Stolen by Jayce Carter

General Release Date: 7th February 2023

Word Count: 44,084
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 171

GENRES:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL
REVERSE HAREM

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Book Description

Larkwood is dangerous, but love scares me even more.

As a selkie, nothing matters more to me than my freedom. Larkwood destroyed that when they took my skin, and with it, my ability to transform. I’ve spent the six years since incomplete, but now that the rumors say Larkwood has changed, it’s my chance to finally get back what they stole.

I need to keep my head down and focus, but from the moment I step foot back in Larkwood, I can’t catch a break. The other shades hate me, the people in charge pity me and the two men I’ve tried to forget won’t leave me alone. Asher, a quiet and intense amarok, and Talon, a mischievous and playful kitsune, seem to think I’ve come back looking for romance.

As we all venture into the most dangerous place in Larkwood to find what was stolen from me, I realize that there is no bigger threat to me and my freedom than the two men I’m falling for. If I don’t keep my wits about me, I might just find myself trapped once again.

Excerpt

Six years since I’d escaped Larkwood’s clutches, since I’d somehow survived a place determined to destroy me, and it hadn’t changed a bit. It had the same imposing walls, the same layout, the same empty desert that stretched out for miles around it. Sure, the news swore the place was different, but I was way too smart to believe that.

Still, I never thought I’d come back here.

At least not willingly.

Even standing in the intake room, the same one they’d used in the past, didn’t help me differentiate between the past and the present.

“Mara?” The familiar voice made me turn and look up into a face that shouldn’t have surprised me. Kit Porter had taught when I’d lived at Larkwood years ago, and he’d been the only shade given such a position. However, since he worked in level 1 and I was officially a level 4, I didn’t think I was important enough for him to take notice of me.

“I’m surprised you remember me,” I said.

“I have an exceedingly good memory.” He bypassed the unasked question of why he knew me, but that was hardly unusual for him. Kit had always kept things close to his chest from what I’d seen. “Besides, seeing you jogs old memories. Not many shades have returned here.”

“I can’t be the only resident with nowhere else to go.”

“Student.” At my look, he clarified, “Larkwood has changed. We have no residents or guards. Those who choose to come here do so of their own free will. They are students.”

I snorted at the explanation, especially from Kit. We’d all known that he was little more than a pet for the Warden, a shade willing to do her dirty work for his own benefit. The fact he remained increased my suspicion about this place.

He lifted one of his dark eyebrows, but before he could say anything else, a woman walked up who I’d seen on the news enough to identify.

Hera Weston. The previous darling of the influential Weston family and now the Director at Larkwood Academy. The scar at her throat had been difficult to see on the TV, but in person it stood out. Her hands moved in a quick, practiced flurry, but I had no idea what it meant.

Kit spoke to her when she paused. “This is Mara Holland. She was here…” He paused, the flat blackness of his eyes making his expression difficult to read. “Six years ago, I believe.”

Hera moved her gaze to me, then signed again.

Kit translated. “This is Hera Weston, the Director. She’s welcoming you here.”

I nodded at the woman, unsure how else to respond. She looked to be around my age, yet where I wore a large hoodie and leggings, like the normal nineteen-year-old trying and failing to figure my shit out. Hera wore a fitted suit that proved we were not at all the same.

She reminded me of the sort of person I’d look for when I realized I needed an adult who was doing a better job adulting than I was.

She was also a person with absolute power. The Warden had looked similarly put together when I’d arrived at Larkwood, so I knew better than to trust anyone in power.

Hera signed again, then waited for Kit to translate. “She wants to know why you’ve come back.”

“I thought all shades were welcome here?” I wrapped my fingers around the strap of my backpack, which had what little I owned crammed inside.

“They are,” Kit offered, his words slow as if unsure how to keep going. “We’ve set Larkwood up as a refuge for those who need it. I just haven’t seen many return here. Usually, when people get out of the place it used to be, they have no desire to return.”

“Yeah, well, it turns out that life outside of here isn’t that great, either. So do I have a room or not?”

Kit pressed his lips together but nodded. He gestured toward a table farther in. “Deacon is handing out room assignments and will pass you off for orientation.”

That made me turn my head to catch sight of the man Kit had mentioned who, again, looked just the same as I recalled. I swallowed down my unease at the fact they’d kept a guard on staff, mostly because I didn’t want to have any more discussion than I had to.

I needed to stay quiet, to do what I’d come to do, then get the hell out of Larkwood again. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to myself.

So I nodded and followed Kit’s directions. Deacon lifted his purple eyes to me but showed no sign of recognition.

Then again, six years was a long time, and it wasn’t as if I’d been a troublemaker. He’d had no reason to notice me.

I knew exactly what I looked like—any teenager not worth a second glance. I kept my dark curly hair cut short and always wore dark leggings and baggy hoodie sweaters. My eyes were dark, and the only truly notable or memorable thing about my appearance was the freckles on my face that stood out on my dark skin.

“Name?”

“Mara Holland.” I kept my voice strong but non-confrontational. Don’t be memorable but don’t be weak, either. The rules of Larkwood were shockingly similar to those in prison.

He furrowed his brows, tapping his finger across the tablet in his hand. “You were here before, right?”

“You don’t recognize our little selkie?” That voice was one I sure as hell wouldn’t forget. Wade walked up, the void older but with the same old smirk. “We only had one in the years I’ve been here.”

“Aren’t selkies level 4s? Why would you know her?”

“She wasn’t housed in level 4.”

Deacon turned his gaze to me, his eyes full of suspicion. His lifted eyebrow asked the question so he didn’t have to.

“They wanted to do experiments and since the North Tower is connected to level 1, they thought it was easier to keep me here—not so far to transport me.” Even as I spoke, I kept my voice flat. If I didn’t, if I went back to the memories of the North Tower, of the hell they’d put me through, I’d let Deacon and Wade see far too much.

“I see,” Deacon said, his tone giving nothing away about how he felt. “Your room’s in level 1. We don’t have that many people, and because they made level 1 to house shades long-term, it’s got the best set-up. We’ve been putting everyone in level 1 while we work on getting the other levels renovated.”

“By which he means that level 1 has kitchens, full bathrooms, and it’s directly connected to the other areas,” Wade explained, as if Deacon needed a translator just as Hera had.

Instead of asking more, I held my wrist out.

Deacon went still, a frown touching his features.

Wade shook his head, then gently set his gloved hand on my wrist. “We don’t do wrist bands anymore.”

Oh… I guess that made sense. I ignored the warmth on my cheeks as Deacon pulled a card from a stack on the table he leaned against, then swiped it through a reader on his tablet. A few beeps rang out before he held the card out. “This will get you into your room— one-three-four-five.”

“Will it get me into the pantry and rec areas?”

Deacon shook his head. “We don’t keep the same security measures they had back then. The only off-limit areas are dangerous or security-centric. Otherwise, none of the areas require special access.”

“The North Tower?” I asked, unable to help the slight quiver in my voice at mentioning that place. It felt like talking about it might call its attention to me.

Deacon didn’t answer, with Wade taking that one. “The North Tower’s locked. There’s way too much stuff in there that we don’t understand yet. Plus, we don’t want people breaking in just to steal things. A lot of what’s there could seriously hurt shades if it got into the wrong hands. Don’t worry, though no one’s working there.”

Which means this is going to be more complicated than I wanted…

“Come on, I’ll show you where to go,” Wade said, gesturing toward the door at the back of the intake room.

“I’m good,” I assured him, tucking the keycard into the side pocket of my leggings. Even after six years away, this place haunted my dreams. I couldn’t possibly forget a single hallway of this prison, of the place that had tried to destroy me…the place that had taken what mattered most from me.

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About the Author

Jayce Carter

Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing. You can learn more about her at her website.

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Romancing The President by Imari Jade

General Release Date: 7th February 2023

Word Count: 30,881
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 132

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
MULTICULTURAL
VALENTINES

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Book Description

Student Council President River West gets swept away when he looks into the gray eyes of Kylian Abadie, a French cooking major.

The Valentine’s Day Festival is a big deal for the entire male population of Cupid Academy, a prestigious university in Hokkaido, Japan. Every year one of the school’s clubs must choose a mascot to represent them. This year the kendo club choose Kylian Abadie. Kylian, not a willing participant, accidentally falls on top of River after a mob of young men chase him through the hallowed halls of the university. It’s like Cupid’s arrow strikes both of them. Since then, River has been questioning his sexuality. He’s never been attracted to guys before, but there’s always a first time for everything.

The last thing Kylian Abadie wants is to be the mascot for a school filled with testosterone-loaded jocks. He can’t help that he is the shortest guy in the school and looks slightly like the chubby-cheeked angel from classical mythology. It’s bad enough that his group has been assigned to making and selling chocolate candy. He turns to the student council president for help and discovers that the prince of the school has a secret that he’s been hiding for the last four years from the rest of his adoring fans.

Reader advisory: This book contains one scene of light BDSM and mentions of homophobia.

Excerpt

River West looked up just in time to see what appeared to be the entire kendo team chasing a culinary school student down the hallowed halls of Cupid Academy. River recognized the black and white uniform that the cooking students wore.

“Save me. They’re trying to eat me,” the cutest little French-accented voice shouted.

Eat him? River supposed nothing was impossible when it came to students of this school. He’d been there nearly four years, and he’d seen a lot of stuff. Some of the guys chasing him were huge and didn’t look like they’d ever missed a meal. Before he could react, River was caught up in the melee, knocked down and entangled in a pile of arms and legs, like he’d been tackled by the football team. He was trapped in a most peculiar way, under a guy with the rarest gray eyes staring down at him. He had chubby cheeks, stained pink from embarrassment, and full pink lips. On his head was a mass of raven curls that River’s fingers begged to play with. His cock reacted as he gazed into the face of an angel. The little cook twitched nervously as his body responded in kind. River was flattered. Where has the cooking school been hiding this one? As student council president, he thought he knew everyone. And the guy smelled amazing, like brown sugar and cinnamon. No wonder the kendo team was trying to eat him.

The other students began moving away one by one until it was just River and this guy. He wasn’t very tall compared to River and the others, and he didn’t have much weight to him like most chefs River knew. He lifted himself off River and tried to hide his erection with his hands. Too late… River had already felt it.

Vincent Lambert, the student council vice-president whom River had been speaking with right before the ruckus happened, held out his hand and helped River up. The other guy moved behind River and used him as a shield.

River dusted off his clothing and straightened out his uniform jacket so it could hide his shame. It was hard to do with the little guy right behind him.

The dean eventually made his way over to them. “What is this all about? Why are you chasing Kylian?”

Kylian? What an unusual name.

One of the culprits spoke up. It was Kato Tanaka, the captain of the kendo team. “We need him.”

“Why?” the dean asked.

River was curious about that, too.

“Because it’s our year to choose the Valentine’s Day mascot, and we choose him.”

Hands gripped the back of River’s uniform coat.

Valentine’s Day was a big deal for their academy, even bigger than Christmas, which most Japanese did not celebrate. In Japan, the females went out of their way to give chocolates to the guys they admired, not the other way around like it was done in America.

“You want Kylian as the school mascot?” the dean asked. “What kind of mascot?”

“Cupid,” someone shouted.

The dean chuckled. “He does look like him.”

“I do not,” Kylian said, peeking from behind River. He finally loosened his death-like grip on River and faced the mob.

“My word, he does look like Cupid,” Vincent said as he checked Kylian out. “All he needs is a diaper and a bow and arrow.”

River quickly moved Kylian from his right side to his left before his man-eating best friend got a notion in his head to seduce Kylian.

“Never going to happen,” Kylian said, just as the strongest guy on the kendo team picked him up like he was a sack of flour and carried him off. The others turned and followed, leaving Vincent, River and the dean.

“This is going to be hilarious,” the dean said, walking away from them. Apparently, he was okay with one of his students being eaten by the kendo team.

“Why does it look like you’ve been struck by lightning?” Vincent asked as they headed for the student council chambers. The final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day.

River chuckled weakly. Struck by Cupid’s arrow is more like it. They entered the room. The other members would be arriving shortly. On the agenda today, the upcoming Saint Valentine’s Day Festival.

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About the Author

Imari Jade

Imari Jade was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. She is the mother of three grown sons and six grandchildren. Imari has been writing over twenty years. When the kids were younger she wrote and sold humorous articles on child-rearing and later turned to penning short stories, particularly horror. Then one day she decided to try romance. Her first erotic novel ‘A Christmas to Remember’ was published by Star Dust Press and Imari never looked back. Currently Imari writes for several publishers including Midnight Showcase Fiction, Sugar and Spice Press, Eternal Press and Carnal Desires Publishing and has just signed on with Moongypsy Press. She is also looking forward to a good writing relationship with Total-E-bound and getting to know the readers and fans.

Imari is an avid romance reader. Her favourite genre is paranormal romance and she has a thing for vampires and werewolves. She is a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanatic and was totally depressed when the series ended. When she’s not reading or writing Imari spends her time watching Japanese anime. The romantic ones are her favourite and she’s also has a pretty extensive collection she hopes to pass down to her grandchildren.

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Truly, Madly, Deeply by Jambrea Jo Jones

General Release Date: 7th February 2023

Word Count: 30,335
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 120

GENRES:

CONTEMPORARY
ENEMIES TO LOVERS
EROTIC ROMANCE
VALENTINES

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Book Description

Can two college students stop fighting long enough to find love?

Christina ‘Chrissy’ Young hates Sinclair Brown. He always tries to outshine her. She wants to be the best, and she will be, even if she has to walk over him to reach her goal.

Sinclair is oblivious to the fact that Chrissy hates him. He has his head down and is just trying to get through college and maybe have a little fun along the way before life takes over.

What happens when the two are forced to spend time together? Can they work side by side to find love?

Excerpt

“I hate him!” Christina Young slammed her way into the apartment and threw her bag onto the small table by the door, almost knocking it over with the force she used to rid herself of her backpack.

Her roommate, Holly, popped her head around the kitchen wall. “Who?”

“Sinclair Brown,” Chrissy said with a huff.

“Of course. What did he do now?” Holly wiped her hands on her jeans then came around the corner to join Chrissy in the living room.

Chrissy dropped down onto the couch, resting her head on the back of it and closing her eyes. Her anger left, and she was tired…so tired.

“He thinks he’s so smart.” Crissy crossed her arms. Now she was whining, and she hated herself for it. He always did this to her—put her on edge. He was such a showoff. And he was smart, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t. They’d been butting heads since freshman year.

“Ah, so he showed you up on a project, did he?”

“No. Not this time, but the professor is making me work with him, and if he thinks he is going to take point on this project, he has another ‘think’ coming.”

“So…I should stock up on popcorn?”

Chrissy picked a pillow up off the couch to cover her face so she could scream into the silky material. Once finished, she calmly put the pillow back where she’d found it.

“It’s for marketing. We have to create a digital and a print ad. We need to come up with the product before the next class. I will not let him pressure me into doing some slick car ad or anything like that. I want our product to be meaningful—something that can help people.”

“Do you have any idea that he would want to do something slick? You probably haven’t even spoken to him about it.” Holly sat down on the couch next to Chrissy.

“Well…no. But that is not the point.” Chrissy put her arms back across her chest.

“Come on. You’re usually not this irrational. He can’t be that bad. It’s a project and will be over with soon enough. Just worry about the grade. Compromise.”

“I am not going to be the only one to compromise. He’d better know the meaning of ‘group’ and not try to go all solo on me. I’ve worked hard in this class, and I don’t want this project to bring me down.” If she had been standing, Chrissy would have stomped her foot.

She was acting irrational and she knew it. There was just something about Sinclair that rubbed her the wrong way. He was always one step ahead of her, and she didn’t like it. She also didn’t like how childish she was being when it came to him. She was twenty years old, not in high school. Chrissy should be above the pettiness she felt anytime she thought about Sinclair.

“Have you ever sat down and actually had a conversation with the guy?” Holly put her arm around Chrissy’s shoulder.

“Whose side are you on? I thought you were my friend. You should be encouraging me.” Chrissy snuggled into her friend, liking the comfort Holly offered.

“I am always on your side. I have been since high school when you defended me against the mean girls. I have your back. I just think you might have Sinclair wrong. I could be talking out of my ass here because I haven’t met him, but you should hear me out. Maybe you could take this opportunity to get to know him more and work things out. It can only help your assignment.”

Chrissy sighed. She didn’t want to adult, and Holly shouldn’t be trying to make her.

“We are meeting up for dinner. Can I invite him over here? Do we have food I can make?”

“I just put some chicken into the air fryer and mac and cheese in the oven. We should have enough for all of us. I’ll eat in my room so you guys can talk and figure out what you’re going to do your project on.” Holly squeezed Chrissy before getting off the couch.

“You’re a lifesaver. I really didn’t want to go to his place or a restaurant. I figured this would be neutral.”

“How is this place neutral when you live here?” Holly laughed and turned back to the kitchen.

Whatever.

Chrissy needed to get her bag. She’d left her phone in there and hopefully she hadn’t broken it with the rough treatment of throwing it down. Before she’d left class, she’d exchanged numbers with Sinclair so they could coordinate. This week they had to come up with a company to do their advertisement on. They had two weeks to do the print ad, then another week to work on something digital. Four weeks total was all they had, and this assignment was forty percent of their grade.

Her phone was fine, and there were no text messages or missed calls. Good. Chrissy would reach out first and offer the apartment for them to work in.

Sinclair, this is Chrissy. Dinner, my place?

Great. The frat house isn’t the best for good food. Deets?

Chrissy gave him her address. He was going to be at her place in about an hour. She took her bag off the table so she could put it in her room. She wanted to get the supplies she would need and set them up on the table. Chrissy was grateful that she could live off campus with one roommate in a two-bedroom house. Not many kids her age could afford it. Her dad owned some rental properties and gave her and Holly a good deal. The caveat was that her grades had to stay in good standing. She still paid rent and had a part-time job, the same as Holly. She just had it a little bit easier than her fellow classmates.

Having a peaceful environment helped her with her grades. It was nice to have a place she could relax and not worry about a bunch of other people in her business.

After she’d grabbed her notebook, pen and laptop, she went into the kitchen to see if there was anything she could do to help her roommate.

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About the Author

Jambrea Jo Jones

Jambrea wanted to be the youngest romance author published, but life impeded the dreams. She put her writing aside and went to college briefly, then enlisted in the Air Force. After serving in the military, she returned home to Indiana to start her family. A few years later, she discovered yahoo groups and book reviews. There was no turning back. She was bit by the writing bug.

She enjoys spending time with her son when not writing and loves to receive reader feedback. She’s addicted to the internet so feel free to email her anytime.

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Love Like Salt by Noja Lina

General Release Date: 7th February 2023

Word Count: 47,774
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 180

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
ENEMIES TO LOVERS
EROTIC ROMANCE
GAY
GLBTQI
VALENTINES

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Book Description

Love doesn’t always have to be sweet or feature something grand. Like salt in food, it’s the small, often-overlooked things that actually enhance the experience.

Theo wants to join the workforce. He participates in marketing competitions to gather enough confidence to do that, but loses against Zack, a freshman in the Management Department. They both hold a grudge and glare at each other on campus, especially when Zack takes the last serving of Theo’s favorite meatballs at the canteen.

However, due to the budding romance between Theo’s classmate Maya and Zack’s roommate Will, all four of them team up for the next marketing competition, brieFEST. As if creating a Valentine’s Day campaign proposal for table salt wasn’t challenging enough, Theo also has to deal with Zack’s annoying tongue clicking, various tensions between teammates, his own competence-related insecurities, and—worst of all—an unwelcomed, growing attraction toward Zack.

Meanwhile, the team still has to finish a project that stands a chance of getting first place at brieFEST. How will they do that within a month with so many things going on for all four of them?

The only solution is throwing spaghetti at the wall—and hoping something sticks.

Reader advisory: This book has a scene of public sex.

Excerpt

Theo waited in line at the student canteen to get a decent, cheap dinner. While sliding his tray over the metal bars at the edge of the serving counter, he scanned the food containers behind the glass windows to check what options were available to him.

As always at that time of day, an hour before the canteen closed at seven p.m., not much was left, aside from a few crowd-pleasers such as mashed potatoes, sausages, and meatballs, along with a couple of bowls of soup.

Out of all those, meatballs were his favorites. He eyed the only remaining helping, hoping that none of the four people ahead of him in line would take it.

Unfortunately, the lady handling serving put the last five meatballs on a plate and handed it over the counter. If that weren’t bad enough, the person who’d taken them was none other than Zack Zel—a freshman whom Theo had had a grudge against ever since they’d first met at a marketing contest called CompetitiON two months before.

The Faculty of Economics and Business Administration in the European city of Thornburg, where Theo was a second year in the Marketing Department, provided many types of opportunities for students to gain practical experience and meet industry professionals. Among those were the two annual marketing competitions—CompetitiON, held in November, and brieFEST, held in February.

Both involved teams of students competing against each other to solve a given marketing challenge and win prizes consisting of money, free products or services, internships or work opportunities—or a combination of those.

The difference was that at CompetitiON, representatives of various businesses gave a challenge related to their brand, while at brieFEST there were members of marketing agencies giving out the briefs. A brief was a document containing information about a brand or business and its target audience, along with the desired objectives and guidelines for the campaign to be thought up and proposed by those receiving the brief. Since agencies were making the briefs for the second competition, the challenges in brieFEST were always more unpredictable than in CompetitiON.

During his freshman year, Theo had participated in CompetitiON along with Maya Hall and Derek Smith, the two classmates he’d team up with for any group project, and they’d won first place at the rebranding pitch for a certain bank. They’d also participated in last year’s brieFEST event, where they’d won a special prize in the pitch for expanding the visibility of an indie film festival.

Theo had also won scholarship money and a place in the student dorm due to great academic results, as well as popularity because of his casual networking with many students in other departments.

Freshman year had been full of wins for Theo, so he’d been feeling really good about himself and about his team’s chances of winning when they’d gotten to the pitching phase at the latest CompetitiON event, where they had to present an employee-retention campaign for a large audit company.

While waiting outside the room where the teams presented their campaign proposals to representatives from the company, Theo had noticed an unfamiliar guy sitting alone in a corner, scrolling through his phone without even taking a look around. CompetitiON didn’t have a minimum number of members per team, so it wasn’t against the rules for someone to participate by themselves. Still…it was uncommon.

Theo had assumed the guy was a freshman, and since the university year had started barely more than a month prior, he must not have gotten to know any of the other students well enough yet to form a team. Then he remembered how nervous he’d been the first time he’d participated in CompetitiON and how encouraging it had been having people around him, offering information, friendly words and support.

Theo had walked up to the guy, sat down beside him and started a conversation, discovering he’d been right. The guy, whose name was Zack Zel, was a freshman in the Management Department. He was participating by himself, and he was also about to present an employee-retention campaign for the audit company.

Most of the other teams there were presenting other types of campaign proposals for other companies. Thus, Theo hadn’t expected he’d put himself in the situation of reassuring his direct competition, especially when he felt so sure that their team had the contest in the bag. Still, he’d approached Zack to offer encouragement, so he told him that the juries in these cases were often friendly, that participants usually didn’t experience any scrutiny while presenting and that everyone had equal chances of winning.

At the end of their conversation, Theo had wished him good luck while they exchanged a firm handshake. Zack did the same, smiling widely. Theo briefly registered that Zack was really attractive with his dark hair and eyes, the five piercings on his left earlobe and even with the acne scars over his clean-shaven face. Also, with the wide smile, he looked cute and somewhat childlike.

Despite presenting at a pitch, Zack had come dressed in ripped jeans and a hoodie. As someone who always put effort into his appearance, topping it off with business-casual clothing and styled hair, Theo was drawn to people confident enough to leave their rooms with the first things they’d found in their wardrobes, such as Maya and now, Zack.

Theo had returned to his teammates to get ready because they were up next. Everything had gone well during their presentation and the jury had seemed impressed.

However, at the awards ceremony, Theo’s jaw had dropped from the shock of hearing that his team had placed second, and the winner was Zack. He’d barely stifled his dramatic reaction, and he needed all his willpower to smile for the pictures. But, when he talked to his teammates, he’d released all the bitterness, saying that the competition had been rigged and that they should ask to see the winning proposal.

Later on, when he’d found out that Zack had turned down the work opportunity offered by the audit company, only accepting the cash prize, Theo had become even more outraged, feeling personally insulted by the act. If his team had won, he and Derek would’ve likely taken that work opportunity. Maya had already been working in the industry, as did many of their classmates by their second year, and Theo had wanted to join their ranks soon. But he’d had many fears related to that, so he might’ve also declined the opportunity if Derek hadn’t gone along with him. Still, he’d felt as if Zack had unjustly taken a chance away from him only to discard it, and it had pissed Theo off.

Furthermore, Zack had acted friendly with Theo up until the award ceremony. But, apparently, after finding himself at the top of the pyramid, Zack had showed his true smug-ass colors, glaring and scoffing at Theo whenever they’d come across each other around campus, in the student dorm or at the canteen. He’d often looked at Theo like he was a roach, far beneath him.

On top of all that, today marked the sixth time Zack had taken the last serving of meatballs right when Theo was less than a minute away from getting them. It drove him nuts that Zack was seemingly snatching a bunch of things Theo wanted right from under his nose.

In the present time, at the canteen, Theo couldn’t help glaring at Zack until a female voice loudly called out to him.

“Young man, are you here to eat or sightsee?” the lady in charge of serving asked.

“Ah, sorry.” Theo realized that he’d been holding up the line while glaring at Zack. “I’ll have the mashed potatoes with sausages, please,” he said, despite not liking sausages. He’d gotten flustered and hadn’t thought about alternatives after getting pissed at Zack for taking the meatballs.

Theo turned toward Zack, who glared in his direction while paying for his food and taking his tray to a table. Theo’s eye twitched, but he forced himself to stay focused to not hold up the line again.

He took his tray and turned to scan the tables in the canteen. At a corner table, Zack was eating alone. Whenever Theo saw him, Zack was almost always alone, and Theo figured it was because Zack was too arrogant to bother himself with other people’s company.

Finally, Theo spotted the table where Maya was waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” Maya said without malice when Theo sat across from her.

“Sorry. I wanted to finish the project for Communication Techniques so I can send it in and be done with it today.” Theo plunged his fork into one of the sausages on his plate and raised it. “Want one of these as an apology?”

Maya nodded and received the offering. “Why’d you get sausages if you dislike them?”

“I got distracted when I saw that Zack Zel was ahead of me in line. He took the last serving of meatballs again and, as always, he glared at me. My appetite was ruined three times in under five minutes.”

“Ah, I see.”

“But you don’t empathize.”

“Hey, I was also upset that we didn’t get first place after how much work we put into that campaign proposal, but it’s no use hating on the winner. Even you said that the judging had likely been fair after you’d calmed down and that we may have gotten cocky after our winning streak during freshman year. Let’s not harp over the past. We need to focus on crushing it at brieFEST.”

“Speaking of that, we gotta find a teammate by the end of next week,” Theo said, because brieFEST required a minimum of three and a maximum of five members per team, and the application phase for the contest ended on January the fourteenth.

“Yeah.” Maya sighed, then slammed a palm on the table. “I still can’t believe Derek bailed on us last minute like this. We were supposed to be The Three Marketeers. This is a betrayal.”

“Let’s not be too harsh. Derek’s been wanting a girlfriend ever since we’ve known him. Now that he’s found one, if she says ‘spend all your free time with me’, of course he’s gonna do it. With the euphoria of a new romance taking up all his brain space, he wouldn’t have focused on the contest anyway.”

“I get it, but that still leaves us with an urgent need for another teammate, preferably one with better design skills than ours.”

Within their usual team, Theo handled nearly everything related to doing research, establishing the target audience, coming up with marketing tactics and doing the planning.

Maya helped with all that, but since she’d been working for an event organizing startup, she was always in charge of anything that needed actual work experience, like making a realistic budget and media plan. Her biggest drawback was her fear of public speaking, which meant that she’d never participate in the actual presentation, leaving that part in the hands of Theo and Derek.

Derek contributed a bit to everything, but his main task was handling all the visuals required. Without a good designer to back them up, Theo and Maya’s pitch would look amateurish, regardless of how well all the other components would be handled.

“I know many people good at design, even from other departments,” Theo said. “But I don’t know who I should be asking to join us, because I’m not sure how seriously they’d take this, and I don’t wanna fill Derek’s slot at random.”

“Ah… I feel like that’s an implied ‘no’ to something I was gonna propose.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Well,” she said, leaning forward with a grin. “Let me give you the backstory first. So, last week, I met a guy here at the canteen when we bumped into each other, and our food trays fell on the floor. Then, we cleaned up the mess while awkwardly apologizing and, afterward, we ate together. Two days later, we had another casual canteen dinner date.”

Theo chuckled. “I love how your crushes always start with a mini-disaster.”

“I hate it how they always end with a big disaster, though. So, this time, I’m gonna give myself time to get to know the guy before I move on to anything more than hanging out.”

“If you give me his name, I can find out his department, year, current residence and a few personality traits by tomorrow evening.”

“Mr. Networking’s flexing hard,” Maya joked. “It’s not necessary, though. His name’s Will Moore, he’s a third year in the Accounting Department and he lives in the same dorm as you.”

“Ah, I know him. Curly hair and broad shoulders, right? We came out of the shower stalls at the same time, so I said, ‘Hi. You’re from one of the upper floors, right?’, and he said he lives on the highest one. Their water pressure sucks in the mornings and evenings when everyone’s taking showers, so he sometimes comes to a lower floor to do it.”

“Oh, great. You know how my crush looks topless before I do.”

“The perks of living in a dorm with common bathrooms… You should come stay there, too, even if just for the eye-candy.”

“Yours is an all-guys dorm…”

“You could pass as one,” Theo joked, referring more to Maya’s way of dressing and acting than to her appearance, then getting a light kick under the table from her. “Anyway, he seems like a cool guy. I’ve stumbled upon him at the nearby stores a couple of times, too.”

“I’m glad you get along, because we might be setting up several meetings with him in the near future.”

“Oh?”

“While we talked at dinner, I ended up bitching about the situation with Derek and us needing another teammate good at design. Will said that his roomie’s good at design and also in need of a team for brieFEST, so we could join our forces. Accounting students apparently don’t do many group projects, so Will would also like to join for the fun of it and contribute however he can. I told him that I’d talk to you about it, then get back to him with an answer.”

“I’m on board with it.”

“Really?”

“If Will’s roommate can actually take care of the design stuff, sure. One solution solves issues for several people. We two and Will’s roommate get to have a complete team for brieFEST, you get to learn more about your crush before deciding to date him and Will gets to be in a group project. In case Will’s roommate isn’t actually good at design, our team can have up to five members, so I’ll find someone like that to fill the slot, even if I have to do it fast.”

“Awesome! Thank you! I’ll text him and set up a meeting here in the canteen for tomorrow.”

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About the Author

Noja Lina

New writer on the romance block, Noja Lina likes writing uplifting contemporary romance stories. These stories are centered around engaging male characters, usually dealing with personal struggles alongside love struggles.

Noja lives in Romania, specifically Transylvania. When she’s not working at her full-time job or working on one of her stories, she enjoys her one-sided love relationship with various forms of Asian media, enjoys adding another cooking fail to the collection and hanging out with friends over a cold beer.

Find Noja on her website, on Facebook and on Twitter.

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Unbounded by C. Tyler

General Release Date: 31st January 2023

Word Count: 69,991
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 287

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
BILLIONAIRE
BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
MAFIA/GANGS
THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE

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Book Description

Sometimes, a little pain can lead to the greatest pleasure.

Bay Hurst had given up on relationships, content to ‘play’ instead. So when she found the perfect partner at a BDSM club, she knew what to expect—here for a moment, gone the next.

Six years later, that philosophy doesn’t hold as true.

When handsome stranger Michele Sacchi boards the yacht she works on, Bay is suddenly thrust head first into an unexpected situation. They’ve met before and, more than that, he was her perfect playmate.

Now the two must struggle with their desires as well as maintain a professional appearance, but there’s much more bubbling beneath the surface than even she realizes—and once they reach land, her world may erupt into chaos.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence and attempted murder.

Excerpt

Whenever I found myself in London, one place called to me, chanted my name over and over, enticing me to its belly.

Labyrinth was an establishment where membership was exclusive, and patrons had to fully trust one another. It catered to a specific clientele, to the people who enjoyed another side to eroticism, many of whom chose to remain anonymous.

Dress code consisted of whatever cocktail attire one owned and a mask. Whether made of lace, metal, cloth, or resin, a mask had remained mandatory since the beginning of Labyrinth’s reign.

I was not a member in the official sense. I couldn’t afford the fees, but the owner allowed me a free visit whenever I was in town, so long as I sang for my supper. And sing I would.

Music had been a passion of mine since childhood. The genre changed often, but my love for it never would. Music had the power to alter people’s moods, be it uplifting or heartbreaking. It could trigger memories or help create new ones. It meant the world to me, and singing in Labyrinth was the closest I’d ever get to being a part of that world.

When I’d finished my short set to a room filled with mysterious men and women, I left the small stage, met an instant later by a man in a suit with a black resin mask. Intense eyes stared at me, so dark that they blended effortlessly with the rest of his attire.

He offered me his hand, which I accepted and used to descend the rest of the stairs. My leather dress, fitted enough to have been painted on, creaked and groaned with each step. It clung so tightly to my legs that I welcomed his help.

The stranger brought me to him, our chests together. We each remained silent, even as he hooked his index finger beneath the lime-green bracelet I wore. Raising it high enough for us both to see, there’d been a hint of green peeking out from beneath the cuff of his suit jacket as well. We were a match, something that made my heart race.

Labyrinth had a system in which members could wear a paper bracelet, not unlike those at concerts, of varying colors. Different colors meant the wearer was into different things and cut out needless chit-chat.

“Interested?” he asked.

Hmm-mm, European, but not English. What is that?

His deep, alluring accent tickled something within me, a desire I hadn’t realized I’d had. I liked it and wanted more.

“Lead the way.”

He smiled at me, his full lips curling at the corner and begging to be nibbled on.

The stranger took my hand and together we retreated down a long hall of doors. Some were open, revealing their scintillating secrets to the world.

In one room stood a man with a hand braced against a piece of furniture, the other entwined in a woman’s hair while she bobbed up and down the length of his cock. The joy on his face told me all I needed to know.

In another room, a large, burly and hirsute gentleman donning a pair of impressive heels stood over a young man much thinner in frame, who placed multiple happy kisses to the toes of the stilettos.

Other doors had been shut, closing everyone out so that those inside could have the privacy they desired.

After a few moments, we came to an unoccupied room. He stood aside and motioned for me to enter before him, which I did.

Deep-colored walls surrounded me, lit by dim sconces. Each wall had been lined with racks of toys tastefully displayed and illuminated by beams of light as though they were modern pieces of art.

To the left rested a bed with cuffs in each corner to hold the player down, and not far from that sat a chaise lounge, a prime place for someone to sit while another individual groveled. But the suspension rack near the center of the room held my attention.

Cuffs and chains hung from each corner, but I had become more interested in the pair that dangled from the center beam, the wrist restraints that would bind one’s hands together above the head.

When I was situated far enough from the wall that nothing would impede whatever hung from it, I stood within the frame and turned to the stranger. He remained near the door, hands in his pockets while he sported a wicked grin. With my gaze locked to his, I gripped the restraints and lifted myself off the ground. They were very sturdy.

His smile broadened and, with the unspoken understanding that I’d found what I wanted, he closed the door to give us much-needed privacy. Hearing the latch engage caused my skin to prickle with excitement.

The stranger removed his jacket and laid it across the chaise. His cufflinks were next, which allowed him to roll the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, revealing thick, strong forearms beneath. Tattoos dotted his caramel-colored skin, though I didn’t bother identifying what they were.

As he prepared himself, I turned my attention to the walls of toys. One rack held whips, some with tips so thin they would break skin. Another held floggers like cat-o’-nine-tails. One held paddles, another slappers and from the last hung multiple riding crops.

Labyrinth catered to many preferences and, had I known the stranger better, I might have gone for something more adventurous. Seeing as I didn’t, I went with a selection that would be fun, but safer.

I returned to the stranger with a riding crop in one hand and a three-strip slapper in the other. One would offer a more concentrated snap while the second created a slightly duller thud. His eyes sparkled as he looked them over.

“Hmm.”

After a moment of consideration, he chose the slapper. My eagerness intensified. I quite liked slappers.

My stranger set the instrument aside and stepped behind me. Slowly but surely, he tugged the dress’s zipper down, loosening it around my body. When it reached the end, he slid his hands beneath the garment and proceeded to peel it away.

He dug his fingers into my body, along the curve of my waist and the slope of my hips while he pushed the dress down.

Within seconds, it rested in a pool of fabric at my feet, leaving me in nothing more than my lacy lingerie and four-inch heels.

He took my hand and guided me to the rack where he promptly secured my wrists, staring deep into my eyes as he did. My heart raced, lodging itself in my throat. The anticipation coursed through every inch of me, priming my nerves for what was to come.

In spite of how it appeared, I didn’t feel in danger. There was plenty of slack in the chains that would’ve allowed me to uncuff my wrists myself, and Labyrinth had a rigorous vetting process for their clientele. Regardless of how it may have appeared to someone on the outside, I was safe with the stranger.

“Bellisima,” he said.

Oh. So this sexy bastard is Italian. Even better.

My core ached.

Smirking, he draped my dress over the chaise with his jacket, took hold of the slapper and stepped behind me.

The first moment it touched my skin, I flinched. The cool leather and shock of it caused me to gasp. He chuckled.

He teased me for a while, running the slapper over the curve of my ass, along my spine and even down the backs of my thighs. He’d been tender, delicate, allowing each passing second to heighten the tension, and just before I could speak, before I had the chance to urge the stranger along, it happened.

A loud crack echoed through the room, shortly followed by my lustful gasp. He left the slapper in place for a breath, as though allowing the welt beneath it to form on my ass. The pain radiated through the whole of my body, infecting the smallest atom and causing me to vibrate.

It was just the beginning.

For what had to be nearly an hour, the stranger played with me. He would lull me into a sense of calm before bringing the slapper hard against my ass or the backs of my thighs. He knew what to do, how to tease every iota of pleasure out of me.

At one point, he stepped in front of me, looming tall. His eyes had turned black, any hint of brown choked out of existence with growing lust. I dared a glance down. His erection strained against his slacks. Their dark color helped hide it, but I wasn’t blind, more than able to see the line of his cock struggle to break free of the fabric. He was impressively sized, and images of me on my knees taking him into my mouth or him bending me over something and thrusting coursed through my head on an endless loop.

Sweeping my tongue across my upper lip, I stared at him through my lashes. He arched a thick brow. I doubted my intent had been unclear.

By that time in our play, my nipples had become painfully hard, rubbing against my bra and more wanting than before, while my clit throbbed and ached. I had no doubt that, if he chose to remove my panties, my excitement would’ve been visible. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had turned me on like that from nothing more than some paddling.

My stranger stared down at me. His jaw tightened, the muscles rolling beneath his olive skin. His chest heaved with each breath, and I knew I looked the same. Fire burned in my cheeks and between my legs. I wanted so badly for him to take me.

The image of him wrapping my legs around his waist and fucking me while I hung from the beam filled my mind. There was no hiding the shiver or the gasp that parted my lips. Sex wasn’t part of the deal with a green bracelet, but God save me, I wanted it.

He looked me over, and while I was desperate to come through my skin, he reached forward. My stranger ran the back of his curled index finger over my nipple. Pleasure tore through me, intensified when he pinched the sensitive bud. He groaned, running his full bottom lip through his teeth while he massaged my breast.

“If only we had more time.” He turned his attention to my other breast and gave it the same adoration. “I am certain we could have a lot of fun.”

I have no doubt.

He shifted his grip, running his hands up my arms and massaging my biceps. He met my gaze, his eyes burning black.

“This would be perfect for it, yes?” His hands trailed back down, over my breasts, along the curve of my waist and my hips.

“Yes.” The word had been little more than a whisper.

He bent forward, encompassing my ass with his hands. The softness of them did nothing to soothe the pain of his whipping.

My stranger lifted me with ease, guiding my legs around his hips and holding me close. I’d gasped at the suddenness of it, gripping my cuffs as best I could for better support.

He ground against my clit, keeping me at the perfect angle to feel the bulge of his cock millimeters from where I wanted it most. I chewed on my bottom lip, struggling to steady my breathing while my heart raced. He was giving me my fantasy, giving me what I’d begun to long for without me having to ask.

Jesus, was he made just for me?

“If given the chance,” he said, breath gliding across my lips while the spicy scent of his cologne filled my nose, “I could spend the night inside you.”

My pussy clenched on reflex, seemingly desperate to be given the opportunity, but I kept my exterior as calm as possible.

“You shouldn’t tease. It’s not very nice.”

A dark, wicked smirk curled his lips. In it, I sensed he’d made a promise, not an empty offer. Delightful thought, to be sure.

Digging his fingers into my ass harder than before, he began the slow, deliberate action of guiding me up the length of his shaft. I held my chains, desperate for the aid of them while he continued.

“I could spend the night making you shake.” His voice had grown as dark as the color of his eyes, a fathomless void that caressed me, called to me.

What’d begun slow and deliberate, as a teasing gesture meant to heighten the sex-filled atmosphere of our private room, had quickly devolved into something more. Within seconds, he worked harder, faster, eliciting sparks of joy each time my clit scraped along his shaft. It pushed me toward an end I hadn’t expected that night, an end that I had become desperate for.

“Yes,” I said on a breath.

My stranger leaned in, our bodies tight. The muscles in my arms burned. I’d been struggling to reach out for him, to wrap them around his thick shoulders, but the cuffs kept me in place. It remained my favorite part of being bound, the inability to touch my partner when I wanted to most.

He continued to bounce me in place, relentlessly rolling my hips into his unyielding cock. Dipping into the crook of my neck allowed his sweltering growls to glide across my exposed flesh, adding yet another layer to the moment.

The coil in my gut twisted more and more with each passing second. It wouldn’t be long.

“I would worship you,” he rasped, “just to hear your screams.”

His words were fading, drowned out by the thundering pulse in my ears.

“Don’t stop.” The mewling words had somehow managed to escape me.

My stranger drew back. I struggled to keep his gaze, to stare into his beautiful face, but he’d become determined in his action, fucking me like a wild man without penetration, and it was more than enough.

A string of Italian words left his lips, their encouraging tone the only thing that I could discern.

His gaze never left mine, tempting me further into the abyss. In spite of the mask that concealed so much of his face, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Come for me, bella,” he said in a deep, rough voice. “I want to hear it.”

I nodded and his efforts increased. I was swallowed up a second later.

When the coil sprang, I didn’t hold back. I cried out, filling our chamber with the sounds of my elation, allowing it to wash over me and release all the glorious tension he’d spent an hour building.

From somewhere in the back of my mind, I might have heard a similar sound leave him, though I was too lost to notice.

My stranger held my ass in one hand while his free arm encircled me. I quivered and shook against him, struggling to draw air into my lungs. He kept me secured to him, engulfing me with little effort and helping to pull my shattered body back together.

I had finally given out, my muscles jellied from the orgasm.

Letting out a stiff breath, my stranger loosened his grip and allowed my legs to slide from his hips until I could stand on my own once more. It’d been difficult to manage, but the cuffs weren’t suspended so high that they took me off my feet. Instead, they allowed me a bit of support.

His eyelids were heavy while a flash of pink swathed his cheeks. His full lips, perfect for biting, were parted with each huffing breath.

“I’m afraid this is the end of our play, my dear.” Genuine disappointment saturated his voice. He reached up to unlatch my wrists, standing so close that the heat of him infected me further. “Truly regrettable.”

I found his accent delicious, the way it affected each syllable and curled the consonants. He had the sort of rich voice that I could listen to for hours.

“Pity,” I said. Regardless of what’d transpired, how exhausted I’d become, I wanted more.

He smiled.

When my wrists had been freed, he retrieved my dress and offered it to me. I put it on while he righted himself, and soon it appeared as though nothing had happened.

My welts brought me back to reality, however. Each scrape of my dress across the raw skin helped remind me that it’d been real, which only served to breathe new life into those smoldering embers.

Out of curiosity, I peered at his groin. A slick sheen had overtaken the dark fabric and I knew not all the dampness had been mine.

“Will there be another performance tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not,” I replied, stomach fluttering at the prospect of spending more time with him. “I actually have to leave Lon—”

My gaze drifted to the clock hanging near the door and my heart dropped. I’d been so invested in our play that I hadn’t been paying attention to the time. At nearly one in the morning, I’d stayed much longer than I’d intended.

“Oh, shit,” I said in shock. “I-I have to go.” I raced for the door and threw it open. “I had fun!” I shouted over my shoulder while I ran down the hall as best as my tight dress and shoes would allow.

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About the Author

C. Tyler

A fan of any genre, C. Tyler enjoys writing a wide array of stories, from fantasy and paranormal, to contemporary. Whether it’s a bad boy biker, or a burly shifter, there’s a little something for almost everyone.

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Our Valentine’s by S.J. Coles

Book 2 in the Once Upon a Holiday series

General Release Date: 31st January 2023

Word Count: 13,249
Book Length: SHORT STORY
Pages: 61

Genres:

CELEBRITIES
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
FAKE RELATIONSHIPS
GAY
GLBTQI
HOLIDAYS

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Book Description

We’ll make it our Valentine’s—and the best show on Earth.

Everyone believes movie star Charlie Kearney lives a charmed life, not least because he recently returned to his hometown of Littleton with enigmatic fashion designer Jacques Clement on his arm. Their whirlwind romance and high-profile engagement have kept Charlie trending on the socials for weeks, and his management company couldn’t be happier.

But there’s just one problem. Charlie and Jacques aren’t engaged. They aren’t even in a relationship. Charlie needed someone to bring home for Christmas and had also hoped the news of their ‘engagement’ might tempt an old flame.

Things haven’t quite gone according to plan. Now Charlie feels he has no choice but to ask Jacques to continue with the charade, even though his fake fiancé has a Valentine’s Day fashion show in Paris to prepare for. Jacques agrees to stay, but Charlie is now beginning to wonder if saving face is the only reason he’s so desperate to keep Jacques in Littleton.

Excerpt

Radio Littleton had reported it as the coldest Christmas the region had seen in years. The snow had reached record levels by Christmas morning, and it was still falling. The wind blew the fat flakes in and out of the puddles of streetlight like confetti.

But Charlie Kearney couldn’t feel the cold. He didn’t see his breath fogging in the air. All he could see was Nick Bostock, the former love of his life, kissing their mutual friend Seph Rose in the circle of light cast by one of the park lanterns. When they broke apart and smiled at each other, Charlie’s chest tightened like a vise.

They turned and vanished together into the shadows.

“Charles? Are you okay?”

Charlie started. A small figure swathed in several overcoats stood just behind him. Black eyes twinkled up at him from under a home-knitted bobble hat.

“Auntie Mia? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just walking off some of that Christmas pud,” she said, patting her belly. Her brow creased with concern. “What’s wrong, love? You look like you’ve had a shock.”

“Nothing. Just…” He almost spilled everything. I was right. Nick didn’t really want me. He just thought he did. And now I don’t know what to do. He forced a smile. “Nothing.”

The old woman seemed to look right through him. She smiled softly and put a mittened hand on his elbow. “Remember when you fell off your bike outside my house, Charlie Kearney? You were, what? Seven?” Charlie nodded. “Well… That hurt, too, didn’t it? But it got better.” Her smile widened. “So will this. I promise.”

Charlie couldn’t find an answer, so he just nodded, swallowing the pain he hoped wasn’t showing on his face.

“Now,” she continued, patting his arm, “why don’t you head home? Get the kettle on. There isn’t much that isn’t eased by a cup of hot tea.”

Charlie smiled despite himself. “You should get home, too, Auntie Mia. It’s cold out here.”

“I will, love. Don’t you worry. Oh, where are you going?” she added when Charlie turned to follow the path past the church.

“I’m going home,” he said. “It’s quicker to walk through the park.”

“Oh, but you don’t have to walk, love. That nice young man of yours is waiting to give you a lift.”

“What? Who?”

“Your glamorous French friend.” Mia’s rosy cheeks dimpled as she smiled. “Jack, was it?”

Charlie blinked. “Jacques is here?”

“Just down there, love,” Mia said, pointing toward the road. “Now run along. He’ll be getting cold, too.”

Charlie peered through the falling snow, frowning. When he turned to ask her again, he found he was alone in the park. There weren’t even any footprints.

He shook his head and hurried toward the road.

Jacques’ hire car was pulled up at the curb. He leaned against the driver’s door with his hands tucked into his armpits. He was wrapped in a silk scarf the same ice blue as his eyes and a black wool overcoat that made his almond skin glow. The cold had brought pinkness to his pale cheeks. Snowflakes caught in his white-blond hair like jewels. When he spotted Charlie, a flash of warmth sparked in his cold, cold eyes. It sent a rush of confusing pleasure through Charlie’s chest. He told himself he was just grateful not to have to head back to his home at Arnold House alone.

“Jacques? I thought you were on your way to Heathrow.”

“Roads are blocked,” he said with an expressive shrug, his accent rolling over Charlie like liqueur coffee. “My flight tomorrow is canceled. Such is winter in this country. But the lady, uh”—he gestured toward the park—“I did not know her name. I think, a friend? She said you would be here. That you would need a lift?”

“Uh…” Charlie glanced back toward the park with a frown, but Mia was nowhere in sight. “Yeah, please, Jacques. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, mon ami,” Jacques replied, opening the driver’s door.

“Are you well?” Jacques said after a few moments of driving in silence.

“Fine.”

Jacques didn’t speak again on the journey back to Charlie’s parents’ house. Charlie could smell his light, lavender cologne and the drying wool of his coat but didn’t turn to look at him—didn’t dare in case Jacques saw everything in his expression. In the short time they’d known each other, Jacques seemed to have acquired the knack of reading him all too well. It was a talent rendered even more frustrating since Charlie could never guess what the Frenchman was thinking.

Jacques parked in the driveway of Arnold House, but Charlie made no move to get out. He stared at the Georgian mansion that was his childhood home, trying not to think about how he’d taken for granted he’d be returning to it with Nick, ready to reintroduce him to his parents—ready to finally tell them the truth.

He could feel Jacques watching him, but he still couldn’t move.

“What are you going to do?” Charlie eventually asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I will get a room in an ’otel,” Jacques said. “Then a new flight Monday.”

“You haven’t Tweeted anything yet, have you?”

Jacques shook his head. “Non. I was waiting for your message…as agreed.”

Charlie bit the inside of his cheek then finally met Jacques’ ice-blue gaze. “Could you come in for a moment?”

Jacques blinked. “Why?”

“Please. Just for a minute.”

Jacques lifted an eyebrow but shut off the engine and climbed out into the falling snow. He followed Charlie around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance. The large room was deliciously warm. The air was heavy with the smells of roast turkey, Christmas pudding and brandy. The sound of the TV drifted through the open door to the snug, along with the low tones of his parents in conversation. Charlie moved over to the door, quietly closed it then turned to face Jacques. He was eyeing the remains of the Christmas feast piled on the table and the general chaos of cooking heaping on the counters.

“Where is everybody?”

“The staff are all home with their families,” Charlie said, reaching for an open bottle of red wine and pouring himself a large glass. “Dad always insists on cooking Christmas dinner himself. Look, Jacques…” Charlie swallowed a large mouthful, taking a breath and willing his face to be blank. “Could you stay? For a little longer?”

Jacques raised his other eyebrow. “But the plan was—”

“New plan,” Charlie said, dredging up his best and what he hoped was his most winning Hollywood smile. “Can we keep this up a bit longer? Just a few weeks.”

Jacques stared at him a long moment. “So your Nick said no? After that performance in the library?”

Charlie winced, downed the wine and put the empty glass aside. “Apparently my test to make sure he really wanted me and not Curtis Bane worked a little too well.”

Jacques frowned delicately. “And Curtis Bane was…?”

Charlie gave him a look. “The role that launched my career. The action movie.”

Jacques’ thin lips twitched. “I always hated that one.”

“I know. You said.” Charlie felt a more genuine smile curve his mouth. “Most women aged twenty-five to forty-five would disagree. Plus, plenty of men they haven’t polled yet, too, I’m sure.”

“That is only because your shirt rips open when you are rescuing that annoying child from the explosion.” Jacques waved his hand dismissively. “And, yes, you have a very nice chest, mon ami. But you are better at the drama, non?”

“Drama doesn’t pay…or not enough,” Charlie said, heaving a sigh and staring at the floor. “Look… I know we had an agreement. But yeah…Nick…” He swallowed. “He’s not in the picture. And I don’t start shooting that superhero movie until March… What?”

The corner of Jacques’ mouth had turned up in a half-smile. It lit the ice of his eyes like sunlight, and Charlie blinked, startled.

“Pardon. I’m just trying to imagine the… Oh, what is English word? Tights.”

“Power Knight is a very prestigious role, actually,” Charlie replied, trying to sound arch but smiling. “But seriously, my management are monitoring every Tweet, every post, every bloody TikTok video. It’s vital my profile stays trending, Jacques. I thought us”—he motioned air-quotes in the air with his fingers—“‘breaking up’ would play well if I was then able to announce my engagement to Nick…”

“Engagement? Oh, mon cher.” His face was serious again. “I did not realize you felt so much for this man you hardly know.”

Hurt spiked through Charlie’s chest. He looked away. “The world is watching, is all. I’ve got that premiere in London, then I’m opening the village fête here in February. The press will be everywhere. They’ll want to see who I’m with.” He raised his eyes, looking imploringly at Jacques. “So, what do you say? Could you, you know, stick around? Be my fiancé a bit longer?”

“We agreed until Christmas only—a few weeks to encourage your profile, maybe entice this Nick person. And I wanted…” He paused, lowering his gaze. “I needed Art to move on. He wasn’t going to do that unless I proved I had done so first. So, that was the plan.” He shrugged. “Two out of three?”

“Has Art got the message?”

“I have had no contact.”

“Since?” Jacques’ face was blank. “Jacques?”

Jacques looked away. “Yesterday.”

“Well then. We’ve still got some work to do, right?” Jacques narrowed his eyes. “Please,” Charlie said, stepping closer. “Could you stay? Just until I figure out what I’m doing?”

Jacques’ face softened a fraction. “I have the Cupid Collection launch to prepare for. I need to find a new studio and, ah”—he threw up his hands—“there is so much to do in Paris. And we can’t very well carry on this charade in two different countries.”

“Could you not do it here?”

“Comment?” Jacques frowned.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, excitement and desperation building together. “Get all your stuff sent over and prepare the collection here. Bring over the models and everything. There’s enough room.”

Jacques’ eyes lit up for a moment but then cooled again. He shook his head. “I could not possibly intrude on your parents’ hospitality.”

“Are you kidding? My mum would love it.”

“And your father?”

Charlie winced. “Leave him to me. Please, Jacques,” he said, surprising himself and Jacques by grasping his hand. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

“But we are lying to them,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s making them happy,” Charlie whispered in reply, glancing toward the door. “All they’ve ever wanted is for me to get married. Me bringing you home has pleased them in a way none of my films ever has.”

“But I do need to work. You understand that?” His face was serious. “I cannot be gazing at you all the time…as nice as that would be.” He squeezed Charlie’s arm through his coat. A flicker went through Charlie’s body, which he staunchly ignored.

“You do what you need to do,” Charlie said. “Just please, come to the premiere? And the fête?”

Charlie held his breath as Jacques visibly pondered his proposal. Finally, he nodded. “Very well,” he said, “we can continue a little longer.”

“Thank you,” Charlie started emphatically but Jacques brought up a finger to quiet him.

“But just until Valentine’s Day, d’accord?” he said, his eyes hard. “I have to be back in Paris for the show by then.”

Charlie examined his face for a long moment, wondering at the discomfort behind his ribs. But he made himself nod. “Until Valentine’s. Deal.”

Jacques gestured to the snug. “Shall we?”

Charlie nodded eagerly, took Jacques’ arm and drew him to the door.

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About the Author

S. J. Coles

S. J. Coles is a Romance writer originally from Shropshire, UK. She has been writing stories for as long as she has been able to read them. Her biggest passion is exploring narratives through character relationships.

She finds writing LGBT/paranormal romance provides many unique and fulfilling opportunities to explore many (often neglected or under-represented) aspects of human experience, expectation, emotion and sexuality.

Among her biggest influences are LGBT Romance authors K J Charles and Josh Lanyon and Vampire Chronicles author Anne Rice.

Find S. J. Coles at her website and follow her on Instagram.

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The Montgomery Arrangement by Lori Fayre

Book 3 in the Unexpected Mergers series

General Release Date: 24th January 2023

Word Count: 50,086
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 190

Genres:

BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
FRIENDS TO LOVERS
OLDER WOMAN, YOUNGER MAN

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Book Description

Summer fling or something more?

Paige Montgomery had never given the future much thought until the opportunity of a lifetime falls into her lap. Confronted with a life-changing path, she decides that a vacation to Miami with her best friends, the Alexanders, will clear her head. However, Bryce Alexander has other ideas.

Bryce proposes an arrangement, something casual and mutually beneficial to help them both relax while they’re away from it all. There are only two conditions—no one can know and absolutely no emotions can be involved. Though he’s seven years younger, Paige thinks there could be merit in his suggestion.

Paige can’t escape the reality of where her life is headed or her long-time friend, Levi, who has his sights set on her. But what do they really mean to each other? And does Bryce mean more? While Bryce tries his hardest to escape the spotlight and his new reputation, Paige has to wrestle with the idea that she could just be a distraction to him. With a years-long friendship on the line, will they take a chance on love?

Excerpt

July 9

When Paige was working on a painting, time didn’t exist. By the time a piece of art was done, she could hardly remember doing it. The feeling was there, and it was easy to look at one stroke of color and say, “Oh, yeah, I was feeling very sad when I laid that down.” But she couldn’t tell you exactly when it had happened or why. So, when Bryce Alexander assured her that the pieces she’d donated to him were a big hit, she’d had a hard time believing him. Honestly, she couldn’t remember which ones she’d picked from storage to send him.

“I’m not kidding,” Bryce said through the speaker against her ear. “You outsold everyone else here.”

“You know me,” she said, trying her best to play it off. She fiddled with a strand of long blonde hair that had fallen out of her updo. “I’m always happy to help. I’m just glad they went to a good cause.”

“You could say that,” he said. “I’ve been invited to an afterparty—and I don’t mean to brag, but I think some of those girls are really into me.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Not exactly how I wanted my art to change lives.” Leave it to Bryce to turn a charity event into a prime opportunity to pick up women.

From what he’d told her, Bryce hadn’t wanted to go to the event in the first place. Carlton Alexander, wielding his fatherly authority all the way from Greece, had ordered it. Bryce had been getting into trouble lately—and not the kind that was easy to ignore. Over the past couple of years, the Alexanders had become celebrities. Maybe it was because the behind-the-scenes story of Jade and Spencer’s dramatic engagement period had gotten out, but it had skyrocketed business and put the family under a new kind of spotlight.

“Aren’t you supposed to be cutting back on the partying?” Paige asked, attempting to keep her tone neutral. It wasn’t her place to meddle in Bryce’s affairs, even if he was her friend.

“Daddy dearest isn’t here to enforce that rule,” Bryce argued. “Besides, these are art people. Charity art people, to be exact. How wild could the afterparty get?”

As one of those ‘art people’, Paige knew how wild they could be. Not that he’d listen to her if she warned him… It would only encourage him more. Releasing a sigh, Paige simply said, “Just promise me you’ll behave, okay? And don’t drink too much.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” His voice became quiet as he moved the phone away from his face, and she knew that some girl in a flashy dress had probably distracted him. “You know, you could always come with me. I can drop by and pick you up.”

“That sounds amazing, actually.” She leaned against the wall, wishing she could tell him yes. “Maybe some other time, though. I have my showing tonight, and I’ll have to be here at least another two hours.”

“All right,” Bryce said, and she almost thought she could hear disappointment in his voice. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Talk to you later, Bryce.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Paige,” he echoed her words softly.

There was silence before he hung up the phone. Paige sighed again. A night out with Bryce was always a good time, but she had responsibilities. He’d graduated from college only a couple of months earlier, and ever since he’d been free, he’d been an entirely new person. Paige could pick out the signs, the small changes over time, but it was a stark contrast to the Bryce she’d met nearly four years ago. She didn’t mind, but he could get carried away very easily.

Paige slipped her phone into the small handbag around her wrist. The night was not about Bryce. It was about her obligations. She’d tucked herself into a corner of the gallery, near an emergency exit, to take his phone call. Behind her, the sounds of the showing could still be heard—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the music and the critical whispers as people judged the art they had paid a high price to view. It was the kind of thing she dreamed of, but something wasn’t right.

Paige didn’t feel like herself. Her sleeveless evening gown was expensive, its flowing marbled skirts and cinched waist very stylish without being too eye-catching and flattered her slim figure. Unlike the other artists being featured at Gould’s Gallery, she didn’t want to stand out. They were all either dressed down for the night or wearing the strangest outfits that had to be impossibly uncomfortable. Normally, Paige would have done the same. Something had changed.

Paige turned her attention to the piece hanging on the gallery’s white wall in front of her. It didn’t feel like hers. It didn’t look like hers from afar. But, when she squinted, she recognized every brushstroke. It was one of her abstract paintings—a large canvas covered with varying strokes of paint, all a myriad of colors blocked off by bold black lines. Each day she would approach the canvas with a new mood, new thoughts and ideas, and paint. As she worked, she would take in the previous day’s progress and try to fix it. In the end, it hadn’t turned out the way she’d wanted, but she had been well over her deadline, and it would have to do.

“It’s beautiful work.” Levi Gould materialized beside her. “Though, I don’t think you were entirely happy making it.”

“I’m not entirely happy standing in front of it,” Paige shot back. She smiled, playing it off as humor, but there was mostly truth to it. She had to search hard to find pieces of herself in the paint, and it was a skewed image, blurry like a fogged mirror.

“Are you saying you’d be willing to part with it?”

Paige turned to look at him. Levi was classically handsome with his dark brown skin, neatly trimmed beard and long, thin braids. Like some of the other artists, he was dressed informally, in a T-shirt and blazer, a layered scarf, and white cargo pants with combat boots. His hair was covered with a black fedora, completing his monochromatic ensemble.

They had been friends since college, where they’d taken many of the same classes, but when the time came to choose a career, Paige had stuck with painting while Levi had opened his own gallery. It hadn’t taken long for Gould’s to become the exclusive art hub in New York City, one that all the up-and-coming artists had to be a part of.

Levi quirked an eyebrow at her, his dark brown eyes expectant. Paige realized that she hadn’t spoken for several moments, only stared at Levi.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked.

“Do you want to keep your painting or not?” Levi asked with a smile.

“I’m clearly not married to it,” she said with a shrug. “You can keep it.”

“I’m flattered that you’d offer, but that’s not what I had in mind. You might not be happy with your stunning work, but a patron is.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Mr. Talles has made a substantial offer, and I would like to graciously accept on your behalf.”

“Hold on. I thought this was just a showing,” Paige said, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“It is, darling, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn down an influential collector when he offers my friend five figures. Of course, I would get a ten percent commission since it’s my gallery.” He laughed. “You’re doing pretty well for yourself, aren’t you? I think this is the second work of yours that he’s bought.”

Paige could only nod, still struggling to wrap her head around the five figures part. Between this sale and the success of the charity auction, Paige felt a bit of her old confidence creeping back in.

“Is that a yes?” Levi asked. “Because he would like to take it home tonight.”

“He can have it,” Paige said, finally shaking herself from her fog. Levi turned away to speak to an assistant, ushering him away once he was done. Paige watched all of it from the corner of her eye, dividing her concentration between the two men and the painting and wondering why anyone would offer so much for it.

“For someone leaving with a considerable check tonight,” Levi whispered conspiratorially upon his return to her side, “you don’t seem overly thrilled. What is it that has you in such a glum mood?”

Paige smiled at him. “I’m over the moon. I am,” she added. “I’m slow at getting used to all this. I mean, I’m used to showings and people buying my stuff, but this is your gallery. This is Gould’s. And it’s my first time being here during a showing, so forgive me if I seem a little distant.”

“I’m nothing special, Paige Montgomery.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “You know me better than that.”

“You’re special to me.” Paige nodded to one of the women holding a glass of champagne and narrowing her eyes at a neighboring piece. “And you’re special to the critics.”

“I want to show you something,” he said, taking her hand. Paige didn’t argue, but she glanced around to see if anyone would notice them leaving together. The only person who spared them a look was the assistant placing a ‘Sold’ placard underneath her painting.

The upstairs of the gallery was roped off for the night. Not even the artists were allowed up until the next morning. Levi had converted the old loft of the building into an art studio where, for a hefty fee, artists could claim a five-by-five or ten-by-ten-foot square to work on their craft. Along with the space, they were also guaranteed exposure on the walls of the gallery once a month. It was a daring business venture, but it seemed to be doing well. A spot at Gould’s studio had a waiting list a mile long.

Levi lifted the black velvet rope that led to the stairwell, allowing them to duck underneath. The stairs were narrow, and there was no door at the landing. When Levi flipped on the fluorescent lights, Paige let out a gasp. She had toured the place, but that had been when it’d been staged for visitors. She knew how chaotic artists’ spaces could be, since she had to set one up wherever she was staying.

The loft seemed smaller than it had before, what with all the clutter scattered around. Half-painted canvases were propped on easels and along the wall. Wheeled carts jutted into the aisle marked off with duct tape, signifying whose space belonged to whom. The wood floors were stained with paint and streaks of charcoal. The open space was broken up with the occasional industrial column, but those were splattered with paint as well. It was a lived-in space with a view that most renters would kill for. Despite the chaos around her, Paige had never felt more at home in a new place before.

“We keep our kiln and sculpting equipment in the basement,” Levi told her as he led her farther in. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a sculptor rent a spot in here, though.” He took her to the tall windows in the back of the room, where the building opened up to the city. Since they were on the Lower East Side, Paige could see straight to the ocean and the Statue of Liberty.

“This is so different from what I remember,” Paige finally said. “And it’s not at all how it looks in the magazines.”

“Are you overwhelmed or disappointed?” Levi stepped up to the window, his tall silhouette set against the lights of the city.

“Neither,” she told him. “But I can certainly see why people are fighting for a spot here. I can feel the creative energy.”

“You should see it when we’re full,” Levi said. “It’s loud and messy, but it’s the best place to get work done. Though, we do argue about the music from time to time.” He motioned for her to join him, and she took slow steps to his side. There was something about him that night, something about the look in his eyes and the way that he spoke. If Paige didn’t know any better, she might think he was coming on to her.

“I’d like to see it one day,” she said. “I’ve thought about putting my name on the list, but I don’t know if I’ll be here when a spot opens up. I don’t know where I’ll go next, but I’ve been in New York too long. I’m starting to feel restless.”

“What if you could skip the wait?” he asked. “What if someone were to jump you to the front of the line? Do you think that would be worth sticking around for?”

Paige crossed her arms, focusing on the torch in Lady Liberty’s hand. “What did you have in mind?”

“One of my artists is going overseas.” He said it so casually, as though he weren’t trying to offer her a coveted spot at Gould’s that could skyrocket her career even farther. “There will be an open easel here if you want it.”

Paige turned to him with wide eyes. “I don’t think that would be fair to everyone else.”

“Being the owner comes with perks, love,” he told her. “And I know a good investment when I see one.”

Heat rushed to Paige’s face as she got the distinct impression that he wasn’t talking about her art anymore. “It’s a tempting offer,” she started, “but, I’ve been in a creative slump lately, and I don’t know if I could make anything worth being on display.” She chewed on her thumbnail as she thought. “The one down there must have been a fluke. I don’t want to take the spot and not produce anything,”

“It doesn’t matter if anyone thinks that it’s good enough,” Levi said, taking her free hand. Paige could do nothing but watch him as he pulled her closer. “It’s the curator’s discretion to show what he thinks is worth it. And you’re talking to a curator who sees beauty in all that you do, Paige.” He surprised her then by raising her hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

So, she wasn’t imagining things. Over the past couple of years, what with Jade and Clint in their own separate honeymoon phases, Paige had been spending more time with Levi. And, sure, there had been flirtations, but they were always playful, silly and when they were around other people. It was never something she had taken seriously, but the look in his dark brown eyes warned her that it was time to start.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” she asked, her voice coming out breathless.

Levi smiled kindly at her. “Of course, you can,” he told her. “I wouldn’t expect you to have an answer for me as early as tonight. How about you get back to me within ten days?”

“Ten days?” Paige balked. “Is that all you can give me?”

He laughed, a low rumbling sound that came from deep in his chest. “I want this for you, Paige, but it’s the best I can do. Like you said, there are a lot of people vying for this spot, and it wouldn’t be fair to make them wait for long.”

Off the top of her head, Paige could think of several reasons to say no. If she worked for Levi Gould, there would always be interviews to attend, photo ops and PR to deal with. And while all of it was good for business, it wasn’t her style. Paige liked to travel and see new things. While she would revisit places, she rarely stayed for long.

“New York is beautiful, but I’m not sure if it’s the place for me.” Having to rent an apartment in the city and take a taxi to work every day… Paige was unsure about a lot, but she knew that anything resembling a nine-to-five wasn’t in her future. She smiled at Levi to reassure him. “I’ll think about it and let you know, okay?”

“Works for me.” He gave her hand a small squeeze and turned back to the window.

Paige took a deep breath. She had ten days to decide if she was going to take a dream job and relocate her entire life to New York. The thing was, she wasn’t sure if it was her dream—or if it was just what she thought she wanted.

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About the Author

Lori Fayre

Lori Fayre was born and raised in a small South Georgia town. An obsessive consumer of romance throughout all media, she knew that it was the only genre she could ever write. Love should always be full of passion and adventure, and Lori proves as much in her novels that span multiple genres and pairings. When she’s not writing love stories, she enjoys reading, sketching, and spending time with her husband and Yorkie.

You can find Lori at her website here, follow her on Instagram, YouTube and TikTok.

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