Bestsellers

This is a small selection of the novels I’ve been privileged to develop as an editor. Around half of these authors are independent, others write for traditional publishers like Harlequin and Thomas Mercer. All are internationalAmazon or USA Today bestselling authors.

 

  • It's a dirty job - but someone's got to do it. Robert Stephenson burns zombies for a living. It's a profession that pays the bills and plays tricks on the mind. Still, his life is routine until his four-year-old son becomes stranded in a quarantined zone, teeming with rotters. Does Rob have what it takes to fight the undead and put his broken family back together? Or will he also end up in the incinerator - burning with the rest of the dead?

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    It's a dirty job - but someone's got to do it. Robert Stephenson burns zombies for a living. It's a profession that pays the bills and plays tricks on the mind. Still, his life is routine until his four-year-old son becomes stranded in a quarantined zone, teeming with rotters. Does Rob have what it takes to fight the undead and put his broken family back together? Or will he also end up in the incinerator - burning with the rest of the dead?

    Steven Jenkins Burn the Dead

  • USS Ulysses: State-of-the-art nuclear submarine. Deterrent. Target. SAS trooper Jeff Bradley knows his past is once again casting a shadow over his new life. A note left by the assassin confirms his suspicions: Bradley made an enemy back in Kosovo, and the man is out for revenge. But Jeff knows the killer is not working alone: higher up the ranks sits Avni Leka, a terrorist warlord who will stop at nothing to achieve his bloody goal. And it’s not just Bradley who is under threat. A hijacking leads him to sense something bigger is

    being planned—a plot that, if successful, will end thousands of innocent lives, and could light the touchpaper of global conflict. He can’t allow it to happen. But events are spiralling out of control. Bradley knows he must reach the eye of the storm before it tears his world apart.

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    SAS trooper Jeff Bradley made an enemy back in Kosovo, and the man is out for revenge. But Jeff knows the killer is not working alone: higher up the ranks sits Avni Leka, a terrorist warlord who will stop at nothing to achieve his bloody goal. And it’s not just Bradley who is under threat. A hijacking leads him to sense something bigger is being planned—a plot that, if successful, will end thousands of innocent lives, and could light the touchpaper of global conflict.

    Thomas Ryan The Mark of Halam

  • The two men stared at her, and Fiona shivered under their scrutiny. Her heartbeat galloped. They thought she was a highwaywoman. She’d tried to explain, but they hadn’t believed her. And they were pointing a gun at her. One that might go off at any moment. She needed to seize control. The driver grinned. “I’m sorry, darling, but you won’t be getting any money from us.” “Not that we have any,” the handsome man added hastily. A gun roared. Fiona didn’t flinch—the peasants were still hunting. But the firm

    expression of the driver wobbled. “You’re not alone!” The driver’s voice trembled. Fiona was most certainly alone, but she could not permit the driver to keep on pointing a gun at her. That was how accidents occurred. This was her chance. And she seized it. Fiona forced her voice to remain steady. “Lay your gun down.” The driver hesitated, and then, another gun shot fired. Fiona narrowed her eyes. “You are surrounded. This is your final warning.” The driver’s hands shook, and he set the gun down. Relief

    flooded through Fiona, and she grabbed the weapon, directing it at the driver. The driver sank to the earth, holding his hands above him. “What do you want? Please, show us mercy! We’ll give you anything!” “I—” An insane idea sprang into Fiona’s mind, and she took another glimpse at the passenger. The fabric of his clothes was impeccable, and his hair color was perfect. Chestnut colored like spun gold. Nothing like the red hair that crowned her figure like a flame. This man’s skin resembled buttermilk, with no

    freckle in sight, and his eyes were a deep blue color, as if she were staring into the heavens of an Italian painting. He was an Adonis suited for the finest debutante, for a woman with a Grecian name and skin as flawless as his. No doubt such a woman would be able to sing like an angel, in between giving birth to tiny cherubic likenesses of himself, and then would paint the offsprings’ likenesses in beautiful, delicate watercolor renderings. Such a woman would never, ever have told her family that she had a fiancé when she had none. Such

    a woman wouldn’t have needed to do so. He was just the man she required. “Who are you?” the driver gasped. This was the time to explain herself. This was the time to explain who she was and apologize for frightening them, even though the notion that she should scare large men like that was absurd. But if she could only get the handsome man to introduce himself to Grandmother—she wouldn’t need to take him to the ball—it would be enough for Grandmother to be assured that she need not worry anymore. Perhaps the handsome man

    and the driver could help her move the tree. Cloudbridge Castle was a quick jaunt away, and they were going in that direction anyway. If they thought her a highwaywoman anyway, they would listen to her demands. Maybe no one would want to play a fiancé for a bluestocking, but they would listen to a highwaywoman. Once they were at the castle, well then they would be so grateful she intended them no harm that they would help her. Neither the driver nor the gentleman appeared to be from Yorkshire. She could get away with this. Something like

    hope fluttered in her chest. Perhaps, just perhaps, this would be worthwhile. Fiona thought of mosaic fragments and ancient civilizations and her dear grandmother. She held the gun steady and flung her curls. She channeled every single story from Loretta Van Lochen and raised her voice. “They call me the Scarlet Demon.” Both men’s eyes widened, and she attempted her very best snarl.

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    Fiona Amberly is more intrigued by Roman ruins, than she is by balls. But her dying Grandmother worries about her future, and Fiona stammers that she's secretly engaged, promising to introduce her husband-to-be by Christmas. When Fiona tries to warn a passing coach about a tree in the road, the driver mistakes her for a highwaywoman. Evidently he's not used to seeing women attired in clothes only suitable for archaeology, waving knifes. After the driver flees, Fiona decides she may as well borrow the handsome passenger...

    Bianca Blythe How To Capture A Duke