Heired Lines by Magan Vernon
Sometimes, you’ve got to take a job with the devil to pay the bills…
Too bad I learned too late the devil wears Armani, is the most uptight man in the history of history, and I just signed an unbreakable contract shackling me to his pompous royal side for the summer.
But God, he’s got this British accent that makes my panties melt.
Until the words he says catch up with my brain and make me want to throw one of his precious vases at his head.
One minute we’re fighting—and the next—we can’t keep our hands off each other. Because somehow, when Mr. Blue Eyes is kissing me, he makes me forget how much he annoys me.
And that starts a whole new level of complications I. Don’t. Need.
Cuz if you dance with the devil, someone’s gonna end up getting burned…
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Magan Vernon believes that no matter what your story is, everyone deserves a happily ever after and tries to include that in all of her stories. She's had top 100 stories in everything from YA aliens to angsty New Adult tales.
When not writing, you can find her on her Texas ranch, trying to wrangle two kids, two dogs, and a colony of whatever other kids or animals ends up in her yard.
Find her online at www.maganvernon.com
What inspired you to write your book?
I was watching an episode of Queer Eye where a man had inherited his great aunt's house that hadn't been updated since the 1970s and he hadn't updated it either. It made me think, what if a royal man inherited a great aunt's castle and it was full of junk but junk he couldn't get rid of it since it was all historical?
Here is a short sample from the book:
“Um, can I, uh, start with a water and get a food menu? And, um, do you have an outlet or someplace to charge my phone?” I held up the dead device, putting on my best smile, though my lips trembled as a nervous laugh escaped.
The bartender rolled her eyes before glancing at the row of full barstools. When she turned back to me, I swore she scowled, her mouth open and ready to tell me to shove my phone somewhere.
But before she could say anything, a slim phone slid across the counter, and the hulking frame of a man scooted into the seat next to me.
Okay, maybe hulking wasn’t the right word, but at my five-foot-two, he was at least a foot taller than me. Unlike me, he wasn’t soaking wet. He wore a crisp suit, molding to his broad shoulders. Then that face, like it was chiseled with a bright white row of straight teeth, a hint of stubble on those high cheekbones, brilliant blue eyes, and tousled, sandy blond hair. He was the opposite of my drenched-rat look.
“Here, you can use my phone,” he said in a commanding voice with an English accent that practically purred.
I would have taken it if I actually remembered the phone number and not just saved it in my dead phone.
“That’s okay. I just need a quick charge to call my ride,” I said quickly, forcing a smile so I would at least seem polite.
He didn’t miss a beat, his gaze still focused on me as he slid his phone back in his pocket. “Your ride may be a while. Most of the roads are flooded, unless she lives in town.”
“I think it’s a he who lives in town, and I’m not exactly sure where he lives.”
He arched an eyebrow, a small crack in his beautiful exterior. “So you have someone picking you up, but you don’t know where he lives? Let me guess, you don’t know his phone number or what he looks like, either, so really, he could be an ole bloke in this place.”
My entire body tensed as I glanced toward the bar, hoping maybe the bartender would come to my rescue with some free peanuts and a charger. But, of course, she was chatting up another set of patrons, not even glancing in our direction.
Way to save a girl from random pub dude.
Really attractive random pub dude, but still.
“I was hired to help out this guy clean out his family’s estate. I’m a historian, and he needs help with some of the older pieces on the property, so I’ll be curating them.” I sat as straight as I could, trying to add as much confidence as a girl with soaking wet clothes could to her voice and appearance.
He smirked, a breathy laugh escaping his nose. “So you met a man online who offered you a position in England to clean out his family’s place, not knowing anything about him, and yet you came? This sounds like one of those catfish TV shows you Americans love.”
I slumped involuntarily as I put my hands on my hips, ignoring how heavy my wet blouse was as it dragged my arms down. “I did do an internet search on this guy I’m supposed to meet. He doesn’t have any social media presence, and the only photos I found of any Gavin Webleys were of an old man cleaning shotguns.”
The man in front of me just smiled, not saying a damn word.
It was the bartender who cleared her throat, and I turned to face her, finally trying to control my breathing after I spit everything out to the smirking guy next to me.
The woman pushed a glass of water and a phone charger across the counter. “Here ya go, love, but if you really are looking for Lord Gavin Webley, I don’t think you’re going to need the charger.”
I stiffened, licking my lips, before I tried keeping my voice and posture steady.
Did she just say Lord? As in nobility? “Did he call into the pub?”
She shook her head then nodded toward the well-dressed man next to me. “Can I get you anything, Lord Webley?”
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My Paper Heart by Magan Vernon
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Aloft by Ben Rovik @BenRovik
Junior technician Ensie Thalanquin is the odd girl out in the Aerial squad. Building flying machines should be an exciting life, but years of being alternately teased and ignored by her fellow Petronauts have turned it into a grind.
Cooper Carper is a hard-working machinist whose boss has made him his personal whipping boy.
Love was the last thing they were looking for when they went to work. But sometimes love pops up in the most unlikely places…
Can they keep a relationship afloat despite the differences in their backgrounds, the meddling of their superiors, and the pressure of a dangerous flight test a few short weeks away?
I’m an author, actor and dad living outside Washington, DC with my wife, baby girl, and a brawling pair of cats.
My current projects are the humorous fantasy series “Mechanized Wizardry” and a related series of medium/short length pieces called “Petronaut Tales.” The Petronaut Tales are set in the same fantasy world, but give me license to play with new characters and genres, including romance.
With “Aloft,” I was inspired to write a romance about characters who weren’t especially beautiful, and who spent most of the lives feeling overlooked and out of place. Meeting each other is what lifts them up to do great things, even through adversity and danger.
Why not write about a passion-fest between two supermodels? Because most of the world’s passion-fests are between ordinary folks. I wanted to explore the reactions of two characters who didn’t ever imagine themselves capable of feeling a love that strong, let alone inspiring it in someone else. And I wanted to show how love can make people stronger, which was easier to do with characters starting from a lower-status place.
Sample from Book:
Ensie smoothed out the dog-eared corner of the blueprints for the dozenth time. She shifted her weight on the bench, feeling the warmth of the sun on the back of her neck. She was too poor to own a watch, but she resisted the temptation to duck out into the hallway again and check the sepia-faced clock mounted on the wall. It had been 10:20 on the spot when she’d checked it moments ago. That meant that, by now, twenty-five minutes at most had passed since she’d left Mister Upforth and the rest of his team. And Upforth had said Cooper—or was it Carper?—would meet her in fifteen minutes. But the drafting room might be hard to find, for a civilian who’d never seen the Aerial compound before. And there had been an awful lot of wood left in that cart for just one person to move quickly. Even someone so tall, with those big arms and broad shoulders…
“You need to get a hold of yourself,” she said aloud, pressing her palm against the desk. She closed her eyes.
You’re an Aerial technician. Your ‘naut wants a consultation from a civilian firm. You’ve been trusted with getting information vital to the success of your project. This is Business with a capital B. Not some kind of private—
—and don’t you dare even finish that thought, because seriously: this is Business.
She scratched the space between her too-thick eyebrows as she looked at the door.
And even if it wasn’t Business, the morose thought crept through her defenses, it’s not as if anything’s going to happen. Any friendly vibes you’re getting are because he’s good at his job. Do you really think that there’s anything about you that would inspire unprofessional thoughts in a civilian guy like him? When he’s meeting all the other wisecracking Aerial girls and the Parade squad knockouts on the same day? Count yourself lucky you’re getting to talk to him at all. You’re just—
The door inched open. Ensie leapt to her feet behind the desk. There he was.
“There you are,” she said, rubbing her hands against her hips.
“So sorry,” he mumbled, turning sideways to come through the narrow door. He sounded a little out of breath. “I… I thought I heard you say ‘third building on the right,’ but I must have misheard. That’s actually the, uh, fuel center, I learned, where you guys are doing some crazy things with petrolatum…”
“Oh, gosh, you went to the refinery?”
“Yeah, through a back door. Got a little turned around with the fumes. But then someone—I forgot his name—pointed me here…”
“Spheres, I led you to the refinery without a mask! I am so sorry. I don’t know why I… I meant to say ‘first building on your—’”
“You did. I’m sure you did. I just heard it wrong—”
“No, no, I’m sure I said… I don’t know what I said!”
“Listen, with these ears, all bets are off. It’s a miracle I’m here at all.”
“It is.”
They stood facing each other with their hands flat against their hips. The sunlight illuminated the lower halves of their bodies.
“I’m Ensie,” she said, for no reason.
Why, oh why, oh why do I speak?
He smiled at her. His teeth were a little small and his gums were a little long, so when he smiled he looked like a kid, with a child’s whole-hearted good humor. “That makes, what, the third time we’ve done introductions?”
“I’m sure, probably,” she laughed. She touched her fingertips to the desk and found herself leaning towards him. “My third time, at least. And somehow I’m still not sure what your name is! Carper? Cooper? Caper?”
“Cooper Carper, actually.”
She felt herself smiling like a porpoise. She ordered her lips to stand down. Business. “Nice to meet you, Mister Carper,” she said, very professionally.
“You too, technician.”
She tilted her head at him. ‘Technician?’ Who are you, Sir Tomas? “You can call me Ensie.”
“Well, then,” he said, pressing the door closed behind him with a click, “you can call me Cooper.”
Business!
“I’m on a project now for a concept craft called the Flicker,” she said, brushing the blueprints with her hands as she stared fixedly at the parchment. Cooper came over to the side of the desk to look. His hands floated in space for a moment as he considered resting a big palm on top of the desk to lean over the plans, as she was doing, which would have brought their heads very close together. But instead his hands interlocked behind his back in a sort of parade rest and he just bent his head to look down. Ensie tried not to watch him as she folded the dog-eared corner back into place for the thirteenth time.
She laid out the specifications for the grasshopper-like craft, discussing fuel projections, the airflow models they’d run, and the properties of the alloys they’d debated for the hollow, curved wings. Cooper’s head bobbed up and down, and he offered a succession of mmm’s and I see’s at appropriate times. As she heard herself talk, she fidgeted with the bottom edge of the desk and only allowed herself quick glances up at his face. It was hard to tell if he was following the run-down at all, which gave her a heavy feeling in her stomach.
Burn me. Maybe Mister Upforth had a good reason for wanting that woman Skye to be the one to talk to me…
“So,” he said at last, shifting his weight. She looked up at him. “What exactly do you need us for?”
“Just wanted to, uh, forge a partnership with Upforth’s for a consultation on our ranine apparatus. That’s all.”
Cooper nodded. His forehead was wrinkled with vigorous thought. Ensie folded her hands together and tried not to let her disappointment show. He had the look of someone at an absolute loss for the right thing to say. Please, please, don’t be stupid.
“Honestly?” Cooper said.
“Mmm-hmm?” she said, tucking one of her bangs back into her hairnet.
For a long moment, he just looked at the plans. Then he shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. His hands reappeared from behind his back and he leaned down so quickly their foreheads almost brushed.
“Mister Upforth’s going to kill me,” he said, “but I don’t think you need us at all. The ranine designs you already deploy don’t have any trouble getting a Bulwark Petronaut off the ground, do they? And a Bulwark ‘naut in full armor’s gotta be eighty percent of the weight of this Flicker; maybe even the same, if their suits are steel and this alloy of yours is as light as all that. And I can’t imagine your test pilots are bulked-up the way Bulwark grunts are. I mean, who flies your things?”
“Knighted ‘nauts and expert techs, mostly,” Ensie said, her eyes widening. There was a whole new energy to him.
“So, right! When I think of a burly man or woman in armor jumping through the air no problem, and then I envision someone on the svelte side—like you—piloting a Flicker that, all things being equal, is the same weight but with, you know, better airflow?”
“Hang on,” she said.
“Sure. Sorry. I know I don’t have the right terminology—”
“Did you say, uh.”
She pressed her lips together. Business! But there was no hope.
“Did you say I’m ‘on the svelte side?’”
Cooper’s looked down at her. His face went gray with horror.
“I hope that word means what I think it means,” he whispered.
She looked to the far wall. Cute? Petite? Is that what you meant? She longed to ask him that like a Parade squad nymph would say it, drifting towards him with an archly raised eyebrow and a lazy, kissable half-smile. But just playacting through the line in her head set a swarm of nervous giggles buzzing around in her throat, perilously close to her voice box, and it was all she could do to keep a lid on them.
“You’re.” Was that my voice? The word was a mortifying squeak.
Ensie swallowed and tried again. “You’re right that the aerodynamic profile of the Flicker sure beats an armored ‘naut,” she said, folding the corner of the blueprints back for the fourteenth time. “And weights are comparable. But the jumping action we’re thinking of is on a different scale.”
“Ah, okay. Higher elevations.”
“Yes, but more importantly, jumping’s the primary locomotion for the Flicker. A ‘naut can leap around from time to time, sure, but most of what they do is run. A totally different use of the coils and their, uh, built-in suspensions. Their legs.”
“Whereas the Flicker does nothing but jump,” Cooper said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Jump, and glide, and jump, and glide. You see? That’s why we need to make sure the coil box we build can handle tons of impacts, and launch with tons of force; but not so much force that the pilot loses control. See? It’s tricky.”
“It’s tricky,” he agreed. Cooper raised his hands. “To be honest, though, I’d trust you Aerials more to make it work right than I’d trust us.”
“But, uh.” Was he really going to walk out of her life because he was too honest to land his company a contract? Keep him. Keep him here! a hungry voice blared out somewhere inside her.
“You must have done something this size before,” she said, hurriedly.
“Oh, sure. We’ve worked big carriage suspensions. A motorized dais that raised and lowered, too, and had a bunch of dancers leaping around on it for, uh, a play or something.”
“See? So Upforth’s could lend experience with scale, while we figure out the whole ‘aloft’ part.”
“Ensie. I just want to be sure we wouldn’t waste your time.”
Ensie took a deep breath through her nose. “It would take a lot of time,” she said slowly. She curled her hands into little fists, rubbing her thumbs against her fingers as she looked up at him. No giggling. No giggling!
“We’d have to meet, uh… quite a few times, probably.”
Cooper looked down at her. His hands unlocked from behind his back and floated to his sides. “Quite a few times?” he said, quietly.
“Oh, yeah. A big project like this could take hours and hours of collaboration.”
He nodded. One of his large fingers pointed to the desk. “Here?”
As he tapped the surface of the desk, Ensie thought of purposes for the wide flat surface that had never even crossed her mind before. She’d never wanted to get started on a collaboration so badly.
“Or your workshop,” she said. “You know. Whichever sounds more productive.”
“Either sounds good to me.”
“Great.”
“Great. Can I say—”
“I just want to—”
They both spoke up simultaneously, and leaned a little closer at the same time. It brought them many centimeters closer than either had meant independently. Ensie froze there. He was so close that her hairnet was almost brushing the center of his chest. She turned her face up to him and saw something very interesting in his eyes.
“You first,” she whispered.
Cooper took a long moment before speaking. “Can I just tell you that I’m looking forward to working with you?”
“Likewise…” Ensie shifted her hand so their fingertips on the desk were touching. “Cooper.”
He shifted his hand on top of hers. Warm pressure, skin-to-skin, flooded up her arm and into her chest. The contours of his rough palm were fascinating as she explored them through the fine hairs and delicate nerves of the back of her hand. Her vision went a little blurry as she dedicated all her brainpower to experiencing his touch against her skin.
A massive noise clattered through the hallway just outside. Ensie recoiled before she recognized the sound of the tool cart for what it was. Cooper started too, raising his hand up and away. He flushed the color of an overripe apple and he refused to meet her eyes as the tech outside pushed the noisy cart from one workroom to the next.
“I.” Ensie brushed the nonexistent dust off the blueprints again, trying to get her voice under control again. Cooper slowly put his hands behind his back.
“That, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional of me, and I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him.
“I shouldn’t have… I mean, I didn’t mean anything by, by touching you.”
“You didn’t?”
“Well, I… it’s not… There’s a time and a place, that’s all. Unprofessional,” he rambled, shaking his head.
Ensie felt the grain of the desk beneath her hand. “I made you think unprofessional thoughts,” she murmured.
Their eyes met.
“It’ll never happen again,” he said, something low coloring his voice.
Ensie raised one eyebrow in an unspoken ‘really?’ she would have been very proud of if she had been able to see herself.
Sunlight flooded the room as their lips pressed together.
Goddess & the Geek by Louise Cusack
Career academic Julian Wilde has a month booked at an island hideaway to finish his PhD, but when he arrives, sexy oyster farmer Natasha Barri grabs him thinking he’s a burglar and suddenly asthma isn’t the only thing making Julian breathless. The house has been double booked so they’re forced to share and Julian readily agrees to cook, hoping to use the voodoo potions he’s discovered online to make Tasha fall in love with him. Disaster follows debacle as Julian tries to impress her, and she tries not to kill him.
Read Goddess & the Geek to see if Julian can crack open Tasha’s hermit-shell heart and prove he’s the geek for her…
Previously print published by Harper Collins and winner of the International PRISM romantic novella award.
Who Killed ‘Tom Jones’? by Gale Martin
Ellie Overton is a 28-year-old rest home receptionist with a pussycat nose who also happens to be gaga for the pop singer Tom Jones. Regrettably single, she is desperate to have a white-hot love relationship, like those she’s read about in romance novels. Following an astrological hunch, she attends a Tom Jones Festival and meets an available young impersonator with more looks and personality than talent. Though he’s knocked out of the contest, he’s still in the running to become Ellie’s blue-eyed soul mate—until he’s accused of killing off the competition. It’s not unusual that the handsome police detective working the case is spending more time pursuing Ellie than collaring suspects. So, she enlists some wily and witty rest home residents to help find the real murderer. Will Ellie crack the case? Must she forfeit her best chance for lasting love to solve the crime?
Now You See It . . . by Teresa Roblin
The harder she resists him, the faster her clothes will vanish.
Outspoken Sarah Santorelli hides her sensitive side behind a gruff personality. Fear of abandonment causes her to manipulate romantic relationships to avoid involving her heart. But when her prying aunt casts a spell on her, Sarah ends up on a voyage of discovery on the open seas.
The problem? Every time Sarah lets her guard down, instead of casting off her emotional barriers —the spell makes an item of clothing disappear.
Anthony Mancini has clawed his way to the top. Along the way he’s become a workaholic, putting the demands of his company above those he loves. That’s how he lost Sarah, and he wants a second chance to prove he’s changed.
Thanks to Aunt Lilly’s spell, and a week-long European cruise, stripping Sarah of her defenses just got easier.
The Thing About Rainbows by Mack Kittle
Kate is everything Hank’s been looking for — fun, funny, sexy . . . sane. There’s only one problem. He stumbles on an old Internet dating profile and finds out he’s nothing like the man she was seeking.
After an argument, Kate must convince Hank that she’s finally figured out that the man of her dreams isn’t sitting on a shelf somewhere prepackaged to her specifications. For his part, Hank must convince Kate that he can put the past behind him and that lasting relationships, like rainbows, are forged during times of turbulence.
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