Thursday, March 16, 2017

Ghost by RJ Scott

Can you ever hold on to a ghost?

Elliot is tracking an elusive killer, codenamed Ghost, with ties to organized crime. Every time the Sanctuary team gets close, Ghost slips their grasp.

Cole has nowhere left to turn. With his father dying and his sister in danger, he turns for help to the very people trying to track him down. Sanctuary’s assistance is what he needs to punch another hole in Varga’s organization.

When Elliot and Cole meet, it isn’t just passion that consumes them. When lust becomes something more, Elliot realizes that sometimes you can’t hold on to a ghost, and that sacrifice is often the only way to make things right.

Another great read by the masterful RJ Scott! I have not read everything she's written but I have never been disappointed with the work that has crossed my Kindle and Ghost is no exception to that.  I always enjoy a good enemies to lovers tale, okay maybe enemies is a bit harsh for how Elliot and Cole begin but they certainly are not friends, perhaps adversaries is a better word.

Sanctuary does what is does best, protect the hurting, I can't quite say innocent because lets face it, the cases, protectors, and protectees can fall into a bit of a grey area when it comes to the legal side of the table.  The chemistry between the boys is off the charts, whether it's mud-slinging, easy going banter, or just existing within the same four walls, you can just feel the heat emanating off your e-reader.  If you are sitting down to read the print version you better be prepared for spontaneous combustion because Ghost is full-on foreplay.

I won't touch on the mystery aspect of Ghost which is a continuation of the Vargas case that began the Chicago arc in Accidental Hero because I don't do spoilers but I will say it kept me intrigued from beginning to end.  As I type this I am patiently waiting, or not so patiently to be honest, for the next and possibly final installment By the Numbers.  If you haven't read Sanctuary, Inc yet I highly recommend getting your fingers walking, prepare tons of your caffeine beverage of choice, and diving in because you won't surface till you finished.


Chapter 1
“This is not going to end well,” his sister warned him, an edge to her voice.

“I just need five minutes.” Cole was aiming for composed and in control, despite the fact his adrenaline was spiking dangerously high. Where was his center? Where was his ability to see events unfold before him with calm consideration?

Gone as soon as your two worlds began to collide with the horrible realization that today would finally be the day you might not make it out alive.


“Do your job, sis.”

“Fuck you, big brother.”

Cole didn’t answer that one. As the controller of the op, she wouldn’t take her eyes off the meeting she was tasked with watching—six of Varga’s key men in a restaurant on Halsted, giving him the heads-up when they disbanded and headed toward the run-down warehouse district for the meeting. He was there to deal with a man who didn’t deserve to live on this earth, and he was already fighting the sickness roiling in his stomach.

Unfortunately, things had taken a turn for the worse, and Cole wished he could say he’d expected the shit to hit the fan, but he hadn’t. He’d honestly thought tonight would go smoothly given he’d evaded Sanctuary again.

He’d been the mouse avoiding the trap for so long that he’d not seen the pattern emerging. Slowly but surely, Sanctuary was getting closer, the proverbial thorn in his side. It was as though they were second-guessing him, tracking him enough to see patterns.

Patterns killed people in his line of work.

He checked his gun, considered holstering it. No one was supposed to die tonight; it was just a deal—money for human lives—something he’d been working on for months. His job was to fix this, but Sanctuary kept getting in his way.

And if they caught up with him again, with their do-good meddling and their freaking unanswered questions, he was way too smart to get caught.


“Bad guys are only five minutes out,” his sister warned again. He didn’t answer, and she wouldn’t expect him to. “And you’ve got company with Sanctuary tracking your way.”


“You need me there?”

Cole weighed his options. She needed to be with their father, who couldn’t be left, so it was just Cole and his gun and his sorely tested wits.

He’d need his gun if he needed to get away from that Sanctuary fucker Elliot. The man was like a dog with a bone, and Cole couldn’t afford to be compromised tonight. Every meeting, every mission, Elliot got closer, yet Cole couldn’t move from his spot or everything would go to shit and he’d lose his chance of getting the best human return for his cash.

Sanctuary was the elite, but he knew he was better, or he’d have died a long time ago. Bravado and confidence had gotten him this far in life, mostly unharmed and thankfully alive. But if Elliot arrived when the shit was hitting the fan, he’d be collateral damage, and Cole wasn’t ready to work on those terms.

He moved even deeper into the shadows, his back against the brick wall, an exit to the street on his right, the parking lot on his left. Above his head was the fire escape pull-down ladder for that apartment block; at his feet, the ground was damp with the rain that had only eased up a few minutes ago, and distant streetlights sparkled in puddle remnants just outside the cloak of darkness. Everything was quiet; but moments away, following fuck-knows-what lead to get there, was Sanctuary.

Or, more correctly, Elliot, with his dogged determination and his uncanny ability to see beyond a scene and know exactly where Cole had gone.

Last time, Elliot had only missed him by a single minute, and Cole wasn’t ashamed to admit that the near misses sent a frisson of excitement up his spine. Too often he’d been the steady one, staring down a scope, a surgical removal to keep others safe, distanced from the kill and the action. The cat and mouse with Elliot was a game that he was enjoying far too much.

Add to which, Elliot was gorgeous and sexy, and all kinds of a hard-ass, and Cole was happy to surveil the guy every moment he could. Elliot was a good guy who didn’t smile much, but he’d broken up with his boyfriend two months before; he shopped organically and lived close to the place Sanctuary called Head Office in Chicago. All things being even, Elliot would score high on Cole’s list of ideal attributes in a lover. There was nothing better than roughing up an organic-loving tight-ass and reducing him to a puddle of goo in the middle of snow-white sheets.

Not that he’d spent a long time fantasizing about Elliot naked and in his bed.

He listened for the tiny noises that would give Elliot’s arrival away, not as close as breathing, but his movement could block sounds from the street beyond, if only infinitesimally.

The cold air promised more snow; Cole knew the only thing that could give him away would be the puff of his breath, so he burrowed down into the scarf twisted around his neck.

A soft scuff of leather on the sidewalk had Cole stiffening, and he briefly tightened his grip on the lethal SIG in his hand. He relaxed only a millisecond later when a woman’s laughter and a man’s voice had him focusing past the light and to the street beyond. He was right on Englewood’s district line, and the whole meeting was playing out in a place where he felt way too exposed. He knew his mark had set this meet here for a reason. Mario was a shifty fucker who played the game of criminal very well. Little did the man know that nothing was going to keep him safe if he fucked Cole over. Not tonight. Not ever.

The woman laughed again, but this time the sound seemed a little off, as if she hadn’t really meant to laugh. There was no real joy in the noise.

Too late he realized what that meant.

Too late when the whisper of a movement to his left turned into the barrel of a weapon smacking his temple.

The wall kept him standing, but the sweep of a foot behind his knee had him landing heavily on one side, in stagnant water. Cole didn’t lay there waiting for the next part of this dance; he was rolling even as he fell, one leg darting out as he rose, catching his assailant in the thigh and causing him to stumble back. Coming to a crouch, Cole admired the way the other man’s stumble turned into nothing more than a sidestep and a twisting motion that missed Cole by inches.

Cole took the initiative, stepping right into the man’s space, up close to Elliot’s face, and in seconds he’d pushed him hard against the wall.

“Leave it,” Cole growled, when what he wanted to do was sit Elliot down and explain exactly why he needed Elliot to leave right the fuck now.

“Fuck you,” Elliot snapped, even as he fell limp in Cole’s hold, then yanked free to shove a knee right into Cole’s groin.

He missed by inches; the force of the shove went to Cole’s inner thigh, hard enough to give him a dead leg long enough to give Elliot the upper hand.

But Cole wasn’t done. He countered with a punch to Elliot’s face, feeling the wetness of fist on skin at the point where Elliot’s head snapped back with a spray of blood. A normal man would be on the ground after that—hell, a normal man wouldn’t have gotten out of Cole’s press against the wall.

Elliot wasn’t a normal man. He was trained, focused, and fucking vicious at it.

“They’re really close now; you need to end this with Sanctuary.”

His sister’s voice in his ear was enough to make Cole follow through with another punch that caught cheekbone and hair and then slid past to slam the wall. He cursed the contact and his stupidity at giving Elliot the upper hand. This time it was Cole himself up against the wall, and he could see dark eyes, focused and hard, and feel the fingers tightening on his throat. He attempted to go limp, but all Elliot did was push harder, which left only one thing. Elliot was close, and with a concerted effort, Cole snapped his head forward, the top smacking Elliot between the eyes.

Elliot crumpled at first, momentarily stunned, and then he stumbled to stand.

But Cole was prepared, retrieving his weapon and pointing it directly at Elliot. “Run,” he snapped.

Elliot said nothing, stepping toward him. Fuck, did the man not care that Cole had a gun on him?

“You have company one minute out.” The voice in his ear sounded a little frantic.

Fuck, this whole thing was going wrong. Cole had his mark and various cronies bearing down on him, and Sanctuary in the shape of Elliot right in the freaking middle.

But if Cole left, then what about the kids? Teenagers the same age as his brother, straight from the boat, working in slavery for the Varga organization. They had a deal, and tonight Cole had the money and the upper hand.

Or at least he had until Elliot tracked him down.

“You have to leave,” he snapped and gestured with the gun.

Surprise made Elliot frown, and only when he saw that did Cole realize he’d fucked up—they were standing under the street light. They needed to get back into the shadows. Cole shoved him back against the wall, wincing at the sound of Elliot’s skull making contact with the bricks before he wordlessly slid to the ground in the darkness.

And then it was too late to think of anything.

At the same time his sister’s frantic voice warned him that a car was turning onto the street, Cole heard a voice from the darkness.

So, his mark had sent an advance guard, and all Cole could think was that if it was his time to die, he didn’t want to take anyone with him.

“Drop the gun, asshole,” a voice said from somewhere beyond the light. He caught sight of the semi-automatic weapon as the person stepped forward; he didn’t stand a chance against that kind of firepower. The barrel of another gun poked at the base of his skull.

Cole dropped his pistol to the ground, feeling abruptly bereft. “It’s done,” he said to whoever the hell was behind him.

Cole lifted his hands and laced them behind his head, looking right into the darkness, not able to see Elliot’s form but hoping to hell he stayed the fuck down. Very deliberately he turned to face the man with the gun at his head.

“Talk to me,” his sister snapped at him, her voice dead and cold, gone past emotional and well into focused.

“You realize I have a meeting with Mario, right? That this was organized? He won’t take it well when he finds out you’re here with a gun on me.”

A nasal voice joined in. “I’m quite happy with the situation,” Mario said.

And right there and then, Cole knew time was up. He needed to confront this; he had a legitimate cover there, and he needed to maintain it. Slowly he unclasped his hands and let them hang loosely at his sides. “What the fuck, man?” he asked.

“Do you have access to the money?”

Cole wasn’t letting the evil fucker get control of the conversation. “How many?” he asked firmly.

Mario looked at him; a group of others, all armed, were crowding around him. Mario was nothing if not the nervous type, twitchy like a ferret, all sharp angles, and meth-head eyes. He’d made it so far in the Varga organization only due to the fact he was Varga’s nephew or cousin, or some such shit.

He was also suspicious as hell of anything and everything, which was why it had taken this long for Cole to get anywhere near him. Tonight wasn’t the night that Cole got to deal with erasing Mario from existence; he had kids to get out alive. That was his priority.

“You can have seven of them,” Mario said, his lips stretching in an obscene grin.

“The deal was for all ten.”

Mario shrugged as if he wasn’t playing with people’s lives. “I have a market for the other three,” he said nonchalantly.

Cole knew exactly what that meant: the younger girls parceled up and sold on. “All ten, or no deal,” he stated, keeping emotion out of his voice.

“Then the price goes up. No skin off my nose who gets them.”

“How much?”

“Well now... just how badly do you want them all?”

One of Mario’s men snickered, and the sound echoed in the otherwise quiet alley.

Cole could play it two ways: show his hand and admit he was desperate to get all ten of the illegals Mario had, or try to call his bluff.

“Fuck you,” Cole said, and drew himself tall. He wished he had his weapon, but he’d just have to hope to hell that confronting was the answer. “The deal’s off.”

He bent to pick up his weapon, slowly placing it back into the holster and straightening his jacket. Varga senior would be pissed with his lieutenant blowing a deal like that. Getting illegals to the city was one thing, offloading them with profit above and beyond what the illegals had probably paid to get there was an entirely different ball game. He could visualize the thought processes going on…Mario was the youngest of three lieutenants that reported to Varga, the one still out to prove himself, and he wouldn’t want to lose the deal.

“An extra ten,” Mario said, throwing it out as if it meant nothing to him.

“Five.” Cole couldn’t give in too easily.

“Hell, I can get double that on the ’net for the seven-year-old,” Mario said.

Cole had to stop the panic pushing at his chest and nausea that threatened to have him vomiting on the sidewalk. The idea of a child as young as seven being under this bastard’s control made him sick to his stomach. He pretended to consider the deal, knowing full well he’d pay every fucking cent. “Seven-five and we’re done, cash in the bank.” He even injected a small note of respect into his voice, which had Mario preening in front of his posse. He’d save face, and Cole would keep his persona of didn’t-give-a-shit human trafficker intact.

“I’ll take that,” Mario said.

One of the posse stepped forward, and intel was buzzing in his ear about twelve souls being inside the warehouse. Not ten, twelve. Two of them were moving around, the other ten not moving much. Twelve heat signatures, so all ten kids were alive—but the extra two? Mario was fucking with him, had likely placed two men inside. Cole would take a step inside the warehouse, and be a dead man.

How had he blown his cover? This wasn’t the first deal he’d brokered with Mario, setting up his cover as a trader in human flesh, looking for ways to save lives and get deep into Varga’s organization at the same time. But something wasn’t right…

Very carefully and deliberately he pulled out his cell, and with a few button presses, transferred the fifty, plus the extra seven-five, into the account he’d been given details of. Next to Mario one of the guys checked his own cell and nodded.

“It’s cleared.”

Mario tossed the key card for the warehouse to Cole, who caught it deftly. “All yours,” Mario said, and then he turned and left, taking everyone with him.

“Heads-up,” his sister said. “The extra two have left the building at the rear. Hovering outside the closed door.”

What the fuck?

Cole crossed to the steel door and waved the card at the lock, half surprised when the door actually clicked and swung open. He pushed his way in to be faced with piles of packing cases and pallets. Pulling the door shut behind him, he cautiously made his way around the piles and checked out the corners of the warehouse. He’d lost contact with outside assistance since he’d walked in there, just one hell of a lot of static and not much in the way of a voice.

He rounded what he imagined was the last corner to find ten—he counted—kids and teenagers, none older than fourteen: six girls and four boys huddled together, bound with chains to a metal framework. Most of them stared at him with dead eyes; only the youngest was whimpering and crying. What had they been through to get here? Torn from their families, placed into shipping containers, and then passed around to their new owners on payment of money?

Immediately he went to a crouch and held out a hand in a gesture of innocence. “It’s okay,” he said in English. “I’m here to help.”

He repeated it in as many languages as he’d learned those words in, hoping to hell he’d hit the jackpot somewhere along the way. He approached the closest child, a boy of thirteen or so who stared at him blankly. Apologizing in soft tones, Cole reached over and checked the chain. He found a simple lock that he could have them out of quickly. He pulled out his kit, dealt first with one lock, then another, his hands shaky at first, waiting to die in a hail of bullets. At least he could get the kids away.

The radio crackled and hissed in his ear; he could only make out a few words. Fire! Get out.

Resolutely he continued with the chains until all ten were free; he realized they’d all gathered close to him, some holding hands, but all looking to him as smoke edged under the boxes and into their corner. Cole was considerably taller than the children, and he could see past the nearest blockage to a hint of fire beyond, cutting them off from the exit.

So, that was how he was being taken out of the equation; that was how Mario deleted him from the Chicago sex trade. Mario was removing a rival, along with ten innocent kids.


“Sis? Can you hear me?” He spoke loudly above the sound of the littlest girl crying. In a smooth move, he scooped her up, holding her tight. If there was no way out of here and they were all going to die, what would he do? He had bullets; he could shoot some of the kids? Fuck, the horror was sick inside him. Think. Think. He wasn’t going to let anyone burn to death.

Stop, he told himself. There’s nothing to be won by planning for the worst.

He looked up at the vents and tiny windows about twenty feet from the floor. He could pile boxes, pass the kids up, smash the window.

The heat was getting noticeable; the huddle of kids pressed tighter. They didn’t have much time. An explosion of glass had them all ducking as panes shattered around them. Had the fire reached the windows?

Then he heard shouting.

“Up here!” a voice demanded, and peering up, Cole could see Elliot scrambling through the space and lowering himself in, dropping and rolling awkwardly. “Get the boxes.”

For a second, Cole was immobile, and then adrenaline flooded into him. Between him and Elliot, they made a pile of boxes and crates. A step up, lifting and dragging, and one by one the kids were out of the window, wriggling through the space. Elliot went next, going out, then reaching back in as fire began to lick at the boxes.

Cole’s breathing became labored. And then he spotted the smallest kid, curled into a ball, her face hidden by her hands and her long dark hair. She was so tiny and scared, way down on the ground, not climbing up as the others had done. Cole thought she’d been first out, but in the chaos, he’d missed her.

“Kid!” Elliot shouted from the window.

But if anything, she curled tighter, her hands over her ears, rocking slowly. “I’m going back down,” Cole said.

“You have thirty seconds before this whole place lights up.”

Cole didn’t hesitate—he wasn’t about to leave a child behind. He jumped lithely to the floor and into a crouch, cursing at the pain shooting up from his knee, as he crawled low under the choking smoke to where the girl huddled.

He grabbed her, but she wailed and fought against his hold. Cole ignored the scratching of fingers and the sheer panic, and climbed the crates up to the window, his chest tight; breathing hard. There he unfurled her fingers, shoving the girl through the space to Elliot, who yanked her through.

“Is that ten?” Cole gasped as the box he stood on wavered; he gripped hard at the windowsill.

“Get out.”

“Is that all ten kids?”

“Yes, grab hold!” Elliot held out a hand.

Cole tried to grip as the pile toppled, their fingers touched, and then the world fell away, stopped in a millisecond by Elliot leaning in and grabbing at Cole. Elliot pulled, and Cole scrambled, and the hungry fire bit at him, burned him even as he fell out of the building and the force of hitting the trash cans below was enough to steal his breath.

“Jesus,” Elliot snapped, smacking at Cole’s jacket to extinguish the flames as Cole shrugged it off in a panic.

As he rolled, he pulled his weapon from its holster and pointed it right between Elliot’s eyes, waiting for him to make a move. All Elliot did was raise his hands and stare at Cole with an expression that Cole couldn’t read.

Cole asked, “Where are Mario’s two goons?”

“Out cold. You’re not the man we profiled. Who the fuck are you really?”

Cole didn’t answer.

 “You should know I called 911,” Elliot said, his expression unreadable.

Was Elliot giving him a chance to leave? A warning? He seemed more interested in hugging the kids to him protectively than in taking Cole down.

Cole looked away from the kids to Elliot and holstered his gun. “Do this for them,” he said. To get involved with the cops at that moment would destroy everything. “The Andreas Home on Windsor Street. It’s a special place for kids taken from their parents like this. Will you take them?”

Elliot nodded. “Yes,” he said, all seriousness. Then he inclined his head toward the sound of sirens.

Cole grabbed what was left of his jacket, and with one last look at Elliot and the kids, he was gone.

Author Bio:
RJ Scott has been writing since age six when she was made to stay in at lunchtime for an infraction involving cookies and was told to write a story. Two sides of A4 about a trapped princess later, a lover of writing was born. She reads anything from thrillers to sci-fi to horror; however, her first real love will always be the world of romance. From billionaires, bodyguards and cowboys to SEALs, throwaways and veterinarians, she writes passionate stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and more than a hint of happily ever after.



Sale Blitz: The Masterpiece Trilogy Box Set by Nikki Lynn Barrett

Series: Masterpiece Trilogy
Author: Nikki Lynn Barrett
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date:  July 26, 2016

***Free March 14-18***
Twenty years ago, they survived a plane crash.

One boy, one girl. He was twelve; she was eight.

A bond forms when all they have is each other and a fight for survival on their hands.

Their story is one of friendship, danger, secrets and terrifying truths. For the first time ever, the Masterpiece Trilogy is bundled up in one boxed set. A Masterpiece Of Our Love, A Masterpiece Unraveled, and A Forever Masterpiece are full of twists, turns, suspense, and a love like no other.

Also included in this set is a new, never before published prequel.

A Masterpiece of Our Love #1
Hunter followed Becca inside, taking in the sights of her living space. The walls were a plain dull white, but Becca had filled them up with painting after painting, many of which he'd never seen before. Right by the patio door sat a large easel. A beige sectional took up a good amount of space in the living room. "It's so homey. Very you." he said, continuing to look around. Why had he never come to see her home before?

"All these paintings... You know I'm going to have to ask again. Why are you not selling these in a gallery somewhere?"

Becca's cheeks reddened again. She faced him, taking his hands in hers. "You really think I should, don't you?"

"Well of course." He pulled her closer, sliding his arms around her waist. "You just wait. You'll meet people that are going to bow down to your talent. Don't be surprised if you have a few offers. Then when you're world famous, I can say with pride that I knew you back when. That I love the most amazing, talented artist on this planet."

Her eyelashes fluttered and she looked down for a second, then flashed her gaze back to him. "Say that again," she whispered.

"What? That I knew you back when?" His lips curved up in a grin. He knew exactly what she meant, but had to mess with her anyway.

A Masterpiece Unraveled #2
"Becca? What's going on out here?" Hunter ran down the sidewalk toward them.

"This woman nearly knocked me over and when I try to help, she goes psycho on me as if I'm trying to hurt her. I didn't do anything to her, man." The guy took a few steps back.

Hunter knelt beside Becca, checking her over. "Did he try to hurt you?"

"I didn't-" the guy started.

Fresh tears in her eyes, Becca shook her head.

"I don't know. I did bump into him, and when he grabbed me I got scared."

"Come on angel, let's get inside then." Hunter held out his hand and helped get her on her feet.

"Crazies always come out at night. If your girl can't handle the dark don't let her out of your sight," the guy snarled, taking off.

She'd done it again. Panicked when nothing was going on. Practically attacked a guy most likely just trying to help, especially when she was the one who ran into him.

Hunter slid an arm around her shoulders. She limped away, her knee throbbing from hitting the ground. Before they went back inside, he stopped her on the patio by touching her shoulders, keeping her in place. "This isn't good, Bec. You can't-"

She stepped away from him. "I know. I can't keep doing that. You think I don't know this! I don't want to be jumping all over everyone when they're innocent bystanders! I hate losing my mind! I'm afraid I'm going to hurt somebody because I can't stop thinking someone's going to come after me again! I heard voices, talking about scaring someone. Part of me thought they were talking about me. Is that what you want to know? I'm paranoid. There, I said it."

Becca left Hunter standing there in shock as she bolted back indoors.

A Forever Masterpiece #3
Needing to lighten the mood before his heart broke even more, Hunter took Becca's hands in his. He gave her a light, mischievous smile. "You know, I never did get to bring a girl in my room to kiss her." Not at twelve. He hadn't been interested in girls that way, really. Not yet.

Had Becca been in his room when his parents brought her home? Did they bring her here, even for a while? They had to have before bringing her to the Langes. Hunter tried to picture what baby Becca looked like. Had he been curious about a tiny baby all of a sudden in the house? Did they try to keep her hidden, even from their four year old son? So many questions, and not enough answers.

"So what you're saying is you wanted to take an innocent girl up to your room and seduce her," Becca said coyly, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "I don't know. I'm not that kind of girl. You'll have to really work your way to get a kiss from me."

Hunter chuckled, loving that she played along. He pulled her closer, sliding his arms around her waist. "Hard to get, eh? I think I can win you over. I've got the skills."

She tilted her head to the side. "Oh? This I need to see."

He leaned over and kissed her neck, trailing all the way to her jaw. "You know you want to kiss me. I'm one of your painting inspirations." He blew air on the nape of her neck. Her fingers dug into his back. "Come on, give a man his wish. Do I have to beg?"

Author Bio:
No matter where she goes, USA Today Bestselling author Nikki Lynn Barrett hears voices in her head. Instead of calling her crazy and locking her up, her family realizes it's just a product of being an author and allows her to write the stories so that the voices shut up.

But they don't. And probably never will. There's no need to lock her up, Nikki knows she'll never escape the voices, not until each and every last story is written. And for every story she writes, about ten or more ideas pop up.

When she isn't slaving away at her computer writing books that will probably make you cry and keep you in suspense, Nikki plots to take over the world one book at a time. What? It's a sickness. One she can't escape!

Books aren't her only addiction, though. Nikki can be found making up parodies to drive her son crazy, and bantering back and forth with her husband, who somehow manages to steal her away from the fictional world she lives in all the time.

Nikki lives in Arizona with her husband and son, where she can be found using every creativity outlet she can find through music, photography, handcrafted things, and random interests that she may pick up from time to time.

If you want to learn more about the author who makes people cry for a living, check out her website.


***Free March 14-18***

Brought to you by:

No Regrets by Nicky James

Title: No Regrets
Author: Nicky James
Genre: M/M Adult Romance
Release Date: March 15, 2017
Publisher: Encompass Ink
Life makes no promises, and sometimes, you draw the short straw.

Landon Johnston’s life came to a grinding halt seven months ago, when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

With the encouragement of his grandmother, Landon works his way out of his slump and tries to live life while he still can.

Deciding he doesn’t want to drag anyone else down his morbid path, Landon gives up all friendships and denies himself love. It’s better this way, because all he has to offer is eventual heartache and sadness.

While traveling the world, Landon meets Abel Matheson, a free-spirited, unedited, and nerve-grating man who was supposed to only be a one-night-stand.

Despite Landon’s insistence that he can’t form a relationship with his current diagnoses, Abel is persistent and will not be ignored.

Fighting against all his ingrained urges to run, Landon finds himself drawn down the road he swore he’d never take.

Intimacy grows and bonds form…

Only… Abel doesn’t know Landon is sick.

How can anyone love a man with no future?

Telling him might cause him to run, but staying silent means living a lie. A lie which will only reveal itself in time.

Note: This story is a HFN or bitter sweet HEA read. It contains potential triggers for people who may be affected by cancer and its effects.

The silence returned as we continued with our drinks. Abel was the one to break first when he slid his empty cup aside and leaned in, talking in a hushed voice. “So, Landon from Canada, computer nerd and Spiderman wannabe. I’m gonna cut the shit and be blunt.”

“You mean, more blunt?”

“Yeah, more blunt, so brace yourself. You’re incredibly hot and I wanna find a room somewhere and fuck you senseless.”

“Oh. Umm…”

Who the hell says shit like that?

“There is a pub a block down. Let me buy you a couple of drinks and help you relax, because you’re all stiff and uptight. Then, what do you say we find somewhere private after that?”

I had to search for my words because they’d fallen into a gaping chasm of disbelief. “You’re awfully presumptuous.”

“I can be. But, you haven’t told me to fuck off yet, so I’m guessing you’ve been considering it too.”

Yeah, I’d been considering it since he stood in line for drinks twenty minutes ago. Is that how these things worked? Hey, wanna fuck? Sure, let’s go.

Swallowing the dry lump from my throat, I pinned him with a glare, doing my best to show confidence even though I trembled on the inside. “Maybe I am. Only, I don’t drink.”

More like I couldn’t drink, at least not with the massive array of medications I took. It was something I had to give up long ago. What I wouldn’t have given for a beer to calm me down. He was right, I was wound tighter than a spring.

 “A twenty-six-year-old, non-drinker. You just get more and more interesting. I’ll have to find other ways to get you to relax then. I can be creative. Are you here with anyone?”

“No. I umm… I came alone.”

“Do you have a room nearby?”

“What about your friends? Won’t they be looking for you?”

He chuckled. “Nah, they’ll be drinking themselves stupid half the night and won’t even know I’m not there.”

“Oh… umm…”

“A room?”

My gaze dropped to the table once again. My blood pressure rose with each slam of my heart against my ribcage. Why the hell was I so nervous? It wasn’t like I was some virgin or anything. I took a deep breath and tried to rein in the suffocating emotion before it got out of hand.

Shifting my gaze to my notebook, I saw my list in my head again and heard my grandmother’s words.
If I died tomorrow, I’d have no regrets. Can you say the same thing?

I was sure this wasn’t what she meant. Sorry, grandma.

Time to tick off another one.

“Fuck it. Yes, I have a room a block down the road.” With another shaky breath, I pushed my half-empty mug aside and grabbed my notebook. “What happens in China stays in China, right?” Standing, I glanced back at him.

His grin was facetious as he sucked the corner of his bottom lip into his teeth. “It’s not Vegas, but I think it applies.”

What Others Are Saying:
“This. Book. Broke my heart. Healed my soul. Made me cry. Laugh. Made me Hug my daughter and kiss my husband. No regrets.” - Alpha Book Club

“My heart hurts, my eyes are red and puffy and I am in the biggest slump I have been in for awhile. This book destroyed me, it's a story that will forever have a place in my heart, I have No Regrets <3” - Saucy Reviews on Kinky Korner

“No Regrets is a heart wrenchingly, ugly cry worthy ( and oh boy I cried) wonderful love story.
I loved the characters. I loved the words. I could feel the characters emotions in every single one.” - Goodreads Review

Author Bio:
Nicky James lives in the small town of Petrolia, Ontario, Canada. She is mother to a wonderful teenage boy and wife to a truly supportive and understanding husband who, thankfully, doesn’t think her crazy.

Nicky has always had two profound dreams in life; to fall back hundreds of years in time and live in a simpler world and to write novels. Since only one of those dreams was a possibility, she decided to make the other come alive on paper.

Nicky writes MM romance books in a variety of styles including contemporary, medieval, fantasy, and historical.

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