Nestore Romano was achingly beautiful. A cruel, dark prince who only smiled when he could break his broken princess. His birthright destined him to rule over his kingdom. His indisputable fate until my father betrayed his oath and locked him in a cage to torture and humiliate. It was the end of Nestore. It was his rebirth too. I witnessed both.
He hated my last name for everything my father had done to him and his family. But me…
…he hated me for the single act of running away.
Amelia was the light in my eternal darkness.
Until she wasn’t.
Until she betrayed me like every other Lamorgese. I wouldn’t let her escape. I couldn’t, not when she was the only anchor to something I’d lost. My last salvation.
She would become my wife—the unwilling princess at my side.
I never wanted to make her pay for the scars her father had left.
But I would make her pay for breaking my heart.
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Cora Reilly is the author of the Born in Blood Mafia Series, The Camorra Chronicles and many other books, most of them featuring dangerously sexy bad boys. Before she found her passion in romance books, she was a traditionally published author of young adult literature.
Cora lives in Germany with a cute but crazy Bearded Collie, as well as the cute but crazy man at her side. When she doesn't spend her days dreaming up sexy books, she plans her next travel adventure or cooks too spicy dishes from all over the world.
Title: Beyond the Masks Series: Beyond Surrender #1
Author: Nicky F. Grant
Genre: Contemporary Romance Narrator: Noah Michael Levine Audio Release Date: April 1, 2020
Blurb
Can betrayal and obsession lead to love?
Shane Vaughn has it all. Well, almost. Fame, success, and money can
only get her so far. After surviving a devastating heartbreak at the hands of
the all-consuming Jacob Andrews, she's demanding no-strings, uncomplicated
liaisons from now on.
Where could she find a simple distraction from Jacob? The exclusive
pleasure club, The Resort.
The masked Dom with the blue-eyed gaze could work. He was hypnotizing
and mysterious, rendering her powerless. A seductively simple decision.
Unless the masked Dom is Gavin Mayne. A pompous, arrogant, and
commanding man. A talent director determined to take Shane's job. But how can
he control an Alpha woman? Force her submission and have her kneeling at his
feet.
That is until Jacob Andrews demands a second chance. He couldn’t let
Shane go, especially into the arms of another man. She was the love of his life
but will she forgive him for what he’s done?
A dangerous combination of betrayal and
obsession will surface. But when secrets are revealed, who will be the last man
standing?
Erotic
romance is my game. Alpha males and strong heroines tickle my fancy and spark
the words on the page. There's something enthralling about the emotional bond
of kink that fuels my characters' crazy decisions toward love.
I'm a
Pittsburgh author who loves naps, cuddles with my doggo, and hanging with my
husband. And reading? I love steamy AF books that tug on every emotion.
It was only supposed to be a single encounter. A night of sexual exhibition. We were never supposed to become romantically involved. But they were alluring and irresistible.
They were also the enemy.
Their company wants to take the one thing that means anything to me.
Now, I'm navigating a dicey path. Loving two men who can destroy me in a multitude of ways. They can shatter my heart, wreck my dreams, but worst of all, demolish the only place I've ever called home.
M. Never resides in New York City. When she's not researching ways to tie up her characters in compromising positions, you can usually find her at the gym kicking the crap out of a punching bag, or eating at some new trendy restaurant.
She has a dependence on sushi and a fetish for boots. Fall is her favorite season.
She is surrounded by family and friends she wouldn't trade for the world and is a little in love with her readers. The more the merrier. So make sure to say hi!
“Lily Anderson, you get your ugly ass out here right this minute. Don’t make me come after you,” Daddy screams.
He’s so angry. I knew the moment I heard him come home from work I was in for it. I was in my bedroom, lying on the floor trying to do my math. He slammed the front door so hard the windows in my room shook.
And then I knew, I knew I was in for it.
“Lily Anderson!” he yells again.
As soon as I heard him yell I ran to my hiding spot. I’m inside the closet in the hallway, wedged as far into the corner as I can get. Mom’s old coat hangs in front of me and I can still smell a faint waft of the perfume she used to wear.
“Lily Anderson!” he shouts. I can hear the anger in his voice and I can already feel the pain he’s going to inflict on me when he opens the closet door. I know what’s coming.
I close my eyes tight, scrunching them up so no light can seep through. I put my hands over my ears so I can’t hear him.
“I swear to God; if I have to find you, you will not sit for a month.”
My knees are folded into my chest. I’m trying to make myself small, invisible, so he forgets I’m here. I’m rocking myself, trying to block out what he’s saying.
School is safe. School is safe. School is safe. I keep repeating the mantra because in a few short hours I’ll be back at school. Maybe tomorrow I can go to the library after school, stay there until it closes and then sneak in after Dad’s passed out, because he’s had too much to drink.
It was never like this before. Ever.
I’m twelve years old and I can remember when Mom, Dad, and I were all happy. But that was years ago. It’s been a long time since there’s been any happiness in this house.
Well, before Mom died anyway, and not a day since.
Mom died when I was nine. I don’t remember much about her, except I remember her telling me how ugly I am. How life would be better if I was taken away from them. How I’ll never be anything, because I’m stupid and ugly.
Sometimes I dream happy things. Like me, Mom, Dad and a little blond-haired boy all going for a picnic. The sun beamed down on us as we played outside and laughed. We’d eat yummy sandwiches Mom made for us, and we’d drink homemade lemonade. We’d spend hours outside, laughing and talking and just having fun. Mom would tell me how pretty I am, and how much she loved me. She would play with my hair, braid it, and then we’d go and pick bright flowers to take home and put in a vase. Dad would smile and call us “his girls”, always kissing Mom and hugging me. Dad would put the little boy on his shoulders and run around the park, trying to catch the clouds.
I love those dreams, and I hold onto them; wishing they were real. But I’ve never had a mom like that, and my dad doesn’t talk much unless it’s with his fists, or to tell me how ugly and useless I am.
I feel him walking around the house. The floorboards creak and the vibrations from his footsteps come through the floor to where my bottom is. I close my eyes tighter and try and breathe as quietly as I can.
Please go away, Daddy. Please go away.
My heart is beating so fast. My hands are shaking and I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s going to happen the minute he opens the closet door.
Shhh, it’s so quiet. The only sound is my heart thrumming in my ears. Nothing else. Not a whisper, not a rattle…nothing.
Maybe Daddy’s left. Maybe he’s gone to the pub to have a few drinks. Maybe, just maybe, he’s left...forever.
I take a deep breath and just relax for a moment. My shoulders drop and I finally stop rocking.
Slowly I take my hands down from my ears, and I’m so happy because I can’t hear him yelling at me. I can’t hear him at all.
Gradually, I begin to unscrunch my eyes from the way I’ve tightly closed them. But something’s not right. There’s light coming into the closet.
I don’t even get a chance to open them fully before a rough hand reaches in, latches onto my ponytail and yanks.
“I told you it’d be worse for you if I had to find you,” Dad says, as he drags me out of the closet by my hair.
I’m desperately trying to hold onto my head so he doesn’t rip my hair out. My feet are trying to find traction on the dirty floorboards.
“Please, Daddy. Please. You’re hurting me,” I begin sobbing as I plead with him.
“Then your ugly ass should’ve come when I called you, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking worthless, you ugly idiot,” he says. But now his voice is calm as he continues to drag me toward the family room.
That’s when he’s most scary. When his voice is low and his eyes are filled with hate.
He throws me against the side of the sofa and takes a step back to look at me.
I look up and can see he’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him. “You dumb, ugly piece of shit,” he says, as he paces back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry, Daddy. Whatever I did, I’m so sorry.” I cower into myself, trying to make myself as small as possible.
“You’re just too fucking stupid, aren’t you?” he spits toward me as he brings his hand up to scratch at his chin.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Tears are falling hot and fast down my cheeks. My head hurts from where he was pulling my hair, but I don’t dare try to rub the spot.
“You ugly fuck.” He kicks a boot into my leg.
The pain is instant and my leg feels like it’s shattered. “Please, Daddy,” I beg again, burying my face into my hands.
But ‘please’ never seems to work.
Nothing does.
I’ve just got to take the beatings, because that’s what stupid, ugly girls do.
Author Bio
NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER OF UGLY AND MISTRUST
**Write something worth reading**
I'm Margaret and I'm a self-published author. Recently I was fortunate in obtaining New York Times best
selling status on my YA/NA book - Ugly, and my YA book - Mistrust.
My last five books have been YA and I'm completely in love with the genre. I
love being able to communicate with people through my words and stories.
My writing genres all differ, but the one thing I keep consistent is my
heroines. All my female lead characters are strong, gutsy and not the 'perfect'
woman. While my books all have romantic elements in them, they aren't just
about the romance. They're about finding strength, acceptance and making life
long connections.
I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I have while writing them.
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