Dealing with the aftermath of her battle with the Prince of Drimla, Tilia is trying to continue with her duties as Princess of Crilan despite the hole she feels in her core. Finn, Faxon, and Tilia set off to investigate who is selling the dangerous devices that steal people’s magic, but soon a request for aid takes them to a new land far beyond their Realm. Tilia and Finn meet the Prince and Princess of the Elves and make some unexpected friendships. The Gods and Goddess set them on a path that alters the course of their futures, and modifies their wedding plans.
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Being butler to a widower and single father is a dream job in more ways than one for Charlotte “Charlie” Emerson. She helps keep businessman Ethan Archer’s household running without a hitch and enjoys every minute she has with his six-year-old son, Wells. But as time passes, the situation feels alarmingly intimate and when her heart starts beating faster each time Ethan steps through the door, Charlie must exert rigid control over her feelings.
With her secret, falling in love would be all kinds of bad…
Ethan Archer values the woman who keeps his life in order and cares so much for his motherless boy. He and Charlie act in harmony with each other and it’s not hard to picture them as a little family…in fact, it’s so easy, one reckless night he proposes a marriage of convenience.
What will he do if Charlie says yes? And worse, what if she tells him no?
Ethan Archer woke up with the words of his good friend and company VP echoing in his head. You’re wallowing, E. Standing still in ankle-deep water. It’s past time you started swimming again.
That conversation during their return flight from Paris wasn’t the first time John had brought to Ethan’s attention that he needed to move on with his life. Michelle had passed four years before and John had been singing that same song fairly often in the last two years.
With the intention of taking a run on the beach after dropping Wells at school, Ethan dressed in nylon shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes. Then he brushed his teeth and smoothed a hand over his hair, inspecting himself in the bathroom mirror. Nearly forty, he thought.
Some days, when the grief descended like a shroud, he felt closer to eighty.
Turning off the thought, he left his room, his gaze landing on the half-open door across the hall. It led to a guest suite, the space used by the butler when Ethan was away overnight. He crossed to it and glanced inside.
Not surprising, there was no physical sign of her presence now that she was back in the detached cottage that was her own quarters. The bed’s coverlet was smooth, the pillows plumped. Neither gave away whether the last occupant slept soundly at night or whether Charlie’s slim body tossed and turned. He could imagine her there, though, her shining brown hair unbound, her arms thrown overhead as she dreamed away.
As she dreamed of—
Guilt gave him a sudden pinch and he reined in his imagination. He had no business contemplating his butler’s inner life, let alone picturing her in a bed.
Instead, he walked on to his son’s room and peeked inside.
Wells slept sprawled across his mattress, one hand clutching the bear Charlie had tucked him in with the night before. Ethan smiled as love for the child filled his chest, a balm to his broken heart. Without Wells, he didn’t know where he would be after losing Michelle. Their boy had become his purpose for living.
Something else that his friend John censured. You need a life that includes adults and adult pursuits.
When Ethan had opened his mouth, John had shot a finger at him. Work doesn’t count, he’d said.
Ethan had sighed and wished they’d booked seats in separate rows. By adult pursuits, you mean…
Sex, John had affirmed. You should start with that.
On another sigh, Ethan headed downstairs. He stood by the windows a long moment, appreciating the tranquil view of the Santa Monica Bay. It resembled his life, he decided. After watching his wife lose her battle with cancer, after four years of grappling with grief, most of the time he managed to maintain a certain level of calm.
He could almost hear John’s snort. Buddy, you’re in need of a little upheaval. Or maybe you just need to get laid.
Shutting down the imaginary conversation, he moved to Wells’s homework table and shuffled through the piles of papers that needed his attention. His boy was in second grade! He glanced over at the framed photo of Michelle propped on a nearby shelf. “You should be here to see this, hon. That tiny newborn we picked up from the hospital is now a little guy who can read, write, and work all the remotes around the house.”
Michelle’s infertility had been a source of despair that had come to an end when they arranged for a private adoption. She’d had a year-and-a-half of unfettered maternal bliss until her cancer diagnosis. Even through that and the brutal treatments, she’d found joy in parenting their son.
“Wells thinks about you every day,” he added. “We both do.”
Only then did Ethan come aware that someone had entered the adjacent kitchen on silent feet. Charlie, her sleek hair held back in a ponytail, her slim, tanned legs revealed beneath the hem of a sleeveless shirtdress. It wasn’t too short, but because of her long limbs, her bare skin seemed to go on forever. And always polite, Charlie pretended not to notice that he’d been talking out loud—to an empty room.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “We old guys mutter to ourselves on occasion.” Then he winced, vanity instantly wishing he’d not brought up age. Nearing forty sucked.
“You’re not an old guy,” she said mildly, opening the refrigerator and pulling out half a watermelon.
“Older than you,” Ethan said, and then winced again. It sounded like fishing.
And true to form, his well-mannered butler took the bait. “Not so much.”
Hah. He had a decade on her.
“I’ve dated men your age and more.”
She made a non-committal sound as she began slicing the fruit into cubes.
Ethan cleared his throat, unable to stop his next question. “Are you dating anyone now?”
One glance from her blue eyes had him backtracking. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “None of my business.”
But because he’d put the question out there, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Their Charlie, with her unflappable manner and elegant face, dating some old fart. Or worse—a beach dude. Or much, much worse, one of those old beach dudes with a mat of graying chest hair and a belly hanging over his ratty board shorts.
Ethan frowned. Charlie shouldn’t be dating at all.
Then he came alert to his thoughts. Why was he suddenly so interested in Charlie’s social life? It must be the swing of that ponytail as she moved. The roundness of her ass that was merely hinted at beneath the dress. The small, perfect rise of her breasts that he couldn’t help noticing when she was headed to the beach in swimsuit.
Damn. He shouldn’t be thinking of her ass. Or her breasts. Definitely not about her sweet, bow-shaped lips and what they might taste like.
With a hand to his forehead, Ethan closed his eyes. This was heading south, fast, same as the blood in his veins.
“Are you all right?” Her voice and her cool hand on his arm had him flinching back.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” She held up a mug of coffee.
He took it, and put the heated surface right over the spot where she’d touched him, trying to scald away the memory of her touch.
Her brows came together over her incredibly blue eyes. They reminded him of some kind of flower—bluebells, he thought. This close, she smelled flowery too, a light, fresh fragrance with an undertone of spice.
Like spring, or maybe summer, while he was impending winter. Okay, maybe just early fall.
Yet still fascinated by her.
He stepped back. “You should take some time off. Now that I got that deal done, I’ll be around a lot more.”
“A vacation.” In the near year she’d been with them, she’d only gone out of town once. She and another woman she knew from butler school had traveled to Hawaii. She’d come home with a golden tan and a special island blend of sunscreen that smelled of coconuts and nakedness.
He’d blessed the day he’d spotted the empty bottle in the trash.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said now, a little frown tugging down the corners of her lips. “I’ve volunteered to organize the bookfair. It’s a big job.”
“I’ll help,” he offered. “Then you can take off for a few days.”
She didn’t look convinced. But he thought it might be best to put some distance between them for a short while. Determined to find some way to banish the strange thoughts that kept popping up in his head, he offered more encouragement.
“You could visit your family,” Ethan suggested.
That had her moving back. She returned to the kitchen, the long granite island now a barrier between them. “We’re not close.”
“Oh.” What else could he say? The circumstances were not known to him. When a young woman had joined his household, he’d gone out of his way to keep their conversations on a professional basis.
The fact was, when he went seeking a domestic manager, he’d envisioned an older woman, grandmotherly and staid. But Charlie came with glowing recommendations and he’d known instantly upon meeting her that Wells would take to her levelheaded nature and genuine warmth. Then, when the nanny he employed as well started showing up late or not at all, he’d had no qualms about adding Wells’s care to Charlie’s list of duties—she’d insisted.
And he’d given a hefty increase to her salary.
But kept their own interaction impersonal.
It was best that way, he thought, just as the sound of small feet had him turning. He grinned, the sight of his sleepyhead son irresistible. Striding to the boy, he swung him up in his arms. “Cowboy!” he said, by way of greeting.
“I don’t wanna be that anymore, Dad.”
Wells shook his head.
The boy shuddered. “No way. I’m going to be a paleontologist.”
Ethan pretended befuddlement. “What is that? A guy who pals around with onts?”
“No!” Wells started laughing. “A dinosaur guy!” He wiggled to get free of his father’s hold and skipped into the kitchen to stop in front of Charlie. “Did you hear what he said?”
“I did.” She held out a bite of watermelon which she popped into the boy’s mouth, then she glanced at Ethan, her eyes that bright, bright blue which felt like a flame licking over his skin. “Your dad’s silly.”
And old, Ethan thought, though I’m reacting to you like a teenager. He turned away in order to sign those stacked-up forms. “We better get cracking, kid, or we won’t get you to school before the tardy bell.”
By the time Ethan dropped off his son, he was smiling with the enjoyment of being in his boy’s company. Despite what John said, Ethan thought he could be happy enough for the next forty years by being Wells’s dad alone.
He’d had his shot at that other kind of lifetime love.
Then he went for his beach run and returned to his house, pleasantly tired. In the shower, he leaned back against the tile and closed his eyes, letting the hot water beat against his shoulders and run down his chest. Nirvana.
After a few minutes, he filled his palm with shower gel. His hand slid over his pecs and ribs and then moved to his cock.
Stifling his groan, he let his head fall back and he rubbed the stiff shaft, then circled the head, his thumb brushing over the crest. The atmosphere didn’t need any more steam, so he used his free hand to turn off the spray while the other kept stroking. During the past four years he’d often found sexual relief on his own like this, the act perfunctory, the pleasure brief.
But now, instead of merely feeling the physical sensation of a deliciously rough tug and a long, hard pull, his mind joined in. This time, he imagined it was another’s hand on him, a woman’s hand. She gripped him, moving her fingers up and down his length, her others sneaking between his thighs to cup his balls.
His chest heaved and he squeezed his eyes tighter shut as his imagination had her mouth on him now, wetting his hard flesh with lavish strokes. Her tongue moved up to tease the slit in the head and he reached down to caress her soft hair, encouraging her to continue. She moaned, and suddenly he needed more. Wrapping his fingers in her hair, he pulled her off his cock, the audible pop as it came clear of her mouth as carnal as anything he’d ever heard. Then he directed her to stand up with another tug of her hair, and she rose to her feet, her wet and naked body against his. Eyes still closed, he palmed one of her breasts and caressed the tightening nipple.
He began to rub himself harder, though in the fantasy, her hand was back on his aching cock. She was moaning again, and he bent his head, wanting to taste the sound of it on his tongue. But before his lips could meet hers, his orgasm took over. It shot from his heels to circle his balls. They drew tight to his body and then heat and promise pulsed up his shaft. He half-bent, belly hollowing, as semen spurted from him, and his whole body shook with the power of it.
As the climax began to fade, in his fantasy he opened his eyes. Charlie’s big blues were slumberous and her elegant face flushed as she stood before him, her bare body dappled in water droplets. His cock surged with a final gush of pleasure.
Then Ethan fell back against the tile, panting. Shit. Shit.
Maybe John was right. Ethan required something new in his life. Not a naked Charlie, God no, but…
Ethan definitely needed to get laid.
About the Author:
It’s worth taking your time with this one.
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The woman’s killing me.
I’m not the kind of man who would normally even consider blurring the lines between landlord and tenant or boss and employee, but Summer is a walking temptation. Neurotic and obsessive-as-hell when it comes to work details, sure, but a damn cute-without-knowing-it temptation nevertheless.
She’s been a good tenant and an even better worker. Plus, she doesn’t simper or throw herself at me like a lot of women who find out my net worth. I’ve grown…fond of her, oddly enough.
But if she drags my ass out of bed in the middle of the night to talk about work one more time…
* * *
The man’s a saint.
Not only did Jason hire me for the greatest project I’ve ever run point on, but he also let me move into an amazing loft in his building as an extravagant job-relocation perk. Sure, he can be a grouch when I accidentally wake him up to go over the project, but he’s still a saint nevertheless.
He’s been a fantastic boss and a surprisingly protective landlord. But…when did his shoulders get that wide? And why is that growling voice of his making me all weak in the knees lately?
And is it still considered morning wood if it happens in the middle of the night…or something more?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sasha Burke has been reading romances ever since she discovered her local library would let her borrow whatever kind of books she wanted…probably far younger than she should’ve started.
Possessive and protective alpha heroes have long been Sasha’s biggest weakness. Reading and writing about them, especially when there’s a feisty heroine involved, has resulted in her staying up many a night over the years.
You’ll usually find Sasha out and about spoiling her many dogs, or trying to perfect the world’s greatest mac & cheese recipe (and tirelessly taste-testing practice runs in that pursuit), or hosting outdoor fajita nights for her friends as often as she can.
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He’s loved Tiff since high school–but tragedy has blockaded her heart.
Tyee University football player Riley Black has adored Tiff since high school, but she’s never felt the same way. As Riley enters his senior year of college, he’s finally moving on and enjoying the perks of being a star athlete. Until one glimpse of Tiff unearths all those old feelings of longing and desire, not to mention the trauma of their shared past.
Tiffani Vernon has been running from her demons for seven years. When she’s forced to return to Seattle for financial reasons and attend the same college as Riley, she’s confronted with the traumatic event which has shaped her future and scarred her memories of Riley. Tiff struggles to avoid her secret high school crush, but he’s not having any of it. He’s pursuing her with a relentless determination to prove once and for all, they were meant to be together.
Can love finally heal their wounds or will they succumb to the pain and forever wonder what could have been?
* Riley *
Life-changing moments can be as obvious as a guy holding a gun to your forehead or as subtle as glimpsing a face in a crowd.
That gun and that face haunted my nights and often my days.
I hadn’t laid eyes on Tiffani Vernon since the night of our high school graduation over three years ago. She couldn’t leave Seattle fast enough, while I’d never considered going anywhere else. Seattle was the only real home I’d ever known, and I wanted to stay here and make things better. Face my fears head on. You know, crap like that.
Tiff ran from her fears, and our last night together had been epic, unforgettable, and scary as shit. She sped out of town and never looked back—especially not at me.
I knew why. It wasn’t personal, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
I reminded her of that horrible, awful day when our lives hung in the balance, the world shifted in a matter of minutes, and nothing would ever be the same again.
And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
Except move on.
And I had.
Or I thought I had, until I saw her standing across that proverbial crowded room. Our eyes met. Her brown ones to my blue ones. Recognition flashed in her eyes, then panic. Her mouth opened as if she were going to say something. Her expression went soft with regret. Shaking her head, she turned and ran, weaving through the crowd faster than a running back angling for the end zone. Her little pink skirt swished back and forth, calling attention to her fine ass and shapely legs. She was so smoking hot, heads swiveled as she passed.
Pain stabbed deep in my gut. Memories flooded back and slammed me to the turf, leaving me stuck to the beer-soaked floor. Graduation night. Her skin glowed in the moonlight as she gave herself to me, body and soul. I lost myself inside her, certain we’d be together forever. She left town the next morning, and I never saw her again.
Squelching that memory, I stood alone in a crowd of people, hearing nothing, sensing nothing, seeing nothing but the place where she’d stood a second ago. People elbowed me in their haste to get to the keg of beer I was blocking.
I shook my head, attempting to clear it.
She couldn’t be here.
She should be at USC starting her senior year, just as I was starting mine at the Ty, what us locals call Tyee University on Lake Union in Seattle.
She’d traded the rain and mud for sun and sand, and she’d traded me for surfer dudes and Hollywood wannabes.
But now she was back.
My feet refused to follow my orders. All I could do was gape open-mouthed like some creep with a stalker crush. There’d been other times I’d sworn I’d seen her, only to race after her and embarrass the hell out of myself when I found out the poor girl I’d dogged wasn’t Tiffani.
But we’d locked gazes this time, and there wasn’t any doubt in my mind. She was here. I tried to swallow, clear my throat, gulp in some oxygen. I swear my organs were either shutting down or going into overload. My heart slammed in my chest as if building to detonation, and my head pounded to the beat of the music in the room.
Oblivious to my disinterest, the blonde who’d been hustling me all night leaned in closer and gripped my arm. She slipped her tongue in my ear while her hand migrated to my crotch. I gave her a gentle shove, not giving one shit how rude my behavior was, even though I usually prided myself on being a nice guy.
“Later,” I told her and pushed through the throng of frat-house party-goers.
Almost frantic, I shoved my way to where I’d last seen her and caught a flash of blonde hair as she slipped out the door. I dashed after her down the sidewalk into the street and glanced left and right. She was gone, vanished into thin air as if she’d never existed. I waited five, then ten minutes, she never reappeared.
With a sigh, I trudged back to the party, ignoring the curious stares of the guys. I sank onto the couch in the living room, next to a couple of teammates, and faked interest in a football game on TV. My heart thudded wildly, and my hand shook as I lifted a pizza slice to my lips.
My eyes met the concerned blue gaze of my best friend, Gage Harmon, the team quarterback, campus man slut, and proud of both titles. He was chewing slowly and staring at me as if he expected me to strip naked and dance on the table while stone-cold sober.
“You okay, Ry man?”
“Yeah, fine. Thought I saw someone. I was wrong.”
One brow crept upward, disappearing under his messy blond hair. “Female?”
I nodded, refusing to meet his gaze on the off-chance he’d see the pathetic truth and peg me for the idiot I was. What kind of loser pines after a girl this long when he has the world at his feet?
Tiff was the only girl I’d ever truly loved.
And I’d never stopped loving her, as fucked up as that was.
* Tiff *
Running into Riley Black was inevitable. The Tyee campus was big, but obviously not big enough. Even so, I hadn’t expected to see him during my first week of classes. I’d carefully avoided the areas where he might be hanging out, such as Greek Row, and opted for an off-campus apartment. I planned my classes to avoid being near the football field and gym in the afternoons when he’d most likely be practicing. I timed everything with careful attention to detail and avoidance. Lot of good that did me.
Coming to this party had been a lapse in judgment. I should’ve known he’d be here. Maybe I secretly hoped to run into him, just to torture myself. Maybe I was all kinds of screwed up.
Okay, well, that’s stating the obvious. Ask my family. Ask my counselor. Ask my horse. They’d all agree. I, Tiffani Grace Vernon, was one fucked-up girl, and years of therapy had barely put a dent in my tormented past. Through no fault of his own, Riley brought back every traumatic memory of that fateful day when my charmed life became a living nightmare. He was a victim as much as I was.
Now, here we were. At the same frat party. I shouldn’t have come.
Our eyes met, and recognition instantly lit up his gaze. Those same cobalt blue eyes had studied me intently from across the room in our high school biology class. They’d watched me ride my horse in endless circles at the arena near his aunt’s house. Those same eyes had opened wide in horror as my ex-boyfriend, also his teammate, pointed a gun at each of us, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The loud bang had deafened me, and the smell of iron had filled my nostrils, followed by the wrenching pain of being slammed to the ground.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
Seeing him brought it all back as if it had happened six minutes ago instead of almost seven years.
Maybe seeing me did the same for him, too? He’d gaped at me like he’d seen a ghost. Momentarily frozen in shock, his mouth opened and closed as if he were trying to say something but couldn’t. Not that I would have heard him over the sea of drunken partygoers and the roar in my ears.
My brain clawed at the last shred of sanity as wave after wave of dizziness sucked me deeper into a swirling abyss of darkness. My lungs begged for oxygen until I had to be blue in the face. My legs wobbled, and I stuck out a hand to steady myself. Swaying like a drunken sailor, I accidentally buried my fingers in some sorority girl’s cleavage. She raised her hand to take a swing at me but was too wasted to come close.
“You stupid, perverted bitch.”
Whatever. She was the least of my worries.
The music was so loud, no one paid attention to us. I wasn’t a fighter, and the time had come to get my ass out of here, not so much to run from her—I could handle her—but to get away from him and the demons nipping at my heels
I abandoned my beer on a windowsill and shoved my way through the crowd, desperate to exit as quickly as possible. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Riley dodging people in the crowd with deft footwork that would do any running back proud. Only he wasn’t a running back. He was a tight end. The starting tight end for Tyee University. A big man on campus with an NHL star uncle.
And I was—
And I planned on keeping it that way. I didn’t have any interest in being in the spotlight or even in a flashlight.
It’d been a mistake to enroll here, but I hadn’t had a choice. My parents’ divorce had been costly, leaving no money for out-of-state tuition. So here was I was. Back in the area I both loved and despised among the best of memories drowned out by the worst of tragedies with the one person who played a part in both.
I ran out the door and down the front steps, knowing he was only seconds behind. Glancing around desperately, I dived into some bushes in front of the apartment building next to the frat house and huddled in the darkness.
I waited what seemed like hours.
Finally, I peeked through the branches of the bush. Riley stood there, several feet away, gazing down the street with such profound sadness, you’d think he’d lost his best friend. His big hands hung loosely at his sides. He still had that one lock of dark hard that refused to stay in place. He looked the same, but different. A familiar face, yet a stranger.
Shaking his head, Riley trudged back inside, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging.
I almost ran after him—almost—but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t invite the one person back into my life who could destroy every bit of progress I’d made since high school. Even worse, I couldn’t drag him down with me.
I waited long after he’d gone inside before creeping along the side of the building, and around the corner. I ran the several blocks home and collapsed on my bed. Only then did the wrenching sobs shake my body and wring every bit of emotion from my soul until nothing was left but bone-deep weariness.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
USA Today Bestselling Author Jami Davenport writes sexy contemporary, sports, and new adult romances, including her two new indie endeavors: the Game On in Seattle series and the Men of Tyee series. Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her Green Beret-turned-plumber husband, a Newfoundland dog with a tennis-ball fetish, and a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat. She works in computer support in her day job and juggles too many balls, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.
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the most popular and notorious “phantoms” walks along a dark stretch of road in a small Massachusetts town … for more than three decades a redheaded man has been seen walking down Route 44 waiting to be picked up.
In fact, several people have died along this same stretch of road including a man matching this phantom’s description, but no one can say for sure who the “man” is or when the haunting started….
Doug and Karen King, along with their daughter Amy, are the typical all-American family with a cuddly and loving cat, Ponce De Leon. Overnight, the family pet transforms into a murderous evil feline spreading a lethal virus that cannot be contained!
After his wife, his friends, and his neighbors are brutalized and slain, Doug decides to take matters into his own hands to destroy and contain this horrific plague.
Sammy Atkins is a hot (yes, and she knows it!) brilliant young vet. She wasn’t looking for love, never mind an instant family. It just found her….
CAUTION: THIS BOOK IS DERANGED AND MAY CAUSE NIGHTMARES … LET THE BUYER BEWARE (CAVEAT EMPTOR)!!!
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