WRECKED by Shiloh Walker

WRECKED by Shiloh Walker

“Friends make the best lovers and soul mates in WRECKED. A beautiful look into true and enduring love…” Carly Phillips, NYT Bestselling Author

In the nineties, Abigale Applegate and Zach Barnes were the most beloved sitcom child stars in the world. Then they grew up and left Hollywood behind…

Whatever happened to Abigale Applegate?

She’s been wondering the same thing.

With her Hollywood dreams long gone, Abigale now has a nice, neat, uncomplicated life—until the day her perfect fiancé needs to talk. Dumped, a little more than shattered, and totally confused, Abigale turns to Zach, her best friend since forever, to help her pick up the pieces. He does it with a gift—a copy of Wreck This Journal. She can vent her frustrations, and sketch out a new plan. Zach just hopes he’s part of it. Because he’s been in love with Abigale his entire life.

When the journal falls into Zach’s hands, he discovers Abigale wants a new man. And fast. Nothing more than a hot distraction. Zach has a strategy, too. He’s going to be that man. It’s his last chance. Abigale might be out to shake up her life, but Zach’s out to reinvent it. Now, all he has to do is convince Abigale that life can go as planned.

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~Excerpt~

"I don't get it," she said softly, some of the confusion and pain breaking free. "I mean... I thought he loved me. How could he love me and walk away like that? Over the life I used to have? That's what it's all about. I used to be an actress. I'm not anymore--I haven't been for years and I'm happy with that. How can he not see that? If he loved me, wouldn't he be able to see that I don't want to act anymore?"

Zach didn't answer.

Turning her head, she peered over her shoulder at him.

He had his head bowed, the gold-streaked strands falling down and hiding his features from her.

"Zach?"

He sighed. "Do you really want to hear what I have to say about this right now, sugar?"

"I always want to hear what you have to say."

"Okay." He used the cloth again on her back and then bent down, staring at her skin like there was nothing else in the world but her back and the design he was inking onto her flesh. "He never loved you."

It was a strike, square to her heart.

She closed her eyes.

"If he loved you, he wouldn't treat you the way he did. When you walked into a room, it would have showed on his face...if he really loved you. Either he'd been so busy staring at you because he just had to see you, or he would have been looking away so nobody could see it. Except he was going to marry you-you were his and he had every right to let the world see how he felt." Zach dabbed at her back again, still focused on the work.

She was almost glad of the pain now, because it was easier to think about how much it hurt than to think about what he had to say.

"But when you walked into a room, that f'ing prick was too busy either messing with his damned gadgets or looking at everybody else to see what they thought about you. He was in love with the idea of having Kate the cutie on his arm. But he never loved you."

He paused what he doing and for a brief second, the world fell away as he looked up and met her eyes. "He never loved you, and the son of a bitch sure as hell didn't deserve you, sugar."

Her heart slammed against her ribs as his blue gaze held hers.

And then, as it felt like all the oxygen in the room had dwindled away, he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

It felt like he was flaying the flesh from her bones. And she decided that was just fine, because now she needed that distraction.

Was he right, she wondered? Had Roger ever loved her at all?

And more importantly...had she loved him?





"Okay, here are the important things," Zach said as he studied the design. It was cute, sexy as hell and if he found out another guy was the one who got to press his lips to that dragonfly as where it curved low over the flare of her left hip, he thought he just might go insane. "I'll send you home with some instructions on how to care for it, but you need to make sure you keep it clean. No scrubbing at it or anything-you need to be gentle when you wash it, but keep it clean. I've got some ointment I'll send home with you and I'll go into detail about using that, too."

She was still staring at it over her shoulder in the mirror. Worrying her lower lip with her teeth and eying the dragonfly like she expected it to take flight or something.

"I need to get the bandage on," he said softly.

"What? Oh."

She continued to stand there and he reached up, pressed his hand between her shoulder blades. "Lean forward a little."

Hunger screamed, jerking on the leash inside him as he eased the waistband of her skirt just a little lower so he could get the bandage in place. Bent over the table like that, he could so easily imagine pulling the hem of the skirt up. Slipping his hand between her thighs. Would she sigh? Moan?

No. This was Abby and she'd freak the hell out and then she'd run away and he'd lose her-

A soft, shaky sigh caught his attention as he smoothed the bandage down. Keeping his head bowed, he checked the mirror from under his lashes and his knees almost buckled.

Abby was staring at their reflection and her face was flushed.

What. The. Hell.

Abruptly, he stepped back and moved away. If he didn't move away immediately, he was going to grab her and do things he never should do to his best friend. The woman he loved. That was the problem. He'd loved her for too long and he was misreading the signals and-

"Do you really think all that's true? About Roger?"

Hearing that shithead's name on her lips snapped his temper. He turned around and glared at her. "If I didn't think that was the case, Abs, I wouldn't have said it. He's an egotistical, arrogant piece of work and he never loved you. You deserved a hell of a lot better and I knew it all along. But he was what you wanted so who in the hell was I to say any different?"

"You're my best friend," she said quietly.

"Shit." He went to pass a hand over his face and stopped. He still had his gloves on. Stripping them off, he tossed them into the red trash can near the door and headed over start cleaning up. "Yes. I am. You asked me what I thought and I told you. But I can't tell you what is in that prick's head. You can always ask him when you call him to tell him off, although I doubt he'll tell you the truth. He doesn't even see the truth anyway."

"Have you ever been in love?"

In the middle of gathering up his supplies, he paused. Zach closed his eyes and started to mouth every single foul, nasty curse he could think of. He had four brothers. He could think of a lot of cuss words. Half way through one that involved anatomical improbabilities and a goat, a hand touched his shoulder.

"Zach?"

Damn it, he couldn't do this. Moving away, he started grabbing shit at random. Dumping trash, slamming the tools here, there. Being careless with them, but he couldn't look at her yet. If he did, she might see-

He went to dump the trash and turned around.

Abby was right there, dark brown eyes locked on his face, her shirt still knotted just under her breasts, leaving her belly bare.

"What is this?" she teased. "You make me play twenty questions all the time."

Edging around her, he focused on cleaning up. "I'm thirty-two years old, Abby. Yeah. I've been in love," he said, keeping his voice flat and his eyes on the task at hand. "It didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"She never seemed to notice that I was staring at her when she walked into the room."

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NIGHT BLADE by J.C. Daniels

NIGHT BLADE by J.C. Daniels

The Colbana Files Book Two

Kit Colbana is always biting off more than she can chew. She has a knack for finding trouble. This time, though, trouble finds her. Someone from her past drops a case into her lap that she just can’t refuse…literally.

People on the Council are dying left and right and she’s been requested to investigate the deaths. The number one suspect? Her lover, Damon. If she doesn’t clear his name, he gets a death sentence. Even if she succeeds? They still might try to execute him. Oh, and she’s not allowed to tell him about the case, either.

The stakes are high this time around, higher than they’ve ever been. Kit may be forced to pay the ultimate price to save her lover’s life…a price that could destroy her and everything she loves.

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Excerpt:

 

“He isn’t going to make it if this keeps up. I’m barely holding the shields and I’m not in the thick of it. If he—”

Despite the wild magic rippling all around us, a surreal quiet had fallen but the sound of a weapon firing through the night had suddenly shattered it. Yeah, no mistaking that sound.

Ammo.

My brain kicked into gear and I started processing. No. I didn’t like modern weapons, although some of the weapons manufactured back in the 1800 and 1900s weren’t bad. They usually needed work when I got a hold of them, like my Desert Eagle—they were in bad need of repair, some TLC and I usually had to have my ammo specially made.

Weapons, though, regardless of their craftsmanship, or lack of, were my stock and trade and I knew them.

The one being fired now wasn’t new—the typical gun of today was quieter and operated with either a laser or an electric discharge. Most. Not all.

There were still plenty that fired ammo like the old school weapons, but my ears told me this was an older one. The kind that would cut through a tank. The kind soldiers had carried when they walked through deserts back in the wars fought in the earlier part of the century, right before our presence had been brought into the open.

They were rare these days, but I knew what it was: an old-school assault rifle with armor piercing capabilities. Loaded with the right kind of ammo—magically charged ammo, a weapon like that could take down just about anything…an elephant, a tank, a homicidal vampire. Or an enraged witch with a knack for death spells.

Magic ripped through the air. That was the right kind of ammo. I gasped as I felt in it the pit of my gut. The screaming started almost instantly.

“Something charged in that weapon,” Xavier whispered. “Where in the hell did he get that idea?”

I swallowed, staring at the ground. The weapon fired again and each time, the power built in the air. Higher and higher.

“He’s going to bring down the ward. Son of a bitch...” Xavier’s voice was full of shock, amazement and a little bit of horror.

I clamped my hands over my ears, because I knew what was coming. I could hear something shrieking—the wards, maybe. I could hear somebody screaming off in the distance, even though I knew the firefight was easily a mile away.

The magic built and built, and built—

When it broke, it was like a tsunami and I swayed under it. Blood trickled from my nose and I huddled there, convinced that somehow, the dying magic would get in and grab me.

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BEAUTIFUL SCARS by Shiloh Walker

BEAUTIFUL SCARS by Shiloh Walker

Some scars cut right to the heart.

Three years after her divorce, Chaili Bennett is over her ex. Her only problem now? Of the few men she’s dated since, no one “gets” her. Not like Marc Archer—a man who’s never seen her as more than a friend.

Marc Archer needs a date for a last-minute charity event, and he needs it fast. Not that women aren’t throwing themselves at his world-famous face and body, but sometimes it’s less messy—as in less personal—to use his sister Shera’s escort service.

The last woman on earth Marc expects to see in his sister’s office is Chaili. There’s something different about her, but nothing pleases him more when Shera sets them up. That simple date quickly evolves into much more as they both discover the other fills a deep, secret need they’ve shared with no one else.

Though Chaili insists one night is all she wants, Marc isn’t walking away now. Not until he discovers what put the shadows in her eyes. And the scars on her soul.

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Copyright © 2012 Shiloh Walker
 All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

The office was tucked away not far from his home in Lake Forest. Marc knew most of the people in the area had an idea just what Escortè did, and he suspected a few of them also thought there was more to the companionship service that his sister offered. He also knew she had her hands full chasing away the idiots who weren’t convinced by the office policy. He’d seen their mother dealing with it before she retired, had watched Shera handling it off and on, had listened to some of her stories, ranging from the funny to the messed-up.

Personally, he was glad he had an in to the place.

It made his life easier.

He could play the dating game okay, but he got tired of trying to do it. It was easier for him to keep it impersonal, professional. After Lily, he’d tried a few casual relationships, the just friends sort of thing, but those hadn’t ended up any better than any other messed-up relationship in his life. So he’d quit trying for a while and used Escortè.

There were similar services in other cities where he did the same thing. Kept it all nice and simple.

Then he hadn’t had to worry about it for a while.

He’d met Selene. They clicked. They were compatible—in bed and out, and he hadn’t had to mess with this crap.

Now? Starting all over again.

He tried not to feel aggravated. It was just a business thing. He paid for a date, had a woman with him for a few hours, spared himself the headache of dealing with some of the nightmares that came from being single at some of these parties. He also spared himself the nightmare that came from trying to have a friendly relationship that would just end in a disaster.

Really, this was for the best, right? All he had going with Selene was friendship anyway—granted, it was the friends with benefits sort of thing, but that could be found elsewhere.

Impersonal as hell. Yeah, that bothered him, and right now it was bothering him more than normal, but he’d finally found a way to balance his life and he didn’t need anything rocking that boat.

You need to stop being so negative, he told himself. But it was damned hard considering every relationship he’d been in since high school had gone from hell to hella-bad in a blink.

“No.” He threw the Porsche into park and climbed out, leaning against the side. “Not thinking about that.” Part of the reason he hated coming back here. And that pissed him off. Chicago was home. It was home, and he avoided it like the plague except for rare visits home to see his sister, all because coming back here made him think of…

“And you’re doing it again.” Shoving away from the car, he pocketed the keys and headed toward his sister’s office. It was quiet around here at night. During the day it was busy, but at night it was mostly vacant. Just a few random cars scattered in front of the other businesses. He recognized his sister’s car, parked in front of the office, but he didn’t see another one close to hers.

He didn’t want to have to drive her home…that made it seem even more like a date.

A taxi, then. He’d get her into a damn taxi, or hell, Caleb would probably have cars there.

Yeah. He could get her into a car once the night was over with.

Then he’d head out to Blue’s. Blue usually preferred that people wanting the…more private services contact her in advance, but she’d work something out. Distracted, thinking about that, he pushed through the door, thinking about maybe trying to put in a call to her before he even left Shera’s. He needed to do something, right? He was edgy as hell and the only way to burn this kind of energy off was—

His brain just stopped.

He caught sight of the woman standing with her back to him and his mind came to screeching, crashing halt. All the blood in his head slowly started to sizzle and burn. A long, sleek back, displayed in a backless, pale dress, leaving lots and lots of sexy, smooth skin… His heart bumped once, hard, against his ribs, as his gaze dipped, lingering on the narrow curve of her waist, the round swell of her ass, and then onto long, sleek, sleek legs…

Ah, maybe he wouldn’t be calling a car for her, after all.

Dragging his gaze up, he studied the back of her head and something started to click in the back of his mind. Dark hair, not quite black, shot through with lighter threads… His heart started to race. He knew this woman.

She turned around and he found himself staring into Chaili’s blue eyes.

Marc had a fondness for her eyes. He didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe it was because they were blue, and such a vivid blue they almost looked purple to his screwy eyesight. He didn’t know why. Didn’t care. He just knew she had amazing eyes.

It was a punch. A hard, brutal punch straight to his gut and he closed one hand into a fist as he continued to stare at her. Okay. She wasn’t here for him. Chaili wasn’t one of his sister’s girls. She had something else going on… Then it occurred to him—Shera had absently mentioned setting up a line of male companions. Was Chaili…?

No.

Just. No. Even thinking about her paying some guy to take her out pissed him off.

What the heck—

Shera appeared from the back office. “Hey, Marc.” She had a smile on her face. An overly bright one. The kind of smile she’d always given him when she’d done something she shouldn’t have and she wanted him to help keep her out of trouble with Mom. Except she was a grown woman.

Oh, crap.

Swinging his gaze back and forth between the two women, he lifted a brow and waited.

“Awesome news.” Shera still had that wide, too-bright smile plastered across her face. “Chaili is going to keep you company tonight.”
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BLADE SONG by J.C. Daniels

BLADE SONG by J.C. Daniels

The Colbana Files

Kit Colbana—half breed, assassin, thief, jack of all trades—has a new job: track down the missing ward of one of the local alpha shapeshifters. It should be a piece of cake.

So why is she so nervous? It probably has something to do with the insanity that happens when you deal with shifters—especially sexy ones who come bearing promises of easy jobs and easier money.

Or maybe it’s all the other missing kids that Kit discovers while working the case, or the way her gut keeps screaming she’s gotten in over her head. Or maybe it’s because if she fails—she’s dead.

If she can stay just one step ahead, she should be okay. Maybe she’ll even live long to collect her fee…

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~Excerpt~

Two hours.

No luck.

And it was getting dark.

As we cut back up the street, I had to admit that Keeli, whoever she was, just didn’t want to be found.

Okay.

Maybe we’d try to come back—

“Hey.”

I heard the low, wasted rasp of a voice and looked down the alley.

Damon caught my arm.

I stopped and glanced at him. I wasn’t an idiot.

Popping my wrist, I turned to the sound of the voice and waited.

A shadow moved. “Hear you’re looking for Keeli.”

“You’ve got good ears.” Or you’ve just been in the area for the past few hours, I thought sourly.

The shadow crept closer. Light reflected off a man’s face before he eased back into the shadow.

“I can tell you where to find her…but it will cost you.”

Wow. What a surprise, that.

Fishing a bill out of my pocket, I knelt down on the ground and found a rock. I wrapped the bill around it and tossed it into the alley. “There.”

Silence stretched out. “That’ll do, kid. But…trust me. You don’t want me shouting this news.
You’re looking for news on the Alpha’s boy, right?”

Damon tensed at my back.

“What do you know?” I asked, staring into the alley.

I could see him.

Dirty face. Young. Grimy.

He smiled at me.

“I know all sorts of things, girl,” he murmured.

My skin crawled, but if he knew something…

I slid Damon another look. His eyes were glowing. His hand gripped my arm. But when I stepped forward, he was right there by me.

They went for him first.

Through the roar of blood in my ears, I heard Damon swearing. That was kind of funny. There were four of them and he was cussing them out?

But then one of them howled… A death scream. One that made the skin on my nape crawl as I slashed through the air with my blade.

She was made like a rapier, but heavier. I could hack away for hours if I had to, and the fool in front of me was bleeding from more cuts than even I could count; he was either too weak or too underfed to heal them well. He made another lunge at me and I drove the blade through his heart, twisting it and jerking upward. Skin smoked as it met the silver and I watched as the life in his eyes faded.

Jerking my blade free, I turned, braced for another attack.

All I saw was Damon. Walking toward me with blood dripping off him, falling in fat drops from his fingers.

“Show off,” I muttered.

A flash of white appeared in his face. I almost thought he was smiling.

But that faint smile was gone in another second as shadows came rushing at us from all around.
I found myself shoved to the ground.

There was a rumbling sound—something I couldn’t identify.

And another sound—one I could.

The ground was shaking, I thought. As I pushed up onto my elbows, I saw a giant shape rushing into the alley.

Goliath.

Hell was about to break loose.

Then a cat roared and I heard somebody scream. Maybe it already had.

As the fighting raged over my head, I rolled to the side and flexed my wrist. My blade was gone. I managed to get my back to the wall of the busted, broken building behind me, using it for support and shadow as I surveyed the mess in front of me.

Five, six, seven—yeah. Seven scraggly wolves fighting Goliath and Damon. The wolves had shifted. Damon and Goliath hadn’t. Two wolves were trying to take Goliath down and he casually caught one, ripped its head off. My gut went a little queasy at the sight.

The second one didn’t fare much better.

Damon wasn’t quite so casual.

Quick, brutal.

But for every one they took down, several more came crawling out of the shadows.

What the hell—

Panting for breath, I flexed my wrist and called my blade.

Off to the side, I heard a snarl.

The wolf came for me just as I turned to face it.

I never even got my blade up.

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VEIL OF SHADOWS by Shiloh Walker

From an author known for her "romantic spine tinglers" comes the thrilling follow-up to Through the Veil, featuring a beautiful captain who's lost her magic - and the stranger who will either be her great love, or her greatest enemy...

VEIL OF SHADOWS by Shiloh Walker

With demons running amok throughout the forests and mountains, a rebel army has been established to win back the land - and a new soldier has appeared out of nowhere to join them.

His name is Xan, and his past is a mystery to everyone, including Laisyn Caar - a beautiful captain in the rebel army - who is shocked by the powerful, all-consuming desire she feels in his presence.

But now isn’t the time for distraction. The future of her land - and of her people - is in her hands. On top of that, she's been stripped of her magic - and without it she feels like part of her soul has been stolen away.

But when she discovers the dark secrets of Xan's agenda, it will be up to her to determine whether the man she's starting to love is a friend of her people - or a dreaded enemy...


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Excerpt:

“You playing today?” Kalen asked.

Syn lifted a shoulder. “Unless you plan to.”

Bron went flying passed them—literally. He landed with an oomph and lay there for a few seconds, a dazed look in his eyes. His lean face went red as he tried to breathe.

Syn and Kalen grinned at each other. Then Kalen said, “I’ll pass. Lee and I are doing some hand-to-hand tonight. I’d rather not start off injured. I’ll let you have the fun today.”

“Coward.” Syn clucked her tongue. She watched, gauging the distance, as Xan started towards Bron. As he offered a hand to the other man, Syn moved.

She went for his feet and as he went down, she slid away.

It was like hitting a brick wall, she decided. A heated brick wall. She was so used to being cold, but the moment she touched him, even though her touch was an attack and not a caress, his heat chased away the chill and left her entire body suffused with warmth.

He was outweighed her, outreached her, and stood nearly a head taller than she did. Which pretty much described every sparring partner she’d ever had.

That unreadable gaze of his didn’t change, but she sensed some surprise coming off him as he came to his feet. Bron was up, too, and he moved so that he stood just a little behind Syn and off to the side. It was a choreographed move—they’d done this a thousand times and they’d do it a thousand more.

“So now it is two on one,” Xan said, his voice emotionless.

“It can be a lot of fun.” Syn flashed him a cheeky smile, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet. Her heart was racing. Her skin felt warm, edging close to hot as she waited.

Xan didn’t make a move towards her, even though she stood the closest. He circled around, trying to make for Bron. Even after he had Bron back down, he didn’t engage with her. Syn lifted a brow and asked, “You do have a second opponent you have to take down.”

“I’m not putting a woman on the ground.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t the first time she’d been told that and she’d handle it the same way she handled it every other time. The cold knot tried to settle back inside her, but it faded when she attacked him—when she touched him.

He deflected her next attack. And the next. Bron was back on his feet at that point, though and as he moved towards him, Syn went for another takedown. He went down and as he did, he tried to catch her feet.

She was prepared for him, though, springing away at just the last second. Xan got back on his feet and this time, the look he shot her seemed a little bit perturbed.

“You can either spar me straight-on, or I’ll keep coming at your back.”

“I’m not fighting with a woman.”

“Then get out,” she told him. She wasn’t touching him now and as she crossed her arms over her chest, the cold knot returned. “The gate’s that way. You can walk out now. If you move quickly enough, you can probably catch up to the convoy. But you don’t get to pick and choose your poison here, my friend. You do it my way or you hit the road.”

His eye narrowed on her face. “You sound very certain of that fact.”

“With good reason.”

With the exception of Xan and Syn, everybody turned to look at Kalen as he entered the circle. He stood a few inches taller than Xan. He wore cavinir—a light, form-fitting armor that clung to a hard, leanly muscled body.

Kalen had been born a warrior, forced to become a leader. At a time when he should have been dreaming about girls and dreading his impending adulthood, he’d been on the front line of their war.

He circled to stand in front of Xan, pinning the other man with a cool silvery gaze. “Nobody stays in my camp without proving they can hold their own. Nobody stays in my camp without showing they know how to handle themselves, without showing they know how to take orders. That includes training—you either spar Captain Caar, as ordered, or you get the hell out.”

“I don’t believe in harming women,” Xan growled.

"It’s not about harming women.” Syn moved between them and gave Kalen a narrow look. He inclined his head and fell back, letting her handle it. There was one thing she could rely on to chase away the chill, and that was anger. Right now, it flooded her and she welcomed it—welcomed it, channeled it.

Giving Xan a pointed stare, she said, “I’m not calling you on the floor to get hurt, Xan. Trust me, I don’t like pain, although I am used to it. But this isn’t about hurting me, hurting women. It’s called training—we all do it.”

“Then train women against women. Females are naturally weaker than males—the risk for injury to the woman is too high, even in training.”

“So this is about having a level playing field?” Syn snorted. “Sure, because we’re fighting a war where there’s always an excess of fairness.”

Xan stared at her, his black gaze unflinching. “I do not raise my hand to women.”

Syn smirked. “That’s a way of thinking that could end up with you getting hurt—in a serious way.” She glanced over his shoulder and her smile took on a decidedly devilish twist. “Bron, you’re out. Elina. Coryan.”

Elina Corsairs, long and lean, came at him from his right, a blur of movement. She was all speed and grace and as he moved to deflect her attack, the other woman came up behind him.

Coryan Holder stood at six feet and her body was nearly as broad as Xan’s. As he backed away from Elina, Coryan caught him in a wrestler’s hold and wrenched him off his feet. He went down and as one, the three women in the circle moved on him.

Elina ended up on her ass first. She would have moved back in but Syn caught her eye and shook her head.

Now facing Coryan and Syn, Xan grimaced. He looked between the two women, his gaze measuring.

Finally. Syn knew what sort of picture they presented. Coryan had the muscle mass to rival a man’s and her face was scarred, hardened from battle and years of a harsh life. Syn had faced that same hard life, and many of the same battles, but she was slender, not particularly tall and she looked…well, soft.

He’d go for Coryan next, she figured. Eliminate what he perceived as the biggest threat.
This wasn’t a new scenario for her. Too many of the men who wanted to join the rebellion showed up with preconceived notions—they were fighting a war against those that preyed on their females and having those females involved directly in the fight went against their baser instincts.

He feinted towards Coryan but at the last minute, he changed direction. Moving too damn fast, he came for Syn. Only one thing saved her—he wasn’t used to fighting somebody half his size. She darted away, relying on her flexibility and years of experience to evade him. It was close, though. She felt the disturbance in the air ripple against her flesh. He didn’t waste any time and came at her again, harder. Faster.

Syn took his legs out from under him, but he was prepared this time and when he went down, so did she. Trapped under his bigger body, she sucked air into her lungs.

Heat.

Once more, touching him flooded her with heat, heat that suffused every fiber of her being, chasing away the chill. For the briefest moment, they were close, close as lovers and she let herself revel in that heat, let herself feel his strength, feel all of him. But not enough…no where near enough.

Through their clothes, she could feel the heavy thud of his heart, beating so close to hers.
Then he spoke, and the spell shattered.

“This isn’t a fair fight,” he said in a monotone.

Working her hands in between them, she jabbed at his neck. He went red and gasped for air. As he went to shove away from her, she caught him between his legs with her knee.

It was utterly silent, save for the strange, choked sound he made deep in his throat as he rolled to the side. Syn came to her feet and stood over him.

“You’re damn right it’s not a fair fight,” she told him. “But then again, you can’t win a war, you can’t survive if you’re busy complaining about a fair fight.”

She moved to the edge of the circle, watching Xan from under her lashes. He recovered quick, rolling to his feet and watching her with a mix of disbelief and anger. The anger melted away, replaced by that same measuring gaze he’d focused on every other fighter he’d met in the circle.

About damn time.

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CRAZED HEARTS by SHILOH WALKER

He’s no fairy-tale prince. But he just may be the hero she needs.

CRAZED HEARTS by Shiloh Walker - Grimm’s Circle, Book 3

Ren has always danced along the fine line between being a little bit crazy and being overcome by a darkness that’s haunted him since his mortal days. As an empath, he prefers to live far from people who would leak their emotions all over him, so he’s not expecting the woman who drives right into the heart of his wood. She has a cursed book with her and demons hot on her heels. Even more surprising are her abilities and the reaction Ren has to her.

Aileas is on the run. She just isn’t certain if she’s running from something real or imagined. One thing is for sure, her brother is dead and she’s certain the book she found has something to do with his death. She really starts to doubt her sanity when she meets a hot but somewhat crazed man in the middle of nowhere.

He calls himself Ren, and although he doesn’t seem to be out to hurt her, he definitely seems to want something. She just doesn’t understand what. She does know what she wants though. She wants him, and the shadows and darkness she glimpses inside him don’t matter. At least, right up until he claims to be a guardian angel.And she thought she was going crazy.

Product Warnings - This title contains soul-sucking demons, kick-ass angels and a hero who is a little crazy and a whole lot sexy.

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Excerpt:



Reaching for the corkscrew, he opened the bottle of wine and poured her a glass. From the corner of his eye, he saw her rubbing at her head, frowning. Through the low-level shields he kept up, he could feel her vague unease. Wondering now if she had hit her head—despite the fact that she was actually very convinced she hadn’t—if she did have a head injury, and if she should be drinking the wine.

He sighed and lowered his shields. It had been years, decades…longer, since he’d attempted to use his gift on any mortal. But she couldn’t be running off on him. He’d have to stop her and that would frighten her more. She couldn’t leave his home tonight. Too much danger in the woods. And although he had it under control, his temper was balanced on a hair trigger tonight. He didn’t need to tangle with her and risk setting it off.

As he poured the wine, he took a deep, slow breath and centered himself. He’d need to touch her.

A quick touch, make sure she was open. Should be, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to feel this much from her.

As long as she was open, he could plant a gentle, easy suggestion for her to relax. Trust him. Rest through the night. It would be quick and easy, nothing he couldn’t handle. He might not use his gift, but they’d seen to it that he was trained. That was one thing he hadn’t had much choice with. Calming a tired, nervous woman who already looked exhausted wouldn’t take that much, surely.

Come morning, he’d get her pretty ass out of these woods and figure out how to handle the demons who’d set themselves on her tail.

He had a score to settle with them anyway.

Setting the wine bottle aside, he turned and gave Aileas a small smile. Easy. The one he used when he was dealing with his animals, or the few times he had to handle children. Not the crazy, just-this-side-of-maniacal smile that had made grown men piss in their pants.

“Your wine,” he said, strolling over to her. He handed it to her and casually, easy as you please, he hooked his arm through hers, guiding her to the table. “Why don’t you sit in here a bit, keep me company while I cook? Not too often I have company, you know…”

As he spoke, he pushed. Oh, she was open.

And holy fuck, the pain inside her. It screamed at him. A loss, like a bloody, gaping hole. Fear, gnawing and deep. Determination. He also sensed that taint he’d felt earlier. But it was light, just hovering on the surface…like the book had been trying to sink its evil inside her. It clung to her skin, but it couldn’t get any deeper.

Her soul…it was strong.

It called to him too, damn it. The same way her eyes did.

Ignoring that deep, relentless tug, Ren planted a suggestion, buried it inside her heart. You can relax here. You are safe. You can sleep and nothing, nobody, no thing shall harm you. I will keep you safe.

Her subconscious resisted. You can’t.

She hadn’t felt safe in a long, long time.

I can, he promised. He wanted to do more than that, actually. He wanted to cuddle her close, run his hands through that silken, dark hair and promise her all sorts of nonsense…not just that he could and would protect her, but more. So much more.

Mentally, he jerked himself back, slightly stunned at the path his thoughts were taking.
Getting a little off tangent there, mate, he told himself. Way off tangent. He just needed her calm. And asleep. So she didn’t rabbit on him. That was all.

But he didn’t believe it. Not even for a second.

You are safe, he whispered inside her heart again. Safe, I swear on my soul.

Then he retreated. It was the best he could, he told himself.

Retreating, pulling away from her, it was something he did not want to.

Only seconds had passed.

When he looked into her eyes, he gave her a smile and pulled out the chair, let her sit.

Just seconds. Mere seconds.

Yet, as he moved to the counter to work on dinner, the ground beneath him no longer felt quite so…steady.


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NEVER AS IT SEEMS by Shiloh Walker

NEVER AS IT SEEMS by Shiloh Walker

Three years after he walked away and broke her heart, Leo is back in Chloe's life and that's the last place she wants him. Not that she has any choice in the matter. She's in big trouble. She needs somebody to watch her back, and he's the "somebody".

Three years ago, Chloe dumped a bombshell in Leo's lap. I'm psychic, she told him. As if he was supposed to believe that. His world is black and white, and he doesn't buy into that mumbo-jumbo. Walking away from her damn near killed him, but he couldn't be with somebody he couldn't trust.

His new job? Keep Chloe safe. That's it. He's not supposed to touch her. He's not supposed to make love to her. He's not supposed to want her...need her...love her. But he can't stop thinking about her, can't stop dreaming about her. Now that she's back in his life, he can't keep his hands off her either.

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EXCERPT:

Swearing, he tried to remind himself where he was. Why he was here.

Who he was with.

But that didn’t help.

This was Chloe and she’d always been his weakness.

“Chloe,” he muttered.

She dragged her lashes up and the sultry, female hunger he saw there laid him low.

Groaning, he dipped his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

Three years. Three long, aching, empty years.

She kept her mouth closed, kept her hands clenched in fists at her sides.

Growling, he licked the seam of her lips, nuzzling them.

She whimpered. Her body swayed against his. Her hands came up, still clenched into tight fists, and rested against his chest. He could feel the heat of them through his shirt and he wanted her to open those hands, smooth them down his chest, all over his body, really. Wanted to feel them unzipping his jeans, slipping inside and closing over his cock.

Just the thought was enough to make his cock jerk in response. Make him grit his teeth and snarl a curse against her lips. Lifting his head, he stared at her through slitted eyes. Fisting a hand in her hair, he tugged on the short, silky strands and muttered, “Open for me, sweet girl. I’m dying to taste you.”

Chloe shuddered.

Her lashes lifted and he found himself staring into eyes that burned hot, hungry…and all too clear, despite that hunger. “This isn’t smart, Leo. We both know that.” Her voice was whiskey rough, shaky with need.

“So the fuck what?” He couldn’t care less about being smart. He cared about the fact that she was here. With him again, after three years. He crowded against her until she was against the railing and then he leaned into her, shuddering as her soft, slender body cradled his. Fuck, she felt so right.

So perfect.

She’d always felt so fucking right.

So how had everything gone so wrong?
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