“Emma!” Ailig Bennett bellowed as he left his horse in the care of his squire and rushed into his keep. Behind him, the ocean crashed against the shore at the foot of the hills where his keep had been built. He cared little for it or the oncoming storm. He pulled off his leather gloves as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the great hall.

Servants scurried around, lighting torches to break the oncoming darkness.

“Emma,” he called again. He headed towards the doorway at the back of the wall which would lead to the stairs spiralling to the upper chambers housed in the north tower. The solar was there and no doubt Emma, as well, as she bent over her stitching. He smiled at the thought of pulling his new bride into his arms and unravelling her carefully braided hair.

Would she welcome him with as much vigour as that which coursed through his veins? He’d left her behind on their wedding day, answering the urgent call of his king. On that day he’d hated his liege, but with King Henry’s contingent of messengers waiting, he had been unable to tarry.

Today, finally, he would be one with his bride.

Reaching the floor above the great hall, he strode towards his thinking chamber. Another set of stairs within it lead to the solar. “Emma,” he called more gently as he crested the top of the stairs.

His bride stood in the large chamber, her back to him as she stared through an arrow slot at the waves below. His breath caught at the sight of her long brown braids cascading to her slim waist. He could not wait to give the bride gift he had purchased for her on his journey.

She spun at the sound of his voice, a smile lighting her face.

Perhaps he could wait to gift her. He would wait until after they’d united. His manhood stirred beneath his heavy knee-length mail, lengthening and thickening in his need for his wife. He had waited so long for her, more than the months this latest call to duty had required. Emma had long ago caught his eye. He had curried her favour in the ways he had learned in the king’s courts until her green eyes shone with the love he felt in his middle.

“Ailig,” she exclaimed, dashing towards him. Her arms closed around his neck as he lifted her into his embrace. His mouth took hers as one hand lifted to bury in her hair, already pulling loose strands free. She tasted of honey and Emma. He groaned as his lips pushed hers apart and his tongue delved inside, scraping along hers as he reclaimed her sweet mouth. How he’d dreamed of the pleasure while he had been away, this one pleasure he had indulged before they were wed. This one pleasure he’d taken many times after they were wed, the last moments before the king’s messengers had dragged him away to his duty.

Emma made a small sound and pressed into him, her arms tightening around his neck. Unlike many noble marriages, theirs was a love match. Indeed, Emma had not been a noble until he’d taken her to bride. She’d been the daughter of a merchant in the village a short distance from the keep. Though he was noble, it had taken some time to claim her. Emma had feared marrying a knight and losing him to battle. As if to feed that fear, the king had called him away immediately. It had ripped at Ailig’s gut to see the terror in her eyes.

'Gaining Hope' by Lacey Thorn

Hope waited in the shadows of the early night fall, watching the older woman move about the boat. It looked as if she was preparing it to set sail and that was just what Hope had been searching for. The woman was sixty if she was a day and was humming as she worked. She would definitely help Hope get away once they were far enough out. Hope had no doubts that she could talk her into what she needed. A man would be different. She’d been ogled enough by men to know that her full breasts and curvy body filled most men with lust.

Hope watched the woman leave the boat and head up the dock and knew that her moment was fast approaching. It was now or never. Once the woman was out of sight, she crept out from behind the storage building she was using for cover and sprinted down the dock to hop on board the boat. It rocked a little and Hope held her breath praying no one else was on board as she cautiously crept down the stairs below deck. She had to find a place that she could hide for an adequate amount of time. It wouldn’t do her any good if she was discovered before they even left.

She entered a large bedroom and marvelled at the beauty within. The furniture was gorgeous and decidedly masculine. It was also immaculate. Hope had only seen the woman on the boat and with the condition of the room she wondered if it was even being used. Doing a fast search of the room she finally found what she was looking for in the closet. There were several blankets haphazardly thrown on the floor and she was able to make a small nest with them. The clothes hanging up helped to hide her.

She snuggled down into the blankets and by pulling one up and over her, she was completely hidden from view. Hopefully, it would still just look like a pile of blankets. At five foot three she wasn’t all that tall anyway so she should be okay. She’d just stay here for as long as she could and when enough time had passed with the motor going, she would come up with a way to be discovered and take it from there. She’d always had a great imagination. She’d wait and create her story when the time was at hand. She was fairly good at that. For now she’d just take a little nap.

'Moonlit Magic' by Bronwyn Green

“You can’t avoid him forever.”

Glaring at her best friend, Beckett Matthews crossed her arms over her chest and turned towards the window, watching the lush, green countryside race by. “Sure I can. Just watch me.”

There had been nights when she thought it would kill her, but she’d avoided him perfectly well for five long years. Of course, the fact that the Atlantic Ocean had stood between them had made staying away from him somewhat easier.

Now that she’d returned to Ireland, steering clear of Kieran Brennan was going to be a bit more difficult. But, she reminded herself, she was just visiting. This was simply a last minute stop on the European museum circuit. She’d be in Dublin only as long as the Tapestry and Textile exhibition. When the tapestries went back to the U.S. so would she, and Kieran would once again be relegated to the land of memories and mistakes.

It hadn’t all been a mistake, had it? Longing flooded her at the memory of his lanky, muscled body pressing her into the cool earth under the stars. Shaking off the past, she focused on the present. The present consisted of riding from the airport to her aunt’s cottage outside of Wicklow with Tara. Every landmark they passed brought back memories better left buried. The standing stones where he’d first kissed her. The pond where they’d gone skinny-dipping after dark. The castle ruins where they’d made love. She closed her eyes, willing away the memories. All roads led back to Kieran.

“Admit it,” Tara chided, her lilting accent bringing back memories of every summer she’d spent here at her aunt’s home. “You can’t stop thinking about him.”

Beckett sighed. She’d never stopped thinking about him. At twenty-three he’d been gorgeous. She’d loved running her fingers through his long tawny hair and staring into his deep, sea green eyes. And God knew she’d never tired of touching him—lean and muscular —golden perfection. She clenched her hands, remembering the feel of his sweat-slick skin against hers.

She needed to stop behaving like a hormonal eighteen-year-old. That chapter of her life was long past. She’d willingly walked away from everything he’d offered—ran was more like it. She ran home to a lonely existence.

It was stupid to think that her relationship with Kieran would have turned out like her parents’ relationship had, but she couldn’t free herself from the bone deep fear that he would leave when she needed him most. That he would abandon her like her mother and father. Granted, her mother hadn’t had a choice, but her father did. And he chose to leave her and her siblings after her mother died. Part of her knew that Kieran would never do anything that cowardly, but old fears died hard, apparently. Instead, she’d focused on the physical, fucking him at every opportunity and when he wanted more…she’d run. She pushed away the almost tactile recollection of the way their bodies fit together, only to wonder how they’d fit now.

'Healing Doctor Ryan' by Carol Lynne

Sitting practically naked on an exam table waiting for his doctor was not Ian Fitzgerald’s idea of a good time, especially when he got a stiffy whenever his very qualified oncologist stepped into the room.

As he swung his legs back and forth, he tried to talk to his unruly cock. “Now, Dr Ryan really doesn’t need you to sit up and take notice every time you hear that deep voice of his. He’s a very busy man. Yes, I know, I’ve seen him look at you too, but maybe it’s just to make sure you’re feeling okay.” Ian gave his pet a quick stroke to soothe him. “Now, Dick, if you’re a good boy, I’ll play with you later.”

The door opened suddenly and Ian’s face heated. Fuck, he hoped Doc hadn’t heard any of that. What would he think if he walked in on a twenty-eight-year-old man talking to his cock? Ian watched the top of Doc’s head as he studied a set of charts, Doc’s black curls shining in the overhead fluorescent lights.

“How am I doing?” Ian asked, tugging his gown down below his knees. He was going to kill his uncooperative body. Hopefully, Doc wouldn’t notice if he kept his gown tented from his chest to his knees.

Dr Ryan looked up and smiled. Oh crap, that smile got to Ian every time. He sucked the saliva back into his mouth and waited.

“The results look very promising. Your blood tests look good. Of course you’re due for another CAT scan in a month, but so far the surgery and chemotherapy seem to have taken care of the cancer. It’ll be a year next month, that’s a big milestone, congratulations.”

“Thanks.” The clinical reminder of why he was here deflated his erection in seconds. Oh well, at least he wouldn’t embarrass himself again.

“Why don’t you lie down and we’ll get to the exam,” Dr Ryan said, putting down his folder.

As Ian took his arms out of the utilitarian gown and uncovered his chest, Dr Ryan seemed to be studying him. “What’s your exercise regime been like lately? I’m noticing a good build up in your upper body.”

The doctor began palpitating Ian’s breasts looking for any sign the cancer had spread from his testicle to another part of his body. It was the reason he still had to have a CT scan every two months. When Dr. Ryan’s fingers brushed over his nipples they immediately pebbled and it took everything in Ian not to moan.

'A Legend Accomplished' by Brynn Paulin

Emily Harteger looked up from the text she’d just scrawled in her notebook, glancing around her as a powerful wave surged up the shore and puddled around her bare feet. She smiled, the warmth of familiarity creeping over her. Before long, the water would surround the stone where she sat. How many times had that happened when she’d been distracted?

She blinked. What was she thinking?

That had never happened to her. She’d never been to this beach before today.

Being here was like déjà vu or something equally weird. For the last fifteen minutes, it had seemed as if she’d finally arrived home. She knew this place.

Everything was familiar—the crash of the waves on the rocks jutting from the ocean. The trees lining the shore. The castle overshadowing the beach as it stood high above her on a rocky hill. Even the wind seemed to carry a familiar scent of ocean and wood smoke.

Yet she’d never been here. She’d never been out of the United States before this week.

She looked up at the shadowy castle, wondering if the interior would be as she’d seen it in her head. Likely not. She was just a romance writer with an overactive imagination. Wasn’t it that imagination that had drawn her here to the northern shores of England?

Another wave engulfed her ankles while she watched the water hypnotically lap at the shore. She breathed in the heady scent of the salty sea air and closed her eyes. This was the sort of place where Ailig and Emma, the hero and heroine of her latest novel, had fallen in love. She imagined what it had been like for young Emma when she’d fallen in love with Ailig. Emily could see her sitting on this rock, waiting for him to arrive so they could have a few stolen moments before her parents realised she was missing.

“My love,” he’d whisper as he knelt beside her knees and cupped her cheek with his work-roughened hand.

Emily jerked as her imagining became so vivid she felt his hand. Her eyes popped open, and she choked back a surprised scream as she stared into a pair of dark blue eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his voice a deep rumble of concern. “The tide is coming in, and I was afraid you’d fallen asleep.”

Hastily, she stuffed her notebook in the bag beside her and yanked the tote’s strap up her shoulder. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She attempted to smile and soften her snapped words. She didn’t mean to be abrupt. It was just—

He was the very embodiment of the man she’d envisioned as Ailig. Tall and sturdy with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Full lips, prominent cheekbones, muscles made to make a girl feel safe...he had it all. Granted his hair was shorter than Ailig’s whose hair fell to his shoulder blades, but aside from that difference and the modern jeans with a knit shirt, he could be her knight.