Snowbound with the Billionaire
by Aurora Russell

General Release Date: 23rd March 2021

Word Count: 59,719
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 222
Heat Rating: Sizzling
Sexometer: 2

Genres:

ACTION AND ADVENTURE
BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
ENEMIES TO LOVERS
EROTIC ROMANCE
MYSTERY
THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE

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Book Description

A blizzard traps her in a remote cabin with a man she can’t stand. But what if she doesn’t want to leave when the snow clears?

Marina Lopez might have sworn off love for herself, but that doesn’t stop her from being overjoyed that her best friend Annelise has found true happiness with her new man. Determined to help the couple celebrate in style, Marina drives up early to help organize their engagement party at a lodge in rural Vermont owned by the Gaspards, the future bridegroom’s wealthy, powerful family. Unfortunately, the weather reports were wrong and she gets snowed in with just about the last person she ever wanted to face again.

Pierre Gaspard, the head of his family, company and financial empire, is used to controlling everything and everyone around him and seldom has a regret. However, he does with regard to the harsh lesson he’d decided to teach Marina months earlier, and he’s not thrilled to have her as an unwilling guest at his family’s cabin, which became his sanctuary as he recovered from injuries sustained during an attempt on his life.

Explosive and irresistible chemistry draws them together, but as strange accidents accelerate, they begin to fear that they might not be so alone in the snowy Vermont woods after all. When Pierre sends Marina away over a misunderstanding, he unknowingly puts her squarely into the path of the menace that continues to stalk his family. He rushes to her aid, but even if he makes it in time to protect her, he isn’t certain he’ll ever be able to convince her to forgive him—or that he doesn’t want to take the place of her lost love, but instead to build something new together.

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

Excerpt

“Don’t worry, Rina! You’re going to love Rémy’s family. His brothers and sister totally can’t wait to meet you! Also, you look amazing in that dress.” Annelise turned her head halfway to look behind them and Marina wondered what had caught her best friend’s attention in the quiet valet area of the sparkling-clean parking garage.

“In fact,” Annelise continued in a lower voice, “the back looks pretty freaking fantastic. Are you wearing those butt-boosting underwear things? Or have you been hitting the gym harder than usual?” A spark of mischief lit her eyes before she went on. “I don’t mean to be crass…” Annelise waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, I know I’ve got really nice ass!” Marina had to stifle an undignified snort-laugh as she finished one of their favorite sayings, trying to keep her voice down. “Annelise! Such language so close to the hallowed halls of the Mount Valder Club! I would expect that kind of comment from me, but from you?” Marina mock-chided, but Annelise’s light comment had cut the tension and her anxiety in half.

Annelise flushed pink. “Rémy says it isn’t as stuffy as its reputation would suggest.” She waved her hand dismissively, making the subtle mauve polish that Marina had painted onto her nails a couple of days earlier during a rare girls’ night flash in the soft lighting. “And anyway, it’s not like anyone is going to dare complain about us. Pierre fast-tracked membership for the whole family as soon as they decided to open a Gaspard Industries branch here in Boston, and we have the entire ballroom reserved just for our soiree tonight. All that must have cost, like, a squillion dollars.”

They fell into step together, linking arms by unspoken mutual consent as they headed toward the elevators.

Marina arched one eyebrow. “Look at you, huh? Engaged to a member of one of Canada’s most preeminent families—oh, and wealthiest and best-looking, too—for a little over a month and suddenly even the Mount Valder is small potatoes,” she teased, and Annelise’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of rose.

“Well, we have been going to a lot of parties—all kinds of parties. The lifestyle Rémy has—really, that they all have—to maintain is kind of crazy. And the events are all so fancy and exclusive and luxurious… I’m getting”—she paused thoughtfully as they stepped into the elevator—“not jaded, but definitely a little less impressed by everything than I used to be.”

Marina showed surprise. “Really? That’s saying something, Anna, for someone who literally plans fancy events for a living.”

Annelise shrugged a little sheepishly, the movement making her shimmery golden dress sparkle all around her. “It’s crazy, right? But I can see why Rémy avoided a lot of this for so long. I don’t know how Pierre does it. He’s in the spotlight the most of all of them, since he’s the CEO and everything.” Annelise leaned closer and Marina smelled the warm vanilla scent her best friend had always favored. “Honestly, I think all of Rémy’s siblings would prefer to be at home most nights, but there are such expectations… They don’t always have a choice.”

Annelise had hinted before at the fact that everything might not be as picture-perfect and easy as it seemed for Rémy’s fabulously wealthy and powerful family. Case in point, just a few months earlier, the Gaspard siblings had had a crazy ex-friend—also the ex-fiancé of Rémy’s sister—who’d ended up trying, repeatedly, to murder them. He was still awaiting trial.

“That does make sense,” Marina agreed, nodding slowly. She thought of how she and Annelise had been struggling over the past months to make time to get together even once every couple of weeks. Marina totally understood that Anna had been caught up in not only the intensity of a new romance but also in being introduced as a member of ‘the Gaspard family’. Marina wasn’t offended—of course I’m not—but she missed Annelise. Plus, not meeting her best friend for lunch or drinks as often anymore had made her own small studio apartment seem so much emptier.

That was part of what had made Annelise’s invitation to tonight’s party so important—so much so that Marina had gotten a little uncharacteristically nervous. It was a small, exclusive event only for close friends and contacts of the Gaspards and also an unofficial celebration of Rémy’s oldest brother, Pierre’s, expected reentry into society. Marina wasn’t sure what had been going on, and Annelise had been maddeningly vague, but Pierre had been letting everyone else shoulder the lion’s share of the family obligations for months while he mysteriously wasn’t around. Personally, her guess was that he had been hanging out on the family yacht off the coast of St. Tropez with a revolving door of supermodels. Whatever the reason, he was finally deigning to come back at tonight’s event.

At that thought, Marina’s previous anxiety started to ramp up again, but she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. I am smart, fun, beautiful and Annelise’s best friend, she reminded herself. This is for Anna, and if they don’t like me or think I’m good enough, it won’t be because I haven’t given it my damnedest. As though feeling her tension, Annelise squeezed her hand reassuringly as they walked toward the brightly lit ballroom with unmistakable party sounds coming from it, and Marina raised her chin with a confidence that she wasn’t sure she totally felt. It was showtime.

Two hours later, Marina was shocked to find that she was actually having fun. Clothilde, Annelise’s future sister-in-law, was kind, down-to-earth and had a wickedly sharp wit that made her feel like an instant friend, in spite of the fact that she looked like she should be on the cover of a high-fashion magazine. Actually, Marina seemed to recall that Clothilde had been on the cover of several women’s magazines in the past. Luc, who was Rémy’s younger brother, had flown in from Paris just for the event and he was absolutely charming, but in a genuine way. He was handsome, funny and his light flirtation had made her giggle and blush.

Still, so much dancing and socializing had worn her down a little bit, so when Rémy had asked Annelise to dance again for the umpteenth time that evening, leaving Marina alone for a moment, she had seized her chance to sneak away and rest her feet. Not that she was ungrateful—no, it gave her warm fuzzies to think of how attentive Rémy and his family had been to her all evening, obviously determined not to let her feel awkward or nervous for a second—but she was just a little overwhelmed. This was Annelise’s scene, not hers, and her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling as much as her feet were beginning to ache from spending too long in high heels.

She ducked into the dark hallway behind the ballroom and noticed that the rooms were labeled with the names of prominent Bostonians from the past. They looked like conference rooms, and she nearly sighed with relief. No one was likely to be having a conference at this time of the evening, so she could take a little break in peace to pull herself together again. She opened the first heavy, dark-wood door, which was surprisingly well-oiled and silent. Even with the lights out, she could make out the outlines of several chairs surrounding an enormous table. Definitely a conference room. Perfect.

She pulled the door closed behind her and let out a long sigh, stepping out of her shoes immediately and relishing the feel of the cool hardwood floor underneath her stockinged feet. If she were honest with herself, it wasn’t just the physical strain of the party she’d wanted to escape. It was also the brilliant, effervescent happiness and love that she had felt radiating from Annelise and Rémy. She was overjoyed for her best friend—absolutely, I am—but here in the darkness, alone, she could admit that she was envious, too. The hole that remained in her soul, the slash of pain whenever she remembered the beautiful, wonderful man she’d loved and with whom she’d planned an entire lifetime of happiness, ached and throbbed more than any physical wound ever could. Oh, Jaime.

She could picture his face vividly, although now, after so much time, she hated that he was starting to look more and more like the pictures she had of him and less like the man in her memories. He had been young—so incredibly young. She’d been cheated by a stray bullet, friendly fire during a skirmish, out of knowing what he would look like any older than twenty-one. What would he have looked like if he were as old as the woman she saw in her own reflection these days? Would he even recognize her, dancing in a ballroom with multiple men in tailored suits, sipping champagne and eating foie-gras and caviar canapes from silver platters, offered by tastefully dressed and silent waitstaff? Joking and flirting with Annelise’s future brother-in-law as well as several of the other charming older men who were friends of Rémy’s family?

That was the crux of her tiredness…the reason she’d needed to escape. What the hell was she doing, enjoying herself like this when Jaime was cold and buried in the Virginia ground, still wearing his dress blues? And when she’d sent him away the way she had… But she refused to even start to think about that tonight. She tried not to cry anymore, and most days, she succeeded. But this evening, watching Annelise with her fiancé, wrapped up in his love at every moment, had made Marina feel fragile all over again. As if Jaime’s loss were closer tonight, somehow.

She felt for and made contact with the closest chair, planning to sink down onto it.

“Unless you want to find yourself on my lap—which I’m not opposed to, mind you—you’d better choose another seat, chérie.”

Marina yelped and leapt away, her heart pounding up into her throat. The man’s voice had been deep, raspy and amused, and she might have found it sexy under other circumstances. However, alone in a dark conference room behind doors that had looked extremely thick was not the right circumstance for anything but terror.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came in?” she finally managed to ask, wincing at the accusation in her tone. She heard a rustle and could almost feel his shrug.

“I hoped that you would leave quickly, and I didn’t want to startle you,” he answered simply.

His answer made sense, but Marina was irrationally annoyed. “What are you doing in here, anyway? Who would leave a party to come sit in the dark?”

His chuckle was dry, and goosebumps raised on her arms. “Who indeed?”

She pursed her lips. “Touché,” she acknowledged.

“I’ll reveal some of my demons if you show me yours.” His tone was mocking as he echoed the childish dare. She couldn’t help the way her pulse quickened, as though he were offering to show her something illicit.

“No thank you.” She winced at how prim her tone was, but the stranger’s amused chuckle rolled through the small room.

“I didn’t think you would, but I hoped…” He trailed off meaningfully.

“I’m going to sit down in, uh, another chair,” she announced, trying to change the subject. “My feet are killing me from so much dancing.”

“Be my guest, chérie. Seat yourself anywhere you desire.” Again, his rough voice made his words sound like innuendo. She sank down onto the chair one over from his. “I can imagine your lovely feet must throb from those beautiful yet completely impractical shoes you wore earlier. I could rub them, if you’d like?”

“What? Of course not!” Marina gasped, actually shocked at his audacity. “You can’t just…offer to massage a complete stranger!”

“Good point,” he answered in a reasonable tone. “Tell me a few things about yourself so I can offer again.”

She laughed in spite of herself.

His chair creaked as he leaned forward. She could make out his silhouette now that her eyes had adjusted, and from his frame, he looked to be very tall and muscular. A dark, spicy scent teased her nose, masculine and exotic.

“Here’s an easy question. Why did you leave the party? The Gaspards always throw the best… It’s expected.”

It might have been the shroud of darkness that caused her to pay such close attention to his voice, or maybe she was just attuned to him, but there was a curious tension in his tone.

“Apart from my feet starting to ache? I…had to get away from all the happiness for a bit. My best friend is engaged to one of the Gaspards—Rémy—and they’re blissfully in love.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Marina couldn’t believe she’d actually said them out loud—and to a near-stranger no less.

The man made a sound of understanding. “Ah, of course. And you love him, too?” There was a resigned sadness in his voice.

“What? No!” Marina denied instantly. “I mean, he’s great, and wonderful for Annelise, wonderful to her, but…no. I just—” She trailed off, not wanting to tell him about Jaime, not wanting to sound like the totally bitchy, selfish friend she knew she was being.

“You don’t like the Gaspards, then? It is common. They are notorious as well as famous.”

Marina noticed the stranger’s accent more on those words. He was obviously one of the French-Canadian guests, which wasn’t surprising, since they made up the majority of the party.

“I like the Gaspards. Or, at least, I think Rémy is awesome, and even though I just met his brother and sister, Luc and Clothilde, tonight, they seem great too. I’m not sure about the older brother, Pierre. I hear he can be a cold bastard.” She gasped again as she realized she’d been bashing one of the Gaspards to someone who was probably friends with all of them. “I mean, that’s the rumor, but…like I said, I’ve never met him, so I don’t really know,” she finished lamely.

Luckily, her companion didn’t seem offended. “The rumors are correct. Pierre Gaspard can be utterly ruthless when it comes to his siblings and their associates.”

Marina was so relieved that she didn’t pick up on a subtle warning in his tone.

“What matters is that your friend is happy, though, is it not? She must love the lifestyle her fiancé can provide for her.”

“Yes, she does. It’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it? And Annelise is the princess. She always loved pretending we were in a fairy tale when we were kids. I mean, nothing is perfect.” Marina thought of how Annelise had admitted that the lifestyle of being a Gaspard was filled with obligations. “But I’m sure they won’t be so busy handling so many public appearances and duties once Pierre gets back from wherever he’s been. Annelise and Rémy just want a little more time to enjoy each other.” She broke off suddenly, embarrassed again at how much she’d revealed. God, Annelise was going to kill her. She’d been babbling away into the darkness, and she knew part of it was nervousness, but also…the stranger just felt so easy to talk to.

“Ah, yes, the roaming Pierre. Tell me… What do Annelise and Rémy have to say about his whereabouts?” The question was probing. Marina ignored her growing sense of unease, which was buried by her curiosity. Maybe this stranger, who must be close to the Gaspard family, could finally give her more information about where the hell the oldest Gaspard brother had been.

“That’s the weird part. They don’t really have anything to say, but…I think they’re covering for something.”

“Oh yes?” her companion prompted gently.

Marina nodded, even though she knew her mysterious fellow guest would barely be able to see the gesture. “I suppose it could be something like he’s been sick—or maybe he’s an alcoholic or drug addict in rehab,” she speculated, really warming to the topic. “But my best guess is that he’s been living it up on one of their yachts, hooking up with supermodels and too busy partying to take care of his responsibilities.”

There was a long silence that stretched uncomfortably in the darkened room.

“Ms. Lopez,” he began, and Marina felt herself go cold at his use of her name, “I realize that you are new to this world and this level of society, and I am willing to make concessions to your ignorance. However, even you should be aware that as someone closely connected to my future sister-in-law, what you say might very well reflect back on my family.”

Marina felt like she was back in her family’s cozy little home, eight years old again, and being lectured by her nana, who’d just told her that she was disappointed and had expected better of her young granddaughter. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“You should know better,” the stranger continued, “than to speculate on where I have been and what I have been doing. If you can’t control your tongue and prevent it from gossiping, I will be forced to take countermeasures. Do you think you can manage never to gossip about my family again, especially to a stranger who very well could have been a reporter who’d be only too happy to print your comments as truth?”

Marina felt sick as the realization of who the stranger was dawned on her. The flighty, rich playboy she’d been talking about didn’t seem to be very flighty at all, and he was sitting right next to her.

“I apologize for my comments,” she said, feeling the heat of a blush creep up into her cheeks and continuing all the way out to her chest and even her arms. “I don’t normally speculate so much or say things like that to strangers, but… There’s no excuse. I didn’t think of the implications. I will be more careful in the future.”

Pierre rose, even taller and more imposing than she’d realized.

“I hope that you will.” His voice grew colder as he leaned over her chair. “I will do anything…anything at all…to protect my family’s reputation.” Marina thought he was finished, but he continued, surprising her. “Not because it is so precious to me, personally, but because it affects the welfare of thousands of employees who depend on us—on me—and who could be harmed by negative rumors.”

“I understand,” Marina answered, and she realized that she did. While she had focused on how much fun it must be to have so much wealth and power, their company and influence must also be a burden to manage.

“Good.” The word was clipped, and he sounded…disappointed? “Now, will you allow me to escort you to your vehicle?”

Dios, Marina thought. I’m being kicked out politely but firmly. If I don’t leave, is he going to call a bouncer? Does a social club even have bouncers, or does he bring his own? She stiffened her spine and rose with as much pride as she could muster while barefoot in a dark room.

“No, thank you. I can find my own way, Monsieur Gaspard.” She slipped her shoes back on at the door and made an intensely dignified exit.

As the door closed behind her, she thought she heard him whisper, “Too bad.”

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About the Author

Aurora Russell

Aurora is originally from the frozen tundra of the upper-Midwest (ok, not frozen all the time!) but now loves living in New England with her real-life hero/husband, two wonderfully silly sons, and one of the most extraordinary cats she has ever had the pleasure to meet. But she still goes back to the Midwest to visit, just never in January.

She doesn’t remember a time that she didn’t love to read, and has been writing stories since she learned how to hold a pencil. She has always liked the romantic scenes best in every book, story, and movie, so one day she decided to try her hand at writing her own romantic fiction, which changed her life in all the best ways.

You can find out more about Aurora at her website here.

Giveaway

Enter to win a fabulous gift package and get a First For Romance Gift Card!

Aurora Russell Snowbound with the Billionaire Giveaway

AURORA RUSSELL IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND  GET A FREE EBOOK FROM THE AUTHOR! Notice: This competition ends on 6TH April 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Splinters of the Heart by Alyssa Rabil

General Release Date: 16th March 2021

Word Count:  83,220
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 349

Genres:

CONTEMPORARY
GAY
GLBTQI
ROMANCE

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Book Description

Love finds a way.

Aaron Beaumont is a mess. Life has never been easy, so why did he think bondage would help? While he solved the problem of making some quick money, it came at a price he wasn’t willing to pay. To his great relief, he’s rescued by Silas Anderson. Silas, a doctor, takes him home and treats his physical injuries, but his gentle touch and reassurance can’t touch Aaron’s internal turmoil.

When Aaron tries to return home the next morning, the worst has come to pass. He suddenly finds himself with nowhere to go. Once again, his world collides with Silas’.

With the future uncertain, a friendship blossoms into something neither Aaron nor Silas has experienced before, and they know it’s something they may never experience again.

However, happiness is just out of reach, and before they have a happily ever after, they must face a demon from the past.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of verbal and physical abuse, consensual pain, parental abuse, drug use, homophobic language, mentions of anxiety, suicide and drug dealing.

Excerpt

Aaron sat on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap. The man behind the camera clicked something and a red light blinked to life.

“Shy?” asked the man.

“Cold,” answered Aaron.

“Shy plays better for the camera,” said the man. “But I can also work with stubborn denial.” There was that smirk again. “Introduce yourself.”

“Aaron. Do you need my last name?”

The man rolled his eyes. “No. And you’ve ruined the take.” He took a breath. “Introduce yourself.”

“Aaron.”

“Good boy. I’m Farley. Your Dom will be in shortly. You will call him ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’.”

“Okay.” Aaron shifted on the bed. He wanted to move his hands—make a point and prove he wasn’t afraid—but that would probably just earn more snide comments from Farley. He didn’t like being the only one naked. Then again, he wasn’t sure how much better it would be once the other naked guy joined them.

Will he be naked? Aaron wondered. Please be naked. Or don’t. Maybe he won’t show up.

It wasn’t too late to run. He hadn’t signed a contract or anything. The money was still in a bag in the corner of the room. He could bail at any time.

“Why are you here?” asked Farley. He nodded to the camera.

Aaron wasn’t sure where to look. He settled on Farley, who rolled his eyes. “I need the money,” he answered.

“Is this your first time doing porn?”

“Yeah.” Aaron glanced at the camera. “I mean—I’ve been filmed before, but—”

“Shut up.” Farley held a marker up to the lens. “I’ll cut that out later. Don’t elaborate.”

Aaron sighed. He could leave, drive home as fast as possible, take a long hot shower and forget this ever happened.

“Are you gay?”

“No,” answered Aaron.

“Then what brought you here?” asked Farley.

“Money,” answered Aaron.

Farley held another marker up to the lens. “Is it even remotely possible for you to look less like an angry mountain gorilla and more like a virginal twink?” he asked. “I understand your IQ may only extend to that of a mountain gorilla, but surely you can follow basic instructions.”

Aaron glared. “What’s a twink?”

“Christ,” said Farley. “Fine. Never mind.” He paused again. “Why do you need the money?”

“Uh—” began Aaron. “It’s—that’s personal.”

“Girlfriend?” asked Farley.

“No,” answered Aaron.

“Just say it’s for your girlfriend.”

“It’s for my girlfriend.”

Farley rolled his eyes. “Ever sucked a cock before, Aaron?”

“No.”

“Ever thought about sucking a cock before?”

Aaron glanced between Farley and the camera. “Yes.”

“Tell me about that.”

“It—it was a long time ago.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I got curious back in high school,” answered Aaron. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Man of few words,” said Farley. “That’s fine. You won’t need to do much talking today. Ever thought about having a cock in your ass?”

“I guess.”

“Any idea what you’re in for?”

“I googled some stuff.” Aaron had spent the entire week leading up to today scouring the internet for advice. He’d taken seven showers in the past three days and hadn’t eaten for two days. He’d told himself he was just being thorough—that it wasn’t because he’d lost his appetite or because he’d felt dirty after hanging up the phone to confirm the meeting. He’d told himself it was just sex. Men liked sex. Sex wasn’t a big deal.

Farley pulled a sheet of paper from the desk behind him. “Do you know what makes my business such a special production company?”

“Your warm and fuzzy personality?”

Farley grinned as he looked down. “Authenticity,” he said. “Everything is consensual, of course. Men like you come in for whatever reason—overcompensating for their nerves with masculine bravado—but they don’t leave until all parties have been thoroughly satisfied.”

“Yeah, you need a money shot,” said Aaron. “You said that in the email.” He’d found these guys online. The ad had been vague, but had promised a shitload of money for two hours’ worth of work. Aaron had emailed them, called them, then showed up in person. Farley had even flashed him the money before Aaron took his clothes off. It wasn’t a high-class setup by any means, but it was about what he’d expected from a vague ‘call for adult actors’. He probably should have told someone where he was in case things went south—but then someone would know he was here doing this.

“No fake orgasms,” continued Farley. “Our audience likes to know what you’re feeling is real.”

“Okay,” said Aaron.

“Your safe word for this Dom is ‘grace’. Use it wisely. If things are not going well, I’ll switch out for someone I think will be more successful.”

Aaron nodded. He felt a little nauseated and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You read my mind,” said Farley. He crossed the room and tossed Aaron a piece of fabric. “Tie that tight over your eyes, and no peeking.”

Aaron bit his lip, but did as he was told. “Like this?” Suddenly something soft hit him in the face. “What the hell?” he shouted. He fumbled with what felt suspiciously like a pillow and threw it away from him.

“Just making sure you can’t see.”

“Dammit,” muttered Aaron. He heard the door open. He heard Farley return to his position by the camera and heard another set of footsteps approach the bed.

It’s not too late. Fuck this and go home. No one has to know I was here. I can find the money somewhere else.

“Hello, Aaron,” said a deep voice. A firm, calloused hand ran through his hair. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” asked the man—Master.

“No,” breathed Aaron.

Farley coughed.

“No, Sir,” corrected Aaron. He could feel his body shaking, but he told himself he was just playing along. Farley had told him to be a virginal twig or twing or something. He was acting. He wasn’t scared.

Master thumbed over Aaron’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he said. Aaron obeyed.

Master nudged his leg between Aaron’s knees, forcing his legs open. “Hands behind your back,” he said.

Again, he obeyed.

Run. It’s not worth it. Sell a kidney. Sell sperm to a rich lady. Learn to juggle and join a circus.

Something warm and wet touched Aaron’s lips and he jumped. Master ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair again, and pulled him back. A kiss. The Dom was kissing him. He trailed a line of kisses to Aaron’s ear.

“Are you all right?” whispered the Dom.

Aaron leaned his face away from Farley and the camera. “Yeah,” he answered. “Sorry.”

Nerves.”

“Let me know when you feel uncomfortable,” he whispered. He nibbled at Aaron’s neck.

“Safe word is ‘grace’, right?” asked Aaron.

“Right.” Master kissed Aaron again and breathed against his lips. “I promise, I won’t hurt you.” He stood up, fingers once again entangled in Aaron’s hair. “Open wide,” he said.

Aaron did as he was told, and this time he was about ninety percent sure the thing he tasted was a dick. A quick thrust from the Dom confirmed his suspicions. Master was slow at first, keeping his movements steady and shallow. One hand had a vise-like grip on Aaron’s hair while the other caressed his cheek.

Considering the many awful ways this decision could come back to destroy him, Aaron was surprisingly relaxed.

Suck him off. Then you get off. Then you go home. It’s not that bad. Just an hour and a half more to go.

Suddenly, Farley snapped something. “Cut,” he said.

Master pulled away from Aaron. “What could possibly be the problem? You’ve been rolling for under a minute.”

“His sad little deflated cock is the problem,” said Farley. “No one wants to see that.”

“Give him some time,” said the Dom. “He’s nervous.”

“Sorry,” said Aaron, sensing his paycheck might be on the line. “I can get hard.” He gripped his dick in his hand and gave it his best shot.

They’re watching me. Get hard. Get off. Get paid. Get out. Get the money to Daniel.

Aaron felt nauseous again. If his little brother had any idea where this money was coming from, he’d probably never speak to Aaron again.

If Dad knew—

If Robert Beaumont knew, he’d make sure Aaron never saw Daniel again. “This is pathetic,” said Farley.

“Let me try,” said the Dom. “Aaron, lie on your back.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Farley.

“This is a lot to take in,” said Master. “We need to ease him into it.”

“I don’t want to waste your time,” said Aaron. “I can do this.”

“And yet here you are, wasting my time,” said Farley. He sighed. “Silas, give us a moment, won’t you?”

“No. We can figure— Who are you calling?” asked Master.

Farley must have picked up the phone. He shushed the Dom. “Send in Regina. She has the edging equipment. Tell her we need Ralph.”

“This isn’t an edging scene,” said Master.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” said Farley. “Regina knows what she’s doing. Now get out.”

Master ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair again. It was pleasant, but it didn’t stop Aaron from trembling.

“I can do this,” mumbled Aaron.

Master untied Aaron’s blindfold and knelt down between his knees. He placed a hand on Aaron’s thigh and rubbed small circles into the muscles with his thumbs. Master was also naked. He had dark, messy hair. His eyes were icy blue and beautiful. He was beautiful.

“This line of work isn’t for everyone,” said Master. “There is no shame in leaving if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No,” said Aaron. “I can do it.”

“For God’s sake,” said Farley, “get up. I should have paired him with Ralph in the first place.”

“Don’t put him with Ralph. He’s too rough,” said the Dom.

Farley rolled his eyes. “You can’t fall for some doe-eyed little virgin.”

“I told you we shouldn’t work with amateurs,” said Master. “It’s too risky.”

Farley muttered something that sounded like ‘savior complex’ and put his phone into his pocket. “New rule,” he said. “Every time you hold up a scene to have a little heart-to-heart with the actors, I’m taking a nickel from your paycheck.”

“That’s not fair,” said Aaron.

“Ignore him,” said the Dom. “He has to be petty to stay alive, the same way a shark must keep swimming.”

The door opened. A woman entered carrying a large duffle bag. A tall man with a scruffy beard followed her.

“The cavalry has arrived,” said Farley. “Silas, leave.”

“No, I—”

“You want to cost this young man his money?” asked Farley. “He needs someone more forceful.”

“Then why partner him with me in the first place?” asked Master.

“I was being kind,” snapped Farley.

Master turned back to Aaron. He looked scared. “You can still say no.”

“Leave now, or you’re fired,” said Farley.

“Go,” said Aaron. “I’ve got this.” He tried to force a smile. Master searched his eyes.

“How about this,” said Farley. “You can stay and slow down production and make sure we don’t hurt this precious boy, and I’ll just cut his pay in half and you won’t get paid at all for today.”

“No,” said Aaron quickly. He shoved the Dom away. “Leave. I know what I’m doing.”

Master got to his feet and stepped back.

“Go,” said Aaron. No contract. No witnesses. Of course these guys could cut his pay. He wasn’t exactly a member of the amateur porn worker’s union.

Master clenched his jaw. He turned, jabbed a finger at the new man in the room and whispered something.

The man ignored him. Master left, slamming the door behind him.

“Lock it,” said Farley. He turned to Aaron. “Sorry about all that. You weren’t what I expected. Normally a two-hour shoot only takes two hours.”

Aaron glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s only been forty-five minutes,” he said.

“And of those forty-five, I only have three usable minutes, and those are all your bumbling interview.”

Shit.

“So how much longer?” asked Aaron.

Farley glanced at his watch. “Two hours. Maybe less. Don’t worry. Ralph is very good.”

The new man, presumably Ralph, approached Aaron. “Do you want this done fast or do you want to enjoy it?” he asked.

“How fast is fast?” answered Aaron.

“Two hours. Maybe less.” The man echoed Farley.

“What if I want to enjoy it?” asked Aaron.

“No guarantee that you will.”

Aaron took a deep breath. “Fast,” he said.

“Good. I’m your new Dom. Call me ‘Sir’. You’re allowed to talk, but you must show me respect or you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yeah,” answered Aaron.

Ralph grabbed him by his hair, flipped him onto his stomach and slammed his face into the mattress. He slapped Aaron’s ass so hard, he was sure it had left a welt.

“Son of a bitch,” shouted Aaron. “Yes, sir. Fuck.”

Ralph hit him again, harder.

“God dammit,” said Aaron. “What did I—”

Ralph hit him again.

Aaron bit his tongue. After a moment of silence, Ralph pulled Aaron’s face out of the mattress. “Do you know what you did wrong?” he asked.

“Yes—sir,” said Aaron.

“You are worthless. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

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Alyssa Rabil

Alyssa has always had a love for fiction. She read her first romance novel from her mother’s collection. Her first love story was about a tiger that fell in love with a zebra.

Alyssa lives in a wild west with her cats. She loves cooking and writing. Follow Alyssa on Facebook and Twitter.

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The Billionaire and the Princess
by Katherine E. Hunt

Book 1 in the Sag Harbor series

General Release Date: 16th March 2021

Word Count: 60,151
Pages: 238
Book Length: Super Novel
Heat Rating: Sizzling
Sexometer: 2

Genres:

BILLIONAIRE
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
ROYALS

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Book Description

When a British journalist gets her dream job in The Hamptons, she doesn’t expect to find her dream man too.

All Caitlyn has to do is catch a plane, move to Sag Harbor and start her new job as editor of a brand-new society magazine. That’s what she’s promised herself. No more Mr. Wrong, no more pandering to everybody else’s needs. New life, new Caitlyn.

So when she meets a handsome gentleman on the plane, after a couple of drinks, she’s going to walk away, right? She’s certainly not going to try to join the mile-high club with him.

If it turns out he’s her new boss, Hank Baresi, the youngest son of one of the biggest media moguls in America, but no matter, he doesn’t appear to remember her, anyway.

She’s just going to do her job. No serenading him. No succumbing to his sweet charms and absolutely no falling in love with him.

And, well, if he happens to fall in love with her, she’s just going to say no, right?

Excerpt

There is no excuse for this kind of behavior. I’ve promised, sworn and vowed never to fall for a bad guy again. Take some time out, I told myself, learn the real Caitlyn, love yourself before you love others. Why, oh why, then, am I half-naked in an airplane bathroom with a frickin’ drunken, horny cowboy? Why indeed? He’s hot, there’s that, like six-foot-two hot. You know what I’m talking about. The type of guy that makes you catch your breath when he brushes past you, hair a little unkempt, jaw a little too sharp.

In my defense, I’ve had a very strange year and, frankly, life’s gotten really, really complicated. Then there’s the free alcohol, first time in Business Class… It’s all gone to my head. I might be forgiven for getting carried away. But still, no excuse, Caitlyn, no excuse.

He traces a solitary finger down the outside of my thigh—my leggings hang off one ankle, dragging on the floor. My other foot, placed firmly on the closed toilet seat, is the only thing holding me up.

I lift my hair, curl it up on my head with my hands, soft lips brush against my neck. “You’re so freaking hot,” he slurs.

At first, I’d thought he had a Texan drawl until he’d confessed, giggling as the words came out, that he’d stolen the cowboy hat from the guy in the next seat down.

He’s not Southern—he’s just drunk off his head.

He brushes his fingers up my spine, circling the crux of my neck before gliding over my breasts, past the tips of my nipples, until they stop at the slick gusset of my undies. Fuck. For a man who smells like a brewery and has lost the capacity for coherent speech, he’s pretty deft with his hands.

Pressing tightly onto my pussy, like it’s the only thing holding us up, he fumbles with his trousers, pulling at his belt.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask.

“Uh…shi-it. Maybe?” He tries to grab his wallet with his one free hand and we rock back and forth as he tugs at his pocket.

Is this really happening? It was all going smoothly. Steamy, unexpected, drunken smooch in the corridor, unilateral decision to glide into the bathroom. Semi-naked foreplay.

It’s all so serious, all of a sudden. Sex with a stranger. That’s a sobering thought. Is this how I want to start my new life? It isn’t part of the plan, that’s for sure.

I’ve never done anything like this. I’m not an angel, but I’ve always been the wait a few days, get to know the guy kind of girl. Admittedly, they’d all turned out to be Mr. Emotionally Unavailable, Mr. Terrified of Commitment or Mr. Sleeps with Your Friends Plural Behind Your Back, but hey, I’d always kept my side of the bargain.

His fumbles prove fruitless. He takes his hand off me to grab his wallet, falls backward, slams hard into the door and slides to the ground. Turns out I was holding him up after all.

I spin around. “You okay?” He doesn’t have any visible injuries, but he’s a tall man in a small space and his knees are around his ears. He still looks cute though. God, I need to get laid. My horny is showing.

“Oh shit!” He says it way too loud. Fuck, he’s going to get us caught. I’m not sure what the punishment is for kinky stuff in airplane bathrooms, but I know I don’t want to start my brand-new life in America in an orange jumpsuit.

“Shh,” I whisper, placing my finger over my lips.

“Shh. Hee-hee.” That giggle again. He’s wasted–like, actually out of it. This is rapidly turning into a very bad idea, not that at any point sneaking around with a man I’ve just met had been a solid choice. Kissing him? That had been fun, but now it feels a little like taking advantage.

He flicks through his wallet, still sat, half on the floor, legs splayed either side of me. “Shit. I got nothing.”

I lean down and put my arms around him. He nuzzles into my neck. God, he smells delicious. Whoever he is when he isn’t half-naked and hammered, he has incredible taste in aftershave. “Let’s get you up.”

“Wheeee!” With one hefty yank, he’s on his feet. The effort sends my back crashing against the toilet roll dispenser. It’s like getting a devastatingly handsome, six-foot-two, curly haired, horny octopus to stand to attention. Impossible.

Stepping back to steady myself, I hear a crack. Shit. Hopefully, his phone isn’t super important because it has just smashed into a million pieces under my foot. I kick it out of sight, sit him down on the toilet seat and pull my leggings back up. My libido is fading. Fast.

I pull up my leggings and put my top back on. “You don’t wanna do it anymore?” he drawls, his face downcast.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you?” He can’t even stand up for a start. God knows whether he can get anything else up.

“You’re hot.” He snakes his hands up my sweatshirt.

“Thank you. You’re very, very drunk.” I fasten his belt for him, inciting more giggles, and hand him his wallet, which had flown into the sink. “I think I’m going to go back to my seat. It was very nice meeting you, cowboy. Maybe we’ll meet again someday in better circumstances.” I might sound like I’m fobbing him off, but some part of me sort of wishes it’s true. I most definitely shouldn’t. The type of guy who allows himself to get in this much of a state is not boyfriend material. Not for me, anyway. But he’s a sweetie, and he’s cute when he giggles.

Oh, Caitlyn, you’re such a damn pushover.

* * * *

The old lady in the seat next to mine looks very concerned. “Did you hear all that noise in the toilet?”

“Yes. Apparently, some drunk guy fell over.”

“Oh dear.” She cringes. “Some people do get carried away with the free drinks on these flights. I hope he’s all right.” She’s been reading a guidebook on New York for the last four hours and hasn’t even acknowledged my presence, but now that I’ve got gossip, she’s all ears.

“I’m sure he’s fine. So where are you flying to today?”

She closes her book and looks at me. “New York.” Her eyes widen with excitement. Bless her. She has to be at the very least in her seventies. I see a little of myself in her, always excited by new experiences, no matter how old I get. That’s the only way to live.

“Well, yes. I meant for business or pleasure.”

“I’m going to see my son. He’s got a fancy job in Manhattan, going to show me the sights.” She curls her lips into the biggest grin.

“Oh, that’s lovely.”

Something loud crashes behind us. “Oh dear,” she mutters. “What now?”

A flash of white comes racing past our seats. A butt. A very naked butt attached to a very handsome, drunken, giggly cowboy.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him to his own devices after all. He turns and waves his not-insignificant appendage at a room full of dozing passengers before a hand reaches through the curtain behind him and pulls his drunken, naked butt into First Class.

“Good lord,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen one like that since my Henry was alive.”

I turn to her and smile, hiding my deep regret at my rash decision not to get cowboy’s number before I’d left him. “Lucky you,” I reply.

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About the Author

Katherine E Hunt

Katherine E Hunt ran off with a Frenchman twenty years ago. She now lives on a French mountain with three children and two dogs. When she isn’t writing contemporary romance she can be found huddled up in front of a roaring fire, with a glass of Chardonnay in one hand and a book in the other.

You can find out more about Katherine on her website.

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Claw by Ellen Mint

Book 1 in the Coven of Desire series

General Release Date: 16th March 2021

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
PARANORMAL
REVERSE HAREM

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Book Description

He’s not your typical werewolf-next-door.

Layla hadn’t counted on a sex demon appearing in her living room. Nor did she expect to find she’s a witch, tasked with protecting the mortal realm. And now her friend, fellow nursing student and impossible crush could be a potential killer?

She’s silently lusted after Cal for a year, knowing a guy that hot, sweet and kind wouldn’t look twice at her. All their flirting was innocent and went nowhere, until Ink—the incubus bound to her—ran into her life and bed. Next thing she knows, Cal’s growling at her while Ink flirts, and women are being ripped apart by wild animals. Couldn’t the murder monster mystery wait until after finals?

She wanted to be a nurse, not a paranormal investigator, but Layla has no choice. Apparently only witches can stop these creatures that she didn’t even know existed a month ago. But the deeper she digs, the more it looks like Cal’s deep in the middle of it all. How can she save her friend from the claws of a cult, keep her sex-craved demon happy and find a way to let both into her heart and bed?

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, peril, near death, blood and gore, and on-page death. There are references to a cult and inadequate parenting.

Author’s note: Everyone who buys a copy of Claw will receive the short story Retail Hell free. Set between the events of Ink and Claw in the Coven of Desire series, Layla’s workday from hell is interrupted by her personal sex demon. 

Excerpt

An edge exists between the living and the dead, the celestial plane and the mortal realm, reality and its reflection. Upon that sliver of existence is where the witch—

“Damn it!” I gasped, nearly sending the book flying from the rash of tickles prickling across my stomach. “Ink…”

Breath hotter than brimstone twisted against the back of my ear as two hands caressed down my sides. I bit my lip, the ticklish nerves transforming to a different tremble. He pressed the full breadth of his palm to my jittery belly, working his way under the Bellpeppers uniform top.

Two weeks ago, I would have returned from work, tossed away my pants and fallen to the floor to dig into my nursing homework without a second’s pause. Having a personal incubus forever lurking at my elbow was going to take some getting used to, however. Ink’s attentions grew in fervor, the man slipping his fingers under my panties. He brushed back my hair with his other hand so he could place a kiss to my neck.

“I thought I was supposed to be studying,” I said even while losing to his demonic sway.

He grazed his teeth along my throat. “That’s not what you truly desire.”

Coming off a ten-hour night shift hauling cargo for the Friendliest Big Box store in the Midwest, I’d thought I’d only desired a quick meal and sleep. But my attempt at microwaving ramen had been foiled by the spell book left sitting on the kitchen table. It had demanded my attention like an obstinate cat about to break a vase if it didn’t get what it wanted.

A yawn rounded around my mouth, aching for its release, when Ink dove his coy fingers right to my clit. Holy shit! My body was wide awake now.

“Why don’t you sleep on me?” he said, tipping back onto the living room floor and splaying me on top of him.

All the while, he continued tantalizing my clit with a speed usually reserved for a ‘neck massager.’ I ramped up to orgasm in record time, Ink arching his hips against my lower back to press his monolith erection on me.

Breath sputtered from my lips, my exhausted body springing to life as I ground against him. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me witchcraft?”

“Interesting,” Ink mused in his melodic baritone. “You desire me in a tweed jacket and…carrying a yardstick?”

The flittering thought of Ink as the strict professor having to punish his one student crashed into a pool of guilt. I kept forgetting he could read my every desire, no matter how minute, the second it popped into my head. And he was more than happy to lean into the depravity.

“Tell me, Ms. Leeland.” He startled me from my inner turmoil. “What is the counter-ward for the acidic saliva of a manticore?”

“A…a pentagram with—”

“Wrong!” Ink shouted and slapped my inner thigh. It wasn’t hard, but loud enough that I jumped in shock. Ink didn’t remove his palm, but strained my leg to the breaking point while he caressed and threatened another slap up and down my inner thigh.

“What is the plant that ensures the dead stay six feet under?”

My brain sputtered smoke. I had read something about plants. But then there were all the pharmaceutical questions I’d studied for my real job. Witch hazel? Belladonna? Quinine? Foxglove? Pacific Yew?

“We need an answer, Ms. Leeland,” Ink ordered, his voice crackling with a growl as he traced his nails up and down my skin.

“Periwinkle?”

He cupped my chin in his hand, twisting it until I caught his eyes. Flames danced in his irises, and his lips nearly pressed to my cheek. “Nice try, but very wrong.”

“Holy fuck!”

With demonic speed, he parted my legs using just his knees and thrust his cock inside me. With one hand, he pinned my hip back against his body so I could feel every thrust from his pelvis cradling my ass. Roughing out of my hair, Ink reached up to grab my hand and pinned me by my wrist.

“Shall we play a new game?” he asked. My body strained at the breaking point, balanced upon the demon dick inside me. Thunderous energy pounded in waves from my heart up to my throat, leaving me clenching my bare toes into the rug while Ink pressed on both of my thighs.

“What…what game?” I gulped, the blood pooling in my head and nether regions with alarming speed. If this lasted any longer, I was liable to pass out…or worse.

Ink brushed the length of his sharp nose from the hollow of my jaw up to my ear. “For every answer you get right, you receive a thrust of eternal bliss.”

Fuck. I squirmed in anticipation, flexing my fingers inside his grip. But the fact that I’d barely had two seconds to do more than crack open my spell book in days cooled my blood. “And if I get it wrong?”

He released a rumble loud enough to be heard at the end of days. “You shall see,” was Ink’s response and he drew a single nail across my thigh. “What is—?”

The first five bars of White Wolves of Winter blared from behind me. Without a second’s thought, I snaked my hand from Ink’s fading grip and grabbed my phone. It took a moment for me to read it, fuzz blanketing my brain.

Dana was calling.

“Oh shit!” I shouted. In one deft move, I rolled off Ink to my knees. “I completely forgot.” I kept narrating while cramming back on my shitty dark gray jeans. What else did I need? Book bag? Did I load it last night before work?

Of course I didn’t. I never plan ahead.

While shoving my mass of books worth the cost of a used car into a flimsy messenger bag, I glanced at the man left lying on my rug. Black hair thicker than a bear’s lay in curly waves surrounding his head. A treasure trove of the same caressed down the dangerous muscles of his body, but parted at the monstrous erection prodding free.

Ink wore nothing but a smile when he wandered around my place, no doubt much to the delight of the random saleslady who’d dropped her catalogs for seventy-dollar micro-cloths and run for the hills when he answered the door.

Tearing my eyes off the man ready to pound me to heaven wasn’t easy. “I have a study date… With Dana and Fariah.”

Curling a hand under his high cheekbone, Ink twisted onto his side to watch me. I kept dashing about the apartment, trying to not glance at his ass. Do not give in to the bubble, Layla. This is important.

“We have a test coming up,” I kept explaining as if Ink was my keeper, but he wafted a hand through the air like a Roman emperor dismissing a servant.

“Yes, yes, go on to your university issue.”

I clung white-knuckled to my backpack. Despite him being an incubus, a literal sex demon that gained energy by fucking, the second I needed to get away he let me go. No questions. No complaints.

If I had any lingering doubts that he could be a human, the sight of him with a giant erection—nearly at the point of no return—and not a single challenge to my exit proved that was impossible. Fisting my keys between my fingers out of habit, I turned to the door.

“What will you do?” I began, my gut boiling as I spun back to the man with a sequoia in his lack-of-pants. “While I’m gone, I mean?”

That delectable and devious smile returned. Ink hopped to his feet, his hands grazing the carpet before he rose to stand before me. The flames had doused in his eyes, leaving only the amber shine behind. “I will wait for you.”

A blush burned on my cheeks and I felt like a teenager who just had the hottest guy in school look at her from across the cafeteria. Why did I even think that he’d…? Never mind. Shaking my head, I undid the lock on my apartment and moved to slip out without anyone peeking in.

“My bond,” Ink called to me. He stared me straight in the eye and curled a hand around his cock. “When you return, the game will resume.”

Fuck! Blushing so hard that my black hair turned red, I ran from my apartment and the incubus contained within.

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About the Author

Ellen Mint

Ellen Mint adores the adorkable heroes who charm with their shy smiles and heroines that pack a punch. She recently won the Top Ten Handmaid’s Challenge on Wattpad where hers was chosen by Margaret Atwood. Her books, Undercover Siren and Fever are available at Amazon as well as a short story in the Lucky Between The Sheets anthology. Married, she lives in Nebraska with her dog named after Granny Weatherwax. Her hobbies include gaming, painting, and halloween prop making. The basement is full of skeletons because they ran out of room in the closets.

You can find Ellen at her website here and also on Bookbub..

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Critical Density
Desiree Holt

General Release Date: 9th March 2021

Word Count: 74,658
Book Length: SUPER NOVEL
Pages: 276

Genres: 

CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE

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Book Description

Running for her life, saved by a hunky former SEAL, she never expected the sex to be as hot as the danger zone.

Hannah Modell thought she had life by the tail—a great job as a drone engineer at top-notch Lowden Tactical with one successful project after another…until it all blew up in her face. Literally.

Now she’s on the run. If she hadn’t met the sexy stranger, she has no idea what would have happened. But former SEAL Matt ‘Viper’ Roman turned out to be both an answer to a prayer and the sexiest man alive.

As the men of the mysterious Galaxy agency race against time to prove her innocence and find the real culprit, things heat to the boiling point between Hannah and Viper.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of violence, death, murder, inprisonment, and political corruption.

Excerpt

How fucking long can they keep me here?

Hannah Modell looked out of the window of her hotel suite to the esthetic view of…the parking lot. Beyond it, she could see other buildings in downtown Houston, accented by the sparkle of the evening lights just coming on. Traffic filled the streets as people came and went, punctuated by the impatient honking of horns. She’d be happy to be in that irritated crowd. She’d be happy to be anyplace except this hotel. Scratch that. Anyplace except for Houston.

How in hell had this happened? One minute, she’d been doing her dream job. The next, she’d been one step away from being arrested and tried for murder. Or whatever they decided to call it.

Fourteen days since it happened, and she was still shocked by the whole thing. She and the rest of her GO-Team had been in a remote location, delivering explosives via drone to take out a key terrorist figure. They’d been told the man was hiding out in a house on Chesapeake Bay. The word was that he’d planned a strike on a major United States city and their assignment was to take him out first.

Her GO-Team had been flown to an isolated location to launch the drone, which had been outfitted with special equipment because of the explosives and had a long-range capacity. This was a black ops assignment, so only the top brass at Lowden and Hannah and her team had the details. It was only the third time she’d been tasked with doing something this enormous and she’d spent hours checking and double checking everything to make sure nothing would go wrong. She knew she’d probably driven her team nuts, but she didn’t care. There was no room for error in a situation like this.

She’d been stunned when the helicopter carrying Greg Kingsley, Lowden’s executive vice president, had shown up at their site. He never came out to remotes. Jumping out of the chopper, he’d told them they had to shut down the job. Right. Now. Right that minute. Finish packing everything up so they could get the hell out of there.

For a moment, she’d just stood there, shocked.

“But—why?”

“There’s a situation, Hannah. Something went wrong big time with the drone delivery. A fuckup and we have a tragedy on our hands.”

“A tragedy?” She’d stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“Worse than that. A disaster of epic proportions. No, bigger than epic.”

Fingers of panic had curled in her stomach. “Greg. Please, please tell me what happened. You know how carefully I check everything before we even leave the campus.”

“Okay, but right now we have to get everyone out of here while we sort this out. Especially you.”

“But—”

“No buts, Hannah.” His voice had had a hard edge to it. “Lowden needs to see you ASAP, since this is your baby. He’ll go over everything with you. I’m just the delivery guy.”

What the hell?

On the flight back, she’d pestered him for details, but he’d had little to say beyond what he’d already told her. He’d just kept repeating that she should wait until they were back at Lowden. She’d been baffled at how this had happened. Misdirect a drone to dump its payload in a different place? Me? Hell, no. She was committed to her job, her country, her patriotism. That was why working for a paramilitary company that—among other things—did black jobs for the government had been so satisfying. Because she got to serve her country in a way a lot of people never could. She didn’t even have friends outside of the job, and those she could only categorize as acquaintances. How disgusting was that?

The moment they’d landed at the complex, Kingsley had hustled her right to Eric Lowden’s office, where he’d told her she was off the job until the situation was resolved.

“Situation?” She’d repeated the word. This was a hell of a lot more than that.

“Your drone flew off course.” Lowden hadn’t minced any words with her. “I don’t know if the programming got screwed up or something else did. The fact remains that somehow, instead of taking out the terrorist, which was your assignment, that drone ended up at Senator Mark Hegman’s summer house and blew it all to shit. Including the senator. We’re just damn lucky his wife wasn’t there at the time.”

“What?” Her stomach had cramped and a chill had slithered down her spine. “I don’t understand. How did this happen?”

“That’s what we have to find out. Right now. There’s a shitstorm you wouldn’t believe.”

“But I double and triple checked all my settings,” she’d assured him, “and we tested it several times before leaving the campus. I always do. You know that.”

“Like I said, we’re being bombarded with questions,” he’d told her. “From all sides, including the fucking government that contracted this. We can’t let them near you until we have answers. I’m doing my best at the moment to avoid everyone, including the media, and juggle everything else. I managed to get the story out that the drone veered off course, which is how this terrible tragedy occurred.”

“But we have to figure out what really happened,” she’d kept insisting. “I want to know what happened. I should be involved.”

“We’ll do that, of course, Hannah,” he’d assured her, “but we have to keep you tucked away.”

“Do you think it was my fault?” she’d demanded. “Mr. Lowden, you know my work. It’s always impeccable.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter to the outside world. And for the sake of Lowden Tactical, I have to get answers without you in the middle of a media frenzy.”

At least they weren’t throwing her to the wolves. She supposed she should be grateful for that.

“We’ll probably have eighteen kinds of federal agencies crawling up our butts,” he’d continued. “It’s important for you not to be available to them while we manage this.”

“But—”

Lowden had shaken his head. “We can’t chance it that somehow they’ll trap you. It’s for your own good as well as ours. Better it be the story that the drone malfunctioned than that you made a mistake or someone sabotaged the flight. That works the best.”

The word sabotage had made her feel physically ill. Was it even possible?

“But it didn’t,” she’d insisted again. “It was programmed perfectly. I want to know what happened, too.” She could hear her voice in her head now, edged with desperation.

“I understand you, but listen to what I’m saying. I’m trying to keep everyone off your ass. That’s why you’re on leave for the moment. With you being the pilot and engineer, they’ll look to you first. And nothing you say will mean a thing to them. That drone killed the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, for Christ’s sake. We have to keep you out of sight.”

She remembered the feeling of nausea choking her as he’d continued talking to her in a low voice, but underneath his quiet tone was hard anger at what a disaster this was for Lowden Tactical. Of course. To him, that came first.

“Eric’s on top of it,” Greg had assured her. “He just told you that. But to make this work, we need to keep you away from the media. Nothing good can come of you being interviewed.”

She’d certainly agreed with that. And now, as she stood in her hotel room, his words kept replaying in her head.

‘Don’t worry, Hannah. We’re planning to keep you hidden away for your own good, until we get a public relations handle on this. And get some answers. We’ve got nice accommodations ready for you, Hannah. You’ll be very comfortable while we sort this out. We just need to keep you away from the media while we figure out how it went wrong. You understand. If you’re not guilty, you have nothing to worry about. Besides, you might not be safe at home.’

Not safe? Who would she be in danger from? Did they know? Or was the evidence not that conclusive? It was, after all, as Lowden had pointed out, her drone, her controls that had supposedly misdirected the drone to dump its payload on the vacationing chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee.

Now, as she paced the living room of the suite, she went over it again and again in her mind, trying to make sense of it. The stated target was supposed to have been an ISIS leader. That was what they had been told. The government had received word that he was hiding out on the estate of a known sympathizer, plotting an attack of some kind on the United States. Lowden had been tasked with delivering the payload because the government was afraid of leaks in its own system.

Mistake! This has to be a mistake.

Except…she’d never made a mistake. Ever. The drones were her life. Was it something with the equipment? Something she’d somehow missed? Except that was verified and calibrated regularly. And all the questions. So many questions. And cooped up in this hotel, that was all she’d been able to think of.

They knew her. They had to know someone else had done this, had committed what could actually be classified as espionage. Espionage. Just the word made her sick to her stomach, as she had been almost every day she’d been tucked away in this upscale jail.

‘You’ll be safe. We have people guarding you.’

Guarding. Right. Private security sitting outside her door at all times. She snorted. Bodyguard, my ass. Despite what they said, they were more like jailers, and the comfortable suite, the cable television with streaming channel and anything she wanted from room service, didn’t make up for the fact that she knew she was a prisoner. The windows might have drapes on them instead of bars, but the result was the same.

She wondered what Lowden had even told the rest of its employees, and what they thought. Had he brought up the espionage possibility with them? She considered them her friends, sort of, but would they buy into it or swear she couldn’t have done it? It occurred to her that she didn’t have any kind of social life beyond Lowden, but until now that hadn’t bothered her…but it meant there was no one to deny the charges or defend her.

When they’d taken her to her apartment to pack up what she’d need for what they’d called ‘a possible extended stay’ elsewhere, she’d loaded everything she could. Of course, her unsmiling guards had checked everything including her undies before letting her fill her suitcases. What the hell did they think I was hiding in them? Secret plans? A payoff? If she’d taken one, for the love of god, she’d have it in a secret offshore bank account where no one could find it.

Wait…that—that wasn’t what they thought, was it? That someone had been paid to drop the load on a non-target and she was the most likely candidate? Supposedly she wasn’t under suspicion. If she hadn’t done this—big if—then she was possibly in danger from whoever the guilty person was. Or persons. Oh, yeah? She guessed that was why they were hesitant to dump her in a jail cell. If everything pointing to her didn’t stick, Lowden could be in for a huge lawsuit. Maybe the company would be shut down.

And no one seemed to want to give her any information. Three times a day, when one of the ‘guards’ wheeled in her food, she badgered them with questions, but they might as well have been mute for all the info she got from them. She asked to please meet with Greg Kingsley, and each time was told he was busy doing damage control. What about the damage to me?

With each passing day, she became more nervous. More desperate. More convinced she was being set up to take the blame for everything.

Her life, like the movement of the planets, had reached critical density. What had she read when studying the mathematics of space? If the expansion of your life has suddenly contracted and movement has halted or turned, you have reached your critical density. Yeah, that was her all right. Stuck in time with no answers and no way forward.

She turned from the window and paced the room, hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans. How in the everlovin’ hell did this even happen?

She had been so excited to get the job interview with Lowden Tactical and it had gone well. She knew she had an unusually high aptitude for spatial awareness and action that made her an expert in the field of drones. Eric Lowden had seemed impressed with her and soon, from the air-conditioned comfort of her control room, she’d been able to kick butt all over the world.

When Lowden had assigned her to one of their GO-Teams, she’d hardly been able to contain her excitement and pride. These were the highly trained covert teams that took drones into enemy territory to surveil or deliver payloads in places where the government politically could not. Positions on the teams were considered highly restricted. She’d made it through the rigorous training and managed to earn the respect of the others. She was one of only two women assigned to the teams and she wore the selection like a badge of honor. She would never do anything to bring shame on it. Ever.

Someone had done this and manipulated things to place the blame on her. Someone who was going to make a lot of money for getting the payload dumped on a different target. She was discovering in a most painful way there was a big difference between having brains and being smart.

One thing she did figure out was how precarious her situation really was. After all the hours she’d spent taking everything apart bit by bit, starting with when she’d been hired by Lowden, she’d come to some frightening conclusions. They’d wanted her brain and her skills, which were the best in the company. They had planned this well in advance. And they could not afford to let her talk to anyone. She had no idea why they hadn’t just gotten rid of her to begin with, but she figured they had some use for her. After that, she was now convinced not even her body would be found.

The story of Hegman’s death was front and center on the news every day. She’d watched for a while on television, but she reached a point where she couldn’t stand it anymore. Although her name had not been mentioned specifically, reporters continued to refer to “a member of the Lowden GO-Team responsible for the drone.”

She had to get out of here and try to figure things out, but how? She was never allowed out of the suite and both doors were guarded twenty-four-seven. All her food came from room service, the trays minutely examined before she was allowed to receive them, and even then, one of her keepers wheeled in the table. The waiters weren’t allowed to enter. When housekeeping came to clean the rooms, one of the men dogged her every footstep. She was surprised they didn’t follow her into the bathroom, for god’s sake.

She had her laptop, but she wasn’t allowed an internet connection. No cell phone, and the desk had been told not to accept any phone calls from this room. She was completely shut off from the outside world. And she had become so immersed in her job that the only people in her life were those on her GO-Team and others at Lowden. How sad is that? And frightening. No one would be banging on doors asking where she was and what was going on.

She stopped pacing for a moment to look out of the window again. It was darker now, the outside lights brighter, more people moving in the area filled with hotels and restaurants and shops. She might try to climb out of a window, except the windows were sealed and she was on the fifteenth floor. But there had to be a way out of here. No one was going to try to prove her innocence except her. Can I just catch a break here, please?

A knock sounded on the door, breaking into her train of thought, not that it was much of a train.

“It’s Santos. Your dinner is here.”

She opened the door, something that was just a formality. She was told—ordered—not to put the chain on the door in case she had a problem and they needed immediate access. It was for her safety.

Right. She’d almost snorted when they told her that. It wasn’t her safety they were worried about. They just wanted to make sure she couldn’t disappear on them.

She opened the door and found Paul Santos standing there with the room service table bearing her meal.

“If you wouldn’t mind stepping back from the door,” he told her in the even, measured voice she’d gotten used to, “I’ll just wheel this into the room.”

Step back. In other words, don’t try to make a run for it. Everything they did made her feel more and more like a criminal and gave the situation an increasingly hopeless slant. She had to figure this out. She couldn’t just wait here in this hotel while incorrect evidence was gathered about her to frame her and the person who was really behind this got away with it.

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About the Author

Desiree Holt

A multi-published, award winning, Amazon and USA Today best-selling author, Desiree Holt has produced more than 200 titles and won many awards. She has received an EPIC E-Book Award, the Holt Medallion and many others including Author After Dark’s Author of the Year. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The London Daily Mail. She lives in Florida with her cats who insist they help her write her books, and is addicted to football.

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