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Tag Archives: new release

New Release! Power and Persuasion: A Gilded Age BDSM Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Historical #BDSM #Dominance #Submission #Surrender #Bondage #Discipline #Newport #GildedAge #Billionaire #EnemiesToLovers

Power and PersuasionBlurb

She’s his natural enemy – and the only woman who can satisfy his perverse sexual needs.

Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with the daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire: a submissive partner to share his life.

Labor activist Olivia Alcott is dedicated to helping the exploited factory workers responsible for Andrew’s wealth. The strike she organizes triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another: his need to command and hers to surrender.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound under the title Challenge to Him. It has been revised, expanded by two chapters, and re-edited for this release.

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09HSS7C6T

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09HSS7C6T

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1108116

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/power-and-persuasion-lisabet-sarai/1140290642?ean=2940165040306

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/power-and-persuasion-a-gilded-age-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/59240690-power-and-persuasion

*****

Excerpt:

“Mademoiselle Olivia!” A skinny girl raced up the street that led to the riverside mill, stirring clouds of dust. “Il vient! He is coming!”

The sputtering racket of an internal combustion engine drowned out the girl’s excited voice. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for a boxy vehicle of shiny black, with silvery headlamps like extruded eyes. The noisy Studebaker rolled to a stop in front of the strikers, who stopped in their tracks like everyone else to stare at it.

The door creaked open. A tall man unfolded himself from the somewhat cramped interior, snatched off his hat and goggles and tossed them into the vehicle. He strode towards the massed strikers, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Where is she? Where’s your damned leader?”

The newspapers generally described Andrew MacIntyre as handsome. The epithet did not do him justice. As he stormed towards her, Olivia was struck with a sense of physical power and keen intelligence. He had wavy red-gold hair, a high forehead, a square chin, a determined mouth. His eyes were hazel, deep set under brows darker than his hair. Those eyes drilled into her, fierce and compelling. The women around her shrank backwards in alarm. Olivia steeled herself, holding her ground and fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. Instead of retreating, she took a step forward, holding out her hand.

“Mr. Andrew MacIntyre, I presume?” She marveled at the steadiness of her voice, the cool neutral tone.

“Damned right. And you are…?”

“Olivia Alcott.” She pulled herself up to her full height and forced herself to meet his gaze. She saw anger simmering there, but behind his irritation there was something else, something that intrigued and thrilled her. Something that she might be able to use to further her goals.

Olivia Alcott recognized lust when she saw it.

He towered over her by at least a head. Though his body was hidden by his loose touring coat, his decisive, economical movements suggested he was lean and athletic. For a moment he hesitated, staring at her proffered hand. When he finally accepted it, his firm grip confirmed her impression of strength. His palm felt warm and dry against hers. She suddenly wished that she were not so sticky and disheveled. When he released her, a momentary lightness swept through her, as though she might float away.

“And can I assume that you are the instigator and cause of this illegal strike, Miss Alcott?” He seemed flustered, less confident than she would have expected. Her spirits rose.

“Instigator? Perhaps. But not the cause.” Sweat trickled from her hairline, down into her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“Here.” He surprised her by offering a crisp handkerchief of fine linen, of a white so pure it almost seemed to shine with its own light. The initials ‘AM’ were embroidered in the corner, in golden thread. A faint scent of lavender reached her nostrils.

“Why, thank you!” The square of cloth was far more effective than her hand. When she’d mopped the perspiration from her face, she held out the swatch of now-damp fabric. “Here you are.”

He waved dismissively. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens more. Let’s get back to the matter at hand.”

“How much did this handkerchief cost, Mr. MacIntyre?”

“I have no idea. My secretary handles my personal expenses.”

“It’s imported linen, I suspect. Belgian, perhaps?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Look, Miss Alcott—”

“And the monogram looks like real gold. Is it?”

“Honestly, what does that have to do with anything?”

Olivia tucked the handkerchief into her bodice, noting that MacIntyre’s eyes followed the movement. Indeed he didn’t try to hide his survey of her figure, rude as it was. Another tremor of strangeness fluttered in her belly.

“I’m no expert—I don’t have anything so fine myself—but I’d estimate that each of the dozens of handkerchiefs like this that you possess cost at least ten dollars.”

“Ah—really I don’t know—perhaps. Something in that vicinity.”

“That’s about two weeks of salary for one of these women who work here in your factory.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The cause of the strike, Mr. MacIntyre. You asked about the cause of the strike. These poor women—your employees, sir, to whom you have a certain responsibility—generally make five dollars a week. They’d have to work for two weeks—twelve days, twelve hours per day—to afford one of your handkerchiefs. Do you think this is just?”

“Well, they should be grateful they have jobs.” MacIntyre leaned closer, his manner and his voice menacing. “And if you don’t stop your meddling, they won’t. I’ll fire every single one of them in a minute. There are plenty of people who’d be happy for steady work, for a reputable company that’s not about to go bust and put them out on the street.”

“Won’t you consider raising their salaries, Mr. MacIntyre?” Olivia countered, inserting a bit of sweetness into her own voice. She laid her hand on his upper arm and felt his muscles shift under her fingers. “An additional dollar a week would make a big difference to them.”

“I’m running a business here, Miss Alcott, not a charity.” He pulled away from her grasp and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, then stepped past her to speak to the assembled workers.

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Rajasthani Moon by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #steampunk #bondage #discipline #Victorian #BDSM #India #Bollywood #BBW #analsex #curse #espionage #dirigible #menage #shifter

Blurb

A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon.

A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle torture and delight.

A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.

She has never faced such a challenge. 

When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. Instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.

Kidnapped by the ruler’s half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the handsome but depraved Rajah Amir, she soon finds herself fighting against her own lascivious nature as much as the schemes of her captors. Her sympathy for the moon-cursed wolf-man Pratan only complicates her situation. Cecily has never failed to complete an assignment, but now she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/363-rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09DBMLQQG

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1100493

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rajasthani-moon-lisabet-sarai/1140045684?ean=2940165000041

Kobohttps://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/rajasthani-moon-steampunk-shifter-bdsm-romance

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58835067-rajasthani-moon

*****

Rajasthani MoonExcerpt:

The brigand’s headquarters turned out to be a cave hollowed from the side of a mountain. After tethering his horse to a stunted tree near the entrance, he slung Cecily over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carried her inside. His casual handling of her body both inflamed and enraged her, but she remained quiet, observing her surroundings with care in the hope of discerning some means of escape.

The interior was less dirty and claustrophobic than she had feared. An uneven ceiling arched over their heads, reinforced by pillars fashioned from whole tree trunks. Oil lamps tucked into niches hewn into the walls dispelled most of the shadows. A wooden table, two chairs and a bedstead, all of rustic construction, constituted the only furnishings. However, to her left, on a natural rock shelf, she was surprised to see a sleek, modern com unit. Its low hum mingled with a faint gurgle of running water, coming from somewhere deeper in the cave. In the shadows she noticed a cage fashioned of iron bars, of the sort she’d seen used to transport sheep and goats. Does he keep animals here? she wondered. There was no barnyard scent.

He dumped her without ceremony onto the straw-filled mattress, then unsheathed his knife. Before she could even cry out, he had sliced her filthy, rumpled clothing off her body, pulled the fabric from underneath her, and tossed the bright rags into a corner. He also relieved her of the knife strapped to her arm and her other earring.

He paused to ogle her nakedness, the dark eyes above his mask burning with lust. Cecily’s nipples peaked and her cunny moistened in response to his brazen inspection—she couldn’t help herself—and she was uncomfortably certain that her reactions were not lost on him.

Using her bound arms, she managed to manoeuvre herself into a sitting position, with her bound legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He watched, neither assisting nor hindering her, clearly amused by her awkward progress. Refusing to be cowed, she answered his bold stare with one of her own.

He was the one to break the silence. “So, my lady. Tell me now. Whom do I have the honour of entertaining here in my humble abode?”

“Why should I reveal my identity to someone who will not even show me his face?” Cecily stalled for time, trying to work out a plan.

“A reasonable point. Pardon me.” The man untied the cloth that hid his features, revealing a beak of a nose, black whiskers and lips that curled in a sardonic smile.

“You!”Cecily cursed inwardly as soon as the word escaped.

“You know me, woman?” His eyes narrowed and his brows drew together into a scowl.

“I–I have seen your picture, sir—in the Bombay newspapers…”

What was the Rajah’s brother doing, hiding away in a miserable hole like this? Why didn’t he have any servants or retainers? Why had he attacked her carriage? These questions and a dozen more assailed her. Meanwhile, she struggled to offer a coherent excuse.

“My brother recommended that I should contact you, Your Excellency, when I arrived in Jaipur… He wishes to establish relationships with your weavers, to purchase your justifiably renowned textiles, but owing to his failing health, he sent me in his stead…”

“Nonsense!”His voice was like thunder. “Do not insult my intelligence! You’re no merchant, madam! Who are you really? Or do I have to beat the truth out of you?”

Cecily kept her mouth closed. Like all Her Majesty’s agents, she’d been trained not to break under torture. Thus far, that training had never been put to the test.

Pratan seized her by her long hair and hauled her to her feet. Of course, with her ankles bound, she could not walk. Half pulling, half carrying, he bundled her over to the closest pillar, jerked her bound arms up, then pushed her face first against the rough wood. The bark abraded her naked breasts and belly. She tried to squirm away from him, but he leaned his weight against her back while keeping her wrists pinned against the pillar above her head.

“Rebind,” he growled. In a flash the robotic rope unravelled and reconfigured itself, looping tight around both her arms and the column supporting her. Once he was certain she was secure, he dropped to his knees and touched the rope at her ankles. “Unbind.”

Cecily stumbled as the force connecting her ankles disappeared. Her relief at being free was short-lived. Pratan dragged her legs apart and inserted some sort of rigid bar between her shins. “Bind.” Before she could take two breaths, her legs were restrained in a permanently spread position, wide enough to allow her captor easy access to her sex.

Indeed, realising the degree of her exposure made her terribly aware of her quim, which she could not deny was soaked and swollen. You must be strong, she told herself. Think of England.

The cool air of the cave teased her bared flesh. Then a light touch, delicate as a feather, traced its way along the inside of her thigh. Her pussy clenched and moisture dribbled out. The impudent finger smeared the juice across her sensitive skin. Pleasure sparked through her.

“You can’t fight me.” His voice was like warm honey now, all the anger gone. It flowed through her, unbearably sweet. “And I don’t think you want to. There’s no shame in surrendering when you’ve been rendered completely helpless.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

New Release: The Persecution of the Wolves #wolves #werewolves #shifters #paranormal

Hi lovelies,

I’m delighted to announce the re-release of The Persecution of the Wolves (which has also been known as Pack of Lies), my werewolf thriller novel set in Eyam, Derbyshire. It has both M/F and M/M scenes, lots of tension, and will keep you guessing. I wrote it a looong time ago, but I thoroughly enjoyed going through it again and giving it a polish up and an update. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it, too.

Blurb:

Someone’s got it in for the Adams brothers. But who? And why?

Werewolf brothers Matthew and Isaac have lived in the peaceful village of Eyam, Derbyshire all their lives. The villagers know what they are, and have their reasons for keeping quiet. But this secrecy comes at a cost—the brothers can’t risk romantic entanglements.

Then, at the next full moon, a sheep is slaughtered on Eyam Moor, by what could only be a large animal. Even the brothers’ staunchest supporters begin to have their doubts about who—or what—could have done it.

As the brothers fight to clear their names, things are complicated by unexpected opportunities to indulge their lust. Isaac is intrigued by a handsome newcomer to the village, and a vivacious visitor is happy to offer Matthew her all.

Can the men prove their innocence, or is their centuries-old secret about to be revealed to the outside world, bringing their carefully crafted existence crashing down around their ears?

Please note: This book has been previously published. This version has been re-edited.

Grab your copy here:

eBook:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA
Apple Books UK
Apple Books US
Barnes & Noble
Eden Books
Google Play
Kobo
Smashwords

Print:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon CA
Amazon AU

Happy Reading!
Lucy x

New Release! Monsoon Fever: A Multicultural Romance by Lisabet Sarai (@lisabetsarai) #Menage #Polyamory #Bisexual #Threesome #India #Assam #MMFRomance #TheGreatWar #WWI #BritishEmpire #Hinduism

Monsoon FeverBlurb

When a charismatic Indian lawyer arrives at their remote Assamese tea plantation, he tempts a married couple with forbidden carnal delights.

In the early years of their marriage, Priscilla and Jonathan eagerly indulged their physical desires, but now that passion has dwindled. Childlessness and the horrors of the Great War have taken a toll on their relationship. Though Priscilla still aches for Jon’s touch, he seems preoccupied with settling his father’s affairs in India, so they can sell the plantation they’ve inherited and return to England.

Anil Kumar served as solicitor to Jon’s father. Arriving unannounced, drenched by a monsoon deluge, he enchants both Priscilla and Jon with his beauty, poise and wisdom. In separate incidents, each of them succumbs to Anil’s lustful attentions. Will the illicit cravings excited by the handsome Indian be the final stroke that destroys their marriage? Or the route to saving it?

Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised and re-edited for this release.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0994WZP4B

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0994WZP4B

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1093764

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/monsoon-fever-lisabet-sarai/1139827649?ean=2940164960315

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/monsoon-fever-a-multicultural-romance

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58554176-monsoon-fever

*****

Excerpt

The next thing she knew, Jon was beside her, helping her to stand. He clutched her soapy form to his now-naked body and sealed her lips with his. Joy ballooned in her chest. It had been so long since she’d felt his decisive mouth or tasted his familiar flavour. She rubbed her breasts against him, smearing herself with his dirt. His rigid nipples poked at her chest. Below, she could feel his cock stiffening again, nudging into the gap between her thighs.

She opened her legs and tilted her pelvis toward him, inviting his entry. Then, all at once, a torrent of warm water poured down on their heads. They broke their kiss, sputtering in the surprise flood. Before they could respond, another bucketful drenched them.

“Anil!” Sputtering and laughing, Priscilla turned to find that the native was behind them. He too had shed his clothes. As she watched, he raised a pitcher and poured its contents over his own head.

The shower slicked his dark locks against his skull, emphasising the fine planes of his countenance. Rivulets coursed over his muscled shoulders and down his hairless chest. His skin looked oiled, cinnamon-hued and buttery smooth. Only in his groin did hair grow, in wild black tangles completely different from the golden fur at the base of Jonathan’s cock.

Priscilla’s palms itched with the need to caress that silky, dark skin, to mould Anil’s flat breasts and flick her thumbs across his chocolate-hued nipples. She saw herself kneeling in the puddle at his feet, swallowing his majestic penis. The urge to turn image into reality was overwhelming. Did she dare to act on her desire?

She glanced back at Jon. He too seemed transfixed by the sight of Anil’s glorious nakedness. His cock was fully erect once again. It twitched slightly, in rhythm perhaps with his racing pulse. His hands were clenched at his sides, but as Priscilla watched, he relaxed and began stroking himself. He swelled further.

She willed him to look away from Anil for a moment and to meet her gaze, with its unspoken question. He must have felt her thoughts. Their eyes locked, and for a moment Priscilla felt the old connection that they’d had at first, the sense that everything was understood. He nodded slightly, a half-smile playing on his lips.

She beamed her gratitude back at him, then turned back to Anil’s body. Lowering herself to the tiled floor, she grasped the Indian’s cock at the root and stroked it gently. The taut skin sheathing his hardness felt like silk. The bulb was scarcely wider than the shaft and peaked rather than round, like a blunted arrowhead. His foreskin puckered below it. Droplets clung to the tip, perhaps from the shower, perhaps his own secretions. Priscilla’s mouth watered at the sight.

She bent closer and pursed her lips around the bulb, tonguing the slit, sampling his moisture. The taste made her crave more. Opening wide, she engulfed him, sucking him deep into her mouth.

Anil hummed with pleasure. He laid a light hand on her damp curls, guiding but not forcing her as she slid her mouth along his length. He hardly thrust at all, though the increasing tension in his flesh made it clear that his excitement was peaking. Reaching between his legs, she cupped the velvety sacs hanging there, thrilled to feel them tighten as she brought him closer to the edge.

Her own body was on fire. Her nipples were points of flame, and her clit was a glowing ember no amount of wetness could quench, though her juices trickled down her splayed thighs onto the floor. Anil’s hands were on her shoulders now, kneading her flesh as she sucked rhythmically on his. He was nowhere near her sex, yet his touch sent hot shivers through her. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself skewered by the steely cock now sliding in and out of her mouth, and the image nearly sent her into her own climax. She sucked more strongly, nipping at the bulb each time she reached the apex. The native groaned, moments away from coming.

“Pru!” Jon’s voice was low and hoarse with lust, close to her ear. “Don’t let him spend. Don’t waste him. Let’s get to the bedroom.”

*****

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

New Release: Cut and Run (The Dreadnoughts Book Two) #reverseharem #rhromance #whychoose #ku #kindleunlimited

Hi everyone,

I’m delighted to announce the release of the second book in The Dreadnoughts reverse harem series, Cut and Run! It’s been a long time coming (I write way slower than I’d like!), but now it’s here I’m hoping you’ll check it out and find out what’s next for Kim and the gang. After a little breather, I will be starting on the next book in the series, so hopefully it won’t be such a long wait – but please bear with me!

Here’s the blurb:

Kim’s on track to save the world—but will she pay with her life?

Kim Medhurst, ex-British military intelligence officer turned scientist and climate activist, has a vitally important project on her hands. The mysterious object she set out to retrieve from the remote Scottish island has the potential to power the entire planet. All she needs to do is figure out exactly how to make it happen, and the Scottish Highlands seems the perfect place to complete her research in peace—as well as enjoy the company of the gorgeous Greig twins.

Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple. Someone knows what Kim’s up to and wants to get their hands on her and the object she now calls the ygrene. As if that wasn’t concerning enough, Chastain goes missing, spurring Kim and the others into action. The team’s newfound abilities come in handy as they attempt to find their friend and navigate the murky underworld of dirty energy and those who profit from it.

But, even with their powers, will they be a match for a greedy megalomaniac with no morals?

PLEASE NOTE: Cut and Run has a cliffhanger ending.

Grab your copy from Amazon, or read it in Kindle Unlimited (and please, please do leave a review when you’re done – they really help! 🙂 ):
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Amazon AU
Amazon CA

Happy Reading!

Lucy x

 

Out Today! – Accidental Homecoming by Sabrina York (@sabrina_york)

New York Times bestselling author Sabrina York kicks off her brand-new Stirling Ranch miniseries by asking does blood make you family?

Danny Diem’s life is upended when he inherits a small-town ranch. But learning he has a daughter in need of lifesaving surgery is his biggest shock yet. He’d never gotten over telling his ex Lizzie Michaels that he wasn’t the marrying kind. But her loving strength for their little girl tugs at his heartstrings—and makes him wonder if he’s ready to embrace the role he’s always run from: father.

From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.

READ AN EXCERPT

He broke the silence with four sharp words. “Why are you here?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” She did so herself, sliding into the banquette of his booth—her knees were about to give in, anyway.

He ignored her request. “Why are you here?”

“Danny, this is hard enough, and you’re not making it any easier for me—”

“Oh, I’m not making it easier for you? You’re the one who left me. No warning. Nothing. Just…gone. Poof.”

Irritation bubbled, and though she’d told herself she wouldn’t allow her anger to surface, she couldn’t help snapping, “There was plenty of warning. You weren’t paying attention.”

“Really? I was sure paying attention during our last fight. I remember that pretty clearly.”

“Do you? Do you remember what we fought about?”

His face went blank and he dropped into his seat, where he could face her, but not come too close. As though he were protecting himself from her.

What a laugh. She was the one who needed protecting. He was far too addictive for her own good.

“Why don’t you tell me what you remember?” he suggested.

She sighed. “We’d been talking about the future.”

“Ah, yes.” He settled back into his seat, his expression still mutinous.

“And you freaked out.”

He frowned. “I did not freak out.”

“You made it pretty clear we had no future together.”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I didn’t want marriage.”

“Or kids.”

“And can you blame me? With parents like mine? What kind of father would I be?”

That comment hit her like a blow. Stole her breath. Made her question her own sanity for coming here.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed at all.

“And my mother?” he continued harshly. “Did Darla tell you what my mother has done now?”

“She said she skipped bail.”

He barked a bitter laugh. “Skipped bail, then skipped town. But before she disappeared, she cleaned out my bank accounts, and my apartment. She hocked everything I own. Everything I’ve worked for.”

Anger raged in Lizzie’s heart. The woman truly had no moral compass.

“You’re not like your mother.” She’d told him that a thousand times, but too many years raised by that horrible woman had clouded his self-image.

“And then, there’s the father. The man who wanted nothing to do with me. The man who wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence. He certainly didn’t support us.”

“You’re not like him, either.” She hoped…

He shook his head and scrubbed his face with his palms. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Not anymore.” She hated his expression, the resignation and the pain. “So, why are you here?” The question again, this time, whispered.

She might as well just dive in. “I…need your help.”

He frowned again. “What do you want?”

Her heart stuttered. Oh, Lord. Now that the time was here, she didn’t know what to say. Or how to say it. Or anything.

Danny waited, silently, watching her. Then his lips tweaked into a hint of a sad smile. “You’re procrastinating, Lizzie. You never procrastinate unless it’s something bad.”

Her expression must have given something away because he paled.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. And no. It’s not bad. Not bad at all. Well, not all bad. There is some bad, I suppose. But it’s…” She trailed off. She was babbling—she knew she was. It was yet another way she avoided unpleasant topics.

Danny pinned her with a sharp look. “What is it you want to tell me?”

She wrinkled her nose. “About that last fight had—””

“What about it?” His tone was tight, as though the words were bitter on his tongue.

Right. “The one where you told me you didn’t want marriage or children.” She tried not to sound bitter as well, but failed.

“For good reason,” he snapped.

“Right,” she snapped right back. Then she met his gaze as bravely as she could. “Well, I was pregnant.”

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Don’t Miss Book 2: Recipe for a Homecoming
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0917JZHR5
Releases September 28th

 

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