I’m Camille— the only pauper in Mount Evor. But that’s not why I’m on the no-fly list. Six years ago, the principality’s royal palace went up in flames. Several people died. My sister Jeannette, who worked there, disappeared. The inquiry blamed her for the arson. Since then, I’ve been an outcast—compromised and harassed—but determined to clear my sister’s name.
Four weeks before Christmas, the hunky Louis de Valois, Duke of Arrago, raps on my window. What if he has news about Jeannette’s case? I invite him in. He glances at his watch and declines my invitation. And then he asks me to marry him.
Perfect for fans of Jill Shalvis, Lauren Landish, Nicole Snow and Louise Bay, this full-length novel stands on its own within an ongoing saga.
I set up the stepladder by the side of my trailer, climb on it, and begin to remove the snow from the roof. Half an hour later, I’ve scooped and brushed off all I that could reach. After returning the equipment to the shed, I reenter the trailer and dart to the kettle to make some tea and thaw my frigid hands.
Someone raps on my window. I’ve done my research, so I know the visitor at once. It’s him, His Smashing Handsomeness Marquess Louis-Philibert de Valois, heir to the dukedom of Arrago, and second cousin to Crown Prince Theodor.
With stiff cold hands, I open the door a crack without removing the chain lock.
The marquess strides toward me. “Hello. Are you Camille Mussey?”
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Louis de Valois. I believe my grandfather’s men told you I’d be paying a visit.”
Instead of confirming, I ask tartly, “How do I know you are who you say you are?”
“Er… You’re right. Of course.” He pulls an ID from the inner pocket of his coat.
I take the laminated card from his hand, read the name, look at the picture, then at his ridiculously well-proportioned face. Having seen dozens of photos of him online, I knew what to expect. I thought I was prepared. But I find myself gasping for air despite the chill.
No man should be allowed to look this hot, especially not a moneyed aristocrat. It’s like cheating. And I despise cheaters.
My breath is stuck in my throat just from looking at the man in front of me.
He’s tall and well-built and has intelligent hazel eyes, high cheekbones, a straight nose, chiseled lips, and a firm jawline. And all of that is framed by thick wavy hair the color of honey. He’s simply too much. If it weren’t for the crazy amount of sex appeal he gives off, I would’ve concluded that he isn’t human, but an android built to represent the perfect human male.
Mad at myself for the way I’m reacting to this toff, I return his ID. “What do you want?”
“Would you like the long version or the short version?”
“The short one, please.”
He glances at his expensive watch and mutters, “Just as well.” Then he meets my gaze. “I want to marry you.”
“Huh?”
The next second, I burst into laughter, double up, and go on and on, releasing the nervous energy that’s been building for days.
Once my heart rate is back to normal, I wipe my eyes, and inject all the snark I’m capable of into my words, “When I feel like being pranked, my lord, all I need to do is snap my fingers.”
He begins to protest, but I hold up my palm to shut him up.
“You see, half of the principality has been lining up for years for the honor. You don’t get special treatment. Take a number and go to the end of the line.”
*****
Author Info:
Alix Nichols is a caffeine addict, a fan of Mr. Darcy and an award-winning author on Book Riot’s list of 100 must-read international romances.
She pens sexy romantic comedies and romantic fantasy. Her books have been described as “pure pleasure” (Kirkus Reviews) that “keep fans of romance hanging off the edge of your seat” (RT Book Reviews).
At the age of six, she released her first book. It featured highly creative spelling on a dozen pages stitched together and bound in velvet paper. Decades later, she still writes. Her spelling has improved (somewhat), and her books have topped bestseller charts around the world.
She lives in France with her family and their almost-human dog.
When there is Love at Sea, can a week-long cruise prove they deserve a shot at forever? Kacey Reid has had a thing for his sister’s best friend, Ashley Kennedy for as long as he remembers, but has fought his attraction for just as long. Being stuck together on the cruise will either give him the chance to finally prove that he’s not the unreliable man she always thought he was or it will it just ruin everything. Fans of Forbidden Romances will devour RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP by S.A. Clayton, a sexy, best friend’s sibling romance.
Ruin the Friendship
Love at Sea series
by S.A. Clayton
Blurb:
Ashley
I’ve had a thing for my best friend’s brother, Kacey, for as long as I could remember.
I mean, what’s not to love?
He’s smart, sexy as hell, and everything I ever wanted in a man — except for the part where he’s totally unreliable.
Being stuck on a seven day cruise with my favorite friend-emy?
Well, that may be more than enough to drive me insane, in more ways than one.
Kacey
I’ve wanted Ashley my whole life.
Sure, she’s my sister’s very best friend but she’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.
But, not all that long ago she told me to move on. To forget her.
Except there is no forgetting Ashley and I’m going to spend the next seven days trying to prove that I’ve changed and we deserve a shot at this forever thing.
No matter what happens, one thing is certain — I’m ready to ruin our friendship.
Ruin the friendship is a best friend’s sibling romance, part of the Love at Sea multi-author series. Get ready to set sail through the Caribbean on Festival Cruises’ most alluring voyage with eight of your favorite authors – happily ever after guaranteed!
Experience everything the Love at Sea series has to offer. From speed dating to masquerades, guests are sure to enjoy the hot days and steamy nights. Explore hidden waterfalls, swim with dolphins, and watch as eight couples find their forever on the open ocean.
The instant I open the door and see the figure bent over the hood of his car, my heart stops. I haven’t seen Kacey Reid since prom night when he drove Kelsey and me home after our disastrous dates ditched us at the after-party. I secretly fell in love with him that night, basking in the way the rage washed over him when Kelsey explained what happened, loving the way his eyes softened when he met my eyes and gave me his jacket when I was cold. I tried to forget him, even moving to the other side of the continent, but nothing worked. I was still in love with my best friend’s twin brother.
“Well look who decided to finally come back home after all these years,” Kacey teases, that knowing smirk playing at the edges of his lips as his blue eyes latch onto mine. I take a breath, wondering how one man can change so much and yet so little in three years. His once shaggy blond hair is cut short, tendrils falling strategically in front of his face, making him look older than his twenty-one years. His crystal-clear blue eyes still cause my insides to flip every time they’re trained on me and those tattoos…they’re new. Both arms are covered and from the little I can see of his chest through his white t-shirt, that’s covered too.
“I’ve been home, you’re just never here,” I quip, loving the way his eyes shine with humor as they meet mine.
“Touché,” he says before grabbing the rag from his back pocket and wiping the grease from his hands. I wonder what those hands would feel like against me, how the calluses on those fingertips would feel gripping me tightly as I…I shake my head, silently berating myself for going there when I know I can’t.
“I didn’t know you were home?” My voice cracks as I make my way to the fridge on the other side of the car. Kacey’s eyes follow my every move. There was a time when I would have begged him to look at me the way he is right now, but I have to keep my distance because from what Kelsey has told me, he will ruin me.
“I’m not. My new place doesn’t have a garage to store this baby,” he says, shutting the hood. “I keep it here and Mom and Dad let me come over and work on it.” I nod, turning so my back is against the fridge, and our eyes connect.
“Are you sure it’s not just a ploy to get you to come home more?” I say, his eyes widening as if the thought never crossed his mind.
“Well shit,” he mutters, a small laugh leaving his throat as I smile, turning back around to get the beers out of the fridge. The second my back is turned and the door is open, I sense him behind me.
“Kacey, what are you doing?” I whisper just as his fingers grip my waist, hauling me back until I can feel all of him. Every hard inch. My breath shudders as those deft fingers trace over my hip and rest just over the waistband of my bikini bottoms.
“Do you know how many times I’ve told myself to stay away from you?” he mutters against my neck, the stubble on his jaw causing delicious friction against my skin. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to remind myself that you’re my sister’s best friend?” I shake my head, my fingers gripping his wrist as the tips of his fingers drop just below my bikini, causing every breath to leave my lungs.
“Kacey we can’t do this,” I whisper, closing my eyes and wishing we could, wishing I could feel what his lust feels like against me, what his passion would feel like inside me.
“I know,” he growls against the shell of my ear, nipping at the lobe until I’m putty in his hands. “But that doesn’t mean I can walk away without a taste…”
Copyright 2022 @S.A. Clayton
*****
Author Info:
S.A. Clayton lives in a small town outside of Toronto, Canada with her husband and her scary large collection of books that seem to take over every room.
She has worked on both sides of the publishing industry, both in a bookstore and for actual publishing companies. Although she loved both for different reasons, she found that writing was her true passion and has spent the last few years breaking into the industry as best she can.
She is a lover of all things romance and began her writing journey in her late twenties. Since then, she has immersed herself in the romance genre and couldn’t be happier.
When she’s not writing or reading, she enjoys binging a great Netflix show (Stranger Things anyone?), baking (because who doesn’t love cookies!) and spending time with her family.
Get ready to set sail through the Caribbean on Festival Cruises’ most alluring voyage with eight of your favorite authors – happily ever after guaranteed!
Experience everything the Love at Sea series has to offer. From speed dating to masquerades, guests are sure to enjoy the hot days and steamy nights. Explore hidden waterfalls, swim with dolphins, and watch as eight couples find their forever on the open ocean.
Each story features a brand new couple and a fun trope from our amazing line up of authors including: Kate Stacy, HM Thomas, Mari Sol, S.A. Clayton, T.L. Anderson, Karigan Hale, Susan Renee, and A.M. Williams.
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They are friends. Without benefits. Unfortunately.
Michael LeClaire is small-town Louisiana. A firefighter. A single dad.
And Amelia Landry is New York City. A social media influencer. A model.
Sure, she’s his son’s favorite person on the planet.
And yeah, their families spend so much time together it’s hard to remember who shares DNA and who just shares secrets, inside jokes, and a sincere lack of boundaries.
And okay, he’s seen her nerdy side. Her sweet side. Her funny, self-deprecating side.
Fine, yes, resisting this woman has taken a saint’s share of willpower.
But he has to. He just cannot do long-distance. And he can’t have a casual fling with someone he’s known–and will know–forever.
Thankfully, he only has to hide his feelings a few times a year when she visits.
And then, he slips. One time. One spontaneous I-knew-it-would-be-everything kiss and he’s a goner.
Now every time they see each other it’s harder and harder to ignore the heat.
And when she shows up on his doorstep after a car accident changes her entire life, there’s no way he can resist the chance to see if this can last…or if they’ll finally flame out.
“If you don’t want our sisters to think they’re right about everything, you have to quit looking at me like that.”
Michael LeClaire had three choices here.
He could pretend he had no idea what Amelia Landry was talking about, turn, smile nonchalantly, and try to have a normal, casual conversation with her.
That was going to be nearly impossible, of course. This was Ami. There was no being casual around her. He hadn’t been able to pull nonchalant off since he’d first seen her walk down the dock in a lime green bikini the summer she’d turned twenty. But then, eleven months ago, everything had changed and now…yeah, casual was completely off the table.
He’d known she’d be here. Of course. It was her sister’s wedding. She was a bridesmaid. He’d been preparing to see her. Still, it had been three months and the last time…leaving her at that airport had been so much harder than he’d expected. He didn’t think there’d be anything casual about the things he’d end up saying to her tonight if they talked alone.
His second option was setting something on fire so that he would have to don his fire gear and do something with his evening other than watch Ami in her off-the-shoulder peach-colored bridesmaid dress, laughing and dancing and looking fucking stunning while he struggled to remember why they were only friends. As he did every single time she stood too close to him.
The reasons were good. He knew that. The primary one being that she lived in fucking New York City and he lived in Autre, Louisiana and that would just never work out. He had a kid. He was the fire chief here. His entire family was here. He couldn’t move to New York—nor did he want to—and he couldn’t travel there on a regular basis.
Ami was a model. She’d just landed a huge contract. The contract she’d been hoping and working for. She’d moved from Shreveport to New York only three months ago. She wasn’t coming back to Louisiana and also couldn’t be traveling back here on a regular basis.
Fuck New York City.
Yeah, setting something on fire kind of seemed like a great idea.
And then there was his third option: turning, throwing her over his shoulder, taking her straight back to his house, and not letting her out of his bed for a week, whether they could be together long-term or not.
Which would only make all of this—the wanting her, the thinking about her, the missing her—so much worse.
He wasn’t going to be able to do any of those three things.
He was screwed.
So, he sucked in a deep lungful of oxygen and turned, deciding to go with his fourth option—just praying to not fuck everything up. “Am I that obvious?”
Ami smiled up at him. “I just really think it’s unfair that they’re assuming things that I didn’t actually get to experience.”
He shook his head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Talk about how Charlie and Naomi are assuming their matchmaking worked and we spent the entire weekend you were in New York in bed together?”
“Ami,” he said, his voice low with warning.
“Hey, you’re the one looking at me like you’ve seen me naked and want to again,” she said. “Don’t blame me.”
He tossed back the rest of his drink, wished it was alcohol and not just soda, reminded himself that staying completely sober while Ami was in town for the first time since New York was a really, really good idea, and said, “That’s not how I’m looking at you.”
She put a hand on her hip. “Then how would you describe the way you’ve been watching me from across the room but totally ignoring me whenever we’re close enough to talk?”
“Like I’ve been jerking off practically every night for the past three months because I didn’t get you naked, and like since you got back to town I’ve been constantly about ten seconds away from picking you up, taking you home, and tying you to my bed for the next week or two.”
Okay, so even without alcohol he was going to be dangerously inappropriate. And honest. Just as he’d feared.
Her eyes went wide.
Then she grinned. “Yes. You’re right. That’s a much better, more specific, description.”
*****
Review:
This was such a quick read for me – I loved Michael & Ami together. While not as quirky and humorous as some of the previous stories, Nicholas does an excellent job, like always, of blending the lighthearted moments with those that have a more emotional impact, while not forgetting to give her readers some heat as well.
Ami only knows how to be pretty but it’s something she’s really good at. Good enough for it to pay well, allowing her to support herself while helping others. And good enough to take her the NYC, far away from Louisiana and far away from those she loves.
Michael is a fixer and needs to be as involved as possible in the lives of those he loves. He has to be there to help solve ALL the things so a long distance relationship will definitely not work for him. Unfortunately Ami’s life continues to take her to places far from Michael.
I appreciate how both Michael and Ami approach themselves and each other with understanding of their needs. They are as honest as they can be and lay it out there for the other to see. Sometimes it means that they don’t get exactly what they want but it does mean that they are true to what is best for them at any given moment. As Ami’s (and Michael’s) world is rocked by an accident, and she heads to Autre to figure out what is next, the two may finally be given an opportunity for a future … if they can find a path that works for them both.
With this new series, Nicholas delivers more serious, impactful stories with the same finesse that she’s given us their more unconventional predecessors and, as always, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing what’s in store next.
(Part of a series but can be read as a stand alone.)
*****
Author Info:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Erin Nicholas has been writing romances almost as long as she’s been reading them. To date, she’s written over thirty sexy, contemporary novels that have been described as “toe-curling,” “enchanting,” “steamy,” and “fun.” She adores reluctant heroes, imperfect heroines, and happily ever afters.
Erin lives in the Midwest, where she enjoys spending time with her husband (who only wants to read the sex scenes in her books), her kids (who will never read the sex scenes in her books), and her family and friends (who claim to be “shocked” by the sex scenes in her books).
Is love a formula or pure fate? The residents of the small college town of Mountain View will soon find out. Love is in the air or rather in the coffee in book one of the ABCs of Romance series.
Anticipation
The ABCs of Romance
by Rue Harlow
Blurb:
What do beavers and baked goods have to do with love? Well, everything for Liliana Travis…
Travis, the owner of the local coffee shop, Higher Grounds. Her day job is serving caffeine highs, but her love life is at an all-time low. A meticulous planner ever since high school, she has a checklist for her perfect man and even plans for how she wants this future romance to unfold. But her carefully laid plans are about to be upended by something, rather someone, completely unanticipated from her past.
Dominic Moore has always been the hometown celebrity of Mountain View. The former captain of the high school football team turned NFL pro is the definition of the “golden boy”. But when Dom is caught in a scandal, he returns home to Mountain View to help his recently widowed grandmother open her dream bakery… and do some soul searching.
For Lili, Dom’s return is both exciting and a total gut punch. Her high school crush is back in town, but also fresh competition for her small business. To make matters worse, the nationwide baking competition, the Upper Crust Challenge, has come to town and bets are firmly on the table. Is it rivalry or romance as buttons are pushed, banter exchanged, and sparks fly? Maybe not everything in life can be perfectly anticipated…
For fans of The Kiss Quotient and The Soulmate Equation, Anticipation is a sweet and spicy debut from Rue Harlow that is sure to be addictive.
Liliana Travis was dressed like a giant beaver, missing only its head, ready for her life to dramatically change.
Even though the locker room reeked even more like sour socks than usual, Lili was only smelling roses. It had been a long football season — no longer than any other season, but Lili wasn’t into football at all — and now that it was finally ending, it was time for the final act in her epic plan.
“So …” Alicia prompted her. “What’s the plan?”
“You mean the ‘over-plan,’” Runa corrected Alicia.
Lili’s two best friends had been with her during every step of this little scheme, as they had stayed by her side for everything else throughout every noteworthy occasion in high school.
“I don’t over plan,” Lili defended herself, despite knowing how futile doing so would be, especially considering the crazy amount of thought she had poured into her nutty little endeavor so far.
“Okay.” Runa shrugged. “And I bet that Outlander show is gonna be great.”
“Shut up!” Lili laughed, sick of defending that one too. “Outlander is gonna be awesome.”
Lili had made her two besties get through as much of the historical time travel romance adventure as they were willing to read, but neither of them were as enamored by the genre buster as she was.
Not that she was obsessed at all. Lili didn’t get obsessed with anything, including Dominic Moore, no matter what Alicia and Runa said. The Mountain View Beavers’ star quarterback was as handsome as he was charming, and Lili had been dying for an actual conversation, instead of the fleeting exchanges in Statistics, he forgot about five minutes after they happened.
*****
Review:
Overall, I really enjoyed Anticipation and I’m curious what Harlow has in store next. However there were a few things that brought this one down for me. I think that Lili was a little too hard on Dom. She’s got some leftover negative feelings from high school but we never really got to see why she’s holding on to them so tightly. We know that there was a viral video but it doesn’t seem to be THAT horrible all things considered. And it wasn’t even Dom’s fault. (There are some logistics issues with that video – he’s the quarterback but he makes a game winning play for the defense …?) I also was thrown by the end of his career (not sure that what happened was that big a deal in the NFL) and exactly when Lili starts her day considering she runs a coffee shop so it should be pretty early but it seems like not so much. Other than Lili’s attitude, these were little things that just made me go hmmmm but didn’t stop me from enjoying the story. I will say, that once Lili gets over herself and starts being friendly to Dom, the two together are a delight. They are funny and entertaining and the push/pull between them is more positive, leading to a satisfying HEA. Definitely will read more from this author.
*****
Author Info:
Rue Harlow is a semi- professional baked goods aficionado. When not eating carbs or writing smutty novels, you can find her kicking back with a vodka tonic, putzing in her garden, or taking her convertible, Molly the Miata, for a spin. A native Brooklynite, she now resides in the Hudson Valley with her husband and two cats, Artemis and Apollo.
#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery’s second book set in the small town of Wishing Tree, Washington is the witty and heartfelt story of two friends who expectedly find the person–and the place in which–they belong this Christmas, for fans of Elin Hildebrand, Robyn Carr, and Susan Wiggs.
This small-town life wasn’t supposed to be for Camryn Neff. But after her mother died, Camryn moved home to Wishing Tree, Washington to care for her teenaged twin sisters and run the family wrapping paper business, Wrap Around the Clock. She loves her sisters and would do anything for them but, when they head off to college, she’s excited to move back to Chicago and restart her real life, completely attachment-free. So when a prospective client schedules a meeting and announces Project: Jake’s Bride, a plot to find a wife for her son, Camryn is completely disinterested. And when this client announces that Camryn is a candidate, she’s horrified. Being tied down is the last thing Camryn needs right now. She has no choice but to tell Jake what his mom is planning. But Camryn never expected to genuinely like him so much…
River Best knows all about the danger of keeping secrets. After all, she’s had her heart broken and her world rocked by secrets a few times now and she won’t ever let it happen again. New to Wishing Tree and a little shy, River is looking to get involved in the community so she lets her friends talk her into running for Snow Queen, one of the town’s honorary hosts of all Christmas events. She never expected to be drawn to Dylan Tucker, her Snow King. As the season progresses, River starts to trust him more and more and wonders if he’s the one. But little does River know that Dylan is keeping a secret from her, one that threatens everything between them.
“Your teeth are lovely, Camryn. Did you wear braces as a child?”
Camryn Neff reminded herself that not only was the woman sitting across from her a very wealthy potential client, but also that her mother had raised her to be polite to her elders. Still, it took serious effort to keep from falling out of her chair at the weirdness of the question.
“No. This is how they grew.”
Hmm, that didn’t sound right, although to be honest, she didn’t have a lot of experience when a conversation turned dental.
She refocused her mind to the meeting at hand. Not that she knew for sure why Helen Crane, leader of Wishing Tree society, such as it was, and sole owner of the very impressive Crane hotel empire, wanted to meet with her. The summons had come in the form of a handwritten note, inviting her to the large, sprawling estate on Grey Wolf Lake. Today at two.
So here Camryn was, wearing a business suit that had been hanging in her closet for over a year. The dress code for Wishing Tree retail and the dress code for the job in finance she’d left back in Chicago were very different. While it had been fun to dust off her gorgeous boots and a silk blouse, and discover her skirts still fit, she was ready to get to the point of the invitation.
“How can I help you, Mrs. Crane?” she asked.
“Helen, please.”
Camryn smiled. “Helen. I’m happy to host a wrapping party, either here or at the store. Or if you’d prefer, I can simply collect all your holiday gifts and wrap them for you.”
She casually glanced around at the high ceilings of the sitting room. There was a massive fireplace, intricate molding and a view of the lake that, even with two feet of snow on the ground, was spectacular. And while there were lovely fall floral displays on several surfaces, there wasn’t a hint of Christmas to be found. Not in Wishing Tree, eight days before Thanksgiving. Those decorations didn’t appear until the Friday after.
“I have some samples for custom wrapping paper,” she said, pulling out several sheets of paper from her leather briefcase. “The designs can be adjusted and the colors coordinated with what you have planned for this holiday season. Wrapped presents under a tree are such an elegant touch.”
“You’re very thorough,” Helen murmured. “Impressive.” She made a note on a pad. “Are you married, dear?”
“What?” Camryn clutched the wrapping paper samples. “No.”
Helen nodded. “Your mother passed away last year, didn’t she?”
A fist wrapped around Camryn’s heart. “Yes. In late October.”
“I remember her. She was a lovely woman. You and your sisters must have been devastated.”
That was one word for it, Camryn thought grimly, remembering how her life had been shattered by the loss. In the space of a few weeks, she’d gone from being a relatively carefree, engaged, happy junior executive in Chicago to the sole guardian for her twin sisters, all the while dealing with trying to keep Wrap Around the Clock, the family business, afloat. The first few months after her mother’s death were still a blur. She barely remembered anything about the holidays last year, save an unrelenting sadness.
“This year the season will be so much happier,” Helen said firmly. “Victoria and Lily are thriving at school. Of course they still miss their mother, but they’re happy, healthy young adults.” The older woman smiled. “I know the teen years can be trying but I confess I quite enjoyed them with Jake.”
Camryn frowned slightly. “How do you know about the twins?” she asked.
Helen’s smile never faded. “It’s Wishing Tree, my dear. Everyone knows more than everyone else thinks. Now, you’re probably wondering why I invited you over today.”
“To discuss wrapping paper?” Although even as Camryn voiced the question, she knew instinctively that was not the real reason.
Helen Crane was close to sixty, with perfect posture and short, dark hair. Her gaze was direct, her clothes stylish. She looked as if she’d never wanted for anything and was very used to getting her way.
“Of course you’ll take care of all my wrapping needs,” Helen said easily. “And I do like your idea of custom paper for faux presents under the tree. I’ll have my holiday decorator get in touch with you so you two can coordinate the design. But the real reason I asked you here is to talk about Jake.”
Camryn was having a little trouble keeping up. The order for wrapping and the custom paper was great news, but why would Helen want to discuss her son?
She knew who Jake was—everyone in town did. He was the handsome, successful heir to the Crane hotel fortune. He’d been the football captain in high school, had gone to Stanford. After learning the hotel business at the smaller Crane hotels, he was back in Wishing Tree, promoted to general manager of the largest, most luxurious of the properties.
They’d never run in the same circles back when they’d been kids, in part because she was a few years younger. She’d been a lowly freshman while he’d been a popular senior. Her only real connection with Jake was the fact that he’d once been engaged to her friend Reggie.
Helen sighed. “I’ve come to the conclusion that left to his own devices, Jake is never going to give me grandchildren. I lost my husband eighteen months ago, which has been very hard for me. It’s time for my son to get on with finding someone, getting married and having the grandchildren I deserve.”
Well, that put the whole “did you wear braces” conversational gambit in perspective, Camryn thought, not sure if she should laugh or just plain feel sorry for Jake. His mother was a powerful woman. Camryn sure wouldn’t want to cross her.
“I’m not sure what that has to do with me,” she admitted.
Helen tapped her pad of paper. “I’ve come up with a plan. I’m calling it Project: Jake’s Bride. I’m going to find my son a wife and you’re a potential candidate.”
Camryn heard all the words. Taken individually, she knew what Helen was saying. But when put together, in that exact way, the meaning completely escaped her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re pretty, you’re smart. You’ve done well at Wrap Around the Clock. You’re nurturing—look how you’ve cared for your baby sisters.” Helen smiled again. “I confess I do like the idea of instant grandchildren, so that’s a plus for you. There are other candidates, of course, but you’re definitely near the top of the list. All I need is confirmation from your gynecologist that you’re likely to be fertile and then we can get on with the business of you and Jake falling in love.”
“You want to know if I’m fertile?”
Camryn shoved the samples back in her briefcase and stood. “Mrs. Crane, I don’t know what century you think we’re living in, but this isn’t a conversation I’m going to have with you. My fertility is none of your business. Nor is my love life. If your plan is genuine, you need to rethink it. And while you’re doing that, you might want to make an appointment with your own doctor, because there’s absolutely something wrong with you.”
Helen looked surprisingly unconcerned. “You’re right, Camryn. I apologize. Mentioning fertility was going a bit too far. You’re the first candidate I’ve spoken to, so I’m still finding my way through all this.” She wrote on her pad. “I won’t bring that up again. But as to the rest of it, seriously, what are your thoughts?”
Camryn sank back on her chair. “Don’t do it. Meddling is one thing, but you’re talking about an actual campaign to find your son a bride. No. Just no. It’s likely to annoy him, and any woman who would participate in something like this isn’t anyone you want in your family.”
Helen nodded slowly. “An interesting point. It’s just they make it look so easy on those reality shows.”
“Nothing is real on those shows. The relationships don’t last. Jake’s going to find someone. Give him time.”
“I’ve given him two years. I’m not getting younger, you know.” Her expression turned wistful. “And I do want grandchildren.”
“Ask me on the right day and you can have the twins.”
Helen laughed. “I wish that were true.” Her humor faded. “Do you know my son?”
“Not really.”
“We could start with a coffee date.”
Camryn sighed. “Helen, seriously. This isn’t going to work. Let him get his own girl.”
“He’s not. That’s the problem. All right, I can see I’m not going to convince you to be a willing participant. I appreciate your time.” She rose. “I meant what I said about the wrapping. I’ll arrange to have all my gifts taken to your store. And my holiday decorator will be in touch about the custom paper.”
“Is the holiday decorator different from the regular decorator?” Camryn asked before she could stop herself.
Helen chuckled. “Yes, she is. My regular decorator is temperamental and shudders at the thought of all that cheer and tradition. He came over close to Christmas a few years ago and nearly fainted when he saw the tree in the family room.”
She leaned close and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s devoted to all the ornaments Jake made for me when he was little. There are plaster handprints and little stars made out of Popsicle sticks. My favorite is a tuna can with a tiny baby Jesus in the manger tucked inside. There’s bits of straw and a star.” She pressed both hands to her heart. “I tear up thinking about it.”
Baby Jesus in a tuna can? Helen was one strange woman.
Camryn collected her briefcase and followed Helen to the front door. Helen opened it, then looked at her.
“You’re sure about not being a part of Project: Jake’s Bride?”
“Yes. Very.” Camryn kept her tone firm, so there would be no misunderstanding.
“A pity, but I respect your honesty.”
Camryn walked to her SUV and put her briefcase in the backseat. Once she was behind the wheel, she glanced at the three-story house rising tall and proud against the snow and gray sky.
The rich really were different, she told herself as she circled the driveway and headed for the main road. Different in a cray-cray kind of way.
She turned left on North Ribbon Road. When she reached Cypress Highway, she started to turn right—the shortest way back to town. At the last minute, she went straight. Even as she drove north, she told herself it wasn’t her business. Maybe Jake knew about his mother’s plans. Maybe he supported them.
Okay, not that, she thought, passing the outlet mall, then turning on Red Cedar Highway and heading up the mountain. She might not know Jake very well, but Reggie had dated him for months. Reggie was a sweetie who would never go out with a jerk. So Jake had to be a regular kind of guy, and regular guys didn’t approve of their mothers finding them wives.
Besides, she doubted Jake needed any help in that department. He was tall, good-looking and really fit. She’d caught sight of him jogging past her store more than once and was willing to admit she’d stopped what she was doing to admire the view. He was also wealthy. Men like that didn’t need help getting dates.
The sign for the resort came into view. She slowed for a second, then groaned as she drove up to the valet. Maybe she was making a mistake, but there was no way she couldn’t tell Jake what had just happened. It felt too much like not mentioning toilet paper stuck to someone’s shoe.
If he already knew, then it would be a short conversation. If he didn’t care, then she would quietly think less of him and leave. If he was as horrified as she thought he might be, then she’d done her good deed for the week and yay her. Whatever the outcome, she would have done the right thing, which meant she would be able to sleep that night. Some days that was as good as it was going to get.
SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—family, friendship, romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations,” and readers seem to agree—40 million copies of her books have sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.
Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She’s passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as mom. Visit Susan online at http://www.susanmallery.com.
When there is Love at Sea, can they overcome their secrets and have a future together? Sebastian Greer isn’t on this cruise for fun and games, he’s here to catch a cheater. However, the more time he spends with his target, Zoey Anderson, he unexpectedly catches feelings for her but when the truth is revealed, he can’t get off of the ship fast enough. Fans of forbidden romances will enjoy SICK OF THIS SHIP by Mari Sol, a sexy enemies to lovers romance.
Sick of This Ship
Love at Sea series
by Mari Sol
Blurb:
Zoey
I would do anything for my sister. That includes pretending to be her on a cruise so she can stay behind and spy on her cheating husband.
My job? Take over her Instagram and enjoy myself.
But my tropical holiday becomes anything but relaxing, once I meet Sebastian Greer. Pain in the ass extraordinaire. A desperate man who can only be looking for one thing – to hook up with all the single women he can find on the ship.
Unfortunately, Sebastian seems to be everywhere I go. And the thing is, the more I run into him, the more I realize that maybe I was wrong about him after all.
Sebastian
Seducing a beautiful woman on a cruise? Sounds like a dream come true, right?
Wrong.
I’m not here to fall in love or even hook up. I’m here to catch a cheater.
That’s right, my boss thinks his wife is unfaithful, and it’s my job to prove it.
There’s just one problem…the more I get to know my target, the harder I find it to fight these unexpected feelings for her.
When she confesses that she’s not who I think she is, I’m pissed – even though I’ve been lying to her too.
With tensions flying high, we’re both sick of this ship. The end of the cruise can’t come soon enough. But after we disembark, no matter how much I want to forget her, I can’t. The question remains: could we overcome our secrets and have a future together, or did our ship already sink?
Sick of This Ship is an enemies-to-lovers romance, part of the Love at Sea multi-author series. Get ready to set sail through the Caribbean on Festival Cruises’ most alluring voyage with eight of your favorite authors – happily ever after guaranteed!
Experience everything the Love at Sea series has to offer. From speed dating to masquerades, guests are sure to enjoy the hot days and steamy nights. Explore hidden waterfalls, swim with dolphins, and watch as eight couples find their forever on the open ocean.
“Please, I need you, Zoey,” Anna says again. “I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t completely urgent.”
“Anna, you ask me literally every time you need anything.” I cross my arms, trying hard not to smile as my sister gives me her sweetest of puppy looks.
“You love helping me.” She pats my hair. You would never guess she’s the older sister here. But she’s not wrong. She’s my universe. I am here for everything she needs, no questions asked. I learned my lesson back when we were young. The one time it mattered, I wasn’t there for her, and it shattered everything. I’ll never make that mistake again.
“What if I help you back home in LA? We could figure out what Mike is up to together. Girl power. Sisterhood of the traveling penis. All that.”
“Zo, the cruise is where I need the help,” Anna says. “You can easily pass as me in photos that aren’t close-ups. Keeping my Instagram full of cruise shots is the perfect distraction for Mike while I follow him around LA.”
“I’ll help you however I can, but I would be most useful on land.”
“I know you hate even the thought of a cruise. But think of it this way. It’ll be much better than lying around watching TV in your tiny apartment back in LA while you rest your ankle. I’m pretty sure you had no other plans next week.”
“There’s plenty to do in LA, even with a sprained ankle.”
“You’re supposed to be resting, not running all over. At least on a cruise you can lounge at the pool, have all your meals taken care of, and beach it up in each port of call.”
I let out a long sigh. I hate that she’s right. Being marginally injured is the most boring possible status to have. I can sort of do everything, but I’m not supposed to do anything. It’s killing me. But if I still can’t run, jump, or climb at high speed after the break in filming for our big Meghan Marconi action thriller? That would be worse. That would jeopardize my entire career as a stunt double.
“I… but…” There has to be a reason I shouldn’t go on the cruise. I mean, I’ve summited Mount Kilimanjaro, sky-dived Interlaken, scaled El Capitan with my bare hands, and flipped a car off the London Bridge. Can you imagine me sitting around eating buffet with a bunch of retirees? “I was going to do a lot of upper body training at that new gym near the studio next week.”
“So were you planning to seduce a certain someone who’s been talking up his membership there?” Anna purses her lips.
“No.” I glare at her. “I’m not into Grant. I mean, whoever you’re talking about.”
“Why don’t you invite him to come on the cruise?” Anna cocks her head, one eyebrow raised.
“It’s easy enough to transfer a cruise ticket to someone else. I can give him Mike’s. A free trip with my gorgeous sister? Come on, he’d go.”
I could laugh. Anna knows I’m incapable of inviting a man to coffee, let alone a cruise. And a seduction at sea, by me?
“I am not inviting Grant Kevlar! We only met a month ago, in this very trailer. He would never go on a Caribbean Cruise with me, even if it’s free.”
“Who says I wouldn’t go on a free Caribbean Cruise with my new BFF?” Jamie Von Burger, my favorite hair stylist of all time- who I also met a month ago in this trailer- blows in the door, wet as a sewer rat. Jamie drops his umbrella, and water sprays the room. “I’m dying to get out of this Louisiana swamp. Please tell me you weren’t making up the idea of a jaunt to the Caribbean. I want to drink Piña Coladas in the sun with you, babes.”
Jamie air-kisses my cheek and his beard tickles my skin, while his long flowing locks cascade forward in a silken waterfall. “We’re a dream team. Think of the boys we could slay.”
Of course, at this very moment, in walks Grant Kevlar himself. Upon hearing Jamie’s words, he raises his eyebrows at me, a delectable smile playing over his soft lips. My heart stutter-stops. He’s the stunt double to the hunkiest of hunky actors, Zander Zane, but somehow, he’s much darker and sexier than his silver screen counterpart could ever be. I’d so go on a cruise if he was there. Even though I’d never admit it, maybe a small part of me hoped I’d bump into him at a certain LA gym.
“Jamie and Zoey are taking a Caribbean Cruise next week.” Anna smiles. Jamie widens his eyes at her. I narrow mine. That little skunk.
Copyright 2022 @Mari Sol
*****
Author Info:
Mari Sol writes romantic comedy that’s been described as somewhere between Hallmark movies and the SNL skits about Hallmark movies. Her capable, assertive, and sometimes sarcastic female leads are adventurous and quirky, and the men who fall for them are absolutely worth your (er, their) time. Her Halloween book, “Romance is Dead” hit #6 on Amazon for Holiday Romance and features a very cinnamon-roll hero.
As most people do, Mari started writing Rom Coms when she was a stressed out corporate director and needed the escape. Her books will send you somewhere fun, like a tropical beach (or a haunted theme park) for some relaxing self care time. She loves the juicy bits – yes, allthe bits – but she believes in making healthy relationships hot, so her juice will be made with kale, and probably a cucumber or two.
If you want to know why you can trust her expertise in the romance and comedy departments, sign up to get her emails, and she’ll share at least a few spicy secrets.
Find her online at www.marisolwrites.com. (Pst! There’s a free, steamy Rom Com waiting for you there.)
Get ready to set sail through the Caribbean on Festival Cruises’ most alluring voyage with eight of your favorite authors – happily ever after guaranteed!
Experience everything the Love at Sea series has to offer. From speed dating to masquerades, guests are sure to enjoy the hot days and steamy nights. Explore hidden waterfalls, swim with dolphins, and watch as eight couples find their forever on the open ocean.
Each story features a brand new couple and a fun trope from our amazing line up of authors including: Kate Stacy, HM Thomas, Mari Sol, S.A. Clayton, T.L. Anderson, Karigan Hale, Susan Renee, and A.M. Williams.
This promotional event is brought to you by TheIndie Pen PR
USA Today bestselling author Patricia Davids continues her Amish romance series set in Harts, Haven, Kansas, with this emotional story about a cancer survivor and a grieving widower who are brought together at Christmas by the matchmakers of Harts Haven who have a little help from the hero’s daughters.
With Christmas just around the corner, an Amish cancer survivor moves to Harts Haven for a fresh start as the new schoolteacher. She wants to escape the pity that she felt from the people back hom eand throw herself into her new job. She’s worried her illness might return at any moment and isn’t looking for love. Neither is a local widower with two daughters. The loss of his wife devestated him, and he never wants to feel that kind of pain again. The matchmakers of Harts Haven set their sights on the pair, by having them work together on a living Nativity for the school Christmas program. With three elderly matchmakers, a school full of rambunctious children, a handsome widower, rowdy sheep and one cantankerous donkey, Harts Haven is about to witness an unforgettable Christmas Eve where two unlikely people discover healing love is the true Christmas gift.
Karl Graber cringed at the sound of Rose Yoder calling his name. He was in no mood to deal with her this morning.
After burning the oatmeal at breakfast, he discovered his renter had moved out in the night without giving notice or paying his back rent. Now Karl was going to be late getting to the store because his buggy horse was limping.
He pretended he hadn’t heard Rose. Maybe the elderly Amish woman who claimed to be the most successful matchmaker in Harts Haven would go pester some other poor fellow.
Bent over Checker’s front foot, Karl noticed that a stone lodged between the horse’s steel shoe and his hoof was the gelding’s problem.
“Hallo, Karl! I must speak with you.”
The tenacity of the eighty-four-year-old romance peddler was another difficulty Karl had to face this morning.
“I’m not interested in meeting your latest hopeful,” he muttered under his breath.
If the stubborn stone would come out, he could be on his way before the elderly woman reached the end of the block and crossed the wide street.
“Daed, Granny Rose is calling you.” His six-year-old daughter, Rachel, stood up and waved. Rose wasn’t related to Karl, but due to her advanced age most of the children in Harts Haven called her Granny.
“She’s coming this way,” Clara informed him from the front seat of the open buggy. His ten-year-old daughter wasn’t any more excited to see Rose than Karl was. She suspected the same thing he did. Rose was on a matchmaking mission.
“Hallo, Granny Rose,” Rachel shouted happily. “We’re taking our puppies to the store so someone can buy them. Would you like to see them?”
The offending stone popped loose. Karl dropped Checker’s hoof. “Got to get the store open, Rose. Can’t take time to visit.”
When he spun around, it was already too late. She had reached the buggy ahead of him. How did someone her age move so fast? She didn’t even look winded.
“Guder mariye, Karl. I’m so glad I caught you. There is a chill in the air this morning, isn’t there?”
It was the second week of November. Of course the air was cool. Rose hadn’t intercepted him for idle chitchat. He moved to step around her since she was blocking the buggy door. “Customers will be waiting for me.”
Rose didn’t budge. Other than picking her up and setting her aside, he had no hope of leaving until she finished having her say. He resigned himself to hearing who she thought would be perfect for him this time. As if any woman could take the place of his Nora.
“Did you find us a new mother?” Rachel’s hopeful tone stabbed his heart. Rachel was too young to remember much about the mother who died when she was three. She only knew other children had both mothers and fathers, and she wanted the same thing.
Clara scowled at her sister. “We don’t need a new mother. Ours is in Heaven. No one can replace her.”
Clara understood. She was old enough to remember what Nora had been like. A sweet, gentle, bright and loving woman. The world was a darker place without her.
Rose’s cheerful expression softened with sympathy. “I’m still looking for someone special to join your family. Clara is right. She won’t be your mother. Instead, she will be your stepmother, but she will love you and take care of you as if you were her own.”
Rachel sighed. “I hope you find her soon.”
“That’s enough, Rachel,” Karl said. “What do you want, Rose?”
“I’m here to tell you about the new teacher. She arrived yesterday. She and her sister are staying at the inn for the time being. They are Grace Sutter’s nieces from the Amish side of her family.”
Grace was another elderly widow, Old Order Mennonite, and co-owner of the Harts Haven Inn along with Rose and Rose’s widowed daughter, Susanna King. The trio were all fond of meddling. A single man stood little chance of remaining unattached in this Amish community unless he avoided the widows. Rose’s knowing smile put Karl on his guard.
Rachel clapped her hands. “Yay, the new teacher is here. Now I can go back to school and be in the Christmas program. I hope I get to be an angel like Thea and Miriam Bachman last year. Their mother made the most beautiful wings for them.”
Rose grinned. “Your teacher’s name is Sophie Eicher. Her sister is Joanna. They are lovely young women.”
“Also single and hoping to find husbands in Harts Haven. I know what you’re doing, Rose. Not interested!” If his cutting tone didn’t drive his point home, maybe his scowl would.
Rose puffed up like an angry little hen. “Don’t take that tone with me, Karl Graber. For shame.”
He was thirty-two years old, but she made him feel like an errant toddler. “I’m sorry.”
She inclined her head. “You are forgiven. I stopped to tell you we are hosting a welcome party at the inn on Saturday so folks can meet Sophie and her sister. Would you kindly spread the word?”
He eyed her suspiciously. Where was the catch? “Sure. What time?”
“We’ll start at noon, but folks can come and go as they please.” She turned to his daughters. “I know you girls must be excited to go back to school.”
“Teacher Becky had to leave to take care of her mother because she got sick,” Rachel said. “I only went to school for one week. I don’t think I learned much.”
“I taught you letters and numbers,” Karl said.
Rachel’s lower lip jutted out. “Only so I could help at the store. Not to read a book.”
There weren’t enough hours in the day to run the hardware store, manage the farm work, cook, keep house and still find time to instruct his daughters. Most days, he struggled just to get out of bed. He was doing the best he could.
“How soon will school resume?” he asked Rose.
“The bishop and the school board haven’t decided.” She leveled her gaze at him. “I know you’ll be at the welcome party.”
That was the catch. Grimacing, he shook his head. “Social gatherings aren’t something I enjoy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It is common courtesy to introduce yourself and your kinder to the new teacher. You remember what courtesy is, don’t you, Karl?” Rose turned on her heels and strode away.
His conscience smote him. It wasn’t right to be rude to anyone, yet alone an elder. He caught up with her in a few steps. “Rose, wait. I’m sorry.”
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure the girls couldn’t overhear; he lowered his voice. “It hasn’t been easy for me. Nora was the one who loved company. It doesn’t feel right to do things without her. It just makes me miss her more.”
Instantly, he was sorry he had shared that much.
Rose’s expression softened. “You have your daughters to consider. Nora wouldn’t want them shut up in the store all day. Nor would she approve of you taking them home straight after church services instead of letting them play with their friends so you can avoid talking to people. I understand grief, Karl. I buried my husband and a son-in-law who was dear to me. We all cope with loss differently, but don’t let your grief rob your kinder of their childhood.”
He focused on his feet. Maybe Rose was right. In his struggle to get through each day, he hadn’t always put his children’s welfare first. “I reckon I could close early for once. I’ll bring the girls to meet their new teacher.”
He looked up with a hard stare. “But don’t get the idea that I’ll go along with any of your matchmaking schemes.”
She shook her head. “Sophie needs someone special. You are completely wrong for her. I’m afraid the two of you would be at each other’s throats within a week.”
He drew back. “If she’s hard to get along with, should she be teaching?”
Rose poked her finger into his chest. “You are the problem, not Sophie.”
“Me? What’s wrong with me?”
“Plenty. You figure it out. Relax. You aren’t on my list of potential suitors.”
That made him smile. “You have a list already? I thought she only arrived yesterday.”
Rose grinned and winked. “There aren’t that many single Amish fellows in this area.”
Karl watched her walk away with a sense of relief that was quickly followed by an unsettling question. What did Rose think was wrong with him?
He kept to himself, but who could blame him? Losing his wife, his childhood sweetheart, had nearly broken him. Standing by helplessly as cancer sucked the life from her despite everything the doctors tried had devastated him.
His beautiful Nora had endured terrible pain. In her last days, he had stopped praying for her to be healed and only asked that God end her suffering and take her home. The guilt from those anguished thoughts never left him. He couldn’t love another woman. He was better off alone. He had his daughters. That was enough.
“Daed, we’re going to be late,” Clara called out.
Clara was trying hard to be his helper at home and in the business the way her mother had been. She worked hard. Perhaps too hard for a child her age. He returned to the buggy and got in. At least he didn’t have to worry about Rose trying to set him up with the new teacher. He wasn’t on her list.
USA Today best-selling author Patricia Davids was born in Kansas. After forty years as an NICU nurse, Pat switched careers to become an inspirational writer. She now enjoys laid back life on a Kansas farm, spending time with her family and playing with her dog Sugar, who thinks fetch should be a twenty-four hour a day game. When not throwing a ball, Pat is happily dreaming up new stories where love and faith conquer all.
From USA TODAY bestselling author Sheila Roberts comes a multi-generational Christmas road trip story filled with humor and heart, set against the snowy mountains of Washington state.
The Road to Christmas
by Sheila Roberts
ISBN: 9780778386568
Publication Date: September 20, 2022
Publisher: MIRA
Blurb:
Michelle and Max Turnbull are not planning on a happy holiday. Their marriage is in shambles and the D word has entered their vocabulary. But now their youngest daughter, Julia, wants everyone to come to her new house in Idaho for Christmas, and she’s got the guest room all ready for Mom and Dad. Oh, joy.
Their other two daughters are driving up from California. Audrey from L.A., picking up Shyla in San Francisco and hoping to meet a sexy rancher for Audrey along the way. What they don’t plan on is getting stranded on a ranch when the car breaks down.
The ones with the shortest drive are Grandma and Grandpa Turnbull (Hazel and Warren). They only have to come from Medford, Oregon. It’s still a bit of a trek and Hazel doesn’t like the idea of driving all that way in snow, but Warren knows they’ll have no problem. They have a reliable car for driving in the snow—and snow tires and chains if they need them. They’ll be fine.
Surprises are in store for all three groups of intrepid travelers as they set out on three different road trips and three different adventures, all leading to one memorable Christmas.
MICHELLE TURNBULL WOULD HAVE TWO turkeys in her house for Thanksgiving. One would be on the table, the other would be sitting at it.
“I can’t believe he’s still there,” said Ginny, her longtime clerk at the Hallmark store she managed. “You two are splitting, so why not rip the bandage off and be done with it?”
Rip the bandage off. There was an interesting metaphor. That implied that a wound was healing. The wound that was her marriage wasn’t healing, it was fatal.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and went to unlock the door. “Because I don’t want to ruin the holidays for the girls.”
“You think they aren’t going to figure out what’s going on with you two sleeping in separate bedrooms? Don’t be naive.”
Ginny may have been her subordinate, but that didn’t stop her from acting like Michelle’s mother. A ten-year age difference and a long friendship probably contributed to that. And with her mother gone, she doubly appreciated Ginny’s friendship and concern.
Michelle turned the sign on the door to Open. “I’ll tell them he snores.”
“All of a sudden, out of the blue?”
“Sleep apnea. He’s gained some weight.”
Ginny gave a snort. “Not that much. Max may have an inch hanging over the belt line but he’s still in pretty good shape.”
“You don’t have to be overweight to have sleep apnea.”
“I guess,” Ginny said dubiously. “But, Michelle, you guys have been having problems on and off for the last five years. Your girls have to know this is coming so I doubt your sleep-apnea excuse is going to fool anyone.”
Probably not. Much as she and Max had tried to keep their troubles from their daughters, bits of bitterness and reproach had leaked out over time in the form of sarcasm and a lack of what Shyla would have referred to as PDA. Michelle couldn’t remember the last time they’d held hands or kissed in front of any of their daughters. In fact, it was hard to remember the last time they’d kissed. Period.
“You have my permission to kick him to the curb as of yesterday,” Ginny went on. “If you really want your holidays to be happy, get him gone.”
“Oh, yeah, that would make for happy holidays,” Michelle said. “Audrey and Shyla would love coming home to find their father moved out just in time for Thanksgiving dinner and their grandparents absent.”
“If you’re getting divorced, that’s what they’ll find next year,” Ginny pointed out.
“But at least they’ll have a year to adjust,” Michelle said. “And this is Julia’s first Christmas in her new home and with a baby. I don’t want to take the shine away from that.”
The coming year would put enough stress on them all. She certainly wasn’t going to kick it all off on Thanksgiving. That wouldn’t make for happy holidays.
Happy holidays. Who was she kidding? The upcoming holidays weren’t going to be happy no matter what.
“Well, I see your point,” said Ginny. “But good luck pulling off the old sleep-apnea deception.”
Their first customer of the day came in, and that ended all talk of Michelle’s marriage miseries. Which was fine with her. Focusing on her miserable relationship didn’t exactly put a smile on her face, and wearing a perpetual frown was no way to greet shoppers.
After work, she stopped at the grocery store and picked up the last of what she needed for Thanksgiving: the whipped cream for the fruit salad and to top the pumpkin and pecan pies, the extra eggnog for Shyla, her eggnog addict, Dove dark chocolates for Audrey, and Constant Comment tea, which was Hazel’s favorite.
Hazel. World’s best mother-in-law. When Michelle and Max divorced he’d take Hazel and Warren, her second parents, with him. The thought made it hard to force a smile for the checkout clerk. She stepped out of line. She needed one more thing.
She hurried back to the candy aisle and picked up more dark chocolate, this time for her personal stash.
Hazel and Warren were the first to arrive, coming in the day before Thanksgiving, Hazel bringing pecan pie and the makings for her famous Kahlua yams.
“Hello, darling,” Hazel said, greeting her with a hug. “You look lovely as always. I do wish I had your slender figure,” she added as they stepped inside.
“You look fine just the way you are,” Michelle assured her.
“I swear, the older I get the harder the pounds cling to my hips,” Hazel said.
“You look fine, hon,” said Warren as he gave Michelle one of his big bear hugs. “She’s still as pretty as the day I met her,” he told Michelle.
“Yes, all twenty new wrinkles and five new pounds. On top of the others,” Hazel said with a shake of her head.
“Who notices pounds when they’re looking at your smile?” Michelle said to her. “Here, let me take your coats.”
Hazel set down the shopping bag full of goodies and shrugged out of her coat with the help of her husband. “Where’s our boy?”
Who knew? Who cared?
“Out running errands,” she said. “I’ll text him that you’re here. First, let’s get you settled.”
“I’m ready for that,” Hazel said. “The drive from Oregon gets longer every time.”
“It’s not that far,” Warren said and followed her up the stairs.
Half an hour later Max had returned, and he and his father were in the living room, the sports channel keeping them company, and the two women were in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea. The yams were ready and stored in the fridge, and the pecan pie was in its container, resting on the counter next to the pumpkin pie Michelle had taken out of the oven. A large pot of vegetable soup was bubbling on the stove, and French bread was warming. It would be a light evening meal to save everyone’s tummy room for the next day’s feast.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the girls,” Hazel said.
“So am I,” said Michelle.
She hated that all her girls had moved so far away. Not that she minded hopping a plane to see either Audrey or Shyla. It wasn’t a long flight from SeaTac International to either San Francisco International or LAX, but it also wasn’t the same as having them living nearby. Julia wasn’t as easily accessible, which made her absence harder to take. She’d been the final baby bird to leave the nest, and dealing with her departure had been a challenge. Perhaps because she was the last. Perhaps because it seemed she grew up and left all in one quick motherly blink: college, the boyfriend, the pregnancy, marriage, then moving. It had been painful to let go of her baby. And even more so with that baby taking the first grandchild with her.
Maybe in some ways, though, it wasn’t a bad thing that her daughters were living in different states because they hadn’t been around to see the final deterioration of their parents’ marriage.
Michelle hoped they still wouldn’t see it. She consulted her phone. It was almost time for Audrey’s flight to land. Shyla’s was getting in not long after.
“Audrey’s going to text when they’re here,” she said.
“It will be lovely to all be together again,” said Hazel. “Family is so important.”
Was that some sort of message, a subtle judgment? “How about some more tea?” Michelle suggested. And more chocolate for me.
Another fifteen minutes and the text came in with Max and Warren on their way to pick up the girls, and forty minutes after that they were coming through the door, Shyla’s laugh echoing all the way out to the kitchen. “We’re here!” she called.
“Let the fun begin,” said Hazel, and the two women exchanged smiles and left the kitchen.
They got to the front hall in time to see Max heading up the stairs with the girls’ suitcases and Warren relieving them of their coats.
“Hi, Mom,” said Audrey and hurried to hug her mother.
Shyla was right behind her.
“Welcome home,” Michelle said to her girls, hugging first one, then the other. “It’s so good to have you home.”
“It’s not like we’ve been in a foreign country,” Shyla teased.
“You may as well be,” Michelle said. “And before you remind me how much we text and talk on the phone, it’s much better having you here in person where I can hug you.”
“Hugs are good,” Audrey agreed.
“We brought you chocolate,” Shyla said, handing over a gift bag.
Michelle knew what it was even before she looked inside. Yep, Ghirardelli straight from San Francisco.
“I know you can get it anywhere, but this is right from the source,” said Shyla.
More important, it was right from the heart.
“And you don’t have to share,” Audrey said. “We brought Dad some, too.”
Sharing with Dad. There was little enough she and Max shared anymore. “That was sweet of you.”
“We figured you might need it,” Audrey said.
Was she referring to Michelle’s troubled relationship with their father? No, couldn’t be.
“After last Thanksgiving,” Shyla added.
Michelle breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, they were talking about the power outage, which had ruined both the turkey and the pie she’d had in the oven.
The girls had loved it, settling in to play cards by candlelight. Michelle had been frustrated. And far from happy with her husband who’d said, “Chill, Chelle. It’s no big deal.”
It had been to her, but she’d eventually adjusted, lit the candles on the table and served peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with olives and pickles and the fruit salad she’d made, along with the pie Hazel had brought. Hazel had declared the meal a success.
Max had said nothing encouraging. Of course.
“Oh, and this.” Shyla dug in the bag she was still carrying and pulled out a jar of peanut butter. “Just in case we have to eat peanut butter sandwiches again.”
Hazel chuckled. “You girls think of everything.”
“Yes, we do,” Audrey said, and from her capacious purse pulled out a box of crackers. “In case we run out of bread.”
“Now we’re set,” said Michelle and smiled. It was the first genuine smile she’d worn since the last time she’d been with the girls. It felt good.
“Oh, and I have something special for you, Gram,” Shyla said to Hazel. “It’s in my suitcase. Come on upstairs.”
Michelle started. She didn’t need Hazel seeing where the girls were staying and wondering why they were stuffed in the sewing room and not the other guest room. “Why don’t you bring it down here?” Michelle suggested.
“I should stir my stumps,” Hazel said and followed her granddaughter up the stairs.
Audrey fell in behind, and Michelle trailed after, her stomach starting to squirm. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure about that excuse she’d invented for changing her husband’s sleeping arrangements. But the excuse was going to have to do because she didn’t have time to think of anything better.
They passed the first bedroom at the top of the stairs, which had once been Audrey’s and had been serving as a guest room ever since she’d graduated from college and got her first apartment. It was where Warren and Hazel slept when they came to visit. Then came the second room, which had been Julia’s but was serving as Max’s new bedroom. The door was shut, hiding the evidence. Shyla reached for the doorknob.
“Not that room,” Michelle said quickly. “I have you girls together,” she said, leading to Shyla’s old room, which was serving as the sewing room. It still had a pullout bed in it for overflow sleeping when Michelle’s brother’s family came to stay. Bracing herself, she opened it, revealing the girls’ luggage sitting on the floor.
Audrey looked at Michelle, her brows pulled together. “We’re in the sewing room?”
“You girls don’t mind sharing a room, right?” Michelle said lightly.
“What happened to Julia’s old room?” Shyla asked.
“We’re not using that room for now,” Michelle hedged.
“More storage?” Shyla moved back down the hall and opened the door. “What the…”
“Your father’s sleeping there,” Michelle said. Hazel looked at her in surprise, igniting a fire in her cheeks.
“Dad?” Audrey repeated.
“He snores,” said Michelle. “Sleep apnea.”
“Sleep apnea,” Hazel repeated, trying out a foreign and unwanted word.
“Has he done a sleep test?” Audrey asked.
“Not yet,” said Michelle. She kept her gaze averted from her daughter’s eyes.
“Gosh, Mom, that’s a serious sleep disorder.”
“How come you didn’t tell us?” Shyla wanted to know.
“Is he getting a CPAP machine?” Audrey sounded ready to panic.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s under control,” Michelle lied. Audrey looked ready to keep probing so Michelle hustled to change the subject. “Shyla, what did your bring Gram?”
“Wait till you see it. It’s so cute,” Shyla said, hurrying to unzip her suitcase. “I found it in a thrift shop.”
“Still shopping smart. I’m proud of you,” Hazel said.
“I learned from the best—you and Mom.” She pulled out a little green stuffed felt cactus inserted in a miniature terra-cotta pot and surrounded by beach glass. “It’s a pin cushion,” she said as she presented it.
“That is darling,” said Hazel.
From where she stood by the doorway, Michelle let out a breath, then took another. Like a good magician performing sleight of hand, she had diverted attention to something else and pulled off her trick. Now you see trouble, now you don’t.
Sheila Roberts lives on a lake in Washington State, where most of her novels are set. Her books have been published in several languages. On Strike for Christmas, was made into a movie for the Lifetime Movie Network and her novel, The Nine Lives of Christmas, was made into a movie for Hallmark. You can visit Sheila on Twitter and Facebook or at her website (http://www.sheilasplace.com).
A special gift Christmas hardcover anthology of 2 Virgin River novellas by #1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr plus an introduction from the author and select recipes and explanations of the holiday traditions celebrated in Virgin River.
Holidays in Virgin River
Virgin River series
by Robyn Carr
ISBN: 9780778387176
Publication Date: October 4, 2022
Publisher: MIRA
Blurb:
Contains two Virgin River novellas: Under the Christmas Tree and Midnight Confessions along with at least 10 recipes and anecdotes written by Robyn Carr about why the recipes are special to specific characters from VR. We’ll also have an introduction written by Robyn explaining why she wrote Virgin River in the first place and why it resonates so strongly with audiences today. Examples of recipes are: The VR cookie exchange (Gingerbread cookies, Traditional Scottish Shortbread, Lemon Bars, Chocolate Chip Cookies) Hot drinks to enjoy as they decorate the town Christmas tree (mulled wine, homemade hot chocolate) Preacher’s famous meatloaf and garlic mash, to name a few.
Because of a box full of cold, hungry, barely moving puppies, Annie had all but forgotten the reason she’d ended up in Virgin River. It was three weeks till Christmas and her three older brothers, their wives and their kids would descend on her parents’ farm for the holiday. Today was one of her two days off a week from the beauty shop. Yesterday, Sunday, she’d baked with her mom all day and today she’d gotten up early to make a couple of big casseroles her mom could freeze for the holiday company. Today, she’d planned to cook with her mom, maybe take one of her two horses out for a ride and say hello to Erasmus, her blue-ribbon bull. Erasmus was very old now and every hello could be the last. Then she’d planned to stay for dinner with her folks, something she did at least once a week. Being the youngest and only unmarried one of the McKenzie kids and also the only one who lived nearby, the task of looking in on Mom and Dad fell to her.
But here she was, hearthside, managing a box of newborn puppies. Jack rustled up the formula and cereal and a couple of warm towels from the dryer. Preacher provided the shallow bowls and mixed up the formula. She and Chris fed a couple of puppies at a time, coaxing them to lap up the food. She requisitioned an eyedropper from the medical clinic across the street for the pups who didn’t catch on to lapping up dinner.
Jack put in a call to a fellow he knew who was a veterinarian, and it turned out Annie knew him, too. Old Doc Jensen had put in regular appearances out at the farm since before she was born. Back in her dad’s younger days, he’d kept a thriving but small dairy farm. Lots of cows, a few horses, dogs and cats, goats and one ornery old bull. Jensen was a large-animal vet, but he’d be able to at least check out these puppies.
Annie asked Jack to also give her mom a call and explain what was holding her up. Her mom would laugh, knowing her daughter so well. Nothing would pry Annie away from a box of needy newborn puppies.
As the dinner hour approached, she couldn’t help but notice that the puppies were drawing a crowd. People stopped by where she sat at the hearth, asked for the story, reached into the box to ruffle the soft fur or even pick up a puppy. Annie wasn’t sure so much handling was a good idea, but as long as she could keep the little kids, particularly David, from mishandling them, she felt she’d at least won the battle if not the war.
“This bar has needed mascots for a long time,” someone said.
“Eight of ’em. Donner, Prancer, Comet, Vixen, and…
whoever.”
“Which one is Comet?” Chris asked. “Dad? Can I have Comet?”
“No. We operate an eating-and-drinking establishment,” Preacher said.
“Awww, Dad! Dad, come on. Please, Dad. I’ll do everything. I’ll sleep with him. I’ll make sure he’s nice. Please.”
“Christopher…”
“Please. Please? I never asked for anything before.”
“You ask for everything, as a matter of fact,” Preacher corrected him. “And get most of it.”
“Boy shouldn’t grow up without a dog,” someone said.
“Teaches responsibility and discipline,” was another comment.
“It’s not like he’d be in the kitchen all the time.”
“I run a ranch. Little hair in the potatoes never put me off.” Laughter sounded all around.
Four of the eight pups were doing real well; they were wriggling around with renewed strength and had lapped up some of the formula thickened with cereal. Two were trying to recover from what was certainly hunger and hypothermia; Annie managed to get a little food into them with an eyedropper. Two others were breathing, their hearts beating, but not only were they small, they were weak and listless. She dripped a little food into their tiny mouths and then tucked them under her shirt to keep them warm, hoping they might mistake her for their mother for now, all the time wondering if old Doc Jensen would ever show.
When yet another gust of wind blew in the opened front door, Annie momentarily forgot all about the puppies. Some of the best male eye candy she’d chanced upon in a long while had just walked into Jack’s Bar. He looked vaguely familiar, too. She wondered if maybe she’d seen him in a movie or on TV or something. He walked right up to the bar, and Jack greeted him enthusiastically.
“Hey, Nate! How’s it going? You get those plane tickets yet?”
“I took care of that a long time ago.” He laughed. “I’ve been looking forward to this forever. Before too long I’m going to be lying on a Nassau beach in the middle of a hundred string bikinis. I dream about it.”
“One of those Club Med things?” Jack asked.
“Nah.” He laughed again. “A few people from school. I haven’t seen most of them in years. We hardly keep in touch, but one of them put this holiday together and, since I was available, it sounded like an excellent idea. The guy who made the arrangements got one of those all-inclusive hotel deals—food, drinks, everything included except activities like deep-sea fishing or scuba diving—for when I’m not just lying on the sand, looking around at beautiful women in tiny bathing suits.”
“Good for you,” Jack said. “Beer?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Nate replied. And then, like the answer to a prayer she didn’t even know she’d uttered, he carried his beer right over to where she sat with the box of puppies. “Hello,” he said.
She swallowed, looking up. It was hard to tell how tall he was from her sitting position, but certainly over six feet. Annie noticed things like that because she was tall. His hair was dark brown; his eyes were an even darker brown and surrounded with loads of thick black lashes. Her mother called eyes like that “bedroom eyes.” He lifted his brows as he looked down at her. Then he smiled and revealed a dimple in one cheek.
“I said hello,” he repeated.
She coughed herself out of her stupor. “Hi.”
He frowned slightly. “Hey, I think you cut my hair once.”
“Possible. That’s what I do for a living.”
“Yeah, you did,” he said. “I remember now.”
“What was the problem with the haircut?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t know that there was a problem,” he replied.
“Then why didn’t you come back?”
He chuckled. “Okay, we argued about the stuff you wanted to put in it. I didn’t want it, you told me I did. You won and I went out of there looking all spiky. When I touched my head, it was like I had meringue in my hair.”
“Product,” she explained. “We call it product. It’s in style.”
“Yeah? I’m not, I guess,” he said, sitting down on the raised hearth on the other side of the box. He reached in and picked up a puppy. “I don’t like product in my hair.”
“Your hands clean?” she asked him.
He gave her a startled look. Then his eyes slowly wandered from her face to her chest and he smiled slightly. “Um, I think you’re moving,” he said. “Or maybe you’re just very excited to meet me.” And then he grinned playfully.
“Oh, you’re funny,” Annie replied, reaching under her sweater to pull out a tiny squirming animal. “You make up that line all by your little self?”
He tilted his head and took the puppy out of her hands. “I’d say at least part border collie. Looks like mostly border collie, but they can take on other characteristics as they get older. Cute,” he observed. “Plenty of pastoral breeds around here.”
“Those two are the weakest of the bunch, so please be careful. I’m waiting for the vet.”
He balanced two little puppies in one big hand and pulled a pair of glasses out of the pocket of his suede jacket. “I’m the vet.” He slipped on his glasses and, holding both pups upside down, looked at their eyes, mouth, ears and pushed on their bellies with a finger.
She was speechless for a minute. “You’re not old Doc Jensen.”
“Nathaniel Junior,” he said. “Nate. You know my father?” he asked, still concentrating on the puppies. He put them in the box and picked up two more, repeating the process.
“He…ah… My folks have a farm down by Alder Point. Hey! I grew up there! Not all that far from Doc’s clinic and stable. Shouldn’t I know you?”
He looked over the tops of his glasses. “I don’t know. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Well, there you go. I’m thirty-two. Got a few years on you. Where’d you go to school?”
“Fortuna. You?”
“Valley.” He laughed. “I guess you can call me old Doc Jensen now.” And there was that grin again. No way he could have grown up within fifty miles of her farm without her knowing him. He was too delicious-looking.
“I have older brothers,” she said. “Beau, Brad and Jim McKenzie. All older than you.”
At first he was startled at this news, then he broke into a wide smile. Then he laughed. “Are you that skinny, fuzzy-haired, freckle-faced, tin-mouthed pain in the neck who always followed Beau and Brad around?”
Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him.
“No,” he said, laughing. “That must have been someone else. Your hair isn’t pumpkin orange. And you’re not all that…” He paused for a second, then said, “Got your braces off, I see.” By her frown, he realized he hadn’t scored with that comment.
“Where is your father? I want a second opinion!”
“Okay, you’re not so skinny anymore, either.” He smiled, proud of himself.
“Very, very old joke, sparky,” she said.
“Well, you’re out of luck, cupcake. My mom and dad finally realized a dream come true and moved to Arizona where they could have horses and be warm and pay lower taxes. One of my older sisters lives there with her family. I’ve got another sister in Southern California and another one in Nevada. I’m the new old Doc Jensen.”
Now it was coming back to her—Doc Jensen had kids, all older than she was. Too much older for her to have known them in school. But she did vaguely remember the son who came with him to the farm on rare occasions. One corner of her mouth quirked up in a half grin. “Are you that little, pimply, tin-mouthed runt with the squeaky voice who came out to the farm with your dad sometimes?”
He frowned and made a sound. “I was a late bloomer,” he said.
Robyn Carr is an award-winning, #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than sixty novels, including highly praised women’s fiction such as Four Friends and The View From Alameda Island and the critically acclaimed Virgin River, Thunder Point and Sullivan’s Crossing series. Virgin River is now a Netflix Original series. Robyn lives in Las Vegas, Nevada. Visit her website at http://www.RobynCarr.com.
My name is Louise and I’m a serial-monogamist marine biologist.
Try saying that five times fast.
Fresh out of an awful relationship and tired of always doing the right thing, this girl is finally saying “screw it” and having herself a meaningless fling.
Here’s the thing about flings though: they only work if you keep feelings out of the equation.
Well, that won’t be a problem for a sensible scientist like me… that is, until a one night stand with a hot single dad rocks my world and blows my plans completely out of the water.
If I’ve learned anything from the ocean world, it’s that those with the hardest shells have the most to fear. And something tells me this guy is going to crack mine wide the hell open.
Tonight I‘m not “smart girl” Louise who weighs every decision over and over until her brain is ready to burst. Tonight, I’m not “responsible girl” Louise who everyone counts on to do the right thing.
Tonight, I am Lou: the girl who does whatever—or whoever—she wants.
James breaks from the kiss and runs the backs of his fingers down my cold cheek. “You’re really not gonna tell me your name?” His whisper sends delicious chills across my skin.
“No, I am not,” I whisper back.
“Alright.” His deep voice vibrates as he rains kisses down the column of my throat. “I guess I’ll keep calling you Cold Brew then.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Oh no?” He tears his lips away.
“Resume what you were doing, please!” I’m giving him mixed signals. “What I meant was I like that.” I point at his mouth, then jut my neck out in his direction. “The uh, that thing you were doing just now to my neck? That was good. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me… Cold Brew.”
He dives into my neck again, and I think we’re back on track until he murmurs this madness between kisses, “That’s too bad. A hot thing like you slowly pouring over me and effortlessly spiking the temps in my refrigerator? A strong, concentrated woman like you who won’t be diluted with water for other people’s comfort? A delectable drink of a girl like you who isn’t afraid of a coarse grind when everyone else is pummeling themselves into soft, palatable powders to please the masses? Cold Brew is the perfect nickname for you.”
What the hell is he talking about?
So he’s weird.
That’s fine.
After tonight, I’ll never see him again.
Looks like I need to take matters into my own hands.
I cup the bulge in his jeans and feel him respond.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
I think.
“You said you don’t mind the cold,” he breathes. “Are you into winter sports then? Skiing, snowshoeing, mountain climbing?”
“Not into winter sports, no.” I desperately work to undo his pants.
“So what are you into?” he rumbles as he helps me with the button.
“You mean sex-wise? The regular stuff. The regular stuff will do.”
He laughs. “Good to know. But I meant what are you into in life? Like hobbies and stuff.”
Alright. Now buddy boy here is starting to test my patience.
“Not really a hobby person. My hobby is my work, and my work is my hobby.”
Score! Jeans are officially down. He kicks them, and they land on top of an icy growler, almost like he choreographed it. You would think a woman getting him pants-less would be enough to curb this guy’s relentless inquisition, but no.
“What’s your work then?”
“Marine biology,” I huff. “Can we—?”
“Oh wow, the ocean and I are like this.” He crosses his index and middle finger in that universal sign of closeness. “I’m a swimmer! A diver too!”
“Cool, cool,” I say and try to get his focus back to the physical. The fact that we have both been in a body of water at some point in our lives does not bind us together in any meaningful way.
“I’ve been told I have the lung capacity of a whale.” He pats his chest. “Yeah, these guys certainly served me well when I free dived in Sri Lanka. Wait. Is it ‘dived’ or ‘dove’? ‘Dived’ always sounds wrong to my ear, but I think that’s actually correct. Doesn’t matter. Point is, I love extreme sports! And speaking of marine biology, get this, once a week I volunteer at—”
“Hey, James!” I shout.
He stops speaking.
Hallelujah!
I soften my voice to a husky tone. “It is James, right?” “James, yeah,” he confirms with a dazzling smile.
I reach into his pants and find him more than ready for me, so I start to stroke.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, James,” I whisper in his ear and shiver when his stubbled cheek brushes against mine. His olive skin smells like ivory soap and shaving cream.
He tightens his strong arms around my back and pulls me closer. I continue my ministrations below.
“Thank you,” he says. “You’re also—”
“And you seem like a nice guy.” I interrupt.
He smiles. “I appreciate that. You seem like a—”
“But I’m not looking for a nice guy.”
“No?”
“No. I’m not looking for any guy.”
He looks down and laughs good-naturedly. “So why are we—?”
“I’m using you.”
His laughter stops.
He removes my hand.
His dark eyes land on mine.
Whoa. When he looks at me like that, I feel completely naked. In fairness, I am practically naked right now, but I mean more in the emotional sense, in the oh-my-God-he-can-see-deep-into-my-soul sense.
He stays completely still and silent, giving no clue as to what he’s thinking or what he’s going to do next.
“I’m not interested in anything beyond what we do here tonight, okay, James?” I continue. “Listen up because this is very important.”
His non-response seems to say, “Go on.”
“After tonight? If you ever run into me again, we pretend this never happened.”
No reaction.
I repeat myself. “We pretend this never happened.”
Still nothing.
Geez. For a guy who couldn’t shut up a few minutes ago, he’s now fully committed to his silence.
“Got it?” I say with more force than necessary, but suddenly, I can’t get myself to look directly at him.
He closes the distance between us, climbs his fingers into my hair, and gives it a tug, gently forcing me to look up at him.
Tingles cascade down my spine.
He tilts his head slightly.
His lips are barely an inch from mine.
His warm breath caresses my skin.
“Then I guess we’ll need to make tonight count, won’t we?”
Now I’m the silent one.
All I can do is nod.
“Let’s do this, Cold Brew.”
*****
Review:
That first meeting between James and Louise really got me – I understood where she was coming from but my heart went out to him and did so over & over again. He’s an honestly good guy and deserves someone who can appreciate him. And while Louise is obviously struggling with a few things, fate keeps throwing them together and it doesn’t take long for James to wiggle his way in making her think that maybe she can be that person.
While I would have liked to have seen more about Louise’s past relationships to truly understand her reluctance to get involved with James, the predicaments they find themselves in along the way more than made up for it. I was amused and engaged and always looking forward to “just one more chapter” so that’s a definite win for me.
This is my first book by Mallon but it won’t be my last. Sharkbait was funny and entertaining, with enjoyable characters and a satisfying HEA.
(Part of a series but can be read as a stand alone.)
*****
Author Info:
Erin Mallon’s debut romantic comedy novel, Flirtasaurus, releases in July 2020. She is an award-winning narrator of over 450 books and an accomplished playwright and producer in New York City. She has written over 40 plays, which have been produced Off-Broadway and all over the country, including These Walls Can Talk, a raucous theatrical love letter to the romance audiobook community. She lives in a little yellow house on the outskirts of NYC with her husband and Three J’s.
Romantic Reads and Such 