What Is The Novel Spring-Heeled Jack About?

I had spent years paying for Damian Grant’s infertility in every way a woman could. Doctors, treatments, private clinics, and humiliation I swallowed in silence. Then, against every odd, I finally got pregnant. It was the child the Grant family had been waiting for. The miracle Madam Evelyn Grant had prayed for. The one thing Damian had been told he might never have. On the night before our wedding, I saw a local post climbing the trending list. [Another day of being the only girl who gets under my boss’s skin.] In the video, a young woman smiled sweetly at the camera. [My boss is terrifying to everyone else. Cold eyes, bad temper, the whole package. But today, during a meeting, I secretly stepped on his shoe under the table. He actually smiled at me. Then he texted me and told me to behave.] The comments were full of people swooning. [That has to be love. A man like that only softens for one woman.] [Look closely. There must be some little detail on him that belongs only to you.] I scrolled down and saw the influencer’s reply. It was a photo of a dark silver tie clip pinned right over her chest. [This is the gift he gave me. He said whenever I see it, I should think of him.] I stared at that tie clip for a long time. It was the engagement gift I had spent a month polishing by hand for Damian. And inside it, there was still a tiny heart made from his fingerprint and mine.

Jack Goldsmith wants a mate. He is sick of being alone. Jack is the only wild wolf in the United Kingdom - Werewolf or otherwise. According to his father, he was an aberration, his mother died giving birth to him and his father had never forgiven him. Superstition was rife in the 1600s when he was born and he grew rapidly, not like the other children. Rumours spread of witchcraft, and though his father was caught, Jack escaped to live his life alone - until now. SaffronTalbot has inherited her grandmother's cottage in the wilds of the Yorkshire countryside. As an empath, Saffron Talbot is looking for a new life - and she is going to get it, but it's not the life she ever imagined. She's a nature-loving girl and the pressures of the city of London make her feel ill. The number of people, the buildings so close together, and the noises make her feel increasingly ill. If she dares go out, her headphones are clamped to her head and the darkest sun-glasses she can find cover her eyes. Her neighbours think she is the local weirdo when they see her marching along the street with her head down to avoid making contact. Moving to Yorkshire to the cottage her grandmother has left her will be the beginning of her life - in more ways than one.

There were two famous deadweights in Kingsgate's high society. One was me, Millie Tanner, the pampered little princess whose only talents were shopping and throwing parties. The other was my childhood friend, Iver Langford, the fragile young heir born with autism and congenital heart failure. However, my older brother was the most feared name in the underworld, and my second brother was the richest man in the country. Iver's older sister was the undefeated queen of the courtroom, and his second sister was a surgeon whose hands could bring back the dead. One day, the four of them were chatting over a game of poker. "Raising one hopeless case takes the same effort as two. Might as well pair them off." Just like that, Iver and I signed the marriage papers. Our married life consisted of maxing out my second brother's credit cards, raiding my older brother's dinner table, and waiting for his sisters to show up with care packages. That was the routine, until my older brother sent us to attend a banquet at the Crestport tycoon's estate in his place. At the banquet, the tycoon's daughter, Portia Beaumont, waved around a blurry photo taken from behind and insisted I was the other woman who had stolen her boyfriend. I kept my temper. "You have the wrong person. I'm married, and this is my husband." Portia lost it on the spot and swung at me. "Married and still out here throwing yourself at men?" Iver stepped in front of me on instinct and took the slap meant for me. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. She sneered, "Oh, is he slow? His wife's out cheating and he can't even tell, but he still jumps in to protect her? One's a tramp, and the other's an idiot. The perfect match!" She flicked her wrist, and several bodyguards lunged toward us. "Get them both." My heart ached as I looked at Iver, and I dialed my older brother's number. "Someone's picking on me." These people had no idea. Crossing the four terrors of Kingsgate and living to tell about it was one thing. Messing with the two of us was something else entirely.

Jack Charles: I was alone, but I was happy at least. My life revolved around my family and my studies, and I didn't need anyone else in my life. But Daniel... he barged into my life and turned it upside down. He showed me what love was, what happiness was and just when I threw myself deep into the abyss, he showed me his true colors. For him, I was just a project. A bet to win my heart and then leave me alone forever. I gave him everything. I gave him my money, my lavish lifestyle. I gave him my first time too because I thought it was all love.... Now, I hate him to the core, and I have decided to move on with my life and it's better that I didn't tell him the biggest secret of my life, because I am sure I would have made a fool out of myself. It's an angst, Friend to Enemies to Lovers book with a happy ending. No third act cheating but trigger warning of abuse, mention of rape and physical Assault. It is M-preg book so proceed accordingly. Tabby

Jack Saunders wanted one last hurrah before taking the mantle of DS Oil & Gas, the billion-dollar company that his father founded. His friend, Owen, let him borrow his mansion on a tropical island so that he could throw a final party before “marrying” the business that would dominate the rest of his life. He brought his secretary, Brandy, hoping that he could kindle a relationship that would last through the long days and nights of running a company. However, while the party was great, the gold digging woman he brought was not, and Jack resigned himself to a lifetime of loneliness. That was until he took a walk down the beach and met her. A woman who didn’t recognize him from the tabloids and only saw him, the man behind the money. Of all the women Jack had ever met, there was nobody like Emma LaRue. With one pretend marriage ceremony, she would change his life forever, and become the only one he ever wanted to give his saltwater kisses to. This novella is the first half of Saltwater Kisses written from Jack’s point-of-view, with a few bonus scenes thrown in as well.

After the Ferguson family went bankrupt, I gave up everything I had and followed Ethan Ferguson to Stormbay. Five years later, he had fought his way back into the top three on the Forbes rich list. He rebuilt the empire everyone believed he had lost for good. He never mentioned marriage, no matter how much we had been through together. I did not understand the reason until the night before Memorial Day. I woke after midnight and saw Ethan standing alone on the terrace of our beachfront house. The cold ocean wind swept through the darkness while he lit three white candles one by one. Their flames flickered softly against the night. He faced the distant horizon across the sea and lowered his voice. “Mom, Dad… I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you again this year.” He paused, and his expression softened. “However, please keep watching over Vivi. Keep her healthy… and bless the two of us with a long, happy life together.” Warmth spread through my chest as I listened. My health had never been good, and every year near Memorial Day, Ethan refused to let me exhaust myself with the long trip home. He always went alone to visit his parents’ graves while I stayed behind in Stormbay. This year, when I saw the homesickness in his eyes, I decided to surprise him. I wanted to make the trip in his place. I never expected my entire world to collapse the moment I arrived at the cemetery. Ethan’s name was carved into the headstone. Beside it was the name of another woman. Olivia Ferguson. My gaze drifted lower. A framed family photograph sat at the foot of the headstone. Its edges had curled from the ocean wind. In the picture, Ethan held a little blond-haired boy in his arms. The child looked no older than three. Olivia stood beside him, smiling softly at the camera. A sharp pain cut through my chest. Only then did I understand the truth. The “Vivi” Ethan prayed for was never Vivian. It had been Olivia all along.