A Foster Fling – A Romance Anthology

by Justine Bergman

Today I’m thrilled to be taking part in the A Foster Fling blitz presented by Xpresso Tours. Seven families.⁣ Seven forbidden trysts.⁣ Seven decadent romances. A Foster Fling is a limited-edition romance anthology collection from USA Today and Bestselling Authors and it’s coming on September 10th! Keep scrolling to learn more about the book, read an excerpt from each of the stories within, and enter to win a $15 Amazon gift card courtesy of the lovely authors who’s penned those tales.

A Foster Fling
PUBLISHED: September 10, 2022
GENRE: Romance



The Blurb

Seven families.

Seven forbidden trysts.

Seven decadent romances.

Get lost in the streets of Urban Decay where moral lines are crossed.

Where The Tower looms in the distance, and the Destructive Harbor is just beyond the shore.

Hidden in the Depravity of the Dark, Bury Me Alive as we crawl Under the Skin of right and wrong. And remember, If I Can’t Have You, then no one will.

In this system, the family rules are blurred, and lines are crossed.

A Foster Fling is a limited-edition romance anthology collection from USA Today and Bestselling Authors.

The Excerpts

Destructive Harbor
by Ally Vance

When I picked up my latest foster daughter from the social services office, I found a young, woman who was little more than a shell veiled with defiance. It called to my protective urges, and I knew I had to take her. The report I was given when they told me they had another foster child for me detailed a troubled past, the reason she was thrown into the system, along with the history of previous foster parents she’d had.

It’s a game of chance when someone enters the system, whether they’ll end up in a loving, nurturing home, or with someone who does it for the paycheck. I won’t deny that the money isn’t a nice bonus, but it’s more than that.

Ten years ago my wife passed away suddenly from a heart attack, taking with her our unborn child and leaving me with my young son and a half-empty heart. I had a lot of love and care to give, so I applied to become a carer for the unwanted and lost children who needed a safe harbor to reside in.

What I didn’t expect was how deeply I would come to care for her, or how wrongly I would feel. There are boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed, and all I want is to hurtle straight over them to the other side.

I’m supposed to be the one offering her safety, comfort, and the love of a surrogate parent, but all I want to do is take her in ways I shouldn’t even consider, that I shouldn’t be dreaming about. 

The quiet, reserved girl is calling out to the darker side of me, creating a storm in the harbor I’ve spent years creating, threatening to destroy it. The darkness of her eyes, contrasting with her honey-colored hair and fair skin made her far more appealing than I had any right to find her. 

All my life I’ve given everything in me to those I’ve taken care of, have loved. But when Robyn Wymer walked through the door to my home, with her shaking hand clutching mine, I had no idea what kind of storm was about to be unleashed, and what the lasting effects of that would be.

Under The Skin
by Lucid Quill

The only thing louder than the screams in my head is the squelching of my hungry belly. I lost track of the days. I hate to lose time because I never know how long I stayed strong. I never know if I beat them. Their expectations.

“Have you learned yet lamb?” His voice creeps up my back like a serpent chilling my already cool blood.

“Fuck you.” I grate through my clenched jaw.

It’s freezing in here. Not cold enough to kill me but enough to keep me very uncomfortable. That on top of the fact I’ve gone almost a week without eating has left me virtually incapable of controlling my limbs. I’m a pathetic sight but I refuse to cower.

“Sayler I don’t understand why you feel the need to be so defiant. We are only trying to help you. Don’t you want to get better?”

Of course he’s brought along miss Mason. Her voice is like tin in a blender. She’s perhaps the worst of them all because she’s so misguided she actually thinks this is a good place. She believes what we go through is therapy and not torture.

Despite everything telling me she deserves to sink with all the other monsters here I find myself hoping she gets out before all this depravity taints her. She treats us with kindness and that makes it worse. A fucked up part of us is convinced we deserve everything because it’s sometimes delivered by such soft hands.

“Better?” I rasp out. “I just want to be gone.” To die would be so easy. But my pride won’t allow it.

“Oh don’t say that. What about Cae? What would he do without you? You’re important to his recovery too.” Damn her. She always uses him to get to me.

“Of course he will always be taken care of. But we would much rather have you there to assist.” I can hear the humor in his dark tone.

This is his favorite part to play. The concerned ‘doctor’. The well intentioned human trying to soothe a troubled soul. All the while venom and toxic sludge writhes beneath his skin.

“Can you stand up or must I have Wendell come help you?” He hisses at me.

I immediately try to push to my feet because I don’t want that miscreants hands on me again. He’s already the reason I’m in such bad shape. The skin on my neck stretches as I move and the searing pain makes me groan.

Wendell’s favorite act of degradation is to bend you over into uncomfortable positions and try to pop your head off by squeezing the back of your neck. While holding his keys. If you don’t bleed he doesn’t let you up. If he doesn’t get off on your back. He doesn’t let you go. Sometimes when he’s really frisky he doesn’t let up until you’re crying.

There’s something so humiliating about being dry humped by a man who smells like lilies while your neck feels like it’s snapping. It’s almost worse than the actual torture. I think he gets off on knowing that Wendell does his sick shit to us.

The doctor is a prideful creature. He demands control at all times. I am not one to be controlled. Dr. Lukas Stopheles has been made my enemy by that fact. I refuse to call him by his name. It’s a dead ringer for the devil himself so I keep it real.

“Tilda, you can’t let him touch me.” I plead with her as I try to get up.

“It’s okay, we won’t let him. Will you let me help you up?” She moves forward to help me but Lukas stops her.

“No. She gets up on her own or she stays here. She’ll not be pampered any longer.”

“Doctor, she hasn’t eaten in days she just needs a little help.”

“Have you forgotten why she’s here Nurse Mason? Did you forget what she did?” At his reminder Tilda steps back from me and looks away.

“And you, Sayler? Do you understand why you’re here?” He sneers at me.

“Because you’re a sick fuck?” Every time I was about to cave he pushed me to fight more.

“Oh lamb. I hate to make you suffer.” He smiled as if nothing brought him more joy.

If I Can’t Have You
by Jordain Knolls

I don’t remember much about the kid but I remember the way he looked at me once we were alone. The air shifted, like the oxygen suddenly disappeared. My breath was caught in my throat. I felt like I was on fire, and I knew it wasn’t the liquor anymore making me feel this way

I swallowed hard, trying my fucking hardest to stay calm. He stood from the bed, his gaze never leaving mine as he stalked toward me.

For fourteen, he was intimidating.

He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of my head. His gaze floated across every part of my face. Time was fucking frozen, but I was spiraling.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Kissing you.” Before I could interject, his lips crashed down on mine.

I was done for. Melting into the bean bag chair as a wave of emotions crashed through me like an angry sea. So many thoughts were going through my head.

I’ve never kissed a boy before.

Why did I like it so much?

Where is Gabe?

Why is he kissing me?

But the main one stirring in my head was what is he going to do next?

I never got that answer.

I never would.

Because while he was kissing me, Gabe was in our dads office, loading a shot gun, putting it to his head, and pulling the trigger.

The rest of that night and so many months after were one giant blur and My life crashed and burned. I never saw that Forster kid again.

And every night since, I’ve spent my time dousing my pain with the Lords amber embrace.

Urban Decay
by Yolanda Olson

Perfect, pretty Emily Parker.

Pathetic, patronizing Julius and Josephine Parker.

They were the family that took me in when I was a young girl. They wanted to be the picture perfect family with two beautiful daughters to show off to their prestigious friends at their prestigious gatherings.

Most of what I can remember from childhood wasn’t so bad until Julius decided that I wasn’t good enough to be his daughter, but better suited to be in his bed instead.

Secret, painful trysts that happened whenever Josephine would leave for weekends away with her high society friends.

I never got over what he would do to me under the watchful eye of the moon, but that wasn’t what got me tossed out onto my ass.

Emily Parker caught us one night when I screamed a little too loud, and daddy dearest wasn’t quick enough to cover my mouth.

She followed the painful bellow to her father’s door, slowly pushed it open, and found him on top of me, his dick buried in my ass, fucking me like a drunken frat boy.

Little Emily Parker let out a scream, threw herself at us, and began to tear at my hair and punch me as violently as she could while her father pulled his dick out of me and tried to get her out of the room.

I thought she had come in to save me, but instead, she beat me while I was already down.

Julius bought Emily’s silence by getting her an exquisite diamond necklace and matching earrings.

It worked for a while, but the more he took advantage of me in he and his wife’s bed, the angrier she became.

I thought she was mad at him, but as it turned out, she was jealous.

She didn’t understand what it was about me that made him so ravenous and she hated me for it.

So, when Josephine Parker came home one weekend from a trip to Monaco with her friends, Emily Parker told her what had been happening.

Except, she told her that I would force her father to do things to me.

And Pathetic, Patronizing Josephine believed her.

Instead of sending me back to the home they adopted me from, she had friends come take me away and dump me in the middle of Skid Row.

And this is where I’ve watched them become even more prominent in their society of bullshit politicians, lawmakers, and kiddie diddlers. This is where I’ve waited, biding my time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike them down.

But the longer I lived on the street, and the longer I let the hatred fester, I knew that the best way to get to the Parker family would be through their darling daughter, Pretty, Perfect Emily.

Depravity In The Dark
by Selena Michaels

“What about Salma?” My papá’s voice rose from behind his office door.

I was eavesdropping. I knew it was wrong, but I pressed my ear closer. If I didn’t hang out around my father’s office with my ear pressed against the door like a nosey servant, I wouldn’t know anything about what was happening around here.

I mean, I was a curious mafia princess. My family ran everything. From money to people. Papá was king, we were street royalty, and those not in the organization’s aristocracy were mere peasants waiting on us hand and foot. The city of brotherly love never saw him coming. No matter that the peasants were the reason he had a kingdom. No matter that he relied on them by funneling tax money into his business.

I listened closer, trying to glean more about my upcoming nuptials. I wasn’t shocked that my father was looking to arrange my marriage already. I was seventeen, turning eighteen in a couple days. It was to be expected. It came with the position of being the daughter of a street don.

They were discussing a corrupt politician now. I smirked inwardly. What a fucking cliché. The worst part? My father was the nicest chapó in the history of mafia leaders. He had this sort of Santa Claus jolliness to him. But if fucked over, ooh he was the devil. He never let any slights slip. Princess or not, I personally chose to stay on his good side.

“Salma will make me a good wife. That’s all there is to it,” a gratty Spanish accent responded to my papá.

“I won’t have it,” a familiar husky tenor spat.

My brows crinkled. That wasn’t–

“What objections do you have to their union, Raúl?” my papa asked.

My older brother was back from his mission? Before I could stop the impulse, I opened my father’s office door and ran inside.

“Raúl!” I cried and ran into his arms.

“Princesa,” Raul’s voice grew deeper as he swung me around in his arms. He then put me down, frowned and adjusted my dress. His glare spoke volumes, unhappy to see me wearing the little sundress he’d deemed too short and inappropriate just last month when I’d bought it.

“Salma! How dare you interrupt this meeting.” My father snapped.

The anger in his tone made me take notice of just how many people were present. At least twelve, if I counted the guards. I had fucked up. This wasn’t like his usual gathering. I had embarrassed him.

“Lo siento, Papá. I heard Raúl was back and I just couldn’t help myself.” I saw the moment where my papá had decided he wasn’t going to accept my apology. His face scrunched up and he looked less jolly and more stabby. Fuck.

“This is why I said she should be married now instead of waiting, Bruno. Look at the girl. Can’t even control herself around your men.” Antonió Saldívar tapped his cigar over the ashtray and we all watched as it hit the floor.

A blatant sign of disrespect.

The Tower
by C.A. Rene

If I step foot outside these stone walls, I will be hunted, and my body used for the essence it beholds. So I stay here, thankful to be alive, and thankful for Pearl’s protection. She’s powerful in her own right, and so beautiful that it makes my heart squeeze inside my chest whenever I see her.

The long, blonde hair, near white, and shining with luminescence. Her mismatched eyes, one brown and the other blue, just add to her allure, and her laugh. The huskiness of it does things to me. It’s hard to explain because she’s like a mother to me, but at the same time, I know we don’t share blood.

It’s unnatural for two women to fall in love, at least that’s what the anatomy books teach me. A man and woman are needed to procreate, a woman and another woman cannot. But I can’t help the way I feel.

Especially when she’s brushing my hair and humming a tune, one that strikes a chord deep down inside my stomach. It feels like she’s pulling something out of me, and when she’s done, I’m always so relaxed and drained of energy.

“Zel!” I sit up quickly, dropping the book I’m reading to the ground. “Zelinda, come open the door for your mother!”

The sound of her voice has my heart picking up and my body moving to her command before my mind has registered the words. I get to the enormous iron door and pull back all the locks and deadbolts. She pushes her way inside, and the scent of apples immediately assaults my senses.

“Hello, Mother,” I say quietly as her eyes rove over me from head to toe.

“I brought you apples,” she says, a slow smile climbing along her plush, pink lips.

The apples she grows in her orchard are my favorite, and she says I have been fond of them from the moment I could chew.

Her brows crash together in the center as she looks at the large bun holding up my knee-length honey-colored hair on top of my head.

“Zelinda,” she purrs. “Let down your hair.”

Bury Me Alive
by YD La Mar

When I reach the top of the stairs, I can already hear the restroom door slam and the water running. Fucker is so dense. How many years have I tried time and time again to be civil, and he just locks down harder than Ft. Knox?

I should stop fucking caring. I really should. It’s taking a toll on me and my mental health.

Heading to my room, I throw my backpack on the ground and start stripping from my sweater and pants. A sound has me startled. Turning around quickly, I watch Jaiden’s eyes on me. There’s so much pain there and so much pride that it pisses me off. I tried. I really did, didn’t I? He’s the one that refuses to let me in. I don’t know what to do and I’m beginning to think there’s nothing I can do.

Scowling, I turn around and walk to my dresser to look for a pair of sweatpants. 

I shriek a little when I feel the warmth of his body behind me, making me almost topple over my dresser, the edge of the drawer jabbing me in the gut.

“What the hell, Jaiden?” I screech.

“Did you send them after me?” His pupils are blown out, making his eyes look pitch black.

“What? How can you even think that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He steps closer, his hair still dripping from the shower. There’s no more blood on his face, but his eye is getting puffier.

“Did you? You fucking hate me, right? I see the way you look at me. Did you send them?”

I’m pissed. Shoving at his shoulder, he takes a step back, just enough for me to turn and avoid his damn eyes, rummaging through my drawer for those damn sweatpants. This is getting crazy. I’m standing here in my damn panties and tank, wondering if these stupid sweatpants have walked off on me, when I feel him press behind me again.

His warm breath on my neck gives me goosebumps.

“I wouldn’t put it past you, princess.”

I explode. My fist collides with something and it’s not enough to quell my temper. Jaiden dodged just fast enough for me to punch his fucking neck instead of his face. I grind my teeth together and stare daggers into him.

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Why not? He calls you that all the time.”

I lunge. We’re grappling on the floor, and he uses his weight against me, but I’m quicker because I’m smaller. Our tangle of limbs must make a sight—chocolate, vanilla swirl as we both start to fight for dominance in this battle.

Of course, he gets the upper hand. Why did I think any differently? Jaiden has put on at least one more foot and fifty more pounds this past year, hitting a growth spurt. Where we once stood the same height, he now towers over me.

He twists his limbs around me and flips me onto my back, slamming my head onto the carpeted floor of our bedroom with a loud thud. His naked chest is damp against my tank top and his legs have pushed mine apart, pinning me to the ground.

We’re both panting from the energy exertion and rage but suddenly there’s a new heat in the room. Baring my teeth at him, I try to buck him off but he’s too heavy for me. My body tires and Jaiden doesn’t say a word. I must be seeing things, because when his eyes dart to my mouth for a second, my lips part and my heart begins to beat out of my chest. There’s a moment of silence between us, and finally, Jaiden breaks the awkwardness by shoving my shoulders away from him as he stands up and walks to his side of the room. We both dress in silence, not turning to look at each other, pretending the other does not exist as we take out our schoolwork and scatter it on our beds.

The door downstairs opens, and I jump at the sound.

“We’re home!” Our parents shout out.

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