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Thirteen Clans. Thirteen Males. One prize.
Winter Jarl is the most notorious female warrior of her species. Her father is chief, and he’s dying, so he’s cashed in on a promise she made long ago: he’s setting her up with an alpha from each of the thirteen clans before she takes over his position. Sentenced to a year of isolation, she will spend twenty-eight-days alone with each man. By the end of it, Winter must choose one to stand beside her. The challenge? She must be in love to produce an heir. Cycle Fourteen: Keeping Winter Winter rejoices in having her father home, but it’s too little too late. The country has a new chief before Winter’s ready. With little time to grieve, Winter is saddled with a new crew as she journeys to each clan and returns to her alphas one last time. Her broken heart only breaks further as Winter fights to choose who will be her mate. Unfortunately, it’s not her only fight before this is all over. Jump into this intense paranormal erotica now and see who you want to win Winter’s heart. |
excerptShe hated hiding when Newt came. His honeysuckle scent lingered in the hallways. Winter missed spending time with him. With him and her father. They’d spent a lot of nights and early mornings together, the three of them.
It’d been a week, and she was sick of it. Let’s test just how much has changed, shall we? Winter brought the tea tray to Amarok’s room early as Newt settled her father into bed. The shock in his mismatched eyes made her bite her lip. Amarok grinned, patting the sheet beside him. “Enough for the three of us, then?” She knew he’d make an exception for this. He liked the idea of the two of them together so much. She played on his bias, handing out cups and settling on the bed beside her father. Newt smiled to himself as he sat, sipped, and met Winter’s gaze over the rim of his cup. His nostrils flared as the mug lowered, and Amarok rocked her against him, distracting them both from the lingering silent sexual tension. “It’s nice to have you home, baby.” Winter agreed and tasted her minty tea. It matched the cold of the new year and seeped warmth into her. She’d been surprisingly cold since Newt left. Did she miss Newt or simply having someone beside her? It was too soon to tell. “And I like to see you in your mother’s clothes. You keep her memory alive better than I ever could—all fire and life.” “Mmm, she was both of those things. Overflowing with them.” Amarok laughed. “You have no idea, Pumpkin.” “I don’t need the details, thanks.” “No. You don’t.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head and sighed. He sounded tired. “Newt, have you decided on the apprenticeship?” That perked Winter up, prying him for information with her gaze. “No, but I’m leaning toward it.” Newt took a long drink of his tea. “What apprenticeship?” Winter prompted. His smile warmed her. “Smoke from the Halsein clan put out feelers for a metal work apprenticeship. I plan to give word for a conversation. Your father gives his family high praise. How about you?” Cheeks flaming, Winter hid behind her tea. “I approve of the family based on what I know. I’ll meet him soon. How long until you make an official decision?” “A couple of months.” She nodded, and that circling fear returned. “I’ll let you know. I can almost guarantee he was raised well, but that doesn’t tell you everything.” “Even when we hope that’s all it takes.” Amarok squeezed her again. “You mean you simply hope that your mistakes don’t ruin all of your hard work?” Winter asked, bumping his side. Remus had said that about being a father, and he was Smoke’s father, so it seemed appropriate. “Exactly.” Another kiss dropped in her hair. “Be a dear and take our cups. I need to speak to Newt alone for a few minutes before he leaves.” Cold jolted her upright, hand gripping her own cup before swinging off of Amarok’s bed. Winter grabbed the tray and took their dishes, suppressing the fury at being dismissed this way. Like some submissive woman. What could he have to share with Newt that he couldn’t tell her? And her friend simply looked at her with pity etched on his brows. She narrowed her eyes at him before leaving, swinging the door closed a little harder than she meant to. Like a fucking child. Not much better. Taking the tray to the kitchen, she washed the dishes and set them to dry before starting breakfast. The eggs took a while, but the sausages from yesterday waited in the fridge to reheat in the microwave. Fox had hated the thing, but it was easy. When the door upstairs opened, Winter busied herself at the toaster in the corner so she wouldn’t have to face Newt on his way out. His sympathy and longing crawled across the floor to nip at her heels anyway. She stiffened and clung to the counter, shoulders rigid as he hesitated by the door. “I’m sorry, Winter.” And he left her there with the mix of rage and loss and embarrassment that she couldn’t wrangle for far too long. How stupid she was to bend the rules to begin with. |
A complete fourteen-part erotic paranormal romance serial.
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Thirteen Clans. Thirteen Males. One prize. Winter Jarl is the most notorious female warrior of her species. Her father is chief, and he’s dying, so he’s cashed in on a promise she made long ago: he’s setting her up with an alpha from each of the thirteen clans before she takes over his position. Sentenced to a year of isolation, she will spend twenty-eight-days alone with each man. By the end of it, Winter must choose one to stand beside her. The challenge? She must be in love to produce an heir. Cycle One: Chasing Winter When Winter's oath comes due, she isn't ready to give up her freedom, her body, or her future. Too bad her nature won't be doing her any favors. Thunder is young and inexperienced and the first to encounter Winter Jarl’s deadly sexuality. But he's got a bucket list of positions he wants to take her in, and he's willing to face her wrath just to check each one off. |
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Autumn Lishky is a quiet, little woman with a big, loud imagination, and a dirty one at that. Living in the Oklahoma City area, she has worked various jobs from pizza delivery girl to night host at a funeral home, but no matter the nature of her income, she is always lost in a world of fantastic sex.
But be forewarned, these won’t be your normal erotic scenes. This may be more than mere BDSM. Dirty Little Love is for the wicked, for the fantasies, for sex that crosses that accepted societal norm. |
About the author
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Want to sample some of Autumn's steamy scenes?
Click here to visit her blog, Dirty Little Love, where you can read the juicy stuff, get a slice of character, and be onto another in minutes. Do remember this site is for ages 18+ |
