A CEO must marry the lost love of his life before corporate vampires feast on his son. Blood in the Coffee The espresso machine gave a final, wheezing sigh as Freya Ashford hit the shut-off switch. Steam curled into the…
He lost her nine years ago. He never knew he had a son. He’ll burn Hollywood to save them. The Boy in the Drawing The corner booth gave him sightlines to both doors—the sidewalk entrance and the service exit the…
A hidden son, a stolen ledger, and a disgraced father who refuses to run. The Boy at the Counter The Grindstone sat at the corner of Mercer and Third, a squat brick building with a chalkboard menu and the permanent…
He lost her once. Now a hidden son, a vengeful dynasty, and a second chance to fight for everything. The Ghost at the Counter The downtown coffee spot was the kind of place Julian Blackwood normally avoided. It smelled of…
He found the son he never knew. To keep them alive, he must destroy the Covingtons. The Boy Who Drew Wolves Rowan Voss pushed through the door of Red Oak Coffee and the winter came in with him. The bell…
One forgotten night left a son she hid. One dangerous contract may be all that keeps them alive. The Boy at Table Four The café smelled of burnt sugar and desperation, the kind of mid-morning lull that made baristas polish…
A hidden son. A corporate vampire. One disgraced protector must burn the Whitmore contract before dawn. The Boy in the Coffee Shop He was counting ceiling tiles when the door chimed. Three hundred and fourteen. A nothing number, but arithmetic…
Eight years ago, Iris vanished with his child. Now the Pembertons want them both — dead or alive. The Coffee-Stained Ledger Adrian Crane had been in the coffee shop eleven minutes when he decided the barista’s name tag was a…
A seven-year-old’s drawing is the map to a conspiracy—and the proof of a father he never met. The World Between The coffee shop smelled of burnt espresso and wet wool. Caden Harlow sat in the corner booth, the one with…
One hidden son. One stolen ledger. The Aldridge family wants them both dead. The Face Behind the Glass The coffee shop smelled of burnt sugar and rain-damp coats, a Tuesday-morning crush of commuters and freelancers hunched over lattes. Rowan Rutherford…