Last year Harlequin sent two Harlequin Heroes, a Cowboy and a Viking, on real-life dates. The unsuspecting public couldn’t get enough… and their hilarious reactions were captured with hidden cameras! Remember this? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OIxBqJu5NI Or how about this? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6jT07uKjto By popular demand, they’ve sent 2 more heroes on dates—a Highlander and a Prince.
Royal responsibility has been drummed into Prince Vitale since childhood—but his hunger for Jazmine crushes all sense of restraint. Her unexpected pregnancy revelation leaves Vitale no choice—he knows what he must do. A temporary marriage will legitimize their twins, but when the fire between them fails to burn out, he has to wonder…could Jazz be his permanent princess?
Earlier this month Harlequin asked the question “What happens when a tartan-clad Highlander goes on a real-life date?” Find out in their Make a Date with Harlequin – Highlander video which released March 6th!
In this Warriors of the Night story, Lianna MacKinnon seeks to avoid her betrothal to a Norman lord by giving herself to an intriguing stranger. But afterward, she discovers her sensual lover is none other than Rhys de Laurent—her betrothed—in disguise! They’ve already had their wedding night… Now there’s no escaping their marriage vows!
Escape to your happy place when you #MakeaDateWithHarlequin!
Whether you need an escape from your hectic day, or have some unexpected time to yourself—you can count on Harlequin Series for great romance reads whenever and wherever you are. From inspirational romance to heart-racing suspense, sweet or steamy sagas, Harlequin has whatever you’re looking for.
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A gangster hiding from his past. A single mom fighting for her future. Can she show this bad boy the man’s he’s meant to be? Mia Hopkins is back with the first in an all-new contemporary series, THIRSTY (Eastside Brewery #1)!
My name is Salvador Rosas. Back in the barrio, my past is written on the walls: ESHB. Short for East Side Hollenbeck, my father’s gang—my gang. Hell, it’s a family tradition, one that sent both my brothers away. They used to call me “Ghost” because I haunted people’s dreams. Now I’ve got nothing going for me except a hipster gringo mentoring me in a new career. An ex-con making craft beer? No mames.
Still, people in this neighborhood look out for one another. That’s how I became Vanessa Velasco’s unwelcome tenant. Chiquita pero picosa. She’s little, but with curves so sweet they’re dangerous. I remember Vanessa from the old days, the straight-A student with big plans. Plans that were derailed by another kid stupid enough to think he was bulletproof. Now Vanessa knows better than to believe in empty promises. There’s fire in her . . . and if I touch her, I might get burned.
I’m trying everything I can to go straight. But when East Side Hollenbeck comes calling, I might have to risk it all to find out if there’s a future for Vanessa and me. Because she’s the only one who can quench my thirst for something real.
“Thirsty is sexy and soul-wrenching, with Sal’s irresistible voice luring you through a living, breathing Los Angeles. Vanessa and Sal’s chemistry is sizzling right off the page, and their journey will keep you on the edge of your seat. Five smoldering, tattooed stars!” – USA Today Bestselling Author Sierra Simone
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Grand Prize: (1) 7’ Kindle Fire (8GB) + (2) Backlist titles from Mia Hopkins (Digital Only)
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The ride starts with a burst of music like a jack-in-the-box. We glide backward and over a couple of times. The Ferris wheel stops to let other passengers on. At the very top, our carriage swings back and forth before it goes still.
Now I can see my neighborhood from a different viewpoint, high above. The lights of the carnival are bright and beautiful. The smells of tacos, hot dogs, and popcorn fill my nose. People pack the church parking lot. Cars line the street, and in the surrounding houses, lights in the windows show where families are talking or watching TV or having dinner.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m all right.”
She’s looking at the same things I am. I wonder if she is seeing the same details. I stroke her hair and take another risk. “So what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Starting something with me?”
She takes a deep breath but doesn’t say anything.
“What are your doubts?” I say.
“Are you kidding?” She snorts. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
I laugh a little. “Okay, well. Besides the obvious.”
“You have your own life. I have mine. You’re trying to rebuild from the ground up. I’m trying to secure my daughter’s future. We’re heading in different directions.”
She isn’t wrong. Life has disappointed her in such deep and cruel ways, I don’t blame her for protecting herself. But even as she tells me this—the truth about how we’re not right for each other—I feel how right it is to talk to her, to hold her hand, to show her who I am. “I have an idea,” I say. “Probation.”
“What?”
“I’m only around for two months, right?”
“Right.”
“Spend those two months with me.” I look into her eyes. “I want to be with you, Vanessa.”
“Sal—”
“I’ll be gone before I have a chance to disappoint you.” When the words leave my mouth, I try to ignore how pathetic they sound. “We’re adults, not dumb kids. We won’t lose our heads.” I run my fingers through her silky hair. “I swear to God, every time I look at you, I feel . . .” I reach for the most honest word I can find. “Thirsty.”
Praise for titles by Mia Hopkins:
“Mia Hopkins knows how to put characters on a page.” – HEROES AND HEARTBREAKERS
“Mia Hopkins is an imaginative author who doesn’t take the easy road to a formulaic book.” – USA TODAY
“Sweet and filthy at the same time, just the way I like it. This book made me so happy.”
– READ ALL THE ROMANCE
“The writing is excellent, the emotions leap off the page, and the sex is downright earthy.” – JILL SORENSON, AUTHOR
“Beautifully descriptive…hot, sexy and full of yearning!” – DELILAH DEVLIN, AUTHOR
“Off the charts hot.” – THE ROMANCE STUDIO
“A tantalizing slow seduction of the senses.” – STRANGE CANDY REVIEWS
“Hopkins packs a lot of heat and romance on the pages…Caution: hot, sexy times ahead!”
– READER GIRLS BLOG
“Filled with sizzling chemistry, hot sex, and just enough sweetness to leave me wanting more…And those sex scenes…Holy hotness!” – CRYSTAL BLOGS BOOK
Author Bio:
Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends. She lives in Los Angeles with her roguish husband and waggish dog.
You can also visit her online at the following places:
Evy Journey, writer, wannabe artist, and flâneuse (feminine of flâneur), wishes she lives in Paris where people have perfected the art of aimless roaming. Armed with a Ph.D., she used to research and help develop mental health programs.
She’s a writer because beautiful prose seduces her and existential angst continues to plague her despite such preoccupations having gone out of fashion. She takes occasional refuge by invoking the spirit of Jane Austen to spin tales of love, loss, and finding one’s way—stories into which she weaves mystery or intrigue.
Gina’s grandfather was a French chef whose life was cut short by a robber’s bullet. The only lasting legacy he could leave his family was his passion and talent for cooking.
Growing up poor but with a mother who is a gifted cook. Gina learns cooking a great meal is an act of love. An art that sustains and enhances life.
A world of new challenges, new friends, and new loves opens up for her when she’s chosen to cook for a Michelin-starred restaurant.
But danger lurks where one never expects it.
Can her passion for cooking help Gina survive and thrive in this world of privilege, pleasure and menace?
I’m alive. I’m dead. I’m in-between. In that limbo where my vital signs hover just above death. I rise above my body and look down on it, lying on a gurney. Hospital staff are rushing me along the brightly-lit hallway to the operating room. One of them holds an oxygen mask on my face. Another, a bag of intravenous fluid connected to my veins by a tube.
I’m not ready to die yet. These good people anxious to rescue me don’t know that my resolve is the only thing that is keeping me alive. No, I’m not ready to die—I’ve only just begun to live. I have yet to prove to myself, to the world, that I have what it takes to prevail.
My family—now on their way to the hospital—doesn’t know yet exactly what happened to me. And except for one detective, neither do the police. I see him now by the foot of the gurney, keeping pace with the nurses. He’s scowling, his lips pressed into a grim line.
A tall, taut, and solitary man, he has deep-set gray eyes clouded by too many images of violent death and a lower lip that hangs perpetually open in disgust or despair. So much darkness he has already seen in his thirty odd years in this world. He needs to piece together the facts that constitute the attempt on my life, events that may have led to it, and various fragments of my past to understand what brought me to this point.
The first time I met him, I fell in love with him. There was something primal about him, some paternal, animalistic instinct to save hurt or fallen victims. Like me, maybe. It gave him power and it made him irresistible to me.
But fate is fickle. It teases. It entices. One day, something quite ordinary happens to you. Yet, you sense that that ordinary something can change your life. Not necessarily for something better, but for something new. Fate is dangling before you the promise of a world that, before then, was totally out of your reach. How can you not seize it?
Now, of course, I see the end of that promise. And it’s not where I want to be.
It’s tragic, don’t you think, that the end of that promise should be right here on a gurney, with me fighting for my life? It certainly is not what I hoped for.
How could it end this way? I embraced life, took chances, but half-dead on this gurney, I wonder: Am I paying with my life? But, like I said. I’m not ready to die yet
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FTC: I received a free copy of this book from Pump Up Your Book in exchange for my honest review. I received no other compensation and the opinions expressed in this review are one hundred percent true and my own.
Welcome To Moonlight Harbor by Sheila Roberts was a good book. I loved just about everything of this book and I can’t wait to read more books by this author in the future. I fell in love with Jenna right from the start and I loved watching her grow and change as the book went on. I did feel bad for her daughter because I can’t even imagine how hard it had to be for her. This book was really well written, and it is one of those books that came to life for me and by the end of the book I felt like the characters were real people. I think anyone who loves chick lit will love this book just as much as I did.
About The Book
Title: WELCOME TO MOONLIGHT HARBOR Author: Sheila Roberts Publisher: Harlequin MIRA Pages: 400 Genre: Women’s Fiction
Once-happily married Jenna Jones is about to turn forty, and this year for her birthday – lucky her – she’s getting a divorce. She’s barely able to support herself and her teenage daughter, but now her deadbeat artist ex is hitting her up for spousal support…and then spending it on his “other” woman.
Still, Jenna is determined follow her mother’s philosophy – every storm brings a rainbow. And when she gets a very unexpected gift from her great Aunt Edie, things seem to be taking a turn for the better. Aging aunt Edie is finding it difficult to keep up her business running The Driftwood Inn, so she invites Jenna to come live with her and run the place. It looks like Jenna’s financial problems are solved!
Or not. The town is a little more run-down than Jenna remembered, but that’s nothing compared to the ramshackle state of The Driftwood Inn. Aunt Edie is confident they can return it to its former glory, though Jenna feels like she’s jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the beach fire.
But who knows? With the help of her new friends and a couple of handsome citizens, perhaps that rainbow is on the horizon after all. Because, no matter what, life is always good at the beach.
About The Author
Sheila Roberts lives on the water in the Pacific Northwest. Her books have been printed in several different languages and have been chosen for book clubs such as Doubleday as well as for Readers Digest Condensed books. Her best-selling novel ON STRIKE FOR CHRISTMAS was made into a movie and appeared on the Lifetime Movie Network, and her novel THE NINE LIVES OF CHRISTMAS was made into a movie for the Hallmark Channel.
When she’s not making public appearances or playing with her friends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends, and chocolate.
Or just tell them I’ve got bubonic plague and cancel
The four women seated at a corner booth in the Mexican restaurant were getting increasingly noisier with each new round of drinks. Cinco de Mayo had come and gone, but these ladies still had something to celebrate, as they were all dressed in slinky tops over skinny jeans and body-con dresses, killer shoes, and wearing boas. There were four of them, all pretty, all still in their thirties. Except the guest of honor, who was wearing a black dress, a sombrero and a frown. She was turning forty.
It was going to take a while for her to get as jovial as the others (like about a million years) considering what she’d just gotten for her birthday. A divorce.
“Here’s to being free of rotten scum-sucking, cheating husbands,” toasted Celeste, sister of the guest of honor. She was thirty-five, single, and always in a party mood.
The birthday girl, Jenna Jones, formerly Jenna Petit, took another sip of her mojito. She could get completely sloshed if she wanted. She wasn’t driving and she didn’t have to worry about setting a good example for her daughter, Sabrina, who was spending the night with Grandma. Later, if they could still work their cell phones, the gang would be calling Uber and getting driven home and poured into their houses or, in the case of sister Celeste, apartments, so there was no need to worry about driving drunk. But Jenna wasn’t a big drinker, even when she was in a party mood, and tonight she was as far from that as a woman could get.
What was there to party about when you were getting divorced and turning (ick!) forty? Still, that mojito was going down pretty easily. And she was inhaling the chips and salsa. At the rate she was going she’d be getting five extra pounds for her birthday as well as a divorce.
“Just think, you can make a whole new start,” said her best friend Brittany. Brittany was happily married with three kids. What did she know about new starts? Still, she was trying to put a positive spin on things.
“And who knows? Maybe the second time around you’ll meet a business tycoon” said Jenna’s other bestie, Vanita.
“Or someone who works at Amazon and owns lots of stock,” put in Celeste.
“I’d take the stock in a heartbeat,” Jenna said, “but I’m so over men.” She’d given up on love. Maybe, judging from the chewed fingernails and grown-out highlights in her hair, she’d given up on herself, too. She felt shipwrecked. What was the point of building a rescue fire? The next ship to come along would probably also flounder.
“No, you’re over man,” Brittany corrected. “You can’t give up on the whole species because of one loser. You don’t want to go through the rest of your life celibate.” She shuddered as if celibacy was akin to leprosy.
“Anyway, there’s some good ones out there somewhere,” said Vanita, who, at thirty-six, was still single and looking. “They’re just hiding,” she added with a guffaw, and took another drink of her Margarita.
“That’s for sure,” Celeste agreed, who was also looking now that This-is-it Relationship Number Three had died. With her green eyes, platinum hair, pouty lips and perfect body, it probably wouldn’t take her long to find a replacement. “Men. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t …” Her brows furrowed. “Live with ‘em.”
Jenna hadn’t been able to live with hers, that was for sure, not once she learned Mr. Sensitive Artist had another muse on the side – a redhead who painted murals and was equally sensitive. And had big boobs. That had nothing to do with why they were together, Damien had insisted. They were soul mates.
Funny, he’d said the same thing to Jenna once. It looked like some souls could have as many mates as they wanted.
Damien Petit, handsome, charming… rat. When they first got together Jenna had thought he was brilliant. They’d met at a club in the U District. He’d been the darling of the University of Washington Art Department. He’d looked like a work of art, himself, with brooding eyes and the perfectly chiseled features of a marble statue. She’d been going to school to become a massage therapist. She, who had never gotten beyond painting tiles and decorating cakes, had been in awe. A real artist. His medium was un-recyclable detritus. Junk.
Too bad she hadn’t seen the symbolism in that back when they first got together. All she’d seen was his creativity.
She was seeing that in full bloom now. Damien had certainly found a creative way to support himself and his new woman – on spousal support from Jenna.
Seriously? She’d barely be able to support herself and Sabrina once the dust settled.
Nonetheless, the court had deemed that she had been the main support of the family and poor, struggling artist Damien needed transitional help while he readied himself to get out there in the big, bad world and earn money on his own. Her reward for being the responsible one in the marriage was to support the irresponsible one. So now, he was living in the basement of his parent’s house, cozy as a cockroach with the new woman, and Jenna was footing the bill for their art supplies. Was this fair? Was this right? Was this any way to start off her fortieth year?
Her sister nudged her. “Hey, smile. We’re having fun here.”
Jenna forced a smile. “Fun.”
“You can’t keep brooding about the junk jerk.”
“I’m not,” Jenna lied.
“Yeah, you are. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I know it’s not fair you have to pay him money,” put in Brittany, “but that’s how things work today. You know, women’s rights and all. If men can pay us spousal support we can pay them, too.”
“Since when does women’s rights give your ex the right to skip off like a fifteen-year old with his new bimbo and you pay for the fun?” Jenna demanded.
It was sick and wrong. She’d carried him for years, working as a massage therapist while he dabbled away, selling a piece of art here and there. They’d lived on her salary supplemented by an annual check at Christmas from his folks, who wanted to encourage him to pursue his dream of artistic success, and grocery care packages from her mom, who worked as a checker at the local Safeway. And the grandparents, God bless them, had always given her a nice, fat check for her birthday. Shocking how quickly those fat checks always shrank. Damien drank up money like a thirsty plant, investing it in his art … and certain substances to help him with his creative process.
Maybe everyone shouldn’t have helped them so much. Maybe they should have let Damien become a starving artist, literally. Then he might have grown up and manned up and gotten a job.
They’d had more than one discussion about that. “And when,” he’d demanded, “am I supposed to do my art?”
“Evenings? Weekends?”
He’d looked heavenward and shaken his head. “As if you can just turn on creativity like a faucet.”
One of Jenna’s clients was an aspiring writer with a family, who worked thirty hours a week. She managed to turn on the faucet every Saturday morning.
There was obviously something wrong with Damien’s pipes. “I need time to think, time for things to come together.”
Something had come together all right. With Aurora Ansel, whose mother had obviously watched one too many Disney movies.
Jenna probably should have packed it in long before Aurora came slinking along, admitted what she’d known after only a couple of years into the marriage that it had been a mistake. But after she’d gotten pregnant she’d wanted desperately to make things work, so she’d kept her head down and kept ploughing forward through rough waters.
Now she and Damien were through and it still didn’t look like clear sailing ahead. Sigh.
“Game time,” Celeste announced. We are going to see who can wish the worst fate on the scum-sucking cheater. I have a prize for the winner.” She dug in her capacious Michael Kors purse and pulled out a Seattle Chocolates chocolate bar and everyone, including the birthday girl let out an “ooh.”
“Okay, I’ll go first,” Brittany said. “May he fall in a dumpster looking for junk and not be able to climb out.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jenna said, and did.
“Oh, that’s lame,” scoffed Vanita.
“So, you think you can do better?” Brittany challenged.
“Absolutely,” she said, flipping her long, black hair. “May he wind up in the Museum of Bad Art.”
“There is such a thing?” Jenna asked.
“Oh, yeah.” Vanita grinned.
“Ha!” Celeste crowed. “That would serve him right.”
Jenna shook her head. “That will never be happen. To be fair, he is good.”
“Good at being a cheating scum sucker,” Celeste said and took a drink.
Vanita tried again. “Okay, then, how about this one? May a thousand camels spit on his work.”
“Or a thousand first-graders,” added Celeste, who taught first grade.
“How about this one? May the ghost of Van Gogh haunt him and cut off his ear,” Brittany offered.
Vanita made a face and set down the chip she was about to bite into. “Eeew.”
“Eew is right,” Jenna agreed. “But I’m feeling bloodthirsty tonight so I’ll drink to that. I think that one’s your winner,” she said to her sister.
Celeste shook her head. “Oh, no. I can do better than that.”
“Go for it,” urged Brittany.
Celeste’s smile turned wicked. “May his ‘paint brush’ shrivel and fall off.”
“And to think you teach children,” Jenna said, rolling her eyes.
Nonetheless, the double entendre had them all laughing uproariously.
“Okay, I win the chocolate,” Celeste said.
“You haven’t given Jenna a chance,” pointed out Brittany.
“Go ahead, try and beat that,” Celeste said, waving the chocolate bar in front of Jenna.
“I can’t. It’s yours.”
Their waiter, a cute twenty-something Latino, came over. “Are you ladies ready for another drink?”
“We’d better eat,” Jenna said. Her mojito was going to her head.
Celeste overrode her. “We’ve got plenty of night left. Bring us more drinks,” she told the waiter. “And more chips.” She held up the empty bowl.
“Anything you ladies want,” he said, and smiled at Jenna.
Celeste nudged her as he walked away. “Did you hear that? Anything you want.”
“Not in the market,” Jenna said firmly, shaking her head and making the sombrero wobble. Tonight she hated men.
But, she decided, she did like mojitos, and her second one went down just fine.
So did the third. Olé.
Saturday morning, she woke up with gremlins sandblasting her brain and her mouth tasting like she’d feasted on cat litter instead of enchiladas. She rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom where she tried to silence the gremlins with aspirin and a huge glass of water. Then she made the mistake of looking in the mirror.
Ugh. Who was that woman with the ratty, long, blond-gone hair? Her bloodshot eyes were more red than blue and the circles under them made her look a decade older than what she’d just turned. Well, she felt a decade older than what she’d just turned.
A shower would help. Maybe.
Or maybe not. She still didn’t look so hot, even after she’d blown out her hair and put on some make-up. But oh, well. At least the gremlins had taken a lunch break.
She got in her ten-year-old Toyota (thank God they made those cars to run forever – this one would have to) and drove to her mother’s house to pick up her daughter.
She found her mother stretched out on the couch with a romance novel. Unlike her daughter, she looked rested, refreshed, and ready for a new day. In her early sixties, she was still an attractive woman, slender with a youthful face and the gray hairs well hidden under a sandy brown that was only slightly lighter than her original color.
“Hello, birthday girl,” Mom greeted her. “Did you have fun last night?”
As the night wore on she’d been distracted from her misery. That probably counted as fun, so she said, “Yes.”
“Looks like you could use some coffee,” Mom said, and led her into the kitchen.
“How’s my baby?” Jenna asked.
“She’s good. She just got in the shower. We stayed up late last night.”
Jenna settled at the kitchen table. “What did she think of your taste in movies?”
“She was impressed, naturally. Every girl should have to watch Pretty in Pink and Jane Eyre.”
“And?” Jenna prompted.
“Okay, so I showed her Grease. It’s a classic.”
“About hoods and ho’s.”
“I don’t know how you can say that about an iconic movie,” Mom said. “Anyway, I explained a few things to her, so it came with a moral.”
“What? You, too, can look like Olivia Newton John?”
Mom shrugged. “Something like that. Now, tell me. What all did you girls do?”
“Not much. We just went out for dinner.”
“Dinner is nice,” Mom said, and set a cup of coffee in front of Jenna. She pulled a bottle of Jenna’s favorite caramel flavored creamer from the fridge and set it on the table and watched while Jenna poured in a generous slosh. “I know this is going to be the beginning of a wonderful new year for you.”
“I have no way to go but up.”
“That’s right. And you know…”
“Every storm brings a rainbow,” Jenna finished with her.
“I firmly believe that.”
And Mom should know. She’d had her share of storms. “I don’t know how you did it,” Jenna said. “Surviving losing dad when we were so young, raising us single-handedly.”
“Hardly single-handedly. I had Gram and Gramps and Grandma and Grandpa Jones, as well. Yes, we each have to fight our own fight, but God always puts someone in our corner to help us.”
“I’m glad you’re in my corner,” Jenna said. “You’re my hero.”
Jenna had been almost five and Celeste a baby when their father had been killed in a car accident. Sudden, no chance for her mom to say good-bye. There was little that Jenna remembered about her father beyond sitting on his shoulders when they milled with the crowd at the Puyallup Fair or stood watching the Seafair parade in downtown Seattle, that and the scrape of his five o’clock shadow when he kissed her goodnight.
What stuck in her mind most was her mom, holding her on her lap, sitting at this very kitchen table and saying to Gram, “He was my everything.”
That read well in books, but maybe in real life it wasn’t good to make a man your everything. Even the good ones left you.
At least her dad hadn’t left voluntarily. Her mom had chosen a good man. So had Gram, whose husband was also gone now. Both women had picked wisely and knew what good looked like.
Too bad Jenna hadn’t listened to them when they tried to warn her about Damien. “Honey, there’s no hurry,” Mom had said.
Yes, there was. She’d wanted to be with him NOW.
“Are you sure he’s what you really want?” Gram had asked. “He seems a little…”
“What?” Jenna had prompted.
“Egotistical,” Gram had ventured.
“He’s confident,” Jenna had replied. “There’s a difference.”
“Yes, there is,” Gram had said. “Are you sure you know what it is?” she’d added, making Jenna scowl.
“I’m just not sure he’s the right man for you,” Mom had worried.
“Of course, he is,” Jenna had insisted, because at twenty-three she knew it all. And Damien had been so glamorous, so exciting. Look how well their names went together – Damien and Jenna, Jenna and Damien. Oh, yes, perfect.
And so it was for a time… until she began to see the flaws. Gram had been right, he was egotistical. Narcissistic. Irresponsible. Those flaws she could live with. Those she did live with. But then came the one flaw she couldn’t accept. Unfaithful.
Not that he’d asked her to accept it. Not that he’d asked her to keep him. Or even to forgive him. “I can’t help how I feel,” he’d said.
That was it. Harsh reality came in like a strong wind and blew away the last of the fantasy.
But, here was Mom, living proof that a woman could survive the loss of her love, could climb out of the rubble after all her dreams collapsed and rebuild. She’d worked hard at a job that kept her on her feet all day and had still managed to make PTA meetings. She’d hosted tea parties when her girls were little and sleepovers when they became teenagers. And, in between all that, she’d managed to make time for herself, starting a book club with some of the neighbors. That book club still met every month. And Mom still found time for sleepovers, now with her granddaughter.
Surely, if her mom could overcome the loss of her man, Jenna could overcome the loss of what she’d thought her man was.
Mom smiled at her and slid a card-sized envelope across the table. “Happy birthday.”
“You already gave me my birthday present,” Jenna said. Mom had given her a motivational book about new beginnings by Muriel Sterling with a fifty-dollar bill tucked inside. Jenna would read the book (once she was ready to face the fact that she did, indeed, have to make a new beginning) and she planned to hoard the fifty like a miser. You could buy a lot of lentils and beans with fifty bucks.
“This isn’t from me. It’s from your Aunt Edie.”
“Aunt Edie?”
She hadn’t seen her great aunt in years, but she had fond memories of those childhood summer visits with her at Moonlight Harbor – beach combing for agates, baking cookies with Aunt Edie while her parrot Jolly Roger squawked all the silly things Uncle Ralph had taught him, listening to the waves crash as she lay in the old antique bed in the guest room at night with her sister. She remembered digging clams with Uncle Ralph, sitting next to her mother in front of a roaring beach fire, using her arm to shield her face from the heat of the flame as she roasted a hot dog. Those visits had been as golden as the sunsets.
But after getting together with Damien, life had filled with drama and responsibilities, and, after one quick visit, the beach town on the Washington Coast had faded into a memory. Maybe she’d spend that birthday money Mom had given her and go see Aunt Edie.
She pulled the card out of the envelope. All pastel flowers and birds, the outside read For a Lovely Niece. The inside had a sappy poem telling her she was special and wishing her joy in everything she did, and was signed, Love,Aunt Edie. No Uncle Ralph. He’d been gone for several years.
Aunt Edie had stuffed a letter inside the card. The writing was small, like her aunt. But firm, in spite of her age.
Dear Jenna,
I know you’ve gone through some very hard times, but I also know that like all the women in our family, you are strong and you’ll come through just fine.
Your grandmother told me you could use a new start and I would like to give it to you. I want you to come to Moonlight Harbor and help me revamp and run The Driftwood Inn. Like me, it’s getting old and it needs some help. I plan to bequeath it to you on my death. The will is already drawn up, signed and witnessed, so I hope you won’t refuse my offer.
Of course, I know your cousin Winston would love to get his grubby mitts on it, but he won’t. The boy is useless. And besides, you know I’ve always had a soft spot for you in my heart. You’re a good girl who’s always been kind enough to send Christmas cards and homemade fudge for my birthday. Uncle Ralph loved you like a daughter. So do I, and since we never had children of our own you’re the closest thing I have to one. I know your mother and grandmother won’t mind sharing.
Please say you’ll come.
Love, Aunt Edie
Jenna hardly knew what to say. “She wants to leave me the motel.” She had to be misreading.
She checked again. No, there it was, in Aunt Edie’s tight little scrawl.
FTC: I received a free copy of this book from Litfuse in exchange for my honest review. I received no other compensation and the opinions expressed in this review are one hundred percent true and my own.
His Risk by Shelley Shepard Gray was a good book but for this first time this wasn’t one of my favorites by this author. I always knew that this day would probably come that I read a book by her that I didn’t like, and this book is that for me. I didn’t like this book because it seemed to far-fetched for me. This book was well written I just had a hard time believing that Calvin started out life as Amish and then ended up being an informant. I just seemed like a huge jump and that made it hard for me to believe. Other than that, though it was a good book and I really liked Alice throughout the entire book. I am sure the most people would enjoy this book it just wasn’t a good fit for me.
About The Book
An undercover English DEA agent will do anything to protect the Amish girl he loves.
Calvin Fisher left the Amish community at fourteen and never looked back. Only his brother’s illness can bring him back to Hart County. Now, as Calvin works to make amends, he meets Alice, a local nursery school teacher, and falls hard for her. But he has a secret that could threaten the happiness he’s finally found.
Alice shouldn’t like-or want-Calvin. He’s English, has a questionable past, and an even more questionable job. Still, she can’t help being intrigued. Though Calvin assures Alice that he’s worthy of her, she’s torn between surrendering to her growing feelings and steering clear of him.
When a sudden surge of criminal activity alarms the community and even targets Alice, Calvin fears that his double life has put everyone he loves at risk. As for Alice, she can’t help but wonder if the brave and honorable man she’s lost her heart to is far more dangerous than she could ever imagine.
About The Author
Shelley Shepard Gray is a “New York Times” and “USA Today” bestselling author, a finalist for the American Christian Fiction Writers prestigious Carol Award, and a two-time HOLT Medallion winner. She lives in southern Ohio, where she writes full-time, bakes too much, and can often be found walking her dachshunds on her town’s bike trail.
Find out more about Shelley at http://www.shelleyshepardgray.com.
We are excited to share HELPING HER REMEMBER by Kate Carley. Fans of second-chance romance will find this heartwarming story of redemption. Follow the tour for exclusive excerpts, reviews, and a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card + three runner-ups will get an ebook copy of HELPING HER REMEMBER.
Title: Helping Her Remember
Author: Kate Carley
Release Date: February 26, 2018
Publisher: Self-published
Series: The Crawford Falls Series
Genres: Contemporary Romance
Page Count: 265
Kelly’s back.
How can two simple words make Dylan Bronstad’s heart ache and sing at the same time?
Even seven years ago, Kelly Anne Leeson had possessed that power. Back then, all Dylan wanted to do was drink and make love to her. Really, it was no wonder she’d climbed out of his bed and walked out of his life, leaving him with nothing but a nasty hangover and the lonely memories of their time together.
Today, Dylan’s life is on track. He’s sober with the support of his family and his tight-knit group of friends. But Kelly could derail all he’s worked to accomplish. Unfortunately, he can’t seem to stay away from her.
Lured by the offer of her dream job, Kelly returns home to Crawford Falls and the friends she’d abandoned a lifetime ago. Mending those broken relationships will require some honest answers and a fair amount of forgiveness.
But facing Dylan will take a lot more—like maybe a suit of armor to protect her battle-weary heart and the secret she fears she’ll never be able to keep.
While Kelly searches for a way to maintain the safe life she’s created for her son, Dylan works to remind her of the relationship they once had.
Just as they rekindle their relationship, secrets and half-truths threaten to destroy everything.
“Isn’t that your turn?” she asked, huffing embarrassingly loud when they passed the county road and made their way up a fairly steep incline.
“I’m running you home.”
“Don’t need to. I’m a big girl, you know?” Kelly could feel his lazy perusal from her head down to her toes and back again. She was sweaty and gross, and he was checking her out. Unbelievable.
“Mmm. Yes, I know,” he said.
They ran in silence the rest of the way, because it was just too damn hard for her to talk. And he knew it. When they reached the top of the hill and turned onto her street, he said, “Let’s cool down.” They slowed their pace to a casual walk. “I never get to run with anyone. That was nice.”
“But you cut your run short for me. And it’s obvious, you’re in far better shape than I am, given that you can actually talk and run at the same time.”
Dylan just laughed at her comment, clasping his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together. “Go out with me, Kelly Anne. I’ve missed you, and I really want to get to know you again.”
The feel of his hand in hers and that sweet invitation sent a familiar surge of excitement through her. Kelly’s heart squeezed and her stomach did that little flip-flop rollercoaster thing again. As always, her body seemed to respond so naturally to Dylan’s attention. Or perhaps foolishly was a more appropriate definition of her response. While he apparently had warm memories of their time together, to her their relationship had been like watching an incredible firework display—spectacular, bright, loud—and then she’d been plunged into a dark, silent night all alone.
Kelly came to a stop near the side of her mom’s house and turned to face him, sucking in a deep breath and trying to ignore the nice hum of arousal playing through her body. “Jesse’s your best friend, right?” She didn’t wait, because she knew the answer. “Do you hold his hand like this when the two of you are together?” Classic Dylan reaction. He burst into laughter and then released her hand to give her a brief hug. When he stepped back, he wore that expression that generally got him exactly what he wanted. Kelly sighed and shook her head. “No, Dylan. I’m not interested in dating.”
Dylan moved in closer, tilting her chin up with one finger so she’d be forced to meet his eyes. Why did he insist on touching her like that? It did crazy things to her brain, not to mention the fact that it all but melted her resolve. “You’re kidding me. Come on, Kelly Anne. We were great together. Why not try it again?”
Because I know my heart will never survive.
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Three Runner-ups will win a HELPING HER REMEMBER eBook!
How Kate Carley went from majoring in mathematics and computer science in college to writing steamy contemporary romance still remains a mystery. She broke out into the indie publishing scene in 2015 with her debut novel, Challenged, a 2017 RONE award winner. Two more books completed her romantic suspense trilogy, Changing Krysset. With three published works under her belt, Kate is excited to launch her new contemporary romance series. Just like her first novels, the Crawford Falls series is set in a small town in Kate’s home state of Minnesota. When Kate isn’t busy at her desk writing, you’ll find her dreaming up new characters and plotting perfect ways to make their lives miserable before giving them their happily ever after.
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