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City at the Edge of Time

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Stuck at the very end of time.

If you love gritty dark fantasy, epic mythical battles, and ancient gods interfering with mortals, you need to check out City at the Edge of Time by Janet and Chris Morris!


City at the Edge of Time

Sacred Band Series Book 5

by Janet & Chris Morris

Genre: Epic Heroic Fantasy Adventure



“An exciting and brilliantly colored sortie . . .” – David Drake

Join Tempus and Niko on the triple shores of land, sea, and eternity . . .
Where a young girl trembles between love and sorcerous obsession . . .
Where a prince’s refusal to admit his flaws makes him a pawn of hell . . .
Where a city of immortals learn that Death has not forgotten it . . .
In the catacombs beneath a warlock’s citadel, swords and courage face the jaws of demons — with a girl’s life and a god’s vengeance resting on the outcome.

 

Amazon * B&N * Bookbub * Goodreads

 



A red cloud rising out of the east was borne seaward on a hungry wind that howled like a devil. It was a hot cloud, a wet cloud full of the promise of rain, and yet it shed no drop on the forest below. It spread across the wilderness without end, a cloud like a funnel, a cloud like a waterspout turned on its side.

It crossed the scorched earth between the forest and the city on the coast, low to the ground and howling. Then it arched up like a striking snake, a hissing serpent that ate the sky and reared high over the city’s walls.

By then no one walked the city streets. Everywhere the city’s folk had fled indoors, even from the courtyards of the king. No peltast stirred on the battlements; no sentry held his ground. From within the walls of the palace, men peered out through slits at the unnatural red storm.

Women held each other in their boudoirs, and children sheltered under mothers’ skirts. Noise went everywhere, carried on a wet and flailing wind that made hairs stand up on arms and necks and dogs scramble under sturdy beds to whine.

Macon was in his father’s stables with his sister Tabet when the maelstrom started; and there he stayed, working with the grooms to calm the horses, lest one break a leg rearing and kicking. Among horses, as men, hysteria travels fast.




Don’t miss the rest of the Sacred Band Series!

The Sacred Band of Stepsons series is Homeric and heroic fiction following the exploits of an ancient cavalry unit modeled on the Sacred Band of Thebes. Deftly mixing history, myth, and fantasy, Morris’ Sacred Band of Stepsons live and die in a world where gods are real and magic works — sometimes.

Morris’ accursed cavalry commander, Tempus, first appeared Sacred Band first appeared in the million-selling Thieves’ world shared-universe in 1981. Subsequently, Janet Morris, first alone and subsequently with her husband Chris Morris, take the Sacred Band into their own series of novels, set in the fourth century BCE. Passionate, gritty, lyrical prose and unforgettable characters make this series. Perseid Press Sacred Band novels includes the “Author’s Cut” of the Beyond Sanctuary Trilogy and Tempus, as well as the epic novel The Sacred Band, and The Fish the Fighters and the Song-girl.

 

Find them at Perseid Press



Best selling author Janet Morris began writing in 1976 and published more than 30 novels, many co-authored with her husband Chris Morris or others. Most of her fiction work was in the fantasy and science fiction genres, although she also wrote historical and other novels. Morris either wrote, contributed to, or edited several book-length works of non-fiction, as well as papers and articles on nonlethal weapons, developmental military technology and other defense and national security topics.

 

Christopher Crosby Morris (born 1946) is an American author of fiction and non-fiction, as well as a lyricist, musical composer, and singer-songwriter. He is married to author Janet Morris. He is a defense policy and strategy analyst and a principal in M2 Technologies, Inc. He writes primarily as Chris Morris, but occasionally uses pseudonyms.

 

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Bookbub

 Amazon * Amazon *  Goodreads * Goodreads

 


Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!


Enter the City at the Edge of Time Giveaway Here


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Camp Shifter

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Camp Shifter series
DJ Jennings
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Welcome to Camp Shifter, where one mysterious letter changes everything. Hidden from the human world, Camp Shifter helps newly awakened shifters navigate their new lives—and discover the fated mates destiny has chosen for them. Filled with irresistible attraction, laugh-out-loud moments, emotional journeys, and steamy romance, these stories feature bears, wolves, owls, and other shifters finding love when they least expect it. From enemies-to-lovers and rejected mates to second chances and insta-love, the Camp Shifter Series delivers heart, humor, passion, and happily-ever-afters in a world where fate always has a plan—and love changes everything.

Goodreads / Amazon

Now on Kindle Unlimited!


Author Bio:

The author of the Camp Shifter series, Darla Josephine “DJ” Jennings, is originally from Ohio but now lives in Massachusetts in a household full of people who drive her nuts, but she loves them anyhow. She fills her days with writing, business management, and the never-ending task of herding cats.

Learn more about her in the New York Times bestselling novel, Random Acts of Crazy by Julia Kent, where she stars as one of the main characters. That’s right! DJ Jennings isn’t real, but Julia Kent sure is. 🙂

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram


GIVEAWAY!

Camp Shifter Series Blitz

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In the Wake of Gods

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In the Wake of Gods

The Abyss Borne Gods Book 2

by Kent Priore

Genre: Epic Dark Fantasy



“Kent Priore writes like a natural about the supernatural. American fiction has found a terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland

Standing amidst the destruction of Magistrum, great sorrow and guilt weighs upon Seth as he keeps the memory of his mistake close—to continue his growth, to remain good. A concern which lingers through the birth of his daughter, Persephone, labeled a True Born God by the personification of the White Abyss. And due to the sudden death of her uncle, Persephone’s abyssal powers emerge in a destructive way, tearing a hole through the fabric of the world. Thus, solidifying Seth’s worries of managing his own struggles while being father to a god who resembles his past far too much.

Feeling Persephone’s powerful aura pulsate through dimensions, both antagonistic forces begin pursuing her, wanting to eliminate a threat, and make her power theirs. Alongside these heavy stressors, Seth must also deal with the inevitability of Sasha dying the same mysterious way as the other Guild members.

The Earth devolves into a wasteland as the gods ravish the globe, devouring every human they can find. All the while Seth, Sasha, their daughter, and others lay in hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike back, to resist the will of the Abyssian gods—but can they without sacrificing everything they worked so hard to achieve? And will Seth, so burdened by his past actions, endure this, or will he devolve into the monster he once was…the monster he fears his daughter will also become?

Fans of “Jerusalem” by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath, or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters Among Us.”

 

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The pitch-black night splits apart as two dark clouds go their separate ways. A large full moon looms overhead, filtering its borrowed light through the open window of Persephone’s bedroom.

The young girl tosses and turns, with soft animalistic grunts emerging from her. Gritting her teeth, twitching, flitting about, she whimpers as a large weight festers like cancer within her. A multitude of pressures, cramping with tightness in her tiny chest. Aching for release. A god, trapped in the frame of a small girl.

Tremors ripple through her body, intensifying further and further, and—she screeches.

Persephone sits erect, her eyes closed, mouth agape. Breathing in deeply, her head arches back, her eyes peel open, and rays of white light shine out from her skull, as she begins sucking in a tremendous amount of air in one, unending gulp. The bright yellow moon distorts and wobbles and sways like water, and at one edge begins to spill into a bright golden river. Stretching further and further, like toothpaste through its tube. The stream descends toward the Earth, creating a glittering strand of moon dust, stretching across thousands and thousands of miles until reaching Persephone’s window, and spilling into her mouth—

“Persephone?” Seth bursts in. “What’s wro—”

Sasha follows in from behind, stricken in awe alongside him. “Persephone? Persephone!” she shouts, running over and throwing her arms around the girl.

Seth hurries over to the window, watching the stream of moon dust spill into his daughter’s mouth. Reaching toward the stretched-out moon, specks of dust displace from the stream, glittering its golden sheen around his fingertips. Looking out and up through the window, he finds the once full moon half dissolved, crumbled away like sand.

“What is happening?” Andes says, appearing in the doorway. Mikhail stands at his side, nuzzling his sleepy eyes with the back of his hands before waking to the commotion before him.

“She’s not responding!” Sasha says.

Seth rushes over. “That light…no, it’s happening again.” Sasha yanks her gaze toward Seth, alarmed. “It happened earlier today, while reading…this white glow—and this pressure. It’s the Abyss. No doubt.”

“My apologies,” Andes says, “But we have larger concerns at the moment. If she consumes the moon, its absence will devastate the Earth!”

Seth breathes in heavily. A doomsday event in the middle of the night. She’s my daughter, that’s for sure. “Clear the room!” he shouts, his eyes illuminated with white abyssal flame. “I’m going to try something.”

Sasha rises, inching away slowly. Her gaze locked too fiercely onto Persephone. Seth places a hand on her shoulder, gesturing with his head for her to step aside. A hollow sensation takes root in Sasha as she ambles over to Andes.

Seth hovers his right palm over Persephone’s face, curling his fingers in a circular motion. Hand shaking, the pull of the moon dust river is too severe, continuing its descent into the depths of Persephone—setting his entire body ablaze with white flame, Sasha and Andes feel a gravitation shift pulling toward Seth. Mikhail clings to Andes’s sleeve, fearing his feet would be swept up in the sudden, unnatural wind current rushing through their enclosed home. And though the fire is bright, it does not burn. It does not scorch nor warm.

The moon dust begins to retract. Rising from Persephone’s throat, she gargles and gags.

Seth’s eyes glow brighter, and a portal opens at the far end of the room, creating yet another gravitational pull. Beyond the portal lay a vast darkness, sprinkled with glimmering stars. Sasha, Andes, and Mikhail huddle together, clinging fiercely to the doorframe while Seth and Persephone’s abyssal weight holds them steady. The last of the moon dust ejects from her stomach, and the white glow of her eyes disappears. Waking up, she’s suddenly lifted into the air by the vacuum of space—she thuds against Seth’s big right arm, brought close to his side. With the flick of his left hand, the moon dust flings into the darkness, followed by a pillar of abyssal flame erupting from his palm. Gravity reverts to normal as the portal closes.

Rushing to the window, they find the wobbling moon slowly steadying itself. Aglow with abyssal flame, searing the fabric of the world back together, it reforms into the same bright full moon as before.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Andes says. Sasha stares in awe of Seth, but with an ever-deepening scowl sinking into her face.

“I had a hunch. The words she pulled from the book pages floated back into form once she snapped out of it. The abyssal flame was an added precaution.” Seth collapses onto Persephone’s bed. The young girl cocks her head in confusion at her father’s exhaustion.

Andes, noticing the looks on both parents, steps toward Persephone. “You two get some rest. I’ll tuck the youngsters back into bed.”

“You sure?” asks Sasha.

“Never more sure in my life! Now, go.”

Glancing tiredly at each other, Seth and Sasha hurry back to their room.

Andes pulls a chair up to the bed and takes the book he gave her years ago from the nearby nightstand. Mikhail hops into bed beside Persephone, both children content beneath the covers as Andes begins to read a story.

Persephone smiles widely toward her uncle. With no memory of what had just occurred, she relishes what’s to come. A story told by her loving uncle, her most favorite of things.




The Monsters Among Us

The Abyss Borne Gods Book 1



“Kent Priore writes like a natural about the supernatural, and The Monsters Among Us is a marvelously dark and true novel. American fiction has found a terrific new voice.”
—Joseph O’Neill, PEN/Faulkner Award-Winning Author of Netherland

Seth’s life until now has been a product of a diabolical, evil Truman Show, his entire upbringing a façade orchestrated for malevolent purposes. After his beloved dies, he undergoes a demonic metamorphosis, which causes the world’s fictitious walls to crumble.

As he tries to piece a semblance of his life back together and move on, he meets friends who inspire, but even more harsh truths are revealed, perhaps too difficult to cope with.

The very existence of life and reality is exposed as a machination of grotesque gods. And to defeat them, Seth will have to fill his emptiness, for which there’s only two options…
Bring the world to ruin, or learn to transmute his pain into strength.

Fans of “Jerusalem” by Alan Moore, “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath, or “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakovor will enjoy “The Monsters Among Us.”

“I was intrigued from the first sentence, determined to spend the night speed-reading so I didn’t have to remain in suspense any longer.”
-Ella Dupuie, author of Fractures of the Fallen

“Supernatural storytelling at its best, this vivid cinematic novel takes the reader on an imaginative journey through what could be considered end of days. The Monster’s Among Us is a masterful creation and a must read—even for those who aren’t fans of fantasy/horror.”
—Joni Marie Iraci MFA author of Vatican Daughter

 

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  “You’ve been gifted with versatile magic. Fire can destroy, but it can also create. You are a forge that bellows with hellfire. Make use of it. I have found that magic is best used in creative and unprecedented ways. Even the dullest magic knows few limits. Magic does what the mind wills it to do.”

  I start to run after Gluttony. I keep the image of those poor kids in my mind. The rage in me intensifies. My new demon body in combination with my anger makes me fast, but not fast enough. I can still see Gluttony in the distance, but he’s leaving my field of view more with each passing second.

  My mind is coated red with the image of the flattened children. Like a shark who had just picked up the scent of blood, my adrenalin surges, and I can feel a manic fit overtaking me. My perception is flooded in a crazed haze. I feel limitless, as if I can do anything. This is a feeling I know well. I felt it when I decided to return home to Crowley and burn it all to the ground.

  Where’s that voice, huh? Not going to tell me to stop this time?

  {No.}

  Why not?

  There’s no answer.

  Whatever.

  With nothing to hold me back, I really am limitless. Instinct takes over. I conjure my flames, but not with the intent to attack. I stretch my arms behind me and point my hands straight back. Fire erupts from my palms, propelling me forward. I take flight at a much greater speed than my legs can reach. I hurtle through the air, struggling to maintain balance. Like a cannonball I blast my way through trees and homes alike. Planks of wood and support beams scatter about in chaos.

  I wonder about the people living in these homes. Are they safe? Have I killed them? I don’t care. I feel useful to Melphis for the first time, and my bloodlust is reaching glorious heights as Gluttony’s body grows larger in my view. We are passing the border into New Mexico at intense speeds. Before I know it, we have passed into Colorado, the foot of the Rocky Mountains in sight. He appears to slow down. What is he looking for here?

  He comes to an abrupt stop, pulling up the ground beneath his tentacles as he does so. I keep my speed and make my descent. I plummet hard upon his back. His tentacles give out, causing his large body to fall to the ground. A thundering crash shakes the surrounding space.

  “Who’s there?” Gluttony roars. “Wait, no—Greed? You smell like my brother!”

  For a dumb brute, he’s quick to piece things together. He rises, supporting himself with six of his eight tentacles. The other two pursue me. One slithers behind and wraps itself around me. The sludge-like tentacles are as strong as they are giant. I struggle but remain motionless. The heat rises again. I feel empty, but from that emptiness arises my rage which festers and grows ever more passionate. Flames overtake my body. I can feel the slime of his tentacles melting away, like sweat dripping off me.

    “Fuck you!” I roar. The blood-stained clothes of those helpless children rush back to me, then so do the memories of my own ruined childhood. The flames increase and grow hotter until the whole tentacle catches fire. It burns away at a fierce speed. Ashes flutter away as black sludge spills out from the now open hole in his hard shell. Gluttony roars and his tentacles squirm like a spider that has just been stepped on.

    I climb on top of his hard shell and beat down my fists with reckless abandon. It withstands my punches, at first. I can feel my strength rising alongside my rage until at last, cracks form. The fractures stretch wider with each punch. Gluttony moans as they grow deeper. Melphis called him a transporter. Just what is he protecting with this dense outer layer?

    My focus intensifies and locks onto the growing fissure in his shell. My mind goes blank. All that exists is this shell, the sensation of my knuckles bashing into it, and the white flashes of rough skin being blown away in shrouds of dust. He is mine—he’ll pay—I’ll make him pay—for those kids—for me—

    The back of my head is hit by a dense, wet object and I am knocked off the beast. My body shatters the trunks of a few trees as I make my descent.

    {Your lack of focus has made you blind to the monster’s many tentacles.}

    “Shut u—” I choke.

    Gluttony’s enormous face is now mere feet away from mine. My elation fades as I watch the skyscraper-devouring mouth open at its four hinges. A long snake-like tongue emerges out of utter darkness. It coils itself around my body before his teeth drop down, devouring me along with much of the landscape. I feel my body now coated in slime, as it slides down Gluttony’s throat. The darkness of the pit consumes me.



Graduated from Bard College with a BA in the Written Arts, Kent Priore is an author of dark literature, genre-blending epics and vignettes, where dark romanticism meets modern psychology for a macabre but hopeful depiction of inner struggle and the human ability to endure, and perhaps even prevail. He has a fascination with humanity and is one of the few to believe that despite our many weaknesses, we are far stronger than we often think. He wishes to show that strength to those darker individuals, burdened by lonesomeness, poor mental health, and other forces perceived to be out of their control, as well as show them that all is not lost.

 

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!


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Makerborn

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Makerborn
Daymon Ashcord
(Maladies of Empire, )
Publication date: June 15th 2026
Genres: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy

The God War is over. An empire built on suffering, slavery, and betrayal remains…

In the fractured lands of the Salvian Empire, the Great Houses rule through blood and fear. For years, Alandra Phoenyka has hunted powerful Sonomancers in the empire’s name, paid in empty promises that her stolen daughter would be returned. Each step forward demands another compromise. Another betrayal. Another piece of herself lost.

When those promises turn to treachery, she is forced to take matters into her own hands and risk everything to reclaim her child.

In the empire’s mining camps, Bez Windstrider has endured years of torture and brutal experimentation. Broken but unyielding, he clings to one purpose: vengeance. The men who murdered his parents will pay, and their deaths will complete the ritual needed to free his parents’ souls from damnation.

But the deeper his grief cuts, the more he becomes something far more dangerous, for himself and for the empire.

As their paths draw closer, the buried truths of the God War begin to surface. What begins as two personal vendettas threatens to unravel something far greater than either of them can control.

Because empires do not fall quietly.

And the gods that shaped them are not as dead as they seem.

Makerborn is the first book in the Maladies of Empire series, a brutal epic dark fantasy of vengeance, sacrifice, and the cost of love.

For readers of dark, character-driven epic fantasy in the vein of Joe Abercrombie, Mark Lawrence, R.F. Kuang, Evan Winter, and Steven Erikson.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

Chapter 2

A Son’s Vengeance

Bez woke in darkness, deep in a pit, having failed his parents yet again. The night air was heavy and damp. The acrid stench of feces had lessened, but his nose still burned with the stink of decay. He felt like he would never wash the smell from his body. What does it matter now?

The moist earth offered scant relief from the Southern Waste’s merciless heat. Sweat slicked his body. His skin felt on fire, reminding him of how the Salvians slowly roasted meat on spits. He pinched his right nostril and blew out a thick wad of phlegm.

How long? How squalling long have they left me down here to rot?

He traced fine grooves in the earthy wall of his cage with long, dirty fingernails. Twenty-seven days he’d scratched before he’d given up counting. Then the real fun began. Weeks of wading in his own shit like a rutting hog once the pit guards had stopped retrieving his privy bucket. Weeks more of starvation when the obvious solution to avoid living in a hog pen penetrated his addled mind: no food, no feces. His only companions were self-pity, nightmares, and maggots gorging on his noxious filth.

And the moans of indentured miners, likely years past their freedom date, and Collared All-Tribe—his people—drifting down in his dirt tomb.

“Water,” cried a pit prisoner.

“Bread, just a heel of bread for Seal’s sake,” whined another.

“It was Tuftson,” someone sniveled. “He made me do it. It was him. Please, let me out.”

“Shut your gobs!” bellowed a voice.

The sounds washed over him, had become part of him, familiar as his gnawing hunger or the ever-present worms wriggling against his hot skin. Even without starlight, his people’s blessed vision allowed him to penetrate the mirk. He watched his sunken stomach rise and fall. Each rib pressed against his skin. Sour spit filled his mouth.

He wasn’t surprised that an army of worms assaulted the sides of his stomach and shoulders while he dozed. The slimy little grubs coated him with a sticky sludge, but he was past caring. Hands trembling, he brushed the vanguard away that had reached his chest. His legs were a lost cause. Scores of grubs covered them so only his toes peeked out.

Bez yawned. Heat-induced spans of intermittent sleep kept him drowsy and muddled. Sometimes his parents sat beside him in the dirt, back from the dead, singing and laughing. Other times, he was in the mountains climbing crags, or swimming in crystalline lakes so clear he could see rocks at the bottom. Moments ago, he was a boy again, running barefoot with his cousins through Uncle Darian’s fields, the tall grass whipping at his legs. Then a cry from a prisoner or the damp air clogging his nose had awakened him, shattering the vision. What was real or imagined blurred. Maybe I’m with my uncle still and the pit is only a nightmare.

Hesitantly, he stretched his hands to either side, fingertips brushing the cool, root-tangled walls. Feet firmly pressed against damp earth. Not a nightmare. He moaned like a wounded animal.

“Guardian spirits above,” he wheezed, not wiping the hot tears streaking down his cheek. “There’s no way out.”

But that was a lie. There was a way. His fingers searched for the gouge in the wall, finding the sharp-edged shard of obsidian he’d hidden there. My final escape.

He pried it free, hand shaking, and pressed the jagged edge against the soft flesh of his right wrist. A bead of blood sprang from the tip.

“I’ll do it this time,” he said to the crude face carved into the wall. A pause. “I know that’s what I said last time. By the All-Spirit, I can’t—” His throat tightened. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Enjoying your new home, demon-blood?” asked an unwelcome voice from the pit’s metal cage above.

“Dorota,” he rasped, tongue clumsy from disuse. “What a pleasure.”

He hated Yan’s henchwoman, but at that moment, his life in the balance, he clung to her words like a drowning man to driftwood.

Her chuckles echoed in the earthy tomb. “Liar. Play it friendly as you like, slit-eyes, but we both know what you are.” She crouched, damp hair plastered to her face, mouth hooked in a grin that never reached her eyes. “I saw the demon in you when we caught you on that ridge. Thought you were clever, didn’t you? Thought the aqueduct workers wouldn’t notice you and your two friends? What is the count? Your third?”

It was his fourth failed attempt to escape the Makersmetal mining camp, but he didn’t bother correcting the murdering bitch. I failed them just like my parents. Tala dead. Marcel beaten or worse. Anelia missing. And Bez… well, he would die in darkness, dooming his parents’ souls to wander the Shadowlands forever, never to reunite with their ancestors. He choked down a sob, not wanting to give her any satisfaction seeing him broken.


Author Bio:

Daymon Ashcord writes dark fantasy shaped by suffering, resilience, and the brutal edges of love pushed too far.

Born in Gdańsk, Poland, and raised in New York, he grew up on science fiction, fantasy, and the stories that linger long after the final page. After studying accounting and public policy, he left a conventional path to travel the world and create a documentary, turning storytelling into something essential.

His debut novel, Makerborn (2026), reflects years of persistence, personal setbacks, and a fascination with the darker truths people endure to survive.

He lives in North Carolina, hiking mountains by day and writing by night. He is considering adopting a dog, a cat, or both, and suspects they would judge him harshly.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Youtube / Instagram / TikTok


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Waiting For You

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They say friends make the best lovers…

Waiting For You

Priestly Family Series Book 5

by Sharon C. Cooper

Genre: Contemporary Second Chance Romance



They say friends make the best lovers…

After a bitter divorce, Jackson Norwood never thought he’d fall in love again. Especially not with his best friend, Essence Priestly. His attraction to her is the most powerful thing he’s felt in a long time, and he doesn’t just want her as a lover. He wants her to be his wife. Yet she’s determined to keep their relationship strictly platonic.

Jackson means everything to Essence and her son, and she’s torn between her love for him and the fear of ruining their years of friendship. But after an impulsive, passionate weekend together, she can’t deny their chemistry is off the charts. Jackson woke up the part of her she thought died years ago, and Essence is tempted to let him have what he wants—her.

But drama from his ex-wife is enough to challenge the strongest connection. Will Essence and Jackson’s reinvented relationship buckle under the pressure? Or will their bond grow stronger and lead them to their happily-ever-after?

 

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“Nyla asked if I’d be willing to share a room with you. I told her it was fine and assumed the two of you had already talked about it. She even had my overnight bag delivered there.”

“I’m going to kill my sisters. All of them,” Essence said through gritted teeth, attitude dangling from each word before she turned narrowed eyes on him. “You know what they’re trying to do, don’t you? You have to know.”

It took everything within Jackson not to smile because she was adorable when she was mad. Which he didn’t witness often. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, earning him a deeper glare.

Okay, maybe he knew now, but not at first. He hadn’t thought much of it when Nyla told him of the change because it wasn’t unusual for him and Essence to share a room. But now that he knew her sisters might be trying to push them together, Jackson was totally onboard with their scheming. They all knew how much he adored Essence and how close they were, but they also knew Essence was afraid to move out of the friend zone. It would be just like them to butt in.

He and Essence exited the elevator, and Jackson followed a few steps behind her as she practically stomped down the hallway to their room. She might’ve been pissed, and he probably should be thinking about how he was going to get her to lighten up, but damn her ass looked good in that dress. Watching her shapely hips sway back and forth rhythmically made his body stir in response. Hell, if he could get her to calm down, maybe they could have some fun tonight. It was a new year. A perfect time to start a new chapter in their story. And a little rendezvous in a luxury hotel would only add to the fun.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Essence glanced over her shoulder at him without missing a step. If eyes could shoot invisible daggers, she was definitely shooting them at him, and he felt them square in the chest.

So much for living out a few fantasies tonight. Clearly, the hotel room would be for sleeping only.

Normally, Essence was sweet, kind, and would do anything for anyone. She also had a good sense of humor and took her family’s antics in stride. She didn’t usually trip over stuff like this, especially since she and he often shared a hotel room. The two of them, and sometimes Tray, vacationed together more often than not. Staying in the same room was a norm. So, it was out of character to see her this pissed.

Essence already had her keycard out when she stopped in front of their hotel room door. Seconds later, she stormed inside the room. She didn’t seem to care if he followed her in or not.

Jackson sighed, catching the door before it slammed in his face. This was going to be a long night. He didn’t want to argue, and Essence had every right to be mad—just not at him. She was probably looking forward to relaxing in a beautiful hotel room after a long day. Hell, a couple of long weeks, and here he was crashing any solitude she thought she’d get.

Or maybe she was mad because she had planned to invite that punk ass Romero to the room after the reception.

That thought had Jackson wanting to question her about the guy. Had their relationship moved up from just casual dating? Instead of asking, he kept his mouth shut. She was angry at her sisters, and he didn’t need her to take it out on him. He didn’t have siblings, but he’d been around hers enough to know they all drove each other nuts sometimes.

“Oh, and if you think we’re sleeping in the same bed, think again,” Essence snapped, tossing his duffel bag, which had been on the edge of the king size bed, to the sofa.

Jackson yawned, then slid out of his tuxedo jacket and laid it across the arm of the sofa. Next went the bowtie. “Essence, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I do know one thing. I’m not sleeping on the sofa.”

 

Copyright © 2026 Sharon. C. Cooper




USA Today bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award (2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net

  

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