Amelia Wilde has revealed the cover for Net Worth!
Releasing: September 14, 2021
Cover Design: Book Beautiful
Mason Hill wants one thing: revenge. When Charlotte Van Kempt walks into his office, all innocence and desperation, he knows the perfect way to get it. He makes a dark bargain. She’ll give him her body to save her family. Little does she know he plans to ruin both.
Amelia Wilde is a USA TODAY bestselling author of dangerous contemporary romance and loves it a little too much. She lives in Michigan with her husband and daughters. She spends most of her time typing furiously on an iPad and appreciating the natural splendor of her home state from where she likes it best: inside.
From Wall Street Journal bestselling author Giana Darling comes the conclusion to the Anti-Heroes in Love duet, a gripping mafia romance about the capo who will risk everything to keep the woman he loves safe…
I am the hero no one wanted…
I was a murderer.
One of the cruelest and wealthiest men in New York City.
Dante Salvatore, capo of capos.
Yet I had one weakness.
Cold as ice, sharp as the edge of broken glass, and more beautiful than any woman should have the right to be, she stormed my defenses and razed my life as I knew it to the ground. For her, I would once again play the hero and prove myself worthy of her unconquerable heart.
For her, I would change everything.
I could have left her to the enemies hounding me, but instead, I made the unforgivable decision to take her with me to the old country. Now, there is no other option. In order to keep both of us safe, Elena Lombardi must become my wife.
His eyes pinned to mine, he bent his torso to brace both hands on my armrests, effectively caging me into my seat.
My heart raced with a curious mixture of fear and excitement.
It was Dante’s unique charm that convinced you he might as easily kiss you as kill you.
“Perhaps it would help if I reminded you why you gave up everything you know to be with me,” he purred in that rich, dark voice I wanted to eat off his tongue like dark chocolate.
I was aroused, there was no denying it. A second pulse beat between my thighs, growing more and more insistent. My nipples were pebbled beneath my silk camisole despite the heavy cashmere cardigan I wore over it. The airplane air was cool, but every inch of my flesh itched with heat.
Yet, I felt nervous, awkward and almost irritated.
I wanted to play this game of seduction, but how in the world did I compete with the raw sexual magnetism of this man?
I felt when I had spent so many years quelling every emotion.
I trusted that, the feeling.
Even if I was wary of where it would take me.
So, I sucked in a bracing breath and raised my hands to slide my fingers around his warm neck into the short hairs at the back of his head.
“Show me,” I told him, barely above a whisper. “But I don’t need reminding. I could never forget why I left it all behind. I could never forget you.”
A growl worked through his throat as he dipped down to capture my mouth in a savage kiss. It was all tongue and teeth, a dance of ownership. I didn’t back down to his possession, desperate to show him how much I wanted to possess every inch of him too.
“Kissing you is the sweetest agony,” he murmured against my damp lips as one big hand moved to my throat. The feel of him collaring me that way should have been deplorable. Instead, it felt like the most exquisite necklace, one I wanted to wear with pride forevermore. “I never want to stop kissing you at the same time it makes me hungry for more.”
“Don’t stop,” I implored him, fisting my hands in his shirt collar so I could tug him harder against my mouth. “Kiss me.”
Giana Darling is an USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and Top 40 Amazon Best Selling Canadian romance writer who specializes in the taboo and angsty side of love and romance. She currently lives in beautiful British Columbia where she spends time riding on the back of her man’s bike, baking pies, and reading snuggled up with her Golden Retriever puppy, Romeo.
J.T. Geissinger is a #1 internationally bestselling author of emotionally charged romance and women’s fiction. Ranging from funny, feisty romcoms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold millions of copies and been translated into several languages, including German, Hebrew, French, Czech, and Japanese. The film & TV rights to her Night Prowler series have been optioned by the BAFTA-winning studio that created VFX for movies such as Avatar, X-Men, and The Avengers.
She is a three-time finalist in both contemporary and paranormal romance for the RITA® Award, the highest distinction in romance fiction from the Romance Writers of America®. She is also a recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book and the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy.
She’s a Southern California native currently living in Nevada with her husband and rescue kitty, Zoe.
Luca Sabatini saved me and an entire truck full of women on our way to be sold into sex trafficking—but who will save me from him?
He tells me I belong to him, that a Sabatini keeps what is his. I shouldn’t want to belong to anyone, yet a longing I don’t understand thrums through me—an attraction I cannot deny. Except it’s not safe for me, or him. I climbed into the back of the truck of my own free will because I’m running from a fate far worse.
For the first time in my life I feel safe with Luca. He promises no one will ever hurt me again. He will protect me from what I’m running from; he’ll kill anyone who is a threat to me. I want to believe him—he’s run Vegas for the Outfit for almost as long as I’ve been alive. Only the man I’m running from has an entire army behind him. If I thought Luca could go up against him and survive, I would stay, but others have tried and paid with not just their lives but the lives of their families. I could never live with myself if Luca and the Sabatini family ended up dead because of me.
When I’m found the reckoning is one of bullets and blood, just as I feared. Only one question remains: Once the smoke clears, who will be left standing?
This is the third book in the Sabatini Family series however it can be read as a standalone and does not end in a cliffhanger. This a dark mafia romance with elements that may be disturbing and include triggers.
Due to commitment issues I have lived in many different cities and my favorite is Chicago but I have managed to settle into Austin and perhaps my commitment issues are behind me.
I have enjoyed reading from a very young age and it wasn’t long before the children books bored me and I read the books my mother enjoyed Stephen King and Dean Koontz and I didn’t sleep without the light on until I was about ten. I came across my first Harlequin by accident and it was love at first read, no one died and happy endings? It was a whole new world and I loved it.
I wrote my first story at eight and everyone died, of course. Since then I would like to think I’ve gotten better and now I’m writing the happily ever afters I first fell in love with, with some hot sex thrown in along the way
As a plus size woman myself, I have started writing the stories I always wanted to see myself in but never did. And now I’m ecstatic to give BBWs the happily ever afters with hot Alphas they so rarely get.
Forbidden. Commanding. Mysterious. Beau Rochester has an entire house full of secrets. And those secrets are putting Jane Mendoza in danger.
She fell in love with the one man she can’t have. She should leave Maine to protect her heart, but the thread refuses to be severed. The brooding Mr. Rochester and his grieving niece are more than her job. They’re her new family.
She races against time to find answers and protect the people she loves. The cliffside grows dark with the misdeeds of the past. Her heart and her sanity fight a battle, but they are both at risk.
Will Mr. Rochester learn to trust Jane? And will that trust destroy her?
Download today on Amazon, Apple Books, Google Play, Barnes & Noble, Kobo!
Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dangerous romance such as the Endgame trilogy. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, sweet dogs, and evil cat.
“The only thing worse than knowing you love someone irrevocably is feeling your sanity leave your soul anytime he looks at you.”
“You give a villain something worth fighting for and he’ll burn the whole fucking world to ash just to hear her heartbeat one more time.”
“Death is the experience you feel when you lose someone you love; pain in just the aftershock.”
I just finished Sancte Diaboli: Part Two and I am not ok. I am at a complete and utter loss of words. My mind has blown and I can not believe the crazy ride my heart just went on….
When I first picked up Sancte Diaboli: Part Two, I’m not gonna lie. I was scared, terrified of what was going to happen next. There was a reason I waited so long to read Sancte Diaboli: Part One and now that Part Two was finally here, I was afraid my heart wouldn’t be able to take it. I was right to be scared. My heart racing the entire time I read this story. At times, I felt like I couldn’t read fast enough. I was at a constant war with myself. Read faster, but try to savor it.
Sancte Diaboli: Part Two picks up right where the last book left off and hits the ground running without looking back. This book pulls out all the stops and leaves no stone unturned. This book had so many twists, turns, and shocking surprises. You will be left questioning everything you think you know and understand. A war has been started and only the Elite Kings can bring it to an end. The only thing you can do is just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Saint and Brantley’s story was absolutely EVERYTHING! I was on the edge of my seat the entire time, trying, but epically failing to see where this story would go. Author Amo Jones did an amazing job of weaving this web of lies, betrayal, and revelations. Wild horses wouldn’t have been able to stop me from finishing this book. And now, as I’ve finished this story and am trying to find all the words, I am just in awe. What a crazy, crazy ride.
I am full of so many feels right now. Sancte Diaboli: Part Two doesn’t disappoint and is definitely a top read of 2021 for this reader. If you love dark and twisted reads that will utterly consume you, I highly recommend checking out the Elite King’s Club Series. You will not be disappointed!!
*I was provided an ARC copy of this book in exchange for an honest review*
Ghost I do my best work in the shadows. Trained to be a killer, it’s all I’ve ever known. All I’ve ever cared to know. I embrace pain and destruction, turning everything I touch into ash. I’m a ghost. No past. No present. No future. Until Ava. This woman sparks a hunger in me; a dark, dangerous desire. I need to fight it or risk destroying the one person who makes me feel hope.
The Devil knows I’d burn the world for one taste. God better have mercy because I won’t.
I looked up, about to make another sarcastic comment about these fucking heels when my gaze stuttered to halt on his crotch.
Dear fucking God.
He wore only three items of clothing – a fucking frat boy cap, grey sweat pants, and a sleeveless zip hoodie that he’d left open.
His insane eight pack with just the right amount of chest hair might have been fucking impressive, but it was the outline of his cock against the grey material that killed me.
Oh God. Oh, my fucking God.
I sucked in a breath, struggling, and failing to lift my gaze from the glorious outline of his dick.
My name was no longer a question but a growl. As I watched, his already generous size lengthened, growing thicker, more rigid.
Thank the good Lord for sweat pants.
“Eyes,” Ghost barked and I snapped, looking up.
He watched me, his face—as always—carved from stone. But his eyes, oh his glorious eyes. They were hot and filled with filthy promises.
“I need to focus,” he told me, his tone guttural. “They changed it up. Means I gotta win this tonight. Now.”
I licked my lips, then bent, quickly tying the straps of the remaining heel then straightened to a stand. The heels gave me a few extra inches that brought me closer to his height.
I reached out, sliding my hand down his chest, fingers running across his pecs and down his stomach, following the goody trail to the waistband of his sweats.
Don’t shut down. I need something from you. Anything. Just in case.
Ghost stood like a rock under my hand—motionless, as if craved from marble. Only the heat of his skin let me know he was a living, breathing man.
Well, that and his impressive dick.
My hand dropped further, cupping his cock through his sweats, the heavy weight hard and hot in my hand.
He growled, the rumble involuntary and delightfully animalistic. I ignored the flood of moisture that slicked my pussy at the sound.
Needing to win this battle of wills that was being waged silently between us, I placed my free hand on his shoulder, boosting myself up until my lips could brush his ear, my words only for him.
“Survive, and I might let you fuck my mouth.”
I pulled back but his hands shot out halting my retreat. One hand fisted my hair, the other pressing my hand back onto his thick cock, his body grinding against my palm.
I shuddered, wet heat drenching my underwear and thighs.
Ghost held me steady as he leaned in, his lips less than a hairsbreadth from mine.
“And if I triumph? If I fuck those little boys up and win this fight? If I return your women to you tonight? Will you give me your cunt, Ava? Will you let me taste your cream?”
My legs clenched, my nipples responding to the harsh need in his voice.
“You sure you’d prefer that over a blow job?” I asked lightly, trying to sound casual even as I pressed closer, desperate to feel the rasp of my nipples against his chest. “You’ve already tasted me.”
His hand let go of mine, shifting to my hip, pulling me closer then coasting over my side then down, lifting the hem of my skirt. His big, calloused hand slipped under to find my underwear, one finger rubbing against the material.
“Soaked,” he growled, his breath rough against my cheek. “You want this.”
His finger pulled my panties to the side, slipping between my lips to rub through my wet. I sucked in a breath at the intrusion. Blunt, rough and oh so fucking welcome, he rubbed my clit, teasing and stroking, his gaze electric.
So much emotion.
I shifted, swaying those two tiny breaths towards him, closing the distance between us, desperate and needing release.
It’s been so long. Too fucking long.
It’d been more than twenty-four hours since he’d last touched me like this, and I needed it like a druggy looking for their next fix.
Make me come.
Abruptly, Ghost pulled back, dropping his hands from my body, banking the heat in his eyes. I watched as he returned to that dead place inside him.
I took a second, reorientating myself, the heat from his touch still branded onto my skin. As I watched, he lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking my taste from them.
“You dirty fucker,” I whispered, pressing my thighs together, hating and loving the way my body ached for him. “You better fucking win.”
Fuck, Ava. Don’t let him see how much you want this.
I straightened, fixed my skirt then stepped passed him, moving to lead us out of the room as I threw my parting words over my shoulder.
Evie Mitchell is a thirty-something woman who loves dirty books, bad boys, and men who know how to treat their woman right. She lives with her husband, their sausage dog, and an ever-growing collection of book-related mugs.
When she’s not writing, Evie loves curling up in the sun with a good book and a cup of tea. Evie specialises in spunky reads for curious minds.
A brotherhood of murderers whose nature compels them to kill. But guided by their leader, Gabriel, the Fallen have learned to use their urges to rid the world of those it is better off without.
Control. Diel has spent his entire life under it. His childhood years were spent in the sadistic captivity of the Brethren. Now the Fallen are free, but the monster that lives inside Diel is not—can not be. The darkness within is curbed by an electric collar, the only thing that stops Diel from killing everyone in his path.
Diel’s monster yearns for freedom—the freedom to tear apart Brethren priests, as many as possible, one after the other in a frenzied, liberating spree. When Diel is granted a taste of that freedom, he expects bloodlust, violence, death.
He didn’t expect to find her.
The Fallen are not the only ones chasing the destruction of the Brethren. They were not the only ones to suffer at the priests’ hands. This Diel discovers when he stumbles upon Noa, second in command of the Coven, a group of women who are intent on bringing the Brethren down.
From the second they collide, Noa seems to understand Diel in a way that no one ever has before. She is unafraid of his rage, the bloodthirsty monster that dwells within him.
Because there is a darkness inside Noa too, and it recognises the one in Diel as if it is the missing half of her soul. For years she has tried to suppress it, but as she is inescapably drawn to the fury-filled man in the collar, she starts to wonder if she can keep up the fight.
She starts to wonder if she even should…
Dark contemporary romance. Contains sexual situations, violence, sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language, and topics some may find triggering. Recommended for age 18 years and up.
Diel opened his eyes, his hazy gaze traveling down the damp gray stone wall around him. His cheek was cold as it pressed against the freezing floor. His neck ached, the throbbing ghost of numbness snaking over his bare shoulders and the top of his spine. His head twitched, and he flitted his eyes to the iron bars that trapped him inside the cage.
The cage he knew all too well.
The monster within him rippled under his skin, waking from the forced sleep it had been plunged into. A spear of anger soared through Diel’s veins, overriding the aches and numbness and the lethargy of his muscles. Again. They had grounded him again. Lamed his monster again.
Jaw clenched and hands fisted, Diel used his waning strength to lift his torso off the slick ground and sat up. His pulse thudded faster and faster at the fact that he was in the fucking cage. But his pulse had no sooner started to race than the metal collar around his neck crackled against his already scarred and scalded skin. The electricity sizzled its warning, a sharp-fanged serpent, ready to strike the minute he lost control of his senses.
Diel breathed deeply and forced his body to still, the darkness within him to rest. Every inch of him became a statue, and the hiss of the collar lessened to a low-grade hum.
He fucking hated the collar. It was the bane of his existence. But it was a necessity.
Diel closed his eyes and thought back to how he’d got to the cage in the first place—a dream. Another fucking dream that had ripped him from sleep and had seen him racing through the manor looking for someone to tear apart, to sate the bloodlust of the monster living inside him.
No. Not just someone. His monster yearned for some very specific someones.
The Brethren. The motherfucking Brethren that he and his brothers had recently destroyed after they’d captured Maria, Raphael’s woman. The Fallen had headed to Holy Innocents, the school that had robbed them of their childhoods and fucked with their bodies and minds. They had descended, for the final time, to Purgatory, the place where they had been held as kids.
And they had burned it to hell.
The flames may have destroyed Diel’s childhood tormentors, but the rage following the inferno remained. The monster that lived inside him, seeking blood and pain and death, only grew stronger, thirstier, more intolerant of the collar that wrapped around his neck like a leash, denying both of them what they craved—death. Such beautiful, sadistic deaths by their hands.
Diel heard the sound of a pencil scratching on paper and turned his head to see Sela sitting on a chair at the side of the Tomb. He was sketching on a pad of paper, eyes fixed on whatever he was creating.
“Upper hallway, left wing,” Sela said, without taking his eyes off the pad. His long dark hair curtained his face as he concentrated on whatever picture he was purging from his creative brain onto the page. “Gabriel had us bring you down here until you awoke.”
The tendons in Diel’s neck corded. The darkness inside was more than pissed at being handled in such a pathetic way. He ground his jaw so hard that the sound of teeth on teeth made Sela lift his eyes and meet his stare.
Sela’s pencil stilled. “Third time this week.”
Diel inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly. He mentally wrestled the monster back until its presence was a dull ache at the back of his head, throbbing like the very worst of migraines. Diel sat back on his ass and laid his arms over his bent knees. His head twitched as he fought the everlasting battle to keep his anger in check.
“The Brethren,” Diel said, voice raspy with exhaustion. Sela twirled the pencil in his fingers as he listened to his best friend, the stick of wood and charcoal practically an extension of his artistic hand.
Diel’s eyes lost focus as he bathed in the memory of his collar being turned off in Purgatory. Anger had filled his veins, and Diel and the monster he kept at arm’s length had become one, united in violence and death, twin dark souls synced and, for once in their lives, calm and at peace as they plunged their twenty-inch blades into the men that had destroyed their childhoods.
Destroyed every single part of them.
“D?” Sela said, pulling Diel from his stupor.
His temples throbbed, his ever-present migraine pounding like iron bars being slammed into his brain over and over again. His migraines had always been bad, the monster never sleeping long enough to grant a reprieve. It was constantly pacing at the back of his mind, desperate to finally be freed of the collar’s stringent control.
Diel rubbed the back of his neck. “I keep replaying that night in Purgatory.” Memories of killing the Brethren flashed like a highlight reel in his mind. “When the collar was off and we finally got to end them …” His cock stirred as he recalled the feel of his blades slicing into flesh, of hitting bone when they plunged too deep. But his excitement misted away to vapor when he remembered the familiar buzz of the collar being reignited and his monster being lashed and gagged once again. “And then Gabe switched it back on.” It had been like a junkie getting his fix, the most hedonistic drug cocktail of his life, only to be abruptly forced to go cold turkey afterward.
Diel’s head twitched again as his pulse began to race at just the memory of smelling the Brethren’s blood on his skin—the sweetest perfume. His hands flexed as he felt the phantom necks that had snapped under his fingers.
The collar buzzed and sent warning volts soaring through his body. His muscles tensed as he absorbed the pain, as it hissed at the monster inside to retreat. To get the fuck back. Sweat beaded on his forehead; a single drop ran down his spine.
Gasping for air, Diel submitted to the monster’s sudden surge of power to snarl, “I want this fucking collar off. I want to be who I was fucking born to be without the restraints.” Diel tensed and threw the monster back from taking control. The monster retreated, but its anger-tipped words echoed around Diel’s head like they were being blasted through speakers. Diel’s stomach turned and a fissure of panic slithered across his fractured soul at that thought. The thought off actually being free from the collar … of what that would look like, feel like …
Diel knew his monster could never be freed. He knew the collar could never come off. It would consume Diel. It would eradicate every part of who he was.
About the author
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.
After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.
After several years living in Italy, Canada and the USA, Tillie has now settled back in her hometown in England, with her husband and new son.
Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.
When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than spending time with her little family, curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, and convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that last square of chocolate.
Betrayal hits people at their happiest and nothing good is ever supposed to last. With a shattered heart and broken body, the biggest enigma of my life finds me.
I knew nothing of what lurked in the dark having lived in a bubble all my life until him. A mafia boss. A ruthless king of the underworld. A dangerous lover and a depraved, beyond salvageable soul.
You can never forge someone into something they are not, but he found the fire from within me and set me aflame.
Unknown enemies at my doorstep and unsolved murders call me to her.
I knew nothing about the sun having been born and raised in the night, until her.
A brilliant forensics scientist. A fearless survivor. A warrior at heart and a lethal siren luring people under her spell.
You can never fix a broken boy much less a damaged man’s soul, but she found the silver of light in me and magnified it.
When the darkest secrets are revealed and the monsters come crawling out at night, literally and figuratively, they have no choice but to work together and learn to trust each other. But will they make it out with their flesh and soul intact?
Claris lives in Sunshine California with her family while she writes across many genres; dark, mafia, fantasy and more! She is an unapologetic food and forensics science fanatic! She is also a digital artist and student on top of writing! She has been mesmerized by enthralling story telling as a kid and loves crime and fantasy shows and movies!