Excerpt from Archangel’s Resurrection by Nalini Singh Copyright © 2022   Alexander was already a seasoned member of a junior squadron under Akhia-Solay when he graduated to adulthood at a hundred years of age. Callie, having hit the century milestone before him, was also well established—as an angelic courier for another court. Not Rumaia’s, for Callie was too clever not to see the fetid corrosion of that court. No, she flew under the banner of Archangel Sha-yi, she who was old enough to be termed an Ancient, and who had eyes so deep and wise that even Alexander found himself unsettled around her. “You’re not in a squadron?” he’d asked when Callie first told him of her position. “Every fledgling warrior that joins my sire’s court must first serve a decade as a courier alongside our usual physical training,” she’d explained. “It’s to ensure that we know all flight paths inside out, and have scouted our own emergency landing sites when it comes to the longer flights over water.” Struck by the importance of both pieces of knowledge, Alexander made sure to volunteer as a courier for his court when the call went out. And he didn’t only take from…

SECOND BRIDE DOWN by Ginny Baird Copyright © 2022, Excerpt with Permission from Entangled   Who was the old man with a mustache teetering his way up to their shop? He held a bouquet in one hand and wielded a cane with the other. A slew of raindrops speckled the shoulders of his raincoat and silvery gray hair. “Mr. Mulroney?” Nell asked on a gasp. Matthew Mulroney was as sweet as the day was long, but he was also ancient. He’d run the Majestic B&B with his late wife Eugenia for years before she passed. He still operated it on his own, in deference to her memory, but had cut way back on accepting reservations and was advertising for extra help. “He must be pushing eighty,” Charlotte said. “But isn’t that adorable?” She winced, and Misty knew that she’d caught her red-handed at something. “What did you do?” She advanced on her sister. “Does this have anything to do with that photo you took yesterday?” Charlotte took a giant step backward. “I’m thinking…yes?” “Nell raised a hand. “Let’s consider the positives—” “Positives?” Misty asked aghast. “Like what?” Charlotte tugged on the power crystal that she claimed kept her focused and…

THE MATCHMAKER AND THE COWBOY Copyright © 2022 Robin Bielman, Excerpt with Permission from Entangled   “In the quiet of the bunkhouse, he heard her sigh. He didn’t give false compliments and always meant everything he said. God, he wished she were close enough to touch. To run his fingers through her hair. To press his lips to hers and learn how she liked to be kissed. Stop going there, Hunter. “What’s your least favorite food?” she asked, roping them back into superficial territory. “Don’t have one. I pretty much like everything. If it’s put in front of me, I’ll eat it. Yours?” “Peppers. I don’t even like them on my plate.” “Peppers everywhere are mourning the plea­sure of your mouth.” Jesus, did he just say that? Apparently, he still bumbled his words around her. “Do you want to go back to Africa some day?” he rushed to ask, the question the first thing to pop into his head. “Or someplace else?” “If given the opportunity, I’d love to. I know Maverick loves to travel; do you?” she asked. “It’s not in my blood like it is in his, but seeing other parts of the world would be great. Especially with…

MURDER AT THE MAJESTIC HOTEL Copyright © 2022 Clare McKenna, Excerpt with Permission from Kensington   Stella rested her cheek against the pillow as Lyndy traced the length of her neck with hot, gentle kisses. She shifted to capture his lips with her own, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him to her. She couldn’t get close enough. “Bugger off the pair of ya!” A door slammed, and someone began pounding on it from outside in the hall. The hostility jolted Stella upright. Flashes of her father’s temper flooded her with emotions she hadn’t had to face in days—grief, guilt, fear. But Lyndy’s warmth as he wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders, pulling her protectively to him, eased it all away. “Horace, please,” a woman’s voice pleaded. “We need to speak with you.” “Confound it, Uncle, what’s going on?” a man’s voice demanded. The pounding continued. “Bloody hell,” Lyndy whispered as he flung the bedclothes off. For a moment, the sight of his skin, the well-formed muscles in his back glistening with sweat in the glow of the fire, made her forget there was an altercation taking place a few feet from their door. Then curiosity overcame…

P 18–21 The Favor Copyright © 2022 by Nicci French.   “Anyway, congratulations,” said Liam, holding up his coffee cup. “What about?” “About your upcoming marriage.” “How do you know about that?” “Someone told me. When I was tracking you down.” Jude laughed. “Tracking me down? What are you, a private detective?” “Just an old friend.” He sipped his coffee. “A doctor, like you always said you’d be. You did it.” Jude’s throat felt tight. She had thought she would never see Liam again, and yet over the years she had imagined meeting him: by chance, on a bus, on a street, in a crowd of people, walking in the Clee Hills by her parents’ house in Shropshire. Because there were things that she needed to say, had needed to say for over a decade, although now the moment had actually come she didn’t know how to start saying them. “I should be the one tracking you down,” she said, haltingly. “I know that you . . .” She stopped. “I’ve never forgotten.” He frowned, as if he was considering this. When he spoke, he didn’t seem angry or even sad. Just reflective, as if he were talking about someone…

Excerpted from The Dark King, by Gina L. Maxwell. Entangled Publishing, 2022. Reprinted with permission.   As she emerges from the pool, she wrings the water out of her long hair, then fluffs and separates the strands so they fall in damp pieces around her shoulders. My eyes stay pinned to her as she walks to me and takes a seat on the next lounge chair over. She stays facing me but leans back on her hands and extends her long legs into the space between us. It’s not done in an overtly seductive way—her demeanor is casual, like it’s simply a comfortable position for her to be in—but it makes me want to devour her from her pink-painted toes to her pretty pink mouth. Looking back out over the pool, I say, “You should wear swimsuits with a little more suit to them.” “I packed two for a two-day trip, and if you’ll remember, I was forced to wear the other one as pajamas. I’ll admit I bought this as more of a dare to myself and didn’t really plan on wearing it, but beggars, choosers, yada-yada.” She glances down at herself, then raises her gaze again to aim…

How had she let herself bet everything on him? She didn’t know him. Not really. Never mind that something about him coiled her insides into knots, drawing her to his steady presence with a pull she couldn’t define. Betting her entire life on a feeling had been reckless. Stupid. The morning air hung heavy with moisture and the smells she’d loved her entire life. Fresh grass, dew-laden air, horses. The reins grew slick in her hand and she had to squeeze her eyes shut a moment. Amos’s promises were a rusty bucket. Not holding anything for long. Yet somehow he’d weighted everything in his favor, and the scales tipped all the way to his side. Arrow could save the farm, she felt that deep in her marrow. She really could bet her future on him. Silas, on the other hand . . . Nora huffed. What had she been thinking? The dull ache residing in her chest intensified, bringing barbs that cut into her heart. She’d been thinking he cared for her. Perhaps loved her, as she did him. Nora thrust her foot back into the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle. Maybe Mother had been right all along. Emotions…

The Second Murder at the Vicarage Val McDermid   To have one murder in one’s vicarage is unfortunate; to have a second looks remarkably like carelessness, or worse. It was to no avail that I protested that the dead maid in the kitchen was not our maid. The unfortunate fact that she had formerly occupied that role was enough to set the tongues of St Mary Mead wagging more eagerly than the tails of a pack of hounds catching the scent of a fox. To make matters worse, my wife had made no secret of our delight at Mary’s departure from our employ. Dear Griselda has many fine qualities but the discretion that befits a vicar’s wife is not among them. In fairness, however, anyone who had ever dined with us could bear testament to the literally diabolical nature of Mary’s cooking. On one occasion, she put a pan of eggs on the stove to boil and promptly forgot about them. The pan boiled dry, the eggs exploded, filling the house with a dark sulphurous reek. ‘I imagine this is how the outskirts of hell will smell,’ our neighbour, Miss Marple, remarked with a twinkle when she arrived later for…

MANHATTAN ENGINEER DISTRICT The Continental comes to a stop in front of a twenty-eight-story white brick building across the street from New York’s City Hall. “Here you go, sir. Two-seventy Broadway,” Johnson announces. Nathan takes another look at his orders. “Manhattan Engineer District. Eighteenth floor.” He grabs his bag and holds out his hand. “Thanks for the ride, Bill. And for the company.” “Good luck to you, sir,” Johnson replies. “I hope everything works out for you and for your family.” Nathan enters the lobby and is immediately stopped and questioned. He shows his orders to the uniformed security guard and is directed to the elevators. When doors slide open on the eighteenth floor, Nathan is surprised to see what looks like an ordinary office hallway. At one end, a uniformed officer is stationed outside a glazed door that reads army corps of engineers, manhattan engineer district. He reviews Nathan’s orders, nods, and opens the door. Nathan enters the office on tentative steps, unsure of what surprises will happen next. There is a young lady sitting at the reception desk and she smiles at him sweetly. Her light brown hair is permed. She has a white poplin blouse and a…

Ancient Desire Forgotten Brotherhood Book 5 N.J. Walters     “I won’t hurt you.” Raine had awoken him from the Deep Sleep, something that should have been impossible. “You.” She gasped for air. “You’re real.” “I thought we established that.” The darkness soothed him, but her heartbeat was getting faster, not slower. Frowning, he leaned forward until he was a hairbreadth from her face. “Don’t eat me,” she yelled. Then she popped him in the jaw with her fist. It bounced harmlessly off his scales. She yelped again, shaking her fingers and cradling them to her chest. Even in her fear, she fought. “Where’s my stupid flashlight?” She patted her hand on the ground beside her. He caught the edge of the light with the tip of one claw and gently rolled it toward her. “Ah-ha.” She grabbed it and shook it. “There are new batteries in you. Work, damn it.” She smacked the device several times against her thigh and the light reappeared. She swiveled and shone it straight in his face. He reared back and blinked several times. “Don’t like that, do you?” She continued to point it at his face. “Stay back.” Did she really think the…