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Death is preferable to what awaits in her forgotten past…

Coffee is the only thing standing between Grace Debry and a straight-jacket since she gave up swearing in honor of her foster mom. A rash of break-ins make her wonder if caffeine is enough. Especially when the notes left behind make it personal. Her brand-spanking new life is more nightmare than dream-come-true.

All Matthew Duncan has wanted since hiring Grace is to have her in his passenger seat, his arms, and his bed. As they grow closer, the feisty brunette proves to be a handful—one Matt is happy to hold. He’s determined to give her the happily ever after she stopped believing in years ago. Unfortunately for Grace, it will take more than Matt’s considerable resolve to keep her safe.

Three’s a crowd—not that he cares. Every move she makes, every breath she takes … he’s watching. Waiting to reclaim what he lost.

Angel Nicholas pens another wildly passionate romantic suspense with Dying for Love.

Excerpt:

Her phone rang before she made her escape. She cocked a hip on the desk and answered.

“Grace?” a soft female voice enquired. “Grace Debry?”

“This is she.”

“The same Grace Debry who used to live with the Wells in Indiana?”

Straightening, Grace frowned. “Who is this?”

“You probably don’t remember me, dear. This is Mrs. Growsky from next door. You used to come over and help with my flower beds.”

“Of course I remember! How are you? Is everything okay? How did you find me? Oh, Mr. Wells has my information. How are you?”

She had fond memories of Mrs. Growsky. Hot summer days and warm fragrant dirt between her fingers. She had relaxed and shared thoughts she never would have dared otherwise. Mrs. Growsky had been a wonderful confidante and encouraging mentor during her high-school years. “Oh, I’m fine. How are you?”

“Great. My job here is great, I love my place and I have wonderful neighbors.” She had wanted to keep in touch, but knew better. When Laura died, she’d severed ties.

Mrs. Growsky calling out of the blue tightened her stomach.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling. To tell you the truth, I debated long and hard about this. I’ve had your new phone number and address for ages, you know. I knew you were uncomfortable with me asking to stay in contact, but I wanted to know you were doing okay after you left.”
Grace furiously blinked back tears. Of course, Matt chose that moment to walk through her door. One look at her face and he shut the door behind him, frowning. He reached for the phone. Unable to speak over the emotion clogging her throat, she shook her head. He sat on the edge of a chair. All this time, Laura’s neighbor had watched over her.

Mrs. Growsky sighed. “Some strange things have been going on. Since they seem to involve you, I had to warn you.”

Warm fuzzies banished to Neverland, Grace’s nerves tightened again. “Warn me?”

“Yes, dear. I’m sorry to alarm you, but… Well…”

“Please. Just tell me.”

“Darrell Wells was murdered last week.”

“What?” Her gaze flew to Matt. He was by her side in an instant. He tried to take the phone from her, but she jerked free and very carefully lowered herself into her chair.

“Well, he was actually murdered about a week earlier, but no one discovered the poor man until that nice sheriff came along.” She hmm’d softly. “Where did he say he was from?”

“Why would anyone want to hurt Mr. Wells? He kept to himself to such an extent he was practically a hermit. Without Laura around, he probably became exactly that. What happened?”

“I don’t know, dear. Several people have been asking about you, though.”

She dropped her head to the desk, vaguely aware of Matt rubbing her back and murmuring…something. Oh, he still wanted the phone.

“What?” Her brain felt fuzzy.

“A man came by two weeks ago. Last I saw, he was headed to the Wells’ house.”

“Looking for me?” she repeated faintly.

“Yes. Then, a little over a week later, that nice sheriff stopped by. He asked about you too. He showed me a picture of your mother. My goodness, you’re her spitting image. I knew right away he was talking about you.”

Goosebumps chased one another across her skin. “He had a picture of my mother?”

She’d never seen a picture of her mother. The foster-system workers had explained there’d been nothing with her when she was brought to them. Yet some stranger had a photo. Of her mother. She couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around that.

“She was beautiful. What a shame she died so young. You really are her mirror image, dear. I could have been looking at a photo of you. Of course, I knew it wasn’t you because the photo was old and worn. The clothing styles weren’t right either. And her hair, my goodness. No, I can’t imagine you doing that to your beautiful hair. All those glorious curls, and your mother chopped them so short.” She tsked. “A crime, that’s what it is. You’re still wearing yours long, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Growsky had always rambled. Not that she was going to complain when she was rambling about a mother Grace had never laid eyes on. At least, not that she could recall. Obviously, she’d seen her as an infant. Now she was rambling. In her thoughts. Which seemed worse, somehow. She shook off some of the numbness.

“Do the police have any leads on Mr. Wells’ murder?”

“I couldn’t say. They wouldn’t talk about that with me. They interviewed me about the man who’d been by a few weeks ago. I cooperated, I assure you. Told them everything I could remember about him and what we talked about.”

“I’m sure you were very helpful. Would you mind telling me?”

“Of course, dear. I rather thought you’d like to know, seeing as how he asked about you. I even wrote down all the details. Let’s see. Where did I put it?” Paper rustled. “He was a tall man, taller than my Lawrence was, making him over six feet, I would guess. Shaggy dark-blonde hair, which I know for a fact he colors. He was in his fifties. No man his age would still have blonde hair.” Her little sniff of disapproval brought an unwitting smile. “Blue eyes and a strong nose. Had an athletic build too. One of those men who played some sport when he was younger and kept active as he aged. My Lawrence was like that, you know.”

Grace was peripherally aware of Matt staring at her. She wrapped the phone cord around her finger. “I do remember you telling me that. What else do you remember? What did he want to know?”

“Well, I can tell you, I didn’t like him. Despite his movie-star good looks, something was off, if you know what I mean. I’d say he has a mean streak. So I played dumb. Said I remembered seeing a black-haired, green-eyed little girl staying with my neighbors for a while, but you hadn’t been around in a long time. He wanted to know where you are now. Far as I knew, you hadn’t stayed in touch after you left. Told him about Laura dying too and how Darrell hadn’t been involved with you children. I assured him Darrell wouldn’t know anything about any of you, but he insisted on talking to him anyway.” She sighed. “I do wish I’d done something. I knew nothing good could come of it. I feel so bad about Darrell dying all alone like that.”

“It is not your fault. I doubt you could have done anything for Mr. Wells, but you’ve been very helpful to me. And the police too, I’m sure. Thank you so much for calling. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch with you. I just… I didn’t…” She bit the tender underside of her thumb. Nobody cared about her issues.

“Oh, you don’t have to explain, dear. Growing up in foster care is difficult. You don’t expect things to last, especially relationships. I’m always here if you need an ear, though. You remember that.”

“I will. And I promise…” Grace hesitated. Promises weren’t her forte. She avoided them like the plague. Still, Mrs. Growsky deserved that much. She forced the words past the constriction in her throat. “I promise to stay in touch. As a matter of fact, why don’t you give me your address and phone number. I’ve moved a few times and I’m afraid I don’t remember it.”

She flicked a glance at the man hovering protectively when she finally hung up. Approval softened the hard lines of Matt’s face. Why that mattered, she didn’t know. Or didn’t want to know. Same difference.

“Well?”

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Braedric’s Bane is the fourth and final installment in the Golden Key Chronicles, a HarperImpulse Fantasy Romance Novella series by AJ Nuest.

I LOVED this love story and this series. Ms Nuest sucked me in with her rich writing style, smoothly delivering me into the heart of a mysterious fantasy kingdom. Along with a strong, feisty heroine, charming, sexy hero, intriguingly evil villain and lovable secondary characters, The Golden Key Chronicles took me on a wild fantasy ride full of action, intrigue and purely sexy fun.

I’m looking forward to future adventures penned by Ms Nuest’s talented hand.

5 Bells & Whistles

RELEASE ANNOUNCEMENT!

Candra’s Freedom, Book II

The Golden Key Chronicles
Available NOW on Amazon
 
The key would unlock his future,
and the safety of his kingdom,
but he never imagined the sorceress
would unlock his heart…
 

Lost in a world she doesn’t recognize, Rowena struggles to find her place. Yet her abilities with a blade and the loyalty of a fierce falcon don’t discourage the heated advances of the handsome Prince Caedmon, and the
connection between them seems much deeper than her troubled heart can recall.

If you are still in love with the Disney princes of your youth, and wish one would show up in your bedroom late at night, then you will love this breathtaking fantasy romance series from AJ Nuest!

~ * ~

Water rained down his body. His sodden shirt clung to each sharply defined muscle in his chest, his leather pants glued to the contours of his rigid thighs. Her heart tripped a beat at the magnitude of sheer, gritty determination forged in the scowl on his brow.

Prince Caedmon was a man on a mission. That was a nice idea for a change.

He finally made landfall, fisted his hands and increased his pace. A few trumpeters blew a half-hearted attempt at announcing his arrival, but their notes blurted like a fat man’s flatulence and faded listlessly in the air. Some people knelt, others remained standing, and several bobbed like apples in a rain barrel, unsure which action to take.

Another victory at denouncing their absurd rituals. Rowena chuckled under her breath. Bravo, sir. Well done.

He locked onto her and she grinned, even when his penetrating stare pierced her like an arrow and he clenched his scruffy jaw. The real icing on the cake would be if he ignored his father. But no, that would never happen. Even as the thought occurred,
Prince Caedmon strode straight for King Austiere’s open arms.

Except…wait a second. He wasn’t heading for his father. He marched straight for her.

Oh no…

All the amusement fled her body. She glanced left, then right before meeting his formidable gaze a second time. Of course. Distracted by his gallant swim to shore, she’d
forgotten. His dismissal of the pageantry didn’t have anything to do with defiance. He thought them still engaged.

She withdrew a step, but her shoulder blades bounced off the front of Marcelene’s ample bosom. Dammit! Pressed inside the crowd, no other escape route was available. And time was quickly running out. Her pulse leapt and her fingertips tingled as if  she’d touched Fandorn’s lightning catcher. She couldn’t seem to draw any air. Great tits above, what was the man planning to do?

 

~ * ~

 

Praise for Rowena’s Key,
Book I in The Golden Key Chronicles
 
Love Reading Romance calls Rowena’s Key “an enchanting fairy tale for adults!”Cosmochicklitan says Rowena’s Key is a “must read!”

 

 

The author slowly leads Rowena and Caedmon into love, so slowly and sweetly it’s romantic and classic…and breathtaking. I cannot wait for the second installment of this series. 5 Stars

 

 

It was like watching a Cinderella story come to life. Or living one. 5 Stars

 

 

Like the best fairy tales, Rowena’s Key captures the imagination and the heart with a bonus undercurrent of spicy romance. 5 Stars

 

 

With all the components of a star crossed lovers story, Rowena’s Key is a genuine Romance. A.J. Nuest pulls the reader into fantasy alongside Rowena with a realness that will have you hopeful, teary eyed and longing for the next installment. 5 Stars

 

You need to realize this is a novella, because you will get to the end of this story and be desperate for more. Thankfully, HarperImpulse is releasing each novella in this series in month by month installments, so we don’t have long to wait for the next development of Rowena and Caedmon’s fantasy romance. 5 Stars

 

Purchase Link: http://www.amazon.com/Candras-Freedom-HarperImpulse-Fantasy-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00FVE4RP4/

The
Golden Key Chronicles Release Schedule:

Rowena’s
Key:  November 7, 2013

Candra’s
Freedom: December 12, 2013

Caedmon’s
Curse: January 9, 2014

Braedric’s
Bane: February 13, 2014

AJ is a multi-published, award-winning author who lives in the middle of a cornfield in NW Indiana. Her loving husband, two beautiful children and a bevy of spoiled pets have agreed to stay and, in exchange for three rations per day and laundry service, tolerate her lunacy. While she spends most days happily ensconced in crafting romance across a multitude of genres, an underground coup has been percolating. The dogs just informed her the cat is secretly vying for dictatorship.
Website:  http://ajbooks.blogspot.com
Email:  ajnuest@yahoo.com
FaceBook Page: https://www.facebook.com/amyjo.nuest
Author FB Page: https://www.facebook.com/amyjo.nuest#!/pages/Tattered-Pages/259835887466
Twitter:  @AJNuest

Pull up a chair, romance junkies, because you’re going to need one. 🙂 Read on and you’ll see why, but one of my favorite authors, people really, has loaned us her newest hero for this week’s character chat. (If you haven’t read her other work, she writes rockin’ hot heroes). So, please welcome Dan “Wolf” Wolford, the hero of Santa Wore Leathers by the irrepressible Vonnie Davis!

Hiya, Wolf! Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to speak to a group of romance readers. Becca told me you balked when I first asked you to do the interview.

WOLF: (squirms in seat) Yes, I did. Your request sounded too much like a reporter wanting to interview me, and I have a real problem with reporters.

MAC: Isn’t Becca a reporter?

WOLF: Yes, she is and a damn good one too. But in the beginning of our relationship, I wasn’t very trusting of her. You see, my family lost our parents in a terrible fire set by an arson. Reporters hounded my younger sisters to the point Cassie, my baby sister, fell apart. I resigned my commission with the SEALS to come home and finish raising them. It took me a long time to get Cassie straightened out. She’s doing great now, but she really had me worried for a while. I don’t think she’d have sunk to such depths if the reporters hadn’t followed her everywhere, invaded every part of her life when she was numb with shock after losing Mom and Dad. So, reporters are not my favorite people.

MAC: I understand. Your dislike of Becca’s profession must have created some tension between you two.

WOLF: Tension? Oh, you have no idea the tension that woman caused me. Every day she’d go jogging with her dog. I’m telling you, the woman’s got these long, shapely legs that go clean to her waist. I’ve got drool marks on my front window from watching her jog past. And the first time I kissed her? Hell, I damn near forgot my name. Then there was the time she rode up on her crotch rocket in a pair of leather pants. I was hanging Christmas lights and nearly fell off the ladder when she leaned over and…

MAC: Uh, Wolf. I asked about her job.

WOLF: (Flashes a one-dimpled smile) Oh yeah. You meant a different kind of tension, didn’t you? Her job was something I had to work through and I thought I had at one point. Then something happened and my old attitude reared its ugly head.

MAC: Well, geez. Don’t stop there. What happened?

WOLF: I acted the ass and lost Becca for a while. Had to do a bit of groveling.

MAC: *humms low in her throat* I do love to see a good looking man grovel.

WOLF: *Slides to the edge of his seat, his muscled forearms between spread thighs* Hell, Mac, I even wrote a damn poem.

MAC: *coughs on a laugh* You didn’t!

WOLF: I did, and it worked too. *winks* I got the girl in the end. The girl and her thong-stealing dog.

MAC: *grins slyly* Becca faxed me a picture of you.

WOLF: Really? Let me guess. Me and Einstein, her German Shepherd?

MAC: *shakes head*

WOLF: Bet it’s the one of me in my SCUBA gear. She likes that one.

MAC: *leans head to the side* No. *ahem* I’d say you’re more out of your gear here. *extends photo to Wolf*

WOLF: Holy hell…I will paddle her sweet behind when I get home. She’s got a sick sense of humor, you know that?

MAC: Oh, Sweetie. You call that a sick sense of humor. The romance junkies and I call it pure eye candy… er, good taste.*winks*

BLURB:

There’s only one thing on Becca Sinclair’s Christmas list this holiday season – her very own column in the local paper. And if she can build a huge blog following, her wish just might come true.

Enter Dan “Wolf” Wolford aka the man-whore next door and the new star of Becca’s popular, post-divorce blog about men. A Navy SEAL turned commander of the Florida Marine Rescue Unit, Wolf’s the very definition of the word alpha – and with an endless rotation of women on his doorstep, this hunk on a Harley has Becca and her female followers all hot and bothered!

All Becca wants for Christmas is her newspaper column, right? But when she finds herself the target of Wolf’s irresistible attentions, her snarky comebacks become less and less convincing and, suddenly, she’s not so sure anymore…

 

EXCERPT:

Wolf strode to her townhouse, rang the doorbell and waited.

Finally, her door opened, and he was greeted with a scowl.

“What?” She tugged the lapels of her short white silky robe together.

“I…ah…” His gaze snagged on all those ample curves showcased by the slinky material. I…ah…”

“You said that already.” She fisted a hand on her hip.

Einstein cannonballed around Becca with something red clamped in his jaws. He streaked across the grass, his strong muscles propelling him as he circled both of their yards.

“Get back in here!” Becca pointed into her house.

Einstein loped across the grass and shrubbery, ignoring his owner’s command.

Maybe if he acted the hero and returned the pet to its owner, he’d gain a few brownie points. “Stay here. I’ll get him.” Wolf took off after the dog. Seeing he was being chased only made Einstein run faster. Wolf followed him twice around the yard in front of Becca’s house. The dog leapt over a flowerbed and stopped, his head lowered, shaking his prize, his hind end elevated, wiggling in excitement.

“Give me that.” Wolf stepped to the right around the flowerbed. The dog trotted to the left. In a quick move, he sprinted to the left and the dog dashed to the right. “Think you’re smart, don’t you?” He could have sworn the dog smiled. Wolf leapt across the blooms, hoping to grab the smartass canine. Once he’d grabbed the collar, they rolled, and Einstein yelped. Wolf grimaced as he, too, rolled across a low-growing cactus and into the trunk of a palm tree. “Dammit.”

The dog whined and dropped the fabric to lick and bite at the prickly thorns in his groin.

“Easy now, Einstein.” Wolf cooed as he slipped his Swiss army knife from the front pocket of his jeans.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on? What are you doing with that knife?” Becca tugged on the hem of her short robe and glanced up and down the street as if she thought to run out into the yard.

“Stay where you are. He’ll be fine. He’s got some thorns in his hide.” Wolf removed the tweezers stored in a slot of the knife and began extracting the offending needles. “We can’t have an awesome fella like you in pain now, can we?” He worked as quickly as he could. “One more, big guy, and then you’ll be fine.” The dog licked him several times. “Yeah, I like you too. Let’s keep what I’m about to do just between us, shall we?” He ran his fingers over the affected groin area, keeping his attentions on the dog’s reactions. “Looks like we got them all.”

“What in blue blazes are you doing to that dog? Are you performing some kind of ‘beasty-wildy’ on him?” Mrs. Minelli, his neighbor, punctured the air with her cane, her white eyebrows arched in question.

He fought the urge to laugh. “No, Mrs. Minelli. I was taking out thorns.”

She cocked her head to the side, her cataract-clouded eyes widened. “In his penis?”

BUY LINKS:

AMAZON ~ http://bit.ly/SantaLeathers

BARNES & NOBLE ~  http://bit.ly/1846Aau

 

Please visit me at my blog: http://www.vintagevonnie.blogspot.com

Or follow me on Facebook: Vonnie Davis.

I tweet under VonnieWrites, if you care to follow me in the twitterverse.