Dark Surrender by Morgan Welsh

Book 1 in the A Vampire’s Call series

General Release Date: 30th August 2022

Word Count:  15,199
Book Length: NOVELLA
Pages: 74

GENRES:

BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL
VAMPIRES

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Book Description

Olivia Hargreaves had often fantasized about the man of her dreams. Little did she know he actually existed—and that he was a vampire.

Following a bad break-up and the need for a fresh start in her life, Olivia Hargreaves has moved from London to the US East Coast to be with her best friend. Now she has finally met the man of her dreams—literally.

Gabriel Langston, a vampire with the ability to get into the minds of humans has been entering her head and showing her the time of her life. When he turns up at the local bar she frequents, she is sure she must be losing it. Wealthy, powerful, commanding and impossibly handsome, Gabriel is different to any man she has ever known and there is no way she can resist the attraction.

And there is no way he will let her.

Excerpt

Gabriel tapped his finger on the desk before him. The evening was young, and his mind raced with the amount of work he had to do. There were so many things to set in place—messages to send, paperwork to be filed. It was the part of business that he hated, but it had to be done. Unlike some of those close to him he did not employ many people to see to such matters, though he could afford a staff of thousands.

A man like him—a vampire—was best operating outside the gaze of the world, and that meant staying away from the trappings of wealth and success. He did not need the publicity or the limelight. Instead, he chose to live quietly in the shadows where people were less likely to find him. He invested his money discreetly, choosing people that were like him or that wouldn’t ask questions.

Over the years he had acquired unprecedented experience in business and the wealth that came with it. He didn’t like to publicly flaunt it too much, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it. Living for centuries was much more satisfying when done in style.

His phone buzzed, and he stole a glance at the screen—he was to be at the bar at ten p.m. Plenty of time. The penthouse hotel suite that he occupied wasn’t far from there.

Gabriel took a swig of the warm red liquid next to him. He shut his eyes and savoured it as it made its way down his throat. Behind his closed lids an image of her face appeared. It had barely disappeared since he first saw her, weeks ago.

The street had been busy, but the only thing that he had seen was her. Her dark glossy hair bobbed at her chin, her olive skin flushed from the way she was rushing. She had stopped him in his tracks—and Gabriel Langston rarely stopped for anyone. A flash of anger had gripped him when he’d seen the guy on the street helping her after she’d dropped her file. It was the way his eyes had travelled up her legs as he bent to pick up the papers. He couldn’t blame him—it was what he would have done himself. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He had sat and watched from the café across the street as she then rushed into her office. Seconds later, she appeared at the window on the first floor. She had opened the window and pushed her short hair back from her face. Something in him had not wanted to leave until she left that evening, but as usual, he’d had work to do.

He took another sip and smiled.

Small cities and towns weren’t usually his thing. He was more of a big-city dweller. He liked the hustle and bustle, the never-ending chaos. In those places he could hide in plain sight, yet he was so glad that he had come here. Sometimes the most unexpected things could occur in the least likely of places—he should know that by now.

He had come here to help oversee the sale of the bar—a favour that he had owed someone, and he always kept his promises. These days such projects were a way of passing the time, utilizing his business acumen and keeping busy. Gabriel had not got where he was by sitting around. He liked the cut and thrust of the corporate world, whether that was big business or small ventures.

That instinct had led him here.

The time was close, he could feel it. He knew that she could, too. So many dark and delicious thoughts.

She was ready.

He wanted to peel the clothes from her body, see her standing before him naked and vulnerable. He wanted to take her nipples into his mouth and suck hard, before drawing his teeth over them and making her cry out for more.

He wanted to run his tongue along the crack of her sweet ass before turning her over and fucking her with it, then sucking on her clit.

He wanted to hear his name on her pretty lips as she threw her head back and exploded into his mouth.

He was ready.

Olivia Hargreaves was his.

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About the Author

Morgan Welsh

Morgan Welsh is a UK writer of paranormal and fantasy romance. She loves everything dark and gothic and will never tire of reading or writing about vampires, witches and the fantastical. Add some steam and she’s in her element. She lives with her husband and two children and somewhere dark and distant in her head. She’d love for you to join her there.

Find out more at Morgan’s website and follow her on Instagram.

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The Hunt God’s Hound by AT Lander

Book 3 in the Of Gods and Men series

General Release Date: 23rd August 2022

Word Count: 26,393
Book Length: NOVELLA
Pages: 113

Genres:

EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
GODS AND GODDESSES
HISTORICAL
WERESHIFTERS

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Book Description

Heroes aren’t real, and neither is love…right?

Conall, a snarky and cynical Irish goatherd, just wants a boring life—no quests, no heroes and definitely no curses. That all falls apart when a chance encounter with a Fomori sorcerer leaves him trapped in the body of a female wolfhound.

Arlen, a kind and noble hunter of the Tuatha de Danann, is tracking his most dangerous target yet, but his skills are not enough. To track this magical monster, he needs someone touched by its power…someone like Conall.

They strike a deal—to hunt their mutual enemy while Arlen bends the curse as much as he can. Now a hound by day and a human by night, Conall’s heart and instincts draw him to his handsome rescuer. When he goes into heat, it starts a tempest of passion and emotion that will either bring them together or tear them apart.

Can these two unlikely companions overcome an ancient evil, or will their story end in tragedy?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of animal slaughter, violence and injury. There is a cursed main character and mentions of breeding the shapeshifted MC.

Excerpt

Conall had definitely gotten fucked last night. Fucked and drunk. There was an unpleasant ache in his head, along with the lovely ache in his ass. He waited for his uncle’s shouting to pierce through his hangover, but it didn’t come.

That was nice. The bed was also nice, a warm nest of blankets with a firm mattress—a breathing, human mattress. That explained the ‘fucked’ part of last night, as well as the lack of yelling—he had to be in someone else’s house.

Or someone else’s tent, as Conall saw when he opened his eyes. The previous night came flooding back to him, and he grinned at the memory. The local lord had thrown a feast to honor some victorious mercenaries, and someone had remembered Conall’s skillful blow jobs. After that, there had been mead and song and some fun manhandling by a big fellow with delightful stamina.

Then memory gave way to realization. There was light filtering in through the tent-flap, the gray light of a misty dawn.

“Fuck!” Conall cursed. He should’ve been up an hour ago.

“Whazzat?” his bedmate groaned. “Stop yelling. It’s too early.”

”Goatherd’s hours,” Conall said, though he privately agreed. “Where’d you throw my clothes?”

“Why would you want clothes?” the man asked, rolling over. A hot erection nudged against Conall’s hip, making his resolve waver. “A few more minutes can’t hurt…”

“I-I have to get to work,” Conall said, fighting down his suicidal libido. After what had happened last night, he knew it wouldn’t be just ‘a few minutes’. “If I’m any later, my uncle will butcher me—”

“Your uncle, whoever he is, doesn’t scare me,” the man said breezily.

“Good for you,” Conall said. He spotted his robe and reached out of the blankets to grab it. “He’s not going to beat your ass.”

“Don’t worry about your pretty little ass,” the mercenary said with casual confidence and a pat on Conall’s rump. “I’ll keep him away from it.”

“I’m sure you will.” Conall scoffed—he’d heard that line a thousand times. “Right up until you ride off for the next war and leave me to his tender mercies.”

Conall ducked back under the covers to avoid the morning chill and did his best to wrestle the robe on without elbowing his large bedmate. It didn’t work—Conall was tall and gangly and the mercenary took up too much space. He almost jabbed the man in the face before a massive hand caught his arm.

“Why would I leave such a great piece of ass in a place like this?” the mercenary asked, like Conall was speaking nonsense. “You’ll come with me. When I’m rich and famous, you can stay in my big bed all day!”

He grinned like an optimistic idiot, and actually winked at Conall.

“So you’re going to be the next Cú Chulainn?” Conall asked dryly. “Make your name fighting and die horribly before you’re thirty?”

“Life’s short,” the man said, “but people will tell my legend forever. You’ll be in the stories too—‘the great hero’s honey-treat’.”

Conall couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing. The big lummox blinked at him in confusion, but didn’t resist when Conall tugged his arm free.

“Good luck with that,” Conall said, rolling out of the nest of blankets. The sharp chill of an Irish morning bit into his feet, and he grabbed his boots as fast as possible. “I’ll keep an ear out when the bards come through.”

The man blinked again, tilted his head as though trying to think, then shrugged. “Your loss.”

“Yep,” Conall said, and crawled out of the low tent.

It wasn’t until he felt cold air on his face that he rolled his eyes. Did the man really expect him to run off with a stranger after one good fuck and some grandiose promises? He couldn’t toss a rock without hitting a would-be hero in this part of Munster, and for every one that won cattle and glory, there were a thousand failures. Conall had survived twenty-five boring, safe years and fully intended to keep that streak going.

The mercenary camp was outside the hill fort and on the opposite side from the village, so Conall had to run. It was second nature by now—dodging between buildings, livestock and townsfolk.

He braided his shoulder-length hair as he went, pulling the black strands out of his face and tying them with a leather thong. A few of his regular bedmates threw out catcalls, and he grinned back.

At last, he came to his uncle’s house. It was built from stone, perfectly round and larger than many. The goat pen was out back, but Conall’s sling, staff and any chance at breakfast were inside. He had to run the gauntlet if he wanted to get them before his uncle caught him, but he’d been getting faster and his uncle slower every day.

He darted in and grabbed his weapons without even needing to look, then went for the cook-fire that a servant girl was sleepily poking.

“Hey!” she cried as he swiped three small flatbreads straight off the griddle. One went into his mouth and the other two into a fold of his cloak, the light burns worth each second of speed.

“There you are, you son of a bitch!” his uncle yelled, but Conall was already out of the door.

“Son of your sister,” Conall muttered around his breakfast. He’d weather the inevitable storm after he took the goats out to pasture. It was almost boring—he could practically recite his uncle’s rant from memory.

Just another typical day in the life of Conall mac Cormac…

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About the Author

AT Lander

AT Lander has loved stories, both the reading and the telling, since she was a child. Born in upstate New York to an English professor and a former librarian, she now lives in the queerest part of Massachusetts. She never leaves home without a knitting project or a pencil, and she’s never met a cat she doesn’t like.

She has worked as an history museum guide, a professional storyteller, and an actress, sharing tales of what was, what could have been, and what can only be imagined. World mythology is her driving passion, as what better way to understand a people than through the tales they tell?

Follow AT Lander on Twitter and Facebook.

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Stolen Bride by Samantha Cayto

Book 3 in the Treaty Brides series

General Release Date: 23rd Aug 2022

Word Count: 50,612
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 181

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
EROTIC ROMANCE
FANTASY
GAY
GLBTQI
ROYALS

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Book Description

Being a bride is a state of mind, not of body.

Prince Ronan of Moorcondia knows he is one of the luckiest boys alive. As the king’s second son, he has status and wealth without the heavy weight of the crown. Every man admires his hedonistic ways, but his behavior masks a shame that he feels. What he really desires is a quiet life with a man whom he can love.

Jarl Tarben is on a mission to save his people from starvation. Efforts to forge a treaty with Moorcondia have come to naught. In a desperate bid, Tarben has been tasked with abducting Ronan and forcing him into marriage. As distasteful and dishonorable as the scheme is, duty demands that he obey. He refuses to bed the prince by force, however, leaving it Ronan’s choice.

Ronan vows not to succumb to the temptation that Tarben presents. Pride alone dictates that he remain chaste, even as he grows closer to the barbarian. Tarben is everything Ronan ever dreamed of, and the lure of him grows stronger with each day that politics keeps them together.

When unseen forces threaten to consume them both, they must put aside pride and join forces to protect both their peoples.

Reader advisory: This book features an instance of sexual assault and a forced marriage.

Excerpt

“Drink up, your highness. You’re falling behind.”

Ronan, younger son of the king of Moorcondia, shot his companion the kind of prideful grin that he’d carefully cultivated since arriving at the university. “Alas, I have to leave for an assignation with a lady and can’t afford to be too much in my cups.” He slid the glass of beer back in the direction of his classmate.

The boy barked out a laugh and clapped Ronan on his shoulder with the kind of bone-jarring exuberance that seemed so common among boys of their age. Ronan didn’t understand why every interaction had to turn into a contest of inflicting pain and humiliation. The others thought it all hilarious, reinforcing what he’d known for most of his life. He was not like them, not like any boy he’d ever met.

Not even his studious older brother thought anything strange about the rough and tumble lives of their male friends. It was merely that as the future ruler of their country, Morlen had the weight of duty on his shoulders and had to prepare for the time he would ascend to the throne. Such was the fate of the one of them who’d come out of the womb first, even by mere moments. He joined them when he could for nights of drinking and carousing, careful always not to do anything to tarnish his reputation. As the ‘spare’ in the family, Ronan had no expectations and could do most anything he liked. No, not really. He was only able to get away with what people thought a young, rich man would do. Too bad those were things he didn’t like at all.

He didn’t let his desires show on his face and instead bade his companions a good night. They gave him a raucous send-off, filled with innuendos of what they assumed he would get up to and demanding a full report the next day. He joined in the merriment with rehearsed bravado. “Now, lads, you know a gentleman never speaks of what happens between the sheets. I shall only say that I’m glad we don’t have classes tomorrow.”

Ronan threw on his heavy cloak and braced for the chilly night he knew waited for him outside. Spring was only grudgingly arriving, but his semester of classes would soon come to an end, and he could return to Moorcondia for the summer recess. It would be a relief to finally go home. This first year of university had proven more taxing than he’d expected. It wasn’t his studies. It was the strain of keeping up his pretense of being a profligate rake. No one forced him to play this charade. Morlen certainly didn’t care. But Ronan feared that if he didn’t present the image of masculinity that everyone expected, they would easily see inside him, to his true self. He wasn’t sure he could bear the scorn he felt certain would come his way.

I am a coward.

He considered, as he had many times, asking his parents to let him drop out. A university education was relatively new among the royal family. They might not care if he came back or not. But if he didn’t, what would he do then? No matter how everyone had become accustomed to his uncle’s new wife, Ronan wasn’t so stupid as to assume his family and the members of court would accept him in any role other than an advisor to his brother. He would be expected to marry the proper noblewoman to add to the next generation of the family. That was his destiny, and staying at university helped put that eventuality off for a few years. There was value in that.

Ronan’s personal guard, a somewhat grizzled man who was nonetheless capable of breaking a man’s neck with a single twist, pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up in the drinking house and silently followed in Ronan’s wake. He hated having to be chained to someone else all the time, but one older man who held no interest for him and kept his opinions to himself wasn’t so bad, although the man’s silent censure was often palpable. It was better than the contingent of younger guards who surrounded Morlen day and night—not that anyone really thought they were at risk here in this seat of learning… Still, it was important for the realm as well as each of them personally that they be safe from any violence. With Sir Frauk at his back, no one dared so much as shoot an angry look at him. Ronan simply had to pretend he didn’t care about being shadowed by another who undoubtedly gave the king regular reports on how his younger son was running wild. His whole life had become one long effort at play-acting. It felt as if no one truly understood who and what he was, not even his twin.

Ronan tugged his cloak closer as he walked through the nearly empty streets of the old city, the sound of Sir Frauk’s heavy-booted tread behind him. Monks had settled here long ago, attracting more people and founding a community. Starting a place of higher learning had come naturally to those original men, and now the university was surrounded by a vibrant city that existed on the edge of Moorcondia. It was a hub of trading, as well, attracting commerce from all over, except from those people who dwelled in the Dark Mountains. They kept to themselves, enigmas as much as the land where they lived. The craggy rocks were not inviting and rose high into the clouds.

They cast a looming shadow over this part of the city in particular—not surprising, given that this was where one went for less savory pursuits. The boys at the university considered it a badge of courage that they ventured here late at night. Ronan despised it and couldn’t wait to reach his apartments. All he wanted to do was take a relaxing bath and curl up in bed with a good book. He could picture his valet waiting patiently for his return. Unlike Frauk, Igon was quick to show his disapproval of Ronan’s nighttime pursuits. But once he’d settled Ronan into bed, he left him blessedly alone.

Ronan picked up his pace with eyes on the uneven cobblestones to ensure that he didn’t slip. The fashionable boots he wore pleased him, but they weren’t very sturdy. The last thing he wanted was for Frauk to think it was drink that made him stumble. The man suddenly uttered a muted cry, very unlike him. Ronan turned to see why and froze at the sight of the large soldier crashing to the ground. Another man, little more than a dark figure, heavily armed, loomed over him. Ronan stepped forward, although to do what he couldn’t fathom. He was terrible at the martial arts and didn’t possess so much as knife on him.

A rush of air and a flicker of something out of the corner of his eye was all the warning he got before someone grabbed him from behind. He was swept off his feet, and a cloth was pressed against his nose and mouth. Trained in warfare as he was, he instinctively started to put up a fight. Whoever had him, though, was far stronger, the man’s massive arm holding him around his chest in a vise-like grip. And there was something soaking the gag, a sweet smell that made his head swim. As he fought to regain his freedom, the drug caused his muscles to go lax. Then there was nothing.

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About the Author

Samantha Cayto

Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.

She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don’t understand why they can’t read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.

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Buried by Despair by Jayce Carter

Book 3 in the Dark Sanctuary Series

General Release Date: 23rd August 2022

Word Count:  79,908
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 297

GENRES:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
MÉNAGE AND MULTIPLE PARTNERS
REVERSE HAREM

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Book Description

One brat against three Doms—let the fun begin.

After an attack leaves Kat with scars—both the ones on her skin and others far deeper—she tries to hide from the world. Even going to Sanctuary, where she’d always felt safe before, seems too difficult. Each time she looks in the mirror, she can’t see the confident woman she used to be.

Dean, Olin and Bradley can’t stop thinking about the feisty brat who has lost her spark. They miss the way she used to smile, how she stood toe-to-toe with anyone, and now they’ll do whatever it takes to help her find that part of herself again.

A happily ever after will be more difficult than any of them expect, however, as the threat to Kat turns out to be far from over. Bodies start to appear that look just like her, and the man who hurt her is closing in on them all.

Can Kat find her strength again or will the man stalking her finish her off this time?

Excerpt

This isn’t right at all.

Frustration caused Kat to toss her pen across the desk. After six different attempts at the same cartoon, she’d hit her limit.

She needed to get something new up on her store, since she’d kept up with a biweekly schedule for over two years without fail, but nothing had come to her. Somehow, all those cute little ideas she normally had, the quips, the humor, the adorable characters with large eyes and charm, sat just out of reach.

Kat folded her arms on her desk and dropped her head onto them. Her back ached from the hours she’d spent staring at her sketch pad, from all the attempts that had led to nothing. She kept thinking that if she started drawing, some idea would come to her.

It always had before.

The problem?

Each time she tried, her brain went AWOL, and she found herself back in that damned hotel room. A flash of pain, the memory of a smirking face—

“Knock it off!” She stood, shaking her hands as if that would dispel the memory she’d been running from for the past few weeks.

It didn’t work, but what other option did she have?

Kat paced, then reached to smooth her hands over her hair. She grimaced at how oily it was. How long had it been since she’d washed it?

Days. Maybe longer?

The sensation grossed her out, but the idea of stripping down, of taking a shower, that seemed far worse. She hadn’t been willing to attempt it, choosing instead to use clean wipes on the important areas.

Fox Asher, the doctor who had taken care of her at the hospital, had said no baths anyway.

Fine by me. What does it matter?

Kat sighed and shook her head. She’d never been a coward before, so what was wrong with her now?

The ringing of her phone made her jump, her fingers clutching the front of her button-up pajama top, as if holding it closed made it into some sort of armor. Once it filtered through her head that it was only her phone, Kat cursed herself and picked up her cell from the desk.

Sunny’s name flashed across the screen, and the desire to ignore it hit her.

Then again, if she didn’t answer, Sunny would show up with Garrison, Connor and Trent in tow. Kat had ignored calls for days, having no desire to talk to anyone, but that sort of understanding only went so far.

Not only was Sunny sweet, but the Doms of Sanctuary, the BDSM club that felt like the one place in the whole world where Kat belonged, were both protective and tenacious. The last thing she needed was for any of them to show up and disturb her hiding.

She sighed and answered the call. “Hey, Sunny.”

“Kat…” Sunny’s voice was exactly what Kat didn’t want to hear. It was pity and worry.

At least it was Sunny and not Ell, though. Sunny was sweet and worried, but Ell had been there. Kat couldn’t handle seeing that knowledge in Ell’s face.

Kat forced some levity into her voice, faking a smile she didn’t feel. “What’s with that voice? Did you make the mistake of taking my advice and hiding Trent’s paddle?” The last word caught in Kat’s throat.

Something that would have made her laugh before felt like swallowing rusty nails, and that same memory of pain hit her.

“I just miss you,” Sunny said, ignoring Kat’s statement. Damn, it would have been so much easier if Sunny was carefree. Instead, she had that ‘I really care’ tone of voice.

“I’ve been busy with work,” Kat lied.

“Uh-huh. Well, I thought maybe you could come over soon? We could have dinner. I’ll cook something you love.”

“I’m swamped right now. It’s not a good time.”

Sunny sighed. “You can’t just hide away from the world.”

“I’m not.”

“I know how you feel, but you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Kat squeezed her eyes shut and trapped the words she wanted to scream inside her head. She wanted to tell Sunny that she had no idea what Kat was going through, that she didn’t need sympathy, that what she needed was to get back to regular life and forget the whole thing as soon as possible.

Yet…when offered a chance at regular—meaning dinner with her friends—Kat couldn’t stomach the idea.

“There isn’t anything to worry about,” Kat said. “I really need to get going, though. We’ll talk again soon, okay?”

Sunny’s voice echoed through the line, but Kat didn’t want to hear it. She hit the End button, her head pounding, her breath racing. She all but collapsed into her office chair, her knees weak and her hands trembling.

The ringing of the phone made her squeeze her eyes shut as she dropped her head into her hands and ignored the sound.

Her life had changed so much but she couldn’t move forward.

And each time she shut her eyes, all she could see was the face of the man who had done it to her, who had turned her into this, and she wasn’t sure if that would ever go away.

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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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Title:  Better Than Home

Series: Better Than Stories, 6

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Narrator: Nick J. Russo

Original Release Date: April 18, 2022

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 35K

Genre: Romance, Contemporary, MM Romance, Bisexual, Established Couple

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Synopsis

The lawyer, the diva, and a new adventure…

Matt-

Life is good. A few years ago, I met someone special, came out as bi, fell head over heels, and married the love of my life. A man. But not just any man.

Aaron is a confident, unapologetically fabulous diva who isn’t afraid to take chances. I love that about him. New state, new career path…no problem.
Except things don’t always go according to plan. That’s okay. It might be the perfect time to get back to basics and check off a few items on our original list…like buy a house and start a family. Whoa! House first.

However, house hunting isn’t glamorous at all, and with my partnership at the law firm in the balance, it’s kind of stressful. Everything we’ve dreamed of is within reach—if we can just find a place that feels like home, we’ll be better than good.

Better Than Home is a sweet and sexy novella featuring Matt and Aaron from my International Bestselling book, Better Than Good. The lawyer, the diva, and the happy ever after of a lifetime. For readers who know the real love story happens after the first “I love you.”

Excerpt

Chandler went quiet for a moment in what I was sure was a calculated sales technique. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle and sincere.

“Let me show you one more older home next weekend. It’s outside of Bethesda. Great property, lots of land, very private, but in a great neighborhood. It’s not even on the market yet. The listing is supposed to be up by next week. However, I can give you an early pass at it. If you hate it, we’ll go back to the drawing board. Thoughts?”

Aaron shot a quick sideways glance my way. “It’s a date.”

“Not a real date,” I qualified like a real dumbass. “I mean…yes. That sounds good.”

Chandler grinned, then led us through the green-carpeted maze of the house. We said another round of good-byes before heading to our car.

I pulled away from the curb and scowled. “A date?”

“Hmm?” Aaron scrolled the playlist on his cell before fastening his seat belt. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to date Chandler,” I groused.

“A house-hunting date.” He snickered.

I tore my gaze from the road for a second and did a double take. “Are you smiling?”

“Yep. What’s wrong with smiling?”

I slowed at the stop sign on the corner. “Theoretically, nothing. But you look amused.”

“And what’s wrong with being amused?” Aaron countered, more amused and smiley than ever.

“Hmph. I’m getting sick of Chandler. And now…you’re really smiling.”

Aaron pursed his lips as if in an effort to keep his grin from spreading like wildfire across his face. He captured my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“I am. You’re cute when you’re pretend jealous.”

“I’m not pretend jealous or real jealous,” I protested.

“Maybe a smidge?” he teased, biting my thumb.

I yanked my hand away and fixed him with a mock glare that had him howling as I shifted gears and pulled into traffic again. “Okay, fine. Chandler has a crush on you and I don’t like it.”

“No, he doesn’t. But I suppose this is a good time to remind you that you are quite literally the best thing that ever happened to me,” he hummed dreamily.

I stole a peek at him. “Uh…thanks. What does that have to do with our infatuated real estate agent?”

“Chandler is straight. His ex-girlfriend is an editorial assistant at the magazine. And he isn’t the problem anyway. You’re not having fun.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t enjoy spending every Saturday with a hunky agent who drools over my husband like he’s the last brownie at a family picnic.”

Aaron chortled merrily. “I’m saving myself for you. Corner and middle pieces…all yours.”

I chuckled along with him. “So…what are we gonna do about this house dilemma? There’s no way we’re moving into a fixer-upper. We are not those people.”

“But…what if we learned to be those people?” he asked in a careful tone.

“Huh? How? When?” I shot another sideways glance in his direction before turning down an idyllic road with green fields dotted with massive trees, wild flowers, and horses in the distance.

He circled his wrist in that way he did when he was excited about an idea. “Hear me out. I’m just thinking aloud…what if we were the general contractors?”

“If we were the contractors, the house would fall around our ears,” I snarked.

“I’m serious, Matty. Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about this. I’m not suggesting doing anything crazy ourselves, but we can certainly piece a few minor repairs and updates together to make a tired old house into a fabulous new home.”

“No, we can’t. We work. The last thing we’re going to want to do is sand floors or paint. We’ve done the painting thing before and—”

“And it was great! Our walls are perfection. Every color was chosen with love and applied with care. We can do it again.”

Oh, boy.

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Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, 2018-2019, and 2020-2021 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.

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Conjure Lake by Rebecca Henry

General Release Date: 16th August 2022

Word Count: 85,529
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 300

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
FANTASY
PARANORMAL
ROMANCE
YOUNG ADULT

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Book Description

When feelings are more than a warning, they become haunting.

Eighteen-year-old Serena is attending university on the west coast when her life is flipped upside down. After the untimely death of her parents, Serena returns to New York City to care for her seven-year-old brother, Jack. As financial pressures mount, Serena makes the difficult decision to move them to their family’s heritage lake house in upstate New York.

Jack hasn’t spoken to anyone but her since their parents’ death and Serena’s only focus is learning how to become a full-time mother to her little brother with the hope that she can save him from his sorrow. But when the siblings arrive in the tiny and isolated town of Corvin Grove, they realize their family’s name raises eyebrows from the townsfolk as the two settle into the abandoned lake home.

It doesn’t take long for the siblings to discover that things inside the gothic house are not what they appear to be. An ancient witch has cursed Conjure Lake and if they stay in Korwin Cottage, they may never make it out alive.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of horror, gore and child endangerment. There are references to past animal death.

Publisher’s Note: This book is related to the Ambrosia Hill series.

Excerpt

Serena closed the suitcase on her bed, zipping up what was left of her life in New York City, and slipped the tote bag carrying her sketchpad over her shoulder. Little remained to be done—everything had already been sealed in brown boxes and moved to a cold storage unit on the edge of the city. A lifetime of memories of baby books, photo albums, old Christmas decorations, her father’s first guitar, her mother’s easel—all packed and sleeping in the dark. Just like her parents, who now lay in the ground, side by side for eternity. The little things that had once made their house a home were now buried in their own coffins, never to be resurrected and soon to be forgotten.

After the funeral, Serena had vowed she’d never visit her parents’ graves. There was no point. Rose and Edward Bancroft were now just two names written in stone atop a lonely hill at the back of a cold and isolated graveyard. Like her parents, she didn’t believe in an afterlife. Neither her mom nor her dad had been religious—if anything, they were like scientists, putting faith in what science could prove. It seemed gruesome and unfair to leave their bodies rotting in the cold, hard ground. Serena never wanted to remember her parents as muted, decayed and sealed in a box six feet under the earth. Whatever made them human—whatever the soul was, if there ever was one—had departed the day they died. What was left in those graves was nothing but corpses.

Rose and Edward Bancroft had been killed in a car accident during a rainy afternoon drive to the library to pick up her little brother, Jack. The police officer who worked the scene assured Serena that they likely never saw the semi-truck that had smashed into their car, killing them both instantly. No, for them it began and ended with a glimpse into each other’s eyes—a last look at this world in the face of their true love.

But for Serena and Jack, it was an end and a beginning. The end of a life as a happy family, and the beginning of something else—an eternity as orphans.

Suitcase in hand, Serena paused at the doorway, looking around her childhood bedroom for the last time. The walls echoed with memories, haunted by ghosts of sacred moments she’d never again share with her mother. Her first night home after the funeral had been unbearable. The absence of her parents had felt like a physical thing, a black void so large there was no room to breathe in their city apartment. It was as if their ghosts lingered in their belongings. Her father’s reading glasses still lay abandoned on the coffee table next to the weekly paper. Her mother’s apron hung forgotten by the oven.

A car honked outside, startling Serena from her reverie. A quick glance out of the window told her the cab had arrived to deliver them to their new life. Serena sighed as she dragged her heavy suitcase to the ground and rolled it down the empty hallway for the last time. “The taxi is here, Jack!” she called out to her brother. “We’ve got to get going if we are going to catch our train.” He didn’t answer, not that she expected him to.

Jack had always been quiet—more of an observer than a talker. Their dad had referred to him as “his little professor” because he always had his nose in a book. Most of his friends were the librarians who pulled aside books for him and brought him treats, usually delivered with a wink and a smile. Jack would glance up at them with a silent nod of appreciation, pressing all four of his fingers against the lenses of his glasses as he pushed them up his nose, leaving them eternally smudged with fingerprints. But after the accident Jack had stopped speaking completely. No one, not even his beloved wiener dog Tinker, could reach his island of grief.

From that terrible day and every day since, Serena had done all she could for her little brother. At age seven, Jack was far too young to be alone, so Serena had left her life behind at the University of California to be with her brother back in New York so he could finish the school year. Those first days had been hard. The thought of getting out of bed and making breakfast before their walk to Jack’s school had seemed insurmountable, but they had managed. Now the school year was finally over and summer had come.

Serena stood in the foyer, eyes closed as she imagined her parents’ laughter around the breakfast table, their kisses on their foreheads at bedtime. But nothing, certainly not wishes, could conjure them back.

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About the Author

Rebecca Henry

Rebecca Henry is an American author living abroad in England. She is a devoted vegan who gardens, practices yoga, crafts, travels the world, and bakes. Rebecca’s favorite holiday is Halloween, and she is obsessed with anything and everything witchy! Besides writing fiction, Rebecca is also the author of her vegan holiday cookbook collection. Her love for animals, baking with her family, having a plant-based diet and cruelty-free food all came together in her holiday cookbook collection.

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