Em
Petrova lives in Backwoods, Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a
Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff. Her dream is to buy an old pickup and
travel small-town USA meeting people and hearing their stories. Her heroes are
hardworking—in bed and out—and she is known for panty-scorching erotic romance.
Weary from a messy break up two weeks before her wedding Coldra Ashe decided to start over in her hometown of Richmond, Virginia. Returning home for the first time in many years she soon discovers secrets from her mother, Lauren Ashe’s past. Her mother’s lies quickly wreak havoc on Coldra’s life and her mother’s secrets will test her tenacity.
CHAPTER ONE: The First Sign
Coldra
2012
Our wedding is only five months away. I sat across my dining room table. Jamal kept playing with his cell phone. His text messages kept pinging. In the past few months he was always busy when it came time to discuss wedding plans.
"So here is the final proof for the wedding invitation.” I pushed it across the table.
Jamal let out a big sigh. "Is everything alright babe? We're just getting started. That is unless you want to cancel." I let out a chuckle. Jamal continued to stare at the invitation.
Jamal sighed again.
"You look tired maybe we can pick this up tomorrow”, I said.
"Col, we need to talk."
I pushed him out the door. "We can talk tomorrow."
I sat down on my couch and began to cry. Maybe I was the fool by refusing to believe what was obvious. I knew it was over. Tomorrow I'd meet him for lunch and I would ask him point blank.
****
I was supposed to have my bridal shower this weekend. I guess the other woman living with my ex-fiancé made sure that didn’t happen. I arrived to find my mother, Lauren, waiting for me at the loft-style apartment right off of Twentieth Street downtown that I’d rented. After three years of scrimping and saving for my wedding, my three thousand dollars served another purpose. I should have been married to Jamal now, but his affair dictated otherwise. Seeing my mother’s face reminded me of her life lesson about rainy day funds. “Every woman should have a rainy day fund, for fair-weather people.” Her advice proved to be right. At five foot three she barely saw over her luxury SUV’s steering wheel. I was quite amused at her navigating through the building’s turnabout. She didn’t care; I was with her at the dealership the day she picked it up. It was one of the many lavish birthday gifts she received from my father over the years. We had that kind of life.
“Dressed for the spring, I see. You couldn’t wait to put your capris on. Could you?”
“As a matter of fact, I think I look exceptionally good in my capris for my age. And besides, you are living on the waterfront, so I had to look the part.”
Living right off of the river was going to be perfect, which was why I didn’t have to visit the apartment before signing the contract. I knew my city which influenced my decision to move back home. Lord knows I needed some peace and tranquility. At night I would be able to sit on my deck and watch the city lights reflect on the river’s water. In the morning the sun would shine on my deck. Unfortunately, the beauty of my hometime also reflected the darkness of the economy. There were many abandoned factory buildings up for sale.
“How was your trip?” my mother asked me right when I walked in the door.
“It was uneventful. I packed my bags and left. I hope my furniture has made it to the apartment.”
“It did. I had the movers place everything by room.”
My mother started eyeing me. I hate it when she does that.
“Uneventful. When my clients used to say it, it meant the exact opposite.”
“Mom, it’s stuffy.” I walked over to the factory-size window and attempted to open it.
“Ow…oww.” I had put my all into punching Jamal. He didn’t even have the decency to wait before he moved his other woman into our home. How did I find out? Well, the day I was supposed to get on the road, I had to pick up one last box. He was adamant about me coming to get it. This a-hole answered the door with the same executive assistant who was at his beck and call. He put the box in my car and expected a hug. Well, he got my fist instead.
“Are you okay? Let me see. Your hand is swollen. You need to see a doctor.”
“Ice will be fine, Mother. I am fine.”
“Your hand is swollen. You should see a doctor soon. Uneventful…yeah, right,” my mother said. “How about telling me how your hand became swollen? How are you supposed to hold babies with a swollen hand?”
“Babies?” Jill’s mother, my mother’s cousin, had wasted no time telling my mother that her daughter would be my boss.
Can anyone keep a secret in this family? I thought.
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything, Mother.”
Her eyes widened, then became like slits, a sure sign she was perturbed. “You know your cousin can’t keep a secret. I already knew you were going to work at the daycare. I personally think it is beneath you to work in that science experiment.”
“Just because she is not in a nice neighborhood does not mean the daycare is a science experiment.”
“I want to know what happened to your hand!” she replied.
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, it is so not important. I sorta, kinda hit Jamal.”
“You hit Jamal!”
“Yes, I went to pick up my last box, and his ‘other woman’ answered the door.”
“You hit him?”
I threw up my hands, waving her off.
“Go ahead, Mom, I’m ready. Let me have it.”
Brookita R Braxton, an Air Force Veteran and a government employee, has always been intrigued by the mother/ daughter relationship dynamic. After being given up for adoption at an early age and losing her adopted mother to a terminal illness, her curiosity evolved into story lines. Brookita lives in Alexandria, Virginia. She attends church and spends time with her family and friends. This is her first novel.
What
happens when you start falling for your worst enemy? Fans of Abbi Glines and
Monica Murphy will relish this addictive novel of smoking-hot seduction—and revenge
gone so wrong, it’s right.
I
wasn’t always this jaded. I had a clear head, things I wanted out of life, and
a concise plan on how to get there. For being only twenty-one, I pretty much
had it all figured out. Until the day my cousin died.
I spent months going over all the details surrounding her death, trying to
figure out how I missed the signs, and the only thing I could come up with was
she would still be alive if it wasn’t for one person: her professor. So I
transferred to his college, enrolled in his class, and set my new plan in
motion.
First I’ll seduce him. Then I’ll ruin him. I’ve just got to stay strong and not
let his charm and my emotions get the best of me. Because someone has to pay
for her death. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to break Noah.
Missy
Johnson is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in a
small town in Victoria, Australia, with her husband and her confused pets (a
dog who thinks that she is a cat, a cat who thinks he is a dog . . . you get
the picture). When she’s not writing, she can usually be found looking for
something to read.
Ashley Suzanne has
been writing for as long as she can remember. As a youngster, she was always
creating stories and talking to her imaginary friends. Thankfully, her parents
also carried this love of fiction, and helped her grow into the bestselling
author she is today. When Ashley isn’t coming up with her next story, you'll
most likely find her on the couch, telling her husband all about her new book
boyfriend, or spending quality time with her two gremlins . . . er, adorable
children.
“So,
we’ve discussed the main plot of the novel. Now we need to search out the
subplots. What else was going on? Do the secondary characters possess any
outstanding characteristics that would encourage . . .” How is this even
warranted as a curriculum for a third-year student? I can remember doing this
when I was in high school. At least I know I’ll ace the class—not that it
matters, anyway.
Before
he has a chance to finish giving out the assignment, the majority of the class
begins shuffling around, gathering their belongings and walking toward the
door.
“Okay,
I guess our time for today is done. Finish the last five chapters before we
meet on Wednesday.” A few students groan as they’re leaving. I take this as my
cue as well.
I’m
surprised at how quickly time passes. When the room is completely empty, I
gather all my belongings and toss them into my bag. Taking a deep breath, I
slowly stand and move toward his desk. He’s watching me with a curious
expression. I half smile, drop my bag to the floor, and sit on the desk in
front of his . . . legs crossed like a lady, of course.
“So,
Zara . . . that’s a rather unique name.”
“Is
it?” I raise my eyebrows. “Nothing seems unusual anymore. The girl at the gas
station on the way here had a name tag that said Joya. You have stars calling
their babies things like North West. Zara is normal in comparison.”
“Fair
point,” he says and laughs. It’s an engaging laugh that makes me want to smile,
but I don’t. “So, your transcripts say you were taking classes at a community
college and were supposed to transfer in at the beginning of the term. Why are
you just now arriving?” His brow furrows.
“Personal
reasons. I’m very lucky I didn’t have to wait until the beginning of the next
term.” Truth be told, I barely mustered the courage to show my face here. I had
panic attacks for weeks, my mom begging me to stay behind and go to a state
school, but I remembered why I was doing all of this. So, I put my big-girl
panties on, gave myself a pep talk, and drove across two states to get here.
And I was very lucky. Had the admissions direction not known Karly I would have
been sent packing, but the man felt pity for me, which worked out in my favor.
“Your
high school transcripts have credits from all over the place. Why’d you move
around so much?” he asks.
“Army
brat,” I nonchalantly say. To anyone with common sense, that’s all the
explanation needed. Service members don’t stay in one place for too long, and
neither do their families.
“Ah.”
He nods, getting it right away. “Must be hard packing your life up all the
time?”
Back
it up, sir. I’m here to get in your head, not the other way around.
I
shrug, not liking where this is going. My life is just that . . . mine. I don’t
need anyone poking his nose around where it doesn’t belong. Especially him. I’m
here to do one thing, and I won’t let his attempts at kindness distract me from
it. Gotta keep the target locked in the crosshairs.
“It
gets easier. I’ve already read through the syllabus for this class and I’m
pretty confident I’m going to rock it.”
He
raises his eyebrow and leans back in his chair.
“Is
that so? Don’t get too cocky. I’ve heard I can be a pretty hard professor.”
So
I’ve heard, you perverted fuck.
“I’m
not cocky. Just confident,” I say, my voice cool. “If that’s all, may I be
excused? I’m supposed to meet with my counselor before she leaves for the
afternoon.”
He
stares at me for a moment and then nods. “We’ll be analyzing Pride and
Prejudice on Wednesday. We spent last week reading the material, so if you
need the extra time to catch up to everyone, that’s fine, just don’t take too
long. There’s a few sheets that go along with the book to document the
characteristics of each character. You’ll need to get with a partner for those
notes. It will be required for the final at the end of the semester.” This
is his version of hard? I’ll eat him for breakfast.
“Thanks,
Professor Bain, but if I were being honest, Pride and Prejudice is one
of my favorite books. I’ve read it at least five times. Thanks for the
heads-up, though. I’m sure I’ll be able to help anyone else that falls behind.
Who knows, one of these boys could end up being my Mr. Darcy.”
I wink
at him and walk out of the classroom, leaving him behind, lost for words.
Mosttwenty-one-year-olds don’t read, let alone read the classics. Or for fun.
(This is the third book in the Pepper Jones series. The following description contains spoilers for Pepped Up and All Pepped Up. It is highly recommended that you read the books in order.)
Pepper is finally a senior, and she’s determined to defend her national cross-country title. Although Jace is busy with the demands of college football, he’s still at Pepper’s side, supporting her goals. But is she taking her renewed enthusiasm for training too far?
As Jace and Pepper focus on their athletic ambitions, they discover that Jace’s social status has followed him to college, despite his attempt to keep a low profile. With her boyfriend as an idol on campus, Pepper discovers that she might just be a target to those who find Jace threatening.
Are Jace and Pepper strong enough to withstand the pressure from those who want something from them? It won’t be easy fighting for her title and her boyfriend, but nothing easy is worth winning… or keeping.
Spending the night in Jace Wilder’s dorm room isn’t exactly the same as sprinting up a hill as fast as I can, but it has a similar effect. When I close my eyes to fall asleep, Jace’s arm draped lazily across me, my emotions are under control. The anger and confusion haven’t disappeared entirely, but Jace’s strength and love help wash them away from the surface so I can breathe freely again. His steady breathing beside me tells me that being with me helps to soothe his tension as well. Knowing this, I fall asleep with a smile on my face. We might have people against us, but they don’t know what they’re fighting against.
Ali Dean lives in Colorado with her husband, twin todders, and golden retriever. In addition to reading and writing, she loves the outdoors- everything from marathon training and biking to snowboarding and skiing.
