ISSUE 8: APRIL 2018

  Lezli Robyn & Tina Smith, Editors

  Shahid Mahmud, Publisher

  Published by Arc Manor/Heart’s Nest Press

  P.O. Box 10339

  Rockville, MD 20849-0339

  Heart’s Kiss is published in February, April, June, August, October and December.

  Please refer to our website for submission requirements.

  All material is either copyright © 2018 by Arc Manor LLC, Rockville, MD, or copyright © by the respective authors as indicated within the magazine. All rights reserved.

  This magazine (or any portion of it) may not be copied or reproduced, in whole or in part, by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Available by subscription (www.HeartsKiss.com) or through your favorite online store.

  ISBN: 978-1-61242-409-5

  Advertising in the magazine is available. Quarter page (half column), $95 per issue. Half page (full column, vertical or two half columns, horizontal) $165 per issue. Full page (two full columns) $295 per issue. Back Cover (full color) $495 per issue. All interior advertising is in black and white.

  FOREIGN LANGUAGE RIGHTS: Please refer all inquiries pertaining to foreign language rights to Shahid Mahmud, Arc Manor, P.O. Box 10339, Rockville, MD 20849-0339. Tel: 1-240-645-2214. Fax 1-310-388-8440. Email admin@ArcManor.com.

  www.HeartsKiss.com

  Contents

  .

  EDITOR’S NOTE by Lezli Robyn

  BEFORE I FALL by L. Penelope

  JACK’S DAY by Juliet Marillier

  I AM HERE FOR YOU by Olivette Devaux

  A WHEELCHAIR AND A UNICYCLE AT FANEUIL HALL by D. H. Hendrickson

  CINDERELLA FELL FOR A FELLA by Melinda Curtis

  SUSAN SHAVES by Kate Capulet

  BLOOD IN, BLOOD OUT by Brenda Novak

  LOVE THAT: BRENDA NOVAK'S EVERY OCCASSION COOKBOOK (non-fiction) by Brenda Novak with Jan Coad

  HEART’S KISS INTERVIEWS MARIE FORCE by Lezli Robyn

  DELIRIOUS (excerpt) by Marie Force

  YOU READ THAT?: DARK FANTASIES (non-fiction) by Julie Pitzel

  RECOMMENDED BOOKS by C.S. DeAvilla

  WARDEN OF SIGHT (part 2, serialization) by Anna J. Stewart

  CLOSING EDITORIAL by Tina Smith

  EDITOR’S NOTE

  by Lezli Robyn

  Heart’s Kiss starts off a new issue with a heartfelt thank you to our new readers out there who purchased Issue 7. Tina and I are committed to showing our readers how beautiful love is, in all its forms. This issue contains an erotic F/F story by new writer Kate Capulet, as well as a M/M romance, too, set in the Czech Republic, the ancestral homeland of the story’s author, Olivette Devaux. Not only that, but L. Penelope is back again with another novelette in her Before I series, this time a new adult piece that is as erotic as it is sweet.

  But as our romance readers know—love is more than what happens in the bedroom, Tina and I ensured our readers are immersed in stories of all heat levels, to show the full gamut of what the romance genre has to offer. The gentle, but evocative, story of abiding love by acclaimed author Juliet Marillier, is rich with Aussie spirit and written with such sensitivity that there is no doubt why Juliet’s books have captured the hearts of so many readers. We also have another reimagined fairytale by Harlequin author Melinda Curtis, and the next installment of Anna J. Stewart’s Warden series, where the second of a trio of sisters meets her hero for a chance at a happily ever after.

  I can tell you now, I get paid to edit this magazine within my 9-5 work hours, but I often cannot wait for the next work day to devour a new story by one of our authors. The minute I hear that distinctive ping! of a new email I’m salivating and waiting for my first spare moment at the end of the night to curl up with a hot chocolate, a cuddly chiweenie and the latest submission to Heart’s Kiss. Who could have thought my work as an editor could bring such pleasure to me as a reader?

  Tina and I couldn’t have been more delighted to buy our first story from D. H. Hendrickson, which shows us true love, even at first blush, doesn’t care about physical limitations—nor should it. Our hero might be seeing his future partner for the first time while she’s seated in a wheelchair, but all he sees is her strength—of character, mind and body. I wanted to read more about this couple.

  An interview with the New York Times and USA Today bestselling contemporary author, Marie Force, along with an excerpt from one of her recently published books, Delirious, also enticed me to seek out more words by that writer; I was buying the full edition of her book before we had sent this issue off to be typeset. Add C.S. DeAvilla’s list of Recommended Books to the mix, and Tina and I have no doubt our readers’ To Be Read pile will be stacked higher by issue’s end.

  For there is one thing we’re proud of, and that is the caliber of our writers. And you could not be of a higher caliber than Brenda Novak. Not only are we thrilled to be featuring her short story “Blood in, Blood out” in this issue, which ties into her Bulletproof series of novels, but will be publishing a recipe from her cookbook--Perfect for Date Night With Your Loved One. They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, who better to get irresistible recipes from than a New York Times and USA Today bestseller romance author? She was even just announced a finalist for the 2018 short form Contemporary Romance RITA Award. (Congratulations!)

  On that note, I will leave you to devour this issue at your leisure. We hope you find the contents as delicious as we did!

  L. Penelope has been writing since she could hold a pen and loves getting lost in the worlds in her head. She is an award-winning fantasy and paranormal romance author. She lives in Maryland with her husband and their furry dependents. Sign up for new release information, updates, and giveaways on her website: http://www.lpenelope.com. We welcome her to the pages of Heart’s Kiss.

  BEFORE I FALL

  by L. Penelope

  Head pounding along with the bass line, Renee crossed the congested living room dance floor and disappeared into the darkened hallway. She was still sober and couldn’t blame alcohol for the haze that covered her mind. In the shadows, a couple writhed in one another’s arms. She looked away—they obviously didn’t care about privacy, but maybe if she’d averted her eyes a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have discovered Khalil in basically the exact same position, sticking his tongue down another girl’s throat.

  Jesus, what if he was here?

  Part of her had felt relief when she discovered them. Khalil’s hands on her own body had never quite felt right. And his tongue caressing hers had never made her quiver the way she always hoped she would.

  Oddly unsteady in her five-inch heels, she carefully negotiated the uneven wooden floor. This old Victorian on the edge of campus had seen better days. It had at least a dozen drafty rooms. Paint peeled from the walls in patches that looked like water damage. She hoped it wasn’t mold.

  Students carved up these houses and split the outrageous rents among as many as ten people. They made great party houses now that so many of the fraternities were on lock down for hazing. This wasn’t the same house in which she’d discovered Khalil playing tonsil tennis, but at a certain point, all the turrets and peaks ran together.

  Thinking about all the parties she and Khalil had attended made Renee’s stomach clench. Her heart wasn’t broken, but her pride was. They’d been a super couple, that’s the only reason she’d put up with his bullshit for so long. His heavy breaths always panting in her ear, the way his cold fingers slid up and down her skin. She shook off a chill thinking about it. She had no idea how she’d lasted almost a year with him. Whoever that skank was giving him mouth-to-mouth, she could have him.

  But now Renee felt adrift. Their friends had intermingled and since Khalil was slightly more popular—being a starting attack on the lacrosse team—he trumped whatever Renee’s family, looks, and reputation brought to the situation. Now, she’d been on her own for the past few weeks, something she wasn’t accustomed to.

  The thump of the beat made her head spin. Everywhere she turned there were people grinding, or making out, or playing some kind of drinking game. Instead of oblivion, tonight she craved something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She could have stayed home, but staring at the four walls of her single room for almost a month had gotten old. Being naturally social, she wanted to be around people—she just needed to figure out who, exactly.

  An Asian girl with purple dreadlocks brushed by her, bumping her shoulder. “Sorry,” the girl said, giggling. The little bells strung into her locks jingled merrily. Her purple, glittery eyeshadow matched her lipstick.

  Renee took a step back. “It’s okay.”

  The girl grinned and then raced up the steps in a cloud of fruit-scented shampoo.

  “And I thought my heels were high,” Renee muttered. But her stilettos had nothing on the other girl’s insane purple platform boots.

  Renee looked up the darkened stairwell, then behind her at the party she didn’t want to be at. After a moment’s indecision, she climbed the creaking stairs. The old wood shifted worryingly under her feet.

  She was disappointed to find the second floor only slightly less crowded. A line snaked out from the bathroom, and the distinctive sounds of people hooking up rang out
behind at least two of the doors. Another staircase led to a third level, but the purple dreadlocked girl was marking it off with yellow police tape reading: CAUTION! DO NOT CROSS!

  “What’s up there?” Renee asked, craning her neck to peer up into the dark.

  The girl turned and shrugged. “Dunno. But it must be something really bad considering the tape and all.”

  “But you just put the tape there.” Renee pointed.

  The girl scrunched her nose and tilted her head to the side. “Did I?”

  “I just saw you.” Renee turned to see if anyone else was hearing this, but nobody was paying attention to the two of them.

  When she turned back around, the girl was gone.

  There was no way Miss Dreadlocks could have gotten by Renee, who was standing directly in front of the steps. But she couldn’t have gone up either, not in less than a second—not in those shoes, without making any noise, when every section of the floor in the house creaked. It was like she’d vanished into thin air.

  Renee considered the tape. If nothing else, it should mean fewer people going up there. The most likely explanation—that didn’t involve the girl beaming back onto the starship she probably arrived on—was that Miss Dreads’ room was upstairs and she just didn’t want anyone bothering her.

  But Renee wasn’t going to bother anyone. She was just going to have a look around, maybe enjoy a little quiet for a few minutes and then head home.

  She slipped off her shoes and climbed under the tape.

  The third floor was small, there were only three doors off the hallway, and it was thankfully empty. She pushed the first door open to find a tiny bathroom, its sloping ceiling meant you’d have to either be really short to shower in here or be okay bending over and hunching down. But the porcelain pedestal sink looked original and so did the black and white tile, only slightly chipped.

  There was a bottle of combination shampoo and conditioner in the shower and not much else. No evidence that a girl used this bathroom.

  The second door off the hallway was missing a doorknob so she passed it on the way to the third. She paused outside, listening. The music from below still vibrated through the walls, but was muted up here, it could have been happening outside or down the street just as easily.

  The curiosity that had overtaken her could be explained by the fact that she was a naturally nosy person. One of her nannies had nicknamed her Harriet, after Harriet the Spy, and Renee hadn’t even protested.

  So she blamed her natural inquisitiveness as the reason she turned the knob and pushed open the door.

  From the corner of the stairwell, Delilah watches the human girl enter the bedroom. She has temporarily traded in her physical body, with all of its color and pretty decorations, for her natural form—a smoke-like wisp of elemental energy. Though she would much prefer to be purple, stealth is necessary to observe the progress of her mission. A disembodied wisp of colorful smoke would not be incognito.

  Her first assignment for the Guild did not exactly go well. Delilah can’t afford another mistake, or the dream she’s had since her inception of becoming a full-fledged member of the Cupid Guild will never come true.

  The roll of yellow tape she acquired from the Requisitions Department hovers in the shadows next to her insubstantial body. At least she had anticipated her target’s nature correctly. All the girl needed was a push. Delilah’s elemental form cannot smile in satisfaction, though she imagines herself doing so.

  Not until the bedroom door eventually closes does she fade into the darkness and leave.

  Milo looked up when the door opened. The lock had broken just that morning and he hadn’t had a chance to fix it. He figured he’d be flooded with drunk kids busting into his room, but hadn’t had any interruptions—until now.

  The girl standing in his doorway didn’t look smashed. Straightened, black hair fell past her shoulders and the dress she wore was form fitting, but not a cry for attention. She was barefoot, with vicious looking heels clutched in one hand, but she didn’t wobble or sway. She just stared at him with wide eyes.

  He had an assortment of sarcastic statements at the ready for these instances, but they all fell out of his head.

  “The bathroom’s across the hall.” He pointed behind her. She looked over her shoulder then turned back and stepped fully into the room, closing the door. Milo’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Um, sorry to bother you,” she said. She had a cheerleader quality about her—small bones with a perky nose, like an ebony-skinned pixie—but instead of the high-pitched, girly voice that her frame suggested, she spoke with a pleasant alto. He bet if she broke into song, she would enrapture any audience.

  “But?” he asked.

  “What?” She squinted.

  “You’re sorry to bother me, but you will anyway?”

  She ducked her head, looking apologetic and he felt a little bad, but seriously, what was she doing barging into his room? He couldn’t stop his roommates from hosting these crazy parties, but he’d learned after being in college for two years how to survive them. Just stay away.

  “Why aren’t you at the party?” she asked, inching closer. She didn’t recognize him, that much was clear, so what was with her? Why was she even interested?

  He shrugged. “Not my thing.” He closed the book he’d been reading and turned fully to face her. “What about you?”

  Her face shuttered. She was standing in the middle of the room looking lost—he wasn’t sure why she was there but suddenly he didn’t want her to go. He had an overwhelming need to know what had brought her here into his room in the middle of one of the campus’s epic parties.

  “It used to be my thing. But lately…” She shrugged and looked around, then sidled closer to his bookcase and pointed to the light switch next to it. “Do you mind?” she asked, but flipped the switch before he could answer. The overhead light came on, the one that flattened the entire room making everything looked washed out.

  Milo popped up and flicked on the floor lamp, then went over and turned the overhead light back off. She stood next to him looking up and up. It was true he towered over most people, but he felt like a giant next to her. She must be a full foot shorter.

  She smiled and bent down. When she rose back up she was much closer to his height—she’d put on her shoes. Though they still only brought her up to his chin.

  “Renee.” She held out her hand. He stared for a second before grabbing it. She shook his hand firmly and fireworks shot off under his skin. The sensation was so surprising, he took a step back. She tilted her head at him, and his face flamed. He cleared his throat and squeezed her hand again before letting go. No fireworks this time, maybe that was a low blood sugar thing.

  “Milo.”

  Her face cracked into another grin. “Milo,” she repeated. “Cool name.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Not boring and normal like Renee. When I was younger, I wanted to change my name to something more dramatic…”

  “But?” He was suddenly interested in everything about her.

  She shrugged, running her finger across the spines of the books on his shelf. “I couldn’t think of anything. My parents wouldn’t have let me anyway. Names have power they always said.”

  He watched with fascination as she traced his books. Her nails were sparkly and blue, but short, not the fake claws lots of girls wore. “Renee means reborn. It’s a good name.”

  She looked up at him and he noticed her eyes were a clear light brown, lighter than her brown skin. He swallowed.

  “What does Milo mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  The corners of her lips turned up and her brow furrowed. Her expression was a contradiction, sort of the way she was shaping up to be. “It has to mean something.”

  He turned slightly so he wouldn’t stare at her; for some reason he couldn’t tear his eyes away and didn’t want her to think he was a creeper. Though he felt like one. Especially since he’d do anything to keep her here longer, to talk to her more. The thought scared him.

  “It’s based on the name Miles, which means either soldier or merciful, but in and of itself it’s sort of just made up.”