell to the pavement, rolling a bit to soften the fall. He cursed and I groaned, more from embarrassment than pain. I wish I could say I gracefully picked myself up, smiled radiantly, and asked him for his number, but the truth is I lost the ability to do anything the minute I looked up at him. It was an unfamiliar, warm ache that spread through my chest as I used my hand to shield the sun streaming in behind his silhouette, just how you’d expect the first sip of whiskey to feel. He was bent over, hand outstretched, saying something that wasn’t registering because I had somehow managed to slip my hand into his and just that one touch had set my skin on fire. Handsome wasn’t the right word to describe him, but it was all I kept thinking as I traced his features. His hair was a sort of mocha color, damp at the roots, falling onto his forehead just slightly. His eyes were wide — almost too round — and a mixture of gold, green, and the deepest brown. I didn’t coin the nickname Whiskey until much later, but it was that moment that I saw it for the first time — those were whiskey eyes. The kind of eyes you get lost in. The kind that drink you in. He had the longest lashes and a firm, square jaw. It was so hard, the edges so clean that I would have sworn he was angry with me if it weren’t for the smile on his face.He was still talking as my eyes fell over his broad chest before snapping back up to his sideways grin. “Oh my God, are you fucking blind?!” Jenna’s voice snapped me from my haze as she shoved Whiskey out of the way and latched onto my hand, ripping me back to standing position. I’d barely caught my balance before she whipped around to continue her scolding. “How about you brush that long ass hair out of your eyes and watch where you’re going, huh champ?” Oh no. I didn’t even have time to call dibs, I couldn’t even think the word, let alone say it, before it was too late. I watched it, in slow motion, as Whiskey fell for my best friend before I even had the chance to say a single word to him. Jenna was standing tall, arms crossed, one hip popped in her usual fashion as she waited for him to defend himself. This was her protocol — it was one of the reasons we got along. We were both what you’d call “spitfires”, but Jenna had the distinct advantage of being cripplingly gorgeous on top of having an attitude. She flipped her long, wavy blonde ponytail behind her and cocked a brow. And then he did, too. His smile grew wider as he met her eyes, and it was the same look I’d watched fall over guy after countless guy. Jenna was a unicorn, and men were enamored by her. As they should have been — she had platinum blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, legs for days and a personality to boot. Now, before you go thinking that I was the insecure best friend - I had it going on, too. I worked hard, I was talented - just not at the things traditional high school boys valued. But we’ll get to that. “Hi,” Whiskey finally said, extending his hand to Jenna this time. His eyes were warm, smile inviting — if I had to pick the right word for him, just one, I’d say charming. He just oozed charm. “I’m Jamie.” “Well, Jamie, maybe you should make an appointment with the eye doctor before you run over another innocent jogger. And you owe Brecks an apology.” She nodded to me then and I cringed at my name, wondering why she felt the need to spill it at all. She always called me B — everyone did — so why did she choose the moment I was face to face with the first boy to ever make my heart accelerate to use my full name? Jamie was still grinning, eying Jenna, trying to figure her out, but he turned to me after a moment with that same crooked smile. “I’m sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He said the words with conviction, but lifted his brows on that last line because he and I both knew who wasn’t paying attention to the trail, and he wasn’t the guilty party. “It’s fine,” I murmured, because for some reason I was still having a difficult time finding my voice. Jamie tilted his head just a fraction, his eyes hard on me this time, and I felt naked beneath his gaze. I’d never had anyone look at me that way — completely zeroed in. It was unnerving and exhilarating, too. But before I could latch onto the feeling, he turned back to Jenna, their eyes meeting as slow smiles spread on both of their faces. I’d seen it a million times, but this was the first time I felt sick watching it happen. I saw him first, but it didn’t matter. Because he saw her.
Kandi Steiner is a Creative Writing and Advertising/Public Relations graduate from the University of Central Florida living in Tampa with her husband. Kandi works full time as a social media specialist, but also works part time as a Zumba fitness instructor and blackjack dealer. Kandi started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic (like most girls brought up on Disney movies). When Kandi isn’t working or writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys beach days, movie marathons, live music, craft beer and sweet wine – not necessarily in that order.
12 steps to finding Mr. Right, composed by dating coach extraordinaire Savannah Gamble
1: Admit to being powerless over your attraction to the wrong type of guy. (Like Lincoln Wells, who broke your heart after an unforgettable one-night stand.)
2: Believe Mr. Right is out there.
3: Take inventory of past mistakes. (See step #1.)
4: Make a list of qualities you want in a man. (Avoid charming baseball players/reason you made these rules in the first place)
5: Take charge of your own life.
6: Learn to love yourself.
7: Sort the hookup guys from the relationship guys. (Avoid a painful brushoff after an amazing night together.)
8: Never, ever settle. (Even if the chemistry is off-the-charts.)
9: Don’t believe you can change a guy. (Once a commitment-phobe, always a commitment-phobe)
10: Communicate your needs.
11: Open your heart & love fully. (Still working on this one…)
12: Don’t ever, ever stray from the steps.
When I turned to Linc, every thought involving other guys faded. My focus honed in on his hand still on my back, his body only a breath away from mine. The temptation to see what’d happen if I made a move called to me as I remembered exactly what it felt like to be flush against him. I managed to resist that move, but despite my brain telling me not to do it, I placed my hand on his biceps, my thumb tracing the curve there. “Did you get your mysterious work done, then?” “I got what I need, yeah.” His fingers twitched against my back, the fingertips radiating five spots of heat. “You ready to go, or do you need to do more ogling—er, research?” I smiled and said, “I think I’m good. To the bar with all the happy Braves fans?” Just as I was about to drop my hand, my fingertips hit a rougher patch of skin. My gaze dropped to the puckered pink scar, and I traced the long line underneath his elbow, from the bottom of his biceps to the beginning of his forearm. “From the surgery?” His throat worked a swallow. “Yeah.” “Is it hard being in the locker room? I’m sure it brings back a lot of memories.” Linc glanced around. “Missing it comes and goes in waves. When we first walked in, it punched me in the gut, but now…” His gaze met mine again, and my heart tugged, because I could tell how hard he was fighting his emotions. It reminded me of a night in college when he’d shown up at my door, told me he’d received some bad news, and asked me to distract him. Obviously he wasn’t totally in the not-missing- baseball phase yet, and after seeing the passion he still had for the game, what he’d been through the past year hit me. How did you recover from losing the thing you were most passionate about? “I remember when you first told me about your big baseball plans—the same night we climbed on top of the natural science building because you got it into your head that you needed to be closer to the stars, and I was sure we were going to get suspended.” While I’d been pursing my English degree, and I liked what I studied, I’d thought that I’d never been as passionate about anything as he was about baseball. “I remember that night. I also remember that I barely got a C on that project—you kinda sucked as a constellation-spotting wingman.” I poked his chest. “Hey! You’re the one who brought all the beer! Once the stars blurred and swam together, telling one from the other became impossible. I was sure I was going to fall to my death on the way down.” “I would’ve caught you.” Linc’s hand curled around my hip, like he was prepared to catch me now, and in that instant, I wanted to fall.
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling author Cindi Madsen sits at her computer every chance she gets, plotting, revising, and falling in love with her characters. Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she'd be even crazier. She has way too many shoes but can always find a reason to buy a new pretty pair, especially if they're sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music, dancing, and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband and three children. Visit her at www.cindimadsen.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter and learn about upcoming releases. Cindi is the author of YA books All the Broken Pieces, Cipher, Rift, Resolution, and Demons of the Sun, and adult romances Falling for Her Fiancé, Act Like You Love Me, Resisting the Hero, Cinderella Screwed Me Over and Ready to Wed.
The Hard Sell by Lulu Wright Release Date: September 26th, 2016
Lily Brook works in men's underwear, but she would love to get Jack Stewart out of his.
Lily hasn't dated anyone worth writing home about for years. So when she meets the impossible and impossibly handsome Jack Stewart--well, you could say he piques her interest. It doesn't matter that he's the cockiest asshole this side of the Mason-Dixon line.
Jack Stewart is destined for success. With his designer suits, intense hazel eyes, and penthouse apartment, he's the total package. But he's also the manager of Hamilton's Department Store--the store where Lily could make or break her career. He would never fraternize with an employee. And there's no way in hell Lily would risk her job on the hottest guy in Philadelphia. Right?
But she can't stop imagining what he'd look like in a pair of Flash Fit's sexy male underwear...
He shouldn't dip his wick in the company's ink, but he can't resist Lily's curvaceous body and wacky charm. He wants Lily--in the break room, the dressing area, everywhere.
Making a move on Jack could end her career. But can Lily resist his Hard Sell?
Lulu Wright is a sushi eating lover of Broadway shows, long walks on the beach, and sexy book boyfriends. After working in retail for ages, she's proud to put her hilarious experiences to paper in her first romance novel, The Hard Sell
Joel Anderson doesn’t take anything seriously.
Not his relationships, which have been few and far between since his brutal divorce. Not the drama of working in a tattoo parlor, which seems to be around every corner. When things get him down, he smiles and cracks a joke. But he’s not the kind of man you cross, or you’ll find yourself at the wrong end of his fists.
Annika Belousov takes everything seriously.
Like her job as a reality television producer, given that she typically has something to prove. Or her love life, which is defined by a series of requirements — affluent, ambitious, accomplished, to name a few. Definitely her family, who worked their whole lives to afford her every opportunity, a sacrifice she doesn’t take lightly. When she’s tapped to produce a reality show at Joel’s shop, she doesn’t think twice, just goes in for the kill, as if there were any other way.
The second Annika walks into Joel’s shop, he makes it his mission to crack her open, but she’s not having it. He’s all wrong — too crass, too hairy, too un-serious. But it doesn’t take her long to find out there’s more to him than smirks and tattoos. And what she finds could put her career and his heart on the line.
Not that Joel cares. Because for the first time in a long time, he’s found his tonic.
About Staci Hart:
Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, even though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey. Her favorite word starts with f and ends with k.
From roots in Houston, to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she's not writing, she's sleeping, cleaning, or designing graphics.
enjoys all the perks of being a star NFL quarterback―including the
women. He has no intention of changing his carefree, hard-loving
lifestyle … until a twist of fate reunites him with the girl he
knew growing up.
Abby Morrison has worked hard to become a
physical therapist. She knows she needs to keep things professional
with Max -- but the truth is, she’s always loved him. Back then,
she hid it. Now, it’s not so easy.
As they rekindle their
friendship, the heat between them is impossible to ignore. Soon it
flares out of control, and the fallout threatens to ruin everything.
Can they salvage a future together ... or will the consequences wreck
The time came around nine o’clock when we’d all stuffed ourselves. Abby stood up from the table, a little wobbly. I swooped in, waiting for her to decide it was time to go.
“Come on. I’ll take you home,” I murmured, taking her by the elbow. She looked up at me.
“No,” she murmured.
“No. I don’t want you to take me home. Now will you move?”
“Wait. Slow down.”
“I want somebody else, Max. Now move.”
“Anybody. It doesn’t matter. Just not you.” She shook me off—thank God we’d both been whispering, or practically, because it didn’t seem like anybody else noticed. I followed her out the door to the restaurant’s entrance.
“You can’t drive in this condition,” I warned her.
“Then I’ll get a cab. You can leave now.” She glared at me, her cheeks flushed.
“You ruined it. You always ruin it.”
“How the hell did I ruin anything?”
She looked back into the restaurant, frowning. “I was having fun. People were talking to me, seeing me, liking me. And you had to take over like you always do.”
My car pulled up in front of us, and I took the keys from the valet. “Come on. I’ll drive you home, and we can talk about it on the way.” I practically threw her into the car before she could curse me out, then got in myself. Once I locked the doors from my side, she couldn’t open them.
“What the fuck Max!” She slapped the dashboard, then sank into her seat with a groan. “I was having fun. I was about to get laid, damn it!”
I bit my tongue until I calmed down. “By whom?”
“I don’t know! What did it matter? I was gonna get some for me, for once. And you won’t let me. I have to always be there for you, but you can never be there for me. You couldn’t just let me enjoy myself. No, you probably wanted to tell me all about your stupid fucking cheerleader girlfriend and ask me what you should do about her!” There was so much venom in her voice. She hated me.
I pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “What are you doing?” she asked. I unbuckled my belt without saying a word, then turned to her.
“You wanna know why I wanted to take you home?” I reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders. I pulled her to me before she could push me away and crushed my mouth against hers.
She only fought me for a split second before giving in. She sighed, relaxing, and I wrapped my arms around her. Her lips were so sweet, soft and yielding. When I slid my tongue between them, they opened to give me better access. I tasted the inside of her mouth, taking my time. This girl who had been my friend for so long, and she was right—I’d used her in a way. This girl who was always there for me without asking anything in return. This sexy, incredible girl.
The kiss deepened, with her tongue dancing alongside mine. She wrapped her arms around my neck, almost growling. Sounding hungry, desperate. I ran one of my hands over her body, listening to the way the breath caught in her throat. She whined a little, pressing against me, and when I made contact with her tits she moaned into my mouth.
By the time the kiss ended, we were both breathless. Her eyes were wide, stunned.
“That’s why,” I whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Lewis is a romance author from the Midwest who writes about smart,
sexy, sassy women and hot, possessive alpha males. Her favorite bad
boys to write about include sports players, mafia, bikers,
billionaires and the bad-ass next door. You can find her cooking,
reading, or traveling when she’s not busy working on her next
to be kept up to date on new releases? Text LEWIS
Feisty Sophia never shies away from life. Playful, romantic, connected—her marriage was the thing of fairy tales. But when tragedy strikes, Sophia is left to pick up the pieces of her life. After leaving the army, Jackson is ready to start afresh. But when he returns home, his life spirals out of control. As Sophia and Jackson find themselves in each other, they start to see redemption is possible. Trying to piece together a new life, they must answer the question: Should they forge a life together and say goodbye to their pasts completely, or should they loyally go their separate ways to avoid heartache?
My Heart’s Desire
by Andrea Kane
on Tour September 2016
Genre: Historical Romance
Published by: Bonnie Meadow Publishing LLC
Publication Date: September 20, 2016
Number of Pages: ~ 402
Series: Book 1 in "Barrett Family Series"
Purchase My Heart’s Desire at: AmazonBarnes & Noble or Add it to your reading list on: Goodreads
Lady Alexandria Cassel scorned London's frivolous social whirl, seeking adventure as a stowaway aboard a merchant ship. Drake Barrett was the vessel's powerful captain—and a cynical duke who disdained a noble's shallow life. At sea he revealed neither his origins nor his wealth, and to Alexandria he was simply a man who made her cool reserve fly with the winds… whose desire for her was as wild as the ocean they sailed. Caught in the crossfire of war, they were shipwrecked on an idyllic island, where they tasted perfect passion… and tenderness. But Drake dreaded the day of their rescue—when his love would discover that the virile man she adored was at the pinnacle of the aristocracy she despised. Hardly did they suspect the base treachery that would soon threaten them… and the dangers each would brave to join forever their hearts and lives!
Read an excerpt:
"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY CLOTHES?" No storm could be as fierce as the one that raged in Alexandria’s flashing eyes as she faced Drake across the cabin. Her expression was murderous, her small hands clenched at her sides, her tone lethal. Drake closed the door behind him with a firm click. “By ‘your clothes’ I presume you mean that dusty gown and shredded chemise you discarded on my cabin floor?” He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, regarding her with amusement. Alex was too angry to be shocked at his casual mention of her undergarment. “You know damned well what clothes I mean!” “Now, now … such language, my lady. I am truly shocked.” She looked as though she might strike him. “I demand that you return my things at once!” His brows went up. “You demand? Careful, princess, your snobbish airs are showing. Remember, on this ship the only one who demands is me.” He crossed the room, ignoring her as if she were no more than an annoying child. She stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Did you want something, my lady?” He paused, studying her livid expression. She was as transparent as glass, her anger and exasperation clearly evident on her beautiful face. Drake grinned. “Your clothes are no longer with us.” The color in her face deepened. “What?” “They were torn from your adventure.” “Liar!” she shot back. “There was no reason for you to discard them … at least not for the reason you just gave.” Her accusing tone made him chuckle. “You are quite correct, princess. The real reason is that I cannot have you parading around in your finery. My men are already lusting after you quite openly. We wouldn’t want to further intoxicate their senses, now would we?” “The only one on this ship who has treated me with any disrespect is you!” she retorted. “Then be grateful that I have limited you to men’s attire. Perhaps you will be safe from my lecherous advances.” Drake moved away, and Alex turned her back as he took off his shirt and tossed it carelessly onto the chair. Tossing his breeches next to his shirt, he put an end to her torment by climbing into his berth. The cabin was silent. Drake could sense Alex’s presence nearby, and he knew instinctively that she was not in bed. “Princess?” He heard her jump. “What is it?” He cleared his throat. “Is there some problem?” “No … yes …” She paused. “May I use your basin and some water to wash the dirt from my face?” Drake smiled in the darkness. “Go right ahead. And, princess … if you can find your way around in the dark, help yourself to one of my shirts. They are clean and more than large enough to protect your modesty.” Again, silence. Then, “Thank you, Captain.” Her bare feet padded across the room. Drake listened to her opening the heavy chest, taking out one of his shirts, and slipping it on. Splashing sounds told him she was washing, followed by her soft footsteps as she returned to her cot. Then a thud and a cry of pain. Drake was out of bed in an instant, moving toward the sound of her choked cry. “Alexandria? What is it?” “I walked into the cot,” she whimpered. “Are you badly hurt?” In truth she was not. It had been a sudden painful blow, yet already the pain was subsiding to a dull throb. But it was more than she could withstand after her emotionally taxing day. Hot tears filled her eyes, spilled down her cheeks. Try though she would, she could not control the sobs that shook her. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I never cry … and it is not that bad a bruise … I just can’t …” She shook her head helplessly, covering her eyes with trembling hands. There was no forethought. Drake reacted instantly, pulling her into his arms. “Shhh,” he soothed, pressing her head against his chest. He felt her tears drenching his bare skin, her narrow shoulders shaking. “It’s all right, sweetheart … don’t cry,” he murmured, raising her chin with his forefinger, wishing he could see her face. He stroked his other hand down her back, pressing her closer to him. They became aware of each other at the same moment. He was totally naked. She was clad only in a thin white shirt. She needed comfort. He needed more.
Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of twenty-seven novels, including thirteen psychological thrillers and fourteen historical romantic suspense titles. With her signature style, Kane creates unforgettable characters and confronts them with life-threatening danger. As a master of suspense, she weaves them into exciting, carefully-researched stories, pushing them to the edge—and keeping her readers up all night. Kane’s beloved historical romantic suspense novels include My Heart’s Desire, Samantha, The Last Duke, and Wishes in the Wind. With a worldwide following of passionate readers, her books have been published in more than twenty languages. Kane lives in New Jersey with her husband and family. She’s an avid crossword puzzle solver and a diehard Yankees fan. Otherwise, she’s either writing or playing with her Pomeranian, Mischief, who does his best to keep her from writing.
This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Providence Book Promotions for Andrea Kane. There will be 5 US winners of one (1) eBook copy of My Heart’s Desire by Andrea Kane. The giveaway begins on August 31st and runs through September 30th, 2016.
Today we are celebrating the release of BROKEN GOD by Nazarea Andrews. Broken God is an adult contemporary fantasy, standalone novel. Check out the buy links and the excerpt below. The book is on sale for .99¢ for 2 days ONLY!
Power is a strange and broken thing.He was the sun god, the god of healing and song.And prophecy.Apollo has lived alone for centuries, content to spin out the years wandering a new and strange world, lost in the past and endless versions of the future. He has cut all ties with the remains of Olympus and his power, and hidden himself in humanity.His twin thinks he’s depressed, spending his time in coffee shops, hospital waiting rooms, and concert halls…and nothing matters. Not really.Until her.Iris. With her teasing mouth and soulful music and eyes that remind him of the past.He can’t resist her smile.A girl as wild as he was, once, with a poet’s tongue and the body of a siren, who for one night makes him forget all the years and everything he gave up.And he can’t stop fate.Gods knows he’s tried.He can’t help taking her.Even if he knows better.When Iris wakes up screaming, caught up in visions of the future, Apollo realizes that he didn’t leave his power quite as far behind as he thought.He’s the god of prophecy and he’s been running from it, for centuries.Iris is everything he has to avoid.Now he has a furious Oracle on his hands, his sister trying to fix him, and someone is killing the gods.It’s not just his tenuous sanity that hangs in the balance this time.It’s all of Olympus.Godhood really wasn’t supposed to be this hard.
There are a few things that will never change, despite everything else that has.
When I call, my sister will come.
It is the unshakable truth that my entire world is built on, from my first memories to this day. So when I piece it together, I don’t think.
I slide my phone out, even in the hospital room while Iris murmurs at her brother and Heath eyes me like I might break her.
Stupid boy. I already have.
I text her and slide the phone away. I don’t need to watch to know she’ll answer, any more than I need the answer to know she’ll be at my apartment when we return.
This is Artemis, who has made a life of taking care of me and worrying about me.
I listen to Heath and Lily talk around Iris, listen to her increasingly fragmented babble, and when Heath sends Lily a confused look, I intervene. Catch her hand and let a thin trickle of power seep from me to her. “We had a very long day, and she didn’t sleep well. I think I should probably take her home and let her get some rest. Do you mind?”
Heath does. I can tell, the way he’s bristling but Iris slumps into me and yawns, impressively, backing up every lie I’m spinning.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, ok? You just. You rest. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She’s still looking over her shoulder when I pull her from the room.
Her eyes are wide and serious when we duck into a stairwell. "What happened to him?" she asks. Staring at me like I might give her answers. Like she has the right to demand answers from me.
I tuck her hair back, behind her ears and ignore the low growl of warning it earns me. "If I promise to tell you when we reach my apartment. Will you trust me a little bit longer, sweetheart?"
Her eyes narrow. "Last time we got to your apartment, you and I didn't do much in the way of talking."
I grin at that. Because. Fair point.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Nazarea Andrews (N to almost everyone) is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. Which means she writes everything from zombies and dystopia to contemporary love stories. When not writing, she can most often be found driving her kids to practice and burning dinner while she reads, or binging watching TV shows on Netflix. N loves chocolate, wine, and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, spoiled cat and overgrown dog. She is the author of World Without End series, Neverland Found, Edge of the Falls, and The University of Branton Series. Stop by her twitter (@NazareaAndrews) and tell her what fantastic book she should read next.