I’m proud of the way I maintain unwavering eye contact with Max as I speak the words that sent me into a humiliation spiral yesterday. But today? Today those words earn me a sexy crooked grin. And right now I feel like a brazen badass for having the guts to say them again. “I thought it was amusing. And funny. And really damn cute.” Those last three words send a jolt of electricity across my skin. He says them like there’s a period after each one to drive home just how much he means it. Inside I’m cheering. Max Boyson thinks I’m really. Damn. Cute. I slide closer to him. Our knees bump, but I don’t move. He pivots his chair to face me fully. “Is that so?” I ask, my voice soft. “Yeah. And actually.” He drains the last of the whiskey in his cup, then roughly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’d be happy to listen to you talk about tonguing and licking and sucking again. If you wanted.” “Screw talking. What if I just do it?” I cup my hand over my mouth the moment I finish speaking. Holy crap. Did I seriously…
The forty A4 sheets seemed to be an excerpt from a novel. It depicted a personal relationship between a nineteen-year-old high school girl and a famous painter who was nearly forty. It described the love of the precocious girl and her betrayal by the self-centered artist, told from the painter’s wife’s point of view. The portrayal of the artist was nuanced. Although his behavior toward the young woman was clearly inappropriate, there was a side to him that made the reader want to understand him, maybe even excuse him. However, no matter how much he was portrayed as a naive artist, that did not change the fact that a man over forty was using a young woman. His seemingly plausible artistic sensibilities and uncontrollable emotions were nothing more than selfish acts that eventually ruined the lives of the women who loved him. In the end, he was a single-minded man who thought only about painting, a shameless man who habitually used women for artistic inspiration. The narrator was embarrassed by her husband’s betrayal and felt a deep bond with the girl who had been abandoned by him. Both the wife and the girl shared a feeling of hostility toward him….
Chapter Twenty-One (Pages 134 – 137) The three siblings walked across the driveway together, the sun long since dropped behind the ridge in front of their property. Daylight Savings had been weeks earlier, and they all hunkered down for the long, often sunless winter. Halsey had been texting almost frantically for the past three days, determined to present Chris with his favorite foods and drinks, and Penny remembered how much she liked this side of her cousin. The connector, the bon vivant. The one who had convinced them to go midnight sledding as kids and the one who had figured out how to sneak out to the Rusty Nail as teenagers. “Hey, you guys!” Halsey yelled out from the front door. She was standing with a tray of what looked to be Dark ’N’ Stormies. “Cocktail time!” Halsey seemed overly excited for the occasion. She wore an olive-colored sweater over dark jeans and little booties. Her hair was blown out, showing off just how blonde and just how full her hair really was. Even the diamond studs were out. Penny half expected to see her sporting her family sapphire and old wedding bands. “Thanks, Hals,” Chris said easily, taking…
Extract from How to Woo a Wallflower by Virginia Heath Book 1 in the Society’s Most Scandalous series Text reproduced by kind permission of Harlequin Books S.A Copyright © 2022 After a horrific accident which nearly killed her, Lady Harriet Fitzroy is finally being launched into the London Season two years later than she should have where she is resigned to being bored stiff in the Wallflower chairs. Except a chance meeting with her over-protective elder brother’s best friend leads to an unlikely new friendship of her own… ‘Are you taken for this dance, Lady Anne?’ The third besotted gentleman in a row edged towards Hattie’s sister as the pair of them perused the refreshment table. Lord Pickering was a handsome devil and knew it. He was also one of the gentlemen her twin had had her eye on. ‘For if you are not…’ ‘She’s not,’ said Hattie before a beholden Annie felt obliged to turn him down for her sister’s sake as she already had with two others. Just because Hattie couldn’t dance thanks to her dratted leg didn’t mean she expected her sister to sit with her in the wallflower chairs as she had…
PROLOGUE I T TOOK ABOUT fifty phone calls, but the family finally decided on a place to eat dinner before Decker and Rina took off for Israel from Kennedy. Decker looked around the table at their truly blended family: Rina’s two grown sons, Jacob and Sammy; his adult daughter, Cindy; their baby daughter, Hannah, who now had a baby of her own; and their foster son, Gabe. There were also three spouses, two fiancées, and five grandchildren. He and Rina had done well. Even if he died tomorrow, Decker would go out a winner. As usual, the conversation turned lively, then loud. Adults shouting, children interrupting, along with the usual spillages and meltdowns. Right before the entrées arrived, the server came over with two big bottles of rosé champagne and flutes. “Who ordered this?” Rina asked. “Not that I’m complaining.” “Group effort.” Jacob stood up and gently tinkled the glass with a fork. “Now that we’re all here, I propose a toast to the happy couple. May they find peace and solitude on this trip to the Holy Land, and may their construction plans go easily. L’chaim.” “L’chaim,” everyone echoed. “One more thing.” Jacob held out two envelopes…
Excerpt for BECOMING FAMILY A twig crunched behind her and Tabitha spun around, the pulse in her neck going crazy. “It’s okay, Tabby.” Hobbs was there, slipping a leash on Humphrey, who had apparently followed Trinity outside. The old beagle tilted his muzzle in the air, sniffing, his cataracts shining in the dim light of a distant streetlamp. “Rhett’s so busy cleaning up he didn’t even notice his dog left the building.” Hobbs rolled his eyes. He’d shed most of his costume, and now just looked like a muscular guy in jeans and a flannel shirt. Though it was cold, he had his sleeves rolled up, neck unbuttoned. He looked thick, warm and inviting. “You okay?” “Um. Yeah.” Tabitha realized she was just stupidly standing there, staring. Trinity had finished her business and now trotted over to Humphrey. She wanted to sniff his ears, but Humphrey had other ideas, trying to get around to her backside. “Dirty old man,” Hobbs said. He turned back to Tabitha, his humor fading a little. “Good catch back there. With Carrie and her shitfaced date. Things were about to get ugly.” Tabitha tried to shrug it off, even though she felt a rush…
If dead men tell no tales, then Tohva Blayde had nothing to worry about. His mission to figure out what Manitac was hiding inside the haunted nebula had come to an end. Despite all his attempts to send a discreet coded message from the UHS Nimbus back to his Shadow cell, someone in the rank and file had figured out what he was up to. His escape plan worked only long enough for him to get a glimpse of Manitac’s newest operation. It was the last thing he saw before he died. Of course he was dead, because that was the only explanation for the gorgeous woman kissing him. Her tiny physique clung to his body like clay, her breasts warming his own chest through his flight suit, her sweet lips crushed against his own. There was no way this was real. It couldn’t be. He’d died and the Guardians had tossed him onto this nightmare world, he was sure of it. Except he didn’t want to stop kissing her. In fact, he wanted so much more. His body responded to this lithe figure pressed against him in the most natural and inappropriate way possible. It wasn’t until he’d realized…
Chaper 2 She watched from the shadows. Marcelle had bolted from the cellar when her mother had gone out to gather supplies and Madame Fournier had dozed off with her daughters, and then she had slipped into a crowd of people who were making their way to the cathedral square. Monsieur Bauer was doing the translating again for the German commander, but Marcelle didn’t need it. She understood perfectly well what “Wir werden deine Stadt niederbrennen” meant without having to be told. We will burn your city down. Insubordination would not be tolerated. Monsieur Bauer’s voice struggled to be heard over the roar of the commander’s words that echoed in German through the town square. Everything about the man was severe: the lines and angles of his face; the boom of his voice; the penalties for breaking his rules. Loitering, missing curfew, and not saluting German officers were not fatal transgressions, but most of his orders ended with the words “wird mit der Todesstrafe bestraft.” . . . the penalty is death. “All weapons are to be turned over at once. If you are found with firearms in your possession, the penalty is death.” “All collaborators will be treated as enemies…
CHAPTER 1 New York City The Brooklyn Bridge Footpath Dr. Jennifer Delmonico was approaching the second tower, which translated to somewhere around seventeen minutes at her usual pace. It took most people half an hour to cross the East River, but at six-foot-three, Delmonico’s stride put her into NFL receiver territory. Which was one of the things about being a tall woman—the long bones were almost always of a greater proportionate length. Back in high school, when she had been the third tallest student out of twelve hundred kids, her height felt like a curse. But life out in the world had taught her that being the tallest woman in the room, and often the tallest person, came with all kinds of advantages—of both the social and biomechanical variety. Old Man Winter was on the way. The cold air coming down from Canada this time of year hit the warm water surging up the East River with the tide, and the resulting condensation blossomed into a localized fog bank that blanketed the bridge. She took the footpath almost every shift. Day or night. Rain or shine. Winter or summer. It helped her unwind the think box…
“How can you tell the difference between a good lawyer and bad one?” Mikaela shrugged, baring her teeth in a decent approximation of a smile. In law school, she and her classmates had traded lawyer jokes as a pastime; she doubted there was one she hadn’t already heard. “With a bad lawyer, a case might drag on for several years. But a good one knows how to make it last even longer!” The group of men standing with Mikaela all laughed. Her boss and the managing partner of the firm, Art Chamberlain, guffawed the loudest. “Aw, Mr. Proctor, good lawyers are a dime a dozen. They know the law.” Mikaela smiled, taking a sip of her beer. “But great lawyers…” Mikaela paused and the men around her hung on her next words. “…know the judge.” Her grin grew as they all roared around her. Her prospect, Burt Proctor, raised his glass to her as the Yankees scored another run, putting them in the lead. In the seats just outside the doors, the group watching the game erupted. Several men and the few other women in the suite jumped to their feet. “A lawyer is in the elevator,” Mikaela…