Showing results by author "Anne Malcom" in All Categories

Wren Whitney lives a remarkable life. She is a child of Beverly Hills, growing up in boarding schools, on private jets, a life of extreme wealth and privilege. Wren lives for adventure. She is afraid of nothing. She says no to nothing. Her existence is a blur of escapades, outrageous stories, and the many men who love her. Wren has never been in love. She has said the words many times, but she has never meant them. I love you is the only lie she's ever told.

Marrying Kip Goodman was a last resort. But she was desperate. Desperate enough to marry a man she despised. All she had to do was get through the year married to a cocky alpha male who only thought of women as notches on his bedpost.

There's a phrase: Still waters run deep. But there's more to it than that. Because "still" doesn’t denote peace. Nor calm. Nor happiness. It’s an illusion. It's chaos. The only way to handle chaos is to become it. That’s what Lucy did. She created stillness out of the chaos tumbling inside her and called the most chaotic motorcycle club in the United States her family. The Sons of Templar gave her chaos, friendship, family, danger, and death. But she wouldn't want it any other way. Then he came.

Should I tell you a story? Not a fairytale, mind you. There's not a princess to be seen. Nor a prince. Not even a hero. This is about the stripper and the outlaw. Our story begins with the Sons of Templar MC, with a man even the outlaws fear. He was trouble. More than trouble. A scoundrel. A sinner. A villain. To everyone but me. Our story begins with blood, violence, and pain. I have a feeling it will end that way too. But it's too late for escape. I've fallen for the scoundrel. The sinner. The outlaw.

Eleven stories chronicle the life and times of characters who cross paths and share destiny’s fire escape. Ghosts, gravity, romance, and secrets weave the communal narrative. Step into the elevator. Push any button, but try to remember your way back out. Not everybody makes it.

I don't know what it's like to feel. To hurt. The ability was stolen from me in my youth. I consider that theft a gift. Feelings got in the way when you were building an empire. Amassing power. I had the empire. I had the power. One moment in an alley changed everything. What took more than a decade to amass was snatched away in a second. He killed for me. But he didn't save me.

He collected beautiful things. Rare things. Ripped them out of their natural environment and preserved them in all of their dead splendor. The problem was I wasn't beautiful. I was all of the hideous and ugly realities of the world packaged into one broken human being. He came to kill me. That was his business. Death. He ripped me out of my natural environment, the prison I'd created, and locked me away with all of his beautiful dead things.

Magnolia Grace is a horror writer, despite what the name might suggest. One of the best in the business, if you ask around. Pressure comes with that title. Expectation for the next nightmare. The next bestseller. Sickness. That's what it is. She can't be healthy. Because that means she won't write. And she hasn't been writing.