Flynn Tiamat

Brother and sister in name," said the woman on the other side of the column. "She's not really his sister, though." Lark came on a Sunday, in the last of the October light, with two suitcases and a coat too thin for the season. She had lived in this house until she was eighteen. "I don't want to be any trouble," she said — to the stairs, before she had located Simone standing on them. "I'll earn my keep." And Simone watched her look around the hall the way a surveyor looks at a lot. Simone Thorne is an engineer. She builds things that either work or do not work, and when a board fails she does not argue with it — she instruments it, runs it again, and waits for it to tell her where the fault is. So she does not accuse. She does not confront. She does not raise her voice once in this entire book. She watches. She records. She lets the house run, and she measures what it does. What she finds will take three years to become undeniable, and by then she will have lost the marriage, the address, and the version of the story everybody agreed on. She will also have built something of her own — in a rented floor in Long Island City, with eleven people and a basement that floods. This is a book about a woman who refuses to fight, and wins anyway.

She gave up the sky for him. She's taking it back. Gia Calloway was an Army Black Hawk pilot from a family of aviators. Then she married Captain Wade Mercer, hung up her flight jacket, and spent five years on his family's failing Texas cattle ranch, nursing his mother and quietly pouring her own inheritance into keeping the place alive. Wade comes home a viral war hero. At his own welcome-home barbecue, in front of everyone they know, he announces he's divorcing her to marry the major he flew with. He even suggests Gia stay on to run the ranch, since casseroles and bookkeeping are all she's good for now. Gia signs the papers, takes her truck and her father's jacket, and drives west. In Northern California, a wildfire outfit needs pilots who can hover a water bucket over a burning ridge. Its chief pilot, the quiet widower Rafe Donnelly, notices her skill before he notices anything else about her. As fire season rages, Gia becomes the pilot the whole West calls for. And the hero story that made Wade famous starts to come apart. A fierce, sweeping second-chance romance about a woman who stops shrinking and flies.

For ten years, Eleanor Ashdown has been the poor relation at the bottom of a duke's table. She is the ward everyone calls slow, the girl who squints because she was never allowed spectacles, and the betrothed of London's most dazzling young statesman, Lord Valentine Merrion. He has never once remembered her birthday. He laughs when the season's beauty says she counts on her fingers. He has no idea that every figure behind his famous speeches came from her pencil. On her twenty-first birthday, Eleanor puts on a borrowed pair of spectacles, lays his family's pearls on the tablecloth, and walks away. She claims the fortune the duke tried to gamble, and she marries a plain-spoken Yorkshire engineer who offers her something no one ever has: honest work, true friendship, and a chance to be seen. Too late, Valentine realizes what he threw away. When he draws her into his political world, he makes her a promise. Then, on the most dangerous night of her life, he chooses his family's name over her. Seven years later, Eleanor has built a reservoir, a famous inn on the moors, and a life entirely her own. Then the most powerful man in Parliament stumbles out of a blizzard to her door. A failing dam looms above the valley and the spring thaw is coming. This time charm will not save him. Only his hands, his courage, and the truth told out loud will do. A sweeping Victorian romance about being overlooked, rising, and learning what it costs to be forgiven.

He asked her to look at the lighter. She looked at it. Nothing happened — and she never told him. Nell Voss has lived in the Thorne house since she was seven years old, when she pulled the youngest son out of a swimming pool and her parents were given a cheque and sent home. She has been the driver’s daughter, the housekeeper’s daughter, the goddaughter, the girl everyone is grateful to. She has never once asked anybody in that house for anything. At twenty-nine, in another life, she died on a hospital ceiling with one honest sentence unsaid. Now she is twenty-three again, and there are six days until her fiancé leaves for a month — six days until he asks his older brother for a favour. Hypnotise her. Just for the month. So the waiting isn’t sitting in her when I get back. Adrian Thorne cannot hypnotise anybody. He is thirty years old, he has run his family since he was twenty, and he has been in love with her since she was fifteen and has never said one word of it. The lighter is his grandfather’s. It is a permission slip he is writing himself. He comes to her room for thirty nights. She is awake for every single one. He thinks he is taking something from a girl who cannot refuse. She is not pretending to be someone else — she is pretending to be hypnotised, because it is the only room in that house where she has ever been allowed to be herself.

She died at her desk with fifty thousand dollars saved and no one to spend it on. The afterlife just offered her a second chance. Phoenix payroll clerk Jenna Park-Whitley never dated, never splurged, and never thought anyone would miss her. Then a big-haired afterlife caseworker makes her an offer: rescue the doomed, devoted runner-up men from five stories gone wrong, and she'll get her life back plus five million dollars. There's a loyal stunt double on a 1953 studio lot. A silent blacksmith in a frontier town. A scarred lighthouse keeper on the Maine coast. A backup goalie who always loses the girl. A tender android in a future Seattle. Every one of them is exactly her type, and every one of them seems to already know her. They hum the same lullaby. They knock twice when they say goodbye. They always make sure she eats first. Jenna starts to suspect the program isn't what it claims to be. And the man waiting for her across every world may be someone she met long before she died. A warm, swoony, heart-healing romance about a lonely woman learning she was always worth choosing.

In every love story, someone is standing just outside the frame. This time, the story is about her. Maggie Holm is never the heroine. In a 2004 Ohio high school she's the class secretary taking minutes while the popular kids fall apart. In a Manhattan billionaire romance she's the ER doctor's girlfriend, not the billionaire's. She's the Vermont baker at Christmas who isn't the love interest, the dating-show contestant nobody picks, and the Nashville session singer who harmonizes on other people's hits. And every time, while louder love stories explode around her, a quiet man at the edge of the scene notices her. Across six lives, Maggie slowly realizes she is always in the background, and she's happy there. Until the day the camera finally turns to her. A cozy, tender, feel-good novel in linked stories about small, steady love, and why it is its own kind of grand romance.

The flowers were dying and Eve was the only one who could tell. It was the kind of party where nothing was allowed to die — forty floors above the city, in an apartment made almost entirely of glass. The peonies on the long table had been cut that morning and flown in from somewhere that still had summer, and to everyone in the room they looked perfect. Blush-heavy. Half-open. Expensive. But Eve had arranged flowers for eleven years — for weddings, for funerals, and for the parties of people who confused the two — and she could see what the room could not: that the peonies had been cut a day too late, and had opened as far as they were ever going to open. It is a small talent. It is the only one anybody has ever let her have. Then she marries into the family that owns the glass. Into an apartment where nothing is permitted to die. Beside a man whose first wife has been dead three years and is still, in every way that matters, sitting in the chair by the window. Everyone in that house has agreed on what happened to her. Eve can see where the story was cut a day too late. The question is what she is going to do about it.

The day Nora Keller finalizes her divorce — from the charming executive who, she's just learned, only ever married her because she looked like the woman he actually wanted — a very serious seven-year-old eats her food at her street stall, declares it "tastes like a mom," and informs her that his father is single, excellent, and available. Cornered by a toxic family betting on her failure, Nora marries the boy's father the same afternoon: a cold, grieving widower who says he's a mid-level nobody and is, in fact, the richest man in New York. He married a stranger to get his family off his back and to give his lonely son the one thing money couldn't buy. She married him for a roof and a fresh start. Neither of them planned to fall for each other one home-cooked dinner at a time — and neither of them is ready for the day her ruined ex, her grasping family, and Gabriel's own carefully kept secret all come due at once.

She spent thirteen years earning a love that was never coming. June Kaplan died on a rain-slick parkway with her daughter asleep in the back seat and forty pages of divorce papers on the passenger seat — papers she had never been able to hand to anybody. Then she woke up at sixteen, in the house where her mother was poisoned, with every memory intact. This time she will not ask anyone for anything. She has thirteen years of knowledge and one rule: no minute of her life goes to a man who priced it. She will take back her mother's name, her mother's company, and the truth about what happened in a greenhouse — and she will do all of it in daylight, in front of witnesses, where nothing can be taken back. But August Reyes-Vance is sixteen too. He does not remember. He was not given that. He simply begins waking at four in the morning, weeping for a woman he has never met, in a life he cannot account for — and then he begins to follow her, and he does not know why, and he will not ask. He will follow her for eleven years. He will never once tell her.

Six hundred years ago, the Queen of the Dead was betrayed and destroyed. Now she's back, and the boy she once saved has become a king. Morwenna ruled the Hollow, the realm of the restless dead that haunts the living world's nightmares, until the church's founding saint tore out her soul-fire. She wakes six centuries later in the body of a murdered copyist in the living kingdom she always longed to walk freely. It's nothing like the storybooks. There's a red-cloaked general with a secret bloodline, a drugged Holy Maiden, a puppeteer who is both traitor and savior, a merfolk empress with an empire to win, and a divine envoy losing his divinity to help her. There's also Caius, the starving boy she once sheltered, who is now the dread King of the Dead. He has hidden his devotion to her for six hundred years, and he has paid a terrible price to bring her back. When Morwenna is anointed the new Holy Maiden, he kneels before the whole cathedral and swears his soul to her. Not to the title. To her. A lush, epic romantic fantasy of betrayal, resurrection, and a love that would not stay dead.

Rule one of surviving a dark fantasy novel: tell the villain you love him. Rule two: don't mean it. Chicago insurance adjuster Mack Doyle is dragged into a novel by a smug, glitchy "Narrative Compliance System." It casts her as the throwaway girl who dies in chapter three, and when she arrives the villain's knife is already at her throat. So Mack says the only thing that might save her: "I love you." Lucian Marrow, cold and feared ruler of New Orleans' hidden witch underworld, believes her. That's his first mistake. Mack treats the plot like a claims file. She beats Lucian to every treasure and lucky break the story saved for him, then sells each one back to him at a markup. When the System tries to cheat her, she makes it pay double. But the better Lucian gets to know her, the more he realizes her love was a lie. And the villain who never needed anyone starts to fall apart. A fast, funny, magic-soaked romance about a woman who reads the fine print, and a man who learns to earn a love with no conditions.

Kit Vance has killed nine people and felt nothing. Taken off the street at eight, he was raised by a Chicago crime boss to be the perfect weapon. His only secret is the shelf of trashy romance novels hidden behind a panel in his closet. Then he is sent to silence an eight-year-old witness, and she offers him her last piece of candy because he looks sad. He can't do it. He runs with her, takes three bullets to protect her, and wakes up falling out of a pear tree into his favorite novel, right on top of an assassination. The bleeding man he saves is Lucien Varre, the brooding Lord Protector of a powdered Baltic kingdom, the villain-hero Kit has read about eleven times and the man the author doomed to die on the cathedral steps in the snow. Kit knows every poisoned cup, every forged letter, every traitor coming. So he becomes the regent's bodyguard and starts quietly rewriting the plot, snarking his way through duels, masquerades and the dreaded one-bed inn. But the more he changes, the less he knows, and the cold, suspicious regent is starting to look at him as if he were the only light in the room. Across two worlds, a little girl is still waiting for Kit to come back. And the story is about to demand a death on those steps. Funny, fierce and full of heart, this is a love story about two men who were written by someone else, and who choose to write themselves.

Fern Renshaw landed the job — a real desk in a mid-size city’s planning office, a humble background she’s still learning not to apologize for, and one quiet ambition: to do good work and rise by doing it, so no one could ever say she didn’t earn every inch. She brings her own good coffee, keeps her head down, and has decided her small careful life is enough. Someone is about to notice her anyway. Graham Sedgwick plans for the hundred-year storm. Thirty-six, reserved, precise, quietly funny, he runs a regional authority with no power over Fern’s office — the two agencies only meet at the river. He’s a catch, widely pursued, presumed destined for someone suitable, and he’d stopped checking whether the quiet of his life was contentment. Then a young woman spills an overstuffed file across the City Hall steps and apologizes, out loud, to the folder — and a man who never once planned for wanting something goes completely underwater. He courts her the only way he’ll allow: honorably, without leverage, wanting her quietly at a scrupulous distance. Fern lets herself be seen, and want, and they build the one clean thing two people in public service can — you rise on your own merit; my standing never touches your career; and we never decide alone for the two of us. Which is exactly what they both break, the same night, at the budget hearing — she publicly disavows him to protect him; he quietly pulls a string to protect her. Neither of them grovels to fix it. He unwinds the string and discloses everything in the open; she stops shrinking and reclaims her standing on the merits. A sweet, slow-burn, age-gap municipal-government romance about being seen. Single 1v1, low heat, HEA, one late fade-to-black.

She was the greatest sword-mage of her age. Now she's a starving scavenger on a junk planet, and the galaxy isn't ready. Seraphine Vale, grandmaster of a hidden order of sword-mages, attempts the final trial of ascension. She's struck down by a storm that comes once in ten thousand years. She wakes more than a thousand years later in the body of a teenage scrap scavenger on Tailings, a forgotten dump world of a starfaring Federation ruled by mechs, warships, and military academies. And her magic still works. Barely. So she does the only thing that makes sense. She refounds her order in a rusted shipping container, takes in three misfit kids as disciples, and enrolls them at the worst-ranked cadet academy in the Federation. Nobody expects them to win a single match at the Federation Academy Games. Then a Swarm invasion falls from the sky, and flying swords rise to meet it. A funny, action-packed science-fantasy adventure about found family, underdogs, and one very stubborn grandmaster.

Nell Merrick woke up in the wrong life. A stranger's soul had worn her face for six years — wrecked her health, torched her name, burned every bridge with her wealthy family — and then, at the end of a very bad night, let go, leaving Nell the ruin and the debt. The whole city has already filed her as the Merricks' fat, friendless disgrace. A reality show casts her as the "control group": the untalented baseline their golden children shine against. The internet makes her a punchline. They have no idea the girl who just woke up behind her eyes came back from a whole other lifetime — with a healer's hands, a scholar's mind, and absolutely nothing left to prove to any of them. She won't argue the verdict. She'll replace it. Quietly, from zero, one impossible thing at a time — until the two most serious institutions in the country claim her as a rare talent, the family that gave up on her is on its knees, and the brilliant, self-destructing outcast no one else will sit with is the only one who saw her first. Someone has been steering her ruin for six years. They picked the wrong girl to bury.