The bass thrummed through Liliana’s bones as she rolled onto her back, bare skin hot against the cool wood of the stage. Colourful lights bathed her flesh in an ethereal glow, passionate hues of pink, red, deep purple.

She lost herself in the music, lithe body gyrating as she curled her arms back, running her fingers through her honey tresses and spreading her knees.

She loved putting herself on display like this, the powerful feeling of being desired but untouchable. Taking back her own body, hers, running her own hands down her creamy thighs while the hungry eyes of the audience devoured her.

Dancing had always been a secret passion, something she’d kept close to her heart, something she’d faked being bad at in her previous life because she didn’t want it to be taken from her like everything else.

By the time her set was over, she walked backstage with her discarded outfit over her shoulder and a fat stack of bills in her hand. Most of it would go to the house, but it still felt good to hold it before she had to dish it out.

“Hey, Lil, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Liliana’s breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes for a beat. She’d anticipated this coming, but not this soon. Cassie had been nice enough to let her crash on her couch since she’d started working at the club until she could get a place of her own, but a recent new boyfriend had thrown a wrench in those plans. When it had become clear that she wasn’t interested in being their third in the bedroom, Derek hadn’t been subtle about not wanting her in the apartment.

She’d hoped that maybe Cassie wouldn’t keep him around, but the apologetic look in her coworker’s eyes told her that this wasn’t going to be a conversation on how to dump her boyfriend.

“…going to need the extra key back,” Cassie was saying, and Lili pasted an agreeable smile on her face, inclining her head towards the change rooms.

“Yeah, no problem, let me grab it from my locker.” She led the way, earlier swagger a lot more muted, the high from her performance leaching out of her with each step. She didn’t want to make Cassie feel bad. She was kind, far too kind for a douchebag like Derek. Liliana couldn’t help but think she should have made a move herself on the woman—maybe if she had, then Derek would have never been in the picture in the first place.

But the last thing Liliana needed was a relationship. She’d known it when she arrived on the east coast, and she knew it now. Like her coworker, she had terrible taste in men. Though maybe not taking a chance on sweet women like Cassie was just icing on the cake of bad decisions in her life.

She handed over the key and Cassie took it, bringing it to her chest and pursing her lips as if she wanted to say something but held back.

“See you tomorrow?” she finally asked, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the change room.

Liliana offered her the best smile she could muster. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.” She turned back to her locker, not wanting the other woman to see her expression fall. She pulled out the worn messenger bag that had contained her entire life in it for what felt like far too long now.

She changed into her street clothes, a pair of black leggings and a matching long-sleeved baggy t-shirt with a thin hood, pulling it up like a suit of armour. It would be, tonight, depending on where she was going to sleep.

Alec looked up from his paperwork as she knocked on the doorframe of his office, his greasy hair shining under the fluorescent lighting above. “Hook me up, doll,” he said out of the side of his mouth, the other clutching a filterless cigarette half-soaked with the sweat from his upper lip.

Liliana tossed the stack on his desk, crossing her arms to wait for him to count it. As always, he never gave her actual numbers, likely because he changed her percentage every time.

“Don’t give me that face.” He slid a significantly smaller stack towards her. “You know how expensive it is to keep this place under the radar.”

“I don’t, actually.” Liliana shoved her earnings into the bottom of her bag and threw it back over her shoulder. “But I gotta trust you, right?” The words felt sour in her mouth, but keeping her boss happy was in her best interests. Just not too happy, she thought as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Right. We’re providing an important service here. And I gotta take care of you girls, too.”

The word girls sent an unpleasant shiver up her spine. Women, you asshole. “Thanks,” she said instead, and turned towards the back door.

Cassie stood by the dressing room, chatting with a few others, and her big doe eyes met Liliana’s before giving a little wave.

Liliana returned it before she burst out the back entrance into a dark area of the parking lot.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The disdainful words made her skin crawl, and she whipped around, heels clacking on the cracked asphalt.

There was a distinct lack of security at the door, and she cursed herself for not checking the time before she’d exited. They were horrendously short-staffed on security, so the back door was only manned at certain times of night.

One look at Derek’s smug face, though, and Liliana couldn’t help herself. Cassie she’d wanted to be nice to…Derek’s feelings, however, meant less than nothing.

“I’ll be happy not to wake up to your ugly mug anymore.” She tightened the strap of her shoulder bag and affected her best resting bitch face.

His sneer transformed his already pig-like face into something monstrous. “Stuck-up cunt, have fun getting railed in an alleyway.”

“Would be preferable to your microscopic dick.” To accentuate her point, Liliana raised her pinky finger, giving it a weak little wiggle.

He snarled and lashed out to snatch her wrist, and while she was fast enough to dodge that, her traitorous heels tripped her up and she stumbled as she tried to dive away. Strong fingers curled around the back of her neck and panic instantly gripped her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Memories flooded her in a visceral wave, of pincer grips on the back of her neck, fingers pressing into her throat, hot drunk breath in her ear—

She struggled for sanity, struggled for purchase, struggled to remember that she wasn’t fucking helpless anymore, and she thrashed.

She twisted her body and jabbed back with her elbow, other fist curling and hitting something fleshy. Derek let out a huffing oof and his hold loosened just enough for her to slash at him, clawing at whatever flesh she could get her nails into, tearing, desperate, breaking not just this man but fucking all of them.

As soon as she was free she staggered away, leaving him hurling obscenities, glad she’d tightened her bag so she could just run, just go, get the hell away from this asshole—

Away, away, to where? If he ran after her she was fucked in these stupid shoes. She’d need flats if she wasn’t staying at Cassie’s so close anymore, if she was going to be out in the world needing to run.

She made it out of the parking lot and around a building before she realized he wasn’t coming after her. Her ankles were thankfully intact as she’d managed to sprint on her toes, but she slowed anyway. Adrenaline could cover up all kinds of pain, and she needed her ankles to be functional so she could do her job.

At the club where she’d be using the damn front entrance when the back wasn’t manned.

Stupid, stupid. Had she just kept her mouth shut and walked off then…well, it was done now.

Liliana crossed her arms as she walked, heading towards the water to clear her head. There was one place she could go that wouldn’t charge as much as a hotel room, especially not in the middle of the night…but she needed to chill the hell out first. She didn’t want to burst in there all freaked out and sketchy.

She rubbed the back of her neck absently as she tried to soothe the buzzing in her veins from the fight-or-flight.

Eventually, a few raucous hoots and hollers echoed in the distance along with some alt rock ballad warbling from the pub on the water. Liliana made her way around the opposite side of the building, not in the mood to navigate annoying drunk people.

The noise was comforting, though. Proof of life. Some kind of happiness, had by someone.

Liliana walked the landing lookout, finding a spot where she could sit and watch the water alone, the pub noise just within earshot. She pulled off her shoulder bag, hugging it to her chest as she leaned down to unbuckle her heels. She drew her legs up under her on the bench, taking in a deep breath.

So many of the locals complained that the harbours in Nova Scotia smelled like shit, but she’d come from the Greater Toronto Area, where the air felt like it could climb inside your lungs and shred them from the inside out.

To her, the maritimes air smelled fresh no matter where she was, in the highlands, on the beach, anywhere. The cool night air ghosted over the thin fabric of her top, but didn’t elicit a shiver. She had experience in the cold, trapped under Ontario winters feeling like she’d never be warm again. It was spring now on the ocean, which meant fresh breezes and cheap lobster and what should be a quiet and content life.

Instead her mouth tasted like failure.

But you’re free, and you’re alive.

Free and alive.

A mantra forever churning in her brain to remind her why she was here, why she tried so damn hard. After tonight she’d have to try even harder.

Prrrrowwww?

Liliana startled at the sound, snapping her gaze beside her where a dainty black cat parked its bum next to her on the bench.

“Jesus, you scared me,” she muttered, but reached out to lightly scratch the cat’s scruff. “You’re a little ways from home, huh?”

Funny that she’d come across this particular cat that spent its days sunning itself outside of the hostel on the other side of the highway. She frequented that place when she needed a bite to eat and couldn’t stand another off-brand mac and cheese or canned soup. The guys that ran it didn’t fuck around when it came to the hearty food they prepared there, and they charged very low, if at all.

Liliana gave the cat big long pets all down its back and tail. “Some asshole got me kicked out by my friend,” she cooed. “But your boys like me, right? They wouldn’t turn me away.”

The cat responded with more purring, bonking her hand with its head. She sighed, and the cat climbed up onto her lap, not curling up and getting comfortable but standing there, paws poking down into her thighs.

Prrrrt!

“I guess I could at least bring their kitty home, huh?” She used both her hands to scratch behind the cat’s ears, the only creature that appreciated her sharp nails.

As if in response, the cat climbed up her chest, perching on her shoulder and nuzzling her cheek.

Liliana couldn’t help but smile, and decided herself chill enough to head out.

Animals were way better than people.

BUY NOW

Anyone who’s been around long enough to read my books knows I am a Jill-of-all-genres. I can’t sit still, with my reading or my writing. Does that make branding impossible? Yes, yes it does.

But as much as it would be cool as fuck to live off of my writing, I’ve never been in it for the branding. The amazing Pixie Stormcrow once helped me out with this, pointing out that across all of the genres I write, my commonality is hot mess characters.

Beautifully Flawed became my tag line (after much workshopping, thank you Pixie you are a patient and wonderful STAR), and it occurred to me that exploring characters with a lot of fucking problems was what drew me to a story that needed to be told.

Sure, I’m inspired by many things, and enjoy crafting a world and mapping out loose plot points and throwing wrenches in character’s plans. But the real inception for every story, every book of mine is how fucked-up a character is and what journey they can take. Whether it be to recovery or rock-bottom.

In romance, it’s recovery, as per the genre convention, but shit can’t be easy. Yes, romance has a happily ever after, but the challenge is to make a story compelling even when the reader knows things are going to be okay. It is a delicious, fun challenge, to make them forget that things will turn out, make them scared that it’s all going to go to shit.

As much as I enjoyed the tender moments in Wildflower, the so-sweet-it-hurts-your-teeth moments, and yes, the steamy moments, I found the most immersion in the difficult moments. The times where it feels like everything is fucking awful and nothing is going to ever be okay again.

Liliana has made too many bad decisions and continues to make them, deep down she wants to be a good person, a better person, but doesn’t know how. The first step is addressing her mistakes, but that takes a hell of a long time, and emotions make things messy.

Izzy and Ambrose have been down that road, and are doing their best with what they have, caring for each other and for others through the struggle of cost-of-living and homelessness in Nova Scotia. They haven’t always made the right choices either, but they know where their priorities lie and their mission is to keep people safe, fed, healthy. It’s not an easy road for them, either.

All this in a setting that I wanted to be bleak and hopeful at the same time. Because that’s what life feels like, in the real world. The real world is fucking terrifying, much of the time. All we can do is find hope, do our best to be kind and find happiness in the little things.

That’s what I wanted for Wildflower. I wrote it during a time when I felt hopeless. It was a balm to my anxious gut, in a lot of ways. Maybe it can be that for others, too.

Bad habits are hard to break.

And Liliana's worst habit by far is surrounding herself with toxic men. Now she’s alone and on the run, with a chip on her shoulder and nobody to trust.

She finds escape and solace working at an underground club where her identity is as fluid as her performance around the pole. That is, until her roommate kicks her out and she's left with no other choice than to move into the local hostel.

Where she meets her next bad habit. Or two.

Iseul and Ambrose, the owners of the hostel and long-time best friends. They’re kind, selfless, and too good to be true.

Liliana is determined to keep both men at arm’s length, unwilling to let herself be indebted to anyone. Iseul and Ambrose are relentlessly patient, their own understanding of trauma giving them an edge in navigating those who need help. All they want is her trust, and to keep her safe.

They’re going to need that trust when her past finally catches up with her…

And demands retribution.

(Blurb doctor: Alexandria Lee)

If you’d prefer a sample of my angsty-ass hot-mess romance without commitment, my other Canadian AF contemporary romance is FREE from June 27th to 29th.

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All bad decisions are born out of one key moment.

A moment, thoughtless or not, where you choose wrong over right. Evil over good. You roll the dice and brace for the consequences, and that's exactly what Jolie and Carson did the day they met by mistake.

One wrong number, one simple conversation over text, and their lives as they knew it were gone.

Jolie, a miserable housewife who clings to the bottle just to get by, and Carson, a doctor who's stitched together the perfect facade to hide his failed marriage from his children and colleagues.

Loneliness consumes them both, and when they find an unlikely friend at the end of a stranger's phone number, they cling to whatever connection they can get. Neither intended to cross any lines, but then again, good people rarely intend to do bad things.

For Jolie and Carson, their key moment was fast and not at all easy.

And the consequences might be even worse.