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Romantic Reads and Such

Category Archives: Sneak Peek

Spotlight – Backstage Benefits

27 Monday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Backstage Benefits, Devereaux Inc. series, LaQuette

Backstage Benefits

a Devereaux Inc. novel

by LaQuette

on-sale Nov.30

Harlequin Desire

Blurb:

When show business leads to secret pleasures, how can they resist in this Devereaux Inc. novel by LaQuette.

Their daytime partnership sets the night on fire. Who said they canโ€™t have it all?

Lyric Smith didnโ€™t become the nationโ€™s most successful lifestyle guru by losing focus. Yet Josiah Manning, daytime televisionโ€™s hottestโ€”and sexiestโ€”young Black producer makes her do just that. Publicly, Josiah wants Lyric to star in a new talk show. Privately, heโ€™s headlining her sexiest fantasies. But when their explosive chemistry leads to complications instead of contracts, will Lyric find the ultimate partner to help her crush her rivalsโ€ฆor exit stage left alone?

Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/Backstage-Benefits-Devereaux-Inc-2/dp/133573533X/ref=tmm_mmp_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1637071199&sr=8-1ย 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/backstage-benefits-laquette/1139481805?ean=9781335735331

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335735331_backstage-benefits.html

*****

Excerpt:

โ€œAre you okay?โ€

She seemed slightly dazed, and he couldnโ€™t tell if it was because his hand was still lingering on her arm. He was a perfect stranger, and just because he was boys with her play cousin Jeremiah didnโ€™t mean he had a right to touch her or barge his way all up in her mix.

He dragged his hand away. โ€œIโ€™m sorry, I didnโ€™t mean to overstep.โ€

    Josiah let his hungry gaze slide down her body, then brought it back up to meet hers. โ€œIf this is a hot mess,

then I donโ€™t think the world is ready for when you get glammed up. Youโ€™re breathtaking.โ€

She nodded, smiling playfully as her laughter filled the cozy space between them. โ€œYou are a charmer, arenโ€™t you? I bet all the Hollywood starlets fall at your feet when you pay them those kinds of compliments.โ€

He lifted a brow and pursed his lips. โ€œYouโ€™d be wrong. I donโ€™t pay compliments easily. And trust me, thereโ€™s no one in Hollywood that looks like you, so no, Iโ€™m not usually this charming.โ€

He could see the brown of her cheeks burn into a deep mauve as she blushed. โ€œThen thank you,โ€ she responded. โ€œAnd on that flattering note, Iโ€™m gonna call a car and head home.โ€

โ€œCall a car?โ€ His question stopped her mid-turn. โ€œYou didnโ€™t come in your own?โ€

โ€œNo, my cousin Amara and I had business earlier, and I hitched a ride with her. But as the family lawyer, thereโ€™s no way she can leave now.โ€

โ€œThen let me take you home.โ€

Her cute smile as she dipped her gaze and blushed again tore down all his defenses. As a producer, he was around beautiful women all the time. But none of them disarmed him the way Lyric did.

โ€œIs โ€˜take me homeโ€™ just an offer of transportation or a euphemism for sleeping with me?โ€

Pump your brakes, man.

He wasnโ€™t thinking with his head at the moment, so he simply said, โ€œWhichever you want it to be.โ€

He braced himself for the slap he knew he deserved. But it never came. Instead, she stepped closer to him, filling his senses with the light fragrance of citrus and coconut she wore.

โ€œTake me home, and Iโ€™ll use the duration of the trip to decide.โ€

Well, Iโ€™ll be damned.

*****

Author Info:

An activist for DEIA in the romance industry, LaQuette writes bold stories featuring multicultural characters. Her writing style brings intellect to the drama. She crafts emotionally epic tales that are deeply pigmented by reality’s paintbrush. This Brooklyn native’s novels are a unique mix of savvy, sarcastic, brazen, & unapologetically sexy characters who are confident in their right to appear on the page. Find her at LaQuette.com & at LaQuette@LaQuette.com.

*****

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Spotlight – Christmas at the Chateau

23 Thursday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Bainbridge House series, Christmas at the Chateau, Rochelle Alers

Christmas at the Chateau

Bainbridge House series

by Rochelle Alers

on-sale Nov.30

Harlequin Special Edition

Blurb:

The halls are decked for holiday romance in nationally bestselling author Rochelle Alers’s latest book in the Bainbridge House series!

Christmas dinnerโ€™s on the table, and it’s being served with a side of romance!

Executive chef Viola Williamson has to have the kitchen up and running by the time the Bainbridge House restoration is complete. Working closely with Dom Shaw, Viola is struck by her hotter-than-mulled-cider attraction to her family estateโ€™s handsome caretaker. Itโ€™s obvious that he feels it, tooโ€”yet Dom keeps his distance. Can Viola convince him that with all this cooking going on, heโ€™s the only one stirring her heart?

Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/Christmas-Ch%C3%A2teau-Bainbridge-House-Book-ebook/dp/B092R4XS7X/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=CHRISTMAS+AT+THE+CHATEAU+by+Rochelle+Alers&qid=1637072828&sr=8-1ย 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-at-the-ch-teau-rochelle-alers/1139717185?ean=9781335408259

Harlequin: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335408259_christmas-at-the-chteau.htmlย 

*****

Excerpt:

Dom turned his head, successfully hiding the smile struggling to emerge. He didnโ€™t know why, but he hadnโ€™t expected to overhear the ribald curse that had flowed so effortlessly from Viola. โ€œThatโ€™s good to know because that would definitely negate us becoming friends.โ€

Viola narrowed her eyes, reminding him of a cat ready to attack. โ€œDo you always test your friends?โ€

โ€œMost times I do.โ€

โ€œWhy, Dom?โ€

โ€œBecause I have trust issues.โ€ The admission had come out unbidden. But if he were completely forthcoming with Viola, then he wouldโ€™ve said his distrust was with women. It didnโ€™t matter whether they were platonic or intimate, heโ€™d made it a practice to keep their relationships at a distance.

โ€œBad breakup with a girlfriend?โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ he said truthfully. โ€œIt was a marriage that ended with irreconcilable differences.โ€

She blinked slowly. โ€œWell, youโ€™re not the only one with trust issues. And mine are not with an ex-husband but with the men Iโ€™ve dated. They say one thing and do something entirely different.โ€

This time Dom did smile. Sheโ€™d just given him the opening heโ€™d needed to discover more about her. โ€œAre you saying youโ€™re not currently involved with anyone?โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s exactly what Iโ€™m saying. Iโ€™m not involved and donโ€™t want to become involved. Right now, my sole focus is getting these kitchens renovated so that I can be ready once the hotel opens for business.โ€

It appeared as if they were on the same page when it came to relationships. Neither wanted one. And for him, it would make her presence on the property a win-win. Although heโ€™d found Viola attractive, just knowing she didnโ€™t want anything more than friendship would make it easy for Dom to relate to her as a friend.

โ€œDo you have an idea as to what you want to offer your guests?โ€ he asked, deftly changing the topic of conversation.

โ€œThat all depends on the clientele. If itโ€™s a wedding, then that would be at the discretion of the bride and groom. However, for guests coming for a business conference, the food would be different from what would be served at a wedding reception. Then there are folks that may just want to stop by to hang out at the lounge for drinks and to watch sports. For them, I would have a special bar menu.โ€

โ€œIt sounds as if you have everything planned out in advance.โ€

Viola flashed a dreamy smile. โ€œI would have to. I canโ€™t afford to wait until weโ€™re ready to open for business to begin creating menus without taste testing every item beforehand.โ€

Dom grinned from ear to ear. โ€œI wouldnโ€™t mind becoming one of your taste testers.โ€

She laughed. โ€œIโ€™ll definitely keep that in mind.โ€

Dom sobered. โ€œWhen do you intend to come back here again?โ€

Viola also sobered. โ€œWhy?โ€

*****

Author Info:

Hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most popular African-American authors of women’s fiction, Ms. Alers is a regular on bestsellers list, and has been a recipient of numerous awards, including the Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing and a Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award.ย  Visit her Web site www.rochellealers.com

*****

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Spotlight – Christmas Vendetta

22 Wednesday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Christmas Vendetta, Valerie Hansen

Christmas Vendetta

by Valerie Hansen

on-sale Nov.30

Love Inspired Suspense

Blurb:

Is she a mistaken targetโ€ฆor next on an enemyโ€™s hit list?

Sandy Lynn Forrester’s Christmas holiday takes a terrifying turn when someone breaks into her home and attacks her roommateโ€ฆthinking it’s her. But no one believes that an imprisoned man from Sandy Lynn’s past is behind the attacksโ€”except for her high school heartbreak, ex-cop Clay Danforth. Can she trust Clay to keep her safe in the Ozark wilderness long enough to stop a ruthless criminalโ€™s vengeance?

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Vendetta-Emergency-Responders-Book-ebook/dp/B094R72GQG/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=CHRISTMAS+VENDETTA+by+Valerie+Hansen&qid=1637072527&qsid=133-7575147-1798556&sr=8-1&sres=133555470X 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/christmas-vendetta-valerie-hansen/1139453329?ean=9781335554703ย 

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335722782_christmas-vendetta.html

*****

Excerpt:

The lack of explanation from Clay caused her to glance over at him. Instead of paying attention to her, he was frowning and looking in the car mirrors.

Sandy Lynn whipped around as far as her seat belt would allow. Since the snow had stopped, more people had ventured outside, evidently to take advantage of the respite. The street was crowded. โ€œWhat? What do you see?โ€

โ€œProbably nothing.โ€

โ€œOkay,โ€ she drawled, โ€œthen why are you making scary faces?โ€

โ€œIโ€™m not.โ€ Clay flashed her a lopsided smile. โ€œThis is my normal face.โ€

โ€œMaybe itโ€™s the black-and-blue eye socket that makes you look odd,โ€ she said, not believing that excuse for an instant.

Again he stayed silent. She felt the car begin to accelerate. The tires slipped in the slushy street, and they fishtailed several times before Clay got it under control.

โ€œOkay. That does it. What is going on?โ€

โ€œWeโ€™re being followed,โ€ Clay said as he sped up, sliding again and again. โ€œIโ€™m heading for the police station.โ€

โ€œFinally, something that makes sense.โ€ Bracing with her left hand on the dash, her right gripping the over-the-door assist handle, Sandy Lynn did her best to anchor herself on the seat.

Clay turned corner after corner until she was unsure of their position. โ€œI thought you saidโ€”โ€

A hard smack jolted her car and snapped her head back against the support at the top of the seat. She wanted to shout orders at him, to tell him how to get them out of this situation, but truth to tell, she didnโ€™t have a clue.

Prayer would be good, she reasoned, if she had the words to pray or knew what to ask for.

Survival leaped into her thoughts as she called out wordlessly to her heavenly Father.

The car was hit again. Clay righted it.

A harder smash followed quickly.

Clay hollered, โ€œHang on!โ€

They went airborne, diving nose-first into a drainage ditch.

Sandy Lynn saw his head snap forward just as the airbag engulfed him. The passenger side of the dated vehicle was not equipped with crash protection, so the seat belt was the only thing keeping her from flying through the shattering windshield.

Breathless and shocked, she just sat there, wondering if this was as bad as it was going to get or if their pursuers were going to stop to finish them off.

*****

Author Info:

Valerie Hansen resides in the rural Ozarks where she writes the books of her heart, primarily for Love Inspired Romance and Suspense. She is married to her childhood sweetheart and has worked as a teacher’s-aide, EMT, fire dept. dispatcher, dog breeder, commercial artist, dulcimer builder, Veterinarian’s asst., 4-H leader, Sunday School teacher, antique restorer and certified Storm Spotter, etc. See ValerieHansen.com for more!

*****

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Spotlight – Snowbound with Her Mountain Cowboy

21 Tuesday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Patricia Johns, Snowbound with Her Mountain Cowboy

Snowbound with Her Mountain Cowboy

by Patricia Johns

on-sale Nov.30

Harlequin Heartwarming

Blurb:

A lost memory could mean a second chance!

Mountain resort owner Angelina Cunningham has her hands full with a massive winter storm. Which is exactly when her ex-husband arrives, injured and suffering temporary amnesia. Ben King has always been her weakness. Though he doesnโ€™t remember her, heโ€™s still as charming and sweet as ever, and Angelina is falling for him all over again. But can their rekindled love outlast the storm and the return of their past mistakes?

Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/Snowbound-Mountain-Cowboy-Patricia-Johns/dp/1335426507/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=SNOWBOUND+WITH+HER+MOUNTAIN+COWBOY+by+Patricia+Johns&qid=1637073870&sr=8-1ย 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/snowbound-with-her-mountain-cowboy-patricia-johns/1139136603?ean=9780369714497

Harlequin.com:ย  https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335426505_snowbound-with-her-mountain-cowboy.html

*****

Excerpt:

โ€œAngelina,โ€ he said. โ€œI sense there are some hard feelings between us. I mean, I donโ€™t remember it, but you seemโ€ฆuncomfortable with me.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s fine,โ€ she said with a shake of her head.

โ€œWhat did I do?โ€ he asked. โ€œBecause Iโ€™m looking at you, and I see a beautiful, successful woman Iโ€™d be proud to be with. Soโ€ฆwhat happened with us?โ€

Her green gaze flicked over to meet his. โ€œYour family happened.โ€

What had his father said? And perhaps expect some jealousy toward our family.

โ€œWhat did they do?โ€ he asked.

โ€œThey hated me.โ€ She said it so matter-of-factly, with no emotion behind it.

โ€œI find that hard to believeโ€ฆโ€ He smiled, hoping that sheโ€™d soften her stance there. โ€œFor what?โ€

โ€œFor being beneath the quality standard they set for you,โ€ she said. โ€œThey wanted you to marry someone who came from a family equally well situated. Iโ€™m just a regular woman.โ€

โ€œNot so regularโ€ฆโ€

Sheโ€™d achieved an awful lot to consider herself ordinary. And look at her! She drew every eye in a room.

โ€œYouโ€™d be surprised.โ€ She didnโ€™t return his smile, and her gaze didnโ€™t waver. This wasnโ€™t a joke. He was inclined to believe her.

โ€œSo my family hated you, and we broke up?โ€ he asked hesitantly.

โ€œI got tired of trying to prove myself,โ€ she said. โ€œAnd I think you got tired of fighting for us. A manโ€™s family is a part of him, Ben. Remember them or not, they formed you. They raised you. Their DNA flows through you. And I wasnโ€™t acceptable.โ€

Ben felt her words spinning through his mind like that blinding snow outside. His family had been the cause of their divorce? Was that why his father had given him that warningโ€”he saw Angelina as a threat?

โ€œWhy did I come here?โ€ he asked.

Angelina shook her head. โ€œI have no idea.โ€

โ€œWe didnโ€™t have plans toโ€ฆtalk?โ€ he asked. โ€œBecause I donโ€™t know why else Iโ€™d be driving this way. Do I know anyone else here or have any business to take care of?โ€

Angelina shrugged. โ€œI wouldnโ€™t know. Iโ€™m not a part of your life.โ€

โ€œBut you said we talked sometimes,โ€ he said.

โ€œWe did,โ€ she said.

โ€œMaybe I wanted to talk again. You said we broke up? Maybe that was weighing on me.โ€

โ€œMaybe.โ€ She met his gaze. โ€œI wouldnโ€™t know, would I?โ€ She was silent for a moment. โ€œWe always have held on to some feelings for each other. I wonโ€™t deny that. I think you regretted how things ended with us. But we arenโ€™t friends. You canโ€™t feel the way we did for each other, go through that kind of heartbreak and be friends afterward. It doesnโ€™t work.โ€

No, he could see that. Knowing next to nothing about her, heโ€™d felt drawn to this woman. And even now, knowing that nothing had worked between them, he still found himself wanting to keep her close.

โ€œBut I came here,โ€ he said. โ€œWith a storm 

at my back, no less. That has to mean something. I feel absolutely certain that I was trying to reachโ€ฆthis place.โ€

As she looked at him, he could see that her resistance was up. She didnโ€™t have his answers, and maybe he was asking too much of her to expect her to know why heโ€™d come out here.

โ€œDo you want me to have your clothes laundered tonight, or do you want to have them dry-cleaned?โ€ she asked.

Right. She was backing away from the personal.

โ€œIโ€”โ€ He shook his head. โ€œI have no idea. Letโ€™s try and wash them, I guess.โ€

She smiled faintly. โ€œYou were particular about your shirts. I should warn you.โ€

He thought about it for a moment. โ€œIโ€™m not right now. I wouldnโ€™t mind having my own clothes back. Letโ€™s see how it goes.โ€

โ€œAll right.โ€ She turned toward the door.

He wanted to stop her, ask her more questions, convince her to stay awhile, but he could sense that wouldnโ€™t be appropriate. Whatever theyโ€™d been, it was well in the past.

โ€œGood night,โ€ he called after her.

โ€œGood night, Ben.โ€ Her voice was soft, cutting off when the door shut behind her.

*****
Author Info:

Patricia Johns writes from Alberta, Canada where she lives with her husband and son. She has her Honors BA in English Literature and writes for both Harlequin and Kensington books. She loves prairie skies and time with her family.

*****

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Spotlight – Opening His Holiday Heart

20 Monday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Opening His Holiday Heart, Renee Ryan

Opening His Holiday Heart

by Renee Ryan

on-sale Nov.30

Love Inspired

Blurb:

With a little boyโ€™s help, can he let go of painful memories?

Casey Evans wants no part in the holidays, which is a major problem for Mayor Sutton Wentworth. Sutton has her heart set on their town winning a national Christmas contest, and Caseyโ€™s refusal to decorate his coffee shop could ruin everything. Thankfully, her precious son has worked his charms on Casey. But can one little boyโ€”and his motherโ€”change the mind of the local grinch?

Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/Opening-His-Holiday-Heart-Inspirational-ebook/dp/B095M3R8XQ/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=OPENING+HIS+HOLIDAY+HEART+by+Renee+Ryan&qid=1637073717&sr=8-1ย 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/opening-his-holiday-heart-renee-ryan/1139540765?ean=9781335758958

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335758958_opening-his-holiday-heart.html

*****

Excerpt:

โ€œYou didnโ€™t have to offer to help Toby. I would have figured something out. Somehow, I would have–โ€

โ€œI know, Sutton. You always figure something out. Itโ€™s what you do.โ€ The words sounded more like a criticism than a compliment.

She tried not to flinch. โ€œStill,โ€ she persisted, โ€œIโ€™m grateful and I owe you.โ€

They were nearly the same words sheโ€™d said to her father barely an hour ago. By the look on Caseyโ€™s face, they didnโ€™t sit any better with him than they had with Beau Fowler.

In fact, Casey just stood there, his face going blank. โ€œYou donโ€™t owe me anything, Sutton. Got it?โ€ He leaned in a little closer, held her stare a beat too long. โ€œNot one single solitary thing.โ€

Sheโ€™d insulted him. She heard it in his voice. Saw it in the way his shoulders tensed up. โ€œI didnโ€™t mean to implyโ€”โ€

โ€œSure you did. Although, Iโ€™m not surprised.โ€ He set his jaw and pulled back from her. โ€œYou arenโ€™t exactly gifted at accepting help from others.โ€

Now heโ€™d insulted her. โ€œLook, Casey. If you want to back out, do it now, while I have time to find someone elseโ€”โ€

He let out a stab of laughter. โ€œOh no. Uh-uh. Donโ€™t throw your doubts back on me.โ€

โ€œI wasnโ€™t. I was simply saying thereโ€™s still time to change your mind.โ€

โ€œLetโ€™s get a few things straight, shall we? First, I never offer to do anything I donโ€™t want to do. Second, I made a promise to a little boy and I never back out on a promise. Not. Ever. My word is solid. Golden. Unaffected by time, distance or a change in circumstances.โ€

Sutton sensed they werenโ€™t talking about Toby or the Soap Box Derby anymore. Caseyโ€™s tone was too fierce, his expression too intense, his words too pointed. She thought about asking him to clarify, but he was still talking.

โ€œAnd finally, I like Toby. Heโ€™s a great kid. I also like building cars. Iโ€™m good at it. Your son and I are going to have a lot of fun. Itโ€™s really that simple, Sutton. Donโ€™t make this more complicated than it needs to be.โ€

He was right. About all of it. She was overthinking the situation. A character trait that had served her well as an attorney. But in this instance, sheโ€™d gone too far and now she felt ridiculous and defensive. Should she apologize? Maybe lighten the mood?

Definitely the latter. โ€œWell, I guess you told me.โ€

โ€œI guess I did.โ€ He cracked a smile, the boyish one that included the infamous head tilt, and just like that the tension between them was replaced by something far more potent. โ€œSo?โ€ he asked, eyebrows lifted. โ€œAre we heading inside now?โ€

โ€œWe are.โ€

He opened the door. She followed him into a gorgeous foyer, unable to keep the awe off her face.

*****

Author Info:

Renee Ryan grew up in a Florida beach town outside Jacksonville, FL.ย  Armed with a degree in Economics and Religion from Florida State University, she explored various career opportunities, including stints at a Florida theme park and a modeling agency. She currently lives in Savannah, Georgia with her husband and a large, fluffy cat many have mistaken for a small bear.ย  Renee can be contacted through her website at http://www.reneeryan.com

*****

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Spotlight – Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch

17 Friday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Gold Valley series, Maisey Yates, Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch

Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch

A Gold Valley Novel

by Maisey Yates

ISBN: 9781335959171

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: HQN Books

Blurb:

Gold Valleyโ€™s rodeo champion is facing the toughest challenge of his life โ€“ a Christmas wedding!

Legendary bull-rider Jake Daniels has only one plan this holiday season โ€“ to ignore the pain it always brings. Until his best friend Callie Carson shows up on his ranch with a marriage proposal! Jake has lived so close to the edge itโ€™s a miracle heโ€™s still alive โ€“ he knows all about risk. But marrying the woman he craves more than anything feels like the biggest risk of all.

Callie Carson might be rodeo royalty, but to fulfil her dreams of riding saddle bronc, she needs her inheritance. And to access that, she needs a husband. But Jake the husband is deliciously different from Jake the friend, especially after the wild heat of their wedding night! He was only supposed to be her cowboy for Christmas, but Jakeโ€™s every heart-stopping touch has Callie questioning how sheโ€™ll ever be able to walk awayโ€ฆ

BookShop.org

Harlequin 

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powellโ€™s

*****

Excerpt:

Chapter One

JAKE DANIELS HAD grown up knowing that life was short. When he was in high school, heโ€™d lost his parents, and along with them, the sense that anything in this world was guaranteed.

That kind of thing changed a man.

It could make him afraid of his own shadow, worried about taking risks and filled with a sense of self-preservation.

It was either that, or he realized since there were no guarantees, he might as well go all in. Push those chips out to the center of the table and see if the gamble paid off.

Heโ€™d done some admittedly dumb stuff as a kid. Not gambling so much as acting out. But the rodeo had changed him. It had saved him.

Heโ€™d spent the last eighteen years gambling and doing pretty damn well for himself, it had to be said. Years spent in the rodeo, flinging himself around on the back of enraged bulls, had netted him a decent amount of money, and now that he was more or less ready to get out of the game, those winnings, and the amount of money his parentsโ€™ life insurance had left behind, had gotten him a big spread in Gold Valley.

He was going to be a rancher.

Not cattle, like his cousin Ryder. No. He was getting into horses. High-value breeds. Another gamble. It would either pay off, or ruin him.

That was the kind of life he liked. That was the kind of thing that made him feel alive.

And if this was retirement, hell, he was pretty damn into it. Thirty-two years old, and wealthy enough to figure out a way to live his dream. Not bad at all.

Of course, there were things he would miss about the rodeo. The people on the circuit were practically family now. So many years traveling around the same venues, getting busted up together, competing fiercely and going out for a beer after.

But it had been time to leave, and all it had taken was one fierce accident to teach him that.

And Gold Valley was his home, so this had been the place to go to when his time in the rodeo was done.

The day his parents had died, his aunt and uncle had also died, along with the mother of one of his closest friends. That had left a passel of orphaned children, a big old ranch that had once been run by their parents and a whole lot of chaos.

But it had been a good life. Other than all the crushingly sad parts.

His cousin Ryder had taken care of all of them, since he was the only one whoโ€™d been eighteen when the tragedy had happened.

He often wondered how theyโ€™d made it through without Ryder punching them all in the damn face.

He was sure that Ryder had wanted to from time to time.

Hell. Jake and Colt had been absolute assholes. Neither of them had handled losing their parents well. Well, was there a good way to handle that? He didnโ€™t know. But at seventeen and fifteen, he and his brother had been mad at the world, and kicking against the one person who had been doing his best to help them.

Theyโ€™d both left home and joined the rodeo, the Western take on running away and joining the circus.

It had taken some years and some maturity for him to fully appreciate what heโ€™d had.

Because what Ryder had given to them had been bound up in his loss, and until heโ€™d been in his midtwenties probably, he hadnโ€™t fully been able to separate those two things and think of home, and his cousin, without a measure of pain and anger.

Even now, when he pulled into Hope Springs Ranch, a strange sensation took hold of him.

Nostalgia, grief and home, all rolled into one.

Heโ€™d been contending with it a lot lately, because hisโ€”for lack of a better wordโ€”retirement was still fairly new, and being in one place and not on the road was unusual for him.

But that was a choice heโ€™d made, and one that was taking a bit of time for him to settle into. It had been just over three months, and it still felt…wrong in some ways.

It was easier to pretend that all your demons were dealt with when you just spent a good portion of the time running from them. Made things simple. At least as simple as they could be.

The problem was his demons had done a decent job of catching up to him on the circuit, and that was when heโ€™d decided it was time to move on.

When Cal had fallen…

How could he live with something happening to his mentee? Cal was his best friend and with his guidance had gotten hurt.

No, that had brought him back to a dark, raw place. One he didnโ€™t want to visit again.

That calm before the storm. That bright ray of sunshine revealed to be the headlights of a Mack truck bearing down on him.

Heโ€™d read that poem that said nothing gold could stay.

In his experience, it turned out gold was fleeting. And revealed to be foolโ€™s gold on top of it.

Good never lasted.

And it was rarely real, anyway.

Heโ€™d been… Well, he hadnโ€™t been thrilled about Cal wanting to come for Thanksgiving, but he felt responsible for the accident so in the end he hadnโ€™t been able to say no.

He pulled his truck up to the front of the farmhouse, and the door opened, three dogs spilling out the front and down the front steps.

โ€œBack, mutts,โ€ he muttered when he got out of the truck, smiling affectionately at the creatures as he bent down and scratched them behind the ears.

He looked up and saw Sammy standing on the top step of the porch, her baby on her hip. Sammy was married to his cousin Ryder now, but she was another member of their ragtag family. She hadnโ€™t lost her parents, but her situation at home, as he understood it, had been unacceptable, and when she was sixteen sheโ€™d come to live with them. Sheโ€™d never left, and she and Ryder had gotten married a year earlier.

Finally, in his opinion.

The two of them had spent way too long dancing around the truth. Not that he could blame them. Nothing in his life had ever made marriage look particularly appealing. His parents…

His parents had been unhappy, slaves to a ranch and their children, to marriage vows theyโ€™d said to each other and had always seemed like they might regret.

For just a moment it had seemed like it might all be fixed. For just a moment it had seemed like theyโ€™d be okay.

Then it had all been destroyed.

That bright spot of hope swallowed by reality.

After years of unhappiness, his parents had just died.

Jake couldnโ€™t imagine that kind of life.

โ€œHow you doing?โ€ he asked.

Sammy shifted the baby from one hip to the other, the little girl reaching out and grabbing her momโ€™s blond hair. Sammy laughed and unwrapped the chubby fist from her curls. She looked happier than heโ€™d ever seen her before.

He supposed for some people there was something to be said for this life.

God knew Ryder seemed happier.

But then, it was impossible for Ryder to seem more grim. Jake felt pretty guilty about that with the benefit of age and wisdom.

โ€œGreat,โ€ Sammy said. โ€œWeโ€™ve been seeing so much of you lately. I feel spoiled.โ€

โ€œWell, thatโ€™s good, because it wonโ€™t take long for you to just feel sick of me.โ€

โ€œNever,โ€ Sammy said, coming down the steps and offering him a hug.

Sammy was like that. Effortless, easy affection with people around her.

He admired it, but heโ€™d never much understood it. There was only one kind of touch he was free with. Sex was simple. And being a champion in the world of rodeo meant there was no shortage of buckle bunnies lining up to see if the rumors were true. His bull rides lasted eight seconds, and a ride in his bed lasted the whole night.

He took a lot of pride in the fact that he had staying power. That he gave a damn for the pleasure of the women who passed through his hotel rooms.

But that was as deep as he got.

โ€œCome on in,โ€ Sammy said. โ€œLogan and Rose are already here. Iris and Griffin are on their way.โ€

It was strange to him that everybody had paired off now. Everybody except for himself, and his brother, Colt, who would rather take a stick between the eyes than settle down.

Jake was confident that would be his brotherโ€™s stance.

His brother was still going out hard in the rodeo. As far as Jake knew he wasnโ€™t even interested in coming back to town and settling down the way Jake was, let alone getting married.

He walked into the living room, and noticed all the little changes.

Since Ryder and Sammy had gotten married, the place, which had actually been basically the same in all the years since their parents had died, had gotten a bit of a facelift.

Sammy had added a whole lot of real grown-up touches to it. Pretty things.

It was weird. Weirder that he cared.

Ryder came through from the kitchen and offered a greeting. โ€œGood to see you.โ€

โ€œYou, too. Hey, Sammy,โ€ Jake said. โ€œWould it be all right if my buddy Cal came for Thanksgiving?โ€

โ€œSure,โ€ Sammy said. โ€œThe more, the merrier.โ€

He was glad Sammy was thrilled. He was less thrilled. But there were a spare few things on Godโ€™s earth he saw as sacred. His friendship with Cal was one of them.

The accident might have been a catalyst for Jake deciding to leave the rodeo, but it was just damned cowardly to then deny his friendโ€™s request to come visit. Why? Because he felt guilty about the fall?

Hell, yeah, he did.

But that didnโ€™t mean he had to be happy about the visit. Though even just being away and out of the game, knowing he was just out of it now for good… There were things he missed. He was looking forward to having a few beers and talking about old times.

โ€œGood,โ€ Jake said.

Eventually, Iris and her new husband arrived, followed by Pansy and her husband, West, and Westโ€™s teenage brother, Emmett. West and Pansy had taken over the raising of the kid, since Westโ€™s mother wasnโ€™t hugely into the maternal thing. Putting it mildly.

And while everything with his family was goodโ€”it always wasโ€”there was an indefinable feeling of…change.

Right. Well, you havenโ€™t been here very much, so you donโ€™t have the right to have an opinion about how things have changed.

That thought galled him a little bit.

And it was true enough. Heโ€™d been gone, seen to his own affairs all this time, and something that had given him a small measure of comfort was the fact that he could come home at any time and things would be roughly the way that he left them. But not so much anymore.

There were new people. New plates. The house was fuller than it had ever been, but that made it a little bit unrecognizable, too.

It was a whole damn thing.

He finished eating, and hung out for a while.

Then he bid everybody farewell, got in his truck and started on the road back to his ranch.

Settling in Gold Valley.

There was a time when heโ€™d been sure heโ€™d never do that. And as he drove down the familiar highway he had a strange sense of…dread.

He hated that.

He chased dread. The kind of fear that held other people down, he pursued it. Heโ€™d spent years riding bulls because heโ€™d figured why not give fate the biggest middle finger of all.

It was the quiet moments that seemed to bring the fear. The still moments. The golden hour, when the sun lit up the world around him and everything looked new. And there would be a moment. A breath. Where peace rested in his soul.

And right on its heels came the hounds of hell.

The arena had stopped it. The pounding of hooves, the danger.

It was just that it had followed him to the arena now so heโ€™d figured heโ€™d take his chances here.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

Too late now.

He drove through town, trying to get a look at how it might seem if he were an outsider. If he was someone who hadnโ€™t grown up here. The brick facades were the kind of thing tourists lost their shit over. But he lost the ability to see them a long time ago.

For him… For him, Gold Valley had just represented everything he lost.

Heโ€™d been running when heโ€™d left.

Heโ€™d run for a long time. And heโ€™d achieved a hell of a lot.

But whatever he thought heโ€™d feel when he got here… He didnโ€™t.

And so he was trying to see everything with new eyes, like he was a new man, because he felt just so damned much like the old one. And he wasnโ€™t the biggest fan.

Hope Springs always put him in this kind of mood.

So he shrugged it off and started mentally going over the timeline that he had in place for getting his ranch going. His first five horses were coming at the new year.

It was a new challenge. And it reinvigorated him. That was the problem. The rodeo had gotten stale. Heโ€™d won everything twice. You didnโ€™t get better than that. Heโ€™d done it twice in a row, and he didnโ€™t want to get to the point where he wasnโ€™t winning anymore.

Heโ€™d peaked. Basically.

So now he had to go find somewhere else to do that.

That was something, anyway.

It was one reason heโ€™d backed his cousin Iris when she had decided to open her bakery.

He knew all about needing a change.

Maybe that meant he actually was still running.

None of it mattered now, though.

He hadnโ€™t had enough to drink tonight because heโ€™d needed to get his ass home, but he was going to open some whiskey the minute he got in the door.

The place was out about ten miles from town, a nice flat parcel of property with the mountains behind it. The house itself was a big, white farmhouse with a green metal roof. Different to the rustic place at Hope Springs, but he liked it. The driveway was gravel, long and winding, with tall, dense trees on either side of the road.

But when he came through the trees into the clearing where the house was, there was a surprise waiting for him in front of the house.

An old, beat-up pickup was parked there, and he could see a lone figure leaning up against the hood. He parked the truck and got out, making his way over to the figure.

In the darkness, he couldnโ€™t quite make it out, but he had a feeling he knew who it was. Early and unannounced.

Entirely in keeping with what he knew of his friend.

โ€œCal?โ€

And two wide, brown eyes looked up at him from beneath the brim of a white cowboy hat, long, glossy brown hair shifting with the motion. โ€œJake. Iโ€™m really glad to see you. Because… I donโ€™t just need a job. I need a husband.โ€

Excerpted from Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch by Maisey Yates,
Copyright ยฉ 2021 by Maisey Yates.
Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

*****

Author Info:

Maisey Yates is a New York Times bestselling author of over one hundred romance novels. Whether she’s writing strong, hard working cowboys, dissolute princes or multigenerational family stories, she loves getting lost in fictional worlds. An avid knitter with a dangerous yarn addiction and an aversion to housework, Maisey lives with her husband and three kids in rural Oregon.

Author Website

Facebook: @MaiseyYates.Author

Instagram: @maiseyyates

Twitter: @maiseyyates

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*****

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Spotlight – Sleight Bells Ring

16 Thursday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Raeanne Thayne, Sleigh Bells Ring

Sleigh Bells Ring

by RaeAnne Thayne

ISBN: 9781335522443

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: HQN Books

Blurb:

None of the Sheridan family members has visited the gorgeous Angel’s View Ranch in the entire thirty months Annie McCade has been the caretaker of the property, and she has no reason to believe this holiday season will be any different. After all, why would they visit? Annie knows Wallace Sheridan, the family patriarch who hired her, loved it here but no one else in the family did. They couldn’t face their dark memories of the place. Annie certainly understands their pain–when, as a child, she lived on the ranch, she saw a young and frantic Tate Sheridan come galloping out of the mountains,, looking for help for his severely injured father, who would later die from massive injuries. Since then,with the exception of Wallace, the whole remaining family couldn’t get away fast enough.

And actually, Annie is grateful to have the place to herself–her ne’er-do-well brother got himself thrown in jail over the holidays, and she took temporary custody of her little niece and nephew for Christmas. Until Tate shows up and she unexpectedly hits him square in the face with a snowball! She worries that she is about to get fired, but Tate, after confronting the ghosts of his past, realizes he wants Annie to stay. His big family and their entourage are arriving the next day, and he can’t manage them–and the big, echoing ranch house–without her.

So Tate has a brilliant idea. He tells her she and the kids can stay, through the holidays at least–if she agrees to pretend to be his long-lost love, to keep his busybody matchmaking grandmother off his back.

Annie is at first outraged by the suggestions and then intrigued. How hard could it be to pretend she and Tate have fallen for each other? He’s gorgeous, after all–and some part of her heart had never forgotten their long-ago friendship. The trick, she realizes, will be convincing her heart during the magical holiday season that it’s only make believe.

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*****

Excerpt:

1

THIS WAS WAR. A RELENTLESS, MERCILESS BATTLE for survival.

Backed into a corner and taking fire from multiple fronts, Annelise McCade launched missiles as fast as she could manage against her enemies. She was outnumbered. They had teamed up to attack her with agile cunning and skill.

At least it was a nice day for battle. The snow the night before hadnโ€™t been particularly substantial but it had still left everything white and sparkly and the massive ranch house behind her was solid and comforting in the December afternoon sunlight. 

A projectile hit her square in the face, an icy splat against her skin that had her gasping. 

At her instinctive reaction, giggles rang out across the snowy expanse. She barely took time to wipe the cold muck off her cheek. โ€œNo fair, aiming for the face,โ€ she called back. โ€œThatโ€™s against the rules.โ€

โ€œIt was an accident,โ€ her six-year-old nephew, Henry, admitted. โ€œI didnโ€™t mean to hit your face.โ€ 

โ€œYouโ€™ll pay for that one.โ€ She scooped up several more balls as fast as she could manage and hurled them across the battlefield at Henry and his twin sister, Alice. 

โ€œDo you give up?โ€ she called. 

โ€œNever!โ€

Henry followed up his defiance by throwing a snowball back at her. His aim wasnโ€™t exactly accurateโ€”hence her still-dripping faceโ€”but it still hit her shoulder and made her wince. 

โ€œNever!โ€ his twin sister, Alice, cried out. She had some difficulty pronouncing her Rs, so her declaration sounded like โ€œNevoh.โ€ 

Alice threw with such force the effort almost made her spin around like a discus thrower in the Olympics. 

It was so good to hear them laughing. In the week since they had come to live with her temporarily, Annie had witnessed very little of this childish glee. 

Not for the first time, she cursed her brother and the temper he had inherited from their father and grandfather. If not for that temper, compounded by the heavy drinking that had taken over his life since his wifeโ€™s death a year ago, Wes would be here with the twins right now, throwing snowballs in the cold sunshine. 

Grief for all that these children had lost was like a tiny shard of ice permanently lodged against her heart. But at least they could put their pain aside for a few moments to have fun outside on a snowy December day. 

She might not be the perfect temporary guardian but it had been a good idea to make them come outside after homework for a little exercise and fresh air. 

She was doing her best, though she was wholly aware that she was only treading water. 

For now, this moment, she decided she would focus on gratitude. The children were healthy, they all had a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs and their father should be back home with them in less than a month. 

Things could be much, much worse. 

โ€œTime out,โ€ Henry gasped out during a lull in the pitched battle. โ€œWe gotta make more snowballs.โ€ 

โ€œDeal. Five-minute break, starting now.โ€ 

Annie pulled her glove off long enough to set the timer on her smartwatch, then ducked behind the large landscape boulder she was using as cover and scooped up several snowballs to add to her stash. 

The sun would be going down in another hour and already the temperature had cooled several degrees. The air smelled like impending snow, though she knew only a dusting was forecast, at least until the following weekend. 

She didnโ€™t worry. Holly Creek, Wyoming, about an hour south of Jackson Hole in the beautiful Star Valley, almost always had a white Christmas. 

Annieโ€™s phone timer went off just as she finished a perfectly formed snowball. โ€œOkay. Timeโ€™s up,โ€ she called. Without standing up, she launched a snowball to where she knew the twins would be. 

An instant later, she heard a deep grunt that definitely did not sound like Henry or Alice. 

Annie winced. Levi Moran, the ranch manager, or his grizzled old ranch hand, Bill Shaw, must have wandered across the battlefield in the middle of a ceasefire without knowing he was about to get blasted. 

โ€œSorry,โ€ she called, rising to her feet. โ€œI didnโ€™t mean to do that.โ€ 

She saw a male figure approach, wearing sunglasses. The sun reflecting off the new snow was hitting his face and she couldnโ€™t instantly identify him. 

โ€œNo doubt,โ€ he said, wiping snow off his face with his sleeve. She frowned. This was definitely not Levi or Bill. 

He stepped closer and Annie felt as if an entire avalanche of snow had just crumbled away from the mountain and buried her. 

She knew this man, though it had been nearly two decades since Annie had seen him in person. 

It couldnโ€™t be anyone else. 

Dark hair, lean, gorgeous features. Beneath those sunglasses, she knew she would find blue eyes the color of Bear Lake in summertime. 

The unsuspecting man she had just pummeled with a completely unprovoked snowball attack had to be Tate Sheridan. 

Her de facto boss. 

The twins had fallen uncharacteristically silent, wary of a tall, unsmiling stranger. Henry, she saw, had moved closer to his twin sister and slipped his hand in hers. 

Annieโ€™s mind whirled trying to make sense of what she was seeing. 

Tate Sheridan. Here. After all this time. 

She shouldnโ€™t be completely shocked, she supposed. It was his familyโ€™s house, after all. For many years when her father was the ranch manager, the Sheridans had trekked here annually from the Bay Area several times a year for the Christmas season, as well as most summers. 

His younger sister had been her very best friend in the world, until tragedy and pain and life circumstances had separated them. 

She had wondered when she agreed to take the job if she would see Tate again. She hadnโ€™t truly expected to. She had worked here for nearly a year and he hadnโ€™t once come to his grandfatherโ€™s Wyoming vacation ranch. 

How humiliating, that he would show up when she was in the middle of a snowball fight with her niece and nephewโ€” who had no business being there in the first place! 

โ€œWhat are you doing here?โ€ she burst out, then winced. She wanted to drag the words back. It was his familyโ€™s property. He had every right to be there.

โ€œI might ask the same of you. Along with a few more obvious questions, I suppose. Who are you and why are you having a snowball fight in the middle of my property?โ€ 

โ€œYou donโ€™t know who I am?โ€ 

Of course he wouldnโ€™t, she realized. And while she thought of him often, especially over the past year while living at Angelโ€™s View once more, he probably had not given her a momentโ€™s thought. 

โ€œShould I?โ€ 

It was stupid to feel a little hurt. โ€œ

Annelise McCade. My dad was Scott McCade.โ€ 

He lifted his sunglasses, giving her an intense look. A moment later, she saw recognition flood his features. 

โ€œLittle Annie McCade. Wow. Youโ€™re still here, after all this time?โ€ 

She frowned. He didnโ€™t have to make it sound like she was a lump of mold growing in the back of the refrigerator. She had lived a full life in the nearly two decades since she had seen Tate in person. 

She had moved away to California with her mother, struggling through the painful transition of being a new girl in a new school. She had graduated from college and found success in her chosen field. She had even been planning marriage a year ago, to a man she hardly even thought about anymore. 

โ€œNot really still here as much as here again. Iโ€™ve been away for a long time but returned a year ago. Wallaceโ€ฆyour grandfather hired me to be the caretaker of Angelโ€™s View.โ€ 

She saw pain darken his expression momentarily, a pain she certainly shared. Even after two months, she still expected her phone to ring and Wallace Sheridan to be on the other end of the line, calling for an update on the ranch he loved. 

The rest of the world had lost a compelling business figure with a brilliant mind and a keen insight into human nature. 

Annie had lost a friend. 

โ€œIโ€™m sorry for your loss,โ€ she said softly. 

โ€œThank you.โ€ His voice was gruff and he looked away, his gaze landing on the twins, who were watching their interaction with unusual solemnity. 

โ€œAre these yours?โ€ He gestured to the children and Annie was aware of a complex mix of emotions, both protectiveness and guilt. 

The children shouldnโ€™t be here. She had never asked permission from anyone in the Sheridan family to have the twins move into the caretakerโ€™s apartment with her. 

She deeply regretted the omission now. While it was a feeble defense, she hadnโ€™t really known whom to ask. No one in the Sheridan organization seemed to be paying the slightest attention to any of the goings-on at a horse ranch in western Wyoming that represented only a small portion of the vast family empire. 

Annie knew she was in the wrong here. No matter what uproar might have been happening during Wallaceโ€™s illness and subsequent death, she should have applied to someone for permission to bring the twins to live with her here. 

Instead, she had simply assumed it shouldnโ€™t be a problem since it was only a temporary situation and the children would be back with their father after the first of the year with no one in the family knowing they had been here at all. 

โ€œNot mine. They are my niece and nephew. Wesโ€™s children.โ€ 

Tate and Wes were similar in age, she remembered, and had been friends once upon a time, just as Annelise had been close to Tateโ€™s younger sister Brianna. The McCades lived on the ranch year-round while the Sheridan children only visited a few times a year, but somehow they had all managed to have a warm, close bond and could always pick up where they left off when the Sheridans came back to the ranch. 

She could only hope Tate would remember that bond and forgive her for overstepping and bringing the children here. 

โ€œHenry and Alice are staying with me for a few weeks because of aโ€ฆfamily situation.โ€ 

โ€œOur mommy died last year and our daddy is in the slammer,โ€ Henry announced. 

Annie winced, not quite sure where he had picked up that particular term. Not from her, certainly. She wouldnโ€™t have used those words so bluntly but couldnโ€™t deny they were accurate. 

Tate looked nonplussed at the information. โ€œIs that right?โ€ 

โ€œItโ€™s only temporary,โ€ she told him quickly. โ€œWes had a little run-in with the law and was sentenced to serve thirty days in the county jail. The children are staying with me in the caretakerโ€™s apartment through the holidays. I hope thatโ€™s okay.โ€ 

Tate didnโ€™t seem to know how to respond. She had the impression it was very much not okay with him. 

โ€œWe can talk about it later.โ€ 

Annie frowned, anxiety and nerves sending icy fingers down her spine. She didnโ€™t like the sound of that. 

What would she do if he told her she had to find somewhere else for the children to spend Christmas? She would have to quit. She didnโ€™t want do that as she enjoyed working here. But what other choice would she have? 

โ€œWhy donโ€™t we, um, go inside,โ€ she suggested. โ€œWe can talk more there.โ€ 

โ€œWe won, right?โ€ Alice pressed. โ€œWe hit you like six times and you only hit us twice each.โ€ 

Her priority right now wasnโ€™t really deciding who won a snowball fight. But then, she was not six years old. โ€œYou absolutely won.โ€ 

โ€œYay! That means we each get two cookies instead of only one!โ€ 

Annie had always planned to give them two cookies each, anyway. She was a sucker for these two. The twins knew this and took full advantage. 

โ€œKids, why donโ€™t you go change out of your snow stuff and hang out in your room for a few moments,โ€ she said when they were inside the mudroom. โ€œIโ€™ll be there soon to get your cookies.โ€ 

The twins looked reluctant but they went straight to her apartment through her own private entrance, leaving her alone with Tate. 

Excerpted from Sleigh Bells Ring by RaeAnne Thayne.
Copyright ยฉ 2021 by RaeAnne Thayne LLC.
Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

*****

Author Info:

RaeAnne Thayne is the #1 Publishers Weekly, New York Times, and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than sixty books. Her books have been described as “poignant and sweet,” with “beautiful, honest storytelling that goes straight to the heart.” She finds inspiration from the beautiful northern Utah mountains, where she lives with her family.

Author Website

Facebook: @AuthorRaeAnneThayne

Instagram: @raeannethayne

Twitter: @raeannethayne

Goodreads

*****

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Spotlight – Christmas in Rose Bend

15 Wednesday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Christmas in Rose Bend, Naima Simone, Rose Bend series

Christmas in Rose Bend

A Rose Bend Novel

by Naima Simone

ISBN: 9781335620996

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: HQN Books

Blurb:

The holidays have never been her thing. But Christmas in Rose Bend has more than one surprise in storeโ€ฆ

Grieving ER nurse Nessa Hunt is on a road trip with her sullen teen half sister, Ivy, and still reeling from her motherโ€™s deathbed confession: Nessaโ€™s dad wasnโ€™t really her dad. Seeking answers, they arrive in Rose Bend to find a small town teeming with the kind of Christmas cheer Nessa usually avoids. But then she meets the innkeeperโ€™s ruggedly sexy son, Wolfgang Dennison.

Wolfโ€™s big, boisterous family is like a picture-perfect holiday card. Nessa has too much weighing on her to feel like she fitsโ€”even though the heat between her and Wolf is undeniable. And the merriment bringing an overdue smile to Ivyโ€™s face is almost enough to make Nessa believe in the Christmas spirit. But with all her parental baggage, including lingering questions about her birth father, is there room in Nessaโ€™s life for happy holidays and happily-ever-after?

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Powellโ€™s

*****

Excerpt:

Nessa Hunt didnโ€™t do Christmas. 

As an ER nurse, sheโ€™d seen the worst humanity had to offer during the holiday season. Electrocution injuries from plugging one too many Christmas lights into a single outlet. Shoppers with broken noses and blackened eyes from Black Friday fights that erupted over the newest must-have toy. Dads with busted backs from attempting to mount inflatable Frosties and reindeer-drawn sleighs on porch roofs.

And then thereโ€™d been that one memorable sex toy mishapโ€” Santa had boldly gone where no Santa had gone before.

So, no, she was not a fan of Christmas.

Which meant the town of Rose Bend, Massachusetts, was her own personal version of hell. 

โ€œIt looks like Santa Claus just threw up all over this place!โ€ her sister, Ivy, whispered from the passenger seat.

Now, there was a nice visual. But slowing to a halt at a stoplight, Nessa had to admit the twelve-year-old had a point. Who knew that three hours north of Boston and tucked in the southern Berkshires existed a town straight out of a Thomas Kinkade painting? It seemed almostโ€ฆunreal. If any place had that everybody-knows-your-name vibe, it was Rose Bend. Brick buildings housing drugstores, boutiques, a candy store, an ice cream parlor and diners lined the road. The long white steeple of a church towered in the distance. A colonial-style building stood in the center of town, the words Town Hall emblazoned above four columns. And everything was decorated with lights, garland, poinsettias, candy canes and big red bows. Even the stoplights sported huge wreaths decked out with miniature toys and elvesโ€”and the biggest pine cones sheโ€™d ever seen in her life. 

Mom wouldโ€™ve lost her mind over all this. 

The thought snuck out of the steel door in her mind where sheโ€™d locked away all wayward, crippling memories of Evelyn Reed. A blazing pain stabbed Nessa in the chest, and she sucked in a breath. Briefly, she closed her eyes, blocking out the winter wonderland beyond her windshield. 

It had been eight long, lonely, bitter months since sheโ€™d lost her mother to uterine cancer. Since sheโ€™d last heard her motherโ€™s pragmatic but affectionate voice that still held a faint Southern accent, even though sheโ€™d lived in Boston for over thirty years. Since sheโ€™d inhaled her motherโ€™s comforting roses-and-fresh-laundry scent. 

Since her mother had rasped a devastating secret in a whisper thick with regret, edged with pain and slurred from morphine. 

Maybe the well-meaning friends whoโ€™d advised Nessa to see a grief counselor could also counsel her on how to stop being so goddamn angry with her mother for lying to Nessa for twenty-eight years. Maybe then Nessa could start to heal. 

โ€™Til then, she had patients to care for. Now she had a sister to raise. 

And secrets to keep. 

โ€œOh wow!โ€ Ivy squealed, jabbing the window with a finger. โ€œThereโ€™s a real town square and over there is the biggest Christmas tree Iโ€™ve ever seen! Can we get out and walk around? Please?โ€ 

Nessa glanced in the direction Ivy pointed, taking in the square, and in the distance, a massive tree. The idea of strolling around in the freezing weather to stare at a Douglas fir wasnโ€™t exactly her idea of fun. But when sheโ€™d agreed to make this trip with Ivy, Nessa had told herself to make an effort to connect. This was supposed to be about bonding with the sister she barely knew. 

Emptiness spread through her and the greasy slide of guilt and pain flooded into the hole. She glanced at Ivy, Nessaโ€™s gaze lingering over the features they sharedโ€ฆbut didnโ€™t. The high cheekbones that dominated a face Ivy hadnโ€™t yet grown into. The thin shoulders that had become even thinner in the last six weeks, since her father had died. 

A scream welled up inside Nessa, scraping her throat raw. Ivyโ€™s fatherโ€”Isaac Huntโ€”was the man who had raised Nessa until he and her mother divorced when sheโ€™d been about Ivyโ€™s age, and then heโ€™d been more out of her life than in it. He had named Nessa as his daughterโ€™s guardian. He had trusted Nessa to care for Ivy, because she was his oldest daughter and Ivyโ€™s half sister. And though she and Isaac hadnโ€™t shared a close relationship when heโ€™d been alive, she couldnโ€™t let him down. And Ivyโ€ฆ 

Ivy had lost her mother as a baby, and now her father. Nessa knew what it was like to be alone. She couldnโ€™t take Ivyโ€™s sister away, too. 

Even if Ivy resented the hell out of Nessa and begrudged her guardianship with every breath she took. 

But Godโ€ฆ Months of bearing a secret weighed on Nessaโ€™s shoulders. And they ached. These last six weeks had been a special kind of hell. 

She was so damn tired. 

Inhaling a deep breath, Nessa forced herself to push past the soul-deep ache. 

She could do this. 

One of the first things sheโ€™d had to learn when entering the nursing field was how to compartmentalize hurt, grief and anger. Not allowing herself to be sucked down in a morass of emotion. If she hadnโ€™t acquired that skill, she wouldnโ€™t have been any good to her patients, their families, the doctors or herself. So what if some people called her Nurse Freeze behind her back? She got the job done. Besides, as sheโ€™d learnedโ€” first, when her father left the family; second, when her ex had traded their relationship for a job in Miami; and third, when her parents diedโ€”loving someone, caring for them, was a liability. Feelings were unreliable, untrustworthy. Parents, lovers, friends, patientsโ€”everyone always left. Only fools didnโ€™t protect themselves.

And her mother hadnโ€™t raised a fool. 

โ€œLetโ€™s wait on that,โ€ she said, answering Ivy. โ€œWe need to find Kinsale Inn first and get settled. Then maybe later we can come back and do the tourist thing.โ€ 

โ€œRight.โ€ Ivy dropped against the passenger seat, arms crossed over her chest. The glance the preteen slid Nessaโ€™s way could only be described as side-eye. Paired with the curl to the corner of her mouth, Ivyโ€™s expression had gone from wide-eyed excitement to Eff you, big sister in three-point-five seconds flat. โ€œIn other words, no.โ€ 

โ€œDid I say no?โ€ Nessa asked, striving for patience. Sheโ€™s a grieving preteen. You canโ€™t bounce her out of your car. CPS frowns on that. With the mantra running through her head, she tried again. โ€œCheck-in at the inn was at twelve, and itโ€™s now one thirty.โ€ She hadnโ€™t expected to hit so much traffic leaving Boston. Or to take the wrong exit halfway to the Berkshires and have to retrace her route. โ€œWe need to make sure they still know weโ€™re arriving. The square and the tree will be there in a few hours.โ€ 

โ€œUh-huh.โ€ Ivy snorted. โ€œAnd as soon as we get to the inn, youโ€™ll find another excuse not to do anything. Especially with me. Itโ€™s not like you wanted to come here anyway.โ€ 

โ€œFirst off, kid, Iโ€™m not the kind of person who does anything she doesnโ€™t want to do. Second, if I give you my word, I mean it. And third, what does โ€˜especially with meโ€™ mean? Who else would I be up here with?โ€ 

โ€œWhatever,โ€ Ivy muttered. 

Nessa breathed deep. Held it. Counted to ten. Released it. Then tried again. โ€œIs this how the next month is going to be? You angry and me taking the brunt of it? Because I have to tell you, we couldโ€™ve done this dance back in Boston without carolers and hot chocolate stands.โ€ 

โ€œDonโ€™t pretend like you did this for me. You donโ€™t even like me. This is all for your guilt over Dadโ€™s letter. Fine with me if we go back to Boston. I donโ€™t care.โ€ 

Nessa tightened her fingers around the steering wheel, not replying. Anything she said to Ivy at this moment would only end up in an argument. Thatโ€™s all she and Ivy had seemed to do since the funeral. Nothing Nessa did could make Ivy happy. 

And as much as Nessa hated to admit it, there was some truth to Ivyโ€™s accusation. Because a part of herโ€”Jesus, she hated admitting it even to herselfโ€”didnโ€™t like Ivy. Was jealous of her. For having more of Isaacโ€™s love. For having him when Nessa hadnโ€™t, even when sheโ€™d needed him. 

Even though Nessa had called Isaac Hunt Dad all her life, he was more or less a stranger to herโ€ฆjust like the silent, stiff twelve-year-old hunched on the seat next to her. Heโ€™d been an absentee parent since his divorce from her mother sixteen years ago, and Nessa had met her half sister maybe five times before their father died from pancreatic cancer. Hell, she hadnโ€™t even known heโ€™d been ill until the final time heโ€™d ended up in the hospital. She hadnโ€™t even had a chance to sayโ€ฆwhat? Goodbye? Where the hell have you been as a father for sixteen years? Why didnโ€™t you love me as much as you loved your other daughter? 

I love you. 

Dammit. Damn damn damn. 

She fisted her fingers to keep from pounding the steering wheel. 

So yes, guilt had pushed her into taking a previously unheard-of short-term leave from the hospital. Itโ€™d goaded her into going up to Ivyโ€™s school and letting them know the girl would be missing the last two weeks before Christmas break to take an extended vacation. 

She swallowed a sigh, and as the light changed, pressed on the gas pedal. A tense, edgy silence filled the car. Nothing new there either. Nessa snuck another look at the girl, noting the sullen expression turning down Ivyโ€™s mouth and creasing her eyebrows into a petulant frown. 

Maybe their time in Rose Bend would give Ivy her smile back. Or at least rid Ivyโ€™s lovely dark brown eyes of the sadness lurking there. 

And maybe Santa really did fly around the world. 

Yeah, Nessa had stopped believing in miracles and fairy tales years ago. Better Ivy learn now that life dealt shitty hands, and you either folded or played to recoup your losses. 

Soon, they left the downtown area and approached a fork in the road. As she turned her Durango left onto a paved road bordered by treesโ€ฆ 

โ€œOh wow,โ€ Ivy breathed. 

โ€œGood God,โ€ Nessa murmured at the same time, bringing her vehicle to a halt in the driveway that circled in front of the huge white inn. 

Oh, Mom. You wouldโ€™ve so loved this. 

A short set of stairs led up to a spacious porch that, according to the brochure, encircled the building. The wide lower level angled out to the side, with the equally long second floor following suit. The third, slightly smaller story graced the building with its dormer window, and a slanted roof topped it like a red cap. A broad red front door with glass panes along the top and dark green shutters at every windowโ€”and, damn, there were a lot of windowsโ€”and large bushes bordering the front and sides completed the image of a beautiful country inn. But it was the wreaths and bows hung on the door and walls, and the lights that twinkled along every surface, that transformed the building into a fairyland. A Christmas fairyland. 

Excerpted from Christmas in Rose Bend by Naima Simone.
Copyright ยฉ 2021 by Naima Simone.
Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

*****

Author Info:

USA Today Bestselling author Naima Simone’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey and Nora Roberts years ago. Well not that many. She is only eighteen…ish. Published since 2009, she spends her days writing sizzling romances with heart, a touch of humor and snark.ย  She is wife to Superman–or his non-Kryptonian equivalent–and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They live in perfect, sometimes domestically-challenged bliss in the southern US.

Author Website

Facebook: @naimasimoneauthor  

Instagram: @naimasimoneauthor

Twitter: @Naima_Simone

Goodreads

*****

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Spotlight – Her Christmas Dilemma

14 Tuesday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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Brenda Minton, Her Christmas Dilemma

Her Christmas Dilemma

by Brenda Minton

on-sale Nov.30

Love Inspired

Blurb:

Searching for a safe haven and a new beginning.

Returning home for the holidays after an unexpected pregnancy, Clara Fisher needs a fresh start. And working as a housekeeper for Tucker Church and his teenage niece is the first step. Clara still has hard choices to make, but Tucker might be just the person to help her forget her fears. Could the path to her new future also lead to love?

Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/Her-Christmas-Dilemma-Uplifting-Inspirational-ebook/dp/B095M2YFQ6/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=HER+CHRISTMAS+DILEMMA+by+Brenda+Minton&qid=1637073679&sr=8-1 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-christmas-dilemma-brenda-minton/1139540763?ean=9781335758934ย 

Harlequin.com:ย  https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335409577_her-christmas-dilemma.html

*****

Excerpt:

โ€œIโ€™ll take the job,โ€ she said, as if theyโ€™d been discussing the job.

โ€œIโ€™m sorry?โ€

โ€œHave you hired someone?โ€ She glanced at her watch. โ€œIn the past fifteen minutes?โ€

โ€œNo, I havenโ€™t. Iโ€ฆโ€ He didnโ€™t know what to say. This woman had secrets. She had a brokenness that scared the daylights out of him.

But she made his niece smile. For that matter, she made him smile.

โ€œIf youโ€™d rather find someone else, I understand. Iโ€™m obviously not experienced. Iโ€™ve already admitted that I canโ€™t cook and Iโ€™m also only here temporarily, but I could fill the spot until you find someone more suitable.โ€

โ€œWhat made you change your mind?โ€ he asked, glad that his niece had wandered ahead to talk to a friend.

She shrugged a shoulder and glanced around. โ€œA lot of reasons. Shay needs someone who understands what sheโ€™s going through. I do know how much it hurts to feel abandoned by the people who should care the most. Also, I feel the need to do more than sit by myself in Nanโ€™s boat shop. Plus, Nan fired me this morning.โ€

โ€œShe fired you?โ€ He couldnโ€™t help but chuckle.

โ€œYeah, she did.โ€ Her eyes briefly twinkled. โ€œShe said Iโ€™m in her way. She likes her solitary time. She doesnโ€™t mind my help, but she doesnโ€™t want me to become a fixture in her shop.โ€

โ€œShay is a challenge,โ€ he warned.

If she worked for him, could he remain impartial, not getting involved, not caring what her story might be? He doubted it. But he had to do what Shayโ€™s parents hadnโ€™t done: he had to put his niece first. For some reason, he thought this woman might be the right thing for Shay. For the time being.

โ€œI need a challenge.โ€ She smiled.

โ€œI get weekly calls from the school. I think she thinks if sheโ€™s bad enough, her parents will ride to the rescue. They wonโ€™t.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m sorry about that. Parents arenโ€™t always what we need them to be. Sometimes they canโ€™t be, sometimes they choose not to be.โ€

It made him angry to think about his sister and brother-in-law, the choices theyโ€™d made putting them first and Shay last. Could this woman put Shay first? โ€œShe needs people who will support her but not allow her to get away with the trouble sheโ€™s causing.โ€

โ€œI can be that person,โ€ she assured him with a subtle lift of her chin. โ€œGive me a week. If it doesnโ€™t work out, Iโ€™ll go back to boats.โ€

He grinned. โ€œI guess we can give it a one-week trial. Can you be at the house tomorrow at six?โ€

โ€œSo early?โ€

โ€œSecond thoughts?โ€ he asked.

โ€œOnly for a moment,โ€ she admitted. Then they were next in line to get plates, so they spoke no more on the subject.

Tucker was generally an optimistic person, but he knew that letting Clara into his homeโ€”and his lifeโ€”was going to bring an array of problems.

First and foremost, he liked her. He liked her a lot. And that was a big problem.

*****

Author Info:

Brenda Minton lives in the Ozarks. She’s a wife, mom to three, foster mom to five and grandma to a princess.ย  Life is chaotic but she enjoys every minute of it with her family and a few too many dogs. When not writing she’s drinking coffee on the patio, wrangling kids or escaping for an evening outย  with her husband.ย  Visit her online at www.brendaminton.net

*****

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Spotlight – The Secret of Snow

13 Monday Dec 2021

Posted by romanticreadsandsuch in Blog Tour, Sneak Peek

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The Secret of Snow, Viola Shipman

The Secret of Snow

by Viola Shipman

ISBN: 9781525806445

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: Graydon House Books

Blurb:

When Sonny Dunes, a So-Cal meteorologist who knows only sunshine and 72-degree days, has an on-air meltdown after she learns sheโ€™s being replaced by an AI meteorologist (which the youthful station manager reasons “will never age, gain weight or renegotiate its contract.”), the only station willing to give a 50-year-old another shot is one in a famously non-tropical place–her northern Michigan hometown.

Unearthing her carefully laid California roots, Sonny returns home and reaclimates to the painfully long, dark winters dominated by a Michigan phenomenon known as lake-effect snow. But beyond the complete physical shock to her system, she’s also forced to confront her past: her new boss is a former journalism classmate and mortal frenemy and, more keenly, the death of a younger sister who loved the snow, and the mother who caused Sonny to leave.

To distract herself from the unwelcome memories, Sonny decides to throw herself headfirst (and often disastrously) into all things winter to woo viewers and reclaim her success: sledding, ice-fishing, skiing, and winter festivals, culminating with the townโ€™s famed Winter Ice Sculpture Contest, all run by a widowed father and Chamber director whose honesty and genuine love of Michigan, winter and Sonny just might thaw her heart and restart her life in a way she never could have predicted.

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*****

Excerpt:

โ€œAnd look at this! A storm system is making its way across the country, and it will bring heavy snow to the Upper Midwest and Great Lakes before wreaking havoc on the East Coast. This is an especially early and nasty start to winter for much of the country. In fact, early models indicate that parts of western and northern Michiganโ€”the lake effect snowbelts, as we call themโ€”will receive over 150 inches of snow this year. One hundred fifty inches!โ€

I turn away from the green screen in my red wrap dress and heels.

โ€œBut here in the desert…โ€ I wait for the graphic to pop onscreen, which declares, Sonny Says Itโ€™s Sonny… Again!

When the camera refocuses on me, I toss an adhesive sunshine with my face on it toward the green screen behind me. It sticks directly on Palm Springs, California.

โ€œ…itโ€™s wall-to-wall sunshine!โ€

I expand my arms like a raven in the mountains taking flight. The weekly forecast pops up. Every day features a smiling sunshine that resembles yours truly: golden, shining, beaming.

โ€œAnd it will stay that way all week long, with temperatures in the midseventies and lows in the midfifties. Not bad for this time of year, huh? Itโ€™s chamber of commerce weather here in the desert, perfect for all those design lovers in town for Mid-Century Modernism Week.โ€ I walk over to the news desk. The camera follows. I lean against the desk and turn to the news anchors, Eva Fernandez and Cliff Moore. โ€œOr for someone who loves to play golf, right, Cliff?โ€

He laughs his faux laugh, the one that makes his mouth resemble those old windup chattering teeth from when I was a girl.

โ€œYou betcha, Sonny!โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s why we live here, isnโ€™t it?โ€ I ask.

โ€œI sure feel sorry for the rest of the country,โ€ says Eva, her blinding white smile as bright as the camera lights. Iโ€™m convinced every one of Evaโ€™s caps has a cap.

โ€œThose poor Michigan folk wonโ€™t be golfing in shorts like I will be tomorrow, will they?โ€ Cliff says with a laugh and his pantomime golf swing. He twitches his bushy brows and gives me a giant wink. โ€œThank you, Sonny Dunes.โ€

I nod, my hands on my hips as if Iโ€™m a Price Is Right model and not a meteorologist.

โ€œMartinis on the mountain? Yes, please,โ€ Eva says with her signature head tilt. โ€œNext on the news: a look at some of the big events at this yearโ€™s Mid-Century Modernism Week. Back in a moment.โ€

I end the newscast with the same forecastโ€”a row of smiling sunshine emojis that look just like my faceโ€”and then banter with the anchors about the perfect pool temperature before another graphicโ€”THE DESERTโ€™S #1 NIGHTLY NEWS TEAM!โ€”pops onto the screen, and we fade to commercial.

โ€œAnyone want to go get a drink?โ€ Cliff asks within seconds of the end of the newscast. โ€œItโ€™s Friday night.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s always Friday night to you, Cliff,โ€ Eva says.

She stands and pulls off her mic. The top half of Eva Fernandez is J.Lo perfection: luminescent locks, long lashes, glam gloss, a skintight top in emerald that matches her eyes, gold jewelry that sets off her glowing skin. But Evaโ€™s bottom half is draped in sweats, her feet in house slippers. Itโ€™s the secret viewers never see.

โ€œIโ€™m half dressed for bed already anyway,โ€ she says with a dramatic sigh. Eva is very dramatic. โ€œAnd Iโ€™m hosting the Girls Clubs Christmas breakfast tomorrow and then Eisenhower Hospitalโ€™s Hope for the Holidays fundraiser tomorrow night. And Sonny and I are doing every local Christmas parade the next few weekends. You should think about giving back to the community, Cliff.โ€

โ€œOh, I do,โ€ he says. โ€œI keep small business alive in Palm Springs. Wouldnโ€™t be a bar afloat without my support.โ€

Cliff roars, setting off his chattering teeth.

I call Cliff โ€œThe Unicornโ€ because he was actually born and raised in Palm Springs. He didnโ€™t migrate here like the older snowbirds to escape the cold, he didnโ€™t snap up midcentury houses with cash like the Silicon Valley techies who realized this was a real estate gold mine, and he didnโ€™t suddenly โ€œdiscoverโ€ how hip Palm Springs was like the millennials who flocked here for the Coachella Music Festival and to catch a glimpse of Drake, Beyoncรฉ or the Kardashians.

No, Cliff is old school. He was Palm Springs when tumbleweed still blew right through downtown, when Bob Hope pumped gas next to you and when Frank Sinatra might take a seat beside you at the bar, order a martini and nobody acted like it was a big deal.

I admire Cliff becauseโ€”

The set suddenly spins, and I have to grab the arm of a passing sound guy to steady myself. He looks at me, and I let go.

โ€”he didnโ€™t run away from where he grew up.

โ€œHow about you, sunshine?โ€ Cliff asks me. โ€œWanna grab a drink?โ€

โ€œIโ€™m gonna pass tonight, Cliff. Iโ€™m wiped from this week. Rain check?โ€

โ€œNever rains in the desert, sunshine,โ€ Cliff jokes. โ€œYou oughta know that.โ€

He stops and looks at me. โ€œWhat would Frank Sinatra do?โ€

I laugh. I adore Cliffโ€™s corniness.

โ€œYouโ€™re not Frank Sinatra,โ€ Eva calls.

โ€œMy martini awaits with or without you.โ€ Cliff salutes, as if heโ€™s Bob Hope on a USO tour, and begins to walk out of the studio.

โ€œRatings come in this weekend!โ€ a voice yells. โ€œThatโ€™s when we party.โ€

We all turn. Our producer, Ronan, is standing in the middle of the studio. Ronan is all of thirty. Heโ€™s dressed in flip-flops, board shorts and a T-shirt that says, SUNS OUT, GUNS OUT! like he just returned from Coachella. Oh, and heโ€™s wearing sunglasses. At night. In a studio thatโ€™s gone dim. Ronan is the grandson of the man who owns our network, DSRT. Jack Clark of ClarkStar pretty much owns every network across the US these days. He put his grandson in charge because Ro-Roโ€™s father bought an NFL franchise, and heโ€™s too obsessed with his new fancy toy to pay attention to his old fancy toy. Before DSRT, Ronan was a surfer living in Hawaii who found it hard to believe there wasnโ€™t an ocean in the middle of the California desert.

He showed up to our very first official news meeting wearing a tank top with an arrow pointing straight up that read, This Dudeโ€™s the CEO!

โ€œYou can call me Ro-Ro,โ€ heโ€™d announced upon introduction.

โ€œNo,โ€ Cliff said. โ€œI canโ€™t.โ€

Ronan had turned his bleary gaze upon me and said, โ€œYo. Weatherโ€™s, like, not really my thing. You can just, like, look outside and see whatโ€™s going on. And itโ€™s, like, on my phone. Just so weโ€™re clear…get it? Like the weather.โ€

My heart nearly stopped. โ€œPeople need to know how to plan their days, sir,โ€ I protested. โ€œWeather is a vital part of all our lives. Itโ€™s daily news. And, what I study and disseminate can save lives.โ€

โ€œRatings party if weโ€™re still number one!โ€ Ronan yells, knocking me from my thoughts.

I look at Eva, and she rolls her eyes. She sidles up next to me and whispers, โ€œYou know all the jokes about millennials? Heโ€™s the punchline for all of them.โ€

I stifle a laugh.

We walk each other to the parking lot.

โ€œSee you Monday,โ€ I say.

โ€œAre we still wearing our matching Santa hats for the parade next Saturday?โ€

I laugh and nod. โ€œWeโ€™re his best elves,โ€ I say.

โ€œYou mean his sexiest news elves,โ€ she says. She winks and waves, and I watch her shiny SUV pull away. I look at my car and get inside with a smile. Palm Springs locals are fixated on their cars. Not the make or the color, but the cleanliness. Since there is so little rain in Palm Springs, locals keep their cars washed and polished constantly. Itโ€™s like a competition.

I pull onto Dinah Shore Drive and head toward home.

Palm Springs is dark. There is a light ordinance in the city that limits the number of streetlights. In a city this beautiful, it would be a crime to have tall posts obstructing the view of the mountains or bright light overpowering the brightness of the stars.

I decide to cut through downtown Palm Springs to check out the Friday night action. I drive along Palm Canyon Drive, the main strip in town. The restaurants are packed. People sit outside in shortsโ€”in December!โ€”enjoying a glass of wine. Music blasts from bars. Palm Springs is alive, the town teeming with life even near midnight.

I stop at a red light, and a bachelorette party in sashes and tiaras pulls up next to me peddling a party bike. Itโ€™s like a self-propelled trolley with seats and pedals, but you can drinkโ€”a lotโ€”on it. I call these party trolleys โ€œWoo-Hoo Bikesโ€ because…

I honk and wave.

The bachelorette party shrieks, holds up their glasses and yells, โ€œWOO-HOO!โ€

The light changes, and I take off, knowing these ladies will likely find themselves in a load of trouble in about an hour, probably at a tiki bar where the drinks are as deadly as the skulls on the glasses.

I continue north on Palm Canyonโ€”heading past Copleyโ€™s Restaurant, which once was Cary Grantโ€™s guesthouse in the 1940s, and a plethora of design and vintage home furnishings stores. I stop at another light and glance over as an absolutely filthy SUV, which looks like it just ended a mud run, pulls up next to me. The front window is caked in gray-white sludge and the doors are encrusted in crud. An older man is hunched over the steering wheel, wearing a winter coat, and I can see the woman seated next to him pointing at the navigation on the dashboard. I know immediately they are not only trying to find their Airbnb on one of the impossible-to-locate side streets in Palm Springs, but also that they are from somewhere wintry, somewhere cold, somewhere the sun doesnโ€™t shine again until May.

Which state? I wonder, as the light changes, and the car pulls ahead of me.

โ€œBingo!โ€ I yell in my car. โ€œMichigan license plates!โ€

We all run from Michigan in the winter.

I look back at the road in front of me, and itโ€™s suddenly blurry. A car honks, scaring the wits out of me, and I shake my head clear, wave an apology and head home.

Excerpted from The Secret of Snow by Viola Shipman.
Copyright ยฉ 2021 by Viola Shipman.
Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

*****

Author Info:

Viola Shipman is the pen name for Wade Rouse, a popular, award-winning memoirist. Rouse chose his grandmother’s name, Viola Shipman, to honor the woman whose heirlooms and family stories inspire his writing. Rouse is the author of The Summer Cottage, as well as The Charm Bracelet and The Hope Chest which have been translated into more than a dozen languages and become international bestsellers. He lives in Saugatuck, Michigan and Palm Springs, California, and has written for People, Coastal Living, Good Housekeeping, and Taste of Home, along with other publications, and is a contributor to All Things Considered.

Author Website

Facebook: @authorviolashipman

Instagram: @viola_shipman

Twitter: @viola_shipman

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