Showing results by narrator "Andi Arndt" in All Categories

He's rough around the edges, a sweet talker with a protective heart. Johnny works his Southern charm under my skin despite my best efforts to resist him. He's my best friend, my other half. He says he loves me until one decision alters our lives forever. The damage is irreparable. Johnny's sorrow runs deep. He takes his pain out on his friends and pushes me into the arms of someone who does more harm than good—then disappears without a word.

If I closed my eyes, I could still see them - all blonde sunshine, ocean-blue eyes, and long limbs. The glint of Lake's gold bracelet. Pink cotton candy on Tiffany's tongue. My scenery may have changed from heaven to hell, but some things never would: my struggle to do right by both sisters. To let Lake soar. To lift Tiffany up. The sacrifices I made for them, I made willingly. A better man would've walked away by now, but I never claimed to be any good. I only promised myself I'd keep enough distance. If I'd learned one thing from my past, it was that love came in different forms.

Men suck. They break you. Leave you. Take everything until there's nothing left. And frankly, I'm done allowing them to make me feel insignificant. So, forget men. I'll just throw myself into my job, because at least that never fails me. Jackson has other plans, though. I refuse to be impressed by his perfect body, the cute dimple on his cheek, or the rugged stubble on his face. Jackson Cole can be resisted. But, I'm only fooling myself. He's going to wear me down. I can feel it. In the end he'll prove that once again, I'm no one's beloved.

On the same day Bells Walker learns that her IUD has failed, her husband Harry is denied tenure at his Manhattan university. So Bells, Harry, their two adolescent children, and her baby bump move to New York’s Hudson Valley, where Harry has landed a job at Dutchess College in the town of Pigkill. When the farm-to-table utopia Bells envisioned is anything but, she turns to the blogosphere. Under the pen name the County Dutchess, she anonymously dishes about life in Pigkill, detailing the activities of hypercompetitive parents and kombucha-drinking hipsters.

I ran. Escaped the man who wanted to hurt me. I got in my car and drove. No destination. No direction. No help. I hid in the one place I would never be found. Now in New York with no job, I didn’t know what to do. Then I met him. Jaxson Price. The enigmatic devil who wasn't only above the law, but played it like a puppet. He might be the answer to all my problems. Too bad he's asking for something in return for his help.... My heart.

Weddings. I spend every working minute talking and writing about them, when just the thought of one makes me want to scream. After my fiancé abandoned me at the altar last year, my dream job at Bride magazine has turned into a reoccurring nightmare. To add insult to injury, the bridezilla at my latest assignment, somehow roped me into filling in for a missing bridesmaid. Of course, I had to get paired with the most gorgeous groomsman. Wilder Hayes is perfect-except when he opens his mouth and we end up bickering all evening. That is, until the coat closet incident.

Richmond, Virginia 1811. It’s the height of the winter social season, the General Assembly is in session, and many of Virginia’s gentleman planters, along with their wives and children, have made the journey to the capital. On the night after Christmas, the city's only theater is packed with holiday revelers. In the middle of a performance, the theater goes up in flames. Based on the true story of Richmond’s theater fire, The House Is on Fire offers proof that sometimes, in the midst of great tragedy, we are offered our most precious—and fleeting—chances at redemption.

Molly Appleby loves her job at Collector's Weekly covering auctions and estate sales all over the South. When her latest assignment takes her to Richmond, Virginia, to interview the staff of the hit TV show Hidden Treasures, she's expecting a quick, fun trip. But when one of the show's appraisers is found murdered, Molly realizes that once again she'll have to put on her detective's cap until the culprit is captured.

Once upon a time, Caven Hunt saved my life. We were only kids, but the trauma of that day destroyed us both. Years later, he didn't recognize me when a one-night stand unexpectedly reconnected us. And nine months later, when I left our newborn daughter on his doorstep, I didn't recognize myself either. The darkness doesn't always win, though. It took four agonizing years for me to find myself again—years during which our daughter grew up without a mother.

All I want for the holidays is the willpower to resist my brother’s sexy, charming, easy-on-the-eyes new business partner. Instead, I'm stuck planning all the holiday parties with the one guy who makes me want to break my dating diet. Who thought that was a good idea? Oh, me. Yep, brilliant, strategic me who raised her hand and said yes I’d love to hang mistletoe with that hot former sports star. (Note to self: Mistletoe leads to toe-curling, knee-weakening kisses.)

When I was 15, a single bullet changed my life. I spent the next decade trying to outrun the devastation of my past, building an empire that would shield me from whatever life could throw at me. But all the money in the world couldn’t help me when I found a screaming newborn abandoned on my doorstep. I’d never wanted to be a father. Passing the sludge that ran through my veins down to an innocent child seemed like a tragedy. But there she was - pink cheeks, red hair, and mine.

I have three goals: graduate from an Ivy League university, get into medical school, and follow in my father's well-established footsteps. Everything was going exactly as planned until the local bad boy was delivered to my doorstep. Literally. From the moment we meet, my old life becomes unrecognizable, but I have no regrets. I'm utterly captivated by him. His smirk. His heart. His sharp wit. He pushes me to live, to be wild, to pursue the dream I've always hidden inside.

Melanie Winters and Daniel Montgomery shared a love they believed bonded them together for life. After a tragic loss, overwhelming grief and misguided guilt distorts the truth, and their relationship ends in unanswered questions. For nine years, they drift through life, each unable to forget the one who holds their heart. Now, when their lives again intersect, will the power that drew them together be enough to heal the wounds from their past?

Welcome to The Barbizon, New York's premier women-only hotel. Built in 1927, New York's Barbizon Hotel was first intended as a home for the 'Modern Woman' seeking a career in the arts. It became the place to stay for ambitious, independent women, who were lured by the promise of fame and good fortune. The Barbizon is a colourful, glamorous portrait of the lives of these young women, who came to New York looking for something more. It's a story of pushing the boundaries, of women's emancipation and of the generations of brilliant women who passed through its halls.

An intimate portrait of Handel’s life and inner circle, modeled after one of the composer’s favorite forms: the fugue. During his lifetime, the sounds of Handel’s music reached from court to theater, echoed in cathedrals, and filled crowded taverns, but the man himself - known to most as the composer of Messiah - is a bit of a mystery. Though he took meticulous care of his musical manuscripts and even provided for their preservation on his death, very little of an intimate nature survives.

The beat. The cheers. The thrill of the unknown. I shouldn’t leave the safety of the music arena—my last name is McKallister, after all, and I’m intimately familiar with worst-case scenarios. But I’m drawn by the talent and the turmoil behind the weary eyes of the drummer on the streets. I’ve never seen anyone my age as wild and unrestrained, a lightning bolt of electricity that never hits the same spot on his bucket drums twice. He plays with such confidence, such rage. I have to know who he is and where he learned to bang out drum solos like he owns the night. I want to help him.

Christian Davison has a plan for his life. He is determined to become an attorney and to one day take his place as partner in his father's law firm. Nothing will stand in his way, not even Elizabeth Ayers and their unborn child. After Christian cuts her from his life, Elizabeth spends the next five years struggling to provide for her daughter and willing to sacrifice anything to give her child a safe, comfortable life. For five years, Christian has regretted the day he walked away from his family and will do anything to win them back just as Elizabeth will do anything to protect her daughter from the certain heartache she believes Christian will bring upon them.

Manning and I have what happily ever after is made of.... A home he built us on the unshakable foundation we fought for. A life of laughter carved out of heartache and betrayal. A love story to stand the test of time. But between a trust that can’t be broken, joy that can’t be bridled, and passion that would scorch the sun, the empty spaces are becoming more and more difficult to ignore.... Fears that keep Manning up at night as he slips from our bed. Our complicated relationship with a man he respects, and one I don't know how to forgive.

Hot on the heels of her 2018 This Is Horror Award–winning short story collection Spectral Evidence, critically horror author Gemma Files compiles fifteen more of her most startling recent nightmares—a creepily seductive downward spiral of dark poetry and existential dread, entirely suitable to the slow apocalypse going on all around us. So take your mind off your troubles and send it somewhere the rules still operate, if only to punish those who violate them.

It all started with the bereavement flowers with my name on them. Not the best way to wake up, right? I work in a flower shop. I know a funeral arrangement when I see one. I know a killer when I see one, too. And one is standing in my hospital room right now, straight behind the man who saved my life. I can’t tell anyone the truth, because that’s the fastest way to really die. So I do the next best thing. I “lose” my memory. I fake my amnesia. Pretending not to remember a brutal attempted murder has its perks.