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ALL
CRESCENT CREEK NOVELLAS HAVE RETURNING CHARACTERS,
BUT CAN BE READ AS
STAND ALONES.
His
Midnight Sun
Midnight Sun
Crescent
Creek Book 3
Creek Book 3
by
Viviana MacKade
Viviana MacKade
Genre:
Romantic Suspense
Romantic Suspense
Tormented,
fierce, and broken, sculptor Aidan Murphy has judged himself guilty.
He yearns for love but pushes everyone away. He longs for acceptancebut has lost the key to open his heart. Until he meets Summer
Williams. Beautiful and smart, Dr. Williams promises haven for a man
who believes he deserves none. All he has to do is let her in and
risk his heart and soul.
fierce, and broken, sculptor Aidan Murphy has judged himself guilty.
He yearns for love but pushes everyone away. He longs for acceptancebut has lost the key to open his heart. Until he meets Summer
Williams. Beautiful and smart, Dr. Williams promises haven for a man
who believes he deserves none. All he has to do is let her in and
risk his heart and soul.
Summer’s
managed to keep her inner light alive, even through tragedy. She’s
created a new life for herself and her daughter in Crescent Creek
with loving, caring and fun friends–well, except brooding,
breathtaking Aidan. She’s used to keeping away from his type,
though. All she has to do is ignore
the pull of a man who’s turning up to be much more than snarls and
storms. Will her compassion and medical instincts let her?
managed to keep her inner light alive, even through tragedy. She’s
created a new life for herself and her daughter in Crescent Creek
with loving, caring and fun friends–well, except brooding,
breathtaking Aidan. She’s used to keeping away from his type,
though. All she has to do is ignore
the pull of a man who’s turning up to be much more than snarls and
storms. Will her compassion and medical instincts let her?
Love
can heal a broken soul and shake up a timid heart. Or it can unleash
devastation and a thirst for revenge.
can heal a broken soul and shake up a timid heart. Or it can unleash
devastation and a thirst for revenge.
Will
Aidan and Summer survive the storm?
Aidan and Summer survive the storm?
**Only
.99 cents!!**
.99 cents!!**
Painted
Love
Love
Crescent
Creek Book 2
Creek Book 2
Thou
shalt not steal.
shalt not steal.
Oh,
but Florence had, and would do so one last time.
but Florence had, and would do so one last time.
Ten
pieces her grandfather painted for her because he loved her.
pieces her grandfather painted for her because he loved her.
Ten
pieces her mother lost, along with anything else, for loving the
wrong man.
pieces her mother lost, along with anything else, for loving the
wrong man.
She
couldn’t get back everything he’d wasted away, but she’d be
damned if she’d give up those paintings.
couldn’t get back everything he’d wasted away, but she’d be
damned if she’d give up those paintings.
Easy
and genuine, Rhett loves his life–his family, his market, his town.
Until he meets a British woman with grey eyes and a cute little
smile. The woman he’s been waiting for.
and genuine, Rhett loves his life–his family, his market, his town.
Until he meets a British woman with grey eyes and a cute little
smile. The woman he’s been waiting for.
The
thing is, to love her is easy, but can he trust her?
thing is, to love her is easy, but can he trust her?
When
Rhett pushes to uncover her agenda, Flo knows she will lose
something–the man she loves or what she’d been fighting for
years.
Rhett pushes to uncover her agenda, Flo knows she will lose
something–the man she loves or what she’d been fighting for
years.
Which
road will she choose?
road will she choose?
**Only.99 cents!!**
All
Those Miles I Have Walked
Those Miles I Have Walked
Crescent
Creek Book 1
Creek Book 1
At
eighteen, DJ had to make a choice–her heart or her dreams. Neither
was wrong, yet either would break her heart. She chose the world.
Over a decade later, she returns to Crescent Creek and to the one
regret she’s ever had–Scott. Scott’s always been steady as a
rocky reef. He’d loved once and when she’d left, his strong heart
had crumbled like a sandcastle. Now DJ is back, and Scott wants
nothing to do with her. The problem? They share Eva, a close friend
of both, and now Eva needs their help. Because of her, he’s stuck
with DJ and he’d be damned, the woman still gets under his skin. DJ
is a free spirit who needs the road under her feet. Scott is a family
man who wants to groom his roots. With danger on their doorstep and a
baby to keep safe, how much are they willing to compromise for love?
eighteen, DJ had to make a choice–her heart or her dreams. Neither
was wrong, yet either would break her heart. She chose the world.
Over a decade later, she returns to Crescent Creek and to the one
regret she’s ever had–Scott. Scott’s always been steady as a
rocky reef. He’d loved once and when she’d left, his strong heart
had crumbled like a sandcastle. Now DJ is back, and Scott wants
nothing to do with her. The problem? They share Eva, a close friend
of both, and now Eva needs their help. Because of her, he’s stuck
with DJ and he’d be damned, the woman still gets under his skin. DJ
is a free spirit who needs the road under her feet. Scott is a family
man who wants to groom his roots. With danger on their doorstep and a
baby to keep safe, how much are they willing to compromise for love?
She
Came With the Tide
Came With the Tide
Crescent
Creek Book 0.5
Creek Book 0.5
He’s
impulsive, fearless, and fun loving.
impulsive, fearless, and fun loving.
Erik
Axelsson, Ax, had it all: talent, fame, money. He’d lived the rock
& roll life fully and with gusto until it wasn’t fun anymore.
Without a second thought, he’d traded the spotlight with the
Floridian sun, and the guitar with a surfboard. Rich, and free from
anything – what more he could need?
Axelsson, Ax, had it all: talent, fame, money. He’d lived the rock
& roll life fully and with gusto until it wasn’t fun anymore.
Without a second thought, he’d traded the spotlight with the
Floridian sun, and the guitar with a surfboard. Rich, and free from
anything – what more he could need?
She’s
innocent, scared, and in trouble.
innocent, scared, and in trouble.
Andrea
Smith escaped the life imposed to her when her parents joined a cult.
After years on the run, hunger pushed her to accept a stranger’s
offer for breakfast. She had no clue her life changed with that
simple ‘yes’.
Smith escaped the life imposed to her when her parents joined a cult.
After years on the run, hunger pushed her to accept a stranger’s
offer for breakfast. She had no clue her life changed with that
simple ‘yes’.
But
the past catches up with her, forcing Andrea to choose what person
she wants to be: the scared cult member that obeyed in silence, or
the new woman Erik made blossom.
the past catches up with her, forcing Andrea to choose what person
she wants to be: the scared cult member that obeyed in silence, or
the new woman Erik made blossom.
**Get
it FREE!**
it FREE!**
Beach
bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian
town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal
cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved
keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her
husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves
eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding,
hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.
bum and country music addicted, Viviana lives in a small Floridian
town with her husband and her son, her die-hard fans and personal
cheer squad. She spends her days between typing on her beloved
keyboard, playing in the pool with her boy, and eating whatever her
husband puts on her plate (the guy is that good, and she really loves
eating). Besides beaching, she enjoys long walks, horse-riding,
hiking, and pretty much whatever she can do outside with her family.
Chapter 1
Crescent Creek, early July.
With no fight left in him, Aidan Murphy sank down on the wooden floor of his home studio.
Done.
Aidan filled his burning sight with the finished, almost 7 feet tall piece of art. Hell to work on, pure and
simple, but it couldn’t be helped, not when it had called to him with such powerful voice.
Two weeks earlier, he’d been wandering around the stone-site when his skin began humming, and his
heart beating faster. Years of sculpting had taught him how to hear the calling, the silent scream of whatever
form lay trapped inside the rocks begging him to free it.
He’d followed his guts like so many times before and laying a palm on the cold, white alabaster, had
known something waited in there. He’d bought the squared monstrosity, never stopped working on it since
the day it had been delivered to his address. At every bite of the masonry blade, at every kiss of the chisel
and caress of the rasp, its voice had been easier to hear, pushing him, constantly pushing him to keep going,
keep working.
A couple had emerged from the stone and if beauty could hurt, by God, this one would in so many ways.
Those two people were set to break any viewer’s heart. Nothing happy or gleeful about them, nothing about
being lost in the fallacy of love; the pair stood in a tight embrace made of disillusion and reality. Rightfully
so, because wasn’t love just that? Another form of pain? A delusion?
Aidan shook his head. Whatever love was for the average person, these two people he’d given life to
scratched at the thick walls of his reticent heart. He didn’t care for such shit.
Much smarter to focus on his very real, very tired body.
Too bad the small motherfucker rock poked at the edge of his consciousness, staring from the opposite
side of the room.
Not the colossal couple he’d just freed from alabaster. Oh, no, the one giving him attitude was a stupid
overgrown pebble slightly smaller than his fist. Why was it even in the house? He’d cut outside, it made no
sense for it to be there. “Shut the fuck up,” he grumbled, rubbing exhausted eyes with scarred, dirty hands.
Never a stone’s call had been left unanswered, but… fuck it, it was too much, too soon. He needed time
to return human before starting a new project and besides, what could possibly be inside that little piece of
shit? A fucking bug? “Fuck off.”
Of course, the nagging didn’t stop.
Ignoring the silent pull to the useless stone, he got up, walked to the other side of the room, picked it up
and all but crashed it on his desk. “Better leave it alone, matey. Next time you bug me, I’ll turn you into
sable. Ugly fucker.”
Aches pulsed and hissed everywhere; a thin layer of dust, crumble of wax, and sweat covered him, made
his skin prickle. For all the good clothes had done to him, he might as well work buck naked next time.
Back in front of the new statue he stood, hands on hips, looking at it–tall and strong, fiercely beautiful in
its message of pain. Perfect.A sudden ray of light stabbed his eyes, made him jerk his head in protection. Fucking morning sun. Or
afternoon sun. He had no clue. It was hard to tell the passing of time when he got lost in the wild, strenuous
journey into the heart of a rock.
How many days had gone since it had been delivered and he’d started working on it, four? Probably
more as not bruising the stone had slowed everything down. He’d heard fireworks in the distance, so
Independence Day had come and gone. Hard to say how long had passed after it.
For days he’d eaten bread straight from the plastic bag or some other easy crap when hunger punched his
stomach; had drank lukewarm water from bottles scattered everywhere; slept on the couch when he made it
so far from the sculpture, although most of the times he’d pass out on the hard floor until discomfort woke
him up, and he’d go back at the rock again.
Ah, but what an adventure, he thought with awe as he ran a hand over the side of the sculpted woman.
Now he was done, meaning he didn’t want to have anything to do with stones for the near future.
He took a sharp intake of air when the little rock on his desk poked at his mind again. No clue as to
when but at some point, the cleaning crew would come, let’s see how the rock would like it. “If I throw you
back on the floor, they will get rid of you. That’s right, they’ll throw you away,” he croaked, his damned
throat hurting from not having talked in days.
Aidan sat down, stretched his aching legs in front of him, and tried to lean back on his arms; his muscles
screamed in protest.
Shit, he was in pieces, worse than usual.
Giving up, he laid on the dirty floor and closed his eyes–they scratched like sandpaper.
Bed. He craved a bed more than the next breath. Decent food. A shower. After that, the little stone
would stop being a bitch and leave him alone. It was only a fucking pebble, a leftover from the couple and
too small to have anything special in it, anyway.
He’d wait five minutes, no more, and he’d get up, order food, hit the shower and, finally, pass out on a
real bed. Satisfied with the carved couple, clean, and with a full belly.
Just five more minutes.
Crescent Creek, early July.
With no fight left in him, Aidan Murphy sank down on the wooden floor of his home studio.
Done.
Aidan filled his burning sight with the finished, almost 7 feet tall piece of art. Hell to work on, pure and
simple, but it couldn’t be helped, not when it had called to him with such powerful voice.
Two weeks earlier, he’d been wandering around the stone-site when his skin began humming, and his
heart beating faster. Years of sculpting had taught him how to hear the calling, the silent scream of whatever
form lay trapped inside the rocks begging him to free it.
He’d followed his guts like so many times before and laying a palm on the cold, white alabaster, had
known something waited in there. He’d bought the squared monstrosity, never stopped working on it since
the day it had been delivered to his address. At every bite of the masonry blade, at every kiss of the chisel
and caress of the rasp, its voice had been easier to hear, pushing him, constantly pushing him to keep going,
keep working.
A couple had emerged from the stone and if beauty could hurt, by God, this one would in so many ways.
Those two people were set to break any viewer’s heart. Nothing happy or gleeful about them, nothing about
being lost in the fallacy of love; the pair stood in a tight embrace made of disillusion and reality. Rightfully
so, because wasn’t love just that? Another form of pain? A delusion?
Aidan shook his head. Whatever love was for the average person, these two people he’d given life to
scratched at the thick walls of his reticent heart. He didn’t care for such shit.
Much smarter to focus on his very real, very tired body.
Too bad the small motherfucker rock poked at the edge of his consciousness, staring from the opposite
side of the room.
Not the colossal couple he’d just freed from alabaster. Oh, no, the one giving him attitude was a stupid
overgrown pebble slightly smaller than his fist. Why was it even in the house? He’d cut outside, it made no
sense for it to be there. “Shut the fuck up,” he grumbled, rubbing exhausted eyes with scarred, dirty hands.
Never a stone’s call had been left unanswered, but… fuck it, it was too much, too soon. He needed time
to return human before starting a new project and besides, what could possibly be inside that little piece of
shit? A fucking bug? “Fuck off.”
Of course, the nagging didn’t stop.
Ignoring the silent pull to the useless stone, he got up, walked to the other side of the room, picked it up
and all but crashed it on his desk. “Better leave it alone, matey. Next time you bug me, I’ll turn you into
sable. Ugly fucker.”
Aches pulsed and hissed everywhere; a thin layer of dust, crumble of wax, and sweat covered him, made
his skin prickle. For all the good clothes had done to him, he might as well work buck naked next time.
Back in front of the new statue he stood, hands on hips, looking at it–tall and strong, fiercely beautiful in
its message of pain. Perfect.A sudden ray of light stabbed his eyes, made him jerk his head in protection. Fucking morning sun. Or
afternoon sun. He had no clue. It was hard to tell the passing of time when he got lost in the wild, strenuous
journey into the heart of a rock.
How many days had gone since it had been delivered and he’d started working on it, four? Probably
more as not bruising the stone had slowed everything down. He’d heard fireworks in the distance, so
Independence Day had come and gone. Hard to say how long had passed after it.
For days he’d eaten bread straight from the plastic bag or some other easy crap when hunger punched his
stomach; had drank lukewarm water from bottles scattered everywhere; slept on the couch when he made it
so far from the sculpture, although most of the times he’d pass out on the hard floor until discomfort woke
him up, and he’d go back at the rock again.
Ah, but what an adventure, he thought with awe as he ran a hand over the side of the sculpted woman.
Now he was done, meaning he didn’t want to have anything to do with stones for the near future.
He took a sharp intake of air when the little rock on his desk poked at his mind again. No clue as to
when but at some point, the cleaning crew would come, let’s see how the rock would like it. “If I throw you
back on the floor, they will get rid of you. That’s right, they’ll throw you away,” he croaked, his damned
throat hurting from not having talked in days.
Aidan sat down, stretched his aching legs in front of him, and tried to lean back on his arms; his muscles
screamed in protest.
Shit, he was in pieces, worse than usual.
Giving up, he laid on the dirty floor and closed his eyes–they scratched like sandpaper.
Bed. He craved a bed more than the next breath. Decent food. A shower. After that, the little stone
would stop being a bitch and leave him alone. It was only a fucking pebble, a leftover from the couple and
too small to have anything special in it, anyway.
He’d wait five minutes, no more, and he’d get up, order food, hit the shower and, finally, pass out on a
real bed. Satisfied with the carved couple, clean, and with a full belly.
Just five more minutes.
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this looks like a book my wife would love