#Musical #Love For The Angst Lovers
It's been a while since I did a music post. So, why not? I'm feeling terribly random today, anyway.

Anyone with a taste for angst, Christina Perri, or a mixture of the two should enjoy this song. God knows I did, and it certainly can set a scene well, let me just say.

Enjoy.

And Happy soon to be New Year!



--Kris
#NewRelease - This Isn't Goodbye by @IyanaJenna #Giveaway

This Isn’t Goodbye is my second story to be published by Evernight Publishing.

GIVEAWAY – Please enter the Rafflecopter below.

Baby on Book Covers

There are many things I love to have on book covers but a baby picture is one of my favorites. I bought a lot of romance novels with a baby picture on them. Those are mostly Harlequin paperbacks with a man, a woman, and a baby on their covers. Yeah, they are m/f novels. I have yet to find m/m paperbacks, with or without baby pictures, on stores here in my city, let alone buy them. I would love to have them. I guess I will check out those m/m novels online.

Having my own books with two men and a baby on the covers is like a dream, and I’m so happy when I finally got it. I hope someday I will have a book with that kind of cover that is thick enough so it goes to print.

 
 

This Isn’t Goodbye



by Iyana Jenna

 
 

Romance on the Go

 


 

 

BLURB

Stay-at-home dad Taylor MacLean chose his life knowing he could rely on the trust fund from his rich grandmother. He didn’t have to work a day in his life. He preferred to take care of his baby daughter Janine and, when he was not busy changing diapers, he would get down to his art studio.

 

After finishing college, Jamie Selkirk followed his dream to be a photographer. Now working for a famous fashion magazine, Jamie spent more and more of his time away from Taylor and Janine, his husband and daughter. Can the couple learn to put each other first before their marriage begins to crumble?

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Taylor went still for a moment before he let Jamie go. Jamie's body turned rigid a moment ago, a tell-tale sign every time his boy almost said something important. It disappointed him when Jamie only said that he needed an aspirin. Really, Jamie, an aspirin? Taylor had put a full bottle on the glass table in the living room next to the couch where they both slept last night.

"Go ahead. It's on the table," Taylor said in dismissal. "You would've seen it if you hadn't been so busy wanting to throw up."

Taylor turned around abruptly. He combed his hair back. He’d acted mean and thoughtless. He caught a pained reflection in Jamie's eyes. Taylor wanted to leave the room, this very second.

"Taylor?" Incomprehension and hurt chased one after another in Jamie's voice, and Taylor couldn't take it anymore.

"I heard something. I think Janine’s woken up."

"Janine." Jamie's trembling voice stopped him in his tracks. "I haven't seen her since ... since I don’t remember when."

Yeah, Taylor knew it must’ve been too long since Jamie saw their daughter. He'd stormed out of the house right after breakfast yesterday morning.

"Don't you miss her, Jamie? Or is your job and are all those parties still too important for you? More important than your own daughter?" It crossed Taylor's mind that she was Jamie's and not his, but he figured it would be mean of him to say that. They’d both agreed to use a surrogate, and they were married. It meant whatever belonged to Jamie belonged to him, too.

"I want to see her," Jamie said, his voice so thin Taylor thought he was imagining it.

"She's okay," he said. "I checked her earlier. She slept through the night while I was down here." He stopped at once. Jamie didn't know Taylor slept with him on the couch.

But nothing escaped that pretty head.

"Down here? Were you with me?" Jamie’s face flushed and Taylor wanted to grab him right there.

"Uhh, yeah."

"Taylor."

"I just missed you."

Jamie sniffled, but he stayed still. Taylor balled his fists.

"Aw, what the hell." He lunged forward at Jamie right at the same time as Jamie moved toward him. They met halfway, grasped each other's face, and mashed their lips together.

“Wait a minute.” Jamie pulled back, gasping.

“What? Jamie?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“No, you don’t. I missed you. You’re all I want.”

“I need to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry I neglected Janine and you. I won’t do that again, ever.”

Taylor cupped Jamie’s face. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’m sorry, too.”

“What for?”

“I ignored what my husband needed.”

Jamie smiled. “So do you forgive me?”

Taylor swept him off his feet and grazed his lips lightly against Jamie’s.

“I already have.”

Taylor kissed deeper and drank in everything he could. He couldn't remember the last time he’d kissed Jamie. All the models in the world and their neighbors could want him, but Jamie belonged to him.

 

BUY LINKS 

 


 

 

About the Author:

 

Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.

 

Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has five of them. Their names are Larva, Nyil, Cil, Mermood, and Horus. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.

 

Author’s Links:

 







 
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Current #WIP - #Teaser - The Life
So, hello, lovelies. I sincerely hope your holiday was wonderful.

Mine certainly was. Between my boys having an awesome Christmas and getting to spend time with both families, mixed in with the great food and treats that I ate way too much of, it was fantastic.

I also got a heck of a lot of writing done these last couple of days, which I am most thankful for. What I should have been writing was the second in the Clans of Fire series, but sometimes it's better to write what wants to be written rather than what you should be. So, I'm currently 16,000 words into the sequel to The Arrangement.

Intitled The Life, it's about what it sounds. The life inside this mafia world I've been writing for these two characters. Moving forward beyond their marriage, and what comes after. There's still guns and blood, of course there is. :)

Also, I honestly believe there has got to be something morally wrong with writing this kind of stuff of Christmas, but I don't care. Here's a small piece of Anton...being Anton. Someone hurt his wife, and he doesn't take lightly to that.

The Life - Teaser:


“I’d say you know who I am, then,” he said, smirking.

“Let—”

“Scream, I dare you. I’ll have someone outside of your place of work at the end of your shift, or maybe I’ll wait to have them catch you tomorrow morning on your trek to the university. Hell, how do you know I don’t already have a man standing outside your father’s apartment waiting for my call? I very well could,” he finished calmly, shrugging one shoulder indifferently.

“You wouldn’t,” Vanessa spat.

Anton cocked a brow, challenging the girl. “You don’t know for sure, though, do you? The only thing you really know about me, or my wife, is what you’ve been told. Don’t let me sully your opinion of us or anything, because most of what you’ve heard about me is likely true. Viviana, however, is a completely different matter.”

More than once, Anton had been told when he leveled on someone, he did so with a predator’s graceful composure. Swathed in calm and unbothered by any and all of the activity around him, when the boss moved in, he went straight for the kill and didn’t give a second glance back. Striking with a gaze that could burn in a single look, and terrorizing with a voice that rolled and coated like sweetened molasses, he was frightening.

Anton preferred dangerous.

The girl didn’t seem to know what to say, so Anton continued with his same cool, quiet tenor. “If you had considered to think for a moment about the things you said to my wife, you would have known it was a stupid choice and you wouldn’t have done it. I’m not just affiliated with the Russian Mafia in New York, Vanessa, I fucking am it. You’d disappear, sweetheart—just like that. Poof, gone. Did you realize that when you told Viviana her hands were just as filthy as mine? Did you consider I could have blew your brains out and still made it home to wake my wife the next morning with a smile on my face when you called my unborn son a criminal’s bastard?”

“I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Anton hissed, his grip on her wrist squeezing tighter. “You had your chance to speak, and now I’m going to have mine.”

The girl swallowed nervously, her gaze flickering somewhere behind him. With a simple tug on her arm, Anton had her attention back on him.

“What, did she run home and cry to the criminal who shares her bed that some nasty girl made her cry?” Vanessa asked, sounding weaker with every word.

Anton sneered. “Oh, no. My wife has a hell of a lot more intelligence than that. In fact, she told me very little about your encounter. What I learned, I heard from your friend George. Nice guy, but trust he knows which is a safer side for him to be on, Vanessa. That was probably a better outcome for you, considering if I had heard it from my wife’s pretty mouth, I would have shoved my gun so far down your throat that when I pulled the trigger, you’d have felt the bullet rip through your esophagus before it killed you.” 
 
--Kris


Copyright © 2013 Bethany-Kris
Guest Post - Dinner For Two by Eileen Griffin #NewRelease #Recipe #Excerpt

 
 
A huge thank you to Kristen for hosting me on her blog today J

In Dinner For Two, head chef Tony Mancinni prepares a special dish of Pasta Puttanesca that he hopes to share with Sonia after they've tackled the problem of saving the dinner party she’s planned for her boss and his shareholders. Even though Sonia admits the pasta is delicious, she’s hungry for more than just pasta once she gets Tony all alone. Not wanting this fabulous recipe to go to waste, I’ve copied it here so that everyone can enjoy it for a nice romantic dinner like Tony and Sonia enjoyed… or you can skip it and go straight to dessert ;)

Pasta Puttanesca Recipe
Serves 4

Ingredients:

2 Tbsp olive oil

1/2 cup minced onion

3 cloves garlic, chopped

3-4 canned anchovies, chopped

2 Tbsp tomato paste

1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes

2 teaspoons dried oregano

2 Tbsp small (non-pariel) capers

3/4 cup pitted olives (black or green), roughly chopped

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1 pound spaghetti

Salt

Olive oil for drizzling

1. Heat the olive oil over medium-high heat in a large, deep saute pan. When the oil is hot, sauté the onions until they're soft and translucent, about 4-5 minutes. While the onions are cooking, stir in the chopped anchovies along with some of the oil from the can. Add the garlic and cook another minute.

2. Mix in the tomato paste  and cook it for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the crushed tomatoes, oregano, chili pepper flakes, and olives. Turn the heat down to a gentle simmer.

3. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. When you add the spaghetti to the boiling water to cook, add the capers to the sauce and continue to simmer it gently. Cook the pasta according to the package instructions, to al dente, cooked but still slightly firm.

4. Drain the pasta and put in a large bowl. Drizzle a little olive oil over the pasta and mix to combine. Stir the parsley into the pasta sauce. Add a ladle's worth of sauce to the pasta and mix to combine. Serve in shallow bowls with more sauce on top.

5. Serve with a really rich wine, like a Cabernet Sauvignon or a Zinfindel, that can stand up to the spicy flavors of the sauce and enjoy!
 
 
 
Dinner For Two
by: Eileen Griffin
Genre: Erotic Romance
Length: Romance On The Go – Short Story
Published: December 17, 2013
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
 
BLURB:

Sonia Davenport has dreams of coordinating and planning special events. When she’s given the opportunity to plan a dinner for her boss and his shareholders, she jumps at the chance to make everything perfect. Helping her plan the special night is the head chef of the restaurant, Tony Mancinni, who is not only charming but goes out of his way to make Sonia feel special during the entire planning process.

The dinner party almost turns disastrous when an employee mixes up the orders and sets out the wrong food. In a mad rush to save the dinner, Sonia and Tony realize their attraction to each other when things heat up in the kitchen. However, Tony has to convince Sonia that he wants more than just an extra set of hands in his restaurant – he wants her to stay the night so he can convince her to stay for good.
 
EXCERPT:
Tony gently rubbed his finger along her bottom lip. "I had hoped everything would be perfect tonight because I wanted to impress you. When you came in for brunch that first Sunday and laid out your plans, not only were you beautiful, but you had a detailed description of what you wanted. On the catering side of things, you have no idea how attractive that is. Then, when you came in for your tasting, I didn't think I was going to make it through the afternoon without asking you out. But I have a strict rule: Don't date the clients until after the function is over. So I waited. Do you have any idea how hard it was to wait?"
Sonia shook her head slightly, then let her lips part. Instead of replying to him, she slid her tongue out to meet his finger, gently caressing the tip. He hissed in a breath, his eyes fixated on her tongue and lips. Feeling emboldened by his words, she leaned closer and drew his finger deeper inside her mouth, wrapping her lips around it as she laved it with her tongue.
"Sonia," he whispered. "You're so beautiful. But I didn't ask you up here for this."
She leaned back, his finger sliding out of her mouth. All the nerves and doubts she'd felt earlier were replaced by a heat that was coursing through her. She'd felt it all night in the kitchen with him and it was stronger now that she knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
"I'm glad you asked me up here, Tony. But if we're being honest with each other, I think dinner can wait. You see, I've lost my appetite. For food, that is."
BUY LINKS:
 
 
EILEEN GRIFFIN BIO:
Eileen Griffin lives in the Southwest but loves to travel and has spent many summers crossing Europe with nothing but a backpack on her back. She enjoys TexMex, lives for good wine, and has a certain penchant for purple unicorns. She loves reading all genres of books, but her current obsession is writing M/M with lots of boykissing.





 
With every round of edits...
I think I lose a little part of my soul and my black heart breaks.

No, I'm just kidding. Kind of.

Given I've had about five rounds of professional editing in the last two months slide into my inbox, and that's not counting the self editing I've done for a recently finished novel, I think I can talk openly about this for a moment.

Some authors get really excited when they get their edits back from their editor. They love working through them, finding the comments and suggestions to make everything pretty and better. I'm not saying I don't, I'm just saying I'd rather spoon my eyeballs out with rusty sporks.

What I do love about it all, however, is the critique.

"Explain this..."

"You've left this unfinished..."

"Who is speaking here?"

"Um...what?!"

Some of my grammatical issues are a regional thing (I literally am a backwater hick at times). Some of them are just plain stupidity. Other things sound right in my head and look proper when I read them but someone objective sees something wholly different.

I don't pretend to be perfect. And I enjoy seeing my issues and problems plainly spelt out for me.

Still, my soul chunks off and my heart breaks.

Sometimes it's because I watch a lot of words get cut. I talk a lot. A lot, a lot. So, when 3-4k of my manuscript is cut because it's info dumping or useless dialogue, it's harsh. To me, it was important. To the story, maybe not so much. That sucks, but what goes, goes, and the story is usually better for it.

Silver linings. Find one. Hold tight to it. Or you'll never want to edit, or have someone else edit, something ever again.

I don't really have advice, just wanted to spew some thoughts. I will say, though, that with every round of edits that slide into my inbox, I try to take something from. Like corrections, almost. Because that's exactly what they are. The next time I sit down to write, I'm reminded of just what was fixed the last time, what was cut, and why it needed to happen. I like to think--like, because sometimes I forget--that applying these corrections is working.

Other times I see all the red and think, "Yep, that's my blood bleeding out right there and not in a good way."

Dramatic, I know.

Meh. Don't fault me. I have some issues.

Hope you're holidays will be wonderful!

--Kris
Release Day Blitz: Best Fake Day by Tracey Rogers #NewRelease
Release
Day Blitz
***
Best Fake
Day
by
Tracey Rogers
Contemporary
Romance
***
Available from Beachwalk Press
Blurb

Faking it never felt so good.

Wedding photographer and romance lover Izzy Latham dreams of finding her own happily-ever-after. When her former teenage crush arrives at her doorstep, looking sexier than ever, and asks to marry her, it should be her dream come true, right? Wrong. It turns out he doesn't want to actually marry
her—he only wants to pretend to marry her.


Marriage hater Jack Carter will do anything to close his latest business deal, including finding a wife. The only person who can help him is his childhood friend, Izzy. Except Izzy isn't a little girl anymore. She's definitely all woman, and there's an attraction between them that's hard to ignore.

Jack has to convince Izzy to fake it, but the problem is that she hates to lie. However, she can't deny her feelings for him either. So when Jack makes her an offer she can't refuse, she reluctantly agrees to help him out.

Faking it is the easy part. But what happens when fake starts to feel so real?

Content Warning: contains sensual sex and occasional strong language



Excerpt

"Let me work off the money," Izzy said.

She felt Jack's gaze rake over her body, watched the clench of his jaw. "And how are you planning to work it off, Isabel?" he almost growled. "Is that what all of this is about?" he asked as his hand made an indicating sweep over her body. "Dress to impress so you can pay me in kind?"

"Oh God, no," she spluttered. "This is me showing you I'm not the weak, naïve girl I used to be and I won't be pushed around!"

The hard glint in his eyes softened slightly. "You were never weak. Naïve…" He trailed off. "So how exactly were you planning to pay me back?"

"Working here for you for free until I pay you back. I could collect glasses, work the bar, or clean."

"And you have experience in any of those roles?"

"No. But I could learn."

"But what about the house repairs?"

She shrugged. "I could do that during the daytime and work here at night. Then when I'm earning again from my day job I'll pay you back."

"And what exactly is your day job?"

"I'm a photographer. I could even do that here. Take photographs of the patrons and sell them for you."

"You work freelance?”

"I have my own business." She hesitated before elaborating. "As a wedding photographer," she said quickly, hoping he wouldn't snag the teasing opportunity.

Too late. The corner of his mouth quirked until it bloomed until a grin. "A wedding photographer. How appropriate. I knew playing dress-up with your mother's veil and having teddy bears as your guests would have an influence on you one day."

"You mean like wanting to have a traditional wedding where the groom doesn't have to bribe the bride? Yeah, my childhood messed me up real bad," she said with sarcasm.

"You're not working here, Izzy. And this conversation is over."

"No, it's not. I'm giving you a solution to paying off what I owe. I'll work off the amount Ellie paid for our debts and the rest you get from her. So when do I start?"

"You are not working here."

"Why?"

"Do you really want to have some guy groping you as you serve drinks? Or a group of guys? I run a tight ship and look out for my staff, but sometimes it happens."

"I can look after myself. I have been groped before, you know. I can deal with it."

He slid his chair closer, bending his legs so hers surrounded him without touching, but close, very close. He looked up at her under dark lashes. "So if some guy puts a hand on your leg you wouldn’t
mind?"


She shook her head.

"And if that hand strayed beneath your dress?" he asked as his hand reached out to graze the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, making her shudder.

She shook her head slowly, earning a dark look. Of course she would mind. But this was Jack.

He stood abruptly, stepping into the v of her thighs. "And if a guy tried to kiss you?"

"I have been kissed before, remember?" she said, inwardly cringing at how breathless she sounded.

"I remember being a boy kissing you as a girl. If I were to kiss you now I wouldn’t be holding back and I wouldn’t be kissing you as a boy—I’d be kissing you as a man."

"Then do it," she demanded.

Buy Links:

AmazonUK  | Amazon.com | Nook | Beachwalk Press

Author bio

A devourer of books from an early age, I spent much of my childhood stepping into wardrobes, searching for that magical snowy world where conversing with animals would be expected. When I wasn't searching for those worlds, I wrote about them instead. My first step into the world of romance was when I stole sneak peeks into my nana's books. I'm still in that world and refuse to leave.

I live in Staffordshire, UK, with my husband and three wonderful children. An avid reader and writer of romance, I strongly believe that words make the world go around.

You can find me
here: http://traceyrogers.wordpress.com/



When a Bratva boy & Cosa Nostra girl meet... #Teaser
Well, there will be sparks, of course...

But, there's also guns and blood.

There's always blood in the mob.

Occasionally, I have tweeted out tiny snippets for my manuscript The Arrangement. For the most part, I have kept it mostly to myself, and my girl, Elle. In fact, she read this story through Gchat, piece by tiny piece as I wrote it. Yep, that means she read nearly 100k of works through a tiny little window. Haha, give her some props. We both hold it a little dear, and our love for Anton, the hero, is immeasurable. Ain't that right, Elle? ;)

Writing a hero that is an honest to earth bad guy...because let's face it, he didn't become a Russian mob boss by kissing puppies here...can sometimes be a double edged sword. People want to see that this bad side of a person can be repented. That he feels badly for his life and choices. That, perhaps at some point, he/she may make appropriate changes in their lifestyle to become a better person.

My hero isn't like that.

He's unapologetic. At times, he is an asshole. He is magnetic and charismatic and carries a gun in his waistband every moment of the day. He is also incredibly endearing, keeps his word, and would give his girl the world on the platter of her choice. Because of this, he is dangerous. He wears the masks he needs to and he is proud of the black roses on his chest and stars on his shoulders that he earned. Shooting a gun and taking a life in his world is second nature and protecting what he loves the very most is the easiest thing he'll ever do next to breathing.

Would I want to meet a man like him in real life? Sure...but I'd be very careful about turning my back on him.

Anton doesn't play games.

I so loved writing him.

Here's a taste of him in his boss element:


At least five men were inside the room, each clothed differently and while four stood, the one who had hit Viviana at the dorm—Viktor—was lying prone on the floor. With his head bent at an awkward angle, the barrel of a gun pressing to his right temple, the man only gritted his teeth and continued to say the same phrase over and over in Russian.

“Boss, let it go,” one man said quietly. “He’s apologized, he’s never skimmed off his boys or done you wrong in the past. Your grandfather would have done the same.”

It wasn’t his face Vine’s eyes were drawn to, or even the voice that spoke in a language she could finally understand, but instead the hand holding the gun down with a force she knew must have hurt. That hand didn’t shake, there was no hesitance in the action. She had the distinct feeling if those fingers that had once touched her skin so softly in the past pulled the trigger back, they wouldn’t for one second find regret in that choice.

Eta ruka?”

Anton’s once cheery voice that resided in the back of Vine’s memories sounded darker than she had ever heard it. Hardened and cold, like sharp shards of ice to her soul. Wearing only dark wash jeans that sat low around his hips, the waistband of boxer-briefs were visible. The black hair, now kept a little longer than she had last seen him with, was wet and hanging over blue eyes. She could help but wonder if those eyes blazed a dark blue in his rage like they did when he fucked and loved.

Every muscle tensed and shuddered as anger rolled over his broad shoulders, the six-pack of abs clenching like the white teeth he bared when he growled out once more, “Eta ruka?”

Viktor nodded, raising the hand his boss had tapped with a boot. Full lips sneered, the chiseled line of Anton’s jaw growing impossibly harder as he breathed heavily through his nose. Something unknown washed through Viviana’s insides, sending her desire ramped right up to a fever pitch while fear prickled elsewhere.

“Do you think it is appropriate I let this go, Viktor?” he asked, his tone holding a clear warning. The slight Russian accent in his dialect wasn’t nearly as thick as some of the men around him, but the more irritated his voice became, the more prominent it sounded. “Do you agree with your brothers that your actions should simply be overlooked because of your lack of past transgressions? Would that be to your liking?”

“I—”

“It is a yes or no question!” The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the older man’s temple. Vine’s heart stuttered. “I don’t wish to hear your excuses, or apologies. I want a fucking answer!”

Viviana’s fingers tightened around the doorknob as Viktor’s voice turned quieter and he said, “Yes, I was wrong.”

Anton’s hand gripped the gun, and he tapped the piece three short times to the man’s head before it was moved. “This hand,” he stated, a foot kicking out to tap against clenched fingers once more. “You hit her with this one, so open it up against the floor. Now.”

“Boss!”

“Would you like to be next, Boris? I should take a pound from you, too, considering you didn’t step in until after he’d smacked her around a little. I was very clear on my instructions as to her and her person. Neither of you idiots managed to follow them properly.”

Anton stood straight, turning to face Boris, and giving Vine a view of the wide plains of his back and shoulders. Stretched with bands of muscles, his shoulders were strong, wide, and still shuddering with barely contained fury. Black ink crisscrossed his skin in a tribal design that flexed with his movements, while a black star resided on both of his shoulders between the inky licks of color.

“The orders were clear, and you allowed him to break my protocol. At the very least you could have used that sedative before you took her from the dorm, and he did not have to end that bull inside the complex. Those are issues I have to fix, now. Too sloppy for a Brigadier of your age and knowledge. Both of you are losing the thirty percent share from your boys tributes this month, and maybe next, too. I haven’t decided, yet.”

“Yes, Boss,” Boris replied quietly. 

Anton turned back on Viktor, the gun in his grip aimed and ready. Vine choked knowing what he was about to do, but still unable to turn away from the sight. “Hand out,” he ordered again. With a shaky exhale, Viktor unclenched his fingers and laid his palm flat to the floor. Closing his eyes, he apologized once more in his mother tongue as Anton kneeled down to thrust the gun against the back of the man’s hand. “You will apologize to her when you are able. You are not to speak to her directly, or indirectly, without my immediate presence and permission. I do not want to see your face before I request it, and I suggest you stay away from my clubs and homes until this has blown over. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Anton barked.

“Yes, Boss.”
The Arrangement WIP Blurb:
 
Nothing will stop the Bratva mob boss from taking back what’s his and once he has her, he’ll do anything to keep her…
Viviana “Vine” Carducci’s and Anton Avdonin’s marriage was decided over two decades ago. The deal between leading mafia families had more on the line than anyone knew, even if the Bratva and Cosa Nostra shouldn’t have mixed. When Vine’s family is murdered and she’s left with nothing more than her grief to survive the mob world alone, she believes the arrangement won’t see the light of day.
Anton can’t allow the one woman he was supposed to love get away. At the possibility of her life coming to a quick end, he steps in with guns blazing knowing exactly what it might cost him: everything. But it’s been nearly a decade since their last meeting, and he can’t help but wonder if the woman he took back is the same girl he fell for all those years before.
Under his protection and love, Vine is unable to forget their shared moments a lifetime ago, or the future she knows they’re owed. When an old flame of Anton’s shows up to rip the veil off the carefully constructed secrets he’d been hiding, past lies surface, and Vine might just learn that nothing about her life was as it seemed. But, that’s nothing compared to the bomb about to blow. Can she see beyond the pain and blood it to take what she always wanted? And just how far will the mob prince go to keep her safe?
In a world where violence, deceit, and greed reign, your life is not your own, and sometimes, love has to be arranged.
--Kris
A Love Unfinished - #ComingSoon - #Teaser - #Excerpt
Hello!
So, just a couple of days ago...yesterday...I finished my second round of edits for A Love Unfinished. With that being done, I had to pick out a teaser, write my dedication, and send it back to Evernight Publishing. I thought I'd share the teaser I picked.
Despite A Love Unfinished being a paranormal romance, there is a lot of backlogged emotion to get through--ie, angst--before the love resurfaces. Oh, I do so love angst.
And these two, Holden and Dani, make it so damned easy for me to write. When they click, they click. And when they explode...well, read on.
~*~*~
 
“Get away from me,” I hissed. “You have no right to be here.”


Emotion broke through on his handsome features, marring it with sadness as my eyes blurred with unshed tears. “Please, Dani…”


“Stop saying my name.” My voice was rising to an unhealthy octave. My heart was pounding at a too fast pace. Why would he be here? He had to have known I wouldn’t want him here. “Stop sharing my fucking air. For God sakes, get out of my space, Holden.”


“Ouch, man.”


Holden didn’t even glance back at his friend. “Shut up, Duran.” There was a timber in his tone, something else I didn’t recognize from the man standing before me. I felt wetness drip down my cheeks. “Oh, Dani, please don’t cry…I didn’t come here to make you cry, baby.”


Baby? “Who in the hel—”


“Dani!” Jade was out of the kitchen and rushing over to my side. She barely noted the men or my heartbroken expression. That, or she mistook it for the pain of the coffee spill. “Did you get burned?”


“I’m fine.” Those words were the biggest lie I’d ever spoken.


“She’s not,” Holden replied quietly. “Could you get a cool cloth and the first aid kit, if you have one?”


“I’m fine,” I repeated. “Jade, could you handle these guys, please?”


“Dani, wait.”


“Holden, I swear to God if you don’t walk out of this place right now and never look back, I will…” I couldn’t finish my sentence because there wasn’t anything I didn’t already feel for him. Hate. Love. Desire. Disgust. I felt all of that. With him being so close, it only served to make me more confused. Defeated, air rushed from my lungs, in a harsh exhale. “Leave, right now.”


Jade appeared lost. “Um…okay, I’m going to grab the first aid. You’re going to stay here and sit down.”


Duran smiled at Jade when no one responded. “Thanks, sweetheart.”  


Holden hadn’t taken his eyes off me. When he moved forward, I backed up. “Don’t come any closer. I don’t want you near me.”


Agony pulled Holden’s full lips into a frown. “Let me explain.”


“I told you this wouldn’t be the best place to approach her,” Duran said. “We should have waited.”


“We don’t have that kind of time.”


“Why haven’t you left?” I asked, feeling a seething rage beginning to take over my initial shock and pain. “Have I not made it clear enough yet that you’re not welcomed?”


“You made it clear.” Holden’s gaze flickered up to the ceiling, a tick showing in his strong jaw. “But it’s not that simple. One minute, Dani. That’s all I’m asking for. After all we were, don’t you owe me that?”


“Owe you?” My hands trembled. The sudden burst of fury and courage that swept over me was all consuming. I stepped up to him and slammed my fist into his chest. Holden barely flinched and the action hurt me a great deal more than it must have him, but emotional pain registered in his eyes. “I owe you. Are you fucking insane? You left me, Holden. Left me in Tennessee with nothing. Not a goddamned explanation, not a goodbye…nothing!”


I hit him in the chest again, disbelief coursing through me. “How could you ever say that I owe you after everything you did to me? I waited for months. I called your phone every day. I texted, emailed, and left messages until your inbox was full. You could have been dead if not for that stupid note. I defended you when it was clear you didn’t want me anymore … Once, Holden. All you had to do was answer me back just once! You up and walked away from me, from our home, and our life without a single care in the world. And you have the audacity to say that I owe you anything?”


“Do not…” he growled, face suddenly mere inches from mine, “…say that I just walked away from you, Dani. I never would have walked away from you like that had I been given the choice. Ever.”


His response only served to fuel my rage. “Well, excuse me for living. What would you call me waking up to an empty house, with a note on the counter, and no you to be seen again, exactly?”


Anger clouded his face. “What did that note say, Dani?”


“Holden, calm down.” Duran was up off the bench, a hand on his friend’s shuddering arm. Rippling tension flowed between the men, but my former lover and fiancé didn’t register the one person attempting to help the situation. No, his focus was solely on me. “Come on, we’ll do this another time.”


“You won’t do it ever again,” I spat hatefully.


“Yes, I will. I have to. I can’t be me without you.” That confession struck me like a knife in the chest, the blade twisting painfully. Holden breathed deeply, the fight suddenly gone from his body as quickly as it came. “I will always come back for you. I lo—”


“No, you don’t. You never did. If you had, this…” I said with a wave at us, “…wouldn’t have happened.”
 
--Kris
 
Bethany-Kris © 2013