A Bona Fide Audience: Dallas, a young musical genius, needs to know—quickly—that her life matters.
Dream Debbie:An author with a new romantic interest, and a bout of writer’s block, reflects on the “dream woman” she apparently is not.
Come to Yourself, Mr. Jones:When InTýntz, a favored celebrity, meets a gorgeous and mysterious woman (Crystal?) at a club in his hometown, his night with her does not turn out anything like he planned.
Eminence: After their country’s three-year revolution, Ahnna, a village schoolmistress, serves as nurse for Ikenna, an esteemed soldier and tradesman. But in their newfound independence, the fight for worthy governance, both of the nation and of the heart, is not over.
The Movement of Crowns: With the kingdom of Diachona on the threshold of war with the Mundaynes, Constance, coming into power under her father the king, deems this an inopportune time to be falling in love with one Commander Alexander.
From romance to epic fiction, experience this five-story suite that your own heart will thank you for.
A Bona Fide Audience: Mark, who Dallas had always thought to be one of the most incredible boys in all existence, had been passing by the orchestra room and paused to poke his handsome head in. "Dallas?"
Dallas had jumped, stopped her music, and blushed. "You know my name?"
Dream Debbie: He probably wasn't the handsomest man on the planet, but he did have a pair of kind, soothing eyes. Debbie's friends might've judged that Stuart had natural "bedroom eyes," but Debbie had immediately informed herself that she had no business thinking of bedrooms, and she'd jumped into her favorite old pair of unsexy flannel pajamas that night to remind herself of the fact.
Come to Yourself, Mr. Jones: She'd responded favorably to him. She'd talked to him, smiled at him, left the club with him, gotten into his car with him. No mistake.
Mitchell sat up in bed, looking around in the darkness. He was in his room, in his large bed, wakeful and regretful and alone, but he had made no mistake?
Eminence: Ikenna peered down at his hands. Ahnna suspected that he was not going to answer her, but he eventually met her eyes with a fervency reminiscent of fire. "I will mourn no longer being in the field. But I will not miss the horrors of war." His voice lowered to a grave mumble. "Mtihani was the one place that I seriously sensed was almost killing me."
"Almost," Ahnna was quick to interject. "Only 'almost.' And 'almost' was not good enough."
The Movement of Crowns: Constance hadn't taken a second to think but had left Staid at once, her whole being ablaze with a mixture of desire, rapture, and dejection. Why on earth did she have to care so for this military man, of all the men in the country, at such an inopportune, trying national time?
Still, looking out at the assembly before her, Constance knew this was not the time to bemoan inopportunity. Critical judgments about life and death were waiting to be made. A force stood menacingly without their land, taunting their nation, and this woman, this royal junior, had something to say about it.