Category: Romantic Suspense

Paranormal Romantic Suspense – In My Dreams

Paranormal Romantic Suspense – In My Dreams

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Underlayes, Book 3
Supernatural Suspense, Paranormal Romance
Release Date: May 10, 2020
Publisher: GothicMoms Studios
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Reina and Ricardo have a relationship that’s as close to perfect as one can get. Coming home after a romantic honeymoon, they’re ready to settle down and begin their life together.
But when Reina literally bumps into someone from her past, their future turns into a thing of uncertainty, and her life begins to unravel. Things are no longer as they seem when this dangerous stranger embeds himself into their lives.
Will this vampire and his bride survive a wizard bound and determined to recreate his obedient mate from a past life? Or will they show him that sometimes the past is best left buried?
***Part of the Underlayes series, but can be read as a standalone.***
Excerpt
I don’t know why so many people always wish they had a do over in life. I mean, I guess I get it in a way. And probably more-so would if what happened to me hadn’t happened. But it did.
I have no memory of the life I led before being turned. Ricardo, my Fated One, and I had been together for only a year, but it felt like I knew him for much longer than that. He said that memory loss was something that sometimes happened to the newly turned. I took his word for it, since that’s not exactly something you can just look up on Google without finding a bunch of nonsense. And we stayed in a pretty tight-lipped community, amongst others like us. But no one delved into anyone else’s business. There were some we were friendly with, but not really friends. He said the night he turned me I had been on the brink of death, that he had found me in an alley left for dead. That he knew me before in passing, and couldn’t just let me die. We’ve been together ever since.
 I woke up after having yet another dream that felt like much more than just that, with my entire body feeling as if I had just done an entire triatholon the night before. I sat up and put my head in my hands, my head feeling like it was in a vice grip from hell. It had been happening for the past few weeks, and had been getting worse instead of better.
I climbed out of bed, careful to not wake Ricardo. It was early still, but I had no intentions of going back to sleep, no way was I risking having another one of those dreams. They hurt too much to wake up from. They weren’t nightmares, far from it, but when I woke up they were fragments I couldn’t manage to piece together. But for some reason I almost always found myself if not in pain, then in tears when I woke up from them. And not just that, there was some form of power inside of me trying to break free, but I had no idea what it was or how to access it, yet.
Stepping into the bathroom I didn’t bother with turning on the light, just slipped my black lace chemise over my head and stepped into our large, walk-in shower, and turned the water as hot as I could bare it. As I stood there directly under the spray flashes of a man kept appearing behind my eyelids. I could barely make out his features, but for whatever reason not being able to recognize him made me more than just sad, but hollow inside like something was missing.
“Rena, why are you up so early love? The sun has just barely set.” As quiet as I had been getting out of the bed I must have still woken Ricardo. I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t even heard him open the shower door. He stood directly behind me and pulled my body flush against his own, swept my hair to the side and gently grazed his fangs along the crook of my neck before letting them sink into my skin.
Ricardo was not a male of many words, but what he lacked in syllables he made up for in sensation. His cold body grew warmer as he fed from me, I could feel his shaft growing and hardening against the crease of my ass. The water cascaded down both of our bodies as he licked the bite marks closed, and his large hands began to work their magic. With one hand, he began kneading my breast, squeezing right to the borderline between pleasure and pain as his other slid down to my hips then around my waist until it found the shaved, heated entrance that was waiting for him. He slipped his fingers, not inside of me, but only slid them along my tight, wet folds, then to tweak and tug at my clitoris, the sensation of that alone enough to put me on the verge of climax.
I whimpered as he removed his hand, but he was by no means done with me yet. Ricardo bent me slightly, splaying his pale ivory hand over my own, much smaller mocha one, interlacing our fingers along the tiles of the shower as I grabbed onto it for purchase. He then entered me in one swift, hard stroke. I screamed out as the feel of his long, wide shaft filled me so completely that if he wasn’t an expert at using it, it would have hurt, instead it felt so good that my juices were already flowing around him. I came again as he found that perfect rhythm, his heavy length sliding up against my walls, the sensation making me so dizzy I would have lost my grip on the wall had he not still had hold of my hand. The water from the showerhead only added to the sensations.
Just as I felt myself coming to a full-on climax, the lightning bolt shaped mark on my outer thigh began to burn. The pain of it made me bend over further, making him not only go deeper, but also made me tighten even further around him. I became a mixture of both pleasure and true pain all at once, I could barely recognize which of the two my moans reflected. Ricardo slid out of me then, and before I had a chance to feel the emptiness of his shaft no longer there, he had me turned around, lifted up with a crushing grip on my hips, and was impaling me once again. As though he felt a sense of urgency, he pistoned in and out of me even harder and faster than before, which took my mind away from the flaring pain in my thigh.
As Ricardo gave me another stroke so deep inside of me I felt his sac rubbing against my entrance I screamed out with one last climax as he jettisoned inside, the warm trickling feel of it making me come that much harder. But when I closed my eyes, I was looking into the metallic silver irises that haunted my dreams, and they looked angry as hell. I could almost hear a faint, foreign, yet familiar voice in the back of my mind saying, I will find you.
When I opened my eyes, Ricardo was staring straight into mine, but it felt like he was seeing right through me to somewhere else, especially when he said, “She’s mine.”
Before I could ask him anything or think any further, he claimed my lips in a claiming, almost punishing kiss. Then I felt a tiny pinprick on the side of my hip and promptly blacked out.
***
Halfway across the world from where Ricardo and Rena were, a warlock wearing only a pair of black shorts, knelt down on the ground in the rain in the dark of night in a cemetery, the droplets shimmered down his muscled, ebony chest and back. He summoned the lightning to the palms of his outstretched hands, letting it empower him further, as he called out to his ancestors. “Ancestors, my foremothers, and forefathers, I come to you tonight, the anniversary of the night you gifted me with one of my greatest gifts, to ask your help in finding her. Help me bring her back to where she belongs, at my side.”
The storm became malevolent then, lightning struck around Jonathan left and right, which both fueled and empowered him. He threw his head back as he soaked it all in. As he closed his eyes, his haunches rose when he finally saw her, with the vampire that had somehow ensnared his powerful, beautiful mate. He tried yet again to communicate with her through their mark, but something was blocking him still, but he felt it slipping, and that little slip was all he needed to learn her location.
Reaching into his back pocket, Jonathan pulled out his phone and dialed his brother. Without bothering with any pleasantries, all he said was, “It’s time to hunt us down a vampire, and bring home my mate.”
About the Author

When you become a Mom, you begin to put yourself last, and your combat boots begin to collect dust. Going to your child’s PTA meetings in full Gothic, especially industrial, regalia is pretty much frowned upon. Especially by your own children, and your teens would die of a heart attack. But, one should not have to completely stop being themselves, uniqueness is greatness. So all of that darkness is put into words in her books, and designs in her jewelry sold in her Etsy shop, GothicMoms DarkCharms.
A single mother of five beautiful children, but by far more than just that. T. A. Moorman is an artist, a violinist, a lab assistant, a seamstress, a crafter, a writer, a blogger, a reviewer, a dark confidant and a darkly dangerous, fiercely protective friend.
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Romantic Suspense – Sing For Me

Romantic Suspense – Sing For Me

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Tactical Solutions International, Book 1
Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Wave Equation Media
Release Date: April 7, 2020
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Jake Evans isn’t looking for love when he walks into a dive bar while on leave, just a beer and a no-strings hookup. Fiona Flynn isn’t even looking for a date. She’s got a musical career to launch and a past heartache to overcome.
When Jake sees the stunning singer on stage, he knows he wants her – maybe for more than one night. Fiona can’t deny the chemistry between them, and she can’t ignore her growing feelings for the hot sailor with the easy smile.
Their sweet, sexy, long-distance love affair comes to a screeching halt when Jake is injured overseas. Wrecked body and soul, Jake can’t imagine a different kind of life, for himself or with Fiona. But when the unthinkable happens, and Fiona’s life hangs in the balance, Jake will have to rediscover his inner warrior in order to save her.
About the Author

Maggie Clare is the pen name of award-winning speculative fiction writer, Tabitha Lord. When channeling Maggie, she writes all the sexy things! Sing for Me is the first book in her Tactical Solutions International romantic suspense series.
 
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Romantic Suspense – Deadline

Romantic Suspense – Deadline

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Book 1 Phantom Force Tactical Series
Romantic Suspense
Date Published: April 2016
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“Engaging read. Hard to put down.” — Billy Allmon, U.S. Navy SEAL (Ret)
He’s a relentless homicide detective. She’s an uncompromising journalist.
Neither desires to work together—but they’ll never uncover the truth alone.
Landing a front page headline isn’t why reporter Caitlin Sparks is investigating a string of suspicious deaths connected to the U.S. State Department. She has a personal stake in finding the killer.
Detective Blake Madison has a connection to the murders too, and will risk anything to uncover the truth. But a journalist is the last person he’d rely on to help him solve a crime—especially one whose trail of evidence leads back to him.
Joining forces becomes essential as the body count continues to grow. Someone powerful doesn’t want the truth to come out—and will stop at nothing to make sure no one talks.
On the run with nowhere to turn, the couple devises a plan to expose the killer. The risk is great and the chance of success small, but the ultimate outcome is something neither one of them envisioned.
IndieBRAG Medallion Winner
Excerpt
Blake stroked her hair. “It’s okay, baby. Just a nightmare.”
“It seemed so real.” Caitlin felt his arms tighten around her, felt the power in them, and appreciated the comforting peace they provided. She had never felt so exposed, and yet so safe and secure. She turned her head and strained to see into the darkness again. “It felt like he was really here.”
“Dreams have a way of doing that.” He rocked her for a few more minutes in his soothing embrace, and then whispered in her ear. “Better?”
Caitlin took a few more deep breaths, and then tried to draw away, embarrassed. “Yes. I’m all right.” Again, she peered over her shoulder into the darkness to see if the figure would reappear. “Sorry if I woke you.”
Blake did not release his grasp. “Don’t worry. You didn’t wake me.”
Caitlin knew it was useless to struggle so she rested her head against his chest again and tried to relax. Her mind drifted back to a time when she had been intimidated by this man. Now his mere presence was reassuring. His touch, his voice, brought security and a sense of peace.
“That’s better.” He cleared his throat, but it still sounded hoarse when he talked. “I wish you would put the past behind you.”
Caitlin’s breath caught in her throat. That’s what Vince had just told her. She pulled away and regarded Blake with a troubled look. Had Vince been trying to tell her something from the other side that was merely being echoed by Blake? Was it time to move on with her life? Was she ready for that?
She lay her head down again before answering. “I’m not sure I want to yet.”
Blake’s chest rose against her cheek as he sucked in a deep, slow breath, but he didn’t speak and his grasp was unrelenting. She savored the sensation of being held by him with her head against his heart, keenly aware of the solidness of his arms and the warmth of his skin. His embrace was powerful and tender, strong and gentle.
She allowed herself to bask briefly in the peaceful, shared moment, but then feared she was being selfish. He’s probably uncomfortable and wants to go back to bed. “I’m okay,” she murmured into his chest, trying to reassure him. “You can let me go now, Blake.” She opened her eyes when he finally answered.
“I’m not sure I want to yet.”
About the Author

Jessica James’ award-winning novels are inspired by her love of the land, her belief in everlasting love, and her curiosity about the past. Her novels run the gamut from military suspense and thrillers to historical fiction, Christian fiction, and small-town Southern women’s fiction.
She enjoys transporting readers to another world with complex characters and stories that stir deep emotion. Her novels appeal to both men and women and are featured in library collections all over the United States including Harvard and the U.S. Naval Academy. She resides in a 200-year-old house in Gettysburg, Pa.
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Romantic Suspense – When An Angel Whispers

Romantic Suspense – When An Angel Whispers

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A Chance O’Brien Novel, Book 1
Romantic Suspense
Macy Adams, a beautiful law student, is abducted and assaulted by a vicious serial killer known as the Bayou Butcher. She escapes with the help of a guardian angel and Houston Police Detective Chance O’Brien.
After fleeing her captor, she begins to build a new life, but is plunged back into his murderous grasp by circumstances beyond her control.
More women are murdered, and only Macy can help the FBI catch the Butcher before he kills again. What they don’t know is that this time he is out for revenge and is pulling Macy into his carefully planned trap.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
“Give light, and the darkness will disappear of itself.”  Desiderius Erasmus
Ba Boom! Ba Boom! Ba Boom! The noise was deafening. A drum or a clock. Yes, a tick but no tock. Not a clock. Not a drum. Louder. Hammering. Beating. Ba Boom! Ba Boom! Ba Boom!
Macy moved her head from side to side and tried to open her eyes. Where was she? What was that sound? She was in a terrible dream. The kind that you have when you want to scream and scream, but you can’t. You try to run, and your feet won’t move. It’s as if they are glued to the floor. Why couldn’t she open her eyes? Why couldn’t she see?
Macy reached to cover her ears. Her chest ached from the vibrations. Her hands refused to move. Her legs were paralyzed. She realized her eyes were already open and she gasped for air.
She could hear the pounding even louder coming from deep inside. Inside of her. Macy realized the pounding was her own heart beating inside her chest. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!”
Darkness! “Oh, my God!” She exhaled slowly. Was she blind? Or was she just trapped? Would she stay in this darkness forever? Once, when she was a teenager during a truth or dare game, somebody asked her to name her worst fear. She hadn’t told the truth then. To do so would have made it real. Make it something that could really happen. But, it did happen. This was her nightmare. The one she’d had since childhood. To be trapped, in darkness with no one. Alone. Left to go insane for all of eternity.
Macy sucked air into her lungs. It hurt to breathe. She could only manage small puffs. Tears poured down her face, and she sobbed in desperation.
Again, she pulled at her arms, but they were held down. She couldn’t move. Confused and bewildered, she cried harder. Her body shook with spasms. What had happened to her? Was she dead? She began to recite her childhood prayer.
“Macy,” a soft voice spoke to her from the darkness. A woman’s voice. “Macy, hush.” The voice caressed her. “You aren’t alone. I am here with you.”
The woman’s voice was low and raspy, and Macy strained to hear her. She spoke with an accent Macy didn’t recognize. Macy had often heard Cuban or Mexican accents since she moved from Florida to Houston, Texas, but this was different. She felt someone hold her hand and rub her arm. The woman’s touch was like silk. It soothed her, and Macy found that her tremors lessened.
“I’m dead, aren’t I? Am I in hell? No, can’t be. I don’t believe in hell. Where am I? What happened to me? What have I done to deserve this?” Macy began to sob again and found it difficult to swallow. Her throat was raw from her screams.
“No, my little one, not dead,” the voice whispered. “You are very much alive, and I will help you stay that way. But, you must listen, Malyshka, and do what I tell you. He will be back soon.”
Macy pulled her arms forward again and discovered why she couldn’t move them. Her wrists were bound above her head, and it felt like her feet were bound as well. Because of the soothing voice and calming presence of the woman, her horror eased.
“Please, oh please, untie me,” she pleaded. “I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. Am I blind?”
“No, not blind, but blindfolded. You are in a dark and evil place. I would gladly free you if I had the power, but I do not. I cannot. I can only be with you and guide you.”
The voice seemed to be moving away, getting softer, and becoming more difficult to hear.
“Oh, don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me,” Macy begged.
A whisper in her ear. A soft flutter on her skin. “I will not leave you. You are a strong woman. You will survive. I know this. I have seen it. Hush now. He is back, and you must pretend to be asleep.”
“But, who are you? Where am I?” Macy was building toward hysteria again.
“Shhh. Evil is here. Close your eyes now. Be brave,” the voice whispered as it moved away.
Macy swallowed and listened for whoever he was. She heard what sounded like a door opening and was about to scream for help when she heard a man say in a sing-song voice, “Macy, oh Macy. I’m here. I’ll bet you can’t wait to see me!”
Macy swallowed again, closed her eyes, and followed the woman’s warning. She pretended to be asleep.
 ~ ~ ~
 Martin Sabien turned and unlocked the padlock on the outside of the large steel door and swung it open into the dark garage. He flipped up the switch just inside the door, and the small, yellow light from the ceiling blinked on revealing walls that were soundproofed with two layers of drywall and fiberglass insulation. In the far corner of the garage was a white Chevy van that Martin inherited when his father died from a stroke two years earlier. He also inherited the small one-story home set on two acres on the outskirts of Splendora, a small town about thirty-five miles north of Houston. Martin had been bringing his women to the garage for the better part of a year.
He blamed most of his bad luck on women. They always got the plum positions and all the breaks. His mother took off when he was seven, and his daddy always said it was because Martin was a little pussy pecker. Just a mamby pamby like her. He didn’t know what that was, but he knew he didn’t want to be like that, so he did everything he could to make his daddy happy.
Martin stood only five-foot-seven inches with his boots on, but he worked out regularly and had plenty of muscles to impress the ladies. His scruffy whiskers and black-framed glasses made his face appear what most people would call unremarkable. Women walked right by him as if he were invisible.
Martin’s father, who worked as a guard at one of the local malls, came home every day wearing his rent-a-cop uniform and swaggered into the house. Right then, Martin decided he would one-up the old man and be a real cop. He was a fair student in high school and made good enough grades to get accepted into college. His father would never say it, but he was proud of his only son.
As soon as Martin turned twenty-one, he applied to all of the local law enforcement agencies in Houston and the surrounding counties. He was not accepted and decided it was because they were hiring women and queers, and not good, solid, educated men like himself. With no prospects for a job after he graduated with his bachelor’s degree in criminal justice, he decided to work on his master’s degree and was hired as a teaching assistant. Suddenly, the world looked different. Women that never looked his way before would smile at him because they knew he graded their work. But Martin was not a forgiving man, and he wasn’t interested in what the ladies wanted to give him. Now, he was only interested in taking.
Martin walked to the back of the garage where a large, old, rectangular wooden box sat upon a sturdy worktable, and called out again to Macy.
Suddenly Macy’s world was flooded with light. She wanted to open her eyes wide to prove that she could still see, but she remembered the words, “Pretend to be asleep.” She tried to breathe evenly and not flinch when she felt a hand engulf her neck and then travel down her breasts and come to rest between her legs. It was only then she realized she was completely naked. His other hand grabbed her breast and pinched the nipple until Macy thought she would cry out.
“You’re good. Let me tell you.” He ripped off her blindfold. “All my other girls started begging and crying as soon as I opened the lid. You stay in there long enough; you’ll do just about anything I want. Huh, Macy?”
When she didn’t respond, he brought the flat of his hand down quickly and slapped her hard on her left cheek, forcing her head to nod and her eyes to pop open. Tears of pain swam in her blue eyes.
“There now. I didn’t think you were still out. I didn’t give you enough to last long. Won’t do any good to pretend. I know all your tricks.”
Macy licked her parched lips and said, “Who are you? What do you want with …”
Martin brought his hand down harder. This time the force of the blow across her face caused Macy to bite her tongue. Blood trickled from between her lips. She could taste it, salty and metallic.
“You don’t talk. Not unless I tell you to talk. Do you hear me? I am the one in charge here, not you, Macy.” He said her name drawing out the last syllable as he reached down and smeared the blood over her chest.
Macy’s tears were flowing freely now, and she could no longer contain herself. She began to sob uncontrollably.
“Not so strong now, are you?” He reached into the box and freed her hands and feet that were tied to the pine box. For a small man, he was exceptionally strong. He easily lifted Macy’s five-foot-eight-inch frame from her prison and roughly deposited her feet first on the concrete floor. She teetered unevenly and almost fell until he pulled her up and steadied her with his hand around her neck again. Her hands and feet were still bound together, and the ropes cutting into her skin were blood-soaked from her unsuccessful attempts to free herself. Macy tried to look around to see where she was, but he pulled his hand back to slap her again, and she flinched.
“Got ya, huh? Never know when it’s coming. You know, I usually wear a mask and don’t let the girls see me. But you, you’re special. I picked you out a long time ago. Gonna have a really good time for a long time with you, sweetheart.”
Macy looked at the man standing in front of her and tried to recall who he was. Something was familiar about him, but she couldn’t place him. He wasn’t ugly. He was just nondescript. If someone asked her to identify him, she would say he had dark hair and dark, soulless eyes. He was young. Maybe her age, and she had just turned twenty-four in January. She doubted she would see twenty-five.
He dragged her across the floor toward what looked like a daybed with a brass frame across the back and sides. She choked back a laugh. A cherry red quilt with matching pillows covered the bed. He was quite the homemaker.
“Something funny?” he asked as he dragged her across the room and threw her face down on the cover.
He pulled her arms up above her head and tied them to the frame, loosened her feet, and tied them separately to each side of the foot of the bed. She could smell sweat and his unwashed body. Panting and sweating now, he discarded his clothes haphazardly on the floor and climbed on top of her.
“No, no. Please. Please don’t do this to me.” Her whimpering, begging sounds quickly turned into piercing screams.
 ~ ~ ~
 She lay crumpled on the bed for what seemed like hours, and when he finally loosened her arms and legs from the bed frame, she sat up and vomited all over the floor, barely missing his naked legs. He yanked her hair so hard she thought he would pull it out and slapped her twice more in the face. Blood poured out of her broken nose.
When he returned her to the box, it was a relief. Although she was still terrified of being left alone in the dark, she was exhausted and hurt. Her face burned where he hit her, and she could feel her swollen lips when she licked them with her tongue. She was thirsty and would have been hungry if she wasn’t so sick at her stomach.
Martin leaned down inches from her face and spoke, “Night night. Well, not the whole night. I have some things to do, but I’ll be back.” Although Macy’s mouth was dry, she managed to produce enough saliva to spit in his eyes.
“Bitch,” he yelled and punched her hard in her stomach. The air left her lungs, and she struggled to breathe. He punched her again and then slammed the lid down and hammered it into place.
She slowly sucked air into her lungs between clenched teeth and listened. Finally, she heard the door open and then close.
She was alone.  

 

About the Authors

Charlene Tess and Judi Thompson are sisters who live over 1400 miles apart. They combined their two last names into the pen name Tess Thompson and have been writing novels together since 2002.

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