Nurse practitioner, Dana Kerrigan, finds her steady and comfortably predictable life suddenly turned upside down as the result of a family emergency. With no choice but to take a leave from work, she has to hustle to keep Silence’s favorite pub running and her parents looked after.When heartbreak brings with it an unexpected opportunity to realize a long-held dream, it presents a new set of problems.One that involves murder, and the man sent to investigate.
As a recent transplant to Silence, sheriff’s detective, Rick Althof, was aiming for less stress and more solitude. Instead, he finds himself frequently drawn to The Kerrigan, a popular pub in town, to enjoy a meal, a beer, and—if lucky—a friendly chat with the owner’s pretty daughter.Still bearing the invisible scars of past mistakes, he’s determined to keep things friendly, despite a growing attraction.However, his resolve is put to the test when she lands in the middle of an elaborate development scheme involving bribery, blackmail, and even murder.
USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
With forty-plus books already published, she continues to create characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy.
Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We've Read All Year Award for "Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, and Finalist for the 2020 Kindle Book Award with “When Hope Ends”, Freya spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
No
one believes that under the tough attitude and schoolgirl fashion
sense, reformed demon Zoe burns for a man, love and sex. She keeps
those urges on ice and well hidden. She sold her soul for a guy once,
and all it got her was a one-way ticket to Hell.
Her
job, keeping supernatural creatures in line at From Crud to Stud, is
all work and no play. Until she’s saddled with a trio of new
enforcers who ooze so much sexual heat she’s afraid to be on the
same planet with them.
Stefin,
Anatol, and Taro try to contain their laughter as their adorable new
boss tries to lay down the law. Apparently, no one told her they
don’t take orders. They give them. And they’re determined to
smooth her rough edges and tame her beast with acts so wanton they’ll
make her scream—for more.
Talk
about all hell breaking loose. Surrender won’t come easily, but
given their devilish charm and her aching need, her journey to
submission is one done deal.
Warning:
Contains
an unholy trio of demons who don’t like to take turns. Break
room…snacking. After-hours…training sessions. In other words, a
sensual ride on the pleasure express. Features m/f/m/m sex in every
flavor except vanilla. Bring. It. On.
PRAISE FOR MASTERING THE BEAST
4.5 Stars
"These strong compelling characters seduce readers with their hot and sexy story while anticipation of Zoe's surrender builds throughout the well written, fast paced and smooth flowing plot."
Literary Addicts
_____
4.5 Stars
"Oh man! What a hot little number this is. Mastering the Beast is book three in the Taming the Beast series by Tina Donahue. This is Zoe's story and it's hot, hot, hot! "
The Jeep Diva
_____
4 Stars
"I have been really enjoying this series - and would recommend that you read them in order to fully appreciate the crazy! There is so much fun, madness, friendship and erotic action in these books that they are a breath of fresh (occasionally sulphurous) air. Thank you Ms. Donahue for another hit!"
The erotic romance when they leave the office will having you sighing. But will Zoe agree
the right guy just might be worth it? Has she finally found lasting love and if so with whom?
2 thumbs up for an funny erotic love story that will keep you turning the pages til the very
last one. I Highly Recommend the series.
- Barbara Barber, Amazon
TEASERS
Excerpt:
Footfalls
rang in the hall.
Three
guys strode into Becca’s office, their movements fluid and assured.
Each looked thirty or so, in mortal years, and had dressed in black,
their shirts silk, their boots and pants elegant, like bouncers wear
at an elite club.
No
one was dancing in here, especially Zoe.
A
faint sulfur scent emanated from the unholy trio. Flames flared
briefly in their eyes.
Demons.
The trouble she’d sensed earlier.
She
froze, too stunned to move or speak.
The
guy in the middle was easily six-three and nicely muscular, his blond
hair shoulder-length. His rough good looks, bronze complexion and
stubble put the va-va-voom in virile. Sin filled his light gray eyes,
his mood dangerous and predatory.
Her
belly fluttered.
He
winked.
Disquiet
and lust rolled through Zoe. Her legs went watery.
The
guy on the right proved equally tall and powerfully built. Beautiful,
he had rich-chocolate skin, dark eyes and long hair worn in
dreadlocks.
Those
babies would feel awesome gliding across her naked boobs and
thighs—until he screwed her over like every other male had done.
She
steeled herself against his allure.
He
smiled.
A
freaking dimple dented his right cheek, his grin an unusual
combination of boyish mischief and raw sensuality.
Her
pussy creamed.
Hot
didn’t begin to describe the last guy’s masculine features,
deep-blue eyes and thick auburn hair. Those wavy locks trailed past
his ears and curled on his neck. His stubble called to everything
female within Zoe, as did his height, big body and the assured way he
regarded her.
The
guys’ enticing sulfur odor enhanced their musky scents, making the
mixture wanton and unashamed. Their impressive cocks pushed against
their flies.
She
bet each of their rods jutted from blond, black or auburn curls.
The
room spun.
“Guys.”
Becca lifted her reddish eyebrows. “This is Zoe.”
The
introduction seemed to come from far away, Becca’s voice muted by
the ringing in Zoe’s ears. She tried to respond but only managed an
odd noise, part grunt, mostly a groan.
Becca
edged closer. “Zoe, this is Anatol.” She gestured to the black
hunk with the dimple. “Stefin.” The blond god in the middle
winked again. “And Taro.” The blue-eyed hottie regarded her
intensely. “They’re our new enforcers.”
Each
looked in charge already, their stances saying they wouldn’t budge
one damn inch for anyone, especially a female demon.
Becca
offered a nervous smile. “You’ll be working with them from now
on.”
Working
with or for, as in taking orders, yearning helplessly then losing out
as she had with the last man in her life?
Molly groaned and rolled over to check the red numbers on her bedside clock. She wanted to jump back into the dream she’d been having before the voice rudely awakened her. In that dream, her thoughts lingered on her neighbor, Duncan, the one with the scar etched across his ear. Something in the scene comforted her; she wished to slip back into that warm haze and forget all the chaos that surrounded her.
“It’s five am, Zane. I’m not making you breakfast this early.” Her older brother, Zane, tended to work odd hours as a firefighter, but Molly spent three days climbing out of the grip of the flu going around the high school where she taught theater. She had no desire to indulge her brother’s cravings.
“Molly Gravenhurst. Please wake up. We need to talk,” the new voice pleaded.
The voice of her grandmother, Dawn, reached her foggy brain. Her dead grandmother.
Molly jerked up in bed and focused on the two ghosts that stood at the end. The appearance of her grandmother didn’t surprise her. What her grandmother called her “second sight” made her capable of communication with earthbound spirits. Genuine shock and abject horror slammed into her when she saw her brother, Zane. The night before, he’d been alive and kicking.
“No,” Molly whispered in utter terror. A simple, horrifying truth struck her. If her brother were a ghost, then he was dead.
Molly could see ghosts, a gift she possessed since toddlerhood. Three years ago, when her grandmother died, she and Zane inherited her house and the care of their grandmother’s ghost. While he lived, Grandma Dawn’s ghost remained invisible to Zane. Now, a ghost himself, he could finally see her.
“I know this is a shock, Molly, but Zane needs you to pull yourself together.” Grandma Dawn’s tone snapped Molly out of her silence.
“Wha-wha-what happened, Zane?” Molly fisted her blanket while she tried to gather herself.
“Jillian dropped me off at Paddy’s. He wanted to continue the Halloween party back at his house. After Paddy and I walked into the garage, everything is blank. I appeared in the kitchen here, where I found Grandma.” Zane spoke with clinical precision, not an ounce of emotion. She understood the pain of death since she dealt with the pain ghosts experienced every day.
“Where’s Jillian?” Molly grabbed her cell phone from her bedside table. “I need to call her.”
“She’s asleep on the sofa.” Zane’s voice cracked at the end of his statement. “I just peeked for a second. I can’t go …I don’t …”
Grandma Dawn took Zane’s hand in hers in a gesture of comfort and compassion.
Molly struggled with what to do next. She’d barely adjusted to her grandmother’s death. How could she live without her brother’s hugs, his teasing slaps, or witnessing his love and devotion for Jillian?
“What do I need to do?” Grandma Dawn died in her sleep. She found her in the primary bedroom of the very house she lived in. Where was Zane’s body? If it were at Paddy’s house, Paddy would have called her by now? He was Zane’s best friend. He’d had her number since the day she got it thirteen years ago.
Before Zane or Grandma Dawn had a chance to answer, Jillian burst into Molly’s attic space.
“You’re awake. Thank God.” She burst into the room and threw herself onto Molly’s bed, her blonde hair pulled back into a crooked ponytail. “Zane hasn’t come home yet. It’s still pouring outside. Visibility is shit. What if he got in an accident? What if he and Paddy are in a ditch? What if he tried to walk home and got hit by a car? I’ve called him five times and texted him six times. He hasn’t responded.”
Jillian’s frantic questions made sense, but she couldn’t confirm anything because she didn’t know whether any of those possibilities were correct. Neither did either of the ghosts.
“Let’s think.” Molly pushed away the knowledge of her brother’s death and gathered her thoughts. “You all went to that big Halloween party downtown, right?”
“Yeah. Paddy invited a bunch of us over to his house, but I told Zane I needed sleep. My sinuses have been getting worse. I think I caught whatever you have.” Congestion clogged Jillian’s voice, and tears or illness left her eyes red and bloodshot. Molly’s heart sank. The same symptoms had stalked her for the past several days.
“You dropped him off at Paddy and Lucky’s house, then?”
Jillian nodded. “It started to rain a few minutes before I got here. Now it’s pouring.”
“Let’s call Paddy first. Who else came to the party?” Molly scrolled through her numbers in her contacts to find Paddy’s number.
“Barb Sterling and her husband, Rhett.” Jillian dialed the number on speaker. “Then Marty and Ellen Culver. Maybe Grant Hannah. I think Paddy’s little brothers and a bunch of their friends were in town and staying with him for a while.” Voicemail answered after five rings. “It’s Jillian and Molly. Zane isn’t home. Is he with you, or do you have any idea where he went? Call me.”
“I’ve got Barb’s number.” Molly dialed and placed it on speaker.
“Molly?” Barb answered with a yawn. “What’s going on? It’s the butt crack of dawn.”
“Zane never came home from Paddy’s last night. Did he stay over? We can’t contact Zane or Paddy.”
“Wait a minute.” The sound of sheets and blankets shifting came through the speaker. “Jillian’s car pulled up outside Paddy’s house, but neither of them came in. I tried calling and texting Zane after her car left, but I never got an answer. We left here around two.”
“We need to look for him. I dropped him off and came back to his house,” Jillian’s voice carried extreme anxiety, burgeoning into mania.
“Jillian?” Barb yawned again on her end.
“What’s going on?” Molly heard a sleepy Rhett ask on the other end of the line.
“Jillian said she dropped Zane off at Paddy’s. I never saw him, did you?” Barb asked her husband.
“No. I thought it was weird you said you saw Jillian’s car, but they didn’t come in. But I started singing karaoke with Marty and lost track of everything.” Molly imagined the sound of strangled cats coming from Marty. None of Zane’s friends had a lick of musical or theatrical talent as she did.
Every wasted second ratcheted up Molly’s anxiety. They were no closer to answers. She looked to Zane for any suggestions while Jillian threw out scenarios left and right. Zane shrugged as he watched his girlfriend torment herself with grim what-ifs.
Barb decided she would come pick up Jillian, and they would search around town. Molly agreed to stay home in case Zane made his way back.
Molly knew for an absolute fact that November 1st would be the worst day of her life.
Author Bio:
Lindsey Gray is a writer, an over-thinker, and a chronic list-maker, but her passion for writing stories you'll love always tops the list. Her author journey began in 2010 with the publication of her first novel, and she has spent the last decade creating worlds for readers to play in. In addition to her own work, Gray uses her skills in novel formatting for other authors and hosts the weekly show Gray Matters on TMV Cafe Internet Radio. She lives and writes fueled by iced tea, her handsome hubby, and the beautiful chaos of mothering her children.
GG Calpo is here to tell us about Hook, Line, and Murder, The Sweet TOOTH Murder Mystery, a cozy mystery.
There's also a great giveaway.
_______________________
Hook, Line, and Murder
GG Calpo
(The Sweet TOOTH Murder Mystery)
Published by: The Wild Rose Press
Publication date: February 9th 2026
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery, Mystery
What does Meg, a retired kindergarten teacher, do when the killer of her husband and only child still walks free a year after dirt had covered their graves? Go rogue, of course!
The day was beautiful, with clear skies and a mild snap in the air. It was cold yet warm with the right amount of heat from the sun, making it the perfect spring day. Motorboats and sailboats dipped in and out of the water, out by Poet’s Bay. And at the edge of the harbor were the fishermen, alone or in groups of two or three, a rod in their hands and their tackle boxes opened beside them. We rounded the corner, almost done with our walk, when we saw mothers dragging their children away and fathers covering the eyes of the children in their arms. Pushing against the stream of parents scrambling away were others whose eyes were fixed on the man by the harbor’s edge. A man on whose fishing line dangled a catch with, what I thought were, red fins and a red tail swaying lazily around the hook.
Red? In the salt waters of Poet’s Bay? As I stood there trying to figure out what I was seeing, Barbara shoved her way into the crowd. I followed, my curiosity getting the better of me. Murmurs of “Good morning” and “Good to see you, Mrs. B” trailed behind me, changing to “You sure you want to see this, Mrs. B?” and “I wouldn’t go any further if I were you, Mrs. B.” We fetched up to the front and looked down on the ground before us while the fisherman beside us puked his guts out.
It wasn’t a fish he had caught.
Instead, on the ground was a hand. Just a hand. Nothing else.
Author Bio:
GG Calpo is a retired lawyer and accountant who traded contracts and numbers for the far more enjoyable chaos of fictional crime. Now she writes cozy whodunits featuring warm-hearted golden-aged sleuths who’ve seen it all, heard it all and will investigate a murder with zero hesitation. She loves stories where the stakes are personal, family and friendships are paramount, with characters who refuse to follow the outline and endings that pull the rug out. When not plotting twisty crimes—on paper only, of course—she spends her time reading, crocheting blankets and sweaters for her five grandchildren, watching mystery TV shows and taking long walks in her neighborhood. She lives in Central New Jersey with her husband and two corgis, Whiskey and Nugget.
It was supposed to be the ultimate escape. A curated guest list. A luxury yacht. A week on the crystal-clear Adriatic, far from everyone’s real lives.
Except no one is there for the view. Careers, contracts, and futures are all quietly in play.
Antonia and Ted have built a global brand on their perfect marriage, which would be more convincing if they could still stand each other. Mercy has spent years smoothing over the worst instincts of her powerful husband, convinced the man she fell in love with is still there. Winslow is hiding a secret that could end his career, while his husband, Miguel, is carrying news that will change everything between them.
And then there’s Charlotte—the assistant everyone overlooks. Which gives her an excellent view of everything.
The first night, the drinks flow, the gossip gets vicious, and everyone shares far more than they should. But what’s a little indiscretion among new friends?
The trouble with a yacht is that there’s nowhere to go once you’ve said too much. No separate hotels. No quick exits. Just the same people, fewer places to hide, and another breakfast together in the morning.
By the third day, one marriage is as good as over. One guest is desperate enough to do something irreversible. And Mercy is realizing the man she loved was all for show—and the man she fears is who he really is.
Before any of them set foot on solid ground again, one of them will be dead in the water.
Privilege has protected them from consequences for years. But desperation can make even very comfortable people do terrible things.
The Awful Truth is a sharp, warm, wickedly funny domestic suspense novel about marriage, power, and the spectacularly bad decisions people make when they have everything to lose. For readers who love the wit and heart of Liane Moriarty and Sally Hepworth, with the glamor and menace of The White Lotus.
Heat Level: Open door, spicy not explicit
Tone: A fast-paced, suspenseful, emotional, character-driven drama
Series Type: Standalone, part of a collection of domestic suspense novels
Ending: Emotionally satisfying, book club / upmarket resolution
Charlotte sat back, tuning out the conversation while she stared out at the hills and smattering of buildings along the highway. So far, the city wasn’t much to look at. A lot of low brush and an irritating bank alongside the road that only allowed the briefest glimpse of the water. But soon, she’d be surrounded on all sides by the clear blue Adriatic Sea, and she felt a surge of excitement. It was her first time in Europe. As a teenager, she always thought she’d go right out of high school—backpacking and staying in hostels for a few months, really living, as her mother, who’d never gone farther than Niagara Falls from their home in Muskegon, would say. But in the end, Charlotte met a boy and decided he was more exciting than Italy and France and England combined. Only he wasn’t. He was a huge disappointment, and by the time she realized it, it was already move-in week at the University of Michigan.
So here she was, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, getting her first taste of the ‘old world.’ This wasn’t how she imagined it (few things were)—sandwiched between her lover and her lover’s wife in the back of a limo—but this was how she had arrived. Charlotte was sleepy and mixed up and felt guilty as all hell, but she was here. She had made it. She’d take as many glamorous pics as she could to post on her Instagram account. Her friends would be filled with envy which they would mask with comments like, ‘Looking hot, mama!’ and ‘You deserve it. You work so hard. Have an amazing time, girlie!’
But she wouldn’t be having an amazing time, would she? She’d likely be working long hours—maybe even through the night—to liaise between the studio and her bosses, not to mention having a front row seat to the ‘Ted and Antonia pretending to be blissfully happy’ show, which she’d much rather skip. She knew it was all bullshit, at least on Ted’s part. An act meant to keep the multi-million-dollar ruse going. It was bad enough when they were on set and she had to watch them gaze into each other’s eyes and act like they were still in the playful honeymoon phase. Ted had warned her that they’d have to lay it on extra thick around Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, but not to let it get to her. Because he only wanted her.
None of that was stuff she could share on Instagram, or tell her friends, for that matter. She’d keep her secret and smile, like she always did. But at least she could pretend she was having a wonderful time.
Author Bio:
Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.
Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.
In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally - then she'll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for 'K' Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn't require makeup and/or nylons).
Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she's not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken 'from above'. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something--more like just staying until they turn the lights off.
She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.
