Semana após semana, novas cartas aparecem. Cada uma marcar um evento na épica história de amor deles. Cada uma cura uma ferida. Cada uma contém a confissão do homem que ainda é dono do coração de Molly.

As cartas são cheias de promessas, esperança e amor, mas verdade sea dita, Molly deseja poder esquecer cada uma delas.

Porque o homem que escreveu essas cartas não é quem as está enviando.

Devney
is the USA Today bestselling author of the Jamison Valley
series. She lives in Montana with her husband and two children. After working
in the technology industry for nearly a decade, she abandoned conference calls
and project schedules to enjoy a slower pace at home with her kids. She loves
reading and, after consuming hundreds of books, decided to share her own
stories. Devney loves hearing from readers! Connect with
her on social media.

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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

O que muda o caminho de alguém na vida? Escolhas, circunstâncias, ou ambos?

Tillie nos apresenta o início de tudo que veremos na série em The Fallen: Genesis. Os caminhos que se fecham e os que se abrem. As escolhas feitas e as que são impossíveis de se fazer. A luz e a escuridão. Como um pode influenciar o outro.

Nós acompanhamos Joseph em sua complicada história, em sua fé, em seu amor. Sua necessidade em proteger seu irmão, não importa o preço. Através de uma teia de mentiras, traições, dores e horrores, nós continuamos o seguindo e tentando entender tudo que está acontecendo. Tentando não acreditar o nível de maldade que existe no mundo. Tentando ser como ele e ter fé, acreditar.

Você está pronto para pular na escuridão com “The Fallen”? Você está pronto para se apaixonar pelos corrompidos?

Eu estou pronta para pular com os dois pés e ver onde a Rainha da Escuridão irá levar “The Fallen”.

What changes someones path in life? Choices, circumstances, or both?

In The Fallen: Genesis, Tillie presents us with be beginning of everything we’ll see in the series. The paths opened and closed. The choices made and the ones impossible to make. The light and the dark. And how one can impact the other.

We follow Joseph in his intricate story, in his faith, in his love. His need to protect his brother no matter  the cost. Through a web of lies, deceit, pain and horrors, we keep following him and trying to understand everything that is happening. Trying do don’t believe the level of evil in the world. Trying to be like him and have faith, to believe.

Are you ready to jump in the dark with the fallen? Are you ready to fall in love with the broken?

I’m ready to jump with both feet and see where the Queen of Darkness will lead The Fallen.

Joseph shivered as he recalled his brother’s expression a moment ago as he’d sat and stared at the knives he had sliced into the boy’s flesh. James, the sadistic voyeur of his own work. Joseph’s nervous eyes landed on his brother’s target. The boy was bound with ropes, and a washcloth was stuffed into his mouth,silencing his cries.

Luke.

Fear flooded Joseph’s body. Luke, the boy who had been intent on bullying James since the age of eight. The boy who would spit at James’s feet when they walked by. The boy who call him weird, a goth, a psychopath who rarely spoke. His taunts were endless. Joseph didn’t think the verbal bullets had ever hit their target . . . until he’d found a pad of paper hidden underneath James’s bed. A pad of paper showing in graphic detail what James wanted to do to Luke.

Tie him up.

Cut his flesh.

Exsanguinate his body.

Then drink the blood down.

“They’re just fantasy, right?” Joseph asked James when he returned from detention. Joseph held up the drawings. Page after page of pain and despair and cruelty.

James walked slowly to Joseph and ran his hand down the open page of the pad, delicately running his fingertip over the pencil image of Luke’s slit throat. “It’s a promise,” James said, with no shame in his voice. “Each page is what will happen to Luke.” James finally met his older brother’s eyes. “I’m just waiting for the perfect time.”

From that day on Joseph made sure Luke never got too close to James, for fear of what his younger brother would do. Because Joseph believed every word his brother had said.

The truth was, Joseph knew that someday, if he wasn’t stopped, James would do something so terrible he wouldn’t be able to come back from it.

And Joseph had no idea how to cure James. He didn’t know how to heal his little brother of the wretchedness that had lodged itself into his soul. He prayed for a miracle he knew would never come.

Joseph’s heart pounded as James held up another knife. His brother’s torso was bare, the scars from his frequent self-mutilation clear to see, white roads of flesh mapping the veins that ran under his skin. Veins that carried the blood James so desperately craved; nightly, once safe in their room, he would slice them open and lick the falling drops as they ran in crimson rivulets down his arms.

Joseph thrashed on the bed, fighting the binds James must have placed him in while he slept. “James, listen to me,” Joseph said as he helplessly watched his brother slowly push his blade into Luke’s shoulder. Luke’s chair almost fell as he screamed into the washcloth, the fabric absorbing his cry. But James didn’t even flinch. Joseph’s stomach clenched when the blood started to pour from Luke’s shoulder as James carefully extracted the blade.

Eleven. That’s all James was. Eleven years old, yet thought only of blood . . . worse, even . . . thought only about the consumption of blood.

If you haven’t, let me enlighten you: Legend has it if you bring a girl into the sacred after-game domain of the baseball locker room, it will end with a walk down the aisle. Basically one rowdy and naked encounter against the lockers with the girl of your dreams will make her your wife.

TRANSLATION: BASEBALL PLAYERS ARE STUPIDLY SUPERSTITIOUS AND BELIEVE THE LOCKER ROOM HAS MAGICAL POWERS.

But not all baseball players are superstitious, me included.

So when the girl I’ve fallen for brushes me off, I start to question if I need to switch my way of thinking. Maybe it’s time I finally hand out a coveted invitation to the locker room.

THE ONLY QUESTION IS, WILL SHE ACCEPT?

COMING JUNE 20TH!!!!

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There are two sides to every story.
The surface reality that’s presented to the world.
And then there’s the other side.
The real one.
The one that matters.

Seventeen-year-old, self-proclaimed asshole, Toby Page, is alone.
No friends.
No family.
He trades maintenance work in exchange for room and board.
Every day he fights demons no one else can see.
Every day he wants to give up.
But he can’t.
Not yet.

When Alice Eliot moves in downstairs, she offers Toby some light in his dark world.
At a crossroads and barely hanging on, it’s hard to have perspective.
It’s difficult to see your own worth when you’re the villain in your story.
Luckily for Toby, Alice brings things out in him that no one else ever has.

As the two sides of Toby’s story are revealed, and the full reality comes into view, truth is gained.
Improbable alliances prove that kindness is fundamentally human.
Unlikely heroes emerge.

The question is, Will it all be enough to save him?

But the longer she watches the man known only as Lucas, on the station surveillance camera, the more intrigued she becomes. He certainly looks primitive with his unkempt appearance and animal skin attire, but she also sees intelligence in his eyes, sensitivity in his expression. Who is he? And how is it possible that he’s lived alone in the forest since he was a small child?

As secrets begin to emerge, Harper is thrust into something bigger and more diabolical than she ever could have imagined. And standing right at the center of it all, is Lucas. But is he truly the wild man he appears to be? A cold blooded killer? An innocent victim? Or a perplexing mix of all three?

Harper must find out the answers to these questions because the more time she spends with him, the more she risks losing her heart.

Series: All The Pretty Things Trilogy, Volume Two

Genre: Dark Romance

Cover Designer: Sommer Stein— Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Aleksei Popov—Russia’s number one mobster, and the man I was sold to.

His intentions for me are clear—submit, obey him, and call him master—but I won’t surrender. I’m not like the other girls. Whether that’s a blessing or curse, I’ve yet to decide. The problem is, my disobedience intrigues my captor all the more.

When we arrive in Russia, the rules change.

Saint, the man who was once a sinner, is my only salvation. What was forbidden now gives me hope that there is light in the darkness. He will risk everything to set me free.

But behind these opulent walls, things aren’t what they seem, and when the fine line between pleasure and pain begins to blur, only one thing matters—saving my soul.

I will lie.

Cheat.

Steal.

I was once an angel, but now…I’m a fallen saint, ready to inflict my own pain and burn this hellhole to the ground.

Without question, I slowly rise from the bed and follow Saint to the middle of the room. When he positions himself so Aleksei can see, I know what I have to do.

I drop to my knees and bow my head.

“Oh my.” A stunned gasp leaves Aleksei. “That is incredible. Just like a trained dog.”

A strong metallic taste fills my mouth, alerting me that I’ve drawn blood by biting down on my tongue so hard.

“What is your name?” Saint asks numbly.

“Aнгел.”

“And who am I?”

“мастеp,” I reply softly, using my hair as a veil.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

Before I have a chance to reply, Saint reaches down and grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him. I arch my neck, locking eyes with him. The amber swirls mingle among the flecks of green and set me alight. He is barely holding on.

“мастеp,” I say, louder this time.

“Good girl.” He releases me while I sag forward in humiliation. “You know what happens when you disobey me?”

“Yes, мастеp.” The truth is, I don’t know what punishment he intends to deliver. He reveals what a moment later.

“Lift your dress.”

And just like that, I’m transported back to the night when Saint first struck me with his belt.

I know for this to be believable, Saint has to make the punishments credible. But the thought of being hit again has me whimpering.

“I said lift your fucking dress.” Saint’s tone is venomous. With no other choice, I do as he demands.

When I hear his belt being unbuckled and threaded through the loops of his pants, I brace myself for what comes next.

My back faces Aleksei, so he has a clear view of my ass. My lace underwear leaves nothing to the imagination, but it appears he wants more. “Take them off.”

I lock eyes with Saint, begging he doesn’t force me to bow to this pervert’s demands, but he maintains his apathetic façade. Yet underneath this disguise, I know he’ll always protect me.

“With all due respect, Aleksei, you asked me to show you, so please allow me to do my job.” Being called a job causes me to flinch as though he kicked me in the guts. I know it’s part of the plan, but it’s hard not to get lost in the past.

“You’re right. Sorry. I got carried away. Continue.” His politeness is beyond insulting, as he’s apologizing for suggesting Saint strip me when he whips me into submission.

This is so fucked up.

Saint walks around me and kicks my legs apart. I suppress the need to scream. He doesn’t give me any warning. I hear the vicious hiss slicing through the air just before the pain hits me. With a loud grunt, I propel forward but remain kneeling.

My ass throbs from where Saint brought down his belt, but I know he could have struck me a lot harder. When he hits me over the back of my thighs, I whimper but remain upright. This strike was softer than the first.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me?”

Whack.

Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to cry. “I’m s-sorry, мастеp. I won’t disobey you a-again.”

Whack.

“Are you sure?” Even though Saint barely breaks a sweat from hitting me, his breathlessness reveals it’s taking every ounce of his willpower not to kill Aleksei.

When I hear the belt being swung into position, I cry out, “Yes! Yes. I’m sorry. I won’t d-do it again.”

I brace myself for another strike, but it doesn’t come. “Put down your dress.”

With shaky hands, I do as he says.

Since I’m facing away from Saint, I can’t see what’s going on, but I’m guessing from the silence it’s not good.

“That’s it?” Aleksei is far from impressed. It seems he will only be satisfied when I’m crying out in pain and begging for mercy.

“Yes. She submitted, did she not?”

Silence.

The air is thick with challenge. Saint’s methods aren’t satisfactory because Aleksei knows he could have been a lot crueler.

“She fought me like a wild cat. I think she likes you.”

My cheeks heat, but I squash down my embarrassment because this exercise was supposed to convince Aleksei otherwise. I quickly rack my brain, hoping to prove Aleksei wrong, but Saint is two steps ahead.

“She fears me,” he argues. “She doesn’t know you yet, but I’ve broken her. Just allow me to spend more time with her, and I promise, she will fear you too. I’m the only one who can break her.”

“Very well. But if your methods don’t prove satisfactory, and I don’t see a change very soon, I will take over. Are we clear?”

My blood turns cold.

“We’re clear,” Saint replies with bite.

“I won’t have her behaving like a rabid dog because you know what happens to them?” Aleksei pauses while the room drops ten thousand degrees. “I shoot them.”

Make no mistake, he’s warning us both.

Saint grips the back of my neck, hinting I’m to stand. When I do, he leads me back over to the bed. He won’t look at me, and the detachment has me getting onto the bed, desperate for them to leave so I can process this on my own. Without him asking, I place my arms over my head after I lie down.

A tear leaks from my eye when he cuffs me, but I turn my cheek so he can’t see.

“Let’s go into my office. We have some things to discuss.” Just as Saint moves to rise, Aleksei says something which has me questioning how good of an actress I really am. “Gag her. You said she was shouting earlier.”

You’re going to be a good little girl, aren’t you, Willow?

I suddenly find it impossible to breathe.

I’m moments away from blowing our ruse when a tender caress floats across my flank. Though it’s a subtle touch, it’s enough. “That’s not necessary. She won’t scream.” Saint recognizes my panic; he knows what memories claw to the surface when I’m gagged.

“I said gag her,” Aleksei perseveres, needing to hold on to some semblance of control.

I know I told Saint to do whatever it takes, but that’s my hard limit, so I don’t know if I can stomach that. But I should know by now that Saint will always be the alpha. “Aleksei, you just said you’re willing to allow me to do this my way. Are you going back on your word?”

I don’t know why his word is so important. He’s a fucking criminal, for god’s sake. But I remember Saint saying that Aleksei does hold some honor among his men. I can only hope he’s right.

“So be it. But if I hear a peep out of her, it’ll be the last for quite some time.”

I gulp as his threat is filled with promise.

“She’ll be quiet,” Saint assures, speaking for me as he knows I’m close to breaking. “Let’s go.”

When he rises from the bed, I turn my cheek to look at him. But when I lock eyes with Aleksei instead, I realize I have to be more careful. Although we have convinced him today, tomorrow may not be as easy.

Saint doesn’t look back and is quick to leave. I soon find out why that is.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Aleksei blocks the doorway while I watch on in horror. He’s going to kill Saint and make me watch. We haven’t fooled him at all.

When Saint reaches into his pocket and produces the key to my cuffs, I sense he has a plan after all. Aleksei seems disappointed he surrendered it so easily.

Saint opens the door, hinting for Aleksei to move. He eventually does but not before he grins my way. The gesture sends a shiver down my spine.

This is only the beginning of things to come.

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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.

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That doesn’t mean I ceased to exist, only to live.

Going where the job takes me and living in the shadows, with
deadly accuracy I utilize the skills inherent to me, not knowing from where
they came, not recalling what I’d lost.

And then I saw her.

Laurel Carlson.

I shouldn’t want her, desire her, or need her, yet with each
sighting I know she is exactly what I have to have. Laurel has the ability to
do what I thought was impossible. She sees what others don’t.

My gut tells me that it’s a deadly mistake to change my
plans and open my world to her. My mind says she’ll be repulsed by my twisted
existence.

None of that matters, because my body won’t take no for an
answer.

I’ve made dangerous mistakes before.

This time, will the price be too high?

From New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig comes a
brand-new dark romance bringing us back to the same dangerous underworld as
SECRETS. You do not need to read the Web of Sin trilogy to get caught in this
new and intriguing saga, Tangled Web.

TWISTED is book one of the TANGLED WEB trilogy which will
continue in OBSESSED and conclude in BOUND.

Have you been Aleatha’d?

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON CA | NOOK | APPLE | KOBO | GOOGLE PLAY

Thea Hughes has five minutes to live.

A car accident stole her parents and left her with the second-worst documented case of amnesia in the world. She now has only minutes of experiences, of consciousness, of life…before her memory is wiped clean. The once effervescent artist with a promising future is reduced to scribbling with pens and paper, living an empty, quiet life, three hundred seconds at a time.

Jim Whelan is on autopilot.

A foster kid shuffled around the system since birth, he’s lived his entire life without knowing love…and it’s taken its toll—until he learned to fight back, carry his armor, and keep his head down.

Working as an orderly in the Blue Ridge Sanitarium, deep in Virginia countryside, Jim looked up…and found Thea.

When Thea has the chance to break free of her five-minute prison with a risky, experimental surgery, it could lead them both to an epic love they never thought possible… or one that could require the ultimate sacrifice.

A stand-alone, new adult romance.

“Marc Antony,” I said and nodded at her drawing. “Part of your Egyptian studies?”

Thea leaned her cheek on her folded hands like she was warming herself before a fire. “Marc Antony is part of the romance. A love story with Cleopatra. He went to war for her. Died for her. When they told her he was dead, she put her hand in a basket with an asp. Can you imagine? Loving someone so much that the thought of life without them is too unbearable?”

“No,” I said. “I can’t.”

Her gaze dropped to my hand on the table and her fingers reached to trace the scars on my knuckles.

These tell a story, don’t they?” She traced one of the fine lines. “You put your hand in with the snakes, too.”

I nodded slowly, savoring the feel of her warm skin on mine. “So the bullies would leave me alone.”

“And did they?”

“Eventually.”

“I’m glad.” She put her hand in mine completely, her fingers wrapping around and holding tight. “I’m being too… something. Personal. Delia would throw a fit, but I feel like…”

“Like what, Thea?”

“Like I have to hold on to this moment, you know? Or you… I don’t even know you and yet I don’t want to stop talking to you.” Her hand squeezed mine. “I don’t care if you have a stutter, but please keep talking to me, Jimmy. Okay?”

My mouth went dry at the nameless desperation in her eyes.

Jesus, does she know she’s trapped? She can’t. Impossible…

“I won’t,” I said. “I’ll talk to you every day. I promise.”

Thea breathed a small sigh of relief and released my hand. “Thank you, Jimmy. That makes me feel better.”

With a final smile—a parting smile, I realized—she took up her pen and then froze.

She’s resetting.

Confusion passed over her features. She looked up at me, flinching a little to see a big man in close proximity. I instantly leaned back to give her space.

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“Two years,” I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper. “But the doctors are working on your case.”

“Yes, they are.” She smiled hesitantly and found my nametag. “I’m Thea Hughes.”

Seven. Seven times now.

“Jim Whelan,” I said.

She offered her hand. Again. I took it robotically, enduring her one-pump shake. Again. Her fingers didn’t linger in mine but released immediately, the way you do with a stranger. Again.

“Nice to meet you, Jim Whelan.”

Fuck. I can’t do this.

I rose to my feet. “I have to get to work.”

Her face fell. “Oh. Bummer. Will I see you again?”

I could promise her I would, but she wouldn’t remember. There was no promise. I could tell her the sky was falling or my name was Abraham Lincoln and she wouldn’t know the damn difference. It’d vanish, like every other word we’d ever spoken to each other. I vanished every time her reset hit and was recreated over again in Thea’s eyes. I could be whatever I wanted; whomever I wanted. And yet she was the one woman I might’ve had a chance to be myself with.

The terrible irony of it was like copper in my mouth.

“Sure, Miss Hughes,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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Emma Scott is a bestselling author of emotional, character-driven romances in which art and love intertwine to heal, and in which love always wins. If you enjoy emotionally-charged stories that rip your heart out and put it back together again, with diverse characters and kind-hearted heroes, you will enjoy her novels.

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Com quinze anos, Ginny é sequestrada por um membro das mais conhecidas e agressivas gangues de motoqueiros do sul da Flórida. A partir daquele momento, sua vida muda para sempre. Ela ganha um novo nome, uma nova identidade e uma nova vida em meio ao mundo assustador e violento, onde todo mundo tem um nome de guerra e a lealdade é equivalente à sobrevivência. No meio de tudo isso está o líder da gangue, Grizz: enorme, bonito, assustador e, surpreendentemente no que diz respeito a Ginny, carinhoso. Ela se torna sua obsessão e o único grande amor de sua vida.

Assim começa um conto de obsessão emocional e manipulação de uma jovem afastada de tudo o que conhece e forçada a se apoiar na única pessoa que oferece atenção, afeto e cuidado: seu sequestrador. Precoce e inteligente, mas ainda uma adolescente, Ginny sofre para se adaptar a sua vida, inicialmente resistindo, e aceitando a sua nova realidade

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