In a Gothic mansion on a windy coast, former soldier Dixie Reeves and her client, billionaire Andrew Stratford, are in grave danger.
The single dad has hired her to help him protect his daughter from a mysterious threat. As their enemy closes in, even tough-as-nails Dixie has to hold her nerveand keep her guard up to stop herself from falling for Andrew and his adorable little girl. The long nights pass, and Dixie and her handsome boss can't deny they're barreling toward the kind of love that changes lives. That is, if they can somehow keep their instant family safe from the danger at the door!
A little bit of spooky with ghost stories, a lot of intrigue with a treasure hunt and old mansion with secret hallways, and lots of love between three broken people in desperate need of healing are the makings of this tale. A final episode, so to say, to a well-loved series where most of the previous characters get to visit for a minute of two, and Andrew, the stockbroker, gets his chance with a mending of wounds inside and finding happiness.
All three of the main characters Andrew, Dixie, and Andrew's daughter Leigha have a form of PTSD from their former times. The past events were glanced over just enough to explain them to the reader. I enjoyed the instant connection and development of the relationship between Andrew and Dixie, yet I wished they would have spent a little bit more time reconstructing themselves from the past. Both Andrew and Dixie are slightly intimidating, yet easy to be around with, and so obviously falling for each other. Andrew's daughter has them both wrapped around her little finger, and the trio soon form a family unit. I loved watching both Andrew and Dixie just melt when it came to anything to do with Leigha. Leigha was an absolute delight, with her ghostly friend and loyal dog, they provided the entertainment and light fun to the story. The suspenseful attacks towards the characters, the excitement of the possible treasure, mixed with Andrew's family history was enchanting and fascinating. The book was easy to read and had a nice flow to it. I felt that most of the issues got an easy solution, and were treated lightly, but that didn't dim the pleasure of the story or the entertainment of the tale. ~ Four Spoons
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In Your Arms
For Your Love #2 By: Shannyn Schroeder Releasing December 27, 2016 Zebra Shout
A KNIGHT IN SHINING LEATHER…
Sean O'Malley has never tried to hide who he is. He shows it in the motorcycle thrumming between the legs of his tight jeans…the shaggy hair that falls in his gorgeous eyes…the wicked gleam in his smile when he asks Emma out for a drink. Sean is a rebel, a bad boy, and a ton of fun: exactly the kind of guy she's sworn off forever. Emma isn't just the prim kindergarten teacher she appears to be. And somehow Sean can tell. As soon as he pulls up to her overheated car he knows that a fast bike and a cold beer will fix her rotten day better than compliments or a bubble bath. Her straitlaced exterior and her wild heart light him up. But Emma wants to escape her past and settle down—and if her desk jockey dates don't understand where she comes from, at least she doesn't worry about them bringing her back. One weekend of intense connection can't change the paths Sean and Emma have chosen. But with a little space to be themselves together, maybe the rest of the world can wait...
They climbed back on the motorcycle and left the parking lot. Sean drove them into a quiet residential neighborhood of single-family homes. Not an apartment in sight. Her radar immediately pinged. This was not a guy who had his shit together enough to own a house.
She could write a book on how to pick up the man-boy. Sean parked and she shoved the thought away. This was about the weekend. About her getting what she wanted—no, needed—for the moment. Then she’d go back to her real life and look for what she should have. What she really wanted. At least find a guy who was adult enough to not live at home with mom. Sean held her hand and pulled her to the back of the building. When he moved toward basement steps, she pulled from his grasp. “Where are we going?” “My place.” He hitched his chin in the direction of the door. “My room’s in the basement.” “What are you? Twelve?” “My brother Tommy and I have it set up as our own place.” She sighed. “Do you at least have your own bedroom? Or am I supposed to screw you with an audience?” He laughed and reached for her hip. His voice dropped into the sexy range. “While I share a lot of things with my brother, a woman isn’t one.” Then he turned and pushed her toward the steps leading upstairs. “We can have a drink upstairs first so you can see I’m not a crazy guy looking to lock you in my basement.” She laughed a little at that. For a bad boy, Sean was pretty adept at reading things. He opened the back door and flicked on the light, flooding the kitchen. As he locked up, she saw how beat up his hand was. His knuckles were red and swollen. She winced. “You should ice your hand.” Sean reached into the refrigerator and handed her a bottle of beer. With his own bottle in one hand, he grabbed a bag of frozen green beans with the other. Emma took his beer from him and opened it. He flexed his hand and looked at it as if he hadn’t noticed before. “No big deal.” But it was a big deal. She’d been in similar situations too many times to recall. Her mom had taught her to smile and laugh it off, but Emma had never been able to do that. It rattled her every time. Memories of the guy pressing against her, trapping her, washed over her now. From deep in her bones, she felt every part of her start to tremble. To cover it, she gulped some beer. She gripped the bottle tightly as she set it on the table and took a seat across from Sean. He watched her closely. “You sure that guy didn’t do anything to you? I mean, other than get in your face?” She shook her head and didn’t like the way the room started to spin, so she answered, “No.” “You look really upset.” “I’m fine. Are we going downstairs or what?” Right now, she’d give almost anything to forget this day. She pushed off the table, wobblier than she’d thought she was. Sean stood, still eyeing her, and tossed his vegetables back in the freezer. She finished her beer and suddenly realized the goldfish crackers she’d eaten in her car were the closest thing she’d had to dinner. No wonder the alcohol had hit so hard. Sean grabbed her hand and led her downstairs. The basement was mostly unfinished. Concrete floor and walls. A washer and dryer sat against one side. Sean pulled her toward the back of the basement. Actually, the front of the house. There, crudely constructed walls divided the space. He pointed toward the corner. “That’s the bathroom. Tommy’s room is next to it. This one’s mine,” he added with his hand on the doorknob. She snickered. “This is your idea of having it set up like an apartment?” “It’s better than a mattress on the floor or sleeping on the living room couch.” The last remark hit home because that was exactly where she’d found Nicky more often than she cared to consider. So at least Sean was a step up from her loser brother.
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For a few years now, I’ve been developing my process for writing a book, especially since I’m not a plotter. I can’t outline a book before I write. One of things I do that I find really helps ground me in a book is having a playlist. I create the playlist before I ever write a word. I choose songs based on what I know about the characters and the arc of the story. Sometimes I choose songs that still fit by the time the book is done, other times, not so much. Once the playlist is created, I listen to it almost nonstop before writing (to the point of annoying my children) and every time I sit down to write.
It’s been almost a year and a half since I drafted In Your Arms and I have to say this is one of the best playlists I’ve ever created. It still holds up for the characters and the book. It’s also one of my favorite lists. It’s mostly fun and upbeat, just like the book. If I had to choose just one song to represent the book as a whole, it would have to be Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon. It’s all about being attracted and belonging together, but she holds back and he knows it. Running a close second would be Bad Enough for You by All Time Low because Sean knows that Emma loves his bad boy side. It’s what she’s drawn to, and she doesn’t really want him to be nice to her.
Shannyn Schroeder is the author of the O’Leary series, contemporary romances centered around a large Irish-American family in Chicago and the Hot & Nerdy series about 3 nerdy friends finding love. Her new series (For Your Love) will release this summer with the first title Under Your Skin. When she’s not wrangling her three kids or writing, she watches a ton of TV and loves to bake cookies.
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
Romancing Dr. Love
Sterling University #1 By: Rebecca Heflin Releasing March 7, 2017 Self-Published
Dr. Samantha Love says it’s all about the chemistry. A brainy psychology professor and researcher, Sam has based her entire academic career on the theory that what we call love is simply a chemical reaction. She is currently running a study to prove that her compatibility blood test reveals perfect matches—sort of like an organ donor, but for relationships. No romance required.
Along comes sexy literature professor, Dr. Ethan Quinn, who says it’s all about the romance. He thinks the pretty psychology professor has taken love and all its mysteries and reduced it to something as romantic as a cholesterol test, and he sets out to prove her theory wrong. When Ethan signs up for her study, Sam discovers to her horror, that according to her compatibility test, they are a perfect match. Sam faces an existential crisis over her career and her research. If she believes in her science, shouldn’t it follow that she believes Ethan is her perfect mate? And if she doesn’t believe he’s her perfect mate, doesn’t that bring into question her research? Her compatibility test? Her reputation? And her very career? As Sam struggles with her dilemma, Ethan pursues her with all the romantic tactics in his arsenal. Will Sam’s theories succumb to his challenge? Or will Ethan lose the battle for Sam’s heart?
“No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening,” Samantha Love muttered as she gently banged her head against the steering wheel.
She turned the key again. Nothing. Not even a wheeze. This was the icing on the cake of her otherwise craptastic day. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. And another one between her girls. God, she hated boob sweat. When she’d taken the research and teaching position at Sterling University in North Georgia last fall, she’d never have guessed the summer would be so hot. Throwing open the door of her car to let in even more stifling heat, she searched for the lever to pop the hood. Finally locating it, she pulled it, then walked around to the front of the car. As if she knew what to do. Just as she leaned under the hood to jiggle some wire thingies, she heard, “Dr. Love? Do you need some help?” She let out a startled squeak hitting her head on the underside of the hood. “Ow!” Rubbing the offended spot, she turned and saw Ethan Quinn standing there looking all adorable. Not to mention manly. Dammit. Why did it have to be him? “No. I’m fine.” Yeah, right. For all her parents’ preaching on women and self-sufficiency, she didn’t know a dipstick from a spark plug when it came to cars. She turned back to the mystery parts under the hood. “You need a jump.” “I beg your pardon?” She spun, hand on her hip. “Your battery.” He pointed in the direction of her open hood. “It probably needs a jump.” “Oh. Right.” Of course he meant her battery. What else would he be talking about? “I have jumper cables in my car. I’ll have you going in a few minutes.” “He’ll have me going in a few minutes,” she mumbled under her breath as she watched him walk to the far corner of the parking lot. Tall, athletic build, dark-wash jeans, white button-down shirt. And that hair. Tousled espresso-brown waves just brushing the top of his collar. “He’s already got me going,” she said to herself. He tossed his messenger bag in the car and climbed in. And, of course, his car started. Because that’s what cars did. They started when you turned the key. Then they blew cold air, so you didn’t have to stand in the mid-July Georgia heat. Unless they dated back to the Stone Age like hers. Another bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. She released a wistful sigh. Bet the AC felt good. He pulled his recent model American-made car around to face hers and then got out to pop the hood. Walking around to the trunk, he opened it and grabbed a set of jumper cables, looking like he knew what he was doing. Good thing somebody around here did. “It’s a hot one today,” Ethan commented, as he connected one of the clamp doohickeys to what she assumed was the car battery. His sleeves were rolled up over his forearms, displaying muscles with a light dusting of hair. Clamping the other end of the cables to his own battery, he then returned to her car. When he walked past her, his cologne wafted to her nose, temporarily erasing her angst at being in his presence. Then he touched his hand to her back. And the anxiety returned tenfold. “Stand clear.” He leaned into the gaping mouth of the car and attached the remaining clamp, throwing a spark. “All right. Let’s see if we can get this baby going.” He climbed into the driver’s seat of his car and turned it on. “Give her a try,” he hollered over the din of his car’s running motor. Sam dropped into the front seat and turned the key. The older-than-dirt engine tried but couldn’t work up enough energy to turn over. “Hold on,” Ethan called, then revved his car. “Okay, try her again.” Her car wheezed then reluctantly cranked a couple of times before coming to life. Ethan was at her door, leaning over, hands braced on the roof. “Great. Let her run a bit, then I’ll disconnect the cables.” A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “My AC’s on full blast. Why don’t you sit in my car until yours is ready to go.” He stepped aside to give her room to get out. Sam felt as wilted as week-old lettuce, so against her better judgment she took him up on the offer. He opened the front passenger door of his shiny black Lincoln MKS—such a gentleman—and she sank into the leather seats and stuck her face in front of the vent. God, it felt good. The door closed with a solid thunk. Resisting the urge to wipe away the boob sweat, she settled for drying the perspiration on her face and neck. The car dipped as Ethan took a seat on the driver’s side before shutting the door and closing out the rest of the world. Music played softly in the background—something popular. The intimacy of being alone in the car with Ethan washed over her. “I’d offer you something cool to drink, but I don’t have anything.” She realized she hadn’t said a word in the last five minutes. “Thank you.” “No thanks necessary. You’d do the same for me.” “No, I wouldn’t.” She smiled. “I don’t know a thing about cars.” He nodded as a grin split his face. “Well, from the looks of your battery, you’re going to need a new one. I can follow you to Burt’s Automotive. He can have a replacement installed in fifteen minutes.” She shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out in any further.” “It’s no trouble. Besides, if you go straight home, I don’t think she’s going to start for you in the morning.” “Oh.” That would not be good. “She should be juiced up enough to get you to Burt’s. Stay here until I unhook the cables.” Ethan got out of the car and set to work. She’d steered clear of Ethan Quinn since the day she was introduced to the rest of the college faculty. The moment they shook hands she’d felt a connection. And from the look on his face, he’d felt it too. That flood of adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin one feels when there is a strong physical attraction. Relationships were complicated, but getting situated at a new university was already complicated enough. No. Being in close proximity to Ethan Quinn was a bad idea. So as much as she hated to leave the cool comfort of his car, she jumped out and got in her rolling oven before he could say otherwise.
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Rebecca Heflin is an award-winning author who has dreamed of writing romantic fiction since she was fifteen and her older sister snuck a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss' Shanna to her and told her to read it. Rebecca writes women's fiction and contemporary romance. When not passionately pursuing her dream, Rebecca is busy with her day-job as a practicing attorney.
Rebecca is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, RWA Contemporary Romance, and Florida Writers Association. She and her mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida. Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
It looked so good on camera…
If it weren't for the money, Spencer Longfellow would happily drive Natasha Stevens and her TV crew right off his ranch. But his land, and his kids, mean the world to him—and he'll do anything to secure their future. Even cohost Natasha's cooking show, Family Secrets, in his barn. Even play the token hunky cowboy to her sophisticated city slicker and flirt with her on national television… It could never amount to anything real anyway. After all, he was fooled and left in the dust by a city girl once. And he will never let that happen to him—or his kids—again.
A Loving and appealing story about parenthood, from its good days and triumphs, to its challenges and demands. Spencer would have done anything to his twins, to keep them safe, to provide for them, and protect them. There was no question of his affection and care for his children.
Natasha felt like she wasn't built for a loving, lasting relationship, but her commitment to her career was enough to keep her challenged and satisfied with her life. The story is well written and flows nicely off the pages. The pacing of the tale is a bit slow for my taste, but you really get the feeling of the struggles the characters goes through and the lessons they learn through their journey. The setting of the story is very different from the norm when it comes to romance novels. I would actually rather characterize this as a women's lit instead of a romance novel. Even though Spencer and Natasha are attracted to each other, through most of the book Spencer is dating other women, or a woman and looking for others for his project to find a wife. I have never liked the third person 'drama' in my romance novels, and even though it wasn't so much in your face 'cheating', it was still a triangle were feelings did get hurt. Regardless, the story is well done and gives an insight to the cooking reality show with plenty of details, as well as into the beef industry and farming. I enjoyed the twins and the determination Spencer had to be the best parent he ever could have been. The characters were well thought out and the journey they were on gave the opportunity to get to know them thoroughly. ~ Three Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
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The Rule Maker
The Rule Breakers #2 By: Jennifer Blackwood Releasing January 16, 2016. Entangled Embrace
Ten Steps to Surviving a New Job:
1. Don’t sleep with the client. It’ll get you fired. (Sounds easy enough.) 2. Don’t blink when new client turns out to be former one-night stand. 3. Don’t call same client a jerk for never texting you back. 4. Don’t believe client when he says he really, really wanted to call. 5. Remember, the client is always right—so you can’t junk punch him when he demands new design after new design. 6. Ignore accelerated heartbeat every time sexy client walks into room. 7. Definitely ignore client’s large hands. They just mean he wears big gloves. 8. Don’t let client’s charm wear you down. Be strong. 9. Whatever you do, don’t fall for the client. You’ll lose more than your job—maybe even your heart. 10. If all else fails, see rule number one again.
He scrubbed his palms over his face and rested his elbows on his knees. “This was not how I saw this night going.”
“Big Valentine’s Day plans?” He lowered his hands and looked at me like I’d just claimed I single-handedly caused the storm raging outside. “I didn’t even know that was today. Does this mean we’re each other’s valentines by default?” I scoffed. “Not a chance.” He chuckled. “Always so blunt. I like that about you.” He quickly cleared his throat as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “Well, non-valentine, looks like we’re going to be stuck here a while. Have anything in mind?” he said. I decided against packing on another insult. He was being nice, and this sure as heck beat staring at the wall the rest of the night. “My form of entertainment is at 6 percent battery, so I’m open to suggestions.” “Mine is fully charged. Want to watch something?” “Sure.” What else did I have to do? Before I knew it, I was sitting on the bed next to him, leaning against the ornately carved headboard. Snow gusting against the window was the only sound in the room as he searched for a show for us to watch. So quiet. Way too quiet. I fidgeted with my necklace, moving the small diamond back and forth on the chain. The last time I was in bed with Ryder… I didn’t even want to finish that thought, because it’d do nothing but make this situation worse. I chanced a peek in his direction. He chewed the inside of his cheek, swiping through our options. “This is awkward, huh?” he said. “We’ve achieved Urkel status.” He chuckled and scrolled through the show queue. “Would you rather watch Law and Order: SVU or Criminal Minds?” “That is quite possibly the worst Would You Rather question ever asked.” His eyes cut to mine. “I didn’t know I was playing a game.” “You’ve never played it?” He shook his head. Lainey and I played this game all the time in college, and when we’d take road trips together. She always came up with the grossest ones. “It’s simple. All you have to do is ask the person which horrible thing they’d rather do. The harder the question, the better. Like would you rather lay in a pit of snakes, or eat questionably dead roadkill?” I pointed to his phone. “Oh, John Tucker Must Die. I like that one.” “Negative, ghost rider.” He scrolled past my suggestion. “And what the hell does questionably dead mean? Is it still twitching, or are we talking suspicious cause of death?” I shrugged. “The interpretation’s up to you.” “You’re absolutely no help.” He swiped his thumb across his beard and contemplated. “I guess I’d go with the snakes.” “Okay, now it’s your turn,” I said. “Do I really have to play? I thought we were picking a show.” I shot him a look. “Fine. Would you rather have me or Chewbacca as your valentine?” “Too easy. The spider.” He put his hand to his heart. “You wound me.” “Stop being such a baby.” I swatted at his chest and immediately pulled my hand back. Nope. Would not go there. “Okay, would you rather not be able to see or talk for a month?” He answered instantly. “See.” “Right. You’d probably go nuts if you couldn’t open that big mouth of yours.” His lips twitched. “You’re one to talk.” “Excuse me?” Okay, I did have a tough time keeping my thoughts on lockdown outside the office, but that was my own cross to bear. “Don’t even try to play it off like you’re innocent.” I’d dated a lot of losers in the past, most who hadn’t even bothered to get to know me, but even after only hanging out a few times, Ryder had me pegged. He was perceptive. I saw the look in his eyes whenever I dealt with Jason. His attention focused solely on me was unnerving. “Jerk,” I sputtered. “Now I know you’re holding back. You can do way better than that.” He scrolled through his phone again. “How about Die Hard?” “Are all your show selections about death? I’m starting to worry I made a mistake coming over here.” My lips pulled into a smile and I quickly extinguished it. God, I wanted to hate him. “Fine.” He continued looking at the Netflix queue. “Would you rather eat sushi from a taco stand, or lick an airplane armrest?” “Good one. Sushi.” I pointed to his screen. “How about 10 Things I Hate About You?” He shook his head and chuckled. “Are all of your suggestions going to not-so-subtly tell me you hate me?” I smiled sweetly. “Maybe.” “Just think, most people would find this to be a romantic escape. Two people, stuck in the mountains on Valentine’s Day,” he said. “We’re Hallmark movie material, all right,” I deadpanned. “Okay, fine. How about The Walking Dead?” “Your show picking powers have been officially revoked.” I grabbed the phone from his hand. “Hey!” He grabbed for the phone, and I held it out of reach. “You’re going to regret that.” Within seconds he was on top of me, playfully pinning me to the bed, his strong hands circling my wrists. Air evaporated from my lungs as our gazes connected. I was immediately transported back to that night. Tell me what you want, Zoey. Tell me what you need from me. I swallowed hard. That was months ago, and those words still haunted me from time to time. Because he did exactly that, gave me what I wanted and needed. Repeatedly.
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Jennifer Blackwood is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. She lives in Oregon with her husband, son, and poorly behaved black lab puppy. When not chasing after her toddler, you can find her binging on episodes of Gilmore Girls and Supernatural, and locking herself in her office to write.
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