Release Tour for The Favored Wife by Amy Pennza

Title: The Favored Wife

Author: Amy Pennza

Genre: Contemporary Romance/Women's Fiction

Release Date: July 22, 2019 Cover Design: Arijana Karcic, Cover It! Designs

Is it possible to escape polygamy? Find true love? Well-behaved women don't ask these questions. Not in my world.

My name is Elizabeth Hyde. Actually, no. It’s Grant. In the real world, I’m Elizabeth Grant.

My husband’s name is Hyde, and he has three other wives. No one can know that. Obviously.

In the strict religious community I was born into, women have clearly defined roles. They’re homemakers and caregivers. They rear children. But I don’t have any children, which means I have something of a ticket to the outside. Big families need money, and it’s time for me to get a job.

And I’m loving this job. Being a medical assistant might not sound impressive to most people, but it’s a lot more exciting than making dinner for a family of twenty.

I have to admit, the job isn’t the only thing that excites me.

Lately, I’ve been getting close to Evan Adgate, the doctor who runs the medical center. He’s my opposite in every way: funny, smart, wealthy, educated. It’s no wonder the man turns heads. Heaven help me, he turns mine.

But Evan and I can never be together. We can never be anything. No matter how many talks or dinners we have, my secrets will always be a barrier between us. It’s better if we keep things professional.

Now I just have to keep telling myself that.

"Holy smokes. I devoured this book in no time. I have never read a book anything like this before. I was captivated from the beginning." - Amber, Goodreads reviewer

"This book will blow you away! It is an emotional rollercoaster that will have you wondering how conditions like that could take place without someone putting an end to it!" - Merry, Goodreads reviewer

"I was looking for something a bit different from my normal romance reads. What a surprising gift this was.” - Within Paper Sheets

"Wow oh wow. This book will blow you away, this book will keep you reading until the end, there will be no break.." - I Don't Get Sundays, Amazon reviewer

Leah caught up to me as I pulled open the door of the truck.

“Elizabeth, wait!”

I threw my purse inside and turned. “What is it?”

Her caramel-colored eyes were pained when she said, “Don’t pay any attention to Dinah, okay?”

I looked back at the house, imagining Dinah glowering at me from her kitchen window. She was probably mad about the breakfast dishes. Normally, that was one of my jobs.

Leah was waiting for a response, so I forced a shrug. “I’m used to it.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Don’t let those two get to you.” She lowered her voice. “I think she’s going through the change. It’s probably why she keeps bringing the baby thing up.”

I almost laughed out loud. The way Leah said the change made it sound like Dinah had developed bubonic plague. On impulse, I hugged her. “It’s okay, Leah. I promise it doesn’t bother me. Maybe it used to, but not anymore.”

She pulled back, doubt in her face. “Are you sure?”

“Totally sure.” I released her, then climbed in the truck—something that was way easier in pants. Through the windshield, I saw Jackson walking over from Patty’s house. “That’s my ride,” I told Leah.

“Okay. Well, good luck today.” She closed the door, then put her chin against the bottom of the open window. “Just remember, anything is possible with Heavenly Father on your side. Sarah was ninety when she conceived Isaac.”

I gave her a solemn nod. It was a nice Bible story, but something told me Thomas wasn’t willing to wait that long.

But Leah’s expression was so sincere, I forced a smile and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She returned the smile, then backed away from the truck and started for her house, waving to Jackson as she went.

He climbed in the cab and slammed the door. “You ready?”

“Yes. What have you been doing?” I leaned away from him. He had huge sweat stains under his armpits, and his face was streaked with dirt.

He swiped an arm across his forehead, then stared down at his plaid shirt sleeve. “Dad had me pouring concrete at four this morning.” He drew himself up and said in a low, measured voice, “Nothing builds character like manning a pump hose, son.”

“I hate to break it to you, but that’s just his way of getting cheap labor.”

Jackson slanted me a skeptical look as he started the truck. “You mean free labor.”

I just shook my head. That definitely sounded like Thomas. He owned one of the most successful construction companies in Jefferson City, and the secret to his success was that he employed mostly family members. Dinah ran the office from home and handled everything from payroll to zoning permits. Leah helped with accounts receivable and general bookkeeping tasks. At some point, all the boys in the family had worked various jobs—for little or no pay.

“So how’d you talk him into letting you take this job, anyway?” Jackson asked as we drove down the long gravel driveway away from the houses.

“It was Dinah’s idea. She said times are tight, so it made sense for me to work.” What she really said was that it made sense for me to work since I didn’t have any children to care for, and that I should at least cover my room and board so I wasn’t a burden on the family.

Jackson didn’t need to know that, though. It was too embarrassing.

He turned the truck onto the main road leading out of town. We passed a few groups of boys walking along the sidewalk, probably on their way to work detail.

Jackson drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “It doesn’t add up,” he said suddenly.

I looked at him. “What doesn’t?”

“What Dinah said about times being tight. I’ve seen what Dad makes, and there is no way he’s hurting for money.”

“Well, he has to tithe. A lot of it goes to the faith.”

He shrugged. “I guess. Not that they’re doing anything productive with it,” he said, nodding to the old school building. At one time, the town had operated a small public school, but the state shut it down after some sort of audit claimed too many kids were being passed through grades despite missing months of school at a time. Families had gone back to homeschooling, and the building had fallen into disrepair.

We passed the town center with its small grocery store and town hall. Jackson slowed the truck to a crawl, glanced left and right, then rolled through a stop sign without stopping.

“Hey!” I exclaimed.

He glanced at me. “Do you want to be late on your first day? Besides, that’s Theron and Bragg.” He jutted his chin toward a white extended-cab truck idling near the intersection.

I squinted at the truck’s dark windows but could only make out two shadowy figures in the front seat. “Since when are they working security?”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Since they went crying to their mom about being given shitty jobs. Now they’re living the dream.”

I wanted to scold him for swearing, but I heard the pain and confusion under his bravado. It was an open secret in the family that Thomas favored Dinah’s children over all the others—a situation that had only grown worse since her oldest son, Thomas’s namesake, had been excommunicated and forced out of the community. The night he left was the only time I ever heard Dinah raise her voice to Thomas. She’d begged and pleaded with him to intercede on their son’s behalf, but he stalked from the house and slammed the door, leaving her sobbing on the kitchen floor.

Thinking to comfort her, I’d crept downstairs and placed my hand on her shoulder, only to jump back when she jerked away.

“I don’t need pity from you,” she spat.

“It’s not pity, Dinah. I just—”

“What? Come to gloat?” She glared at me with such malice, I stumbled back a step.

Then she stood and smoothed her skirt. She squared her shoulders, the broken, weeping woman of seconds before replaced by the cool, dominant head wife. “Go back upstairs,” she said. When I turned to go, she added, “And remember, he might want you in his bed, but I’ve borne his children.”

The white truck grew smaller in my side mirror as we drove out of town.

Jackson gripped the steering wheel with tight fingers. I didn’t blame him for being jealous. His half-brothers were driving around in air-conditioned comfort, enjoying power and prestige, while he toiled at construction sites and ferried his father’s wives around.

“Thanks, by the way,” I said.

He looked at me. “For what?”

“For driving me into the city.” I dug in my purse and pulled out my driver’s license. “Even though I’m official now.”

“No kidding?” He leaned over so he could see the picture. “You need that for work or something?” When I nodded, he said, “You gonna start driving yourself into the city now?”

I sighed and tossed the license back into my purse. “I doubt it. Thomas said it’s a waste of resources to leave a car in the city all day.”

“Yeah, I guess. So what will you be doing, taking care of cats or something?” He cast a pointed look at my scrub top.

“Very funny.” I reached over and gave him a playful punch on the arm. “It’s an urgent care center. Like a mini emergency room and doctor’s office all in one. They do drug screenings for employers, too, so I might help with administering those sorts of tests.”

“Sounds cool, Liz.”

I smiled. He was the only one who ever called me that. He’d been just ten when I married Thomas. Back then, my main job had been helping Patty, who homeschooled all the children. She’d been pregnant with her youngest at the time, so I took over her teaching role in that first year. Jackson had Patty’s dark eyes and hair, but he was nothing like her in temperament. He was a jokester and something of a troublemaker, but he was so kind and lovable it was hard to get mad at him.

We drove in companionable silence for a few minutes, then he asked, “Want some music?”

“Sure.”

He turned the radio on, filling the cab with Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble.”

He nodded his head to the beat for a second, then glanced at me. “I can change it if you want.”

“It’s okay.”

He shrugged. “Well . . . if you like it.”

I hid a smile. “I don’t mind it.”

“Then I don’t, either.” He gave me a knowing look, a little grin tugging at his mouth.

I lost the battle with my smile and let out a laugh.

After a second, he joined in.

Amy Pennza has been a lawyer, a soldier, and a copywriter. She's worn combat boots and high heels in the same 24-hour period--and she definitely prefers flip flops. Actually, she prefers going barefoot while writing steamy romances about strong women and alpha men with hearts of gold. After years in Tornado Alley, she now makes her home in the Great Lakes region with her husband, kids, and more baskets than any one person should own. (You can never have enough.)

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What a Wolf Desires by Amy Pennza Blitz & Giveaway

What a Wolf Desires 

Amy Pennza 

(Lux Catena Series, #1)

Publication date: November 21st 2018

Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Lizette Butler has the only thing she ever wanted—freedom from her pack Alpha, Maxime Simard, and the ability to decide her own fate. She and Max have a turbulent history and a powerful—if unwilling—attraction. Unfortunately, mere distance can’t stop the past from crashing back in to disrupt her life. Nor can it stop the rush of desire that overwhelms her the minute she sees him again. Her body may crave his physical seductions, but her heart will never let her love him.

As leader of the New York territory, Max has everything—wealth, power, and an army of wolves ready to jump at his command. But a mistake he made five years ago may have cost him the only thing worth living for: Lizette. He also knows something Lizette doesn’t—she possesses a rare ability that makes her a target and a prize.

Max can command Lizette to return to the pack, but he can’t command her trust…or her love. And if he can’t heal the rift between them, he may lose her forever.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

The inside of the Lodge was brighter than Lizette remembered, the foyer spiraling up a dizzying sixty feet. Twin staircases graced either side, each one leading to a catwalk that appeared to float across the impressive space.

The foyer opened onto a massive great room dominated by a huge stone fireplace. She’d spent many an evening lying in front of it, chin propped on her hand, studying the flames.

She longed to sink into one of the big leather couches in front of the fireplace, but she had her instructions. Her orders. She was to report directly to the Alpha as soon as she set foot in the building. Disobeying wouldn’t be a good way to start her visit.

And a visit is exactly what it’s going to be. As she walked the familiar path to Max’s study, his presence was like a beating heart in the huge Lodge. Each pulse dragged her closer to him, even though every nerve screamed for her to run back out the door and never stop.

“Lizette?” a young, feminine voice called behind her.

She stopped and pivoted toward it. “Haley?”

A dark blur shot from the other end of the hallway. Before she could say anything else, Haley threw itself into Lizette’s arms, wrapping her in a tight, perfumed hug with surprising strength.

She patted her friend’s springy, light brown curls. “Have you been working out?”

Haley laughed and pulled back so they were face-to-face. “It’s the wolf,” she said, her white, even teeth bisected by the thin metal wire of her retainer. “I can’t believe how much it’s changed me in such a short time.”

Six weeks earlier, Haley had convinced her guardians to let her spend a weekend with Lizette. Haley turned seventeen that past Christmas with no sign of her wolf emerging. The Turn happened at different ages for everyone, but it usually happened by puberty—and because girls tended to mature faster than boys, females usually Turned earlier. But Haley hadn’t made the change, and her guardians worried she never would. Among werewolves, such wolves were called latents.

Latents had a wolf counterpart, but they couldn’t Turn. They felt the pull of the wolf’s instincts but had no outlet for them. Lizette had heard it described as being a pianist with your hands permanently tied behind your back.

It was a sad, frustrating existence for wolves, cursed to live trapped inside their human bodies, unable to transform into their other selves. The hope of finding a mate was slim, since they lacked the ability to form the lifelong bonds so treasured by the wolves, and many couldn’t bear to be around normal werewolves.

The problem had even spilled over from werewolf society and trickled down into the human world. Every now and then news headlines told of a madman or killer who’d committed some unspeakable crime. In some cases, it was just a random crazy human. But in others it was a latent who’d lost his or her grip on reality, and the local Alpha would dispatch a group of wolves to quietly take care of the problem.

In the morning the human police would find the defendant hanged in his cell. Was it murder? Yes, but it was too risky to allow those wolves to live.

The human word lunatic was a lot closer to the truth than most people realized.

At first Haley’s guardians thought she might simply be a late bloomer. But when puberty came and went and she still hadn’t Turned, they were desperate. So they sent her to Lizette, hoping some time with another female around her own age might relieve some of the Haley’s anxieties. What if she never Turned? Latents often lived a sort of half-life. Cut off from the werewolf community, many committed suicide.

To everyone’s delight, Haley Turned for the first time during her stay at Lizette’s place. She and Lizette had danced around the apartment blasting One Direction and Taylor Swift until Lizette got a migraine and the downstairs neighbor pounded on the ceiling to shut them up.

Lizette squeezed Haley’s bicep. “I’m impressed. You have Madonna arms.”

Haley laughed, her pretty face lit up with joy. It made Lizette’s heart happy to see her like this. In a way she felt protective of her, and not just because Lizette was there the first time Haley Turned. Like Lizette, Haley lost her parents as a child. Although Haley was raised in a werewolf community, they’d both been foster kids of a sort. Haley knew what it felt like to be an outsider.

Haley’s expression grew abruptly serious. “Have you seen him yet?”

Lizette swallowed. Of course Haley knew why Lizette was here. There was only one thing—or rather one person—who could have compelled her to return. “Not yet. Soon.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other. Even at seventeen, Haley understood that being summoned to appear before the Alpha was serious business. Everyone did. In Lizette’s case, however, it held a special significance.

“I should go.”

“You should go.”

They both laughed.

Lizette took a reluctant step toward the foyer. “I’m sure I’ll see you later. We have a ton of things to catch up on.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Like boys.” Although goodness knew Lizette had little advice to offer in that area. Aside from one brief—and that was generous—relationship as a teen, her love life was DOA.

“Definitely,” Haley said. “And I want to run together before you go.”

Lizette gave Haley a little wave and tried to ignore the way her stomach lurched as she headed back the way she’d come. She stopped in front of a set of big double doors and wiped her palms on her jeans. She angled her chin down and took in her sweater and mint green Chucks. Was Aiden right? Maybe she should have changed.

This is ridiculous. She was twenty-four years old, not fifteen…so why did she feel like a teenager reporting to the principal’s office?

Or a woman on a first date.

Not going there. She’d see what he wanted and then go home. Simple as that. She took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come,” said a low voice from behind the door.

The sound ripped through her like a thunderclap, and her knees almost gave out. She clenched her fists and pressed her fingernails into her palms—a trick she learned from Dom. The pain steadied her. She pushed the door open…

…and locked gazes with the Alpha. Her Alpha. Maxime Alexandre Simard.

He sat behind his desk, his posture relaxed. A lord in command of his domain.

And in the werewolf world, that’s exactly what he was.

The first time she saw him was in the back of a Los Angeles County courtroom. Her caseworker had called her foster parents the day before, breathless, saying a relative had come forward—a distant cousin of Lizette’s mother. He was flying in from New York and would be there the next day to file the paperwork.

In court he wore a charcoal gray suit and a dark blue tie. His jacket sleeves rode up when he shook her foster father’s hand, exposing his shirt cuffs and the strange metal jewelry he wore there instead of buttons. When she slid past him to climb into the limo, she accidentally brushed his sleeve, and the fabric felt like a cloud against her skin. He’d smelled of pine and soap and something…darker…a rich spice she couldn’t identify.

Lizette knew right away that he wasn’t human. There was something other about him. At fifteen, she’d been old enough to see through a disguise, even a convincing one. As soon as the door closed, she’d blurted, “Are you human?”

“Not entirely.”

Her heart had pounded so hard her chest had hurt. “Will you hurt me?”

“Never. I promise you.”

“Are you…” She thought back to the stash of vampire novels she kept hidden under her bed at her foster parents’ house. “Are you immortal?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Disappointment washed over her…followed by renewed curiosity. “How old are you, then?”

“Twenty-seven.” She must have looked surprised, because he smiled. “You expected me to be older?”

“If you’re not human, then what are you?” He spoke perfect English, but he had an accent…something refined and Old World. It curled around her brain like a lazy cat. She caught herself leaning toward him, hoping he’d speak again.

“Ah.” He looked thoughtful for a minute. “What do you think I am, petite?”

“I…don’t know.”

He tapped on the glass dividing the back seat from the front, and the car rumbled to life and slid into traffic. When he turned back to her, his light blue eyes were different. Sharper. “What if I told you that you and I are the same…”

Sitting behind his desk now, Max looked exactly as he had in the courtroom nine years ago. Knowing what she did today, Lizette knew he’d look more or less the same for the rest of his long life.

His face was aristocratic and refined—his patrician nose set between straight black eyebrows. He wore his thick black hair brushed back from a broad, unlined forehead, and his jaw was shadowed by what looked like several days’ growth of beard. But his light blue eyes were his most arresting feature. Pale as a spring sky, they focused on her as if she was the only creature on earth.

He was the only wolf she knew whose eyes changed very little between forms. To notice any difference, a person had to be standing toe-to-toe with him.

Or kissing him.

Her breath hitched. She realized she was staring and dropped her gaze to the thick patterned carpet. Shit. First she challenged Dom. Now she just challenged Max. With Dom, she’d breached protocol because she was angry. This time she hadn’t even realized she was doing it.

“Sit,” Max said, his voice curt. He remained seated as she approached the leather chairs in front of his desk. That didn’t surprise her. Alphas stood for no one—especially this Alpha.

She perched on the edge of one of the chairs, her gaze on the space near his right shoulder. He sat with his elbows on the desk, studying her. He’d rolled back the long sleeves of his starched white button-down, revealing muscled forearms sprinkled with black hairs. The casual style should have made him look less intimidating, but it did the opposite.

She felt his gaze wander across her body, its heat like a spotlight against her skin. All thoughts of controlling her heart rate fled—the meditation she practiced during the drive scattering like a flock of birds.

As if drawn by a magnet, she locked gazes with him again. The back of her neck tingled as they stared at each other. If he felt anything in the soft skin of his right thumb, he gave no indication.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he let his wolf creep into his eyes. “You think to challenge me?” he asked softly, sounding merely curious.

She lowered her gaze to his collarbone. “No.”

His chair creaked as he leaned back. “You’ve been too long in the human world. You forget our ways.”

“So I’ve heard,” she muttered. The thing was, it was true when Dom said it. This time, though, she hadn’t forgotten. Normally the wolf’s instinct kicked in and compelled her to drop her gaze whenever a more dominant wolf was around. Max was the most dominant wolf in any room, which meant her instinct should have been firing on all cylinders. But it had deserted her just now.

For a brief moment she’d forgotten to avoid staring directly into his eyes. She was surprised she was able to maintain eye contact as long as she had. Apparently the usual rules didn’t apply to them.

“Well,” he continued, “we shall remedy that now that you’re here.”

She cleared her throat. “Since you brought it up, I’d actually like to know why I’m here.”

He rose and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the gorge a hundred feet below. The windows took up the entire wall—a feature that repeated across most of the rear of the Lodge, which had been built to take advantage of the area’s natural beauty. The wall behind his desk displayed a large map of the United States and Canada. Instead of showing the usual boundary lines, however, it was sectioned into sixty territories—each marked with a capital no human would have recognized. They sat in the New York Territory which, predictably, included all of New York. Unlike the human version, Max’s domain extended all the way north to Quebec.

She tore her gaze away from the map. She didn’t need another reminder of his power. It was literally in the room with her, almost like an aura shining around him. She’d never felt it so strongly before. All high-ranking wolves oozed power, but most wielded incredible control over it. If they chose, they could also mute their power so it wasn’t so obnoxious.

Was he displaying his on purpose to intimidate her? But no, displays weren’t really Max’s style. He was far too subtle for that.

“How are your headaches?” he asked without turning around.

She closed her eyes. “Fine.”

“I can smell your lie from here.”

It was impossible to reply without telling the truth—or getting caught in another lie—so she clamped her mouth shut. She had a feeling he was going to say whatever he wanted to say anyway.

“You’ve lost weight.”

She gritted her teeth. “In the human world, that’s generally considered a good thing. Women are always trying to lose weight.”

“You’re not a human.” He rolled his neck on his shoulders, the movement drawing her gaze. She’d forgotten how big he was. Even if he wasn’t an Alpha, he’d still command any room he entered, and not just because of his physical size. The fabric of his shirt stretched tight over powerful shoulders and a broad back that tapered to lean hips. Her stare sank lower…until she realized where it was headed and tore her eyes away.

What was she doing?

She must have made a sound, because he turned away from the window. She had his full attention now.

Crap, crap, crap.

She pressed her damp palms against her jeans as his denim-clad legs appeared before her. He stopped in front of his desk, his body inches from hers. A warm hand lifted her chin and kept lifting her, gently pulling her to her feet.

Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. He tipped her chin up. He’d stuffed his wolf down so deep, he appeared as a normal man—or as normal as Maxime Simard would ever get. In a blink, his demeanor changed. The wolf bled from his eyes, and his gaze dipped to her mouth. They were no longer speaking Alpha-to-subject. This was something entirely different.

She knew this Max. He was more terrifying than the Alpha.

“You want to know why I called you back.” He made it a statement.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

His eyes glittered. “That’s easy. I wanted to speak with my wife.”

Author Bio:

Amy Pennza has been a lawyer, a soldier, and a copywriter. Although she liked the first two well enough, she decided writing romance is the job she loves best. After years in Tornado Alley, she now makes her home in the Great Lakes region with her husband, kids, and two demanding animals. You can visit her at amypennza.com.

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