We look at each other across the shop. Or, more accurately, I glare at her. Thankfully, there’re no customers present to witness my daily mortifications by a uni student barely younger than me who loves to mop up the floor with my pride. The truth is we met in a book club a couple of years back, and we became fast friends. She gave hilarious reviews, which turned out to be handy for the shop. She thought I was delightfully quirky. It would have been the perfect spring romance, except that I’m attracted to men, and I was together with my ex. At any rate, we’ve got the banter down, especially now that I rely on her help in the shop. Customers love her, too. She pretends to reconsider. “Or how about ‘Aubrey Barnes, Fierce Defender of Books’? That’s got a superhero thing going on. More sympathetic, I think. Am I right or am I right?” Gemma gives an impish smile. Once upon a time, I was just Aubrey Barnes, ready to go for pints or a gig or the occasional big night out. Back before life became too real. Now, I’m twenty-three going on forty-three. I sigh, noting the…

Seconds pass like hours. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I wait. I wait while emotion hurricanes through me in a mass of anger, sadness, and fear. I wait for Braden to continue. To say what he has to say. To end our relationship—a relationship that perhaps should never have begun. I could be content right now. Who needs Susanne Cosmetics? I could still be working for Addison Ames. She paid me pretty well, and yeah, she’s a narcissistic bitch, but I was making contacts. And Tessa. I’d still have Tessa. My best friend forever, except that forever apparently has an end after all. Maybe I’d be dating that Peter guy. He’s not a billionaire, but he’s an architect at a major firm. He does all right. Who needs a private jet anyway? Or a private driver? I’ll settle for a guy with a decent car. Who needs to be tied up? Spanked? Choked? I never did. I was content before. Except that I wasn’t. I was never challenged. And Braden? He challenges me. Not just in everyday, run-of-the-mill ways, either. He challenges my very way of thinking. He challenges my concept of myself. He dares me to try new things. Things…

From around the side of the next vehicle, a white truck, stepped a figure dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt—and a ski mask. Ava gasped and stumbled back, letting her purse fall to the ground as he lifted his hand. She kicked out, her foot slamming against his forearm. The object in his gloved fist clattered to the ground. A yell escaped him, and he lunged. “Ava!” Ava heard her name as she dodged her attacker’s attempt to grab her. She lashed out with the heel of her palm and caught the attacker’s chin beneath the mask. He roared his displeasure and staggered back. Ava spun to run, but a hand closed over her wrist, jerking her off-balance. She hit the ground hard on her back, the breath whooshing from her lungs. She lay stunned, while her mind screamed at her to move. He loomed over her, wrapped a hand around the material of her shirt at the base of her throat, and drew back a fist. Fear wanted to smother her, but anger slid past the initial shock, even as pounding footsteps grabbed her attention. “Hey! Let her go! Get away from her!” Her attacker halted, released his hold,…

Zeke Montgomery knew Morgan West was going to be trouble the minute he laid eyes on her. She stood at the foot of the steps to her own front door — the front door he’d been waiting outside of for the past couple of hours, not that he’d been counting or anything — with her arms folded, looking sternly at him like he was a little kid who’d just drawn on her walls with a crayon. She was very small and wore a not particularly flattering uniform of dark brown pants and khaki shirt, with a dark brown parka that nearly swallowed her thrown over the top. And her strawberry blond hair, the color of which reminded him of apricots, was in a very severe ponytail down her back. She wore no makeup, her face freckled and wholesome, with those bright blue eyes, the ones he remembered from Cal’s funeral that had been red from weeping then, but were much brighter now. They were also very, very direct. And she was still the prettiest thing he’d seen for months, if not years. All of which spelled trouble with a capital ’T’. She said crossly, “Where on earth have you been,…

Hi! Thanks so much to Fresh Fiction for inviting me to share a scene from my upcoming release, UNDERCOVER ENGAGEMENT. In terms of setting this up, Eden and Swain are law enforcement officers who detest each other but are forced to partner as an engaged couple for an undercover sting operation. They’re at a local bar trying to make contact with the targets of the sting. She’s mad at him. He deserves it. Here’s his version of an apology… *** “Aw, c’mon, choux,” Swain called to her over the music. “Don’t be like that. Dance with me. They’re playin’ our song.” She sat there facing him, arms and legs crossed, one booted foot bouncing like she was ready to kick him to the curb. “I wouldn’t dance with you if you were the last person in this place.” “I’ll dance with you, Eden,” Dobie offered. “Hey, man.” Swain sent him an exasperated look. “I’m workin’ an apology here.” Eden smiled at Dobie and then turned her stern look on him. “After what you said, it’s going to take way more than an apology.” Nose in the air, she added, “I don’t really think you’re up to the task.” Perfect. Did…

A loud crash and the sound of glass shattering cut her off, and my head snapped toward the bar. Our bartender, the guy with the eyes, was leaning over, gripping his leg. Blood trickled toward his ankle, and shards of the broken bottle surrounded his feet in a puddle of fizzy pink wine. I leaned over the bar. “Are you okay?” I shouted. He looked over at me. “I’m bleeding.” “I see that.” I glanced at Kelly, looking for permission. “Go,” she said, waving her hand. “Be the superhero. We’ll talk later.” “No.” I grabbed my purse and headed toward the injured patient. “Come with me. We’ll talk while I clean him up.” The bartender’s eyes widened in shock and concern. “What?” “I’m a doctor.” I motioned to one of the waiters working the tables. “Can someone clean this up, please?” The bartender tilted his head in disbelief as his eyes scanned my ensemble. “She is a doctor,” Kelly said, glancing at her phone, “and a damn expensive one, too. Consider yourself lucky.” “Where’s the manager’s office?” I asked, glancing around. “That way.” The bartender nodded toward a closed door in the hallway off to the right of the bar….

From Chapter Two… “Here, let me switch out the glasses to something more civilized,” Tara said, reaching for his snifter. They were going to pass out before the game got interesting if they chugged from their full-sized glasses. “And we’ll both drink the white ale to keep the alcohol level even.” “Sounds like a plan. Should I start?” He rubbed his hands together like he was relishing the thought of annihilating her. How precious. “Truth or dare?” “Truth.” She crossed her arms in the universal bring-it-on gesture. “When was your first kiss and with whom?” he asked with a friendly smile. “Seriously? You just went there?” Her arms dropped limply to her sides. Tara felt warmth seeping up from her neck and spreading to her cheeks. She was a late bloomer, and her first kiss hadn’t been until college with her first boyfriend. She never spoke about Jason. He had been her first everything, including her first heartbreak. He’d done such a thorough job of it that she’d buried her heart deep inside so no one could touch it again. It took her a year of friendship and a lot of beer before she’d even told Aubrey about the abusive…

The screen door swung open. Della came out into the alley. “Hey there,” Della said. She fished a half-smoked joint out of the pocket of her faded plaid shirt and lit up. “I thought you’d be long gone. You forget something?” Della was planning to work a double shift again. Brutal hours, but she didn’t have a choice. The bank was threatening foreclosure on her house. “No. I was just daydreaming.” Sarah pushed away from the building. Della nodded, took a long toke, then tipped the joint toward Sarah. “Want a hit?” Sarah shook her head. “Thanks for the offer though.” Even though she didn’t smoke, she was touched by the generosity of the gesture. “See you tomorrow,” Sarah called over her shoulder as she headed past the sour-smelling dumpster. “Yup.” Della leaned her bony hip against the building, took another long toke, shut her eyes, and tipped her face up to capture the late-afternoon sun. As Sarah turned left out of the back alley onto E. Knoxville street, she could see Della, eyes still shut, exhaling a long, slow stream of smoke into the air. Sarah walked on. A gray pickup truck rumbled by, but other than that, it…

“Why did you marry me, Maggie?” His voice was gritty and dripped with raw vulnerability. She whipped around to face him. He stood just out of reach with arms splayed gently to his sides. Sweat and sawdust glistened on his skin and thin lines of wet dampened his shirt where it clung against the curves of his chest. “It was the first thing I ever did for myself,” she whispered to him. Her honesty hit her in the gut. Her only taste of freedom had been with him. Free to make her own choices and to love unequivocally, even in the most profound ways. “Love” was a strong word. But so was “forever.” She stepped forward. The harsh light made the edges of his face sharp and distorted, and she found herself reaching up to brush away the hard shadow from his chin with the tips of her fingers. He caught them with his own and held them for a moment, pressing them against the angle of his jaw. The hair there prickled the tender skin of her wrist and she pulled back slightly, unsure as to why she’d done that in the first place. “I’d never pushed boundaries like…

She runs to the car. When she reaches Josh, she grabs his elbow, startling him. He takes a swing at her. The back of his hand connects with her cheekbone. She rears back, palm cupped over her cheek. “Ow.” She rubs the burn from her face. “What was that for?”  Josh points at the car. “Go.”  “I’m not leaving you.” He’s scared and confused, she won’t walk away from him.  “Go.” He reaches for the passenger door, and she realizes he’s telling her he wants them to leave.  “All right, we’ll go.” He opens the door again and drops into the passenger seat.  She starts to close his door and stops. “That man in the picture, you sure you’ve seen him before?” she asks with trepidation, hoping she’s wrong. That he’s wrong, and he’s mistaking Dwight for someone else. Josh nods. “He’s my dad, your grandfather.”  A tear rolls down his face. “I know.”  Olivia feels a sting in her eyes. It hurts to breathe, like she’s cracked a rib. “When did you meet him?”  “Before.” He touches the spot on his hat that covers his scar.  Before his head injury.  Olivia glances away. Oh. God. She takes a breath….