Kb Worlds Command


COMMAND is an emotionally charged, second chance, steamy, standalone
contemporary romance set in K. Bromberg’s Everyday Heroes World project.


An intoxicated haze and a pair of handcuffs were not how I planned to spend my first night back in Sunnyville— but up to this point, life had been anything but predictable. Running into my former love was inevitable, but nothing prepared me for the sight of Nathan Donleavy wearing a uniform. After all this time he still made my knees weak and my mouth water— for a split second I couldn’t help but remember happier times. Then his badge caught the light and reminded me that this wasn’t some walk down memory lane. He was a cop and we were standing on opposite sides of the law. I see the way he looks at me…I didn’t need his pity then, and I don’t need it now.

Shana Callahan was the one that got away. She was also the last person I expected to see when I showed up to a call. The vibrant, beautiful girl I fell for all those years ago had been replaced by someone else, someone I barely recognized. My sympathy turned to anger when I remember her partying ways and how she walked away from me—from us. She might still be lost in her grief, but I had a job to do. I vowed to protect and serve, but my wanting to protect her had nothing to do with my badge and everything to do with the girl who used to steal kisses from me. That’s the girl I needed to find buried beneath the anger and hurt. We can do things the easy way or the hard way, but I’m not letting her walk away… again.


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“This novel had me running through all the emotions. The mom in me wanted to break through Shana’s walls and help her through her pan and unruliness, but the author moved your emotions to the understanding that Shana had to find herself on her own. I can’t think of another novel that had my heart feeling so many emotions. Wonderful story, loss, love, patience, and loyalty.” Amazon Review


Excerpt from COMMAND


How many lives do we live? Most say only one. I was on my second by twenty-five. The first time, I existed as my brother Jackson’s shadow. Though we shared the same birthday, he came out first and shone so bright from that day on. I wanted to be him. I wanted that light to touch me, but no matter what I did, I never came close. So I became his shadow. 

Whatever he did, I did. Wherever he went, I went. So much so, “Shadow” became my nickname. And honestly, I liked being his shadow. He made me a part of something bigger than myself. It felt better than just being me. But what happens to the shadow when the light is gone? Does it still exist?

My knuckles went white as my hands stiffened on the steering wheel. The exit off the highway for Sunnyville had finally come into view after eight hours on the road. I should have exited at Lake Drive, far closer to my parents’ home in Callahan Hills. But I drove down Main Street first. The familiar sights and smells flew past the open window of my 1967 Chevelle SS. I inhaled the espresso’s earthy scent from Better Buzz, a coffee shop tucked between a shoe store and a donut shop, with strings of lights out front. Daisy’s Flowers still took up a whole corner, with cheerful florals plucked and preened to perfection. Lulu’s Diner—packed to the gills. Shops in Sunnyville rarely changed. Like most of the people here, they stayed in place, like ornaments, shiny and perfect for hanging—though most were less dazzling when cracked open.

The only things that had changed in the three years since I’d left were my parents, who’d “asked” me to come home. My Simple Style app company went bust. With no more money or access to my trust (thank you very much, Dad), I had nowhere else to go. Living in LA was great when you had your shit together, not so much when you lost it.

Nothing on Main Street enticed me to stop. I turned around at the end of the oceanfront boardwalk in the visitor parking lot and headed up Ocean Drive toward Fox Point Bridge. A chill went through my body on approach. If there had been another way to reach Callahan Hills from downtown, I would’ve taken the route. But I couldn’t turn around.

The repaved road was lined with joggers and bikes pedaling along the painted divide. Hands raised to wave as I passed, and I waved back with little thought. I almost made it to the other side before Jackson appeared.

He stood between an opening in the capstones at the peak of the incline on the bridge. Water dripped from his body and drizzled off his boxer briefs. His brown hair, usually tousled waves, slicked back from his face, revealing a mischievous grin. Come with me, Shadow. He leaped back, falling into the water below.

I gasped. The air rushed out of my lungs as I swerved. A horn blared, and “What the fuck!” came from the passenger side of the car I almost hit. Shit. My hands shook as I gripped the wheel. I took short breaths to ease my racing pulse. Then I sped up, cutting off a car to take the next exit off the bridge and leaving Jackson’s ghost in my rearview mirror.

McGregor’s had the biggest parking lot off the exit. Pulling in, I shut off the car and reached for the glove compartment. The bottle of pain relievers rattled in my shaking hands as I unscrewed the lid and dropped two into my hand.

I hadn’t gone crazy. Jackson’s not there.