Rule number one for a professional matchmaker?

Don’t fall in love with your client.

I screwed that up when I fell for my best friend, Reid Fortino. He’s gorgeous, successful, and sexy as hell. I figured it would be easy to find him a match—and save the family business at the same time.

But the more time I spend attempting to find the perfect girl, the more I realize how much I want him for my own. What’s the harm if we give in for just one night?

I should have known that would never be enough.

Now I’m on the verge of losing my job and my heart.

We were an imperfect match from the start, but I don’t know how to let him go.

New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Corinne Michaels is the author of nine romance novels. She’s an emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun loving mom of two beautiful children. Corinne is happily married to the man of her dreams and is a former Navy wife.

After spending months away from her husband while he was deployed, reading and writing was her escape from the loneliness. She enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak and finding a way to heal them through their struggles. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love.

USA Today Bestselling Author Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she’s not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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Some women are just forbidden.

Like—off the top of my head—MY SISTER’S LIFE-LONG BEST FRIEND.

Sis has made it patently clear that Vanessa is hands-off, as in keep my ladies’ man paws far away from her clever, go-getter best friend who’s ready for the real deal. That should be an easy guideline to follow, except Vanessa is deliciously flirty, easy to talk to, and laughs at my jokes. Translation – my libido has been craving her many, many years. So many that we might have stolen a kiss or two.

Can you say pent-up, crazy, raw desire?

That’s exactly what we’re both feeling when the storm of the century hits and it’s 10 inches of snow with Vanessa and me trapped in a cabin all night long…

The trouble is—Vanessa isn’t interested in my playboy ways, and I have one night to convince her that I’m the real deal.

~SHAW~

Some women are just forbidden. Like…oh, just off the top of my head…say, my sister’s lifelong best friend. Forbidden, as in if I touch her, it’s sayonara favorite-body-part.

Do I kid?

No, and I don’t want to test my sister’s resolve, so I stay far, far away from lovely Vanessa. Sweet Vanessa. Vanessa who wants the real deal. Keep your dirty hands off my best friend Vanessa.

Hey, that’s what my sister said.

Look, I’m not scared of my sister.

But I do respect her. I was raised right. I was taught respect, honor, and duty. And above all…family comes first. When Perri told me years ago she’d have my balls in a sling if I put my ladies’-man paws anywhere near her bestie, I listened, because I happen to like the boys a helluva lot.

Honestly, though, I followed her guidelines not just for the sake of my intact nuts. I did it because she asked. If it’s important to Perri that my dirty hands stay far, far away from Vanessa, I can abide by that.

I can resist sexy, alluring, flirty Vanessa.

Witty, clever, oh, look, there’s mistletoe above us Vanessa.

Oh, did I say that?

Well, Vanessa did, and I’ll never forget that Christmas party when we were home from college.

But I swear, it was only a kiss. A sweet, tantalizing, drive-my-body-insane-with-wanting-more kiss. I’ve mostly stayed away, and that’s not been easy, so give a man some points for stellar restraint.

Especially since I’ve had it bad for Vanessa for years.

As in decades.

But sometimes, over the decades, you slip a little bit when you want something. You bend to the left, to the right, and you steal another kiss. Fine, fine. There was one more time—a year ago, when we were at Vanessa’s bowling alley for New Year’s Eve party, lifting glasses and toasting to the new year.

It wasn’t like we got it on right there on the bowling ball return.

(It was beside the dartboard.)

And it was a chaste New Year’s kiss.

Too chaste for me.

When I was home alone in bed, though, nothing was innocent that night. In my mind, it was one hot, sexy, filthy kiss that made us both rip off clothes.

Except, even then, those words—balls in a sling—echoed.

I listened. I’ll keep listening. After all, it’s only lust I feel, right?

I can set that aside, no problem.

Until the weekend before my sister’s wedding…

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A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sweet, sexy and witty. Her heroines are strong and smart and her heroes have hearts of gold and fantastic funny bones. She lives in California with her family, including her smoking hot and hilarious husband and her two brilliant and kind children. She has plotted entire novels while walking her dogs — she might have four dogs, or maybe five. If she’s lucky, she’ll soon have six dogs. With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than 100 times, and she’s sold more than 3 million books. In April she’ll release NOBODY DOES IT BETTER, in May THE DATING PROPOSAL, and in June SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. To receive an email when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter! laurenblakely.com/newsletter

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***

O CAÍDO: GÊNESE
(Um prequel das virtudes mortais)

NO INÍCIO…

Eles disseram que eles eram maus.
Eles disseram que estavam possuídos por demônios.
Eles disseram que a escuridão corria em suas veias.

Holy Innocents Home for Children (Inocentes Sagrados: Lar para Crianças) é um paraíso para meninos órfãos que não têm nada nem ninguém. Os sacerdotes cuidam deles, os educando, os criando na família da igreja.

Exceto por alguns.

Sete dos órfãos não são garotos comuns. Eles atraem a atenção dos sacerdotes por seus atos de violência, de sede de sangue. Os sacerdotes percebem que esses meninos são atraídos para a escuridão.

E os sacerdotes não são padres comuns. Eles são os irmãos, uma seita secreta que acredita em uma missão divina para procurar o mal nos meninos sob seus cuidados. Procure, e depois expulse.

Os sete caíram da graça de Deus. E os irmãos limparão suas almas enegrecidas …

Um romance dark contemporâneo. Contém situações sexuais, violência, assuntos sensíveis e tabus, linguagem ofensiva e tópicos que alguns podem sentir como gatilhos. Recomendado para maiores de 18 anos.

Tradução do blog Guardiã da Meia Noite

IN THE BEGINNING…

They told them they were evil.
They told them they were possessed by demons.
They told them that darkness ran in their veins.

Holy Innocents Home for Children is a haven for orphaned boys who have nothing and no one. The priests watch over them, educate them, raise them in the family of the church.

Except for some.

Seven of the orphans are no ordinary boys. They attract the attention of the priests for their acts of violence, of bloodlust. The priests realize these boys are drawn to the darkness.

And the priests are no ordinary priests. They are the Brethren, a secret sect who believe themselves on a divine mission to seek out evil in the boys in their care. Seek it out, and then drive it out.

The seven have fallen from God’s grace. And the Brethren will cleanse their blackened souls…

Dark Contemporary Romance novella. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and topics some may find triggering. Recommended for age 18 years and up.

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When a vicious attack leaves 25-year-old Clementine Johns with no memory, she’s forced to start over. Now she has to figure out who she was and why she made the choices she did – which includes leaving the supposed love of her life, tattoo artist Ed Larsen, only a month before.

Ed can hardly believe it when his ex shows up at his tattoo parlor with no memory of their past, asking about the breakup that nearly destroyed him. The last thing he needs is more heartache, but he can’t seem to let her go again. Should they walk away for good, or does their love deserve a repeat performance?

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About Kylie Scott:

Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013 & 2014, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet. You can learn more about Kylie from http://www.kylie-scott.com/

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De olhos vendados.

Limitada.

Destino desconhecido.

Disseram-me para ficar em silêncio e cumprir as regras deles. Mas eles não perceberam que eu não era uma vítima … não mais.

O mar aberto foi o meu pano de fundo para nove dias tortuosos. Durante esse tempo, vislumbres do meu destino foram revelados por um homem com os misteriosos olhos de cor verde amarelada como licor chartreuse. Ele deveria ter me assustado, mas não o fez.

Ele me intrigou. E eu o intriguei.

Ele me puniu quando eu não o escutei, o que era todo dia. Mas por baixo de sua crueldade, senti que ele estava guardando um segredo grave.

Eu fui vendida.

E em um jogo de poker, nada menos.

Meu comprador? Um mafioso russo que gosta de colecionar coisas bonitas. Agora que sei a verdade, só tenho uma escolha.

Afundar ou nadar.

E quando uma noite fatídica me apresenta a oportunidade, eu entendo. Eu apenas não antecipei que minhas ações me deixariam naufragado com meu sequestrador.

Ele precisa de mim viva. Eu quero ele morto.

Mas como os dias se transformam em semanas, uma coisa se torna clara – eu deveria odiá-lo… mas não o faço.

Meu nome é Willow.

Seu nome é Saint.

Irônico, não é? Ele carrega um nome que denota nada além de santidade, mas não oferece nada além do inferno. Contudo, se isso é o inferno na terra … Deus, salve minha alma.

Tradução do Notas Literárias

Blindfolded.

Bound.

Destination unknown.

I was told to stay silent and abide by their rules. But they didn’t realize I wasn’t a victim…not anymore.

The open sea was my backdrop for nine torturous days. During that time, glimmers of my fate were revealed by a man with the mysterious chartreuse-colored eyes. He should have scared me, but he didn’t.

He intrigued me. And I intrigued him.

He punished me when I didn’t listen, which was every single day. But beneath his cruelty, I sensed he was guarding a grave secret.

I was sold.

And in a game of poker, no less.

My buyer? A Russian mobster who likes to collect pretty things. Now that I know the truth, I only have one choice.

Sink or swim.

And when one fateful night presents me the opportunity, I take it. I just never anticipated my actions would leave me shipwrecked with my kidnapper.

He needs me alive. I want him dead.

But as days turn into weeks, one thing becomes clear—I should hate him…but I don’t.

My name is Willow.

His name is Saint.

Ironic, isn’t it? He bears a name that denotes nothing but holiness yet delivers nothing but hell. However, if this is hell on earth…God, save my soul.  

“Ten steps,” the American whispers from behind me. I flinch at his muffled voice through the pillowcase. He stands at my back, ensuring I don’t fall. I could mistake his actions for him giving half a shit, but it’s clear that wherever I’m going, they need me alive. If not, they would have killed me already.

This isn’t a robbery. It’s a kidnapping.

Once I shakily descend the ten steps, my feet hit the sand, and in any other circumstance, I could appreciate the softness between my toes. But when I’m pushed and shoved as the American no longer seems to be near, all I can appreciate is that I’m not dead—well, not yet anyway.

Through the pillowcase, I can hear the gentle lapping of the ocean against the shore, but it’s none the wiser that three criminals are about to use it to aid in changing my world forever. When my feet tread water, I jolt with the sudden fear that they’re going to drown me. But that doesn’t make any sense.

If I’m going to survive this, I have to keep my head clear.

“Boat. In,” says someone, maybe Russian two or one. They all sound the same.

I’m yanked up—someone pulling on my floppy arms while the other lifts my legs—and I feel like a chew toy being ripped into two. Once I’m dragged onto the boat, I’m directed on where to go as someone shoves me in the back, screaming at me in a language I don’t understand.

I’m then forced down some stairs where I lose my footing and fall flat onto my stomach. Grunting on impact, I instantly search around, hoping to distinguish where I am—I’m in the bottom of the boat. The galley.

“Stay,” someone commands, ensuring I be the good dog they clearly see me as being.

Fuck them.

I rise slowly, using my hands as eyes as I feel my way around blindly. I need to find a weapon. One small enough to hide. Blood is seeping into my eyes from the wound on my temple, so I close them because I can’t see through this thick pillowcase anyway.

My fingers come into contact with what feels like a small torch. Not the weapon I had in mind, but it’ll have to do.

I’m interrupted when I hear someone tsk me before I’m being dragged by my long hair and hurled against what feels like a cushioned bench seat. The pain in my head just amplifies. “Arms behind. Hands together.”

I shakily comply, sobbing around the gag.

He reaches around me, and when the unmistakable feel of metal snaps around my wrists, I know my freedom is dwindling by the second. He yanks at the handcuffs to ensure they are tight. They are.

My breathless panting reveals my fear, but when I feel the predatory touch at the back of my calves, I freeze. Two hands glide up and down my flesh, humming in satisfaction. He’s on his knees before me.

Oh, god.

“You pretty.” His English is broken, but I’m not lost in translation. I know what he wants.

“We going to have fun, and it’ll be our secret.” Next, I feel a wet tongue lap its way up the side of my calf. The smell of cigarettes and sweat has my stomach roiling.

Adrenaline takes over, and I attempt to kick him, but he’s too fast, chuckling as he pushes down on my ankles. He then begins to bound them with coarse rope.

Once he tugs at my restraints, it sounds like he stands. I try to kick my feet out, but they’re tied to something hard beneath me. I’m bound. Hands and feet. And gagged. I’m not going anywhere.

“She tied up?” I almost sigh in relief when I hear the American. He was the only one who showed me an iota of mercy. The other two scare me. The American doesn’t.

“Yes, like a present. You want to unwrap her?”

I suddenly feel so objectified and dirty and attempt to recoil, but I can’t move. My heart is racing, and my breathing is uneven. The tears have long dried as I’m awaiting their next move.

“Shut the fuck up and let’s go.”

That was not the response I was expecting. The Russian laughs.

“Calm down, неудачник.”

“Fuck you. Up on deck now.” The American talks big and seems to be calling the shots. I wonder who he is?

My only clue to what’s going on is what I hear, and before the hatch closes, I’m presented with clue number one. “Be in Turkey soon. I hope you don’t get seasick, Saint.” Then the hatch closes, leaving me with the sound of the muted voices above me.

Turkey? Why are we going there? But more importantly, I just uncovered the name of my American captor…Saint.

Ironic, isn’t it, that someone who bears a name denoting nothing but holiness can deliver nothing but hell.

Bon voyage.

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When she is not writing, Monica is busy running her own business, but she always finds a balance between the two. She enjoys writing honest, heartfelt, and turbulent stories, hoping to leave an imprint on her readers. She draws her inspiration from life.

She is a bestselling author in the U.S.A., Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Israel, and the U.K.

Monica James resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her wonderful family, and menagerie of animals. She is slightly obsessed with cats, chucks, and lip gloss, and secretly wishes she was a ninja on the weekends.

Stalk Me!

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One woman on a dating quest. One man in need of a relationship guru. One wild proposal neither can resist.

Watch out world — I’m ready to date again.

The seven years I invested in my ex left me with nothing but scorch marks from the way he peeled out and left me at the altar. I’m not looking to put my heart into a relationship any time soon.

What I am looking for? To have some freaking fun. My best friends can’t wait to set me up with suitable single guys, and soon I’ve got three promising prospects. Then I bump into Chris….

Clever and funny, with a sexy surfer’s bod and a brilliant nerd brain, he has just the right screwdriver to fix my hard drive. (Yes, the one for my computer.)

I wouldn’t mind dating him. The trouble is he just proposed to me—to be the new dating guru on his TV show—and I said yes.

***

Don’t get your honey where you get your money.

I’d make a sign or put that mantra on a tattoo, except I’m not likely to forget it, given that the last time I mixed business with pleasure, it almost tanked my career. Now? I play by the book.

That hasn’t been a problem until McKenna. She’s engaging and fun, quick with a snapback or a sensitive, sensible reply—perfect for my TV show. Too bad she’s also perfectly kissable.

But I lock my feelings down. We’ve both worked too hard on our careers to let our connection go further than some sexy banter…and, okay, one impulsive, fantastic kiss—no matter how much our boss, our fans, and our friends propose we make our on-screen chemistry an off-screen romance.

What happens when you meet the right person at the wrong time?

Note: Back in the day, Lauren wrote a book called TROPHY HUSBAND, and though it’s no longer available for sale, the characters of Chris and McKenna seemed to demand another chance in the spotlight. THE DATING PROPOSAL is a complete reimagining of their romance, with 85 percent brand-new material, a fresh plot, and vastly expanded characterizations so you can come to know and love Chris and McKenna like Lauren does. Enjoy!

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About Lauren Blakely:

A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sweet, sexy and witty. Her heroines are strong and smart and her heroes have hearts of gold and fantastic funny bones. She lives in California with her family, including her smoking hot and hilarious husband and her two brilliant and kind children. She has plotted entire novels while walking her dogs — she might have four dogs, or maybe five. If she’s lucky, she’ll soon have six dogs. With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than 100 times, and she’s sold more than 3 million books. In April she’ll release NOBODY DOES IT BETTER, in May THE DATING PROPOSAL, and in June SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. To receive an email when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter. laurenblakely.com/newsletter

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It was supposed to be a Friday night like any other for Lana and her best friends. Three girls out to cause a little trouble. Break a few hearts. And try not to get caught. Except on this night, Lana Peri is the sole witness to a horrific crime, and she can’t say a word. Not if she wants to protect her friends. No one will believe her word over his, so he gets away with it. And she’s forced to pay for her silence.

Instead of serving time in juvie, Lana is sentenced to a boarding school for privileged teens. Removed from everyone she knows and cares about, she’s abandoned at Blackwood School in Vermont, where everything is an illusion, including the lives of those who attend the elite institution. Lana isn’t wealthy or privileged. The only thing she has in common with the sons and daughters of celebrities and politicians is that she’s a delinquent, just like them. And they’ve all been forced to grow up much too fast.

Just when Lana begins to feel accepted, mysterious notes start showing up in her belongings and ominous threats are painted on her wall.  Only someone she knows could have done it. Someone she thought was a friend. As the pieces fall into place, secrets begin to emerge, leaving Lana with too many questions and not enough people to trust.

The Cursed Series is a thrilling and tangled mystery that explores the sacrifice of love and the secrets kept to protect friends. How do you know who to trust when no one is telling the truth?

“That’s what it’s called?”

“It is now. As of today. Because it’s what we need it to be.” She takes my hand. “Ready?”

I look out at the dwindling light dancing on the dark surface like the lake is capturing every last bit of the sun before it disappears. I close my eyes and find that place inside that is always angry. That hates my curse. That needs Allie to live. And Vic to burn. That wants to hurt every man who has ever broken my mother’s heart. Or touched what wasn’t theirs. And every person who has ever lied when they claimed to love. I don’t have to search for long, because it’s always there, waiting to explode.

I open my eyes to look into Ashton’s sapphire blue ones, and nod.

We face the water and inhale deeply, giving our anger, frustration and sadness a breath of life before we unleash it onto the world in the most powerful scream that’s ever been launched from this cliff. And it’s freeing. More than I ever thought possible. I allow my heartache to take flight, releasing it into the setting sun to be dragged down beneath the horizon.

And what’s left when there aren’t any more screams to give is a radiant smile. Ashton and I face each other, our hands still clasped, and we start laughing. It’s a true, bonding laughter because we just shared something sacred. If anyone were to witness it, they would think we’re insane. And maybe it’s that crazy within each of us that makes the laughter louder and deeper until I have to wipe away the tears creeping out the corners of my eyes.

“Thank you, Ashton,” I tell her as we start back across the field. “My soul needed that.”

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That inked bad boy who’s been flirting hard with me since he rode into town? Turns out he’s my new housemate, which is one hell of a problem since our chemistry is so hot it should be illegal.

I have a fantastic family, great best friends, a job I love…and now I’m up for a promotion to police sergeant. I need total focus—not a flirty, dirty, irresistible, tattooed hottie riding into my town on his motorcycle. Can I arrest him for being too good-looking? When he kisses me senseless in the back of a waffle truck, it’s criminal, the things he makes me think about hot syrup and melted butter. One order of hot, fluffy hookup to go, please.
But the next time I see him, it’s not for our date with benefits. He’s the guy who just rented the room above my garage.
I need the rent to pay my bills, not a man like Derek, who I soon discover to be strong, caring, generous, good with kids, and kind to puppies… If I’m not careful, he’ll be moving into my heart as well as my house.

***

A no-strings-attached fling with the fiery redhead who revs my engine? Why, yes, that does sound like a delicious perk of my new job in this new town, thank you very much. I’m coming off a bad relationship, and I have zero interest in anything serious. I’ve got all the serious I need helping my sister take care of her three little kids while her husband is deployed.
Except, surprise! Perri isn’t just my future fling. Turns out she’s my sexy, sassy landlord.
A lease definitely counts as “strings attached,” and as much as I’d like to get tangled in her sheets, I can’t let myself get tangled up in a relationship.
But as soon as we put the cuffs on our escapades, I learn over late-night conversations in the kitchen, that my landlord is so much more than the sexiest woman I’ve ever met– she has a quick mind and the biggest heart.

Once I’m in, I’m all in. And to convince her that we should see where this goes, I plan on turning up the heat—and not just in the kitchen.

~DEREK~

Today is my lucky day.

I’d like to thank my sister for getting my ass out of bed.

I’d like to thank my niece for telling me the nice lady with the paints had just made her way down the veggie aisle.

And I’d like to thank fate that this avocado stand is in an out-of-the-way corner of the market, and that the farmer running it must have had to take one hell of a leak.

It’s just us.

This woman is fiery, flirty, and already driving me out of my mind. The stream of market-goers has thinned to a crawl as we near closing time, and left us in a cocoon of raw lust.

I place the fruit on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth, brush my fingers over her hip, and tug her against me. She lets out the sexiest little sound. “Tell me your name. I’m dying to know.”

“Why do you need it so badly?”

“So I know what name to say when I’m fantasizing.”

A murmur crosses her lips, and she leans her head back against me, her hair spilling down my chest. “Are you fantasizing about me?”

“Every. Single. Night.”

“You must be having a log of long nights, Mr. Trouble.”

“Long, hard nights…Miss Demeanor,” I say with a smirk, trying that nickname on for size.

“Well played.”

“Thank you. It just came to me.”

She glances back at me, her green eyes looking rife with dirty thoughts. “Do you want to come down to the station with me?”

“I want your name, beautiful. Give me your name,” I growl into her ear, commanding her.

“Perri,” she says breathlessly, her voice betraying her longing. A longing that matches mine.

“Perri,” I repeat, tasting her name on my tongue.

Her voice tightens to a warning and sharpens as she speaks. “Don’t say it.”

I narrow my brow in question. “Say what?”

“Don’t say it’s a guy’s name.”

I laugh lightly in her ear, jerking her ass closer to my hard-on. “Do you honestly believe I’m thinking for one second about guys right now?”

She lets out a gasp, chased by a soft moan. “I don’t know. What exactly are you thinking about?”

I drag my scruff against her neck. “How close I am to getting a ticket for indecent everything.”

She wriggles her sexy rear against me. “I’d say everything feel way more than decent.”

I groan as a dart of lust shoots down my spine. I’d like to find a way to kiss the breath out of her right here, right now.

She tenses against me, her body straightening like a ruler, and my gaze flicks to the new crowd of people streaming around the corner, heading toward us.

Fuck me.

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About Lauren Blakely:

A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sweet, sexy and witty. Her heroines are strong and smart and her heroes have hearts of gold and fantastic funny bones. She lives in California with her family, including her smoking hot and hilarious husband and her two brilliant and kind children. She has plotted entire novels while walking her dogs — she might have four dogs, or maybe five. If she’s lucky, she’ll soon have six dogs. With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than 100 times, and she’s sold more than 3 million books. In March she’ll release THE FEEL GOOD FACTOR, in May THE DATING PROPOSAL, and in June SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. To receive an email when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter! laurenblakely.com/newsletter

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Eleanor & Grey é o mais novo livro da autora Brittainy C. Cherry e será lançado dia 08 de abril.

Eleanor & Grey, an all-new beautiful and emotional standalone from Brittainy C. Cherry is coming April 8th and we have the gorgeous cover for you!

Eu era uma garotinha quando me apaixonei por ele, mas eu não entendia muito sobre a vida. Eu sabia por que seus sorrisos e suas risadas me deixarem com um frio na barriga, principalmente quando ele estava por perto.

A vida era perfeita… até que não era mais, e quando fomos forçados a seguir caminhos separados, me agarrei às nossas lembranças, deixei que meu primeiro amor fosse embora, e esperava pelo dia que eu voltasse a vê-lo.

Quando meu desejo se tornou realidade, não foi como eu imaginei.

Eu não sabia que quando eu aceitei o cargo de babá, seria para cuidar dos filhos dele, que o meu novo chefe seria o garoto que eu conhecera, que o garoto tinha se transformado em homem — um homem frio, sozinho e isolado homem.

O sorriso e risada que eu tanto amara tinham desaparecido, ficando apenas nas minhas lembranças. Cada parte dele estava coberta em dor.

Quando ele percebeu quem eu era, ele me fez prometer que eu faria o meu trabalho e apenas isso. Ele me fez prometer que não tentaria conhecê-lo, que não me agarraria às velhas lembranças que me tanto eram queridas por todo esse tempo.

Mas, algumas vezes, eu via em seus olhos tempestuosos o garoto que eu outrora conhecera. Eu via o Greyson que sorria e gargalhava, aquele que tinha roubado o coração da garotinha, e eu não tinha dúvidas de valia a pena lutar por aquele garoto.

Eu tinha recebido uma segunda chance com a pessoa que deixou a sua marca em mim. Eu só esperava que, de alguma maneira, eu também tivesse deixado uma marca na sua alma.

Tradução: Compulsivamente Literária

Greyson East left his mark on me.

As the young girl who first fell for him, I didn’t know much about life. I did know about his smiles, though, and his laughs, and the strange way my stomach flipped when he was near.

Life was perfect…until it wasn’t, and when we were forced to go our separate ways, I held on to our memories, let go of my first crush, and wished for the day I’d find him again.

When my wish came true, it was nothing like I imagined.

I couldn’t have known when I took the nanny position that it would be his children I looked after, that my new boss would be that boy I used to know, that boy who was now a man—a cold, lonely, detached man.

The smile and laugh I had loved so much were gone, now distant memories. Every part of him was covered in a fresh pain.

When he realized who I was, he made me promise to do my job and my job only.

He made me promise not to try to get to know him, not to recall the memories I’d treasured all this time.

But, sometimes, I saw the boy I’d once known in his stormy eyes. I saw the Greyson who smiled and laughed, who had stolen a young girl’s heart, and there was no doubt in my mind that this boy was worth fighting for.

I was given a second chance with the one who’d left his mark on me. All I hoped was that somehow I’d leave a mark on his soul, too.

She has been in love with words since the day she took her first breath. She graduated from Carroll University with a Bachelors Degree in Theatre Arts and a minor in Creative Writing.

Her novels have been published in 18+ countries around the world. Brittainy lives in Brookfield, Wisconsin with her fur babies.

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One week.

Private cabin.

Famous physicist.

Still an unrepentant slacker.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Mona’s meticulously planned allotment of relaxation is thrown into chaos by the unscheduled appearance of her older brother’s band of friends, including the one person she’d hoped to never face again. Abram still makes her feel entirely too much, which is one of the reasons she disappeared after their one week together. But now, trapped on a mountain of snow and things unspoken, Mona will have to find a way to coexist with Abram, chaos and all.

Laws of Physics is the second trilogy in the Hypothesis series; Laws of Physics parts 1 (MOTION) & 2 (SPACE) end with a cliffhanger.

She was still staring at me, her face still pale, but her eyes had turned searching instead of stunned.

“I—” She stopped herself, swallowing, her gaze dropping to the front of my coat, a cute little frown furrowing her eyebrows. In the next moment, she was pulling off the glove of her right hand. Abruptly, she shoved the ungloved fingers toward me, returning her eyes to mine. “I’m Mona.”

I suppressed my disbelief at her small action before it could break my outward mask of calm. I wasn’t calm. Just to be clear, I was the opposite of calm.

The fact that she was introducing herself to me now meant that she thought I was too stupid to figure out her lies over the last two-and-a-half-fucking years. She was arguably one of the smartest people in the world, after all. To her, people like me must seem like housebroken pets. So it shouldn’t have surprised me. But it did. The tension and tightness around my ribs reappeared, squeezing uncomfortably.

Dropping my attention to her bare hand, I pressed my lips into a tighter line, dismissing the way my pulse jumped at the sight of her wrist, the olive tone of her skin under the yellow string lights overhead. Glaring at her outstretched offering, I considered telling her to go to hell.

I considered it, but I wouldn’t.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, that was reason number one.

The other reason was harder to explain, or use as a justification, or admit to myself. Staring at her hand, I braced against a sudden flare of hunger. She might consider me a lower life-form, but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to touch her. I wanted to touch her more than I wanted to tell her to go to hell, and that was fucking pitiful.

But there it was.

Acting on the compulsion, I lifted my right hand and tugged off the ski glove, sliding my warm palm against her much colder one. Her hand felt good in my hand, the right weight, the right size, the right texture, and I inhaled freezing air.

Mona also seemed to suck in a slow but expansive breath as our hands touched, held. This brought my eyes back to hers in time to see her lashes flutter. Pink colored her previously pale cheeks. The sound of the wailing wind, the sting of the air and frost momentarily melted away, leaving just her, her soft skin warming against mine, her beautiful face filling my vision.

So beautiful.

She really was. She was stunning. I hated that she was still so beautiful to me.

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Motion

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Time

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