Chapter Reveal – The Hideaway by Rosalind Abel.

CHAPTER REVEAL
The Hideaway
by  Rosalind Abel  
A Lavender Shores Novel
HOSTED BY LOVE HAS NO GENDER BLOG, the brighter side of JoandIsalovebooks.


A LAVENDER SHORES NOVEL BOOK 5 IS NOW LIVE!
1-Click your kindle Edition FREE with KindleUnlimited.


THE HIDEAWAY KU PROMO


Lavender Shores’s resident tattoo artist, Connor Clark, looks the part—six foot six, musclebound, and covered in ink—and most definitely doesn’t blend in. Grafted into the Bryant family as a teenager to escape his abusive father, the Bryants saved his life, but Connor has never truly felt a part of the founding family royalty. And if his heart’s desire were revealed, it would betray everything the Bryants have done for him.


Micah Bryant was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He’s always had everything he ever wanted—save the one he desires most. Even moving to New York City for a few years didn’t dampen his passion. Not that Micah had expected it to. He’s known his destiny since he was nine years old, the moment it had walked through his door.


After years of longing, years of secrets and stolen moments of passion and love, Connor weakens enough to allow the town to see how he feels, and let the Bryants know his love for Micah is anything but brotherly. But no sooner had the decision been made than Connor’s biological family returns and shatters it all. Still, Micah holds on to the belief that their romance was written in the stars, but maybe he’d been wrong all those years…


the hideaway paperback
Cover artist, Angsty G


ARE YOU READY TO READ THE STEAMY CHAPTER?
Four
Connor

My entire performance had been rigged, and even so, my heart rate was barely coming down. Fortunately, I’d had the forethought to put all my clothes in a separate classroom from the one all the other guys were using as a changing room. I could crawl under a desk and hide for a few hours and still need to be alone for the next day to recover from having the entire town’s eyes on me. It was proof enough that I wasn’t truly a Bryant. I didn’t have one ounce of my mother’s showmanship and ease in the limelight. Of course, Gilbert didn’t either, and he did share her genes.
I retrieved my shirt that I’d tossed on the teacher’s desk when I’d gotten ready—which had only consisted of taking off my shirt, shoes, and socks and then pacing the room for half an hour, trying to work up the nerve to go on stage. I started to pull on my shirt, then noticed the name at the top left of the whiteboard. Ms. Westfield. Pausing, I glanced around the classroom. How had I not noticed before? I suppose it showed just how nervous I had been. This classroom had been nearly as much my salvation as the Bryant home. School had never been easy—though it became a little less stressful once I lived somewhere I was actually wanted—but here in Ms. Westfield’s English class my future began to fall into place. Instead of taking notes on Shakespeare like the class had been instructed, my pages were full of doodles and designs. That was the case for all of my notebooks, no matter what the subject. When she noticed, Ms. Westfield asked me to come see her after school that day. I’d expected a lecture, additional homework, some sort of punishment. Instead she pored over my drawings with me, going on and on about how amazing they were. I’d looked back at those notebooks since, and most of them were a far cry from amazing, but she either saw something in the work itself or in me, maybe both. From that day on, she figured out a way to incorporate the drawing aspect to every one of my assignments.
Stepping around her desk, I moved to the whiteboard, picked up a black dry erase marker, and began to draw.
I lost track of time, lost track of my nerves and worry, as I transformed the whiteboard into a collage of Persian cats—Ms. Westfield never had less than three living with her at any one time—and tattoo-style script of various Shakespeare lines I recalled. When I was done, I wrote a simple thank-you near the bottom of the board. I didn’t sign my name. She would know.
Standing back, I took in my handiwork, letting the years mingle and dance together. I’d been so grateful for my new life. For my friendship with Gilbert that had led me to being brought into his family, for Ms. Westfield, for the town itself. I’d thought the worst was over, and in many ways, it was. I was away from my father’s physical violence and my mother’s religious mental abuse. I no longer had to hide or worry about who I was. I hadn’t seen my biological family in years and each day that passed made it all that much better. Life could only get better from there on out. But a new sort of complication was headed my way, one that would make the following years incapable of truly being at peace or ever satisfied.
What I would give to be in that sweet spot between escaped abuse and unending guilt and desire.
I needed something nicer for Ms. Westfield than a whiteboard full of Persian cats and fancy lettering. Maybe she’d like some tattoo work done. She had to be in her sixties by now, but she was always a cool lady.
“Ms. Westfield and her cats. She was one of my favorite teachers, but the constant trail of cat hair she left behind drove me a little batty at times.”
I jumped, startled at the abrupt sound of Micah’s voice, but I didn’t turn around. Nor was I surprised. Speak of the devil. “Your ability to walk into locked rooms when people are trying to be by themselves has never been your best quality.”
Micah didn’t answer as quickly as I thought he would, nor with his typical charm or bravado. The pause made me worry I’d hurt his feelings, and I tried to push that guilt away.
His footsteps sounded closer, but I kept my focus on the whiteboard. Desire and frustration left me frozen.
“What do you want me to do, Connor? You’ve been avoiding me ever since Charlie’s.”
“That’s only a week. After being forced to sit and have dinner with you and your boyfriend, I think I’m entitled to a week alone, don’t you?” Goddammit, why was I angry? Even more so, why was I letting my voice betray that fact? I turned and found him sitting on one of the desks, his legs splayed, his hands resting between them, fingers curled over the edge. There were no lights on in the room, but the wall of windows allowed plenty of moonlight in. I’d give anything if I could see Micah just once and he not be the most beautiful man in the world. It would really help.
Actually, it probably wouldn’t.
There was a twitch of a smirk on his lips. Clearly I hadn’t even come close to hiding my reaction to him. “That shitshow at Charlie’s wasn’t my fault. Moses was the one wanting to eat with us.”
I bristled instantly. “Don’t blame Moses.”
“You know what—” Micah started to hop off the desk, temper flashing over his face, but then he shook his head and settled back to his original position. He didn’t finish his thought, but he let out a long breath.
Fuck, I was being an ass. Obviously Micah blamed Moses for lots of things. But I also knew Micah well enough to be certain he fought that impulse every second of every day. We were both aware I was the one to blame. But the minute Moses had walked into my life, I’d latched on to the excuse he’d provided. In my defense, it was the right call. The only call. It still was. “Sorry, Micah. You’re great with Moses, and you’ve done more for him than anybody.”
He didn’t speak, but studied me for a little bit. His gaze traveled from me to the whiteboard, a different sort of smile playing on his lips, and then he sighed, the tension gone. “So, where is the mini-Connor tonight? I figured this would be way too much gayness to throw at him.”
“You think?” I couldn’t hold back a derisive snort at that. “He’s babysitting Shawn Carlisle’s kids.”
“I can see him being good at that. Not to mention, Moses isn’t afraid of hard work.”
“That is true. But yes, he’s still thrown off by seeing two guys hold hands in real life. This would’ve been too much, way too much. Probably enough to send him running back to our stupid family for fear of hellfire overtaking the gym.” I’d had a similar reaction years ago, and I’d been younger, had more of a transition to it all. Moses was nearly an adult and had been plunged in headfirst.
“You know they’re building the youth center close to where Adrian’s and my farm is, right?”
I nodded. Just a little north of Olema, close to Inverness, close to my family—no, not my family, but close to the ones who shared my name and had given me life. The ones I’d managed not to speak to or see for nearly two decades. “Yeah.”
Nothing else needed to be said. Mom’s location choice had been obvious. Choosing the spot right next to the place that had given her me and now Moses.
Silence ticked by for a few moments, and when Micah smiled, a whisper of warning tingled through me. I could never figure out exactly what it was—the way his lips moved, some glint in his eye—even after all these years, but my body had. That switch in Micah’s demeanor, letting me know if I didn’t run as fast as I could, things were going to end up how I didn’t want them to. No… they’d end up exactly how I wanted them to, just not how they should. “So, Pete Marks, huh? I didn’t know you were a daddy chaser.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “I think that would make me a grandpa chaser, don’t you?”
Micah shrugged. “Point taken. Still, you’re not going to find a better guy than Pete Marks. You could do a lot worse.”
How many times had we talked about dating or fucking other people, sometimes to convince ourselves it was over, at other times simply trying to hurt each other. Teasing about dating Pete was ludicrous enough to be pleasant. “Yeah, I was relieved he won.”
“Oh, come on.” Micah rolled his eyes. “We both know you set that up in advance, though I don’t even want to know how many tattoo sessions you are going to have to do to pay for that.”
I wasn’t going to try to deny it. “And every one of them will be well worth it.” Micah’s blue eyes studied me, and though there was Ms. Westfield’s desk between us I grew aware of how close we actually were. There were only two options, and the one I wanted most was to leap over the desk, tackle him, and fall to the floor. I chose the second, allowing a cruel tint to my words. “The guy who bought your boyfriend sure was attractive.”
Micah stiffened.
I could’ve stopped, but I didn’t. If I did, things really would end up the way I wanted them. “Seth with him right now? Getting his time over with?”
“No.” His whisper was cold, angry. “He went home. I told him I was going to help the family take down all the decorations.”
A variety of mean things flitted through my mind. Pointing out that Seth should’ve offered to stay and help—though I knew him well enough to bet he probably had, or asking if there was someone else waiting at home. Instead I chose to attack Micah. “Oh, so you lied to him.”
He didn’t even flinch. This game was an old one, which we both played. “I’ll help. As soon we’re done here.”
It seemed the game wasn’t working as well as it used to. I placed my hand on the top of Ms. Westfield’s desk, more to ground myself and ensure I stayed where I was as opposed to actually providing support. I tried again. “Still, I bet the date he has will be something. The two of them would be quite a pair.”
The second the words left my mouth, I realized why the game wasn’t playing out as I’d intended. Why Micah wasn’t pissed and yelling at me. Reminding me that I was the reason for my own jealousy. That it was my fear and weakness that kept me miserable. Though my words were harsh and accusing, I was tempting him, taunting him.
Fuck.
Even though I knew it, was suddenly aware of it, I couldn’t stop. “Didn’t it bother you, watching him sell himself to the highest bidder?”
Micah slid off the desk and slowly walked toward me. “Did it bother you? Having to arrange for Pete to buy you when it’s me you want?”
He was at the edge of Ms. Westfield’s desk, a couple more steps and he’d be pressed up against me. It was enough to wake me up. Enough to give me the strength I needed. “Don’t do this, Micah. You’re dating Seth. He’s a great guy. He deserves better than this shit.”
“We are open, you know that. Everyone knows that. That’s the only way Seth does relationships.” Micah closed the distance and came to a stop less than six inches from me. “Quit worrying about Seth.”
One more try. “One of us has to.”
“Shut the fuck up, Connor. You don’t get to play this both ways. The only reason I’m with Seth is your fucking fault.”
The anger in Micah’s voice brought a wash of relief and regret. It worked. Crisis avoided.
Micah took the final step, then with a quick motion raised both his hands to my chest and pushed.
I stumbled back, crashing into the whiteboard, dry erase markers and erasers bouncing off their metal tray and falling to the floor. He’d never hit me in anger before, but maybe this was good. The beginning of the end. We could finally finish this. It would be a relief to have it done, a relief to have him take out his fury on me. I deserved it. I’d stolen so many years from him.
He followed me in a rush, and I closed my eyes, preparing for the strike, welcoming it. Micah’s hands smashed against my chest again, but this time they stayed there for a moment and then began to move down my stomach.
I opened my eyes in confusion, not seeing Micah’s furious face inches from mine like I expected. I glanced down, following the feel of his hands over my body, watched in mute surrender as he lowered himself to his knees.
I’d failed. I’d given it my best, the game was over, and I’d failed.
Micah didn’t look up, didn’t hesitate to ask for permission, just unbuttoned my jeans with a flick of his thumb and finger, then pulled the zipper down. In less than a heartbeat, he had my pants around my knees and my cock in his mouth.
The wet heat of him surrounding my hardness was nearly as known to me as my own hand, and the sound of his groan as he tasted me had reached my ears countless times before, and both drove me wild. I clenched my fingers in his silken dark blond hair and held tight, instantly thrusting into his mouth, fucking his full lips hungrily. It had been so long, so very long. Nearly a year since I felt him.
Nearly a year, we’d done so well. And we were fucking it up.
I let go of his hair and sidestepped, pulling free from his mouth, his teeth scraping against my cock at the sudden motion. “No, Micah. We can’t do this. We can stop right now. It won’t fuck up anything.”
As Micah stood, he pulled his polo over his head and dropped it to the floor. “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up.”
As familiar as the feel of his mouth on me, the sounds of his arousal, and the sight of his stunning shirtless body were, the emotion in his words was new, and it gave me pause.
The game had worked. He was furious. Angrier than I’d ever heard. But beneath the growl, his desperation called to me. The hurt he’d endured over our separation screamed out to my own, and I had no choice but to answer.
I crashed into him, wrapping my arm around his neck and crushing our lips and bodies together.
Micah dug his fingers into my back and then managed to grip my skin. It hurt. But God, I didn’t care, I just needed to feel him again. No matter what he was doing to my body, as long as his hands were on me, as long as his lips were on me, as long as his skin touched mine.
There was no clarity in the sensations, everything was a tangle of arms and legs, tongues and lips. In the midst of the chaos, the rest of our clothes disappeared, and then I was the one on my knees, taking Micah’s long thick cock into my mouth and down my throat. The salty tang of him only ignited my suppressed hunger.
Everything vanished, the town, my past, my present, the classroom. Moses and Seth were no more. Micah was no longer my brother. Our matching tattoos identifying us as family faded from our skin.
It was just Micah. Just me.
He was just the man I loved and lusted over for years, the man no one else had ever been able to measure up against. The one who set my heart on fire and my soul at peace.
And I needed him. Needed him to fill me. Feel his release over my tongue, down my throat. To take him inside of me, to own him, possess him.
No impulse of giving him pleasure or making it last cut through my frenzy. I skewered myself over his cock, shoving him deep into my throat, gagging, and then doing it again, never pulling back for breath or thought.
“Oh, that’s how I want it.” His large calloused hands gripped my hair as he fucked into me. “Fuck, yes, Connor. Take my load.” Micah held my head still, stopping my rhythm as he turned loose, causing me to gag more. “Yes. Yes. Take it.”
Then he was spilling down my throat. His cries from above me mingled with the sound of me trying to catch my breath while swallowing him down, refusing to lose a drop of him.
He thrust, and then thrust again. His swollen cock throbbing in my mouth; each surge of come bringing me closer to my own edge, though I hadn’t even touched myself. A final thrust and he pulled free.
I looked up at him from my kneeling position, panting. I expected to see him slack against the desk, spent. Maybe guilt already rising. It wasn’t. If anything, the heat in his expression had become an inferno.
“Stand up.”
I did, gripping the edge of the desk, my legs feeling wobbly.
Micah kissed me, sweeping his tongue over my mouth, groaning at the taste of his release. His hand snaked between us and encircled my cock. He swirled his hand, using his fingers to cover my erection in the slick precome. He broke the kiss, and met my gaze. “Fuck me.”
God yes. Fuck, yes. There had not been a night in the last eleven months when I hadn’t craved being inside of him, when I hadn’t needed his heat, desired the way he writhed against me. Nothing and no one else had been able to come close to satiating that need.
But a blowjob was one thing; fucking was a different thing entirely. “Micah, we—”
“I said, fuck me.” His anger hadn’t abated, though it was overpowered by the cadence of his desire. Micah shoved the rolling chair away and hopped up on Ms. Westfield’s desk. Placing his arms behind him, he supported his weight, leaned back, lifted his leg slightly. “Connor. Fuck me.”
As many times as I’d been inside Micah, as many times as I’d seen his body, explored every inch and crevice of him, this was new. I’ve never seen him take that exact position, and definitely not in this manner. And once again, the years folded together and came full circle. This room where such an important part of my future had been revealed. It only made sense Micah would offer himself to me here.
I attempted to shake the thought away. Micah wasn’t my future. Couldn’t be.
“Connor.” Micah’s sharp cry brought me back to the moment, and I met his gaze. “I need you inside of me. I can’t take it another day.”
Neither could I.
He lifted his legs a little higher, giving me room to step between, but then another thought seeped in.
“I don’t have a condom or lube.”
Micah rolled his eyes. In the middle of his heat and lust, he actually rolled his eyes, causing the love I felt for him to sing even louder than my desire for his body. “Quit acting like you don’t know me, Connor. You know I don’t need lube, especially considering how much you’re already leaking.” I started to speak again, but he cut me off. “And since when do we use condoms?”
The hurt behind Micah’s last words was evident. I wasn’t sure if he’d attempted to hide it or not. He was right. We had never used condoms. Never needed to. We were always safe and protected with everyone else. But things changed in the last year. Neither of us had ever had an actual relationship before.
“What about Seth?”
Micah wrapped his legs around my waist, hooking his ankles behind my back. He almost sounded annoyed. “What about Seth?”
“You guys have been together for months. You’re still using condoms?”
He flinched, and there was another flash of anger mingling in the hurt. “Of course we are. Don’t be an idiot. It’s always been you. It will always only be you.”
Fuck. I kissed him, shoving my tongue deep into his mouth, groaning as his body arched against me, and while one of his arms circled my neck holding me to him.
He was mine. He had always been mine. I wrapped my arms around his back, digging my fingers into him, unable to get him close enough.
Micah managed to reach between us with his free hand, swept the precome over the head of my cock, and lined me up to his entrance.
It was all I needed. Still kissing him, I thrust forward, slowly, just enough that my dick slipped in. He hissed into the kiss and his ass clenched at the head of my cock. I paused for a moment, allowing him to catch a breath through his nose, and then I felt him relax. Slowly, I pushed the rest of the way in. I whimpered at the feel of him, the heat, the tightness, the pleasure as he squeezed his ring of muscle around my shaft. When I was buried deep inside of him, I broke the kiss and began to rock, watching his face, loving the pleasure that washed over his expression as I filled him.
“God, I’ve needed you, Connor.” Micah unhooked his ankles and spread his legs a little farther, giving me more room.
I increased my speed, still holding him tight against me. “I love you.”
He smiled. “Duh, you fucking moron.” His words were staccato, coming out in staggered breaths matching my thrusts.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Micah’s grip around my neck tightened, and he pulled my head down so his lips were next to my ear, and his stubble scraped against my jaw. “Come in me.” And then he bit my earlobe.
Two more thrusts and I let out a cry of my own, and came. I arched back, pulling my ear from his mouth so I could bury myself deeper inside of him. It seemed I hadn’t orgasmed in decades. Thrust after thrust I came, again and again. Feeling like every ounce of tension and suffocated desire was spilling out of me.
At last I slowed. Micah glanced down between us and chuckled. “Holy fuck, Connor. I could feel that. You’ve been saving up that load.”
I had been, though I hadn’t realized the moment I’d been saving it for.
He looked back up at me, his smile returning. “I love you too, by the way.”
I kissed him, and then slowly pulled myself free, making sure he was steady on the desktop. The desktop…. Somehow I’d managed to forget where we were. I glanced toward the classroom door and through the small rectangular window looking out on the dark hallway. My God, we’d been idiots. Anyone could’ve seen or heard. “Fuck.”
Micah looked over his shoulder, then back at me, his expression serious. “Didn’t think about that. Nobody saw.”
Maybe nobody did, but still.
Micah shrugged. The fucker actually shrugged. “Well, we decided we were going to tell people before Moses showed up. Maybe it’s time.”
He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I took a step away, shaking my head. “No, Micah. This isn’t a joke. We can’t do this again. We’ve never been so careless. And of all times.”
“I don’t think you’re giving your nephew enough credit. Or the rest of our family. It really won’t be the end of the world.”
“You don’t know that.” I did, though. I could feel it. The world would crumble, quite literally. We would lose everything, including each other. I took another step back, then swiped my jeans off the ground and began to put them on.
“Connor, stop.” Micah slid off the desk and touched my arm. “Don’t run. Not this time. Please.”
I managed to get the jeans zipped up but not buttoned. “Sorry. This wasn’t right. Not right at all.” I moved away from him, snagging my shirt, then my shoes and socks before I headed across the classroom. “It was my fault. I’m sorry.” Before I got to the door, I glanced back. Micah stood there beside the desk, beautiful and naked, shoulders slumped in defeat and his expression a cold mask. “I’m sorry, Micah. I really am.”
Then I was out the door and rushing down the hallways of my old high school, away from the gym and the voices of Micah’s and my family as they deconstructed the circus.
Maybe that’s what I was to the Bryant family. The little sideshow freak. The one who’d corrupted the baby of the family.


NEW TO THE SERIES? START YOUR JOURNEY TODAY.


THE PALISADE
Kindle Edition
There is no such thing as too many books.
Buy your paperback copy and place on your shelf with PRIDE.
Dying to read but to busy? Why not try the Audio Edition. Listen FREE with Audible trial.


THE GARDEN


Kindle Edition
Buy your paperback copy and add to your collection.



THE VERANDA


Kindle Edition
Available to buy in print. 1-Click your paperback copy here.



THE SHIPWRECK


Kindle Edition
Now available in Paperback. 1-Click your copy TODAY!
Rosalind ABEL PROFILE PIC


Rosalind Abel grew up tending chickens alongside her sweet and faithful Chow, Lord Elgin. While her fantasy of writing novels was born during her teen years, she never would have dreamed she’d one day publish steamy romances about gorgeous men. However, sometimes life turns out better than planned.
In between crafting scorching sex scenes and helping her men find their soul mates, Rosalind enjoys cooking, collecting toys, and making the best damn scrapbooks in the world (this claim hasn’t been proven, but she’s willing to put good money on it).
She adores MM Romance, the power it has to sweep the reader away into worlds filled with passion, steam, and love. Rosalind also enjoys her collection of plot bunnies and welcomes new fuzzy ones into her home all the time, so feel free to send any adorable ones her way.


Connect with Rosalind


Thank you for touring with Love Has No Gender the brighter side of  Jo&Isa♡Books


Advertisements

Chapter Reveal: FRACTURED SILENCE by Carrie Ann Ryan

fs-teaser1

Carrie Ann Ryan’s FRACTURED SILENCE releases April 18th…but we couldn’t wait that long! You can get a sneak peek at the first chapter of FRACTURED SILENCE below!

 

 

Fractured Silence (1)

About FRACTURED SILENCE

The Talon Pack continues with a dark secret that could shatter the future of the Packs, or save them all.

Parker Jamenson is the son of three Packs, the sole mediator between every Pack in the United States and Europe, and…he’s dying. He knows he doesn’t have much left in him and is in desperate need of a mate. But with the new and unyielding changes thanks to the Moon Goddess, he might not have as much time as he thinks.

Brandon Brentwood is the Omega of the Talon Pack and the youngest of his family. He’s not only one of the famed triplets; he’s also the most secretive. There’s a good reason for that, however, and when a shocking revelation meshes the past and present in a very unexpected way, he’ll look to not only Parker but also a disgraced human to save them all.

Avery Montag knows she’s the daughter of a traitor and doesn’t have much to give the wolves in the way of atonement. But she’ll do everything she can to pay for her father’s sins and find a way to end the war between the humans and the wolves.

When the three turn to each other in a time of unrest and for vastly different reasons, temptation burns and seduction beckons. Only, the past, present, and future are never as solid as they seem, and the path the trio thought to travel may just vanish before they’re ready.

Add FRACTURED SILENCE to your Goodreads list here!

FRACTURED SILENCE releases April 18th – preorder your copy now!

✦ Amazon http://amzn.to/2j7vD99

✦ iBooks http://apple.co/24mk437

✦ Nook http://bit.ly/2e533YX

✦ Kobo http://bit.ly/2dXsxST

✦ Google Play http://bit.ly/2duYCmR

fs-teaser2

Get a Sneak Peek at the First Chapter of FRACTURED SILENCE

Chapter One

Before

 

Parker Jamenson woke with a start as someone knocked on the door to the small cabin he’d been staying in for the duration of his visit to this particular European Pack. Using his wolf’s senses, he inhaled deeply, noting that the person on the other side of the door was one of the younger wolves that had shown him around when he’d first gotten there. He hadn’t met most of the Pack, as the people of the den hadn’t been too keen on his presence. He’d only just fallen asleep in the armchair fully clothed, exhausted from the trip.

He’d already spoken to the Alpha about coming together with the Redwoods in times of war, but the damn man hadn’t been too eager to reveal his existence to the world. All Alphas were required to meet with Parker as the Voice of the Wolves because he was goddess-touched, but that didn’t mean they had to listen. Hell, most of them would rather bury their heads in the

sand and ignore what was going on around them. And while his own Pack might be older than most in the United States, the European Packs were ancient and set in their ways. No one wanted to deal with the fact that the humans were aware of the shifters’ existence, but Parker knew that soon, no one would have a choice.

He opened the door after a moment and nodded at the young woman on the other side. “Tatiana.”

She smiled coyly at him before licking her lips. He could scent her wolf brushing up against her skin, wanting touch, but Parker wasn’t interested. He just wanted to get this meeting with the elders over with and head back home. Her long, honey-colored hair had been in a braid when he’d first met her, but now it looked as if she’d brushed it out over her shoulders and back so it cascaded over her curves. She’d also put on a long, white, flowing dress instead of the tan one she’d worn when he’d shown up.

And though she looked to be his same age and her power felt even younger, she dressed as if she were some maiden from a bygone era on the hunt for a knight.

Parker would not be that knight— no matter how much those eyes of hers flashed yearning.

“Parker,” she breathed. “I’m to take you to the elder circle for your last meeting before you go.” A pause. “It’s a shame we didn’t have more time to get to know one another while you were here. I understand you leave in the morning, but perhaps the meeting won’t take long, and I can show you more of the grounds. I’m sure your wolf could use some exercise.” She smiled. “And though it’s not a full moon, there’s just enough moonlight for the run to be… thrilling.”

He held back a chuckle that wanted to spill out since that would have been rude. She wasn’t hiding anything she wanted, and while he might have appreciated that on another day, he just wanted to go home. Besides, his wolf wasn’t interested in the woman in front of him, and while that might not matter for a quick night of heat, he didn’t have it in him to ignore his wolf tonight. Maybe I’m getting older, and in need of a mate, he thought. Or maybe he was just tired and missed his family. Either way, Tatiana wasn’t for him.

“I’m afraid I will have to get ready to head out after the elder circle.” He held back a frown at the crestfallen look on her face. They hadn’t said more than a few words before this, and though he was a new wolf to her, he wasn’t the only healthy adult male wolf around.

“I understand,” she said softly. “Follow me, then.” She turned without another word, but he didn’t miss the extra sway to her hips— an invitation if he were to change his mind.

Keeping his thoughts to himself so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt her again if he were to change his mind— which he wouldn’t— he followed her through the winding, dirt paths of the den toward the oldest part at the edge of the center. It made sense that this was where the

elders chose to live— just slightly outside the most used part of the den for privacy but not near the edge in case of an attack. As elders, they were to not only be respected but also protected.

Tatiana left Parker with a nod, and he bent to walk under a low-lying branch so he could make it to the elder’s circle. Encircling the firepit were seven older wolves of various sizes— three women and four men. At his entry, they all looked up as a unit and stared at him.

If he hadn’t seen his own elders do this before, he would have been creeped out. Elder wolves were those who had either lost their mates long ago or had never been mated, so they didn’t have a connection to the new world or the Pack except through their bonds to the Alpha and those in the hierarchy. After living for centuries, some wolves could no longer deal with the drastic changes of society and chose to cloister themselves. Many of the wolves held immense power on their own because of their age and used that strength to protect the Pack in any way they could.

Parker looked back at the elders respectfully. Though each of the wolves had at least two centuries on him, none of them looked a day over thirty-five. Wolf genetics never ceased to amaze him and he’d been born a wolf.

“Parker Jamenson, of the Redwoods,” the woman closest to him said after a moment. “Welcome. I am Aurora. We’re pleased you were able to take the time to meet with us before you head out on your journey home.”

Parker bowed his head in deference. “I will always meet with my elders, Aurora. To ignore those who have lived the past is to ignore what the future may bring.”

She smiled softly at his words and gestured for him to sit down before introducing him to the others. He kept their names in the back of his mind, but he knew that it was Aurora who led here, and she would be the one to speak.

“We’ve asked you to join us because we believe we have something that once belonged to your people. Your line.”

Parker’s eyes widened. “The Redwoods?” How did something of theirs find its way here?

“Not that line.” Aurora’s eyes went gold, her wolf rising to the surface. “The line of the first hunter. You are the son of the son of the son of the line of the first hunter, are you not?”

Parker froze. Not many people knew that his family came from that line. In fact, he’d only recently learned that his ancestor was the first human to be made into a wolf by the moon goddess as a punishment for what the man had done to defenseless prey. She’d forced the man to become the thing he killed for sport, compelled him to share a soul with that of a wolf. From there, new wolves were made, and shifters were born.

His uncle, Logan, had dealt with horrible side effects from that past, but other than his strength, Parker hadn’t really thought about what that meant. Logan had been far too aggressive even at a young age, and it had taken him years to learn how to fully control his wolf. He, like Parker, had also had to learn how to use their strength wisely when they’d been mere pups and still had to deal with some bursts of overextension some days. The family bloodline was diluted over time, and Parker had had more recent issues with it thanks to his birth father. His mother might be of the line of their honorable ancestors and campfire stories, but his birth father had been one of nightmares. He’d never truly met the man as he’d been young when Corbin died, but he knew the stories. Knew that the former Central Alpha had killed countless in his quest for power.

He pushed that thought out of his head, as he knew just letting it in would enrage him.

“I’m of that line, yes,” he answered after a moment. No need to lie as he had a feeling these wolves knew far more than this. “What did you find?” he asked.

Aurora nodded at one of the male wolves after Parker had spoken. The male stood up with shaky hands, a large box wrapped in cloth clasped between them.

Aurora took it gently from him. “This box is made of the woods of our people— Redwood, Aspen, Oak, and so forth. It is said those first Packs, along with the first ever, came together to make it.”

Parker frowned. “What’s in the box?”

“Open it and see.”

Though his wolf had stood at attention as soon as they’d mentioned the box, it wasn’t until Aurora unwrapped it— keeping her hands on the cloth rather than the wood— that his wolf howled.

He frowned. “I’m not going to open something I haven’t looked into with wolves I don’t know. I’m sorry if that’s disrespectful, but that just doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.”

Aurora’s eyes flashed, but he had a feeling it was more out of respect than anger. “It’s good you’re cautious. That will help.”

“Help what?”

“There is a prophecy,” she said after a moment. He blinked.

“A prophecy?” Why did he feel like he’d suddenly jumped into an old Indiana Jones movie?

Aurora’s eyes unfocused as she spoke in a deeper voice.

“A wolf of three Packs can break their will or unite them all.

“Once united, the Packs will reveal…

“If broken, the Packs will fall…”

Parker’s wolf rushed to the surface at her words, and he tried to blink, attempted to reach out and catch the woman as she fell forward after she’d finished speaking. Only he felt as if he were moving slower than usual, his mind not quite where it should be. His hand brushed the top of the box, and it slid to the ground, opening on impact.

He looked down, his head going fuzzy, his mouth dry.

An ancient dagger, or perhaps the tip of a spear, rolled out of the box amidst a dust cloud that slapped at his face.

“The weapon of the first hunter,” Aurora croaked before passing out completely. The others surrounded them, yet he could do nothing but try to keep himself upright.

Parker tried to speak but couldn’t force his mouth to work. Instead, his body broke out in a cold sweat, and he fell face-first to the ground.

The last thing he thought about before passing out was his family.

They weren’t here to help him.

No one was here to help him.

He was all alone.

And it was his fault.

Again.

 

About Carrie Ann Ryan

Carrie Ann Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance. Her works include the Montgomery Ink, Redwood Pack, Talon Pack, and Gallagher Brothers series, which have sold over 2.0 million books worldwide. She started writing while in graduate school for her advanced degree in chemistry and hasn’t stopped since. Carrie Ann has written over fifty novels and novellas with more in the works. When she’s not writing about bearded tattooed men or alpha wolves that need to find their mates, she’s reading as much as she can and exploring the world of baking and gourmet cooking.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Newsletter | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest

Chapter Reveal – Wide Open Spaces by Aurora Rose Reynolds

 

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Shelby

Shutting off my car, I stare at the two-story house I used to call home. It looks the same as it did when I left. The deep blue is still vibrant, even more so now against the backdrop of the gray sky behind it. The white porch is still welcoming, with flowers hanging from the banister.

My grandmother and I would spend hours planting flowers in those boxes during the summer. When she passed away during my sophomore year of high school, I made sure to keep up the tradition in her memory. It looks like, in my absence over these last fifteen years, someone else had taken over the job.

Looking at the bright blooms growing wild, hanging over the sides of the boxes, I wonder if Granddad hired someone to plant them for him when he left to live in Florida. He never mentioned that he cared about the flowers we planted. Honesty, I don’t remember him mentioning them. Growing up, I didn’t even think he noticed, but now, looking at the blooming buds that are artfully arranged, I know they meant something to him after all.

“Mom?” Turning my head, I look at my son Hunter and force a smile as aching pain and regret slice through my chest.

“Sorry, honey. I spaced out. Do you want to unpack tonight, or do you want to wait until tomorrow, kiddo?”

Looking over his shoulder, he eyes the boxes and suitcases piled in the back then looks at me. I hate the sadness I see in his eyes. I hate I’m the cause of his pain. I know he misses his father already, and I know that at ten years old, he doesn’t understand why we’re no longer together even if it’s been over two years since we separated and divorced.

“Tomorrow,” he grumbles, and I feel that ache in my chest expand. He hates me for moving him across the country. Away from his friends, away from everything he knew. And I hate myself a little bit, too, for failing miserably at keeping my family together. I just hope this move will be a new start for us.

“Tomorrow,” I agree softly, unhooking my belt and opening the door.

Rounding the hood of the van, Hunter has already made it to the porch and is waiting at the top of the stairs, with his eyes pointed over my shoulder. Stopping, I look behind me as rain soaks through my clothes. I can’t believe how much the town has changed and grown. When I’d left home, you could see the sound from the front porch of my grandparents’ home. Now, the view is blocked by houses that have been built up side-by-side across the road. The street looks more like a New York City block, rather than a street in small-town Alaska.

“Is it always raining?” Hunter’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I turn back toward him and take the steps slowly, noticing they are rotting out in a few spots. Something I will have to fix soon.

“Not always, but this is a rainforest, so I guess the answer in some ways is yes,” I tell him, when I make it up to the covered porch.

His brows draw together over his blue eyes, making him look like his father, as he asks, “This is a rainforest?”

“It is.” I want so badly to reach out and run my finger down his cheek, but I keep my hand locked at my side. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but some time ago, he stopped wanting my affection. Stopped being my little boy.

“Really?” he asks curiously, with wide eyes. “It doesn’t look like a rainforest,” he states, and he’s right; it doesn’t look like what you might imagine a rainforest would look like.

“It doesn’t look like one, but it is all the same.” I smile, and his eyes move over my face then to the view, and his face loses the curiosity it held a moment ago.

He turns, muttering, “Whatever.”

Biting my lip, I take the key the lawyer mailed me out of the front pocket of my jeans, put it in the lock, and turn. The door opens with a loud creak and dust rises up from the floors. A loud alarm sounds, making us both jump. Running into the house, I look frantically for some kind of alarm system, finally finding the small white box off the door in the kitchen. Flipping the panel open, I stare at the numbers.

“What’s the code?” Hunter yells over the siren, covering his ears.

“I don’t know,” I yell back, pressing in every single number combination I can think of, but none of them work.

“Is it in the papers in the car?”

“Maybe,” I yell, then run for the door and down the stairs to the van. Swinging open the back door, I shove three boxes out of the way before finding the one I’m looking for. Ripping off the tape, I shuffle through the contents and scan the papers the lawyer sent, searching for the code, but stop and look over the hood of the van when the alarm goes quiet. “What was the code?” I ask Hunter, when he steps out onto the porch.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the house, like he’s waiting for someone to come out, which makes me frown.

“Did it just stop?” I question, slamming the van door. His eyes come back to me and he shakes his head then starts to open his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by a deep voice.

“I turned it off.”

It takes one breath to realize who just stepped out of my grandparents’ house. One breath for every moment I spent with the man standing before me to flash through my head. Two seconds for me to feel my world come to a stop.

The boy I once knew is gone. There’s nothing boyish about Zach Watters anymore. His jaw is now sharp, the stubble on it giving him a rugged look while accentuating his full lips. His dark hair has silvered around the edges, drawing attention to his expressive hazel eyes that look like they hold a thousand stories. His red and black plaid shirt is stretched tight across broad shoulders, giving a glimpse of the muscles it’s covering. He’s still every bit as beautiful as he once was, only more so now that time has aged him, taking him from a handsome boy to a gorgeous man.

Swallowing, I look at my son then back again. “Thanks,” I whisper, and Zach’s eyebrows pull together as he sweeps his gaze over me. I have no doubt that I too have changed, but unlike him, time hasn’t been good to me. I’ve gained a few too many pound from eating my feelings over the last year. My skin has lost its youthful glow, and my hair has grown out at the roots without my bi-monthly maintenance appointments.

“Shelby?” he asks, but all I can do is confirm with a nod, since my mouth has dried up and I can’t find my voice. “Jesus.” His eyes widen as he looks down at Hunter then back toward me. “What are you doing here?”

“My… my son Hunter and I are moving in,” I stutter, caught off guard by his presence. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I wouldn’t see him when I moved home, but I had convinced myself that seeing him would be on my terms, or sporadic at best.

“What?” he whispers, leaning back on his boots, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ignoring his question, I start to move back toward the stairs, asking, “Do you mind giving me the code for the alarm? I’m sure it’s somewhere in the papers the lawyer sent, but…” I stop and look to the left when Zach’s name is called. Standing on the porch of the house next door is a woman I know he got with a few months after I left. A woman he married soon after she gave birth to their twins. A woman I used to call my friend.

A woman I now hate.

I absently hear him say something to her, but the nausea turning my stomach and the sadness prickling my skin have me moving quickly up the steps, focusing on not falling over as I move past him. “Never mind about the code. I’m sure I’ll find it. Thanks for shutting off the alarm,” I mumble, as I walk through the door.  

“Mom.”

“Come on, honey. Let’s have a look around, and then we need to get to the store.”

“Mom,” Hunter repeats, sounding confused. I plaster a fake smile on my face.

“The pizza place we drove past has the best pizza I’ve ever tasted. We could do that for dinner.”

“Mom.”

“Right here, honey.” I laugh, even though that laugh feels like glass edging down my windpipe.

Studying me for a long moment, he finally mutters, “Pizza sounds good. I’m gonna call Dad before we go, and tell him we’re here.”

“Sure,” I agree, watching him pull out his cell phone and walk toward the kitchen. I didn’t agree that he needed a cell phone at his age, but like all things with his dad, there was never any kind of conversation. He didn’t ask what I thought about it; he just did what he wanted to do.

I hear a familiar throat clear. “You’re back?” Zach asks from behind me, making my shoulders slump forward and my eyes slide closed briefly.

“Yeah.” I turn to face him and wrap my arms around my waist, feeling my stomach twist into knots. When I left town, we didn’t fight, didn’t yell at each other, didn’t say things we would end up regretting one day. I just knew there was too much pain between us to make what we had left work, and Zach, knowing the same, didn’t put up a fight when I told him my plans.

“You’re staying here?” he asks, and I nod. Running a hand over his head as his eyes move to the right, where Tina had been moments ago, before bringing his gaze back to mine. “The code for the alarm is one, two, three, four. I told Pat to change it, but you know Pat,” he mutters, and I nod, knowing exactly how stubborn Gramps was. Shoving his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, his voice drops. “I’m really sorry about Pat.”

“Thanks.” I hold myself a little tighter. His eyes drop to my arms around my waist and soften before moving up to meet mine once more.

“If you need anything, I’m next door.” He lifts his chin in that direction, and my world stops again.

“Pardon?” I breathe.

“I live next door.”

Okay, maybe I should have guessed that, since Tina was over there, but I didn’t, and this is not good… as in really not good. There is not one damn thing I can do about it, though, unless I want to load Hunter back into the van and live out of it for the next year or so, which I don’t think will win me any brownie points with my son.

“Cool,” I whisper pathetically, with nothing else to say. Something familiar-looking and soft slides through his features, making my stomachache twist again, but this time in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

“Well…” I pause, needing this encounter to be over. “Thanks again for turning off the alarm. I wish we had time to catch up,” I lie. “But I need to get to the store before it closes, and then I need to get Hunter some food. Growing boys don’t do well without food,” I ramble, as I put my hand to the door, wanting so badly to shove it closed.

“Sure.” He nods then looks over my shoulder, into the house. “Nice meeting you, Hunter.”

“You too—” Hunter looks between Zach and me.

“Mr. Watters, honey,” I mutter, answering his unspoken question, as he comes to stand at my side with his cell phone in his hand.

“You too, Mr. Watters.”

Zach’s eyes come to me and his face softens once more. “See you around, Shelby.”

“Yeah, see you around,” I lie again, since I plan to pretend he doesn’t exist from this moment forward. I wait, even though I don’t want to, until he is walking away to close the door then stand there for a moment, trying to process what just happened.

“How do you know him, Mom?” Hunter asks.

“When I was younger,” I say, turning to face him, “we were friends.” I shrug, looking toward the stairs. “My room used to be in the attic—it’s the best room in the house—and if you make it there before me, I’ll let you have it.” I raise my brows before taking off in a sprint up the stairs, listening to my son, who I haven’t heard laugh in weeks, giggle as he runs up the stairs behind me.

“Wow, this is awesome.”

Looking over my shoulder at Hunter I smile as he walks into the room with wide eyes. “I told you it’s the coolest room in the house.” I used to love hanging out up here when I was a teenager. The vastness of the space, with its angled ceilings and four large skylights, was a cool place to spend time. Looking at my son now, I can see the excitement in his eyes as he wanders around the room.

“Do you think I could get a telescope?” he asks, looking up at the cloud-covered sky through one of the skylights.

“Definitely.” I bump my shoulder with his as I walk past him toward the couch in the corner that’s covered with a sheet and pull it off. “We may also want to find a cover for this thing while we’re at it,” I say, looking from the floral-covered couch to his scrunched up face.

“Yeah.” He nods, moving to the bed, where he rips off the sheet that is covering the mattress. “I can’t wait to tell Dad about this. He’s going to think it’s so cool,” he mutters, and I bite my tongue to keep from saying, No, your dad will definitely not think it’s cool.

Max, Hunter’s father, grew up wealthy. He never owned anything that had been used. Even when we got married, he insisted I sell the Victorian house I bought when I graduated college, wanting instead for us to buy a newly built house in a cliché subdivision, where all of his friends lived. Shortly thereafter, he insisted I sell all of my old furniture, things I had bought secondhand and refurbished over the years. At the time, I was blinded by hope and love, so I didn’t think anything about it. But over time, I slowly realized I was no longer the person I used to be. I had turned into a trophy wife who lived in a show home and neither of us had any real character.

“Mom,” Hunter calls, bringing me out of my thoughts, and I turn to look at him and notice he has a stack of photos in his hand. “Who’s this?”

“That’s my mom,” I say softly, while walking over to where he’s sitting on the bed, holding out a picture of my mom and me. In the photo, we’re sitting outside on the porch, with our arms wrapped around each other, smiling at the camera.

“You look like her,” he says thoughtfully. “You have her eyes and hair.”

“You think so?” I ask, looking at my mom, who had to have been about my age when the photo was taken. She was beautiful, with long dark blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a smile that lit up the world.

“Yeah.” He nods then looks at me, and asks quietly, “Do you miss her?”

“Every day.” I nod, taking the photo from his hands. “She gave the best hugs,” I say, fighting back the tears I feel creeping up my throat. My mom and dad both died in a plane crash when I was fifteen. My father was the owner and pilot of a local adventure company, and he had taken my mom with him to drop off supplies to some men who were bear hunting out at one of the islands. On their way back into town, the weather shifted, and their plane went down on one of the mountains. Neither of them survived. That’s when I moved to Cordova to live with my dad’s parents.

“Do you have any pictures of your dad?”

I pause, trying to recall if I’ve ever really spoken to Hunter about my parents, if Max ever asked about them, but I can’t think of a single time. “There are a few downstairs on the wall. I’ll point them out to you.” I lean into him a little then stop when his arm wraps around my shoulders, surprising me. “I love you, kid,” I whisper, not surprised when he doesn’t say it back, but happy that his arm tightens ever so slightly.

“I’m starving.” He chuckles releasing me when his stomach growls loudly, breaking the moment.

“We can’t have that.” I laugh, standing from the bed. “Let’s go to Joe’s. Hopefully, the pizza is still awesome. If not, you’re gonna have to suffer and eat it anyway, ‘cause the store is probably closed by now.

“Is there such a thing as bad pizza?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I murmur, and then head out of the room and down the stairs, grabbing my purse as we leave.

When we make it to Joe’s, I find nothing has changed in the years I’ve been gone. The owner Joe, an older Korean gentleman, is still in the back making the pizzas, and his wife Kim is still working the counter, gossiping about everything and everyone. While we wait for our pizza, Kim talks my ear off, telling me about the people in town, including Zach, who she informs me is not only a cop, but also the sheriff. She also tells me that Zach is single. He and Tina supposedly got divorced nine years ago, and Zach has had full custody of both his kids since then. I tell myself I don’t care that Zach is no longer with Tina, but I still feel some relief knowing I won’t have to witness seeing them together.

“Can I sleep in my room tonight?” Hunter asks, as I finish off my third slice of pizza and wipe my mouth with a paper towel.

“I don’t mind, but everything in the house needs to be washed. So if you want to sleep up there, we have to get your stuff from the van.”

“I’ll get it, and then we can bring in everything else too.”

“You want to clean out the van?” I ask, not at all excited about lugging stuff up three flights of stairs.

“Yeah.” He nods again, taking his half of the pizza box lid that he used as a plate to the trash bin.

“If that’s what you want,” I agree, regretting those words an hour later as I head out for the last box. My arms and legs are tired from carting everything inside and up the stairs. I haven’t worked out in the last year, and I can feel it now as every muscle in my body protest.

Stopping when I hear a door close, I hold the box in my hands closer to my chest and look toward the house next door. I spot a handsome blond boy, who looks a lot like Zach, hopping down the steps, with Tina following close behind. Ducking down, I hide and watch them as they get into an old pickup truck, only coming out of hiding when they drive off.

Having over fifteen years to deal with the adoption of Samuel should make it easier to see Zach’s other children, but it doesn’t. I still feel bitter about the situation. I know it’s the fact that Zach’s children were born a little over a year after Samuel, meaning Tina got pregnant not long after I left town. So not only did Zach have a relationship with Tina, but he built a family with her and kept the kids they had together.

Heading back into the house with the final box, I wonder how I’m going to do what I’ve been doing for the last fifteen years. It was easy to block out thoughts of Zach when I was gone, but now that I’m back and living next door to him, I wonder if it will be as easy to ignore the feeling in my chest that coincides with thoughts of him.

 

~*~*~

Grabbing my quilt from the end the my bed, I carefully balance my Kindle and glass of wine in one hand as I open the sliding glass door in my room and step out onto the balcony. Tonight is one of the first nights it hasn’t rained since we moved in, and I have been looking forward to sitting outside under the stars with a good book all day long. Grabbing my glass, I take a sip then look to the left when the sound of rock music starts up and light flutters across the back deck next door, making me wonder if Zach’s room is off the balcony like mine.

Pushing that thought away, I turn on my Kindle then proceed to get lost in someone else’s happily ever after.

“Shelby.” Jumping, some of the contents from the glass in my hand sloshes out over the side and runs down my fingers as I swing my head to the left, where Zach is leaning on the banister, his eyes on me. A short glass full of dark liquid is in his hands, and the light casts a glow behind him.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I gripe, holding my free hand over my rapidly beating heart.

“I’ve been standing here awhile,” he mutters, then takes a swig of his drink. “I thought you would have noticed.” He rolls the glass between his hands while looking at me intently, making me fight the urge to squirm in my chair.

“When I’m lost in a good book, the world could crash down around me and I wouldn’t notice.” I shrug, taking a sip of wine, using the moment of reprieve as an excuse to look away from him, but realizing for the first time that I don’t know the man standing across from me. Yes, he looks a little like the guy I dated years ago, but he also seems more intense, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s definitely not the easygoing kid I dated in high school.

“How are you guys settling in?”

Pulling my legs out from under me, I rest my Kindle on the edge of my lap and turn to face him fully while adjusting the blanket.

“It’s going to take a little bit to get everything cleaned up. I didn’t know Gramps was such a hoarder until now. I think I’ve thrown out about ten thousand issues of National Geographic, along with a hundred empty boxes and every single item you can possibly buy from an infomercial,” I reply, then smile when he laughs a deep rumbling laugh and leans a little farther over the railing between us, causing another plaid shirt—this one blues and yellows—to tighten across his wide chest.

“You didn’t keep them? You never know when you might need an automatic potato peeler.”

“I thought about it, but if I did, I wouldn’t have anywhere to put my shoes, since all of it was stacked up on the floor in his closet, everything unopened.” I smile, watching him grin for a moment before the smile slides away and his eyes move beyond me to the forest that sits behind the house.

“I’m gonna miss him. I know he’s been gone from town for years, but I’ll miss our talks,” he mutters, then looks up at the sky for a moment before meeting my gaze once more. “Why’d you come back? Last time I talked to Pat, he told me you were planning on following him down to Florida.”

His words catch me off guard, since Gramps never told me he kept in contact with Zach. But then again, I never asked. I shouldn’t be surprised they kept in touch, since they we’re close when I was home, and were obviously neighbors before Gramps moved to Florida. Plus, Zach is the sheriff in town. Yet, it still feels strange that he knows about me, while I know nothing about him.

“I was.” I let out a breath, adjusting the blanket around my shoulders. “But I had to wait until…” I trail off, not wanting to talk about my divorce to anyone, especially not him. “Then when Gramps passed away, there was nothing for me in Florida, so I decided to come back here instead.”

“You didn’t want to stay in Seattle?”

“No, I needed something different, so when I found out Gramps left me his house, I just knew I needed to come back here,” I whisper the truth. Ever since I read the will and found out this house was mine to do with as I please, I had a feeling in my gut that I couldn’t get rid of. Something telling me that I needed to come back here.

“This is a good town,” he murmurs, but the look in his eyes is saying something I can’t quite figure out.

“This is the last place I remember being really happy. I hope that I can make it that way for Hunter,” I say quietly, and his face softens.

“He looks like you.” His words and tone catch me by surprise and I sit up a little taller. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be sitting on my granddad’s deck in the middle of the night talking to Zach about anything. Definitely not about my son.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw his dad,” I return honestly. “When he was a baby, he looked like me, but not any more.”

“He has your eyes and your smile.” He pauses, taking a drink from his glass. “He seems like a good kid.”

“He’s the best kid.” I take a sip of wine, trying to keep whatever it is I’m feeling right now in check.

“I… I think I saw your son. Um, the other day. He looks like you,” I tell him, wanting to take the words back after I say them, because I don’t want him to think I was spying on him.

“He looks like his mom, but has my personality, which I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not. My daughter, Aubrey, on the other hand, looks like me, but is sweet down to her core. Where she gets that sweetness, I have no fucking clue.”

“Oh.” I bite my lip, trying to figure out what to say to that. The Zach I knew was a good guy, sweet even. Tina, however, was mostly bitch, and I honestly don’t even know why we were friends. Then again, growing up here, there weren’t a hundred girls to choose from. My graduating class had five girls in it, and none of them liked Tina, which meant none of them really liked me either.

“I better go in,” he says abruptly, cutting into my thoughts, standing to his full height. “I need to be to the station early tomorrow.”

“Sure… uh… have a good night.” The urge to say something that will make him stay hits me hard, and it takes everything I have in me to keep my mouth shut.

“You too, Shelby. And be careful when you’re out here reading. Louie’s out and about around this time of night, searching for food.”

“Louie?” I question, scrunching up my nose. Cordova never had homeless people before, and I can’t imagine it would now.

“Louie’s a black bear. Normally, he sticks to the woods, but he’s been known to nap on the decks now and then.

“Oh, man.” I jump up, looking around for any sign of Louie, not sure how I could forget there are bears out here, since we are in Alaska. “What’s funny?” I frown, turning to face him when I hear his deep laughter.

“You’re in Alaska, babe. You lived here for years. You know there are bears out in those woods.” He nods to the trees.

Babe. Why, oh, why did that word make butterflies erupt in my stomach?

“I know that, but I forgot.” I shake my head and watch his face soften once again.

“Still sweet as pie,” I think I hear him say, but can’t be sure, because his voice dropped to a low rumble that I felt skid across my skin.

“Well, I’m gonna go in too,” I blurt, picking up my Kindle and wine glass. “Have a good night.” And with that, I duck my head and go back into my room. Closing the door I lock it behind me then hurry and get into bed where I try to forget once more about Zach Watters.  

~~**~~

    “Hello?” I answer the phone, still half asleep, then look at the clock and notice that even though it’s light out, it’s barely 6:00 a.m.

“Shelby, I’ve called three times,” Max, my ex-husband, says into my ear, and I pull my pillow over my head with thoughts of suffocating myself with it.

“It’s only six, Max. I haven’t gotten out of bed,” I grumble, tossing the covers back and sitting up. “What’s going on?”

“I want to fly out there this weekend,” he states, and I fight the urge to toss my phone across the room or scream at the top of my lungs.

“This weekend?” I verify, rubbing my face. “We haven’t even been here a week.”

“I have a few days off and would like to see Hunter.”  

I sigh, considering him and his request. “Our stuff is going to be delivered in two days. Then I start my new job next week, and Hunter has swi—”

“You’re not keeping my boy from me,” he cuts me off, and I can tell by his tone that he’s mad and likely pulling at his ever-present tie in annoyance. Something I make him do often.

“I’m not saying you can’t see him, Max,” I clarify, wishing I had at least one cup of coffee before this conversation. “I’m just explaining to you that we’re trying to get settled in here. Can you wait a few weeks before you come out?”

“Such fucking bullshit. I can’t believe you moved to Alaska, of all goddamn places. A boy should have his dad in his life.” My heart stutters and I feel my pulse skyrocket. We didn’t have a custody battle, but I wouldn’t put it past Max to take me to court to gain custody of Hunter if I step out of line in his eyes.

“Max,” I soften my voice as I walk to the kitchen, “you know we talked about this. You can come see him anytime, and in a couple years, he can fly out to see you whenever he has a break,” I say, then drop my voice even lower. “We agreed on him living with me at least until he’s sixteen. After that, he can choose who he wants to live with.”

“I miss you both.” He sighs, making me roll my eyes. I know he doesn’t miss me. I know this, because he’s been dating woman after woman since I asked for a separation. For all I know, he was dating before that. Hell, the last year I spent under the same roof as him, he hardly spared me a glance. Hunter later suffered from his lack of attention, when we lived in the same town after our separation. With Max, it’s always about him getting his way.  

“Max, please just wait a few more weeks, and then you can come and stay as long as you like,” I offer, the words leaving a horrid taste in my mouth. I will do whatever I have to in order to keep my son, though, including putting up with his dad in my childhood home for more than a few days.

“Fine, when?”

Closing my eyes, I whisper, “Next month. Whenever you like. Just let me know, so I can make sure I don’t make plans for Hunter. I know there are a few camps here he’s interested in.”

“Fine. Where is he now? I called his cell phone, but he didn’t pick up.”

“Sleeping. Like I said, it’s only six here, and he was up late talking to his friends back in Seattle on Skype.”

“You really shouldn’t let him stay up so late, Shelby,” he scolds, sounding disapproving, and again, that’s not a surprise.

“It’s summer, Max, and his ‘late’ is ten, not three in the morning,” I mutter, wondering how the hell I put up with him for so many years. “I’ll have him call you when he gets up.”

“Don’t tell him I’m coming out. I want to tell him that myself.”

“Will do,” I grumble, looking at the coffee pot and begging it to hurry up.

“Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later,” I agree, setting the phone down on the counter. I make myself a cup of coffee and take it out to the back deck, drinking it while the morning sun beats down on me.

wide open spaces cover

New from Aurora Rose Reynolds!

 

Wide Open Spaces releases August 2016!

 

Add to your TBR at: http://bit.ly/1PDVZsf

 

Blurb

That moment your life changes.

That moment that changes your life.

That moment you love someone more than you love yourself.

That was the moment we gave our son up for adoption and the moment I was left bare. A wide-open space that would forever be empty.

There are moments that define you as a person, moments that prove just how strong you are, moments you push yourself to keep going forward when all you really want to do is give up. It was in one of those moments when I reached out and found him waiting for me.

 

When Shelby Calder left home fifteen years ago, she never planned on returning to the Alaskan town she left behind. But after the death of her grandfather and a bitter divorce, she hopes going home will be a fresh start for her and her ten-year-old son.

 

Zach Watters has made a lot of mistakes in his life. But when he sees Shelby Calder, looking more beautiful than ever, standing outside her childhood home, he promises himself that letting her go won’t be a mistake he ever makes again.

 

Some things never change and love is one of them.

wide open spaces banner.jpg

About the Author:

 

Aurora Rose Reynolds is a navy brat who’s husband served in the United States Navy. She has lived all over the country but now resides in New York City with her Husband and pet fish. She’s married to an alpha male that loves her as much as the men in her books love their women. He gives her over the top inspiration everyday. In her free time she reads, writes and enjoys going to the movies with her husband and cookie. She also enjoys taking mini weekend vacations to nowhere, or spends time at home with friends and family. Last but not least she appreciates everyday and admires it’s beauty.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest

 

FREE BOOK BLITZ – In All My Wishes by Ciara Knight

Title: In All My Wishes: A Riverbend Novel

Author: Ciara Knight
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR
Blurb:
At the age of fifteen, Anna Baker was ripped from her childhood home, and her one true love, vowing to return the minute she graduated high school.

Professor Liam Harrow once believed his childhood sweetheart would return home to him, but during college he faced reality and hardened his heart to love.
When Historical Hall faces demolition, both Anna and Liam search for options to save their childhood memories, but when secrets unravel and the truth of Anna’s childhood departure is revealed, it could corrupt their memories, risk their present, and destroy their future.
Ciara Knight writes with a ‘Little Edge and a Lot of Heart’ with her contemporary and paranormal romance books. Her most recent #1 Amazon bestselling series, Sweetwater County, has topped the charts and received acclaimed reviews. Her international best-seller, Pendulum scored 4 stars from RT Book Reviews, accolades from InD’Tale Magazine and Night Owl Top Pick. Her young adult paranormal series, Battle for Souls, received 5 stars from Paranormal Romance Guild and Night Owl’s Top Pick, among other praises.
Author Links:
Buy Links: Amazon: http://amzn.to/1mKRYKl
He hugged her to him, holding her arms at her side so she couldn’t hit him. “It’s not too late. You’re not that old, you know.”
She squirmed, but he held tight. “And you’re getting too old to be the playboy of Riverbend. I think it’s time for you to retire that title to a new graduate.”
A shooting star bolted across the sky. “Quick! Make a wish.”
Anna slid an arm free and held his cheek, facing him. “I don’t have to.”
He dared to move closer, to hope she’d return his affection. His heart pounded with adrenaline and his breath quickened. No woman ever turned him around or flipped him upside down like she did. “Anna.”
“Shh.” She gently pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. A shiver of excitement vibrated from the top of his head to his toes. He held onto her for dear life, hoping she’d never pull away, never leave him again.
“Anna, promise you’ll stay,” he whispered.
A long silence rent the air with indecision. He released her and she slid away, only a few inches, but there might as well have been a valley of broken dreams and wishes between them.


Chapter Reveal – Possess by Kaye Blue

 

possess - chapter reveal.jpg

Expected Publication April 27, 2016

Pre-order links

Amazon US  Amazon UK  Amazon CA  Nook  Kobo IBooks

goodreads-badge.png

AP new - synopsis.jpg

No weakness.

Maxim has stayed alive—and on top—for twenty years through a ruthless combination of brains and brutality. He’s grown the Syndicate into one of the world’s most powerful criminal enterprises.

He cares for no one.

Except her.

The woman he never should have saved…the one who holds the remnants of his long-dead heart.

No limits.

Senna doesn’t know why Maxim spared her all those years ago, or why he’s kept her by his side. But she does know that nothing—not his beautiful cruelty, not the black void where his heart should be—can stop her from loving him. Wanting him.

Even though she shouldn’t.

No turning back.

Years of obsession sharpen to a knife’s edge when Senna begins to crave her freedom. And when an old rival discovers her existence, Maxim must fight to keep her alive, even as he battles his need to possess her completely…no matter the cost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

PossessCover-750.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

AP new - excerpt.jpg

Prologue

Ten Years Ago…

He stepped over the first body, careful to avoid the blood that pooled around it.

It was best not to make a mess, but as he looked around the room, his disgust rising with every passing second, he was reminded that the man who had come here before him not only had no concerns about making a mess, he reveled in doing so.

He looked around the room again, his face muscles twisting with his displeasure at what he saw. A small, tidy family room, pictures on the wall, a TV in one corner. The TV still played, but the screen was dimmed by the splattered blood that covered it.

He moved deeper into the house and maneuvered around the woman who lay in the middle of the floor.

He didn’t have to look closely to know that she, like the man at the door, was dead, so after a brief glimpse at her stiff, glassy-eyed face, he turned his attention to the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Get out here, you little bitch!”

He face muscles twisting even more, he focused on the man who had bellowed those words in a voice that vibrated with rage, menace, and more than a hint of excitement.

Santo Carmelli had centered himself in the narrow hallway, blocking any chance of exit. He was also frothing at the mouth, his entire body seeming to expand with rage—and anticipation—with each breath he took.

No different than usual, except now that Santo had had a taste of the violence he seemed to feed on, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d had his fill. And when Santo was like this, the two he’d already killed wouldn’t be nearly enough.

“No more, Santo. Let’s go,” Maxim said, keeping his voice calm, disinterested, and not letting his irritation come through, difficult as it was to hide it.

If Santo heard, he gave no indication, too far gone in the bloodlust that made him so valued by his superiors and such a pain in Maxim’s ass.

Santo let out an animalistic growl and began stomping down the hallway, uncaring of the gore that coated his shoes and hands.

Maxim didn’t follow immediately, and instead debated whether he should just end this now.

Santo, never a reasonable man, had gotten worse. Much worse. And it always fell on Maxim to clean up his messes, a task Maxim had more than tired of, a task made that much worse by Santo’s sloppiness and his inability to think when he was like this.

Maxim lifted his hand to the small but lethally sharp knife he kept in his waistband.

Finally being rid of Santo would be a relief, and would allow him to focus on more pressing issues. Santo was so distracted it would be easy to get close. Two quick slashes, and one of Maxim’s biggest annoyances and biggest potential rivals would be eliminated.

A tempting prospect, but one Maxim disregarded.

He was close, and all the pieces he needed for his takeover were in place. In a few weeks, the Syndicate would be his.

Then he’d deal with the Santo problem.

Until then…

“Santo,” he said, still calm, tone not betraying how close he’d been to ending Santo’s life.

His voice must have penetrated Santo’s blind rage, for he turned and looked at Maxim.

“Fuck off, Maxim. I’m busy,” he yelled.

“I can see that,” Maxim replied. “Busy and too fucking crazy to do this right. Go now, Santo.”

He shook his head. “No fucking way. She’s back there somewhere trying to hide from me.” As Santo spoke, he glared down the hallway, yelling even louder. Then, he looked back at Maxim, eyes wild with uncontrolled rage. “You think I’m letting this go? That bitch scratched me!” he said, gesturing at the gouges that marked his arms.

Good for her.

Santo probably hadn’t even felt it, but it was good that she’d fought back. Doing so had only pissed Santo off more, and only made Maxim’s already hard job harder, but Maxim didn’t care. A few scratches were nothing, but Maxim would welcome any victory against Santo, no matter how small and symbolic or how much it inconvenienced him.

“I’ll take care of it, Santo,” Maxim said, holding the other man’s gaze.

They were equals in the Syndicate, at least in name, and Maxim had no real authority to give orders, at least not yet. But while Maxim had no official authority over Santo, he had clout, influence, and support that Santo, despite how valued he was by certain members of leadership, did not. And even when he was like this, caught up in his rage and little else, Santo knew that.

Santo’s breath began to smooth out, some of the minuscule reason he had clearing the rage in his eyes.

He finally nodded. “You’re better at this than me anyway. Make it hurt,” he said as he brushed past Maxim and down the hall.

Maxim couldn’t really argue with Santo’s words. He was better, but he wasn’t a mad dog like Santo and he didn’t relish the idea of making someone suffer without good cause, wouldn’t do so simply because Santo had demanded it.

Once Santo was out of the house, Maxim began moving, only barely listening as the others who had entered began to clean the living room, instead focused on the hallway.

Three doors, all partially ajar, darkness spilling out from them.

Two bedrooms and a bathroom, Maxim assumed based on the layout common for houses in this area. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in a place like this, hunting for a person who’d had the misfortune of crossing the Syndicate’s, or Santo’s, path.

A shame, but a part of the job.

Maxim looked down the hall and quickly dismissed the door at the far end. If Maxim was right, and he’d been in this scenario far too many times to be anything else, the person Santo was chasing had planned to slip out behind him as he thrashed through the other rooms. So going to the far door wouldn’t give them the opportunity to get past him.

Which left the second bedroom or bathroom.

Both had merits.

The bedroom offered more places to hide, like the closets people were so fond of. But the bathroom had its own benefits. A window that might serve as an alternate escape, and all kinds of chemicals and cleaners that could do some damage if it came to that.

The scratches on Santo’s arms, the fact that she had gotten away, proved Santo’s prey was a fighter, so Maxim turned into the bathroom and pulled the floral shower curtain aside.

The girl was younger than him, twenty, maybe, and as he’d suspected, clutching a spray bottle of bleach so tightly that her brown fingers were turning white at the knuckles.

Her grip was so tight that it took a moment for her to react, but she did, loosening her hold and then squeezing the nozzle on the spray bottle. Her movements were jerky, panicked, and her aim was off, so the spray flew over Maxim’s shoulder and landed harmlessly behind him.

He glared at her, and her eyes widened but the rest of her body went stiff as she froze in place, staring back at him. Maxim watched her for a moment, two, saw as she debated whether to try to spray him again, saw her fingers twitch around the nozzle as she weighed the consequences of action or inaction.

Saw when she tightened her grip on the bottle.

She met his eyes, and Maxim stared back at her, curious as to what she would do. It felt like the longest time, but in reality it was only seconds. Long enough for Maxim to see that his perception of her as a fighter was true, and long enough for him to tire of their little standoff.

He pried the bottle from her hand and dropped it to the floor, staring at her, considering.

Her eyes were glassy and wet with unshed tears, but tears had long since lost the power to sway him. Maxim couldn’t say for sure if they ever actually had.

He watched her for a moment longer, unmoving. Everything he knew said he should have reached for his knife.

He didn’t.

Instead he grabbed the hand that had been holding the bleach and pulled her out of the shower.

She stared up at him, blinking rapidly, and Maxim could see the beat of her pulse at the base of her throat.

“Are you going to k-kill me?” she asked in a low whisper.

No witnesses. No loose ends. She was both.

The answer was easy.

Yes.

Maxim looked at her eyes again and then shook his head.

“No.”

AP new -about the author.jpg

Kaye writes hot, gritty, suspenseful romance featuring alpha males and the women who love them.

Author Links

Goodreads Website  Facebook  Amazon Author Page Twitter  Newsletter  

ArdentProse_LogoMain.jpg