The wood panel explodes above my head, and I drop to the ground and lie pressed against the wet stone steps, sucking in oxygen, my heart pounding, my arteries pumped with adrenaline. I want to scramble to my feet and make a run for it, but I force myself to stay motionless. Here, I’m hidden by the yew trees and shrubs in my front yard. Standing, I’m an easy target. My face is a few inches from my copy of The Washington Post in its plastic wrapper to protect it from the rain. Another giveaway I hadn’t yet returned home from police headquarters. I must do something about that problem in the future. Assuming I have a future. I’d parked my car in front of my house rather than in my garage, where it would normally be tucked away. It’s a 1964, fire-engine-red Corvette convertible. That might as well be a billboard advertisement: This is where Marko Zorn lives. Come and get me. I’m an idiot. This is a quiet neighborhood of single-family homes, most built in the 1920s, with large yards and wide front porches where people once sat and drank iced tea on warm days. It’s a typical…

Reid felt his phone buzz and expected to see his brother’s name flash across the screen. But he was pleasantly surprised when it was an unknown number, suggesting they meet up in a few days at the Rookery in the Loop so they could start scouting locations. This is Cassie, by the way. Reid felt himself smile, which he tried to tamp down into a smirk, but he knew he was grinning at his phone like some kind of giddy loser. Reid: Does this mean you’re going to do the campaign? Cassie: I suppose you’ll get to see me in caution tape lingerie after all. He wondered what changed her mind. From what little he knew, Dana could be convincing, but he also suspected that Cassie knew an opportunity when she saw one, even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted. And he’d be damned if he didn’t take the opportunity to work with Cassie, wearing next to nothing. Knowing that James would tell him to keep his money if he tried to pay for the beer, Reid quickly finished his beer and left enough cash to cover the drink, a normal tip, and then some, and headed down the…

Thank you for having me here today! CROOKED SHADOWS picks up right where RARE VIGILANCE leaves off, with our human bodyguard Atlas protecting his vampire charge Cristian as they flee to Romania to escape the strigoi hunting them. In this scene, the pair are visiting the safe house of Cristian’s missing friend Radu, hoping to clues to his whereabouts. *** The alley must have provided access for city workers, because it was small and cramped and functional, rather than charming. It did run alongside the back fences of several yards though, which was exactly what they needed. They relied on the ambient light from the buildings, the lightning’s flashes, and their own strong night vision to work their way closer and closer to Radu’s house. “Well,” Atlas said when they finally stopped on the other side of a tall fence, “we found it.” Cristian gawked up at the security measures at the top of the fence. The wooden slats were cut in decorative patterns, all stake shaped, and two parallel sets of razor wire were set above those. “This seems like overkill.” The low, amused huff of laughter from Atlas blended in with the thunder. “I’ve seen worse.” “You’re kidding.”…

Bree’s gaze snapped around the room and fell on some framed snapshots on a side table. Most of the photos focused on a little blonde girl. Bree’s heart kicked against her ribs. She’d known homicide would be challenging. Instead of the occasional dead body, death would be her focus on a daily basis. She’d come to terms with her new reality, but kids . . . For most cops, it was the child victims who broke them. “Lena is your daughter?” Romano asked. “Yeah.” Kelly jumped to her feet, her eyes wild. “You gotta find her.” Bree studied the photos.“How old is she?” “Five.” Kelly covered her mouth with one hand. She wrapped the other around her own waist. “Is there anyone James could have left Lena with?” Romano’s voice remained calm, but the tone had shifted. There was a layer of urgency under the quiet words. “Maybe his father. That’s who he lives with.” Kelly shoved a hand through her limp hair. She pulled out a phone and jabbed the screen. She turned on the speakerphone and held the cell in front of her mouth. A man answered in an angry voice. “Why are you calling me?” Kelly ignored…

Everyone is home for the holidays, clamoring for all the Christmas cheer only their mother can whip up. They can already smell the chestnuts roasting—or is that Mom’s hair on fire? From New York Times bestselling author Chandler Baker comes the hilarious short story, Oh. What. Fun.  *** Gift wrapping is a disappearing art, like cursive. At one point, Mom tried to teach us how to cut the paper just so, to make sharp corners and tie ribbons that didn’t resemble dead things, but we can admit that it’s not where our particular talents lie, and when Mom had to give up on us, we accepted her decision with grace and dignity. There’s an ongoing debate between Channing and Doug about whether Santa presents for the twins should be wrapped. Doug contends that Santa doesn’t wrap gifts and instead pulls them from his bag naked and just sticks them by the fireplace like a goddamn heathen. Obviously the Clausters know better. Santa doesn’t need to wrap presents. That’s what the elves are for. Santa gifts come with a unique wrapping paper not sold locally, which is how everyone knows they truly do originate in the North Pole. This year, Mom…

From Suzanne Redfearn, the bestselling author of In an Instant, comes a heartfelt short story about one couple’s journey to discover if there really is a secret ingredient to happily ever after before their upcoming holiday wedding in The Marriage Test. — I hurry toward him, my hair damp from my shower and the taste of seawater still on my lips. “Sorry,” I say as I throw my arms around his neck and lift up on my toes to kiss him, his lips always surprisingly soft for a man so tall and strong. “Mmmm,” he mumbles. “Salty.” “And spicy and sweet,” I say, dropping down to cradle his face in my hands and look him over, a habit inherited from my grandmother, who likes to check that those she hasn’t seen for a while are well. For Justin and me, it’s been two weeks since I returned from his home in New York City. He is freshly shaved, his bronze eyes bright, his black hair recently cut. I catch the scent of his aftershave and notice his shirt is new and freshly pressed. Thick emotion wells in my throat, as it does every time I see him after we’ve been…

Today and tomorrow we are sharing exclusive excerpts from a wonderful bunch of authors with new short stories available for the holidays season. Up next: J. Courtney Sullivan!  *** Not happy? No problem. Fake it. From New York Times bestselling author J. Courtney Sullivan comes the sharp-witted short story, Model Home, about the reality of reality TV. When I was growing up, my family lived in a little house on a busy street in Joliet, across from a gas station and next door to a strip mall. It was like an entire neighborhood had once been there and was demolished but for that one ugly split-level ranch. Maybe that is what happened, I don’t know. We had one tiny bathroom for five people. A galley kitchen with fluorescent lights. Everything was always a mess. Forget a mudroom, we didn’t even have a coat closet. Everyone just walked in the door and tossed their coats onto the arm of the plastic-wrapped sofa. My parents didn’t care about having, nor could they afford, anything nice. They patched broken windows with black garbage bags. When the roof leaked, they’d just put a pot on the carpet to catch the drips, and the pot…

Jump Into the Holidays with Exclusive Excerpts from Festive Reads by Bestselling Authors Rainbow Rowell, Suzanne Redfearn, J. Courtney Sullivan, and Chandler Baker on FRESH FICTION! What happens when a group of bestselling authors are asked to write holiday tales? Pure magic. Unwrap short reads by your favorite writers by visiting www.amazon.com/holidaystories. Then download Rainbow Rowell’s take on an awkward meetup after the pandemic has made one couple’s social skills rather rusty. Scroll on as Suzanne Redfearn’s heroine gives her husband-to-be a mid-winter quest that will (hopefully) ensure their happy-ever-after. Don’t miss J. Courtney Sullivan’s fame-hungry reality TV star’s attempts to create an early holiday miracle for a struggling couple. And finally, laugh-out-loud at Chandler Baker’s fictional Clauster family as their Christmas celebration goes up in flames. Get a taste of these unique holiday tales with exclusive excerpts from each today and tomorrow on the FF blog! First up, Rainbow Rowell… *** After a long, lonely year, two people stumble toward each other in If the Fates Allow a holiday short story by Rainbow Rowell the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Eleanor & Park and Fangirl. Grandpa sat at the head of the table, and Reagan sat next…

“I love you.” He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his outburst, him or her. Her. Definitely her, he decided a second later when her face blanched and the pulse beating in her throat went thready. Fuck. So much for living up to your nickname. Romeo was romantic. That was just…clumsy. “Breathe, Mia,” he instructed quietly and watched her suck in a ragged breath. He opened his mouth to add, he wasn’t sure what, but she beat him to the punch. “I love you too.” He blinked, not quite believing his ears. His heart believed them. And it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to burst with joy or fly out of his mouth on wings of happiness. Maybe both. Fly out of his mouth and then explode like a confetti cannon, leaving little paper hearts raining down around them. He had to make sure the pain meds weren’t making him hallucinate. “You do?” he asked cautiously. “Of course I do. You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. The most amazing person I’ve ever met.” She shrugged. “How could I not love you?” With every word out of her mouth, his elation grew. In fact, it was so big…

D is for Deputy Donut, both the cat and the shop. E is for Emily and the exciting Brent Fyne. C is for coffee, crime, and that cop. K is for mistletoe—you know what I mean. (And did I mention the handsome Detective Brent Fyne?) * T is for tourists stranded in town. H is for houseguests, feeling quite down. E is for events and entertaining all ‘round. * D is for donuts, detectives, delight. O is for observing, overhearing, and “Oooohs!” N is for nosing around in the night. U is for understanding the most subtle clues. T is for treats. (That includes mistletoe.) S is for sleuthing, skiing, and snow. Exclusive Excerpt from DECK THE DONUTS Chapter 6 I turned on the bedside lamp. Dep stood with her nose against my closed bedroom door. Her tail twitched back and forth, and the fur along her spine stood up in a way that made my own hackles rise. It was one thirty in the morning. Who had closed the front door? Had Paige left, or had someone arrived? I always locked the door, but maybe seeing Dep on Paige’s lap after I came in from parking the car had…