Our Radiant Embers
By Zarah Detand
Their rivalry? Explosive. Their chemistry? Magical.
When a regrettable drunken hookup becomes your partner in a high-stakes magical project, sparks are bound to fly—just not the kind Liam Morgan was hoping for. Teaming up with Adam Harrington, the golden boy of a legendary magical lineage, was not on his to-do list.
Adam, the epitome of tailored perfection, has accepted the need to lock his true self in the closet. Liam, on the other hand, wears his nonconformity like a badge of honour, challenging the elite’s silken norms with every step he takes.
Tasked with revolutionising urban development in an eco-friendly manner, their forced collaboration is marked by snark, resentment, and a magnetic undercurrent of attraction. But as their reluctant partnership turns into a bond that’s hard to deny, a plot for power simmers, threatening to unleash chaos that could sweep the city into a maelstrom of uncontrolled magic.
This contemporary MM romance is a romp through a magically infused London. It interweaves snappy banter, enemies to lovers, and political intrigue with a slow-burn kind of love that can save a city.
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Excerpt
Well then. Game face on.
I accepted a glass from a passing waitress with a murmured thanks. She shot me a surprised glance from underneath demurely lowered lashes, and right, yeah. Acknowledging the hired help was not industry standard in these circles. But five years ago, I might have been in her place—just enough magic potential to orbit around those who mattered.
I reminded myself that I belonged. No, I couldn’t trace my lineage back to, say, the Middle Ages—hell, I couldn’t even trace it past my grandmother. But I had every bloody right to be here. Even if I was wearing one of only two designer suits I owned while most people in this room had likely chosen from a whole wardrobe of options.
The practice of publicly ranking families on the strength of their magic had largely fallen out of favour, but we still catered to them, didn’t we?
Except I didn’t bow anymore. Not to anyone.
“Well,” a wry voice said from behind me. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
I didn’t bow to anyone, no. And especially not to Adam Harrington.
Slowly, leisurely, I turned and raised my glass in a friendly salute. “Adam. Opting for a tried and true classic on the insult front rather than using your brain?”
His smile didn’t waver. “I’d respond, but I’d rather not engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person.”
God, he was infuriating. He carried himself with all the inbred entitlement of his family clout, a prince among commoners. Dark curls and hazel eyes that watched me with thinly veiled derision, and if I squinted just right, the warm, orange glow of his magic was so bright it bordered on blinding. Fun fact, though? He’d just about melted into me when I’d dragged my teeth along his throat.
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