Baked Inn Love, an all-new friends-to-lovers fake-marriage romance full of heat and swoon from bestselling author Erin Branscom is live now!
Single mom Allie’s only bright light is her son, four-year-old Caleb. When Allie is fired from her job, and Caleb’s previously absent father returns to fight for custody, she knows it’s time to leave San Diego. To get closer to her support systems, she needs to move across the country to her family inn in Freedom Valley, New Hampshire. Enter Logan Nolan, a handsome Canadian literary agent. When a good friend begs him to help bring Allie and Caleb home, he can’t say no. During the road trip, Allie and Logan realize they have something to offer each other: A marriage of convenience.
Before they know it, Allie and Logan live as a family in Freedom Valley. Allie, a passionate baker, starts her own business, and Logan learns how to balance his career with his new pretend family. Logan never saw himself as a family man, but as he spends more time with Allie and Caleb, he begins to rethink his views. Allie has always gotten by on her own, but with Logan around, she’s starting to wish her marriage was real, especially as Caleb’s father’s efforts to take his son intensify. Can Allie and Logan give in to their true feelings and turn make-believe into something real?
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Excerpt
“I feel like royalty staying in a place this incredible,” I tell Logan.
He stands up and as he walks to the door, I notice he’s dressed comfortably like me, in blue jeans and his “I Love Hot Moms” t-shirt, wearing Nikes and a New York Yankees hat. He looks so good my heart skips a beat.
All I can think about is seeing him without his shirt on. Those muscles. So many muscles. Like, more than a human male should have. My mind wanders to what it would feel like to trace them with my fingertip. With both of us lying naked in bed. Just after the hottest sex either of us has ever had…
I shake myself back to reality. We have a mission, and sex is not on the agenda.
“What are you shaking your head at?” he asks. My mind races and I start to stall by grabbing my bags when my eyes land on his hat. “Well, first, I know you lived in New York previously, so that’s probably why you are making the unfortunate mistake of wearing that Yankee’s hat. But, being that you’re now living in the land of the Red Sox, we’ll have to add a new hat to our shopping list.”
Good catch, Allie. Phew.
“Oh, and nice shirt.” I smirk.
Logan looks at me and chuckles. “Let’s see how many people look at me and laugh today.”
“This is serious, Logan. Does Evan know you’re a Yankees fan? He won’t be happy about this,” I tease, trailing behind him with my bags. “At this point, I’ll have to offer you my protection on the streets of Boston if you continue to wear that hat around town. You know how Bostonians are… Very serious about their baseball. You’re not safe.” I shrug my shoulders at him.
I don’t miss the playful eyeroll Logan gives me. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
I laugh. “Right, we’ll see how that pans out for you.”
About Erin Branscom
Erin Branscom has read everything she can get her hands on for as long as she can remember. To this day, her favorite place is still the library. In 2021, after a decade of writing novels just for fun, she finally decided to finish a book series and has found writing novels to be her greatest escape. Erin is a passionate author’s advocate and host of the highly popular My Level 10 Life podcast on Amazon Live, where she interviews authors live every week. She lives in Oklahoma and loves traveling and spending time with her husband, four kids, and best friend Molly, a Boston Terrier mix.
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Vicious Games, the gripping conclusion in The Dark Obsession Duet from USA Today bestselling author Zoe Blake is available now!
I have taken everything from her.
She has no friends.
No money.
No one to turn to for help.
She's finally under my complete control, and yet, it's not enough.
I hold her body captive, but not her heart.
She knows I destroyed her life to possess her, so she fights me at every turn.
But she hasn't guessed the true purpose of my game.
She needs to understand that I will do anything to win. Anything.
She is my possession. Nothing, and no one, not even her, will keep us apart.
If she denies me much longer, she will learn just how vicious I can become when I don't get what I want.
And I want her... all of her.
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Start the duet with Cruel Games today→ https://mybook.to/cruelgames
Excerpt
Aurora
Something was wrong.
As my brain clawed its way back to consciousness, my body stiffened, a primal reaction to danger. I could feel it, sense it. I stilled. I just knew… something was wrong.
I tried to open my eyes, but groaned when the bright sunlight sent a stab of pain straight to my temples. I threw my elbow over my eyes as I focused on taking a deep breath to quell the nausea which rose against the back of my throat.
My lungs tried to expand, but a clinging pressure restricted them. I flattened my hand on the center of my chest. Intricate beading and what felt like stiffened lace scratched my palm.
What the hell?
The dress I'd had on earlier was fashioned of soft silk.
I rose on my elbows and stared down the length of my body.
Is that blood?
I tried to swing my legs over the side of the bed, but my feet got caught in the voluminous skirts of the dress I now wore. I tumbled over the edge of the mattress, landing painfully on my hands and knees. Flecks of crimson marred the pale back of my right hand. Scrambling to my feet, I ignored the twinge of pain in my knee as I hobbled across Roman’s bedroom to the dressing room. I swung the door open and crossed to the floor-length mirror at the other end.
My mouth dropped open in shocked horror.
I raised my fingertips to the dress bodice as if I needed to feel it to know this was real. My gaze traveled over my body, taking in each unfamiliar detail of the dress I wore. The top was a tightly laced silk corset with cream lace and crystal beads in an elaborate floral pattern. I swiveled my hips to stare at the back in the mirror. There were reams of gathered silk where a large bustle would go, ending in a small train.
It was a beautiful Victorian-looking wedding gown.
The problem was, it wasn’t my dress. This one was the same color as the one I last remembered wearing, but it was different. I had never seen it before in my life.
It was also covered in blood splatter along the right side.
As I tried to come to grips with my mounting terror, I stared at my haunted reflection. My cheeks looked pale and sunken in. My eyes were rimmed with red, as if I had been crying. Red lipstick was smeared across my lips, which mirrored, in a macabre way, the mascara stains under my eyes.
My breath rising in panic, I shoved my fingers into my tangled hair. I hissed as a sharp sting had me wrenching my hand back. There was a thin cut down the center of my right palm, and a small droplet of blood clung to the skin. Furrowing my brow, I gingerly dug into my wild nest of hair and yanked free the remnants of what had probably been a floral head wreath. The delicate white orange blossom petals were crushed and bruised. A sharp wire poked out from behind the ivory ribbon which had been wrapped around the head wreath. Its end was stained with my blood.
With a cry, I hurled the crushed flower wreath across the room.
I grabbed at the bodice, trying to wrench it off me. It was too tightly secured. Reaching behind my back, I desperately searched for a clasp, a button, a corset string, anything to loosen the dress. After several minutes of trying, I sank to my knees in front of the mirror. My chest was covered in scratches from where I'd tried to claw the bodice off.
Why couldn’t I remember putting on this dress?
Why couldn’t I remember anything?
And whose blood was this?
I could already tell it wasn’t mine. I had no visible injuries.
There wasn’t a lot of blood. It was just hundreds of tiny drops, as if someone had flicked a paintbrush full of red paint at me. Except it wasn’t paint. I knew the smell of blood. I had smelled the coppery harbinger of death right before finding my mother and stepfather dead. The memory of that scent never left you.
The only sound in the dressing room was my labored and erratic breathing.
There was, of course, one question I hadn’t asked yet… Where was Roman?
Oh God.
I wrapped my arms around my waist and rocked back and forth.
Why couldn’t I remember?
What the hell had happened to me?
What had I done?
I placed my hands over my face. Think. I had to think. I had no complete memory of the last twenty-four hours, just flashes of color and unknown faces. Fear. I remembered feeling afraid and confused. Then nothing. As if someone had wiped my mind blank. What if it wasn’t that I couldn’t remember but that my mind didn’t want me to remember? I'd read about the mind protecting itself from traumatic memories by refusing to recall them.
What had I done?
I stared at the wrinkled and bloodied wedding dress. It seemed oddly familiar, and yet I couldn’t imagine why. I'd think I would remember willingly wearing a freaking Victorian wedding gown.
Think!
Nothing was going to come to me kneeling on the floor. I needed to get out of this awful dress and wash the blood off. Maybe then it would all come back to me. I ran my hands over my upper arms as a shiver wracked my body. That was, if I wanted to remember.
I wrapped my left hand around a drawer handle and used it to pull myself upright. I then searched the other drawers for a pair of scissors. My only option was to somehow cut my way out of the dress. I found a pair of large, silver, lethal-looking shears.
Just as I was about to thrust the opened blades between my breasts to cut the silk corset, I heard a sound behind me.
I turned, gripping the shears like a weapon and raising them high.
Roman stood in the doorway. His chest was bare. He was holding what looked like a wadded up white dress shirt soaked in blood over his shoulder.
I gasped. “What happened?”
His eyes narrowed. “You shot me. And on our wedding day, no less.”
About Zoe
USA Today bestselling author Zoe Blake, delights in writing Dark Romance books filled with overly-possessive Billionaires, Taboo scenes and Unexpected twists.
She usually spends her ill-gotten gains on martinis, travel and red lipstick. Since she can barely boil water, she’s lucky enough to be married
to a sexy Chef.
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Website: https://www.zblakebooks.com/
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