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Captain by D.M. Davis

D.M. Davis' Captain is a heart-wrenching, sexy contemporary romance full of forgiveness, second chances, and healing, and Book Three in the Black Ops MMA series.

Sometimes you have to break to become the person you're meant to be.


I'm a bastard by birth.
Heartless by choice.
Love abandoned me a long time ago. Good riddance.
I have my family-by-choice. I don't need more.
Until she crept in, sank in deep, latched on, and stayed.
She's as broken as the day is long.
Yet I can't resist the pull to get her in my bed, in my heart, piecing me back together–for she's not the only one broken.
I'm over men.
Destruction and pain are all they bring.
Been there. Done that. Check please.
Yet there is one–so many years later–who looks at me like I'm a goddess.
Who makes me feel like I have something to offer, that I'm exactly who he wants.
Can two lonely souls come together to discover the broken have more pieces to love, or will they pass on finding their forever love?

Intended for mature audiences. Some scenes may contain triggers.

The Black Ops MMA books are integrated standalones with subplots that carry through from book 1 to book 4. For maximum enjoyment, I suggest the Black Ops MMA Series be read in order to fully experience the world and the characters who inhabit it, beginning with NO MERCY.

Black Ops MMA Series:
NO MERCY  |  ROWDY  |  CAPTAIN   |  COWBOY (coming mid-2021)

 Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

Meet D.M. Davis

D.M. Davis is a Contemporary and New Adult Romance Author.

She is a Texas native, wife, and mother. Her background is Project Management, technical writing, and application development. D.M. has been a lifelong reader, and wrote poetry in her early life, but has found her true passion in writing about love and the intricate relationships between men and women.

She writes of broken hearts and second chances, of dreamers looking for more than they have and daring to reach for it.

D.M. believes it is never too late to make a change in your own life, to become the person you always wanted to be, but were afraid you were not worth the effort. You are worth it. Take a chance on you. You never know what's possible if you don't try. Believe in yourself as you believe in others, and see what life has to offer.
Connect with D.M.

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Yes, Captain

Title: Yes, Captain 

Author: Ann Grech

Genre: Steamy age-gap MM romance

Release Date: April 15th 



A cruise ship captain with an unbreakable rule. A dancer who tempts him to toss the rulebook overboard…

Will Preston lives by one edict: don’t date staff.
But the new dancer onboard has the silver fox sailing into unchartered waters. Young, sexy, and with a penchant for lipstick and heels, the man pushes all Will’s buttons.
It’s not just the tropical sun that’s heating things up; their chemistry is sizzling.
Will’s been burned before. Can he throw caution to the wind and chart a new course with Eddie by his side? Or will an interfering crew-member steer them into stormy seas?

Yes, Captain is a stand-alone, steamy age-gap MM romance set on a cruise ship in the South Pacific, with a flirty dancer who loves pole dancing and his shy captain. Yes, Captain was previously published as Dance With Me. This re-release includes over 30,000 words of never-before-seen bonus content.



About Ann

By day Ann lives in the corporate world. She’s either lecturing or researching but she’s always writing. She graduated with a PhD in 2016 and is now an over-qualified nerd. She swears like a sailor, and is kind of clueless about important things like asking for her kids initials “B” and “J” tattooed on her foot. She got “the look” from her tattoo artist.

She’s never entirely fit in and loves escaping into a book—whether it’s reading or writing one. But she’s found her tribe now and loves her LGBTQI book world family. She dislikes cooking, but loves eating, can’t figure out technology, but is addicted to it, and her guilty pleasure is Byron Bay Cookies. She might also have a slight reading addiction. 

Follow Ann 

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My Forever

Title: My Forever 

Series: The Infinite Love Series Book 3

Author: Kira Adams 

Genre: Young Adult Romance 

Release Date: April 16th 



Life can be cruel and unexpected, ripping your heart out when you least expect it. You never think it can be you, and then it happens and you’re left to pick up the pieces of your broken life. I was grieving, understandably so, each stage pushing me further and further from him. There was never a doubt in my mind that Parker and I were soul mates. No one had ever made me feel the way he did, and I didn’t want them to. Through all the hard times, he was there. Parker was the only person I could lean on, the only person I could talk to about my feelings. He pulled me out of my depression. He helped me see the light again.

She was hurting, and I wanted to be there for her. When my brother Bo passed, I slipped into a deep depression, and even though I pushed Madalynne away at every turn, she never gave up on me. I owed her my life, and I wanted to spend the rest of mine making her happy. Even with our connections to others, my love for her never wavered. It was something embedded in my bones, so deeply she would always be a part of me. That’s why I never gave up hope that somehow, someday, we would be together again.

My Forever is the third book in the Infinite Love series.





“You’re making the biggest mistake of your life you know,” my best friend, Kendall Walker, states as we approach the front doors of our high school.

“About what?” I ask, my hand on the door handle, frozen, waiting for an answer.

“Pushing Parker away—you’re going to regret it, Maddy. He’s amazing and you know it.” Her green eyes twinkle when she speaks about him. Kendall has a soft spot for Parker because his best friend also happens to be her boyfriend. We all 

grew up together.

“Kendall, you have no idea what I’m going through,” I snap, causing her to jerk backward, her blond curls whipping back with her.

“Oh, I’m sorry I don’t know what it’s like to lose a brother in war…but you forget my mother died when I was four years old. Try experiencing that and then come back and tell me I have no idea what you’re going through.” Her tone is hurtful, and guilt immediately washes over me.

“Kendall.” My fingers reach for her arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

She stares back at me, her icy green eyes piercing through me. I couldn’t move a muscle even if I tried. “You know what, Maddy? Save it. I’m tired of your bitchy attitude and your selfish ways.” She turns on her heel, tearing open the front 

door and stomping inside.

The Series 

About Kira 

Krista Pakseresht has always been a dreamer, from the first time she opened her eyes, creating worlds through words is one thing she is truly talented at. She specializes in Young adult/New adult romance, horror, action, fantasy, and non-fiction under the pen name Kira Adams.

She is the author of the Infinite Love series, the Foundation series, the Darkness Falls series, and the Looking Glass series.

Follow Kira 

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Texting With the Enemy

 Title: Texting With the Enemy
Series: Digital Dating
Author: Marika Ray & Delancey Stewart
Genre: Romantic Comedy

Release Date: April 16, 2021
Grab it FREE in KU:

I was giggling and laughing so hard that I was glad I didn’t drink or have to pee beforehand…” Goodreads Review

What can I say? When a book includes a bunch of texts, wine, quilting, a pig costume, and mannequins, you know it’s going to be a hit!” Goodreads Review

She’s texting him her heart. But she’s got the wrong number….

When Isabel “El” Watson applied for a sales job with her company, she had no idea a jelly donut would explode on her blouse, or that her grumpy boss would practically laugh her out of the interview. Accountants could be salespeople, she was sure of it, even if that jerkface didn’t think so. 

So when a lady at the local wine festival offers her a sales job on the spot at a new boutique winery, El jumps at the chance. She also jumps at the chance to text with the guy who danced with her at the festival. Life was finally looking up.

Boston’s friend, Chad, never should have given Boston’s number to the girl at the wine festival as a joke, but the damage was done. When El sends Boston a text later that night, believing he is Chad, he’s too nice to hurt her feelings by telling her the truth. But there are a few other truths Boston might have thought about: 

Truth #1: He’s her boss

Truth #2: She just accepted a job at his mother’s new winery

Truth #3: He’s always had a crush on her

Even though Boston is no longer El’s grumpy boss, they still work together at his mom’s winery. And while sparks are flying as they get to know each other for real, El’s kind of sweet on the guy who always seems to know just what to say via text too. 

Obviously, things will come to a head. 

Will Boston come clean about the flirty texts being from him? Or will El figure out on her own that she’s been Texting With the Enemy?



“Now let’s run through a mock tasting. Pretend I’m a customer who just walked in.” Boston strode toward the front door of the tasting room. 

That sounded like an awful idea, but I couldn’t help how my gaze ate up the way he filled out those suit pants to perfection. Had he been a soccer player in another life? Maybe a weightlifter? A cyclist? Not sure that kind of leg muscle came from sitting behind a desk all day.

Boston walked toward me with an actual smile on his face and I lost my train of thought, not that the leg muscle thought train had been a good one in the first place. Boston had never smiled like that at me before. I didn’t even know his face could do that. It was disconcerting how much it made my insides feel like a scoop of ice cream on a hot sunny day.

“Nope. That won’t work. You have to smile at the customer, El.” Boston clapped his hands and made me jump.

I guessed it also made me inhale sharply because the next thing I knew, one of the buttons on my polo decided enough was enough and shot straight toward Boston, pinging him on the chest before falling to the floor.

“Oh!” I gasped, one hand going to the gaping hole on my shirt, the other covering my gaping mouth.

Boston made a noise that sounded an awful lot like he was being strangled. He bent down and picked up the button, putting it on the counter and looking away. “Maybe you should just unbutton it and put that last button out of its misery.”

My face flamed a thousand degrees. I looked down to see the remaining button sweating bullets. I took pity on it and unbuttoned it, which saved the button from popping off, but gave a wider expanse of cleavage than I preferred in a work setting. In a stroke of genius, I remembered a tool that would save the day. Spinning around, I took the clip off the cute bulletin board behind me that housed all the laminated wine menus, clamping it onto my shirt instead. A little bulky with a clip holding my polo shirt together, but it would do in a pinch.

“Hi and welcome to The Cunning Ham!” I said brightly, ready to get back into the role play. Probably came off a little too brightly, but I had a wardrobe malfunction to overcome.

Boston inhaled through his nose sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face again before turning back to the bar. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here with me, the hot mess he’d told me I was when I interviewed with him previously.

“What kind of wines do you have here?”

My hands shook, but I was able to slide a plastic menu toward him. “We have quite a few. You look like a red wine kind of guy to me. Am I right?”

A hint of a smile appeared around his mouth and I mentally high-fived myself for keeping my cool. “I am, yes.”

“Great. Our cabernet has a base of blackcurrant, oh-so-subtle licorice, and a hint of blueberry.” I grabbed a glass and poured what I thought was the right amount for a tasting. I slid the glass over to Boston, who swirled it around before sniffing and tasting.

“Not bad. I think there’s some cherry in there too.”

Belatedly, I remembered he told me that. That had been right around the time I was debating if the flecks in his eyes were brown or golden.

“You have a good nose for this,” I murmured, quickly picking myself up and moving on. “How about trying a lighter-bodied red? This is our pinot noir.”

I poured another glass and slid it toward Boston. I must have hit a knot in the wood because the glass snagged and tipped in the blink of an eye. The red wine splashed out of the glass and onto Boston, hitting basically the same spot on his chest the button had. The glass rolled but didn’t shatter. I gasped in horror while Boston jumped back a split second too late.

He stood there staring down at his ruined shirt, his chest rising and falling like a bull before it charged. I was frozen to the spot, ready to be fired for the second time that night. The blood red wine dripped to the floor, making a mess at his feet. When he lifted his head and met my stare, I felt horrible at the anger I saw there. It was tinged with what I could have sworn was exhaustion. An odd mix considering the guy was CEO of a wine distribution in an up-and-coming area of Napa County. How bad could things be as a rich business owner?

He pushed out a big sigh, leaving only the exhaustion. His shoulders dropped and I burst into action a few seconds too late, grabbing the towel and coming around the bar. I swiped at his shirt, finding solid muscles behind the soaked cotton.

“Here. Let me help,” I gushed. “I’m so sorry. The glass just slipped. The wood is very knotty. Or naughty, depending how you look at it, really. I’ve heard a little hydrogen peroxide will take the stain right out. Or I can buy you a new one. No problem.” I kept pawing at him, managing only to widen the stain and bring back the anger on Boston’s face.

“El!” He grabbed my hands, stilling my manic movements. “It’s fine. Let’s just start over. You have to get this right for this weekend.”

I looked into his eyes, realizing we were mere inches apart and my hands were all over his torso. We were so close the clip on my shirt was poking him in the chest every time I inhaled. I took a quick step back and hoped my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. I dropped the towel and my gaze, trying to clean the wine off the floor instead. The floor didn’t have distracting muscles. Boston stepped back too, his fancy dress shoes not quite out of my line of sight. His dress shirt hit the floor in a heap and I nearly wrenched my neck looking up so quickly.

Boston stood there in dress pants and no shirt. Thank goodness I’d already lost my buttons earlier, because my lungs required a full inhale to keep me from passing out. Boston Cunningham, my old boss but kind of my new boss, was exquisite. Shoulder muscles blended into pectoral peaks, sitting atop a full plate of abs that shouldn’t have been possible under all those suits I’d seen him in the last few years.

“Whoa,” I whispered, instantly regretting not saying that just in my head.

Marika Ray is a USA Today Bestselling author of RomComs, spending her time behind a computer crafting stories, walking the beaches of southern California, and making healthy food for her kids and husband whether they like it or not. Prior to writing novels, Marika held various jobs in the finance industry, with private start-up companies, and then in health & fitness. Cats may have nine lives, but Marika believes everyone should have nine careers to keep things spicy.

Delancey Stewart is a USA Today Bestselling author. My contemporary romances run the gamut of settings and setups, but they always deliver humor, heart and heat. It’s a guarantee.

I write from my home in Denver, CO, where I manage a household full of boys and men. Okay, only one man. The hubs. But two boys. I mean, three if you count the hubs. (You see why I do words and not numbers. I was told there’d be no math in this bio. Someone lied.) I grew up in California and have had more jobs than anyone on earth (personal trainer, pharmaceutical rep, copywriter, tech writer, marketing director, wine seller, elementary school teacher… I’m not kidding. The list. It goes on.) But the one I love the most is writing, in part because I get to meet people who love books and stories as much as I do!

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Date Night


❤️ New Release ❤️ 
Release Day – 16th April 
Download Now! 

Author – KM Lowe 
Editor – Karen Sanders 
Designer – Francessca Wingfield 
Genre – contemporary/rom-com 

Valentine’s Day is the day of love. A day where couples show how much they mean to each other. A day where gifts and romantic gestures are a thing. But for Hannah Brently, Valentine’s Day holds nothing but heartache and misery. Being dumped on February 14th, wasn’t her idea of fun. It turns her against the whole institute of love. 

Until Kyle Randall walks into her life. 

Kyle Randall is one of Glasgow’s most eligible Batchelors. He’s the perfect package with wealth and looks. But he isn’t looking for love. Well, that is until his world collides with Hannah’s. 

What could happen when two cynical people meet for the first time? 

Will Valentine’s Day ever be the same again for Hannah and Kyle? 

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

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Dogs of DevTown


Cyberpunk Science Fiction

Date Published: April 16, 2021

Welcome to DevTown.

In this city, holo ads lumber like neon giants seeking advertising targets. Men and women pop Oracle tabs in search of relief or enlightenment or both. Creatures of unknown origin stalk the darkest alleys. In the center of it all, NexDev Tower looms over the city, home to hundreds of floors of top-secret research.

And in its shadow, Shan Hayes kills people for money.

Rejecting the mechanical enhancements so popular in DevTown, Shan needs only two things: The resynth serum that can reshape her body’s entire cellular structure, and her hand-cannon containing a sentient parasite capable of converting her blood into weaponized wasps.

As a hired gun for various crime syndicates, there’s little of the city’s underbelly Shan hasn’t encountered. But when a longtime business associate hires her to track down an underling who’s vanished into the neon night, Shan finds DevTown still holds secrets more deadly and terrifying than anything she could imagine.


The target pauses, turns to look at Shan. Here in the alley, shadow swallows his face. Emerald neon reflects off his mirrorshades, but it’s not the only surface catching the soft glow. As he turns, light flashes around his knees and continues to his feet.

Mech legs.

As he stares her down through green-glinting shades, a hissing whine fills the alley. He turns just as the sound reaches a crescendo, and as it releases in a blast, he bounds away. The single leap carries him thirty feet, and the instant he lands, there’s another blast, carrying him another thirty feet.

The mech legs must have some sort of repulsor technology. Shan has heard of newer models which concentrate electromagnetic fields and use them to propel users at high velocities, but it doesn’t matter how his models work. Shan won’t catch him without enhancements of her own. There isn’t a single mech installed on her body, but she doesn’t need mechs. Not when she has resynth.

All these thoughts pass through her head in an instant. Before the target lands, Shan swallows a handful of CalPills. The large yellow capsules land in her stomach like a ton of bricks, but she needs the calories for what comes next. She slides a syringe from the clip on her belt and plunges the needle into her thigh.

She runs.

Resynth serum, that cocktail of proteins and viruses, floods her bloodstream, issuing commands to each cell it touches. The cells comply, transforming to accommodate the design coded into the serum. Heat ignites in her belly as the CalPills fuel the change. Shan’s joints rearrange, her muscles grow, her tendons expand and contract, reforming her body until she isn’t running, but galloping, using the force of four limbs to chase her target. She is more than human now. She is a predator, and her target is prey, no matter how much organic tissue he’s traded for metal.

Thanks to those mech legs, her target is fast, but she’s faster still. The pavement is cool and rough on her palms. The scents of DevTown sharpen as air rushes past her face. Her lips twist in a bitter smile. No hunt is complete without a chase.

A news report on the old flatscreen details another attack in another alley. In a dry voice with a matter-of-fact tone, the anchor narrates grainy footage of bone-thin men and women overwhelming a victim, mentions the growing trend of corpses covered in bite wounds. She relays the authorities’ promise to investigate the violence and provides a phone number for anyone with information to share.

Literal zombies is what they are,” says the bartender, wiping a pint glass with a rag. “People comin’ back from the dead and bitin’ chunks outta folks.”

Shan grunts, but offers no comment. She doesn’t care what he thinks. Theories won’t improve the streets of DevTown, but that’s never stopped conversation at Infusion.

Aw, not this again,” shouts a voice behind Shan. “We got no proof the shamblers ever died to begin with.”

Shamblers. It’s the term used by anyone unbound by journalistic integrity, referencing the clumsy way the attackers move.

Every single one of ’em looks like a walkin’ corpse. Add the bite marks, and how they don’t seem to feel nothin’ when folks fight back, it makes perfect sense.” The bartender sets down the pint glass and leans into the bar. Slender mech fingers drum a staccato on old wood. “I bet it’s Oracle tabs makin’ people do it. Ever notice how many of those victims turn up in Tabber Alley?”

Shut up,” says another voice. “Oracle can’t raise the dead.”

You sure?” says the bartender. “Oracle’s the newest drug on the street. No one’s studyin’ it. Tabbers know what happens after they swallow, but what about after they die?”

The door to Infusion slams open. Shan glances over her shoulder, half-expecting to find a bone-white, withered corpse of a person. It would shamble in, fall upon one of Infusion’s patrons and bite into his neck, sucking everything out until the patron is twitching on the stained floor and the newcomer’s body bloats with fluid.

But that’s not what she sees. Instead, it’s three men. They’re pale, but not bleached white, and they certainly aren’t wasting away. Their arms are thick, their chests wide. As one, they stride up to the bar. There’s no sizing up the patrons, no scanning for dangerous characters. Each man’s gate is purposeful, fearless. One settles into a stool next to Shan, and the others wait behind him, snapping at the bartender for attention. After they order a round of drinks, an uneasy silence falls over Infusion. Nobody offers another opinion on Oracle tabs, nobody theorizes on the shamblers’ origin. Everyone stares at their glasses, but the bar’s collective focus centers on the newcomers.

You Shan Hayes?” says one man. His voice is a dagger, piercing the silence and leaving a gaping wound in its wake.

Who’s asking?”

The man’s lips quirk in a smile. “Heard we might find her here.”

Shan holds his stare, tracking his companions in the corner of her eye. One has shifted a hand inside his black trench coat; the other drifts sideways, flanking her. She doesn’t know who sent them, but they aren’t here for a friendly chat.

So Shan acts before they do. She throws an elbow back, sinking it into the gut of the man shifting behind her. As he grunts, more from surprise than pain, she keeps turning, spinning off her seat and using her other hand to snatch his glass of whiskey and hurl it at his companion in the stool beside her. He dodges the projectile, and it shatters in a spray of gold and glitter. That split second of hesitation is all she needs. She shuffles away until they’re in front of her, the bar at their backs. At least she’s not surrounded anymore.

The guy reaching into his jacket withdraws his hand to reveal a weapon. It’s not a gun or even a knife, though. This is a long black baton with ice blue spirals running up and down its length. He lunges at her, lifting the weapon over his head. Reckless.

With ease, she sidesteps the attack and throws herself into a counterstrike. Her knuckles crash into his jaw, but a jarring vibration runs from her wrist to her shoulder. He barely reacts to the perfectly placed blow, now whirling toward her. He even has the audacity to smile.

Of course. He’d used mechs to reinforce his bones. Not a terrible investment for someone on his career path.

The guy with the baton lurches toward her, and Shan reacts instantly. She grabs a syringe from her belt, plunges it into her thigh, and throws the empty canister at her attacker. He dodges, and she backs away, waiting for the serum to do its work.

The cells in her arms split, change, and die, burning calories at a rapid rate. Her stomach feels empty, and the emptiness spreads to her entire body as the serum demands more fuel.

Kim would not approve of this.

Shan forces herself to focus through the sudden hunger, the lightheadedness, the feverish disorientation. Her right arm has grown razor-sharp spines along the edge of the forearm, and her left has changed into a massive claw as hard as a diamond.

This time, when the guy swings at her, Shan plants her feet and blocks with her spiny forearm. His elbow catches on the fresh blades, and when she jerks her arm aside, it shreds his mech. The club rattles to the floor, but he stays upright. Synthetic skin hangs in ribbons around the ruined chrome. He sneers.

Shan sways where she stands, her body burning through calories at an unsustainable rate. She has to finish this. Without CalPills, she can’t hold this form long.

She launches herself at the man with the shredded arm, bringing the full weight of her claw into the crook of his neck. Now he falls, legs buckling under the force of her blow. The claw sinks into his shoulder. It isn’t heavy enough to sever an entire mech, but its serrations still cut partway through. Shan rips the claw free, and he collapses, twitching in the chaos of shorted and severed connections.

The clock is ticking. Shan’s growing weaker by the second.

She kicks a loose barstool at one attacker and lunges at the other. It’s a reckless move, but she doesn’t have the time to maneuver so there’s nobody behind her. She must rely on her own speed, hoping to finish one guy before the other recovers.

In the blink of an eye, she’s on top of her target. The spines on her forearm pierce flesh and tendons on his chest with ease, and when she tears the arm free, he gives a low, gurgling moan. Blood sprays a nearby table. Her stomach roars with hunger, and her head vibrates, but she can’t stop yet.

She whirls to face the last of them, but he’s ready for her. The barstool she kicked is his weapon now. He’s already mid-swing, and the seat catches her under the ear.

Darkness swallows her.

About the Author

Taylor Hohulin is a radio personality by morning, a science fiction author by afternoon, and asleep by 9:30. He is the author of The Marian Trilogy, Tar, Your Best Apocalypse Now, and other genre-bending stories. He lives in West Des Moines, Iowa with his wife, where they are owned by two cats and a dog.

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Agustina de Aragón


Historical Romance, Historical Spanish Biographical Fiction

Release Date: April 16, 2021

Barcelona, Spain, 1803. Agustina Saragossa, the youngest daughter of a bladesmith, sneaks around the military barracks, yet not to snag a husband as everyone thinks. She loathes the privileged officers and untrained peasants who call themselves soldiers. Her only purpose is to remain abreast of all military secrets as Napoleon Bonaparte swiftly rises through the French ranks.

The chance meeting between Agustina and Spanish Sergeant Juan Roca enrages her while he is instantly struck by the dark-haired beauty with fire in her blood. Relentlessly, he pursues her, despite her fury, and the sparring begins between them.

As the war between the British and French progresses, Spain becomes trapped in the middle until Napoleon deviously orders the invasion of their country. Yet, the French Emperor soon discovers the task is not so easy when Agustina and Juan heroically join the fight for freedom.


El Primero

Zaragoza, Spain

May 1, 1856

Lucia hurried to the front window of her parents’ meat market and peered outside. “There she is again, Mamá! Every morning the old woman strolls barefooted around the

Portillo and so proudly with her head held high and a contented smile on her face. You would think she carried the world in her pocket.”

Isabel smiled as she continued working behind the counter. “Oh, but she does, my daughter. Yet, not in her pocket. It is draped about her neck and pinned to her blouse.”

Lucia squinted, trying to see what she spoke of. “I only see those gaudy necklaces and brooches.”

They are anything but gaudy. Those are precious medals of heroism gifted to her by the highest courts of Spain.”

Lucia looked over at her mother and laughed. “You are poking fun, Mamá. She is an old woman and so penniless, she cannot even afford a pair of shoes! I know she

lives in that tiny cottage on the outskirts of town. Eugenio and I followed her once. She walks and walks, then just sits upon her porch all day. She is no one special.”

Isabel shook her head, untied her apron, and joined her daughter. When she glanced out the window and saw the woman, it took her a moment to speak. “I have

told you so often, Lucia, do not judge by your eyes alone. There is so much you cannot see. That dear woman deserves our utmost respect and devotion.”

Lucia frowned. “For what?”

For her remarkable heroism during the most devastating war in our history. If not for her, we Spaniards could not hold our heads up so high with pride.”

Lucia fell silent for a moment, puzzling over her words. “You never mentioned her to me before.” “I have been waiting for the right time to tell you. You are barely fourteen. Yet

perhaps the time has come. She was only a few years older than you when her story begins.”

Please, Mamá, tell me now.”

Isabel watched the precious woman walk over to the riverside and toss a few seeds to the ducks and gulls. She remembered when her mother first told her the story and

how captivated she was by it. Finally, she wrapped her arm around her daughter and looked into her beautiful brown eyes.

Her story is so much more than a tale of war, tremendous courage and loss. It is one of the greatest love stories you will ever hear. And it cannot be told without

including the latter which is why I waited. But you, especially, will find it fascinating, Lucia. Already, I see similar fire and passion in you.”

Her mother’s words captured her attention, and she was bursting with curiosity.

What is her name?”

Agustina Raimunda Saragossa. While she is no one, she is everyone. Come. Your father and brother will be fishing for a few more hours. Let us sit at one of the

tables and I will fill your ears with such a beautiful story you will never again look upon that old woman as you did today.”

About the Author

Gail Meath is an award-winning author. She writes historical romance fiction with characters who come to life and stay with you long after you’re finished reading. Her subgenres include westerns, murder mysteries and biographies. And her meticulously researched historical facts are sifted throughout each book, educating readers along the way without them even knowing it.

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Hold The Door by Vinni George

Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway: Hold the Door By Vinni George

Open Doors, Book 1

One hidden crush. One bunch of plastic mistletoe. One alcohol-fueled kiss. One set of taillights as Max Martino left town.

Sixteen years later…

Sam Addison hates change, and his company’s new merger is stretching him to his limit. When Sam finds out an older, hotter, and amazingly talented Max Martino is part of the acquisition, he knows the only way to keep his sanity is to avoid Max—and their history—at any cost.

Max never planned to settle down, but recently he’s been pining for roots. A new job, a new city, and a second chance with Sam makes the thought of staying in one place exciting for the first time ever. But the harder Max pushes, the farther Sam runs, sometimes literally, and Max begins to wonder if Sam can ever let go of the biggest mistake Max ever made—leaving.

But maybe a second chance at forever is as simple as holding the door open for love.

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“You’ve probably already figured it out, but this is the Museum of Photographic Arts. I thought you’d like it because, you know, you’re a photographer and everything. And I don’t know if you know this, but this museum is one of only three in the whole country specifically dedicated to photography. I thought that was pretty cool.” Sam took a breath and turned to look at me as we walked into the lobby. I hadn’t actually figured out where we were. I had been busy snapping pictures in the park as I walked from the parking lot, and I hadn’t noticed the signs until he’d mentioned the name. “I didn’t know that. That’s so cool.” The fact that Sam had thought of this particular outing for us with me in mind was more than cool. So much more than cool, actually. I was oddly verklempt over it, but I swallowed the emotion and turned, beaming at Sam. “I have to warn you about something, though,” he said, meeting my eyes. That sounded ominous. “Um, okay…” “I’m a plaque reader,” he said, completely deadpan. His face was expressionless, and I actually couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so I hedged. “Okay. I think you need to explain.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “I mean, people hate going to museums with me because I have to read every single museum label next to every single item. Every word. Like I almost can’t move on until I do. So, yeah.” He shuffled his feet on the shiny epoxy floor, his face lit by the blue lights of the MOPA welcome desk behind him. My hand twitched toward my bag, itching to grab my camera and capture his face in the moment. Instead, I moved my twitching hand to his shoulder. “Oh no. That’s a really terrible affliction,” I said. I tried and failed to mimic his deadpan, but I couldn’t keep the laughter off my face or out of my voice. “Are you teasing me right now? I’m serious, Max!” Sam huffed. I shook my head, my smile getting wider. “Sam, I don’t mind. I like to read the labels too. It doesn’t bother me.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “You say that now but see how you feel in two hours when we’re still in the same room.” “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Let’s go.” We made donations to the museum since they had a pay-what-you-like admission policy and made our way into the exhibition areas. True to his word, Sam read every word of every label. Since I didn’t have anywhere else to be and I was with someone who was as into the exhibits as I was, we stood shoulder to shoulder and read together, taking way longer than we needed to in front of each piece. The constant feel of Sam’s shoulder brushing mine had me desperate to reach for his hand, and as we moved into the special exhibition gallery, I couldn’t take it anymore. Sam came to a stop in front of the first image, a small black-and-white portrait of an older woman, and my hand again twitched toward my camera. I wanted the picture of Sam looking intently at a picture, but the No Cameras sign kept me from snapping the shot. The irony of being unable to take photos in a photography museum wasn’t lost on me. I watched him for another second, my palms sweating and my heart flipping over in my chest. He was beautiful in profile, and then he twisted and shot a small smile my direction before turning back to the picture. I couldn’t resist anymore. I had to touch him. I walked up behind him and ran my hand from his shoulder to his wrist, eliciting a shiver, before I twined our fingers together.

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About the Author

Vinni George has been a lover of romance novels (of all shapes, sizes, and colors) since she first got her hands on one of her grandmother’s Harlequins and has never looked back. She lives in Ohio with her two favorite guys (her husband and son) and, hopefully—one day—a dog. When not writing her own stories, she can be found helping to polish other people’s novels. In her spare time, Vinni dabbles in performance art, quilting, and various culinary pursuits and enjoys traveling.

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Posted in Release Blitz

The Bratva’s Stolen Bride


Here comes the bride. My bride.

She just doesn’t know it yet…

I’ve carved my name into this world by taking what I want. Born into the streets and raised on brutality and violence, it was the Bratva that took me and made me a man. 

I decided years ago that there was no room for beauty or goodness in my life. But that goes out the window when temptation falls right into me; literally right into me, and right into my bed.

Zoey Stone is a sweetness I’ve never tasted and a softness these rough hands have never touched before. The pretty little rich girl’s had all the right friends, gone to all the right schools, and played by all the right rules. That is, until she met me.

It should have been a one time thing. But when I learn her parents have promised her to another man to cement a business agreement, there’s no way in hell I’m walking away.

Touching her was wrong. Doing it again could start a war. But I saw her first. I tasted her first. I claimed her first.

Like I said, I take what I want. No mercy, no weakness, no hesitation, and no damn way is she marrying some other man.

Zoey’s been mine since the second I laid eyes on her. And I’ll do anything to keep what’s mine.

…Even if that means stealing her from her very own wedding.

Heads up! This Bratva captive romance is guaranteed to leave your kindle steaming!

Safe, absolutely no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a perfect happy ever after.

A reader first and foremost, Jagger Cole cut his romance writing teeth penning various fan-fiction stories years ago. After deciding to hang up his writing boots, Jagger worked in advertising pretending to be Don Draper. It worked enough to convince a woman way out of his league to marry him, though, which is a total win.

Now, Dad to two little princesses and King to a Queen, Jagger is thrilled to be back at the keyboard.

When not writing or reading romance books, he can be found woodworking, enjoying good whiskey, and grilling outside–rain or shine.

You can find all of his books at

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