Résultats de "Lillian Lark" dans Toutes les catégories

Especially a matchmaker who works at the kind of paranormal bathhouse that would have grandmothers clutching their pearls. A worse look is a matchmaker experiencing a crisis of confidence. I am that matchmaker.

Getting lost in the woods was not the adventure Amy had in mind when she jumped at the chance to search for the local lake monster. She just wanted to liven up her steady but boring life, not wonder if every shadow on the ground is a snake and worry that no one will ever find her.

Belinda loves curse breaking. When a man shows up at her shop asking for help, she’s delighted to assist. Who wouldn’t help their fated mate after all? Things go from bad to worse and now she’s left on the rebound. Perhaps riding the local lake monster through his heat will be enough to patch up her wounded soul and get her life out of the rut it’s fallen in. Getting lost in the woods on the way to her date was not a part of the plan. What also isn’t a part of the plan?

A thief doing a final job and the dragon caught in a precarious situation that changes both of their lives. He’s powerful and wealthy and he hates me. But I have something he wants. It wasn’t a part of the plan. I’m the thief stupid enough to break into a dragon’s hoard… and walk away pregnant with his baby.

My family has always found me lacking. From the way I dress, how I look, to the type of magic I have. My family name is full of pomp and prestige, and I want nothing to do with it. I’m a witch that knows how to set a goal and I have one in mind. I want a real family. It seems too good to be true that I can give the list of traits I want in a partner and have my deepest desire answered, but I’m out of options. From the very first moment I meet Elliot Bramblewick, I have hope. But he’s tricky. I’m not expecting him to be hiding two other mates.

I’ve been cursed. Not metaphorically. Not, “Oh no! I spilled my coffee!” or “I broke a heel!” No. I’ve been cursed by a book and now I’m a danger to everyone I care about.

Crime scene to crime scene I go, interview upon interview I question, and it all yields nothing but more questions, more media attention, and the sound of a voice on the phone. A voice that haunts me late into the night with a yearning to taste the forbidden. The man the media calls the "Vigilante" is supposed to be my prey, but instead we dance. Every possible step closer, he evades. Only his faceless taunts close the distance between us. I can barely catch my breath. Then the copycat killings begin, and I struggle to hold my grip on the truth.