Ashley E. Sweeney is here to tell us about Eliza Waite, historical fiction.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Historical Fiction
Date Published: 05-16-2016
Publisher: She Writes
Press
Celebrating the 10th Anniversary
After the tragic death of her husband and son on a remote island in
Washington’s San Juan Islands, Eliza Waite joins the throng of miners,
fortune hunters, business owners, con men, and prostitutes traveling north to
the Klondike in the spring of 1898. When Eliza arrives in Skagway, Alaska, she
has less than fifty dollars to her name and not a friend in the
world—but with some savvy, and with the help of some unsavory
characters, Eliza opens a successful bakery on Skagway’s main street and
befriends a madam at a neighboring bordello. Occupying this space—a
place somewhere between traditional and nontraditional feminine
roles—Eliza awakens emotionally and sexually. But when an unprincipled
man from her past turns up in Skagway, Eliza is fearful that she will be
unable to conceal her identity and move forward with her new life. Using Gold
Rush history, diary entries, and authentic pioneer recipes, Eliza Waite
transports readers to the sights sounds, smells, and tastes of a raucous and
fleeting era of American history.
Excerpt
September 1, 1896
Cloudy, first fall chill. Deer in garden again. Need to
mend fences.
“Good fences make good neighbors,”
her aunt used to say.
Eliza examines her muddied property and stifles a
snort. There are no neighbors, no cheery hellos or help at harvest time, no
shared secrets or meals offered at the door when grief steals joy clean away.
No, her neighbors are all gone from this windswept island plagued with
relentless autumn rains that close in on the coming darkness.
Eliza
removes her nightclothes and rushes into her undergarments, woolen skirt,
muslin blouse, and thick socks. She gathers up her skirt, and pushes out
through the cabin’s rickety door, inhaling wood smoke and counting her
memories, both blessings and curses.
I do not know if I can endure
another winter here, especially after what happened last year.
Before the
epidemic there had been a store, and a post office, and a cannery, and a
school. And—of course—a church. On those long ago Sundays, Eliza
had squirmed each time Jacob mounted the stairs to the simple wooden pulpit at
First Methodist on tiny Cypress Island, his pompousness preceding him. Eliza
sat stiffly in the front pew with Jonathan close beside her. Jonathan’s
delicate hands held hers and his small brown leather boots dangled over the
front lip of the wooden bench. If she tries hard enough, Eliza can still hear
Jonathan’s warbling voice stumbling over the words of the ancient
hymns.
After Sunday services, Eliza and Ida
Lawson had poured weak coffee into china cups at opposite ends of the
cloth-covered table in the basement of the church. They adjusted the china
cups, filling in spaces when others were served. They checked the sugar bowls.
They rearranged the teaspoons, and placed them symmetrically. They exchanged
glances and shared private conversations in between parishioners.
Did you
hear the foreman killed a Chinaman over at Atlas Cannery?
Another
parishioner would interrupt. Pleasantries. Then another interruption. More
pleasantries.
Did you see Sly Chapman walking Adelaide Winters home from
school on Wednesday?
There was always scuttlebutt about the townsfolk, or
the trappers, or the fishermen, or the loggers. And always about the Chinamen.
In the kitchen, Eliza and Ida would mimic the Chinamen, taking small steps and
bowing to each other. They stifled their laughter. Only once had they had an
awkward and guarded conversation about the intimacies of marriage.
IDA’S
COFFEE CAKE
This is one of the best of plain cakes, and is very easily
made.
Take one teacup of strong coffee infusion, one teacup molasses, one
teacup sugar, one-half teacup butter, one egg, and one teaspoonful saleratus.
Add pinch of salt.
Add spice and raisins to suit the taste, and enough
flour to make a reasonably thick batter.
Bake rather slowly in tin pans
lined with buttered paper. Tops with cinnamon sugar and serve warm.
But
those days are long past. Now all Eliza has is a heap of gravestones to
visit.
About the Author
Multi award-winning author Ashley E. Sweeney’s fourth novel, The Irish
Girl, released December 2024. Her previous novels, Eliza Waite, Answer Creek,
and Hardland, have won a total of 20 awards, including the Nancy Pearl Book
Award, Independent Press Award, WILLA Literary Award, and New Mexico-Arizona
Book Award. Sweeney, a native New Yorker and graduate of Wheaton College in
Norton, Massachusetts, spends winters in Tucson and summers in the Pacific
Northwest.
Alina Jacobs is here to tell us about Mr. Emotionally Unstable: A romantic comedy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Mr. Emotionally Unstable: A Romantic Comedy
Alina Jacobs
Publication date: May 5th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Someone is breaking into my house… and cleaning my kitchen.
At first, I think I’ve lost my mind. Then I decide it’s kinda nice—until the death threats start.
But worrying about stalkers is for people with disposable time.
Which I do not have, thanks to my entire family showing up unannounced to move in with me.
Yay! Surprise houseguests!
As a mature adult woman in her thirties, my stalker is the closest thing to a relationship I’ve had in years. No one’s lining up for a curvy woman with a bad attitude, bras with holes in them, and zero tolerance for man-children.
And no, Mom, I don’t need you giving my number to every creepy guy you meet at the grocery store.
I’m perfectly happy being single. I have my café, my neurotic overweight border collie, and the shadowy figure peering into my window. I don’t need a man.
Except… I do need to find my newly single little sister a boyfriend-slash-meal-ticket so she (and the rest of my houseguests) will move out.
I’d toss her to my mystery stalker, but he did my laundry, and I’m not ready to give up on those perks yet. Besides, I’ve already got the perfect man for her: billionaire, hot, and way out of my league.
Better yet, I no longer have a crush on him, at least not since Fitzgerald Svensson served me eviction papers with a side of insults disguised as flirting.
Now he keeps showing up at my sister’s dates.
Yes, it’s a group activity. We’re recreating our toxic childhood dynamics here, m’kay?
Which means he must be interested… right?
Only problem—he’s hanging around me instead of her.
But it’s an even bigger problem when I wake up one night pinned by a six-foot-five male with his hand over my mouth, his knee spreading my legs, whispering in my ear, “Surprise, Creampuff.”
This is a standalone romantic comedy with a food delivery addicted dog, a hilarious Granny and a heroine of a certain age who has lowered her standards. HEA guaranteed!
I follow their horrified gaze. “Creampuff,” I say, voice low, jaw locked so tight it might crack, “you sicced your granny on me? And here I thought you liked me.”
I’m not flirting.
I’m furious.
Because my lobby—my tower—is full of topless senior citizens with knitting needles, terrifying half my hotel clients. I take pride in my hotels. French antiques sourced myself, bespoke carpeting, and my hand-selected marble foyer backdrop a dozen bare breasts swaying like revolutionary flags.
“I’ve cast three hundred stitches of rage!” her grandmother roars, holding up a half-finished scarf like a battle banner.
“Get rid of them,” I snarl at her.
Winnie takes a nervous step back, eyes wide.
Good—she should be nervous.
“You stole my café,” she fires at me.
“And you threw coffee on me.” My voice is cold. Sharp. “Get these women out of my tower. Now.”
She hesitates. Like she’s considering taking their side.
Of course she is.
“Maybe they have a point,” she mutters.
I stare at her.
“Are you going to whip your shirt off and join them?” I snap.
Her face goes strawberry-jam red as my eyes drag—slowly—from her chest back to her mouth.
Her breath catches.
I feel it.
I ignore it.
“I wouldn’t. This is—we’re in public.”
I give her a sharp smile. “Do that,” I offer, “and I might let the protest continue.”
She swallows hard.
I step up to her, crowding her with my height. Sure, flirting’s fun, but this is business.
Her eyelashes flutter.
“And here I thought,” I say, “I was one of your biggest clients.”
Her face blanches. Sure, the fresh-pastry budget is an insignificant line item to me, but to her small business? It’s a lifeline.
She looks like she wants to die.
Good. Let her feel the pressure. She’s not the only one who can be cornered. If she loses this hospitality contract, she’s finished. We both know it.
But only I know that I won’t rip up the contract.
Set her free?
Never. She belongs to me. Wholly.
She just doesn’t realize it yet.
I follow her as she rushes toward her grandmother, my hands jammed in my pockets, in full control as I slowly trail her.
Over by the fireplace, two elderly women string up a knitted banner.
KNOTS NOT HOTELS!
“You need to grow a pair,” her granny is shouting at her. “You can’t let a man treat you like shit and still expect to hit that.”
My eyebrow lifts.
Winnie glances back at me. “He’s not hitting anything.”
“If you don’t get these half-naked elderly women out of my tower, I might.”
“Gran…” Winnie begs.
Her granny steps into my space, hands up for a fistfight.
“You’re a bully.”
“Booo!”
“Bread, not beds!”
“Crochet, don’t pay!”
The topless women encircle us.
I squeeze my eyes shut. If they’re not Winnie’s, I don’t want to see them.
“He acts like he’s never seen tits before,” Granny Frances huffs. “Maybe you should fuck the neighbor’s son, Winn.”
My eyes snap open. Straight to Winnie.
Heat. Anger. Something darker. “Is that why you refused to go on a date with me, Creampuff?”
Her chin lifts. “No. I refused because I hate you.”
I exhale, steady, even. Then I reach up and undo my tie. Watch her eyes bug out as she realizes what I’m doing.
“NO CROISSANTS, NO PEACE!”
I twist off my dress shirt. It’s not lost on me that her gaze slides down my face to my collarbone, down my chest, down…
The chanting starts to trail off.
“Are we sure he needs to be protested?”
Author Bio:
I write the kind of books I love—romantic comedies featuring snarly guys with hearts of gold, kick-ass heroines, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after! Also wine. And cupcakes.
When I’m not writing I can be found drinking tea, surrounded by my massive to-be-read pile! So many books...
You can connect with me on social media or find information on my books at my website.
Sign up for my newsletter so that you can get information about new releases, giveaways, and more!
Kasie Haley is here to tell us about Burning for You, a contemporary romance.
Read on for details...
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Burning For You
Kasie Haley
Publication date: July 24th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Lainey Wells hasn’t returned home to Tennessee in ten years. When her Grandpa passes away, she’s the only one left to help take care of her Grandma and keep her safe. Returning to a town where everyone hates her and calls her a murderer is her worst nightmare, and she doesn’t plan to stay. Not unless someone from her past can convince her.
Casey Richards isn’t afraid of anything. He’s not afraid of fighting in wars overseas, and certainly not running into burning buildings. Firefighting is his biggest passion in life, except for one other thing. Lainey Wells, the girl he has loved since they were kids. Ten years have passed since they’ve seen each other and when she suddenly returns, it’s his chance to convince her to stay.
Happiness has not come easily for either of them. Will he ever be able to make her stop blaming herself for what happened in their past? Lainey knows that staying could be dangerous, but Casey is ready to go to war for her.
Will they get their second chance, or will they burn out?
Author Bio:
Hi! I'm Kasie. I'm 28 and from Saint Louis, Missouri. My home is full of lots of laughter with 5 kiddos, 2 dogs and 2 cats. Plus some animals with scales. I love writing to release stress and have fun! I hope you love my books!
Patrick Simiglai is here to tell us about Fueled by Pain, his nonfiction memoir about self-esteem.
Read on for details...
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Nonfiction / Self-Esteem / Memoir
Date Published: January 15, 2026
Publisher: MindStir Media
What if your pain wasn’t holding you back… but pushing you
forward?
From abuse and neglect to crime, addiction, prison, and crushing
debt—Patrick Simiglai’s story is not just about survival.
It’s about transformation.
In Fueled By Pain, ultra-endurance athlete and mental performance coach
Patrick Simiglai shares how he rebuilt his life from the ground up using
discipline, resilience, and 23 powerful mental techniques designed to help you
do the same.
This is not a motivational quick fix.
This is a blueprint for real, lasting change.
Inspired by elite forces like the Danish Frogman Corps, Patrick pushed himself
through extreme physical challenges—ultramarathons, rope climbs, and
marathon swims—discovering that the real battle isn’t in the
body… it’s in the mind.
Inside this powerful book, you’ll discover how to:
• Master your inner dialogue and stop self-sabotage
• Build discipline that lasts beyond motivation
• Develop unshakable mental resilience under pressure
• Break free from addiction, fear, and limiting beliefs
• Turn pain, discomfort, and resistance into your greatest advantage
• Create long-term success through integrity and self-trust
Patrick’s journey—from chaos to clarity—proves that no
matter where you start, you can rebuild your life. Today, he is a successful
entrepreneur, endurance athlete, and mentor helping others unlock their
potential and take control of their lives.
His message is simple—but powerful:
You don’t need a new life. You need a new relationship with yourself.
Pain, resistance, and discomfort are not signs that you’re on the wrong
path. Often, they are proof that you’re walking in the direction of
growth. You don’t have to feel ready. You just have to show up honestly
and keep your word to yourself—especially on the days when no one is
watching.
About the Author
Patrick Simiglai is a Danish ultra-endurance athlete, mental performance
coach, and speaker dedicated to helping individuals transform their lives
through discipline, resilience, and powerful inner dialogue. As the author of
Fueled By Pain, Patrick shares a raw and deeply personal journey of overcoming
adversity and building mental strength from the inside out.
Competing in some of the world’s most grueling ultra-endurance
races—including 200- and 300-mile events across deserts, mountains, and
extreme terrain—Patrick has developed a unique approach to mental
toughness rooted in real-world experience. His work bridges the gap between
extreme physical performance and everyday personal growth, offering practical
tools for leaders, athletes, and teams to perform under pressure with
integrity and consistency.
Patrick’s path to success was anything but conventional. Growing up in a
childhood marked by abuse and later struggling with drug and alcohol
addiction, he understands firsthand the challenges of feeling trapped by your
own thoughts. His transformation—from chaos and self-destruction to
purpose-driven achievement—forms the foundation of his coaching,
speaking, and writing.
Through his work, Patrick emphasizes that true growth begins with mastering
your inner dialogue. His philosophy is simple yet powerful: you don’t
need a new life—you need a new relationship with yourself. By embracing
discomfort, taking responsibility, and committing to disciplined action, he
teaches others how to unlock their full potential and create lasting change.
Originally written in Danish and later rewritten in English as a personal
challenge, Fueled By Pain reflects Patrick’s belief that growth comes
from stepping outside your comfort zone and committing to the process, even
when it’s difficult. Drawing from years of journaling, coaching, and
extreme endurance experiences, the book delivers 23 mental techniques designed
to help readers build resilience, overcome self-doubt, and achieve long-term
success.
Today, Patrick Simiglai works with individuals and organizations worldwide,
inspiring others to confront their limits, strengthen their mindset, and turn
pain into purpose.
Rex Symone is here to tell us about Good Men Say Please, erotica, romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Good Men Say Please
Rex Symone
Publication date: May 2nd 2026
Genres: Erotica, Romance
He’s a preacher’s son with everything to lose… and a temptress he can’t resist.
Donovan “Donny” Rafte has a problem.
At twenty-something and painfully inexperienced, he can’t get out of his own head long enough to lose his virginity. Being the son of his town’s beloved pastor doesn’t help. Every expectation, every judgment, every rule is stitched into his skin.
Then he meets Eve.
She’s bold. Confident. Unapologetically sensual.
Everything the women in his small, suffocating town are not.
And she has her eyes set on him.
What starts as curiosity quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Lines blur. Boundaries crack. And Donny finds himself standing on the edge of a choice that could shatter everything he’s ever known.
Megan Slayer is here to tell us about Taken by the Alien, Taken book 13, a paranormal women's fiction novel.
Read on for details...
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(Taken, Book 13)
A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novel
Date Published: May 8, 2026
Publisher: Changeling Press
She’s got magic she’s never tapped into. He’s from
another galaxy. Together, they’re just right.
Lindsey Knepper-Lare just wants to belong. As far back as she can remember,
she’s felt different. She’s convinced she’ll always been
damaged goods. Then she’s abducted by an alien and spirited to a planet
with a name she can’t even pronounce. Then Ronan walks into her life.
He’s everything she wants, but has never had the courage to go after.
Too bad he’ll never pay her any mind.
Ronan Miir wasn’t planning on visiting the diner on ERAEMA, but the
second he spots Lindsey, he knows he has to save her. The metallic aliens on
the planet want nothing good for to her. Not Ronan. He wants to kiss, touch,
and protect her. Good thing he knows a thing or two about aliens, rescue, and
getting back to Eerie. He’s ready to make their pairing into a forever
romance… if she’ll give him a chance.
She blinked back tears and her stomach lurched again. She’d been taken
from her home against her will, was being used for something she never wanted
to take part in, and had been dumped in a place she didn’t even know to
work for a being who claimed to own her. And she had no idea how to get home.
Lovely.
“Oh, and if you try to rip the comm off your body, it will alert P482
and he’ll destroy you.” T181 threw a rag in her direction.
“Get to cleaning. These tables won’t sanitize themselves.”
She held onto the rag, then wondered what she was supposed to clean with the
rag. Instead of asking questions, she moved to the first table and wiped it
down. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to cry. If she’d been
able to be strong so far, she could keep doing it. She had no choice.
She wasn’t about to let anyone see her crack. She’d dissociate
from herself and pretend she wasn’t here. Again. She wasn’t
anyone’s slave. She didn’t have to act like she was happy in her
surroundings.
“A few rules. Don’t talk to the clients. You’re here to
clean, not flirt. They won’t take you out of here, so don’t ask.
Understood?” T181 asked. “If they want food, they’ll let you
know, but you simply deliver. You clean, you keep your mouth shut, and you
give in to P482 if you want freedom from here.”
A man walked into the diner and said something she couldn’t quite hear
to T181. Lindsey moved to the second table and watched the man. So far,
she’d only seen beings that resembled satellites, like T181 and P482.
This was the first being she’d encountered, even at a glance, who sort
of resembled a human.
She watched him and her heart ached. Not only because she missed her home, but
because she missed being held. Missed being touched. Missed other humans.
Hell, she wasn’t even sure anyone would want to look for her. No one
probably missed her.
Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t drool over this being. She
swept her gaze over him. Dark hair, a bit wavy and just long enough to need a
little product. Icy blue eyes that seemed to pierce through her the longer she
looked at him. He had a slight dimple when he smiled and dazzling white teeth.
He even had nice hands. The suit fit tight to his body, like it was tailored
precisely for him. He oozed sex. No, not just sex, but power and confidence as
well.
Not that this man would ever look her way. Good gracious. She was like
Cinderella, but on a whole different planet. Even back on Earth men like him
didn’t pay her any mind. She faded into the background -- just like she
would here.
T181 moved between her and the man. “He’s mine. He’s got
money, he’s free to move about the planet, and won’t bed
you.”
She almost asked, “Bed him?” She hadn’t even thought of
that. “Sure.”
She glanced over at him while she cleaned the third table. He had nice lips.
Just full enough for a good kiss. She’d bet he was skilled at kissing,
too. Not that she’d ever know. She was stuck.
She’d been taken to breed and given a bullshit answer for how to get
home. A lie. Her heart hurt. This was so silly. Impossible, really. This man,
no matter how sexy he was, probably had obscene amounts of money or credits or
whatever. She wasn’t even sure how he’d been able to come to the
planet. Was he a prisoner, too?
About the Author
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of
more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since
2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and
paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works
are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a
second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at
the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and
Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various
e-tailer sites.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
Ashlynn Monroe is here to tell us about Claimed, Claimed 3, an off world sci-fi action romance.
Read on for details...
______________________
(Claimed 3)
An Off World Sci-Fi Action Romance
Date Published: May 8, 2026
Publisher: Changeling Press
Lexa never really knew what it meant to live until she was condemned to
die.
Framed for a crime she’d never even contemplated, Lexa Mercer’s
doing thirty days or death on the Intergalactic Broadcasting Channel’s
hit reality show Nariasma. She owes her life to one of the show’s
hottest contestants -- and a ghost of a man no one is supposed to know exists.
Roan of the Northlands is a man made famous by enduring his sentence on the
space station Nariasma. Lexa has seen the rugged hunk on television, but she
never imagined he’d be rescuing her from hunters who’ve paid to
kill criminals.
Roan’s strange companion Jenner is convinced Lexa is the key to their
freedom. Surviving and keeping her alive is just part of the challenge. Now
Roan has more to lose than his future. He’s made the mistake of falling
in love with Lexa, and that makes him the one thing he’s never been on
Nariasma -- vulnerable.
Roan and Jenner will give all they’ve got to protect Lexa.
Jenner’s convinced she’s the only one who can save them. But does
she have the strength to change their reality?
Lexa's mouth felt dry. She tasted a bitter metallic tang on her tongue. For a
few seconds she lay, hurting, with her eyes closed. Her head ached as she sat
up. She didn't remember much at first, but then the horror of Dom's death and
her sham of a trial came rushing back in a torrent.
She groaned and opened her eyes. The room was small. Bright light shone down
from a single fixture in the ceiling. She was dressed in a dark brown leather
corset and matching -- too tight -- leather pants. She ran her hands over her
backside. The horrible pants weren't ass-less, and she was glad of that, at
least. There was a black nylon utility vest over her shoulders. A row of
silver and gold sequins sparkled on the hem of the vest. The combination of
style and material was strange. Glam survivalist?
She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose in an attempt to clear
her foggy mind. Her stomach rolled. Someone had seen her naked when she'd been
at her most vulnerable. Shivering, she forced herself to stop thinking about
how dirty having been stripped made her feel. Pushing herself up, using the
wall, she managed to get to her feet.
The door slid open with a whoosh. Whoever designed the room had hidden the
door so well she'd never even noticed it until it opened. A tall woman watched
her mutely.
Lexa flinched under the scrutiny. "Why are you here? What's happening to me?"
Lexa screamed the questions at the woman as her hysteria rose.
"You'll have a ten second head start. Go right to avoid the desert. Get to the
trees, and you'll have a better chance. Here is your pack. It's all any of the
contestants start out with. Inside you'll find a utility knife, canteen and
matches. Millions of fans will be watching you. Take solace in knowing you
won't die alone." The woman spoke without any hint of emotion or remorse.
"I don't plan to die at all," Lexa said. She hated how this woman had written
her off. She wasn't doomed. She wasn't going to give up. Just because wealthy
men had paid for a license to hunt her didn't mean she was automatically
condemned. "I'm going to serve my time and return home."
Sympathy flickered across the woman's features, but she quickly covered the
expression with a scowl. "Few have lived long enough to serve their time. No
woman has left this place alive. Many find it easier just to walk out and wait
for the end."
"I've never been good at taking the easy way out. I'll take my chances with
the woods. Why are you giving me advice?"
"It's been a long time since we've had a woman as young as you on the show.
I'd like to make the most of your time." The tall stranger's words held the
ring of truth.
Lexa shrugged. "I'll do my best to outlast my sentence. I'd hate it if
Interplanetary Broadcasting lost ratings due to my untimely demise. How bad
can a month be?" Lexa spoke as sarcastically as possible. She didn't know if
the cameras were already watching her, but she had a feeling they might be.
Hatred for the mindless people watching her injustice boiled in her core.
Until now, she'd been just like them.
The reality of how meaningless human life was hit her with shocking force.
The woman's eyes darkened. "May the enlightenment of justice guide your path."
Her sentence had begun. The cameras were watching. The woman's use of words
made that clear. "Um, thanks, I'll make my own light. I've had a taste of
justice, and it wasn't for me." Her new reality was a terrifying example of
how deep a lie could burrow to masquerade as truth. She glared at the woman.
No matter how afraid she felt she refused to let her fear show.
The emotionless expression taking over the woman's face made her shiver. "What
happens now?" Lexa asked.
"Now you survive, or not. Either way, it'll be good TV."
Lexa's eyes widened as the woman shoved her out the door.
She ended up on an elevator and not in a hallway as she'd expected. As her
brain kicked in, she realized it was now or never. With shaking hands, she
took the items from the pack and shoved them in the few pockets her thin vest
offered. She'd seen this show a few times -- enough to know the bright orange
backpack was a good way to die.
Now she wished she'd watched more often. Her mother hated the show and always
said it was low class and not what her daughter should watch.
Just as she put the last item into a secure place and dropped the bright bag,
the elevator stopped. Her heart raced. Her heavy breathing was the only sound
she could hear.
The doors opened and bright sunlight flooded the dark space to blind her. She
took a shaky step and saw trees in the distance. She took the woman's advice
and ran toward them.
In her mind, she started to count. One... two... three... The ten seconds
would be over long before she reached the trees. She didn't look back, afraid
of what she'd see. They'd be waiting. Men had paid for the privilege of
killing her for the entertainment of bored television viewers back home.
A breeze ruffled her hair. Everything felt so real here, but it wasn't a
planet. It was a space station. Terror hit her in the stomach so hard she
stumbled. Horrified, she watched the ground coming at her face as she fell
forward. She was giving her life to those bastards too easily. Her eager
executioners would be upon her in seconds.
Eight... nine... ouch. She landed as her ten seconds ended. Rolling to her
back, she sat up only to see three well-armed men wearing body armor aiming
old-fashioned high-powered automatic rifles at her.
Death. She wasn't ready. Hands grabbed her roughly. The brutality of their
grip caused her shock to turn into terror. She didn't scream or struggle. The
raw panic kept her still. She was standing because those large hands hand
pulled her to her feet.
"Run!"
She spun around and her breath hitched in her throat. He was glorious.
Roan of the Northlands, one of the sexiest men on TV, was rescuing her. He
grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward just as the first shot rang out. Dirt
erupted next to her foot. "Go!"
About the Author
Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her
greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring
a little more romance into the world. She's been writing since her teens for
her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with
readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her
home and life with love. If she's not working or chasing children, you can
find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance.
