From #1 New York Times bestselling author Abbi Glines comes the story of Grant, the sexy playboy who first captured readers’ hearts in Fallen Too Far.

When Harlow Manning’s rocker father goes on tour, he sends her to Rosemary Beach, Florida, to live with her half-sister, Nan. The problem: Nan despises her. Harlow has to keep her head down if she wants to get through the next nine months, which seems easy enough. Until gorgeous Grant Carter walks out of Nan’s room in nothing but his boxer briefs.

Grant made a huge mistake getting involved with a girl with venom in her veins. He’d known about Nan’s reputation, but still he couldn’t resist her. Nothing makes him regret the fling more than meeting Harlow, who sends his pulse racing. Yet Harlow wants nothing to do with a guy who could fall for her wicked half-sister, even if there are no strings between Grant and Nan. Grant is desperate to redeem himself in Harlow’s eyes, but did he ruin his chances before he even met her?

From the # 1 New York Times bestselling author of Breaking Nova comes a gripping story about what it takes to save the one you love . . .

Nova Reed can’t forget him-Quinton Carter, the boy with the honey-brown eyes who made her realize she deserved more than an empty life. His pain was so similar to her own. But Nova has been coming to terms with her past and healing, while Quinton is out there somewhere, sinking deeper. She’s determined to find him and help him . . . before it’s too late.

Nova has haunted his dreams for nearly a year-but Quinton never thought a sweet, kind person like her would care enough about a person like him. To Quinton, a dark, dangerous life is exactly what he deserves. And Nova has no place in it. But Nova has followed him to Las Vegas, and now he must do whatever it takes to keep her away, to maintain his self-imposed punishment for the unforgivable things he’s done. But there’s one flaw in his plan: Nova isn’t going anywhere . . .

He’s thirty-eight. I’m twenty-three.

He speaks Spanish. I speak English.

He lives in Spain. I live in Canada.

He dresses in thousand-dollar suits. I’m covered in tattoos.

He’s married and has a five-year old daughter.

I’m single and can’t commit to anyone or anything.

Until now. Because when they say you can’t choose who you fall in love with, boy ain’t that the f*#king truth.

***

To a restless dreamer like Vera Miles, it sounded like the experience of a lifetime. Instead of spending her summer interning for her astronomy major, she would fly to Spain where she’d spend a few weeks teaching conversational English to businessmen and women, all while enjoying free room and board at an isolated resort. But while Vera expected to get a tan, meet new people and stuff herself with wine and paella, she never expected to fall in love.

Mateo is unlike anyone Vera has ever known, let alone anyone she’s usually attracted to. While Vera is a pierced and tatted free spirit with a love for music and freedom, Mateo Casales is a successful businessman from Madrid, all sharp suits and cocky Latino charm. Yet, as the weeks go on, the two grow increasingly close and their relationship changes from purely platonic to something…more.

Something that makes Vera feel alive for the first time.

Something that can never, ever be.

Or so she thinks.

When Bree Prescott arrives in the sleepy, lakeside town of Pelion, Maine, she hopes against hope that this is the place where she will finally find the peace she so desperately seeks. On her first day there, her life collides with Archer Hale, an isolated man who holds a secret agony of his own. A man no one else sees.

Archer’s Voice is the story of a woman chained to the memory of one horrifying night and the man whose love is the key to her freedom. It is the story of a silent man who lives with an excruciating wound and the woman who helps him find his voice. It is the story of suffering, fate, and the transformative power of love.

The highly anticipated finale to the #1 New York Timesbestselling trilogy that began with A Discovery of Witches

After traveling through time in Shadow of Night, the second book in Deborah Harkness’s enchant­ing series, historian and witch Diana Bishop and vampire scientist Matthew Clairmont return to the present to face new crises and old enemies. At Matthew’s ancestral home at Sept-Tours, they re­unite with the cast of characters from A Discovery of Witches—with one significant exception. But the real threat to their future has yet to be revealed, and when it is, the search for Ashmole 782 and its miss­ing pages takes on even more urgency. In the tril­ogy’s final volume, Harkness deepens her themes of power and passion, family and caring, past deeds and their present consequences. In ancestral homes and university laboratories, using ancient knowl­edge and modern science, from the hills of the Auvergne to the palaces of Venice and beyond, the couple at last learn what the witches discovered so many centuries ago.

With more than one million copies sold in the United States and appearing in thirty-eight foreign editions and translations, A Discovery of Witchesand Shadow of Night have landed on all of the major bestseller lists and garnered rave reviews from countless publications. Eagerly awaited by Harkness’s legion of fans, The Book of Life brings this superbly written series to a deeply satisfying close.

New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh returns to her phenomenal Psy-Changeling world as a woman in peril finds herself in the arms of a dangerously beautiful shapeshifter…

San Francisco is under threat from a violent gang…a gang that has no idea who they’re challenging. The DarkRiver pack of leopard changelings has already claimed the city as their territory, and they will fight with wild fury to protect its residents. Emmett, a lethally trained leopard soldier, isn’t about to let outsiders muscle in on his home ground—especially when they target a human named Ria.

Emmett has one word for the smart stranger with her curvy body and tough spirit: mine.

Possessive, dominant, unyielding in his demands and desires, Emmett is unlike anyone Ria has ever before met. But while the sexy leopard changeling makes her body ignite, his kisses molten and his touch addicting, she’s no pushover and she has a few demands of her own. This leopard has met his match…

I’m mindlessly tapping my feet and singing along to his music with my made-up lyrics when he stops playing mid-song. He never stops mid-song, so naturally, I glance in his direction. He’s leaning forward, staring right at me. He holds up his index finger, as if to say, Hold on, and he sets his guitar beside him and runs into his apartment.
What the hell is he doing?
And oh, my God, why does the fact that he’s acknowledging me make me so nervous?
He comes back outside with paper and a marker in his hands.
He’s writing. What the hell is he writing?
He holds up two sheets of paper, and I squint to get a good look at what he’s written.
A phone number. Shit. His phone number? When I don’t move for several seconds, he shakes the papers and points at them, then points back to me. He’s insane. I’m not calling him. I can’t call him. I can’t do that to Hunter. The guy shakes his head, then grabs a fresh sheet of paper and writes something else on it, then holds it up.

Text me.

When I still don’t move, he flips the paper over and writes again.

I have a ?

A question. A text. Seems harmless enough. When he holds up the papers with his phone number again, I pull out my phone and enter his phone number. I stare at the screen for a few seconds, not really knowing what to say in the text, so I go with:

Me: What’s your question?

He looks down at his phone, and I can see him smile when he receives my text. He drops the paper and leans back in his chair, typing. When my phone vibrates, I hesitate a second be- fore looking down at it.

Him: Do you sing in the shower?

I shake my head, confirming my initial suspicion. He’s a flirt. Of course he is, he’s a musician.

Me: I don’t know what kind of question that is, but if this is your attempt at flirting, I’ve got a boyfriend. Don’t waste your time.

I hit send and watch him read the text. He laughs, and this irritates me. Mostly because his smile is so . . . smiley. Is that even a word? I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s as if his whole face smiles right along with his mouth. I wonder what that smile looks like up close.

Him: Believe me, I know you have a boyfriend, and this is definitely not how I flirt. I just want to know if you sing in the shower. I happen to think highly of people who sing in the shower and need to know the answer to that question in order to decide if I want to ask you my next question.

I read the lengthy text, admiring his fast typing. Guys aren’t normally as skilled as girls when it comes to speed-texting, but his replies are almost instantaneous.

Me: Yes, I sing in the shower. Do you sing in the shower?

Him: No, I don’t.

Me: How can you think highly of people who sing in the shower if you don’t sing in the shower?

Him: Maybe the fact that I don’t sing in the shower is why I think highly of people who do sing in the shower.

This conversation isn’t going anywhere.

Me: Why did you need this vital piece of information from me?

He stretches his legs out and props his feet up on the edge of the patio, then stares at me for a few seconds before returning his attention to his phone.

Him: I want to know how you’re singing lyrics to my songs when I haven’t even added lyrics to them yet.

My cheeks instantly heat from embarrassment. Busted.
I stare at his text, then glance up at him. He’s watching me, expressionless.
Why the hell didn’t I think that he could see me sitting out here? I never thought he would notice me singing along to his music. Hell, until last night, I never thought he even noticed me. I inhale, wishing I’d never made eye contact with him to begin with. I don’t know why I find this embarrassing, but I do. It seems as if I’ve invaded his privacy in some way, and I hate that.

Me: I tend to favor songs with lyrics, and I was tired of wondering what the lyrics to your songs were, so I guess I made up a few of my own.

He reads the text, then glances up at me without a hint of his infectious smile. I don’t like his serious glances. I don’t like what they do to my stomach. I also don’t like what his smiley smile does to my stomach. I wish he would stick to a simple, unattractive, emotionless expression, but I’m not sure he’s ca- pable of that.

Him: Will you send them to me?

Oh, God. Hell, no.

Me: Hell, no.

Him: Please?

Me: No.

Him: Pretty please?

Me: No, thank you.

Him: What’s your name?

Me: Sydney. Yours?

Him: Ridge.

KISS THE SKY — EXCERPT — Rose’s POV

“I struggle to keep my eyes on his. I am so aware of the people in the room, of the cameras, of the fact that he’s on top of me, my legs hanging with uncertainty around him.

As his crotch digs into me, my nerves prickle, and my toes constrict in my high heels. Oh my God…

Is this really happening? In front of everyone? And soon-to-be nationally televised.

What did I get myself into?”

We both stood there panting,  our faces so close, but yet, not touching; him in his tux with the purple brocade vest, me in my vintage inspired lace wedding dress, the sexual tension crackling in the air between us like a raging electrical storm about to go nuclear.

I told Ethan what I wanted.

“I n-need to get ready for you,” I managed on a shaky breath, hoping he understood this was something important to me.

He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple flex at his throat.  “All right,” he said slowly.  “I’ll do the same.”

I looked back to where the glow from the en suite bathroom showed me the way.  “Where will you go?” I asked him, feeling slightly guilty about kicking him out, even if for just a short while.

“The adjoining bedroom is also very nice.”  He gestured toward a door in the wall to the left of the bed.  “These old manor houses always had lord and lady connecting bedrooms so they could meet up for the real important, private stuff that happened in the night.”  He drew a finger across the low neckline of my bodice, moving especially slow over the swell of my breasts sitting against the lace of my gown.

“Oh?  The important private stuff you say.”

“Undoubtedly, baby.  The shagging…is…very…very…very…important.”  He gave me soft, seductive kisses between each of the words.

“Which room are we in right now?  Lord’s or lady’s?” I asked breathlessly.

He shrugged.  “No idea.  Don’t care either.  I shag and sleep wherever my lady is, and I always will.  Pick a room, Mrs. Blackstone.”

I sighed with need and forced myself to take a step backward, creating some distance between our bodies.  “Okay…how does this room in fifteen minutes sound?” I stepped backward again, moving closer toward the bathroom door, my eyes never leaving his blues as they tracked my movements.

Those same beautiful blue eyes also glittered at me with all the shuttered heat of a man who would be ravishing me very soon.  Please, and thank you.

He gave me the serious Ethan-stare, the one I’d seen many times and was well familiar with—the one raw with male prowess…and the overpowering sexual dominance.

“Like fifteen minutes too fucking long, my beauty.”

UnBeloved Teaser
By Madeline Sheehan
© Madeline Sheehan Books 2014

Grinning, Cox raised his glass in the air. “To Prez,” he said, “for giving all us idiots a home, and to Eva…” Shifting his gaze to Eva, he flashed her a wide, genuine smile, far different than his typical shit-eating grin.

“To Eva,” he repeated, “for makin’ us a family.”

“You’re a goddamn woman,” Ripper muttered, punching him the arm. “You know that, yeah?”

Ignoring Ripper’s jab, Cox whirled around to face the bar. “And to Blue!” he shouted, “for always takin’ the best seat at the bar, for always hidin’ the Patrón where I couldn’t find it, for never shuttin’ the fuck up and mindin’ his own damn business, for—”

“Dibs on Blue’s seat!” Ripper shouted. Shoving Cox out of his way, he took off running for the bar.

© Madeline Sheehan Books 2014

He grabs the drink from my hand and slams the plastic cup down on the floor, splattering its pink liquid all over a group of guys standing a little too close while watching the action unfold. X tugs me behind him, effectively putting a wall of muscle between Jared and I, shielding me with his body. He stares down at Jared, his fingers flexing into fists at his sides like he’s ready to rip into my would-be dance partner. “You think I didn’t see what you put in her drink back there, motherf**ker? There’s no way in hell I’m going to allow a little pecker-stain like you to attempt to drug this girl and get away with it.” All the blood drains from Jared’s face, leaving his skin pale while his mouth hangs open in shock. At first I think there’s no way a nice guy like Jared would do that, but when he doesn’t deny the accusations instantly, I know he’s guilty.

X shakes his head in disgust. “You just gave me the green light to end your f**king world.”

His hands wrapped around my throat and slammed me against the wall.

I dropped the sheets and fought. My nails raked along his forearm, drawing blood instantly. The scar on his cheek only amplified the empty tomb of a soul inside him. His eyes showed nothing. No remorse. No excitement. Nothing.

My heart galloped as his fingers squeezed tighter. It was as if he wasn’t there. A robot. A well-oiled machine.

So, I did the only thing available to me.

I pushed off the wall and fought his devoidness with humanity. I kissed him. I bit him. I fought him.

And his fingers instantly loosened the noose and I slithered to the floor in shock. Lucky number third. This scarred stranger was the third man who ever dared hurt me against my will and he would pay.

Not by police or a judge, but by me. I took care of me. No one else.

Standing on shaky feet I launched into his body, tackling him to the bed. I expected a fight, but he did nothing. Nothing until I punched him square in the legs.

Then life exploded into his vacant eyes. The pain woke him from whatever slumber he’d been in and instead of the monster who just attacked me, a bomb of confusion and horror erupted in his eyes.

“Oh, my fucking God. I didn’t. Not again. Not again.”

Shoving me off him, he sat upright and clutched his skull in his hands. Rocking on the side of the bed he said. “It happened again.”

This man hurt my heart. Not because he’d shown me just how unstable he was, but because he looked on the edge of breaking. Holding onto his sanity with the slipperiest of grips, destined to fall down and down until he it lost completely.

I couldn’t let that happen. “Let me help you.”

And that’s when he lost it. Completely.

I look over at Carson as I sit back, and catch him staring at the strip of skin on my back where my shirt had ridden up.

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re a little slow on the uptake when it comes to this friendship thing, huh?”

He grins. “Practice makes perfect.”

After her former boyfriend left her pregnant and alone, Megan McKenzie swore off men. She spent the last eighteen months focused solely on her son, Mason, along with finishing nursing school at the top of her class. Although she’s not ready to complicate her life with a long-term relationship, a nice no-strings attached hook-up is just what she needs. At her godson, Noah’s, baptism, she finds the perfect candidate in the soft-spoken godfather, Pesh Nadeen. After all, the widower could use a good time too. But after drinking too much, the night doesn’t end the way she thought it would. Forced to leave Pesh’s house through a walk of shame, Megan hopes to never, ever see him again.

For Pesh Nadeen, the very sight of Megan sends him into an emotional tailspin. Since she reminds him too much of what he has lost, he wants to be out of her sight…at first. But the more he gets to know her, there’s something about the diminutive blonde that causes his protective side to go into overdrive, and he finds himself wanting more. When Megan is assigned to him to complete her nursing clinicals, he sees it as fate, but she’s having no part of it. She only wants a physical relationship while he wants far more.

What happens next is a sexy game of cat and mouse to see who will break first or if both of them will eventually get more than they ever bargained for.

“You know those days where you wake up from bed and you just can’t move? It feels as if your muscles are weighed by cinder blocks, chained to the mattress. And yet, it’s not slumber that keeps you motionless like a drug. It’s this sense that nothing is going to turn out okay. That everything in your life looks a little different, like a Picasso painting on crack. It’s crying without the tears, and screaming without the sound.I am rooted to everything and nothing at all.”

I haven’t done a “What are you working on?” update in a while. Why? Because I wasn’t sure if the story I was working on would ever see the light of day. Now that I am over halfway through writing it though, I am 99.9% sure I’m going to publish it.

So, what have I been working on? Kellan’s point of view of Thoughtless. Yes, I’m going to give you the story through his eyes, and let me tell you, it’s not always easy experiencing it through Kellan’s POV. I’ve cried more than once. It has been a lot of fun though, and I hope that you enjoy the companion piece to Thoughtless, which I have tentatively titled Thoughtful.

I’m currently writing the last third of the book, and I don’t have a street date for you yet. I also can’t predict when it might be available, since several different people will be involved with the process of choosing a release date: editors, publishers, cover designers, formatters, and more! Know that it’s coming though, and soon you’ll have more Kellan!

Pulled the third all-nighter in a row, and APOLONIA is finished. Oh, my. Oh, oh my. Lotsa romance. Lotsa angst! Lotsa action! Lotsa WHAT THE HELL IS MCGUIRE GOING TO THROW AT US NEXT?! This is the first time I’ve had to stop myself from going back and reading it because it’s so fun and get back to work so I could finish since Beautiful Disaster! I am really loving this one. Can’t wait to share it with you! Agh! I hate waiting!