“You’re not coming home to Fairbanks during the monthlong summer break in the Senate, Jess?” Senator Jessup Outlaw moved around his bedroom packing while talking to his oldest brother, Garth, on his cell. “No. I met up with Spencer last month when he was in DC on business. Reggie and I joined him one night for drinks.” Spencer Westmoreland was their cousin from California who owned a huge vineyard near Napa Valley. Reginald Westmoreland was Spencer’s brother and also a fellow senator. “Spencer invited me to visit him and Chardonnay at the Russell Vineyards. Since many of you are busy right now and will be down there for the anniversary celebration at the end of the month anyway, I decided to accept his invitation.” “What about town hall meetings with your constituents?” “I held several while home for Sloan’s wedding, so I’m good there. Everyone needs a vacation, even senators.” Jess, as he was known to his family and friends, was thirty-eight and a senator for his state of Alaska. He also had four brothers and a sister who kept him busy. All Jess’s siblings worked for the family-owned business, Outlaw Freight Lines. He’d worked there as a corporate attorney…
“The house still isn’t for sale.” Melanie’s gaze strayed toward the stairs. “Look, why don’t we go somewhere to sit down and have a cup of coffee to discuss this? My feet hurt.” I knew there had to be another reason she wanted to leave. Melanie’s feet would have to be bleeding and on fire for her to say that wearing heels had been a bad idea. “There’s no discussion,” Beau said. “I own this house and it isn’t for sale.” I tilted my head back to look him in the eyes. “Well, the MLS says differently. And I’m calling my agent right now to make an offer.” Before he could respond, Jolene said, “There’s an adorable café right down the street, on Burgundy.” “Is it vegan?” Beau asked. “Assuming Nola still prefers cardboard to real food.” “I’m sure I can find something,” I said, less annoyed than I should have been. He’d remembered something about me that wasn’t pitiful. Which probably meant that he could recall more about me than I would have liked, but at least that part was from an earlier time, before the worst parts. “Fine,” I said. “But I’m not changing my mind.” Melanie practically…
Excerpted from A Match Made in Lipa. Copyright © Carla de Guzman. All rights reserved. Published by Carina Press. Anton quickly spotted the cold goods refrigerator and walked toward it. He had discovered very early on in his trip what he wanted out of a Japanese convenience store, and very rarely strayed from what he knew. Onigiri triangles and milk tea. Maybe a beer if he was feeling extra melancholic, but not yet. He spotted the onigiri triangles. There was only one tuna mayo left. Santi reached out to take it, only to have another hand shoot forward and grab it, leaving him with nothing but air. “Sumimasen,” he said gruffly, wondering if he was pronouncing that right. “That’s—” “My onigiri? Yes it is.” The English sounded familiar, making Anton turn his head to face his opponent. Which was how he saw Kira Luz again after twenty years. And wow. She was beautiful. Still beautiful, actually, with those dark, upturned eyes that hadn’t changed since she was ten. They were eyes that could see everything, see through him without much difficulty. It was the same face he used to know, just older. Changed. Santi used to be told a…
CHAPTER 1 Dry Heat by Len Joy Excerpted from Dry Heat: A Novel. Copyright © Len Joy. All rights reserved. Published by BQB Publishing. https://www.lenjoybooks.com 3 P.M. – SATURDAY – NOVEMBER 20, 1999 ROADRUNNER PARK – PHOENIX, AZ The gangs were always stealing the nylon basketball nets, so the park director had replaced them with galvanized steel chain, which rattled obnoxiously on every bad shot. Joey frowned as his jump shot clanked off the front rim. “Your shot sucks today, Joey Blade,” Mallory said as she bounced the ball back to him. “Your boobs are distracting me. Maybe it’s time you started wearing a bra.” Blonde, with a pixie cut that framed her cute little-girl face, Mallory could have passed for a twelve-year-old if it hadn’t been for her huge breasts. She was fifteen, two years younger than Joey, and they had been playground buddies for ten years. She lived with her creepy father in a rundown brick house a block away and escaped to the park most afternoons. “Come on, concentrate, Mr. All American.” She lifted up her sweatshirt, flashing him as he took his next shot. An airball. “Aargh.” Joey chased…
CHAPTER ONE My mother woke me in the dead of night again. I felt her standing over my bed, the heat of a flashlight on my face. Why couldn’t she just turn on the lights like a normal person? After sundown, we lived in darkness. If the lamps were on, people could see inside, she said. “Maddie, wake up. We’re going for a drive. Just put your coat on over your nightgown.” I tried to wake up, but stay asleep too, fighting with myself in some in-between place. She paced back and forth, whispering under her breath like she was arguing with an imaginary someone. I wondered what it was this time. But whatever she had planned, nothing could be worse than what had happened last Sunday. On that terrible night, Momma pulled me from my bed at 4 a.m. “Get up, and come with me,” she’d said, her green eyes wild. She rushed me onto my feet, the wood floor cool and in need of sweeping, gritty under my toes. “I need your help.” I still had a thumbprint bruise on my arm where she grabbed me in that moment, dragging me into the living room. I thought…
“I have an idea.” He was much too close, the already cramped kitchen seeming much more so with him near enough behind me to feel the warmth rolling off him. He smelled like a hazy memory—some basic soap or shampoo that I associated with my younger years. “What?” My voice came out husky, my thoughts already turning inappropriately sexy. “Let’s fix the pool table.” “Oh. That.” Fool. Of course he didn’t share my problem of a wandering brain. But doing something, anything sounded better than more chances for my mind to get me in trouble. “Let’s do that.” “I found a toolbox earlier. It has a level in it, so we should be able to fix the table by tightening the legs and adding a shim if necessary.” “You’re a man of many talents.” I followed him back to the game room, stopping to collect the toolbox from the hall closet. “I try.” Calder shrugged as he started examining the pool table this way and that. “With my dad at sea so much, Mom made sure that we all had basic fix-it skills.” “Smart mom. I need to remember to show the girls things like screwdrivers and drills.” I wandered…
It’s not exactly appropriate to hang around a school, but that’s where I find myself come Monday afternoon, parked just outside the gates, watching as people come in and out. I personally don’t know why anyone would want to be a high school teacher, but props to them, because someone has to do it and I’m glad it’s not me. I look down at the DMV picture I have of Cara. She’s an attractive woman. Extremely so. Warm brown eyes, smiling right at me, long, lush brown hair and her lips upturned at one corner. I find myself wondering how she will react to finding out that she has a half sister. Or maybe she already knows and doesn’t care. Some people aren’t so friendly with certain sides of their family, and the fact that she took her stepfather’s last name makes me think she isn’t too close with her own biological father. She apparently has a boyfriend who is a biker; I saw his name on the deed to her house. I hope that’s not going to be an issue for me and he’s not going to cause any problems. I’m here today to make sure I have the…
He wanted to spare her sensibilities. Somewhat. But he couldn’t resist a smirk when she blushed furiously. She scowled at his grin, and he made an effort to control his outward amusement. “I propose such attempts should occur a minimum of six times a month, at least twice a week, every week, save for when you may be…” He froze, trying to think of a delicate way to put it. “Indisposed.” She scowled again but didn’t object to his phrasing. “However, should one of those weeks be missed for any other reason, then a third day should be added to the following week.” She frowned, and he braced for her to argue against the frequency he suggested. “I do not agree.” As he suspected. “Six times a month won’t be nearly sufficient.” His eyebrows hit his hairline, and her blush deepened so much he was surprised her eyes weren’t watering. That…was not what he had expected her to say. She took a deep breath. “I simply mean that only attempting twice a week will greatly reduce our odds and could make this drag on for months. As the objective is to accomplish this…
“That arrogant sonofabitch! That voicemail… How dare he? Picking up my phone, I typed out a text in response. Because let’s face it. I wasn’t calling him back and risking him pulling me over to the dark side. Olive: Don’t flatter yourself, Walker! You weren’t a good lay in college, the only way for you to go was up. I’m guessing you peaked at average. Oh, sure, it was a boldfaced lie. Hayes had been a great lay. If he’d gotten better? Oophf, the thought made me rub my thighs together. I wasn’t stupid, I knew he’d used the voicemail to bait me into exactly this situation. But what really irked me was that he knew I was making excuses to avoid seeing him, and he was busting my balls about it. I didn’t dodge the hard stuff. Hard stuff was my bread and butter. Yet that was exactly what I’d been doing. If he left me a voicemail, I emailed him back because even just his voice on the messages had been enough to make my nipples pearl. Truthfully, I knew spending any time at all with Hayes could be a slippery slope. There would be no…
Sometimes Sidra saw the ghost of Torin’s first wife sitting at the table. The visits occurred when one season ended and another began, when change could be felt in the air. Donella Tamerlaine’s ghost liked to bask in the morning light, dressed in leather armor and plaid, watching as Sidra stood in the kitchen by the fire, cooking breakfast for Maisie. Sometimes Sidra felt unworthy, as if Donella were assessing her. How well was Sidra caring for the daughter and husband she had left behind? But most of the time Sidra felt as if Donella was simply keeping her company, so fastened was her soul to this place, to this ground. The women—one dead and one living—were connected by love and blood and soil. Three cords that were so interwoven that Sidra was not surprised that Donella appeared to her and her alone. “I have to send Maisie to school this autumn,” Sidra said as she stirred the parritch. The cottage was quiet, dusted with dawn, and the wind was just beginning to howl its morning gossip. When Donella was silent, Sidra glanced at her. The ghost sat in her favorite chair at the table, her tawny hair flowing…