I love this time of year because of all of the fantastic Christmas romances!
*****
The Brides of Blueberry Cove #2
by Donna Kauffman
Releasing September 29, 2015
Zebra
Blurb:
Thereβs no place like seaside Blueberry Cove, Maine, at Christmasβand thereβs nothing like a wedding, the warmth of the holidays, and an old crush, to create the perfect new startβ¦
Interior designer Fiona McCrae has left fast-paced Manhattan to move back home to peaceful Blueberry Cove. But sheβs barely arrived before sheβs hooked into planning her big sister Hannahβs Christmas weddingβin less than seven weeks. The last thing she needs is for her first love, Ben Campbell, to return to neighboring Snowflake Bayβ¦
As kids, Fiona was the bratty little sister Ben mercilessly teasedβwhile pining after Hannah. But Fi never once thought of Ben like a brother. And that hasnβt changed. Except Fi is all grown up. Will Ben notice her now? More importantly, with her life in a jumble, should he? Or might the romance of the occasion, the spirit of the season, and the gifts of time ignite a long-held flame for many Christmases to comeβ¦
Something old might just become something newβ¦
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23360012-snowflake-bay
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/137224-the-brides-of-blueberry-cove
Buy Links:Β AmazonΒ |Β B & NΒ |Β Google PlayΒ |Β iTunesΒ |Β Kobo
*****
Excerpt:
Feeling somewhat better about herself now, she disentangled herself from the satchel strap, then began mentally rehearsing a summer-weddings-areso- beautiful speech while she looked around for something to scrape the wool scarf out of her mouth. Deciding to get herself unwrapped first, she fished out the end of the scarf, already feeling her fair skin chapping even as she stood there, the warmth of the kitchen creating something of a sting in her thawing cheeks. The struggle with the scarf started almost immediately. It was as if her curls had begun actively weaving themselves into the knitting, becoming one with every loop and knot.
So, she was more wrestling with the scarf than unwrapping it, really, swearing somewhat creatively, possibly a wee bit passionately even, by the time a deep male voice that was quite decidedly not her big brotherβs baritone spoke from far too close behind her.
βIβve got bolt cutters in my truck. We could just cut you out.β
Fiona froze. Stock-still. And not because of anything having to do with the coastal winter weather or being out of shape. She wasnβt breathing hard. In fact, she might never draw breath again. It had been, what, ten years? Longer. Sheβd lost track.Or, more truthfully, youβve blocked it from your memory banks. Blocked it back when the owner of that voice had left Blueberry Cove for college in Boston, excited to get started on fulfilling his dreamsβnone of which included coming back to his hometown. At the time, blocking her memory files had seemed the only way sheβd ever survive not having him in her daily orbit ever again.
She felt his big, broad palms cup her shoulders, turning her slowly around to face him, and stupidly squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would change this sudden new reality. All it did was delay the inevitable.
βFireplug?β he said, as the top half of her face became visible when he pushed the curls from her forehead and the scarf from where itΒ was now haphazardly draped diagonally across her face. There was sincere surprise in his voice. βIs that you inside all that sheepβs clothing?β
Fireplug. All of the air came back into her lungs in one big, sucking gasp. Emphasis on the sucking. Her cheeks burned again, only the sting of remembered humiliation coupled with the memories of her pathetic, unrequited crush on her brotherβs best friend, whoβd only had eyes for Hannah, farβfarβoutstripped anything a Maine winter could do to her fair skin.
They were both many years older now, she reminded herself, and that meant wiser as well. Although she didnβt feel wiser at the moment. At the moment, she felt instantly thirteen again, pining after a guy whoβd barely noticed her, and when he had, had seen her as nothing more than the nuisance kid sister of the girl he was trying to impress.
Of course, that girl was now engaged to another man, and for all Fiona knew, her childhood crush was married himself, with a bundle of kids stashed somewhere. Hell, for all he knew, so was she. Which meant, yeah β¦ the distant past was just that. Distant. And past.
She prided herself on taking an extra moment to steady herself and let her breath ease out, then slowly back in again, before opening her eyes. Okay, so she was still half-tangled in a woolen neck scarf and she wasnβt exactly making eye contact with him, but it was a start. A mature, grown-up start. Between two, mature, grown-up people.
So why is your heart racing like itβs the first time a man has ever touched you? More to the point, why are all your other more mature body parts clamoring for him to touch a whole lot more than your shoulders? Youβre both potentially married with kids, remember?
Only she wasnβt married. Didnβt have kids. Not even the dimmest of prospects of either on the horizon. A horizon that, at the moment, was completely consumed with a big, tall, rugged reminder of all that she didnβt have. Had never had. A reminder, it should be noted, who still had his hands on her.
All her line of vision allowed, howeverβnow that heβd turned her around so her back was to him, tipping her head forward to allow him to work her hair free from the scarfβwas the Michelin Man-style, double-padded red snow coat sheβd buttoned around her short, curvy frame, under which was a layer of thick hoodie, a long-sleeved turtleneck, and a T-shirt. She surprised herself by letting out a muffled snort. βWell, if the nickname still fits,β she murmured, proud of herself for embracing the humor in the moment, only to discover a split second later she was blinking back stupid tears.
Maybe no matter how much a person grew up, no matter how much she matured, she thought, mortified all over again, there would always be a part of her who was still that same, invisible thirteen-year-old girl.
*****
USA Today bestselling author of the Cupcake Club Romance series, Donna Kauffman has seen her books reviewed in venues ranging from Kirkus Reviews and Library Journal to Entertainment Weekly and Cosmopolitan. She lives just outside of DC in the lovely Virginia countryside, where she is presently trying to makeover her newly empty nest into something that doesnβt have to accommodate piles of sports equipment falling out of her coat closet (okay, out of every closet…and under every bed….), size 13 cleats and sweaty uniforms cluttering her foyer (and stairwell, and laundry room, and…), and a kitchen that should have come with a traffic light. And a pantry monitor. (Anyone with a clever idea on how to repurpose lacrosse sticks into matching reading lamps, sheβs all ears!) When sheβs not stripping paint, varnishing an old auction house find, or trying to avoid bodily injury with her latest power tool purchase, she loves to hear from readers!
Author Links:Β WebsiteΒ |Β FacebookΒ |Β TwitterΒ |Β GoodReads
*****
Review:
I loved Fiona and Ben together – the ending was great, as is their shared past (full of unrequited love, embarrassment and affection). Β I didΒ I feel JUSTΒ a littleΒ like I was cheated out of their romance, since a lot of their courtship happened in texts and phone calls that we didn’t get to be a part of. Β But it is a family piece as well, so there are those interactions, as well as Ben’s decision on what to do with the farm and the two of them getting to the point of deciding what to do with their attraction. There areΒ a lot of important things going on, but a part of me wishes they hadn’t spent so much time with other people and more time together being cute and falling in love πΒ Because when they were together it was fan-freakin-tastic. Β I definitely think it is a good read, as long as you go into it knowing there is a lot more happening than just Fiona and Ben’s love story.
*****
Giveaway:
a print copy of SNOWFLAKE BAY
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/521ac4c8850/
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