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Princess Lena is in for the fight of her life. Her older sister Sophia has gone on a murderous power grab and its cost the entire tribe dearly. The Northlands Fae have been banished from Earth to a realm where dragons roam free and magic isn’t practiced. In this new land, Lena meets the dashing Prince Troy and his clan of dragon-shifters. Lena thinks she may have found a home for her orphaned tribe. Her sister has other plans and plots to bring them back to Earth and continue her power play. With the help of her new friends, Lena must stop her sister and keep her old home safe.


Retail "Harrison sat very still. On the screen was the surface of the moon." Jim Harrison is a test pilot in the United States Air Force, one of the exalted few. He spends his days cheating death in the skies above the Mojave Desert and his nights at his friend Pancho's bar, often with his wife, Grace. She and Harrison are secretly desperate for a child-and when, against all odds, Grace learns that she is pregnant, the two are overcome with joy. While America becomes swept up in the fervor of the Space Race, Harrison turns his attention home, passing up the chance to become an astronaut to welcome his daughter, Florence, into the world. Together, he and Grace confront the thrills and challenges of raising a child head-on. Fatherhood is different than flying planes-less controlled, more anxious-however the pleasures of watching Florence grow are incomparable. But when his family is faced with a sudden and inexplicable tragedy, Harrison's instincts as a father and a pilot are put to test. As a pilot, he feels compelled to lead them through it-and as a father, he fears that he has fallen short. The aftermath will haunt the Harrisons and strain their marriage as Jim struggles under the weight of his decisions. Beginning when the dust of the Second World War has only just begun to settle and rushing onward into the Sixties, Benjamin Johncock traces the path of this young couple as they are uprooted by events much larger than themselves. The turns the Harrisons take together are at once astonishing and recognizable; their journey, both frightening and full of hope. Set against the backdrop of one of the most emotionally charged periods in American history, The Last Pilot is a mesmerizing debut novel of loss and finding courage in the face of it from an extraordinary new talent. **


He might growl, but she’s not afraid to bite. Hands full taking care of his clan, the last thing this Kodiak bear needs is a woman poking her cute little nose into his affairs. But when she refuses to back down—and shows the courage to stand up to him—he can’t resist the allure of a curvy city girl. She’s mine. All mine. And when a rival clan thinks to use her to force his paw, he’ll show them why you never piss off a Kodiak, or threaten what’s his. Tammy is convinced men are all scum, even gorgeous ones like Reid Carver. She knows he’s hiding something. Something big. She just never expected a real freaking bear hid underneath all those muscles. But when the truth comes out and he tries to scare her off with a roar, she shows him not just bears have bite.


From #1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover, a new novel about risking everything for love—and finding your heart somewhere between the truth and lies. At age twenty-one, Auburn Reed has already lost everything important to her. In her fight to rebuild her shattered life, she has her goals in sight and there is no room for mistakes. But when she walks into a Dallas art studio in search of a job, she doesn’t expect to find a deep attraction to the enigmatic artist who works there, Owen Gentry. For once, Auburn takes a chance and puts her heart in control, only to discover that Owen is keeping a major secret from coming out. The magnitude of his past threatens to destroy everything important to Auburn, and the only way to get her life back on track is to cut Owen out of it. To save their relationship, all Owen needs to do is confess. But in this case, the confession could be much more destructive than the actual sin. **


Avery's life is slipping between her fingers. Everything that she worked to achieve will be gone if she doesn't take this job. The idea of being a call girl doesn't appeal to Avery, but her first client does. Sean is too difficult to resist. This might be the opportunity to fix her finances and find love. She just has to have enough guts to go through with it.


The third book in the Heart of Stone series concludes the sensual and emotional story of Tristan and Nina that began in Crash Into Me and continued in Fall Into Me... Tristan Stone has lived a life other men would kill for. Literally. But all the money, women, and fast cars mean nothing to him since Nina came into his life. Danger lurks around every turn with enemies wearing friendly faces. Whatever it takes, he'll protect the woman he loves because without her, life isn't worth living. Nina Edwards had no idea of the world Tristan would give her. All her dreams have come true, but with the good comes the bad, and this world of his has more than enough of that. For love, though, she'll face not only Tristan's demons but anyone who stands in her way of finally finding happiness with the man she loves.


Stefan is a foreign exchange student who has hit the jackpot. His host family includes eighteen year old Tasha, pretty blonde cheerleader and the hottest girl in school. After Stefan discovers just how heavy a sleeper Tasha is he can't help but take advantage of the sleeping teen. WARNING: This 4800 word short story contains explicit sex and is intended for ADULTS ONLY.


Little did Tiffany know that her virginity was part of the pre-nuptual agreement and Mason likes to fuck hard and without birth control. When Mason forces the issue, how far will Tiffany go to save her Mother's marriage and their new life?


Join Shameless Book Deals for Free Stories and Fun Giveaways These brats can pout all they want, they are going to do anything for the man of the house, even if what he demands is to take them hard and most certainly without using protection or pulling out. These stories are totally taboo and will leave you panting!


Beautiful Marianne Winslow has had her share of suitors—and her share of scandal. Three engagements, no wedding… And the ton is beginning to talk. Smoldering Rafe Knight has lived the past fifteen years of his life with one goal—avenging the death of his parents. His final target? The Earl of Misbourne. The perfect bartering tool? The Earl's daughter, Marianne…. Held at gunpoint on Hounslow Heath, Marianne is taken captive by a mysterious masked highwayman. Her father must pay the price—but Marianne finds more than vengeance in the highwayman's warm amber eyes…. About the Author Margaret McPhee trained as a scientist, but was always a romantic at heart. She wrote two manuscripts and suffered numerous rejections from publishers and agents before joining the Romantic Novelists Association. A further two manuscripts later and with help from RNAs new writers' scheme, her first regency romance was born. Margaret enjoys cycling, tea and cakes and loves exploring the beautiful scenery and wildlife of the islands of Scotland with her husband. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Hounslow Heath, London—1810 It was the perfect day for a wedding. The October morning was crisp and filled with sunshine. The sky was a cloudless blue. Hounslow Heath was a rich green, and the surrounding oaks and beeches that peppered the heath had turned the prettiest shades of red and gold. But as the solitary dark liveried coach sped across the heath Lady Marianne Winslow noticed nothing of the beauty. 'We had better pray that Pickering is still waiting in the church. I would not be surprised if he has suffered a change of heart and gone home. And who could blame him? He has his pride, after all. What on earth were you doing in your bedchamber for so long?' George Winslow, the Earl of Misbourne, pulled his watch from his pocket and flicked open the gold casing. Marianne wondered what her father would say if she told him the truth—that she had been staring into the peering glass for the last two hours, wondering how she might bring herself to marry a man she had met only twice, was almost as old as her father and scrutinised her as if she were a prize filly. But her father did not wait for an answer. 'Forty-five minutes late and we have yet to reach Staines.' He snapped the watch case shut and returned it to his waistcoat pocket. 'Good lord, girl! We cannot risk losing Pickering after the fiasco with Arlesford.' 'Papa…marrying Mr Pickering…I am not at all sure that I can…' 'Marianne, as your mother has already told you, what you are feeling is nothing more than wedding-morning nerves, which are perfectly normal in any young lady. We have been through all of this before.' 'Yes, but…' 'But?' 'I thought when Mr Pickering and I were first betrothed that I would grow used both to him and to the idea of marriage. But I need more time. It is barely a month since he gave me his ring.' She glanced down at the heavy signet ring upon her finger. 'A month is more than adequate for a betrothal, Marianne.' 'But, Papa, I barely know him.' 'You will come to know him soon enough and Pickering is not a demanding man. He will be kind to you.' The gold of Pickering's ring glinted in the sunlight. 'I can understand that he may not be the most appealing of bridegrooms,' said her father, 'but he is steady and solid and reliable. Not only is Pickering's fortune vast and he highly esteemed within the ton, but he is a man of influence and power. No one can question the sense of the match.' He paused. 'The wedding must go ahead. You will say no more of it and do as you are told, my girl.' She stared down at the wedding posy clutched in the clamminess of her hand, at the pale pink roses delivered fresh from a hothouse in the country that morning and the tiny white babies'-breath flowers. She knew all of her father's arguments and knew, too, that they were right. Yet it did not make the prospect of marrying Charles Pickering any more palatable. The coach took a bend in the road too fast and Marianne reached up for the securing strap to stop herself from sliding across the seat, her posy tumbling to the floor in the process. 'Papa, please, can we not at least travel a little more slowly?' 'The time is too short, Marianne. If Pickering walks away from this, there will be the devil to pay.' He glanced away, a strange expression in his eyes. His mouth tightened as she watched and then he seemed to remember himself and continued. 'John Coachman is under instruction to make up the time. Besides, Houns-low Heath is hardly a place to be dallying, even in daylight.' Her father retrieved her posy from where it rolled in the dust and returned it to her. Marianne gave a little shiver. 'You cannot think that the highwayman—' But her father cut her off. 'Neither sight nor sound has been had of the highwayman for over two months. Now that the Horse Patrol has been put in place to catch him he has likely taken himself elsewhere. And even were he still around, the hour is yet early. He would be lying drunk in some tavern, not waiting upon the heath especially for us. I will not risk losing Pickering.' 'It always comes down to my marrying,' said Marianne with a heavy heart and looked away. 'Marianne.' Her father gave a sigh and took her hand between his own. 'You know you mean the world to me, do you not?' She gave a nod. 'That I would only ever do what is best for you?' 'Yes, Papa.' It was the truth. 'Then believe me, my dearest, when I tell you that marrying Pickering is for the best.' She nodded again. She would marry Mr Pickering because her father had arranged it and it was the right thing to do, even though the thought of becoming the man's wife filled her with dread. The carriage slowed to a crawl to cross a narrow bridge and the sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her father's face as he smiled at her. She could see the specks of dust floating in the sunbeams, could see the gentleness of her father's eyes. His hands were warm around hers. Everything in the world seemed to quieten and calm. The wheels fell silent. Even the birds ceased to sing. It was a moment of pure tranquillity in the golden light. And then the shot exploded and all hell broke loose. The grooms were shouting and the coachman yelled a curse before a loud thud sounded. The horses whinnied. The coach lurched, then stopped. Something hard and big hit one panel, making her jump. She stared at the side from which the noise had emanated and, from the corner of her eye, saw the dark shadow move across the window. There was galloping and screaming and running feet. Then silence. Her father scrabbled for his pistols in the pocket of the door and sat ready, a pistol primed in each hand, his eyes flicking nervously from one door to another, waiting. She could hear the thud of her own heart and the heaviness of her father's breathing. 'The highwayman…' she whispered. 'It must be.' Her father's jaw was clamped tight. He gave no response. 'Give me one of the pistols, Papa. Please.' 'Do not be so foolish, Marianne,' he snapped and his knuckles were white where he gripped so tight at the pistols' handles. They waited, and there was nothing. They waited, and the seconds dragged; the fear and the dread were almost overwhelming. Her father must have felt it, too, for he muttered beneath his breath, 'Come, show yourself.' But whoever, or whatever, was outside did not heed him. Nothing moved. Not even a flicker. The air was so thick with tension that she felt she might choke with it. Time held its breath as surely as Marianne. Nothing happened. She wondered if their assailant had fled, whether they were alone. Her father must have thought the same, for he looked across at her and gave a slight shake of the head, she knew that he meant for her to remain silent and say nothing. She nodded and watched him edge towards the door.just as it swung open. Her father's pistol fired, a deafening noise within the confines of the coach, so loud that her ears hurt from it and her eyes watered from the cloud of blue smoke. The stench of it was acrid, filling her nostrils, catching in her throat. She made to move, but her father's hand caught hard at her wrist, thrusting her back down on to her seat. 'Stay where you are, Marianne!' The silence in the aftermath of the pistol shot seemed almost as loud as the shot itself. It hissed in her ears and seemed to vibrate through her very bones. Through the smoke she saw a shadow flit across the open doorway and heard the taunt of a man's harsh whisper. Her father fired at the shadow with his second pistol and launched himself out of the open doorway. There was a thud against the carriage panel at the side of the door and the coach rocked as if something had been thrown against it. She heard a grunt of pain and then an ominous silence that made her stomach drop right down to her shoes. 'Papa?' She checked the door pockets for a spare pistol, but her father had taken no such precaution, so she hoisted up her skirts and scrambled to the door, trampling on the pink-and-white posy in her desperation to save her father. The smoke was clearing and the scene was quite clear before her as she jumped down from the coach. The horses had been cut loose. Of the coachman, grooms and footmen there was no sign. Her father was leaning back against the side of the coach, his face powder-white, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, staring with angry black eyes filled with the promise of violence. Marianne knew that the highwayman was there, knew that he must be watching her at that very moment, but she could not look. Her heart was thudding hard; the fear was pounding through her blood and she was afraid to look, even though she knew that she must. Taking a deep breath to control her rising panic, she slowly followed her father's gaze to the tall dark highwayman. He was dressed in black, wearing a long shabby greatcoat and, beneath it, a pair of buckskin breeches. His boots were scuffed, the leather cracking in places with age and wear. Even his gloves were dark and old, well worn. On his head was an old-fashioned tricorn hat; it too was black to match the rest of his outfit, and under it she could see his unfashionably long hair, the colour of rich dark mahogany. All of this she absorbed in an instant, with barely a glance, for her focus was fixed firmly on the dark kerchief that was tied across his lower face, hiding his identity. Her stomach was clenched small and tight, and beneath the ivory-and-pink-patterned silk of her skirt her legs were trembling. Her eyes lingered on the piece of cloth for a moment, then she screwed her courage to the mast and, with slow deliberation, she raised them to meet his. The highwayman's eyes were not cruel and pale, but a warm honeyed brown, and his gaze was steady and strong and compelling, holding...