Spotlight – A Plan for Her Future

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A Plan for Her Future, Clare Connelly, The Calhoun Cowboys series

Harlequin’s Love Inspired line sure knows how to make your heart happy.

*****

A Plan for Her Future

The Calhoun Cowboys

by Clare Connelly

Price: Ebook $4.99 USD / MMP $5.99

On sale date: April 27, 2021

ISBN: 9781488071096

Blurb:

One little girl

could give him a second chance at love.

Jack Prinz barely knows how to be a grandfather, much less raise a child by himself. But he has the perfect solution—marry his childhood friend to provide his orphaned granddaughter with the mother figure she needs. Now he has to convince Grace Partridge to accept his loveless proposal. If only sticking to his plan were that simple

From Harlequin Love Inspired: Uplifting stories of faith, forgiveness and hope.

The Calhoun Cowboys
Book 1: Hoping for a Father
Book 2: Home to Heal
Book 3: Christmas in a Snowstorm
Book 4: A Plan for Her Future

*****

Excerpt:

Grace Partridge, you look stunning so stop fussing.” Jessica James flipped up the car’s visor, hiding the passenger mirror. “Trust me, with your makeup update, your stunning wardrobe and now that glorious feathered cut, you’re going to be attracting men’s looks the entire three months you’re traveling the world.” 

“Oh.” Grace gulped. Attracting men’s looks— Did she really want that? “Maybe it’s too much…” 

“Out!” Jess laughed as she parked in front of Grace’s tidy bungalow. She leaned across and flicked the door latch so the passenger door swung open. “No more second- guessing yourself. Embrace the new you, best friend of mine. And finish getting ready,” she ordered after glancing at her watch. “The Calhoun boys will soon be here to drive you to catch your flight in Missoula.” 

“Yes, they will. Thanks for being my cheerleader.” Grace hugged Jess, stepped out of her car and then she bent over to ask anxiously, “You will call me before I leave?” 

“Try and stop me.” Jessica sounded amused by her hesitancy.

“Thank you, dear friend. You are so—” 

“I love you, too. Later, kiddo.” With a cheery wave, Jess drove away.”

–

Inside her home, Grace dropped her keys on the dish in the foyer while thinking how much she’d miss Jess these next few months. She hung the new dress she’d just purchased in the closet. What a lot of things she’d bought for this trip. 

Actually, her wardrobe shift wasn’t only for the trip. It was part of Grace’s plan to shed the three D’s: Dumpy, Drab and Dreary. 

Her musing disintegrated at the sound of frantic pounding on her front door. When she pulled it open, her jaw dropped at the sight of a young girl whose face streamed with tears while she danced from one foot to the other. 

“Help,” she pleaded. “My pops is hurt.” 

Taken aback, Grace wondered when that nest of black hair had last seen a comb. 

“Hey! Lady! Help him,” the girl begged. 

“Of course, dear.” Grace snapped into action and grabbed her phone. “Uh, where is your pops?” 

“There.” The child pointed. 

Grace gasped at the sight of a silver-templed man in a battered black leather jacket, lying sprawled on the street in front of an expensive-looking black car. She dialed 911 before racing outside and down her sidewalk toward the victim. 

“I didn’t see him, Grace,” her elderly neighbor Mrs. Fothergill wailed as she stood by her car. “When I started backing up, he wasn’t there. Then he was and my foot slipped on the gas pedal. Please help him.” 

“I’ll try, Mrs. Fothergill. I’m reporting an accident.” Grace focused on the operator and gave her address. “A man’s been hit by a car. We need the ambulance and police. Hold on while I try to find out more about his condition.” 

Grace knelt by the man. He was unconscious. She pressed her fingers against his neck for a pulse. With his head half-buried under his arm she couldn’t get a good look at his face. She was afraid to move him lest there were nonvisible injuries. 

“Oh, Lord, help us,” Mrs. Fothergill chanted repeatedly. Distracted by the feeble woman’s agitation, Grace suggested she sit in her car and wait for help. 

“Please, do something for Pops,” the little girl implored her. 

“I’m doing my best, dear.” Grace studied her watch. “He has a pulse,” she told the operator. “It’s a bit fast. Yes, I do have first-aid knowledge, but I don’t want to move him because his leg is at a strange angle. Also, there’s a large bruise forming above his left eyebrow. I believe he hit his head when he fell so he may be concussed.” She turned to the child. “Does your grandfather take medication?” 

“He already took it,” the girl explained. “I dunno if he’s s’posed to take more.” 

Grace relayed that information and the name of the pre- scription on the vial she withdrew from the pocket of the leather jacket. The name suddenly registered. 

“Jack?” she gasped in utter consternation. 

The man moaned and moved his arm slightly, revealing his face. Grace gaped as her breath whooshed out. 

He’d aged. His face was thinner, more angled, rendering him more rakish-looking than ever. But it was Jack. The operator demanded to know what was going on. 

“The victim’s name is Jack Prinz,” Grace explained after licking her dry lips and finding her voice. “He’s fifty-three. Not from Sunshine. Not for many years.” 

Heartfelt or thrilling, passionate or uplifting—our romances have it all. Visit TryHarlequin.com to sample FREE books from among 12 different series. It’s just a taste of the new books published each month—every story a journey guaranteed to leave you with That Harlequin Feeling.

*****

Author Info:

With more than fifty books and millions of copies in print worldwide, Lois Richer continues to write of characters struggling to find God amid their troubled world. Whether from her small prairie town, while crossing oceans or in the midst of the desert, Lois strives to impart hope as well as encourage readers’ hunger to know more about the God of whom she writes. 

Website: http://www.loisricher.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/128821.Lois_Richer

*****

Advertisement

Spotlight – Her Child to Protect

Tags

Delores Fossen, Her Child to Protect, Mercy Ridge Lawmen series

Delores Fossen is one of those that you just know will deliver a good book!

*****

Her Child to Protect

Mercy Ridge Lawmen series

by Delores Fossen

Price: Ebook $4.99 USD / MMP $5.75

On sale date: April 27, 2021

ISBN: 9781335284624

Blurb:

Nothing can stop her

…from saving two lives.

When she arrives at a murder scene, Deputy Della Howell is not pleased to find her recent ex already on the job. She’ll work the case with Sheriff Barrett Logan but will keep the secret she’s certain Barrett isn’t ready for—she’s pregnant with his child. But as the dueling cops investigate, familiar sparks reignite between them…just as they fall prey to a very tenacious killer.

From Harlequin Intrigue: Seek thrills. Solve crimes. Justice served.

Harlequin: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335401700_her-child-to-protect.html

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335401700

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Child-Protect-Mercy-Ridge-Lawmen-ebook/dp/B08NP7DT6L/

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/her-child-to-protect-delores-fossen/1138281181?ean=9781335401700

Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/Mercy-Ridge-Lawmen-Her-Child-to-Protect-1-Original-Ed-Paperback-9781335401700/932187139

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/ca/book/her-child-to-protect/id1540752443

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Delores_Fossen_Her_Child_to_Protect?id=moUJEAAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/her-child-to-protect

*****

Excerpt:

Sheriff Barrett Logan aimed his flashlight in the ditch and looked for a dead man. 

There were no signs of him, but then Barrett hadn’t believed there would be. That was the problem with getting an anonymous tip. It could be a hoax. However, since he was the sheriff of Mercy Ridge, Texas, checking out hoaxes was part of his job description. 

Especially this one, which had come in the text he’d gotten from an unknown number. 

There’s blood near the county marker. She finally did it. She murdered him. 

Barrett didn’t know who this she was, but that wasn’t the only word that had stood out for him. Blood, finally and murdered had also grabbed his attention. If this was indeed some kind of prank, then the person who’d sent the text had clearly wanted to embellish the details in such a way to make him jump right in and investigate. 

Keeping watch around him, Barrett moved away from his truck that he’d left parked on the road. He’d put on his emergency flashers and kept on his high beams in case someone was out this time of night. Not likely, though. This was a rural road with a mile or more separating the sprawling ranches that dot- ted the area. Plus, it was nearly one in the morning, and most folks had long gone to bed. Mercy Ridge wasn’t exactly a hotbed of partying and such. 

Barrett fanned the flashlight over the sign that the texter had mentioned. The sign wasn’t just to let drivers know they were entering another county but also to mark the lines of jurisdiction. Barrett and his deputies policed this side, but if the supposed body was beyond the sign, then that would fall under the jurisdiction of the Culver Crossing PD. 

The cool spring rain spat at him, soaking the back of his shirt and his jeans. Thankfully, though, his Stetson was keeping the water out of his eyes, making it easier for him to see a long stretch of the ditch. Definitely no body and no blood in there, but he did see something else. 

Footprints, maybe. 

Someone or something had trampled down the weeds on the other side of the ditch. Weeds that practically arrowed toward a thick cluster of trees and underbrush. 

Avoiding the trampled down parts, Barrett jumped across the ditch, his boots sinking into the wet ground, and he adjusted his flashlight again. However, before he could follow the trail, he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. One that braked to a screeching stop right behind his truck. It was a Culver Crossing cruiser, and Barrett started muttering some profanity before the deputy stepped out. 

She was definitely someone he hadn’t wanted to see tonight. Or any other night for that matter. The last time they’d spoken nearly two months ago, she had made it crystal clear that she hadn’t wanted to see him, either. Yet, here she was. 

Barrett hadn’t expected her to have changed much in these two months, and she hadn’t. Well, except for that troubled look she was giving him. Then again, Della often looked troubled, and there was often plenty of wariness in her crystal blue eyes. 

The rain had already gotten to her, he noticed. There were strands of her shoulder-length dark brown hair clinging to the sides of her face and neck. Her shirt was doing some clinging, too. Definitely something he hadn’t wanted to notice. 

Della pulled in her breath and released it slowly, the kind of thing someone would do when steeling themselves up. It didn’t seem to help, though, be- cause at the end of it, there wasn’t much change in her expression. 

“Did you get a text telling you that a body was out here?” she asked. 

Her voice and expression were as cool as the night rain, and it reminded Barrett that it hadn’t always been that way. Of course, the noncool times had happened when she’d been in his bed. Since that was another reminder he didn’t want or need, he pushed the thought aside. 

“Yeah,” he verified, and purposely turned back to his search. 

He tried to look unruffled by all of this, but his thoughts were going a mile a minute. Why had someone texted both of them? Was this some kind of sick ploy to get them back together? If so, heads were going to roll.

Heartfelt or thrilling, passionate or uplifting—our romances have it all. Visit TryHarlequin.com to sample FREE books from among 12 different series. It’s just a taste of the new books published each month—every story a journey guaranteed to leave you with That Harlequin Feeling.

*****

Author Info:

USA Today bestselling author, Delores Fossen, has sold over 70 novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She’s received the Booksellers’ Best Award, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award and was a finalist for the prestigious Rita ®. In addition, she’s had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines. You can contact the author through her webpage at http://www.deloresfossen.com

Website: https://www.deloresfossen.com

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/240672.Delores_Fossen

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDeloresFossen/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/dfossen

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/deloresfossen/?hl=en

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/delores-fossen

*****

Spotlight – A Wolf in Duke’s Clothing

Tags

A Wolf in Duke's Clothing, Shapeshifters of the Beau Monde series, Susanna Allen

A delicious mix of Regency romance and shapeshifting adventure from author Susan Conley.

*****

A Wolf in Duke’s Clothing

Shapeshifters of the Beau Monde #1

by Susanna Allen

Publication Date: 4/27/2021

Blurb:

A Duke in want of a wife…

Alfred Blakesley, Duke of Lowell, has long been an enigma. No one dares to give a man of his status the cut direct, but there’s simply something not quite right about him. What would the society ladies say if they learned the truth—that the Duke of Lowell is a wolf shifter and the leader of a pack facing extinction if he doesn’t find his true love? So now he’s on the hunt…for a wife.

Felicity Templeton has a goal of her own: to remain unwed until her twenty-fifth birthday, when she will inherit a significant fortune. But that all changes when she meets Alfred, the dashing duke who’s determined to have her for his very own…

“Sparkling wit, scrumptious chemistry!” —Grace Burrowes, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2JLYMJJ 

B&N: http://bit.ly/39Q39Ov 

Apple: https://apple.co/3qBj49r 

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3eOgFET 

Bookshop: http://bit.ly/36S8bZ5 

BAM: http://bit.ly/2Im0Zuy 

Books2Read: https://bit.ly/3r3buU8

*****

Excerpt:

Following her first meal in Lowell Hall, Felicity and the duke retire to the drawing room for tea. Felicity refuses to marry the duke as they know nothing of one another; he calls her bluff and proceeds to inquire after her interests… 

“I sketch,” she allowed. “I am fond of drawing animals.” 

“Animals?” He pretended to scoff. “A lowly subject.” 

“I disagree. I find there is nothing nobler than the beasts of the field, the birds of the air. I admire their freedom to be themselves, despite many species having been domesticated by humans. I commend the way they take care of one another in their groups or herds.” She peeped at him, hesitant. “I speak of horses, in the main.” 

“There is little that is natural regarding man’s treatment of the horse.” 

“I do not disagree. Man owes civilization to horses and often repays them with mistreatment. I believe we can show true gratitude to the horse with conscientious husbandry. I believe our diligence in this matter will make the whole world a better place.” 

“A bleeding heart.” He was baiting her, of course, and her defense of creatures both great and small thrilled him to the core. 

“A beating heart, a heart that acknowledges the dignity of all sentient beings.” Her hazel eyes glowed like topaz with her passion. 

“Had they any will of their own, they would not allow themselves to become subjugated by us.” 

“I do not deny that there are many who would seek to subjugate so-called inferior creatures,” Felicity allowed, “but those who are sensitive will garner only the best from the animals in their care. If only we would learn from them.” 

“A radical, bleeding heart.” 

“Better a radical than one who stands by and does nothing. Better a bleeding heart than one that has turned to stone.” Miss Templeton scowled at him. “I know your kind, looking down on all around you, full of your position in life that was nothing more than an accident of breeding. Little separates you from the animals, Your Grace.” 

“Oh, very little indeed,” he agreed, struggling to keep his composure. “But come, such a fuss over mere animals.” 

“Mere animals?” She very nearly shrieked. 

He went to meet her fury. “For why would we, who have speech and independence, care for beasts of burden or common house pets?” 

“If it is speech that elevates us, only recall the numberless times that words have caused ill. Only think what is being said about me at this precise moment and tell me that language is something to be proud of.” Miss Templeton forgot herself so far as to fist her hands on her hips. “And as for free will? Those such as you, Your Grace,” she spat, imbuing a world of spite in his title, “those in the upper echelons of society may consider free will their birthright, but the majority do not have that luxury. Why must one species be found superior to the other? Why can we not live in harmony? Why must our own baser instincts cause our animals to be abused? How simple it would be to change our behavior, to make a difference.” 

“It is all well and good my dear, but one woman? Make a difference? In the larger world?” By the Goddess, whatever she wanted, he would ensure she achieved it. 

“Yes, one woman. One woman, who has the knowledge and the will. Knowledge and will are not the sole provinces of men.” 

“And what do you speak of, then?” he challenged. “Training house cats? Bringing dogs indoors?” 

“Well,” she hesitated. “Just for the sake of argument, mind. Horse breeding.” 

“A gentleman’s time-honored pursuit—” 

“A pursuit that has resulted in inbred mounts that, more often than not, do not live up to expectation and must be destroyed. Or result in unreliable beasts that end up hurting their riders or themselves.” Miss Templeton stood near enough to him to bite him on the chin. “All it would take is the cross of stock in such a way that would guarantee the best of both will out.” 

“But madam, how then would our equine friends acquire their mates?” Alfred inquired. “Do the studs apply to the fathers of the mares for the hands, or rather the hooves, of their intended?” He snuck a breath, inhaling her dudgeon, her ardency, her ferocity, and his wolf was like to howling at the full moon. 

“Do not be ridiculous.” 

“Or do they see, and scent, and take?” He leaned in, all but whispering in her ear. “Do they follow instincts unknown to anyone but the stallion and mare involved? Is it the stallion’s pursuit that inspires the mare or the mare’s willingness to be covered that inflames the stallion?” 

“You seek to discompose me.” She blushed but held his gaze. “You are mocking my beliefs. You are mocking me.” She turned to leave, and he stopped her with a hand on the slice of bare arm below her puffed sleeve and above her glove. “You mock me by keeping me here, as if the whole world would believe that you wanted me above all others. I will find a way to leave here and put this sham behind me.” 

He gripped her arm. “You will not leave me.” The dominatum rushed through him and once again had no effect on her whatsoever. “We will marry, and not only because it is what society will demand.” 

“You may force me to the altar.” Miss Templeton stuck out her chin in defiance. “But you cannot make me respond to the vows.” 

“What might you respond to?” He leaned in and ran his nose down her cheek, around her jaw. “This?” She shivered. “Ah, I do know something about you, after all—that a stroke on the cheek makes you tremble.” He breathed in her scent and breathed out, gently, against her neck. “I was merely playing devil’s advocate,” he crooned as he let his lips touch her earlobe. “It was not my intention to mock you. I find your passion quite…stimulating.” He felt her quiver, said, “Do pardon me,” and kissed her. 

Excerpted from A Duke in Wolf’s Clothing by Susanna Allen.
© 2021 by Susanna Allen. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

*****

Author Info:

Born in New Jersey, Susanna Allen moved to Ireland for twelve months — in 1998. Susan is living her life by the three Rs: reading, writing, and horseback riding, and can generally be found on her sofa with her e-reader; gazing out a window and thinking about made-up people; or cantering around in circles. She loves every minute of it!

*****

Giveaway:

3 sets April 2021 releases

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/54ca7af71062/

~

 

 

Spotlight – Lover Unveiled

Tags

J. R. Ward, Lover Unveiled, The Black Dagger Brotherhood series

#1 New York Times bestselling author J.R. Ward returns with a heart-pounding installment of the Black Dagger Brotherhood series with LOVER UNVEILED.

*****

Lover Unveiled

Black Dagger Brotherhood #19

by J. R. Ward

Gallery Books, Hardcover

on-sale April 20^th

Blurb:

Sahvage has been living under the radar for centuries—and he has every intention of staying “dead and buried.” But when a civilian female sucks him into her dangerous battle with an evil and ancient as time, his protective side overrides his common sense.

 Mae has lost everything and desperation sets her on a collision course with fate. Determined to reverse a tragedy, she goes where mortals should fear to tread—and comes face-to-face with the Brotherhood’s new enemy. She also discovers a love she never expected to find with Sahvage, but there can be no future for them.

Knowing they will part, the two band together to fight against what Mae unknowingly unleashed—as the Brotherhood closes in to reclaim one of their damned, and evil vows to destroy them all…

*****

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Trade Street and 30th Avenue

Downtown Caldwell, New York

Forty-eight minutes before Ralphie DeMellio got murdered, he was living the life.

“You got this,” his buddy was saying as he rubbed Ralphie’s bare shoulders. “You fucking got this, you’re a monster, you’re a motherfucking monster!”

Ralphie and his crew were on the sixth level of a parking garage that was all about the oil stains and litter, rather than any Oldsmobiles and Lincolns. The abandoned facility was just a fucking concrete bureau with nothing in its drawers, and in this part of Caldie, any kind of  structure on-its-lonesome didn’t last long. Hello, BKC. Bare Knuckle Conquests was the only legit underground fighting circuit in the south-ern part of New York State, and the bout held tonight was the reason why he, his bros, and five hundred clout-chasing Insta-famers were here.

Any more selfies and it’d be the driver’s license lane at the DMV. 

BKC was big-ass business, and Ralphie, as the reigning champ, was making big-ass fucking bank—provided none of these dumbasses with the camera phones gave their location away. And like, what were the chances of that.

“Where’s the coke.”

He put his hand out, and when the brown vial was slapped into his palm like a surgical instrument, he went to town. As he honked two kilos of powder deep into his sinuses, his eyes went jumping bean over the crowd. Down at the other end of the level, they were antsy, drug-ging, and putting their bets in with the organizer’s bookies. Nothing but three rounds of bare-knuckle minutes between them and the killing they expected to make.

Ralphie was a very good bet.

He hadn’t lost a fight yet, even though he had Slim Jim muscles and smoked a lot of weed. But here was the fucking thing. The bouncer- types with the boulder biceps and the jelly bellies were only impressive when they were standing still. Get them moving and they had no bal-ance, no speed, and follow-throughs like they had double vision. Long as Ralphie kept buzzing around like a fly on shit, he was unhittable as his right hook went to work.

“You good, Ralphie. You fucking good!”

“Yeah, that’s right, Ralphie, you the best!”

His crew was five guys from the neighborhood. They’d grown up together and were all related, their families having come over on the boat to Ellis Island a couple generations ago and gotten out of Hell’s Kitchen soon as they could afford it. Little Italy in Caldie was little different than the one in Manhattan, and as his father always said, don’t trust someone you don’t know and don’t know someone if you can’t walk to their house.

And there was one other person on Ralphie’s team.

“Where is she.” Ralphie looked around. “Where is—”

Chelle was back by the G wagon, posed like a Pirelli girl, her elbows on the hood, one heel stabbed into a tire rim. Her head was back, the pur-ple ends of her black hair licking the metallic paint, her pink lips parted as she stared up at nothing. The night was chilly because April was still a bitch in this zip code, but she didn’t give a fuck. Her bustier was all she had on up top, and the bottom half of her wasn’t covered much better.

Fuuuuuuck. Those tattoos on her upper thighs were showing. And the ones on the swells of her breasts. And the sleeve on her left arm.

She’d always refused to get one of his initials.

She was like that.

As if she caught his drift, Chelle slowly turned her head. Then she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue.

Ralphie’s hand went to the front of his jeans. She was not the kind of woman you brought home to mother, and at first, that was the rea-son he’d fucked her. But she was smart and she had her own hair salon. She didn’t check his phone. She didn’t care if he went out with the boys. She had her own money, she never asked him for a goddamn thing, and she had options, lotta options.

Men wanted her.

She was with him, though. And no matter what she looked like, she didn’t come on to his crew. She was not a pass-around, and anybody rubbed up on her? She was one slap away from knocking their fucking teeth out.

So yeah, after a year, Ralphie was way into her.

To the point where he didn’t care about what anyone else thought, including his traditional Italian mother. As far as he was concerned, Chelle was wifey material and that was all that fucking mattered.

“—got this, Ralphie—”

To kill the ass-kissing all up in his face, Ralphie put his hand on the center of his boy’s chest and pushed the guy back. “Gimme a minute.”

His crew knew what was up, and they turned around and faced the crowd, closing shoulder to shoulder.

And Chelle was well damn aware of what he was after.

The G wagon was parked ass in, with a couple of feet of space be-tween the rear bumper and the garage’s nasty concrete wall. Chelle went around and assumed the position, leaning back on the Benz’s boxy rear door and arching her shit. In her heels, she was as tall as Ralphie, and as her lids lowered and her breasts strained against the lace trim of the bustier, she met him right in the eye.

Ralphie’s heart was going fast, but his smile was slow as he put his hands on her little waist. “You want it?”

“Yeah. Gimme it.”

Ralphie unzipped his jeans and stroked himself as he kissed her throat. ’Cuz she wouldn’t want him to mess up her lipstick. That kinda shit would come later, after he beat the ass of whoever was going to try him tonight. But he wasn’t about to drive his truck through mud, and he wasn’t about to mess up his female in public.

Chelle moved her thong aside, and as she put a stiletto against the concrete, he pumped into her while she grabbed onto his bare shoulders.

The sex was hot as fuck. Because it turned out that if he respected the female? It made everything hotter.

As Ralphie lifted her up so she could put both her legs around his hips, he closed his eyes. The pre-fight rush, the coke, Chelle, the new  G wagon from the cake he was earning at BKC, it was all power in his veins. He was the man. He was the monster. He was—

Ralphie started to come, and he would have yelled out, but he didn’t want people catching his girl like this. Instead he gritted his teeth and held on tight, dropping his head into Chelle’s perfumed neck and squeezing out curses through his locked jaw.

And then he had to say it.

“I love you, I fucking love you,” he grunted.

He was so into his girl, so into the coming, so into the feel of her coming with him . . . that he didn’t notice who was watching them from the shadows about twenty feet away.

If he had, he would have packed up his true love and his crew, and left rubber on the road as he got the fuck out of the parking garage.

Most of destiny was on a need-to-know basis, however.

And sometimes, it was best that you didn’t get a heads-up on the inevitable that had your name on it.

Way too fucking horrifying.

*****

Author Info:

J.R. Ward is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of numerous novels, including the Black Dagger Brotherhood series. She lives in the South her family.

Website – http://www.jrward.com

~

Giveaway: Leave a comment about who is your favorite brother and why for your chance to win a copy of LOVER UNVEILED.

~

 

 

 

Spotlight – Cinderella’s Night in Venice

Tags

Cinderella's Night in Venice, Clare Connelly

This shy Cinderella will go to the ball…but will she end the night in the billionaire’s arms? Harlequin Presents author Clare Connelly enchants with this passionate and uplifting romance.

*****

Cinderella’s Night in Venice

by Clare Connelly

Price: Ebook $3.99 USD / MMP $5.25

On sale date: April 27, 2021

ISBN: 9781335403605

Blurb:

The most infuriating man she’s ever met.

The only man she’s ever wanted…

When Ares Lykaios insists that Bea Jones accompany him to a gala, she wants to refuse—if just to put the arrogant Greek in his place. Yet Ares is as gorgeous as he is commanding, and she can hardly say no to her PR firm’s biggest client.

Bea is shy, awkward…and breathtaking in a ball gown. And one kiss proves her desire matches Ares’s own. So after the opportunity arises to finish what they started in Venice, resisting becomes the ultimate test of his strict self-control!

From Harlequin Presents: Escape to exotic locations where passion knows no bounds.
Signed, Sealed…Seduced

Book 1: Ways to Ruin a Royal Reputation by Dani Collins
Book 2: Cinderella’s Night in Venice by Clare Connelly

Harlequin: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335403605_cinderellas-night-in-venice.htm

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335404084

Amazon: https://www.amazon.ca/s?k=9781335403605&tag=hcg-02-20

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cinderellas-night-in-venice-clare-connelly/1137679033

Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/Signed-Sealed-Seduced-2-Cinderella-s-Night-in-Venice-Original-Edition-Paperback-9781335404084/761516414

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/ca/book/cinderellas-night-in-venice/id1532219845

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Clare_Connelly_Cinderella_s_Night_in_Venice?id=7Kb9DwAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/cinderella-s-night-in-venice

*****

Excerpt:

‘Oh, my God.’ Bea stared at the fast-spreading blob of coffee with a look of sheer mortification on her dainty features. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.’ 

The man—at least, he looked part-man, yet he was also part-warrior, all broad shoulders, lean muscle and hard-edged face—stared at her with surprise first, and then displeasure. ‘Evidently.’ 

‘Please, let me—’ She cast an eye around for some- thing—anything—she could use to mop up the man’s shirt, which now bore the marks of her early evening energy boost. ‘I just made it. It must be hot. Does it hurt?’ 

‘I’ll live.’ 

She grimaced, looking around the office, but it was past six and almost everyone had left. ‘Let me just grab—’ She plucked a tissue from a box on a nearby desk, lifting it to his shirt and wiping furiously, all the colour draining from her face when she realised she was only making it worse. Little white caterpillars of tissue detritus were sticking to the coffee stain, damaging the obviously expensive shirt even more. 

His fingers curled around her wrist, arresting her progress, and warmth enveloped her out of nowhere, shocking her into looking up into his face properly for the first time. At five foot ten she generally found she was almost at eye level with most men but not this guy. He stood a good few inches above her, at least six foot two, she guessed. 

There was something familiar about him, though she was sure they’d never met. She’d definitely have remembered him. His face was angular and strong, like his body, a square jaw covered in dark facial hair—not a look that was cultivated or painstakingly trendy so much as a fast-growing five o’clock shadow. His lips were curved and bracketed on either side by a deep groove, like parentheses in his face, his cheekbones were prominent and his brows were thick and dark, framing his grey eyes in a way that turned the already spectacular specimens into works of art. 

Her breath caught in her throat and she pulled at her hand on autopilot, a familiar instinct to deny anything approaching closeness marking her actions, her lips twisting in a silent gesture of rejection and simultaneous apology. ‘Naturally the London Connection will cover the dry-cleaning fees,’ she offered, her cheeks growing hot under his continued inspection. 

He held up a hand in a gesture of silence. 

Bea swallowed, taking a step back. ‘I didn’t see you.’ Quit talking, Captain Obvious, she derided. It was a tendency she’d worked hard to curb—speaking when nervous was a girlhood habit she’d kicked long ago. Or thought she had. 

‘Where is Clare?’ 

‘Clare?’ Bea parroted with a frown, flicking a glance at her wristwatch to be sure she had the time right. Was her friend and founder of the London Connection—a woman who was as well-regarded for her business nous as she was for being notoriously disinterested in romance and relationships—dating this guy? She hadn’t mentioned anything, but something had been different with Clare recently. Perhaps this explained it? 

‘Clare Roberts—about this tall, dark brown hair? Given that you work here, I imagine you’ve heard of her?’ 

Bea’s eyes narrowed at his tone, which was innately condescending. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the man that not only had she heard of Clare, but they’d gone through almost every major event in their lives, along with Amy Miller, side by side together. The three amigos, from way back. 

‘We had a meeting and I do not appreciate having my time wasted.’ 

‘Oh.’ She grimaced; the oversight was unprofessional and unexpected. ‘She’s not here.’ 

‘She must be.’ His nostrils flared as he exhaled a deep breath. ‘Please go and find her.’ 

‘Find her?’ Bea felt like a parrot, but her senses were in overdrive. 

‘You know, walk through the office until you dis- cover where exactly she is?’ He spoke slowly, as though Bea was having difficulty comprehending what he was saying, when his English was perfect, albeit tinged with a spicy, exotic accent that was doing funny things to her pulse points. 

Old feelings of inadequacy were stealing through her, making her stomach swirl with a very familiar sense of unease. She tried to banish it, forcing a tight smile to her face. ‘Clare was called away on urgent business,’ Bea explained, a pinprick of worry at her friend’s inexplicable and urgent departure pulling at her. ‘Is there anything I can help you with, Mr…?’ She let her question hover in the air, allowing him time to offer a name. 

His brows knitted together, and every cell in his body exuded impatience. ‘You must be mistaken. This meeting has been scheduled for weeks. I flew in this after- noon for this specific purpose.’ 

Bea’s eyes opened wide. If that was true, then they’d bungled something—badly—and that ran contrary to every instinct she possessed. ‘Oh.’ 

‘Yes,’ he clipped, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring—there was really no other way to describe his expression—at her across the space. The air between them seemed to grow thick with a tension that made Bea feel as though she was continually cresting over the high point of a roller coaster. She dug the finger- nails of one hand into her palm, forcing her expression to remain neutral with effort. 

‘As I said, something urgent came up, otherwise I know Clare wouldn’t have left you in the lurch.’ She waved a hand in the direction of Clare’s office, the lights off, door closed. ‘If you give me a moment, I can try to get in contact with her, or log into her calendar and see if—’ 

He scowled fiercely. ‘This is completely unacceptable.’ 

Bea hesitated, unprepared for this man’s obvious frustration. When he was cross, like this, his accent grew thicker, more mysterious and honeyed. 

‘I do not have time to be messed around, nor to accept excuses from some secretary or cleaner or what- ever the hell you are. I’ve worked with Clare a long time, but this is—’ 

Bea felt as though she were drowning. She’d only been with the London Connection for a few months but she knew what this company meant to her friends. Not to mention what it meant to her! This PR firm was important to all of them and, whoever this man was, she didn’t want to have a disgruntled client on her hands. 

‘Yes, very disappointing,’ Bea inserted, belatedly remembering that while she was relatively new to the firm she was also the head of the legal department, having been recruited across from her senior partner role in a top tier City firm. She wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to as if she were the dirt on someone’s shoe. Modulating her voice to project an air of calm authority, she met his eyes straight on, her spine jolting at the clarity of their steel-grey pigment. They were like pewter; she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything like it before. ‘Unfortunately, standing here firing scorn and derision at me isn’t going to achieve very much, is it?’ 

His shock was unmistakable. His eyes widened, flashing with an emotion she couldn’t register, and then his jaw moved as though he was grinding his teeth together. 

‘I am not—’ 

She expelled a soft breath as she cut in. ‘Yes, you were, but that’s okay. I understand you’re disappointed. And I am truly sorry that you’ve flown to London from—’ 

He said nothing. 

She waved a hand through the air. ‘Wherever, only to find Clare not here.’ She turned, moving towards her friend’s office. ‘You mentioned that you’ve worked with Clare for a long time, so obviously you’re aware how unusual this is. I hope you’re able to overlook this rare mistake.’ 

‘I am not generally in the habit of forgiving mis- takes, rare or not.’ 

A shiver ran down her spine at the steel in his words. She didn’t doubt for a second that he meant what he said. There was an air of implacability about the man that she’d felt from the minute he’d arrived. 

Bea had, at first, thought his accent was Italian, but as he spoke more, her appraisal changed. She was almost certain he was from Greece—one of her favourite places in the world. She’d spent a summer there during her degree, and had fallen in love with the sun, the water, the history and, most of all, the anonymity. When she travelled abroad, no one knew Bea as Beatrice Jones, daughter of Rock Legend Ronnie Jones and Supermodel Alice Jones. 

‘Then I hope you’ll make an exception just this once,’ she implored as she flicked Clare’s screen to life, typing in her friend’s password quickly. ‘Please, have a seat.’ 

Heartfelt or thrilling, passionate or uplifting—our romances have it all. Visit TryHarlequin.com to sample FREE books from among 12 different series. It’s just a taste of the new books published each month—every story a journey guaranteed to leave you with That Harlequin Feeling.

*****

Author Info:

Clare Connelly grew up in a small country town in Australia. Surrounded by rainforests, and rickety old timber houses, magic was thick in the air, and stories and storytelling were a huge part of her childhood. 

From early on in life, Clare realised her favourite books were romance stories, and read voraciously. Anything from Jane Austen to Georgette Heyer, to Mills & Boon and (more recently) the 50 Shades trilogy, Clare is a romance devotee. 

She first turned her hand to penning a novel at fifteen (if memory serves, it was something about a glamorous fashion model who fell foul of a high-end designer. Sparks flew, clothes flew faster, and love was born.) 

​In 2016, Clare Connelly accepted a book deal with Harlequin and now fulfils a life-long dream by writing romance that sets your soul on fire for the brand that the world trusts with its heart.

Website: https://clareconnelly.co.uk

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1160213.Clare_Connelly

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/clarewriteslove/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/clarewriteslove

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/clarewriteslove/

*****

Spotlight – The Nightborn

Tags

Isabel Cooper, Stormbringer series, The Nightborn

Fans of The Witcher and Ilona Andrews will love this epic tale of adventure and romance.

*****

The Nightborn

Stormbringer #2

by Isabel Cooper

Publication Date: 4/27/2021

Blurb:

Sentinels spend their lives fighting the monsters that prey upon humanity.

As the Traitor God’s army grows and war looms ever-closer, Sentinel Branwyn arrives in the gleaming city-state of Heliodar to ask its High Council for aid. Its youngest member, Zelen Varengir, is sympathetic to her cause, but his hands are tied by his powerful family—and when they demand he spy upon the beautiful warrior, there is little he can do but obey.

But something stronger than blood draws Zelen and Branwyn together, and when Branwyn is framed for the murder of the High Lord himself, the unlikely duo must learn to trust each other if they want to discover the deep secrets hidden in the heart of the city, uncover the real enemies moving against them, and embrace the attraction neither can deny…all while facing down the return of the greatest threat the world has ever known.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3gtsLAq 

B&N: https://bit.ly/3lgqbkQ 

Apple: https://apple.co/2EoZ0nm 

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3rYHb26 

Bookshop: https://bit.ly/3gBcqKd 

BAM: https://bit.ly/32oZkdF 

Books2Read: https://bit.ly/3r5wGsF 

*****

Excerpt:

“Lord Rognozi and his wife are dead.” 

The words made no sense for a second. Then they took Zelen’s breath away as thoroughly as any of his mother’s lectures or the beatings his father had ordered. Gedo wasn’t putting in nearly as much effort as had gone into the other incidents: he was either very talented or very fortunate. 

“When? How?” 

It would have been unsurprising for Lord Rognozi to have perished quite naturally and uneventfully, and dimly possible that his wife might not have survived the shock and sorrow of it, though it would’ve run counter to what Zelen knew of the lady. That wouldn’t have brought Gedomir to his bedroom. 

“Murdered. Butchered, in fact, late last night. If you want the more sordid details, I’m afraid I didn’t ask for an anatomical report. I’m given to understand that the servant who found them is in a state of shock.” He smoothed an imaginary strand of impeccable hair back from his brow. “And your…envoy…has vanished. As has her very large, very likely magical sword.” 

“She’d never—” 

Zelen lunged forward, with no notion of what the motion might achieve. Denial simply demanded action. 

As he’d so frequently done in their past, Gedomir smiled with lofty derision, not to mention a share of pity. “She has, I’m afraid. You’re welcome to try and convince me that a burglar broke into one of the best-warded noble houses in the city and did nothing but slaughter the inhabitants, or that a servant with years of service suddenly went unstoppably berserk in a manner that didn’t rouse the attention of the others in their quarters.” 

Colors faded from the world. Zelen sat silently and Gedomir fell silent as well as Idriel stepped in, carrying a tray of tea and cakes. He put it down in front of Zelen and glanced between him and Gedomir: Shall I pretend you have another engagement? 

Zelen shook his head. Even that motion took an almost unsupportable amount of strength. “Thank you, Idriel, that will be all,” he said by rote. 

“Very good, sir.” 

“It may not be entirely her fault, granted,” Gedomir said. “I can perceive no motive for the action, regardless of what others may think, given what you’ve told me of her nature. The Criwath court, or even subversive agents there that Olwin knows nothing of, may have placed a spell on her for this purpose. Or her experiences in the war may have caused damage that hid until now.” 

“If she did it,” Zelen said, “I’m certain that it wasn’t of her own will.” 

“I’m certain that you’re certain. And Father and I are prepared to take that into account,” Gedomir said, spreading his hands. The ring with Verengir’s crest, his only ornament, gleamed in the pale light of the autumn morning. “Honestly, the information she can provide is more valuable than any vengeance would be—the Dark Lady can wait on her claim. Father thinks the rest of the council might even see a case for clemency, if the circumstances are right.” 

“Does he?” 

“Would I speak falsely?” Gedomir’s lips tightened, but then he relaxed. “I understand that you’re…biased, but for once your proclivities may have been useful. There’s clearly more here than simple murder. Father and I are prepared to investigate it and to argue as much in the face of all opposition—once you retrieve the woman, of course.” 

There was rock under her cheek and blood in her mouth. Her arms were sticky—probably more blood—and a net of pain wrapped her whole body, fiercest around her right knee and her left eye. Branwyn was fairly sure her nose was broken too. 

All of that was comparatively minor. She’d been injured more severely in the past, though not often, and the healing of a Sentinel was already doing its work, pulling bones and muscles back into place. Even the knee, which would likely have crippled a normal person for life, would give her only a few days of trouble. Branwyn knew as much, and none of her wounds troubled her. 

She had no room in her mind to worry about them anyhow. As consciousness returned, she searched her memory for the fight that must have taken place and found only blankness, then paralyzing fear. 

After the ball, she’d felt uneasy about the Rognozis’ house. She’d gone to get Yathana. From that moment, she remembered nothing concrete: she had a dim recollection of the world spinning, of a sword in her grip and the smell of blood and death, but that was all. 

Now she was—her eyes focused, one considerably slower than the other—in an alley, in the early morning, wearing the blood-soaked remains of her ball gown. 

Yathana was gone. 

Her memory had an enormous hole. 

There was blood on her arms, up to the elbows, and she couldn’t feel any cuts there. 

What happened? was her third question. 

Where’s Yathana? came in second. 

The first was What did I do? 

Excerpted from The Nightborn by Isabel Cooper. © 2021 by Isabel Cooper.
Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

*****

Author Info:

During the day, ISABEL COOPER maintains her guise as a mild-mannered project manager in legal publishing. In her spare time, she enjoys video games, ballroom dancing, various geeky hobbies, and figuring out what wine goes best with leftover egg rolls. Cooper lives with two thriving houseplants in Boston, Massachusetts.

*****

Giveaway:

3 sets April 2021 releases

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/54ca7af71062/

~

 

 

Spotlight – Before Summer Ends

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Before Summer Ends, Susan Mallery

Susan Mallery has to be one of my favorites in contemporary romances and I get so giddy seeing a new book!

*****

Before Summer Ends

by Susan Mallery

Publisher : Harlequin Special Edition; Print edition (April 27, 2021)

Mass Market Paperback : 288 pages

Blurb:

A long, hot summer with her secret crush…

What could possibly go wrong?

Nissa Lang knows Desmond Stilling is out of her league. He’s a CEO, she’s a teacher. He’s gorgeous, she’s…not. So when her house-sitting gig falls through and Desmond offers her a place to stay for the summer, she vows not to reveal how she’s felt about him since their first—and only—kiss.

Desmond should’ve known better than to bring temptation into his house. He decided long ago that his best friend’s sister was too sweet, too good, for him. She deserves a guy who can give his heart. For her sake, he’s stayed away. But as her laughter breathes life into his lonely mansion, he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to resist.

From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.

Harlequin | Amazon | Barnes and Noble

*****

Excerpt:

He tried to shake off those thoughts and return his attention to his work, but quickly realized that wasn’t happening. He obviously wasn’t going to get anything done until Nissa arrived and got settled. For some reason, he was more focused on that than the Asian sales report.

He got up and crossed to the large window in his study. The late-June days were long and sunny, and the garden flourished. The grass was dark green, flowers provided plenty of color in the planting beds, the trees looked healthy. The gardeners did a good job, regardless of the seasons, but in the summer, their hard work paid off.

He turned at the sound of the vacuum cleaner being turned on somewhere upstairs. Hilde had been in a state since he’d told her Nissa was coming to stay. There had been cleaning and washing and other tasks he couldn’t begin to imagine. The refrigerator overflowed with food and there were fresh flowers everywhere in the house.

Her burst of happy activity made him feel guilty. His housekeeper obviously didn’t have enough to do in a day. The house was large, but there wasn’t anyone to make a mess. He rarely ate dinner at home, so she wasn’t spending much time cooking. He would guess she was bored working for him—a problem he didn’t know how to solve. If he’d stayed married to Rosemary, they would have had kids by now. That would have increased the workload. Of course if they’d stayed together, he and Rosemary would have been living in different wings of the house, barely seeing each other, except when they passed in the hallway.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, then smiled when he read the text.

I’m here. Just giving you a heads-up because the house is so big, I thought you’d need an extra minute or five to walk to the door and I really don’t want to be kept waiting.

He was still chuckling when he heard the doorbell ring a few seconds later.

*****

Author Info:

No.1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery writes heartwarming, humorous novels about the relationships that define our lives – family, friendship, romance. She’s known for putting nuanced characters in emotional situations that surprise readers to laughter. Beloved by millions, her books have been translated into 28 languages. Susan lives in Washington with her husband, two cats, and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

*****

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Spotlight – Winner Takes All

Tags

Sandra Kitt, Winner Takes All

How would your life change if you won the lottery?

*****

Winner Takes All

The Millionaires Club #1

by Sandra Kitt

Publication Date: 4/6/2021

Blurb:

“Great story-telling of the most romantic kind.”—Brenda Jackson, New York Times bestselling author

“A warm-hearted story and a clever plot reflecting current issues with sensitivity, warmth, and wisdom.”—Susan Wiggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author

Jean Travis has the job of announcing the latest lottery winner on TV and is stunned to find that Patrick Bennett, her teenage crush, is the top mega winner. They haven’t seen each other in years, and Patrick is thrilled to renew their acquaintance. Jean, not so much. After all, a lot has changed since they used to study together and Jean worked so hard to hide her feelings. Now that he’s won so much money, Patrick faces a whole new world of demands from family, friends, coworkers, strangers. The only person he knows for sure he can trust, is Jean…

“Romantic, tender, emotional, and compelling.”—RaeAnne Thayne, New York Times bestselling author

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3guiF2i

B&N: https://bit.ly/2Eo7Ph6

Apple: https://apple.co/3jeweoh

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3kyGz0d

Bookshop: https://bit.ly/2CWFii0

BAM: https://bit.ly/34tEj4p

Books2Read: http://bit.ly/3twd5UH

*****

Excerpt:

“Hello! I’m Jean Travis, assistant director of Public Affairs at the mayor’s office. I’d like to…to…” She fumbled and hesitated when she was distracted by another person making what could only be described as a perfectly timed grand entrance into the room.

Jean could detect a tall figure, a man, but couldn’t see much else. He managed to create a stir and a brief buzz of whispering, taking his seat. Jean tried to cover her lapse. 

“So much excitement,” she said with a bright smile. “Thank you for being here tonight as we recognize the latest winners in our state lottery. And, of course, everyone wants to know—and see—who will walk away with the Mega Million prize that has grown over the past two drawings when there was no winning ticket.” 

Jean then had a chance to catch her breath while she read an official statement from the State Lottery Commission about the rules governing the program. Her attention was briefly caught again by the latecomer, who, incredibly, appeared to be giving her a covert hand wave. She ignored it and continued. 

“So let’s get to it! Like all of you, I’m excited to meet the lucky ones who will walk away with checks from the State Lottery, with numbers ending in a lot of zeros.” 

A cheer went up through the room. One camera turned to capture the seated group demonstrating their enthusiasm. 

Jean smiled, and then she suddenly gasped. 

The list! 

She had not yet even looked at the winning names on the list Brad had given her. As smoothly as possible, she pulled the list from the other announcements. She briefly glanced at the names. The last name grabbed her attention. She recognized it. But from where? 

“And now, our winners!” 

Jean called the first name, including where he was from and the amount of the winnings. Shouts and applause erupted from the audience as an elderly man and woman came forward, broad smiles and clasped hand-pumps denoting their victory. Jean kissed the cheeks of the woman and man to interject a little human connection. A giant cardboard sign was passed to her, a replica of a check with the amount the couple had won. Jean asked them a few questions about how they planned to use their winnings. The gushing, excited reactions from the couple evoked laughter and shout-outs around the room. Then they retook their seats to another round of applause. 

And so it went, down the list of names for the next forty-five minutes. By the time she called the fourth winner, Jean had her comments to a science, and everything went smoothly. But there was a heightened energy and anticipation, as everyone clearly wanted to know who had won the Mega Millions. Who was going to be set for life? She looked at the name again, and recognition finally sunk in. Jean knew this name. An unexpected catch lodged in her chest. She had to quickly swallow to get her next breath. 

“Will Trick… Will, er… Patrick Bennett, please come to the front to accept your check.” 

She joined in the clapping for the winner, as she’d done for all the others. But this time she was more interested in who came forward. Out of the bright lights, a tall figure emerged. He was casually but smartly dressed in dark charcoal cargo pants, a black Henley, and a collarless, short black leather jacket. Great presence, Jean thought, keeping her attention on his approach, her smile fixed as her gaze widened with recognition. Jean reached out with her hand to touch his arm so that he’d face the camera in the right position. But he stunned her by taking hold of her hand and giving it a subtle squeeze…and not letting go. And he knew exactly how to position himself in front of a studio camera. 

Jean made a discreet attempt to pull free, but Patrick Bennett wasn’t having it. She gave in and tried to relax. Catching her off guard even more, he brought their clasped hands to his mouth and planted a light kiss to the back of hers. The audience loved it, cheering and whistling. Jean played it through and gave a faux blushing gaze into the cameras. 

“Many congratulations to…to Patrick Bennett,” she said with the right amount of enthusiasm and professionalism. “Mr. Bennett is the grand winner today of—are you ready?—seventy-five million dollars!” 

There were whoops and gasps, and one audacious request from a female in the back of the room. 

“I love you! Will you marry me? We’re already here at city hall!” The room erupted into wild laughter. 

“Do it, do it, do it…” went up the boisterous chorus. 

Patrick Bennett, still holding Jean’s hand, raised both in a kind of victory wave. He grinned broadly but didn’t respond to the proposal. His free hand swept through his hair in a gesture that had Jean momentarily transfixed. Then she was able to extract her hand when she was handed the last cardboard check. Cameras flashed, dozens of cell phones were poised in the air, the glow of their blue-lit screens scattered throughout the audience. 

Jean started the applause again, gazing openly at Patrick Bennett. It was an unavoidable sign of recognition between them. And then Patrick winked at her and murmured so that only she could hear, “Surprised?” 

The quiet drawl of his voice made her stomach tense. That word, his tone, seemed much too intimate for the setting. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. She just kept clapping and smiling. 

Jean was so glad when it was finally over. She made a few concluding remarks, thanking everyone for coming and congratulating the winners again. As people got up and began moving around, many, if not most, headed to surround Patrick. She was curious about the familiarity with which people approached and spoke to him, as if they knew him. She covertly watched Trick. Patrick. Jean had known him by the former moniker from the past. Trick. Jean gathered her things, absently chatting with some of the camera crew and making arrangements with the maintenance and security staff to have the room put back to rights. 

She could just hear Patrick’s deep voice off to the side, the easy way he chatted with everyone, even posing for selfies, which completely mystified Jean. He didn’t know any of these people. What came across was a confidence and vibrancy to him, so unlike the other winners…just regular everyday folk who’d had a stroke of extraordinary luck. Perhaps this was one of the biggest, if not the biggest, moment of their lives. Patrick answered questions and accepted the good wishes of those around him with humility and a surprising grace, Jean considered. She kept stealing little glances at him, once catching Patrick doing the same to her. Her curiosity betrayed her once more. 

Reporters continued to ask How do you feel winning so much money? questions, looking for cute, amusing, moving quotes for their profile pieces. She thought there might be an opportunity to use some footage for promo or marketing later on from her office. 

The room finally began to empty out. She took a deep breath and approached the last few people, including Patrick. There was no way to leave without acknowledging him. Without remembering. Was he doing the same?

Excerpted from Winner Takes All by Sandra Kitt. © 2021 by Sandra Kitt.
Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

*****

Author Info:

Sandra Kitt is the author of more than twenty novels, including the acclaimed and bestselling The Color of Love. Her work has been nominated for the NAACP Image Award and has appeared on the Essence and Blackboard bestseller lists. She is the recipient of the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award and the Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award. She lives in New York.

*****

Giveaway:

3 copies of Winner Takes All

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/54ca7af71060/

~

 

 

Spotlight – Up in Smoke

Tags

Annabeth Albert, Hotshots series, Up In Smoke

Three Men and a Baby meets Backdraft with explosive chemistry and heartfelt feels.

*****

Up in Smoke

A Hotshots Novel

by Annabeth Albert

Blurb:

Freewheeling smoke jumper Brandt Wilder thrives on adrenaline. He’s never met a parachute he can’t repair or a dangerous situation he couldn’t wrangle his way out of. He’s popular and fun-loving and not at all looking to settle down or form lasting relationships. It’s a lifestyle that’s served him well…right up until the day he finds a baby on his doorstep.

Shane Travis is used to putting his country music career—and his own happiness—on hold after his sister rolls through his life. Like last spring when she convinced him to try skydiving for his birthday—and she walked away with the hot parachute instructor.

Now he gets to deliver the piece of news that will upend Brandt’s carefree life: he very well might be a dad.

Shane’s niece is safe in Brandt’s strong, capable hands, but too many questions remain unanswered. Co-parenting while they sort it out leads to late-night talks, and soul-bearing confessions lead to a most inconvenient attraction. Still, Shane can’t leave this makeshift family behind—even if it means playing house with the one man he can’t resist.

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335484727_up-in-smoke.html 

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335484727 

Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/Up-in-Smoke-Paperback-9781335484727/771807836 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Up-Smoke-Firefighter-Romance-Hotshots-ebook/dp/B08K3GLM91 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/up-in-smoke-annabeth-albert/1138801894 

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/up-in-smoke/id1533416234  

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Annabeth_Albert_Up_in_Smoke?id=EEv_DwAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/up-in-smoke-27 

Hotshots

Book 1: Burn Zone (available now!)

Book 2: High Heat (available now!)

Book 3: Feel the Fire (available now!)

Book 4: Up in Smoke (coming April 27)

Add Up in Smoke to your Goodreads!

*****

Excerpt:

Brandt’s deep chuckle rumbled straight through Shane. Damn. This was torture. Then the other man wrapped an arm around Shane, positioning his muscled forearm where Shane could see his fancy-looking watch gadget. “Now this is my altimeter. It tells me when we’re at five thousand feet and ready to deploy the chute.”

“Got it.” Shane wasn’t about to study that meaty arm any more than he absolutely had to.

“Okay, it’s go time.” Dallas’s voice echoed though the room. Brandt quickly unclipped them, but as soon as he stepped away, Shane’s pulse kicked up. Maybe he couldn’t do this. Jump out of a plane? Who was he kidding? He was a ground dweller, through and through.

Right when he was about to turn away, though, Brandt grabbed his biceps. “Nerves hitting you? Trust me. You’ll be just fine. I haven’t lost a jumper yet.”

Shane barked out a laugh. “Not exactly making me feel better.”

“Listen, I can tell you all day about how awesome this is.” Brandt looked him dead in the eyes, gaze serious for once, all his charm turned to raw intensity. “But until you do it, you’re gonna think it’s all BS. Sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith.”

“Not very good at those,” Shane admitted quietly as he stepped free of the other guy’s grip. He couldn’t keep meeting his eyes either. Too much power there, like a shot with an extra kick.

“Okay. You want me to tell Dallas you want out?”

A yes was right there on the tip of Shane’s tongue, but then he heard Shelby’s laugh ring out. She’d love it if he chickened out. Not only would she get bragging rights for all of eternity, she’d get what she’d wanted and get to go with Brandt. And for whatever reason, Shane hated that most of all. “Nah. I’m going.”

He white-knuckled his way out to the small plane, spared a nod for the female pilot, and squished his eyes shut until Shelby jostled him into looking at the valley underneath them, the green canopy of the national forest contrasting with the pristine blue sky. Random snippets of lyrics danced through Shane’s head, ways that he might try to describe this view. But then, right as he was settling into something resembling comfort, everyone started shuffling around, getting ready to go. The wind rushed in as the hatch opened, and a full-body shiver raced through Shane.

Then Shelby gave him and Brandt one last coy grin before she and Dallas were away, her whoop echoing across the sky.

“Ready? Here we go.” Brandt nudged Shane closer to the open hatch. Shane wanted to say no, wanted to drag their clipped-together bodies back inside the plane, wanted to both hurl and yell. But in the end, all he could do was nod. Only one way down.

His knees had locked up even as his thighs trembled. Behind him, Brandt was sure and solid. He could push Shane out the hatch pretty easily, but he didn’t. He was letting it be Shane’s choice. And somehow that patience and restraint gave Shane a jolt of courage. One step into nothingness. That was all it took.

Brandt was right behind him, smooth as if they were on a dance floor, not open sky. And now they were falling. Falling so fast. Faster than a car on the interstate with the windows all down, faster than a dirt bike on a steep incline, faster than the whoosh down a water slide. There was no describing the feeling of the wind on his cheeks, the roar in his ears, the shout that probably belonged to him, the adrenaline that crashed through him as he tried to remember what they’d practiced about positioning. Damn. Hard to think.

Which was funny because that was the one thing he was good at. Shelby was forever teasing him about overthinking. But now, his brain couldn’t even pull two words together as they rushed through the air. Brandt yelled something, but Shane was too busy hurtling through the sky to focus on it. And then he was pulled backwards, a hard yank as the parachute deployed. No more freefall. And the oh-my-God-about-to-die adrenaline quieted enough that he could look down, really look.

“Oh my word. It’s… .”

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Brandt’s voice was deep and rich, like warm honey over Shane’s still jangling nerves. Now that the air wasn’t rushing so fast, he could hear him better. Almost too much better, because it felt like they were soaking up each other’s awe and wonder. Sharing something warm and tender and perfect.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing like it.” Brandt whistled low, a sound that hit Shane somewhere soft. “Never gonna get tired of this view.”

“Me either.” Shane almost didn’t recognize his own voice, up this high, this far removed from everything that usually weighed him down.

“Hey, Superman. You want a turn steering?” Brandt didn’t wait for Shane to reply, grabbing his arms, guiding his hands.

“Whoa. Wow. I’m doing it. Look at us.” They swooped gently from side to side, and it was quite possibly the best feeling Shane had ever experienced.

“Look at you. Didn’t know your smile muscles even worked.”

“Screw you. I can smile.” Shane was feeling so good that he had to laugh.

“Well, then get ready. The landing crew will snap your pic as we land. It’s your rock-star moment.”

“Feels like it,” he said right before Brandt took over and set them down softly in a clearing, barely even jarring Shane’s knees. “Damn. That was…”

“It was something.” Brandt was looking right at him, like he could see straight through Shane’s layers, strip him bare. And Shane held his gaze, held the moment as long as he could.

Copyright © 2021 by Annabeth Albert

*****

Author Info:

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.

Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter.  In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.

Website: http://annabethalbert.com/ 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AnnabethAlbert 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annabethalbert 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/annabeth_albert/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6477494.Annabeth_Albert

*****

Spotlight – On the Road to Love

Tags

Melissa Baldwin, On the Road to Love

I’m so pleased to have Melissa Baldwin stop by today to share a little about why she loves villains and give us an introduction to her newest book!

*****

One of my favorite things about be an author is bringing my characters to life. This is especially true for the villains. Honestly, who doesn’t love a deliciously good antagonist? My novels are filled with these individuals who love to wreak havoc and create challenges for the heroine and/or hero. These characters include a horrible boss, jealous cousins, former best friends and the not so loyal boyfriend. And in my cozy mysteries—the murderers of course.

Villains come in all different shapes and sizes and that’s what makes their characters so much fun to write. Of course, in the end I want good to prevail over evil. And I live for those moments when the truth is revealed.

This got me thinking about my favorite villain of all time. Of course, being the Disney fan that I am, I immediately thought of those wonderful Disney villains. They always deliver the worst of the worst or is it the best of the best?

Even our beloved Cullen’s faced many dire situations at the hands of some wicked vampires in the Twilight Saga.

While I adore my protagonists, I remind myself that even the villains have a story. This year I’m hoping to redeem one of my characters in a new book I’m writing. I can’t wait to see what happens. Will she change her ways? Can she make amends for all the damage she caused? It’s going to be a wild ride.

*****

On the Road to Love

by Melissa Baldwin

Blurb:

From bestselling romantic comedy author Melissa Baldwin comes the road trip of a lifetime!

Successful Manhattan accountant Stacy Brown is shocked when her almost perfect life unexpectedly crumbles around her. Blindsided by her husband when he serves her with divorce papers and tossed aside by the women she considered her best friends, devastation and depression hit her hard. But when her mother sends her an old photograph of her and two childhood friends, Candace and Olivia, it fuels a desire in Stacy to find that person she once was. What starts as a chance to reconnect turns into an unforgettable road trip back to her childhood home and an encounter with a man from her past.

Gavin Kingsley, son of Stacy’s old piano teacher and former annoying boy next door, sparks something in Stacy that she hasn’t felt in a long time…maybe never? Despite her hesitation to jump into a relationship, Stacy can’t help being drawn to him as she and her girlfriends take a journey of self-discovery, laughs, tears, and hysterical moments.

Can returning to her past give Stacy everything she’s been searching for in her future?

US – https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07937G7VW

UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B07937G7VW

*****

Author Info:

Melissa Baldwin is a planner-obsessed Disney fan who still watches Beverly Hills 90210 reruns and General Hospital.

She’s a wife, mother, and journal keeper, who finally decided to write the book she talked about for years. She took her dream to the next level, and is now an award-winning, bestselling author of seventeen Romantic Comedy and Cozy Mystery novels and novellas. Melissa writes about charming, ambitious, and real women, and she considers these leading ladies to be part of her tribe.

When she isn’t deep in the writing zone, this multitasking master organizer keeps busy by spending time with her family, chauffeuring her daughter, traveling, attempting yoga poses, and going on rides at Disney World.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Melissa-Baldwin/e/B012M1S100/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/authormelissabaldwin/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/mpbaldwinauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mbaldwinauthor/

*****

Giveaway:

Win a $20 Amazon Gift Card (Open INT)

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/33c69494417/

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Rafflecopter box below.  The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data.  I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.

*****