Your Alien Mafia Boyfriends Have Arrived
Greetings from the Multiverse!
Can one human woman seduce the most powerful males in the galaxy? I'm about to find out.
When the Aelyd mafia took my best friend, I decided to go looking for her. These aliens have been looking for brides - for vessels - and I know she must be in trouble.
Now I've found myself entangled with three alien crimelords, all of whom want me as their mate.
Keon, the Deviant Prince of the Ganivet Family.
Atlas, the Ganivet Boss, known as the Untouchable Man.
And Corvus, the stoic, deadly assassin playing them both.
I'll have to tread carefully to trap these men in my web, but I'll do it using my wits, my charm, and my body.
And hopefully I won't get caught myself.
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Featured Reads
Anthologies Galore!
I’m participating in a bunch of anthologies this year after going a little anthology crazy, but this is one of those I’m most excited about. Why?
Because we’re going back to the world of my space vikings, the Skoll.
Warlord and the Waif was my first big release, and I’m so thrilled to announce that I’ll be releasing a series of alien romance novellas featuring the Skoll invasion of Earth. The first official book in the series will be Mated for Midsummer, featured in the Aliens on Earth anthology.
You can also find the Skoll in a sooner anthology!
Free Romance!
This Week’s Steamy Snippet: All Tied Up
from Veiled in Shadow
Atlas is touching me.
He flattens his hand against the small of my back, then it slides upward, pushing me forward. The restraints tug on my wrists, but this is a stretch I’m used to—and it actually feels kind of good on my shoulders, though I’m sure it will ache soon. Atlas’ hand is big and rough, his palm scraping between my shoulder blades.
It’s enough to make my whole body shake, and I let out a whimper.
“Are you comfortable, wife?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.
“I’m fantastic,” I breathe.
He pulls his hand away, much to my disappointment, but then circles around in front of me. I can’t see his face; the way I’m bent forward and suspended, I can’t quite crane my neck high enough to catch sight of him. All I can see is the tent in his slacks where he’s clearly hard, the shimmering silver skin of his lower abdomen…and so close I could lick it. And I want to. Fuck, I really, really want to. I want to worship this man with my mouth, suck him off like a god deserves.
But I wait for his orders instead, because he’s in charge here.
For now, at least.
I see his big hand lift, then it goes out of reach. I suck in a breath when I feel his fingers in my hair, taking a handful of platinum strands and pulling hard. I hear someone gasp, and at first I think it’s me—but I soon realize it’s him.
Even this little bit of foreplay is arousing, his cock straining against his pants.
I remind myself that he hasn’t been touched in over a decade.
“How can I make you feel good?” I ask, my mouth dry as sandpaper. “What do you want from me?”
He lets out a heavy breath, then turns away, releasing me—taking a break. This is going to be harder than I thought; for some reason, I assumed he would give in almost right away once he’d chosen to do this, but he seems to be nervous.
He keeps surprising me…and he keeps making it harder to imagine assassinating him.
“Do you like to be called a good girl, wife?” he asks, his voice low as he moves to the cabinet on the wall. I watch him with my limited field of view, though I can make him out clearly now. I’ve never actually seen him shirtless until we went for our swim, and I’m able to get a better look in this moment. He’s covered in those iridescent scales, his muscles hulking—as I knew they would be.
But what surprises me is the scars.
Long, thick bands of scar tissue crisscross his back—clear signs of being lashed until he bled. I want to ask about it, but I keep my mouth sealed shut, knowing this isn’t the time. He’s already vulnerable.
And I don’t want to feel any more for him than I already do.
Right?
“I like to be good,” I rasp out. “But you can call me whatever you like.”
“You like to be praised when you behave,” he observes. He opens his cabinet, and fiddles with something inside. I don’t know what he’s messing with, but I’m looking forward to finding out. “I can do that.”
“Do you have something you want to be called?” I ask. Every other time I’ve done this, it’s been with a human, and there have been rules on both sides, agreements established ahead of time. This is far from orthodox, especially when I have no idea if the Aelyds even have BDSM. “I want to make you happy.”
“Husband,” he says. “It’s the most honored title I possess.”