Forgotten Promises
By: Jessica Lemmon Released January 19th, 2016 Loveswept
In an edgy, seductive novel hailed by Rachel Van Dyken as “unique and gripping,” Jessica Lemmon introduces the ultimate bad boy . . . and a love that crosses all boundaries.
Morgan Young had a perfect upbringing, and now she’s got a perfect boyfriend and a perfect future—until her twenty-first birthday changes everything. First Morgan finds out, in the most painful way possible, that her relationship is a sham. But that’s nothing compared to the nightmare about to unfold. It’s too late for Tucker Noscalo. A brutal childhood left him with a bad reputation and a criminal record. Fresh out of jail, Tucker has a score to settle with Baybrook’s crooked chief of police—his own father. Nobody will believe Tucker’s explosive accusations without proof and a good lawyer, neither of which he has on his side. Until he sees someone he used to know, someone who just so happens to be the daughter of the best lawyer in the county. He needs Morgan to convince her father of the ugly truth. But first he has to convince her, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get her to listen. Confronted by the story of Tucker’s dark past, Morgan feels utterly compelled to help him. And as their connection grows into a fierce bond fueled by raw passion, Morgan finds herself falling for the wrong guy—but never has the promise of love felt so right.
Tucker
Things aren’t exactly going my way. My breath burns heavy and hot in my lungs as I run. And run and run and run. Not that I should have expected them to go smoothly. After years spent under my father’s command or seeking freedom from it, it’s eerily unsurprising to find I’ve landed myself in this much trouble just one day after getting released from prison. Yeah. I said prison. But I didn’t belong there. I don’t intend on going back. Working out in the yard at Baybrook Penitentiary, jogging the perimeter every chance I got, has paid off. Blood is drying on my shirt, the sting of broken flesh on my knuckles a physical reminder of what I am capable of. I dig deep and find the strength to run faster. Now to find a car. I had a friend when I was on the outside. He owed me a favor. I cut across a yard and skirt a big wooden playground set with brightly colored plastic tubes and slides, wondering what it might have been like to grow up in a house like this. I wonder if the kids were protected. Safe. Loved. But I don’t have time to do a postmortem on my childhood. Praying no one is looking out of a window, I leap a fence to an attached apartment complex and land on my feet on a crumbling pile of asphalt. The weeds are overgrown, the trees scraggly. There is junk in the yard and garbage in the lot proving that the people who live here don’t give a shit about appearances. Or much of anything. People like us have our reasons for feeling that way. If Lady Luck is any friend at all, she’ll shine on me, and Mark’s Dodge Charger will be parked in exactly the same spot as when he and I used to break laws together. Minor laws. We didn’t kill anybody or anything. I slink past a few other cars parked under a dilapidated awning, and spot Mark’s Dodge, Chelsea (named for an ex-girlfriend), parked outside of his garage. Similar to the real Chelsea, the car is dull and kind of dirty. But for my needs, the car may as well have a light from heaven shining upon her. This is a blessing when I need one most. I calm my walk as I approach his driveway, edging along grass that needs mowed and taking a peek through a pair of partially open shabby curtains. My former good buddy is sprawled on his couch snoring, mouth wide open. I wonder if he was able to keep his job at the gravel pit, or if he was fired for one of many reasons he’d been fired from everywhere else. I smile as I remember the fun we had together. Feels like about a hundred years ago, even though it’s been more like two. “Fun” had been a rare commodity in my world back then, and right about now it is extinct. I consider knocking on his door, asking if I can borrow Chelsea, but I don’t consider for long. The debate lasts exactly two seconds before I turn away from Mark’s window and walk to the car I’m about to appropriate for myself. She’s unlocked so I slide onto the seat and palm the steering wheel, ignoring the sting on my knuckles as I grip the wheel. I haven’t driven a car in a while—not since I stole my father’s Explorer one fated night, and being in the driver’s seat sends a rush of intoxicating freedom surging through my veins. Freedom I can’t allow to be taken from me. Not again. Not ever. I am prepared to hot-wire her, a handy trick, but then check the glove compartment—the stupidest place to keep a set of keys second only to the visor. There, beneath the expired registration is a key taped to the vinyl cover of the owner’s manual. Jackpot. Before my luck runs out—given the way every other damn thing has worked out tonight, it very well might—I jam the key in the ignition and turn over her blubbering engine. Loud. Way too fucking loud. As I back out of the driveway, Mark’s door swings open. He lumbers out, wearing boxers and nothing else, rubbing his eyes, his hair and beard scraggly. I stomp on the brakes and shift in to drive. Mark’s stark confusion fades and he smiles. It’s as good as getting his permission. I jerk my chin in a silent good-bye and gun the engine. The fuel gauge reads three-quarters full, plenty of gas to get me to the shittiest convenience store I can find. I need supplies for where I’m going and if the place is shady enough, the clerk won’t bat an eyelash at my T-shirt covered in blood. One hand gripping the wheel, I keep my eyes on the road while searching the front and back for something to change into. Surely Mark has left a shirt or— My fingers curl around something cool and slick in the back seat and I pull it into my lap. The dark leather smells like pot, and has seen better days—like the nineties—but the jacket will have to do. At least it’ll cover my shirt. My bleeding knuckles, however . . . I shake my hand out as I pass a Waffle House, several semis parked in the lot, the inside well lit—a little too well lit. Stopping even briefly to wash my hands is tempting, but risky. I settle for the napkins I spotted in the glove compartment when I was digging for the keys. Alternating hands on the steering wheel, I wipe as gently as possible, grateful that most of the blood isn’t mine and consider I’m luckier than I gave myself credit for a moment ago. My father was always a fighter. I’ve seen him take down a man twice my size—one who was out-of-his-mind high. I shouldn’t have been a challenge for him tonight, but I had the element of surprise. What I didn’t have was the proof I went to my childhood home to reclaim. The videotape that would exchange mine and my father’s places in the eyes of the law and anyone with a functioning conscious. The plan was to send him to prison, not send myself back. It was time. Jeremy is gone. Mom is safely out of the country. But now . . . now I don’t know what the hell to do. Without proof of what he’s done, it’s my word against my father’s, and there’s no doubt who the masses will believe. I have no idea how I’m going to get that tape. It isn’t as if I can go back and ring the doorbell. It’s not like I can go to the police and plead my side of the story. There isn’t much sympathy for the ex-con who beats the police chief unconscious. Especially when the police chief is his father.
A former job-hopper, Jessica Lemmon resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing super-sexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.
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Pushing Her Luck
Lucky in Love #1 By: Audra North Releasing May 9, 2016 Self-Published
He says she’s a nuisance. She thinks he’s a jerk. Together they might be the perfect match.
Riordan Faraday is about to reach his breaking point. He’s got art classes to teach, a needy mum to care for, and most importantly, a painting to finish. But without time or inspiration, he hasn’t been able to paint a thing and it’s driving him mad. So when a silly American girl shows up on his doorstep with a wild proposal, he shoots her down perhaps a bit more harshly than she deserves…but it’s for the best. He can’t afford any more distractions at the moment, especially not beautiful brown-eyed ones. Samantha Meyer—Sam, to her friends—is on a mission to find her late grandmother’s necklace. The long-lost piece of jewelry is the only thing she has left of Gram and Sam is determined to see that dream fulfilled before she returns home to New Jersey and takes up the reins of the family business. But she wasn’t counting on a sexy, surly painter to stand in her way.
Bing bing!
Riordan set down the palette with a growl. Even if he hadn’t already had a morning from hell, that goddamn doorbell would be much too cheerful-sounding. He made a mental note to get it changed, grabbed a rag from the easel, and stole one last irritated glance at the blank canvas in front of him. Bing bing! “Piss off,” he muttered under his breath. But, then, louder— “Yes, I’m coming!” He swiped the rag at the oil paint on his fingers as he walked toward the front door of his small cottage, but cleaning it off was nearly impossible without turpentine. Christ. He’d managed to paint absolutely nothing since February, yet here he was, about to answer the door to God knows whom with the stuff all over his hands simply from holding the palette. It made him feel like a fraud. Though, really, the person at the door was probably just Mum, coming ‘round again on his day off, in spite of him telling her time and again that he needed to get these paintings done and would it be really be such a lot of trouble to let him alone from time to time? Of course, there was also the once-a-year chance that it was the mother of one of his students, dropping by to suggest a much more thorough and intimate parent-teacher conference with him. He was the grade school art teacher, for shit’s sake. Whoever needed a parent-teacher conference over tempera paint and tissue paper collages? Except…no, it couldn’t be one of those ladies, since Frank McEvoy’s mum had already been by to try her hand at seducing Riordan this year, back in March. Riordan shuddered at the memory and prayed that this visit would not double the average annual number of inappropriate advances made on him by married women. He slid the bolt back. Turned the knob. Slowly pulled the door open… “Hi!” A pretty young woman stood on the other side, practically bouncing on her toes and grinning at him like he was supposed to have half a clue who she was. Wait. Oh God. Was he supposed to know? He took a second to study her. Long, strawberry blond hair gathered back in a ponytail that swayed back and forth as she bounced. Medium height. Young. Maybe twenty four? Twenty five? Though her apparent youth might simply be due to her being so chipper and wide-eyed. Wide brown eyes— Hmm, interesting. A ginger with brown eyes. Not a combination he’d been expecting, but the effect was striking. In fact, he revised his earlier judgment. She wasn’t pretty. She was quite pretty. Though a tad bit exuberant for his taste. Before he could so much as open his mouth to inform her that he had no idea who she was, she spoke again. “I’m Samantha Meyer. I’m from America. Which you can probably tell from my accent.” For some reason, she pointed to her mouth, which he supposed was to indicate the aforementioned atrocious American accent, but the motion had the added effect of calling attention to her rather plump, sweet lips. He found himself fighting the urge to subtly flex his arm muscles in a correspondent display. “I mean, I don’t think I have an accent. But I guess I do, for you. Since we’re in Ireland and all. Anyway, nice to meet you.” Were all Americans like this? The ones he saw on the telly didn’t seem half as daft. But then she blinked oddly, and it took him a second that she was holding out her hand, waiting for him to take it. Never let it be said that the Irish aren’t a hospitable lot. Slowly, he extended his own hand to meet hers, fingers curling around her small palm. Her skin was warm and her grip was firm, and for a brief moment, a shudder of arousal went through him at the contact. He still hadn’t said a word. “Oh, check that out!” She was staring down at their joined hands. What was she on about now? “You have paint on your hands. Are you a painter? I mean, an artist painter. Not a house painter. Though that’s cool, too! I’m not trying to say that’s a bad thing. I’m just curious because I used to want to be an artist painter but I really can’t even draw to save my life.” Good God. How was it possible for a person to natter on so? “I even failed art in fifth grade. I don’t know if you remember fifth grade, but it’s really, really hard to fail art when you’re that age.” She looked up at him, and it took a few beats of silence before he realized that she was finally, finally giving him a chance to reply. “Impossible, in fact,” he snapped. Her face fell, and she jerked her hand from his, looking stunned. Shit. He hadn’t intended to hurt her. Perhaps, if the muses had been a bit more charitable toward him this morning, he might have at least been polite. Possibly, if he hadn’t checked his e-mail immediately upon wakening and read that fantastically enraging message from Michael, he might have sent her on her way with a half-smile and a Have a good morning, then. But as it was, this…American—who wasn’t his mother, who wasn’t offering him sex, and who seemed to be completely ignorant of the fact that one doesn’t go calling at half seven in the morning—had come to his home and interrupted his painting (fine, his attempt at painting) for no other purpose, it seemed, than to spout utter nonsense about accents and house painters. Though she was quite pretty.
Audra North is the contemporary romance author of the Pushing the Boundaries series from Samhain and the Hard Driving series from St. Martin’s.
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A tough cop with an even tougher past, Hunter Sloan has never let anyone stop him from getting what he wants—and he wants Evangeline Ambrose bad. With her gentle curves and raw vulnerability, Hunter’s beautiful, mysterious new neighbor awakens his protective side. Determined to do right by a woman who’s gone through hell and back, Hunter could be the one to take away the pain—so long as his own secrets don’t sink their relationship before it begins.
Having escaped an abusive marriage, Evangeline simply wants to start over in the small, quiet town of Forrestville. She’s also avoiding all contact with the opposite sex, because she just can’t trust her instincts when it comes to men—not even with the sinfully sexy cop next door. So why can’t she stop thinking about him? Hunter has darkness in his soul, and yet no one ever made her feel so safe. For all her best laid plans, Evangeline didn’t count on choices this hard—or temptation this hot.
A sweet, loving story, with deep issues, and a second chance in love, that made me swoon.
I admire how the difficult and delicate matter of spousal abuse was dealt with in this story. It is raw, real, yet handled with respect and dignity towards the survivors. It is taken seriously, but not made the main focus of the tale. Hunter, it is impossible not to fall in love with this courageous, brave, loyal, protective, sexy, sweet, animal loving man, who would do anything and everything for the woman he loves. He takes all the points home, all the way, every time. I think him and Evangeline are just perfect together. She is a true survivor, her bravery, maturity, and spunk left me in awe. She fights back her demons, is willing to face her future, and to make the most of it, not afraid of her past, the shadows of it still lurking around. They are hot, fun, and loving together, I like how there's no unnecessary, excess drama or angst. They have their problems to deal with, but they do just that, they talk, they find solutions, and they move on. I am not a fan of the first person point of view, in this tale, it is used by both the hero and heroine, and towards the end, I didn't even pay that much attention to it anymore. A beautiful love story, heroic at times, of finding your way again in life, starting anew, learning to trust, and love, and make the most of life, as it is happening to you. ~ Four Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
Tabloid drama isn’t Katelyn Wade’s style. The illegitimate daughter of a notorious tycoon, Katelyn has worked hard to build a successful business on her own terms. She doesn’t put much stock in the rumors that she’s being targeted by someone with a vendetta against her father—until one of her employees at her restaurant turns up dead. Suddenly, she can’t trust anyone. Especially not her new bartender, a man with an instinct for trouble . . . and a body made for sin.
Katelyn has no idea that Thorne Hudson is being paid to protect her. He certainly never meant to seduce her. Crossing professional lines never ends well, especially when the slightest distraction could put both their lives at risk. But even Thorne’s military resolve, honed by years of training, is no match for Katelyn’s undeniable sex appeal. And after one taste of her lush lips pushes him past the edge of temptation, Thorne aches to tell her the truth—just as soon as he knows she’s safe from harm.
The suspense of the story keeps building up, as the story unfolds, and danger and fear become too familiar companies for Katelyn. There's one positive thing, though, that Thorne seemed to arrive in town, to her place of business in the nick of time, and always there to protect her, and save her from trouble.
I liked the suspense part of the story. It is well plotted, and different layers unfolding kept the interest and intensity high, and the reader guessing about the results, and the culprit. Thorne's character is fascinating, he is solid, his protective, loyal, and fierce. And easy to trust, I gather, since Kate does that as soon as she meets him. With no reference, no questions asked, she gives him a job, accepts his constant presence, blindly has faith in him, even unprotected sex with him, without ever doubt in her mind. Yes, I had a hard time connecting with the heroine, for some reason I didn't care for her that much, she seemed to be focused on the wrong things, I wanted to shake her several times - 'focus'. Even though the plot was well thought out, the dialog didn't have the natural flow into it, that often carries the story forward seamlessly. I get distracted by it, was hoping it would smooth out eventually. So we have a well thought out suspense plot, with a hero that I couldn't help but admire, a heroine I wasn't that fond of, and dialog that made me think about the writing style instead of the tale itself... So for me, it hits right in the middle with ~ Three Spoons
Pierce Harrison--yes, that Pierce Harrison, black sheep of the wealthy Harrison clan--has come home to his family's luxurious Long Island compound.
The big question is why the dangerously sexy soccer star agreed to coach a kids' soccer team. His co-coach Abby McCord should be grateful. Instead she's fending off some seriously smoldering advances from the scandal-ridden athlete. Good thing bad boys are so not her type . . . Abby is definitely not lacking in passion, but the sweet-faced beauty needs to learn a thing or two about taking a team to the championship--and a whole lot about how to let a man into her once-broken heart. Pierce definitely knows how to make the moves, but will Abby trust that the bachelor the world has condemned as a scoundrel can settle down with the one woman who has taken hold of his heart?
I am a bit conflicted by this story. I liked some of the parts of it, but the ones I didn't like, where kind of a big deal, for me, so don't know what to think. But here's my thoughts..
Abby and Pierce have a connection, it is believable, and the attraction is obvious, on both sides. I had hard time connection with Abby, though. I think she is judgemental, and very stuck with her own preconceived opinion. Some of the dialog was awkward, it was missing the flow, and it felt forced. I usually don't even talk about language on my reviews, because if there's bad language, it has to fit, and if it fits, then all is okay, it is part of the story. But this story has a lot of bad language, and every single time, it stood out, like out of place. I really have doubts a teacher would be using the kind of expressions, as often, as Abby is in the story. Just didn't fit. The family Pierce grew up in, and has to live with, is something from the nightmares. There's a heartbreaking scene in the story from a party, that brings up a conflict, and severe angst. The redemption that comes from the conflict saved a lot of the story for me. The ending brings it together, and because of it, I was able to give this tale ~ Three Spoons
Where family bonds are made and broken, and where young love sparks as old flames grow dim, Ransom Canyon is ready to welcome—and shelter—those who need it
With a career and a relationship in ruins, Jubilee Hamilton is left reeling from a fast fall to the bottom. The run-down Texas farm she's inherited is a far cry from the second chance she hoped for, but it and the abrasive foreman she's forced to hire are all she's got. Every time Charley Collins has let a woman get close, he's been burned. So Lone Heart ranch and the contrary woman who owns it are merely a means to an end, until Jubilee tempts him to take another risk—to stop resisting the attraction drawing them together despite all his hard-learned logic. Desperation is all young Thatcher Jones knows. And when he finds himself mixed up in a murder investigation, his only protection is the shelter of a man and woman who—just like him—need someone to trust.
Another lovely installment to the Ransom Canyon series. The story is told, like always in the series, by multiple points of view, with one couple, Charley and Jubilee in the front and center.
The story between Jubilee and Charley is a tale of survival, making your own destiny, finding your happiness at the moments you are in, and learning to love again, after life has kicked you to the curve too many times. Jubilee doesn't even believe she has a heart, so many times she has been left behind, and those bitter words have been thrown on her face. But they find a tune together, even though so opposite of each other, in personality, they learn to work together, share their dreams, goals, and future hopes, and somehow, manage to build a new family, a family of a heart, and a pack that sticks together no matter what they face. I absolutely adore them together, and their story is touching, tender, and delicate, yet it has moments of pure passion and more strength, than most ever have. Since the beginning of the series, Lauren, Lucas and Tim, as well as the sheriff, have part of the story, and one of the major draws to come back for more, has been following their life. I always wished for another kind of second chance for Lauren and her first love, but I guess it wasn't written in the stars, as I hoped. The danger and life and death moments, that Tim, the sheriff and Thatcher bring to the tale, give extra spice to the story, and excitement, that nicely moved the story along. The Ransom Canyon tales always pull me into that world, and it takes a while after I finish a book, to 'come back' again. The lovely small town, the lively characters, and their destinies, just take over and fill your mind. The stories are well written, with a natural flow in them, and after a wile, you feel like you are part of the town, visiting old friends, and getting to know few new ones. ~ Four Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
Someone Like You
The Harrisons #2 By: Jennifer Gracen Releasing April 26, 2016 Zebra Shout
Pierce Harrison—yes, that Pierce Harrison, black sheep of the wealthy Harrison clan—has come home to his family’s luxurious Long Island compound.
The big question is why the dangerously sexy soccer star agreed to coach a kids’ soccer team. His co-coach Abby McCord should be grateful. Instead she’s fending off some seriously smoldering advances from the scandal-ridden athlete. Good thing bad boys are so not her type . . . Abby is definitely not lacking in passion, but the sweet-faced beauty needs to learn a thing or two about taking a team to the championship—and a whole lot about how to let a man into her once-broken heart. Pierce definitely knows how to make the moves, but will Abby trust that the bachelor the world has condemned as a scoundrel can settle down with the one woman who has taken hold of his heart?
Abby grabbed two spoons from the drawer, a few napkins off the counter, and went to join her sister in the living room. Flopping down on the couch beside her, Abby simply said, “Gimme.”
Fiona handed her a pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream, then took a spoon from her and dug into her own pint of mint chocolate chip. “We’re such rock stars, aren’t we?” “Ohhh yeah,” Abby snorted. “Ten o’clock on a Saturday night, and here we are. Party animals, that’s us.” Their parents had gone upstairs to watch TV in their room until they fell asleep, and Dylan had passed out in his bed at nine. “What movie do you want to watch?” Fiona asked. “Did we decide?” “Need a comedy tonight,” Abby said after another spoonful. “Maybe The Heat? Definitely not a romance.” Fiona frowned at her younger sister. “Something happen?” “Allison and Jeff got engaged. Another one down.” She told Fiona the few details she’d learned from Facebook earlier that day. “You need to start dating again,” Fiona announced. “It’s time.” Abby shook her head. “Nah.” “Yes. Your one-year dating sabbatical is just about up, isn’t it?” Fiona pointed with her spoon for emphasis. “It’s time for you to get back out there.” “No interest,” Abby said. “That’s just because you haven’t met anyone. And how can you? You’re always hiding behind my kid.” Abby froze as indignation washed over her. “Excuse me?” “Don’t get me wrong,” Fiona said, digging her spoon back into her ice cream. “I’m beyond grateful for everything you do to help me with Dylan. But . . .” She shoveled a spoonful of mint chocolate chip into her mouth. “Say it,” Abby ground out, glaring. “But what?” “But . . .” Fiona reached for a lock of her long blond hair and twirled it around her finger. “I worry that you’re hiding here. Using watching Dylan as an excuse not to go out anymore.” “You’ve got some nerve.” Abby slammed her pint of ice cream down on the coffee table. “I moved back here, for you and for him. I’ve been trying to help you, Mom and Dad—” “I know!” Fiona said quickly. “I know, Abs! Didn’t you hear me? I’m so grateful, so appreciative. But Abby . . .” The lock of hair she twirled would be knotted soon. “I know Ewan hurt you, but not all men are lying sacks of shit. Honey, you’re twenty-eight. You should be out, meeting new guys.” “Oh, like you are?” Abby countered. “Don’t turn this around on me,” Fiona said. “I was married to a lying sack, and he’s loooong gone. I’d love to meet someone new, someone decent. I haven’t even been laid in how long?” She grinned wryly, making Abby roll her eyes. “But I work all the time. And I do that so that I can move out of here one day and not make Mom and Dad feel like they have to take care of Dyllie and me forever. I’m not single and free like you are. It’s very different: I have a kid. I’m a package deal now. You . . . you have freedom to do whatever you want.” “No I don’t,” Abby groused, ignoring the twist of sympathy in her heart for her sister. “You all need my help. That’s why I moved back home.” “That, and because Ewan broke your heart and sent you reeling. You’ve been hiding while you heal. That’s normal.” Fiona shrugged and took another spoonful. “You were right to not want to date for a year, to get your head back together. I agreed with you a hundred percent. But that year’s just about over, and it’s time for you to—” “I’m putting my ice cream away, then starting the movie,” Abby huffed, her face heating as she stood. She stomped away into the kitchen, tossing her spoon into the sink with a loud clang before closing the pint and shoving it into the freezer. Her heart pounded and she took a few deep breaths. Crossing her arms, she stared out the kitchen window. The darkness was soothing as she searched for a star. Was she over Ewan? Yes. She’d fallen out of love with him soon after she’d realized what a conniving, manipulative liar he was. But was she over the anger, the betrayal? Not completely. Maybe she never would totally get over that, just past it. And the thought of opening herself up to someone new, a chance for getting hurt again, didn’t appeal to her whatsoever. Sighing, she leaned against the counter. She’d buy cats. She’d become a cat lady. If she was a crazy cat lady, people wouldn’t urge her to get back out there and start dating, they’d leave her alone. Her shoulders slumped. It had been almost a year since she’d found out the truth about Ewan. Her insides were finally numb instead of throbbing with heartache all the time, and she was glad for that. But she just wanted to be left alone. After a few months, when the initial heartache had started to subside, she’d discovered how to like being alone without being lonely. That’s how she’d known she’d truly started to heal. Besides, her track record with guys was pitiful. She looked out to the two stars she could find in the night sky and sighed again. Okay, she didn’t want to be alone forever, she could admit that. But for now, she was fine with it. She felt solid again. That was normal, right? What was with Fiona and her sudden insistence that she date again? Fiona. Ah boy. She’d snarled at her older sister. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Fi’s fault that she was turning into an uptight, iron-cast shell of who she once was. Abby was just mad that Fi had called her on it. She took a few more deep breaths, and then went back into the living room. Fiona hadn’t moved. Abby sat down stiffly and reached for the remote. “I’m sorry I pissed you off,” Fiona said. “But I’m not sorry for what I said. Because I love you. I don’t want you to be alone forever, like I might be. One of us should find a good man and have a happy ending.” Abby turned to her with wide eyes. “First of all, we don’t need men to have a happy ending. We’re smart, strong, capable women.” “I know.” Fiona snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re getting so jaded, Abs.” “I am? Did you hear yourself just now? You’re not going to be alone forever!” “I might be,” Fiona said flatly. “Look. I’m thirty-two, a single mom to a young boy with ADHD. I work all the time. We live with my parents because my dirtbag ex-husband took off and left us with nothing. . . .” She shrugged. “Yes, I’m smart, strong, and capable. But I’m not exactly a catch.” “That’s bullshit!” Abby cried. “You’re all those things I said, not to mention hardworking, a great mom to a great kid, and drop-dead gorgeous. You’re a total catch.” Fiona smiled softly. “Thanks for that. But it’s hard to date once you have a kid. It’s just the truth. Guys my age . . . they can still find younger women, who can give them their own kids. Or at least, women who don’t have the baggage I have.” “I hate what I’m hearing,” Abby grumbled, fiddling with the remote control. “I really do, Fi.” “Know what I hate? That you’re free to do what you want, meet someone without strings, and you refuse to try.” Fiona pinned her sister with a sharp stare. “It’s a Saturday night, and you should be out with your friends.” “Shut up. I like hanging out here with you.” Abby’s anger had evaporated, leaving its usual tenderness for her big sister in its place. Even though they were four years apart, they’d always been close. They were more than sisters, they were best friends. They could finish each other’s sentences, had the same sense of humor, similar tastes in music and movies—they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. “Actually, I’m closer with you now than Allison, or Becca, or any of my girlfriends.” “That’s sweet. And I love you, too. But I’ll tell you what.” Fiona put what was left of her ice cream on the table and turned to face her sister. “Next Saturday, instead of ice cream and a movie here on the couch, we’re going out after I get home from work. To a bar, or a club. Like the fabulous young single women we are. We’re going to have drinks, maybe go dancing, and be out. We need it. We need to have fun.” Her eyes narrowed. “We’re doing that. Got me?” “Yes, ma’am,” Abby grumbled. Fiona snorted out a laugh. “Don’t get overly excited or anything.” “Starting the movie now.” “I’m holding you to this,” Fiona warned. “We’re going out next weekend.” “Starting the movie now,” Abby sing-songed, aiming the remote at the TV to bring up Netflix. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was go out clubbing. That wasn’t her thing. And as for finding someone new? No thanks. Sometimes she didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for that. The thought of it exhausted her, frankly. She was in a good place now. At peace with being on her own. It’d certainly have to be a hell of an amazing man to change her mind about dating again—someone honest and trustworthy and solid, who could also make her burn with passion and shine with happiness. And she just wasn’t sure men like that really existed.
Jennifer Gracen hails from Long Island, New York, where she lives with her two young sons. After spending her youth writing in private and singing in public, she now only sings in her car and has fully embraced her lifelong passion for writing. She loves to write contemporary romance and romantic women’s fiction for readers who yearn for better days, authentic characters, and satisfying endings. When she isn’t taking care of her kids, doing freelance copy editing/proofreading, reading, or talking to friends on Twitter and Facebook, Jennifer writes. She’s shocked her family hasn’t yet staged an intervention for her addiction to social media. But the concerts she gives in her car and the dance parties she has in her kitchen are rumored to be fabulous.
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
The Grass Was Always Browner
By: Sacha Jones Releasing May 1, 2016 Finch Publishing
The Grass Was Alway Browner by Sacha Jones is the story of a strong-willed, smart yet often less than sensible, curious and questioning girl growing up as the middle-child of three children. Her parents are old, and old-fashioned, deeply impractical, idealistic and naive, not best suited to negotiating the rough and rugged terrain of suburban Sydney in the 1970s-80s.
Sacha is not only the middle child, but she is stuck in the middle of the muddle and mess of her family’s situation. She sees and suffers more than her siblings do – or so she feels. However, one advantage of her position is that she is sent to study ballet to treat her asthma, and through ballet she finds a way out of her predicament. Sacha’s determination to escape her humdrum existence and ‘become Russian’ saw her push through and succeed against the odds (wrong-shaped head, wrong feet, overall wrong build) and a father who is strongly against her becoming a ballet dancer. He describes ballet as ‘a frivolous and selfish pursuit, too focused on appearances.’ His own dreams are focused on a desire to save the Third World. However, in their very different ways, Sacha and her father are more alike than either would care to admit. In becoming a dancing star, Sacha surprises no-one more than her legendary dance teacher – an actual Russian – Mrs P, Tanya Pearson. However, her father was right about ballet. Although it gives Sacha the escape she desires, there is a heavy price to pay. And when she sets off for London to further her dance career, it is in part because the Australian dance scene betrayed her trust. Award-winning playwright, poet and novelist Stephanie Johnson says of The Grass Was Always Browner, “Nineteen seventies suburban Sydney comes winningly alive in Sacha’s light-hearted girlhood memoir of boundless optimism, pink milk, tutus, triumph at the Eisteddfod and a horse in the back garden.” The Grass Was Always Browner is a laugh-out-loud memoir and a cautionary reminder that the grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence.
A glimpse of family life
Dad’s homecoming I left entirely to Tim. On Fridays these would consist of him standing hand-in-hand with Mum on our front veranda, which was elevated above the street level, not unlike a stage, and when Dad pulled up to park on the verge down by the road, Tim would yell out in his best stage voice: ‘Have you got the grog, Dad?’ for Fridays were grog-buying night and thanks to Tim the entire neighbourhood knew it. There was nothing Mum could do to curb his enthusiasm, try as she might, and despite the needlessness of his inquiry (Dad always had the grog)... It was good of our laundry to squeeze in a second toilet, because it had recently been called upon to accommodate a second fridge – chiefly for the purpose of storing Dad’s back-up grog. Toilets and fridges are not entirely natural roommates, and indeed the arrangement may well have been illegal. And because of the lack of space in the laundry, when you sat on the toilet, one knee bumped the washing machine and the other the second fridge. This leant a certain rustic quality to the experience, but the advantage of the arrangement was that if you ever overheated whilst sat on the toilet, a not uncommon experience living in Australia, you could reach a short arm out and relieve yourself by the cool of the open fridge door. And while there, you were free to peruse the contents of the fridge, beyond the grog, to consider your next meal while eliminating your last. Some might call that efficient. Efficient or not, I avoided the laundry toilet for all but the gravest of toilet emergencies, especially at night when the slugs came out. I did not like slugs. Indeed sitting with the slugs I felt was only fractionally better than literally exploding with poo, which is why I put it off until that was nearly the case. The laundry door naturally did not reach all the way down to the concrete floor so it was a free for all for the slugs to come and go as they pleased, congregating around the base of the toilet, possibly because it was inclined to leak. And being Australian slugs they were naturally well fed, and roughly the dimensions of your average-sized seal.
Sacha Jones has a PhD in Political Theory from the University of Auckland and has variously taught politics, preschool and dancing. She lives with her family on the outskirts of a proper forest (in Auckland, New Zealand) and returns as often as it will have her to the land of fake forests and improbable fruits where she grew up (Frenchs Forest, Sydney).
Author Links: Website | GoodReads
Welcome Home, Cowboy
A Hero’s Welcome #2 By: Annie Rains Releasing April 26, 2016 Loveswept
With its thriving military base, Seaside, North Carolina, is teeming with heroes of all stripes. But, as the Hero’s Welcome series from Annie Rains continues, it takes a cowboy to rescue the town’s newest resident from heartache.
After a bad breakup leaves Julie Chandler completely devastated, she comes to Seaside seeking a fresh start. A talented, compassionate yoga teacher, she has developed a program to help alleviate the effects of PTSD, but getting a bunch of bullheaded Marines into downward facing dog might be impossible. So Julie’s shocked when one of her first students dives in headfirst—and almost tempts her to take down her walls with his easy smile and electrifying touch. Ever since Texas cowboy turned Marine pilot Lawson Phillips lost a crew member in a helicopter accident, he hasn’t been able to fly. When a psychologist orders him to attend, of all things, a yoga class, Lawson’s outraged—until he finds out Julie is the instructor. She’s beautiful, graceful, and completely guarded when it comes to his advances, but he’s determined to find out what makes her tick. Because underneath Julie’s hard shell is a woman Lawson knows he could fall for—and he’s not ready for the ride to end.
A story that made me smile, laugh out loud, shed a tear, and sigh so deeply, while telling a tale of love, and loss, and the aftermath of war, and the mark it leaves on the military personnel.
One thing I didn't expect from the story, was to learn so much about yoga, as an exercise, as stress relief, as a way to cope with life, and as in Lawson and Julie's case, even as flirting. I really enjoyed Lawson and Julie together. They were making an effort, an effort to get to know each other better, and effort to ease and help each other in everyday life, as well as they could, an effort to make the relationship work and develop. They are both the kind of characters that are easy to like, and relate to. They didn't let their troubles to define them, but fought to get over the fumbles life gave them. The passion, adoration, and attraction they had for each other is not only sizzling, but charming, gentle and lovable as well. The stress and impact of a war zone on the soldiers, the cold sweats, nightmares, fears, and angst were dealt with respect, honoring the military in their difficult task. The supporting characters fit well into the tale, contributing more insight to the lives and history of Lawson and Julie. A well thought out plot, with multiple layers of interests, in a story that flows off the pages, and touches the heart and mind of the reader, with characters that will linger in the thoughts long after, while being as entertaining as poignant deserves nothing less than ~ Five Spoons!
“Come ride with me anytime,” he said, helping her dismount from the horse when they were back at the barn. He
didn’t place his hands on her ass this time, which was both regrettable and a relief. Instead, he steadied her waist with his hands. She turned to face him after he helped her to the ground, and was surprised to find how close they were standing. Close enough that the brim of his hat on her head nearly touched his chin. “This belongs to you.” She took off the hat and went up on her tiptoes to put it back where it belonged. Their eyes locked as the movement brought them even closer together. Her heart bucked again, like a wild horse ready to bolt. Returning to flat feet, she started to step away. Needed to step away. Too bad Bon-Bon was still behind her, blocking her escape. “Julie?” he said, making her feet pause and her heart stutter. She liked the sound of her name on his lips. Low, deep. “Yes?” she asked breathlessly. He reached out his hand to tame a strand of her hair brushing against her cheek. “You have what I call hat-hair.” He took his time smoothing the hair around her ear, awakening every nerve in her body. Then he slowly dipped, keeping his blue-as-the-ocean eyes on hers, and kissed her. She melted into him instead of stepping away. The side of his cheek on hers was warm and inviting, intoxicating. His tongue tapped softly against hers, just once, as he swept his hand behind her neck, pulling her gently toward him. A soft moan escaped her throat, betraying her. She parted her lips for him, inviting him in, begging him to stay, which he did for just a moment longer. Then he broke it off, keeping it sweet. The kiss had threatened to be more, though. It had threatened to take her inside that barn, lay her down on a blanket of hay, and be a whole hell of a lot more. “See you later, Lawson,” she said, forcing herself to step away from him, away from the horse and the barn. She turned toward her car and didn’t look back. Otherwise, her hormones were going to win and drag this cowboy into the barn and slam the stall doors behind them. “See you later, Julie,” he called after her.
Annie Rains is a contemporary romance author who writes small town love stories set in fictional towns on the coast of North Carolina.
Raised in one of America’s largest military communities, Annie often features heroes who fight for their countries, while also fighting for a place to call home and a good woman to love. When Annie isn’t writing, she’s spending time with her husband and 3 children, or reading a book by one of her favorite authors. Author Links: Website | FB | Twitter | GR
House of the Hanging Jade
By: Amy M. Reade Releasing April 26, 2016 Lyrical Press
Tired of the cold winters in Washington, D.C. and disturbed by her increasingly obsessive boyfriend, Kailani Kanaka savors her move back to her native Big Island of Hawaii.
She also finds a new job as personal chef for the Jorgensen family. The gentle caress of the Hawaiian trade winds, the soft sigh of the swaying palm trees, and the stunning blue waters of the Pacific lull her into a sense of calm at the House of Hanging Jade--an idyll that quickly fades as it becomes apparent that dark secrets lurk within her new home. Furtive whispers in the night, a terrifying shark attack, and the discovery of a dead body leave Kailani shaken and afraid. But it's the unexpected appearance of her ex-boyfriend, tracking her every move and demanding she return to him, that has her fearing for her life . . .
I knew I should have stayed home.
I bent my head as the wind whipped down Massachusetts Avenue, hurling snowflakes at my face, stinging my cheeks with hard, frosty pellets. The icy sidewalks were treacherous, making my walk to work precarious and slow. There were very few others brave or foolish enough to be out in this weather. I passed one man out walking his dog and silently praised him for being so devoted. I finally arrived at the restaurant. I stamped on the snow that had piled up against the front door and slipped my key into the lock with fingers stiff and clumsy from the cold. Once inside, it only took me a second to realize that no one else was there. On a normal day, one without a blizzard, my assistant Nunzio would already have come in through the back and flipped on the kitchen lights before I arrived. I groaned. Even Nunzio, whom I could always count on, had stayed home. I moved through the darkened dining room and turned on the lights in the kitchen. As they blinked to life, I heard a heavy knock at the front door. Hurrying to open it, I recognized the face of Geoffrey, the restaurant’s owner and my current boyfriend, bundled up in a thick scarf and hat. “Kailani, what are you doing here?” he exclaimed, brushing snow off his boots in the vestibule. “Someone has to be here to get things started,” I answered testily. “I don’t think we can open today,” Geoffrey said. “There’s no way the delivery trucks can get through, and I don’t think we’d have any customers even if they could.” “You mean I came all this way for nothing?” I whined. Geoffrey smiled down at me. “Sorry. I just assumed you’d know not to come in on a day like this.” “Why did you come in, then?” “To catch up on paperwork. Plus, snowstorms don’t bother me.” “Ugh. They bother me. Well, I guess if you don’t need me here, I’ll head back home.” “Want me to stop by later?” I didn’t, but I nodded. Geoffrey and I hadn’t been dating for long. He was already becoming a little too clingy. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Be safe getting home. I’d call you a cab, but there isn’t a single one on the streets.” “Believe me, I know.” I trudged home the same way I had come, the snow falling even harder now and blowing sideways, making it difficult for me to see. When I finally made it to my apartment building, I clumped up the stairs in my heavy boots and stood inside my apartment, leaning against the door for several moments to catch my breath. It took me a while to peel off all my layers. I left them lying on the floor while I heated up milk on the stove for hot chocolate. As the milk warmed, I gazed at a canvas photo that hung in my front hall. It was a faraway view of the beach, taken from my parents’ backyard, overlooking the black sand and the curling waves of the azure Pacific Ocean. “We’ve got to go home,” I said aloud to my cat, Meli, as she stepped daintily around me. This wasn’t the first time I had expressed this sentiment to Meli, but this time she stopped and looked up at me. She blinked and twitched her ears. It was the sign I needed. I watched the snow continue to fall for several hours from the warmth and safety of my apartment. Meli and I curled up on the couch while I tried to read a book, but I couldn’t concentrate. My thoughts returned again and again to palm trees and warm, caressing trade winds, to the faces of my mother and father, of my sister and her little girl. Geoffrey eventually stopped by, bringing with him an icy blast of air as I opened the door to the hallway. He laughed. “Looks like this storm may never end.” I invited him into the warmth of the apartment. “Take off your stuff. Want some hot chocolate?” I called over my shoulder as I walked into the kitchen. “Sure,” he answered, struggling with one of his boots. I joined him in the living room a few minutes later. He was trying to stroke Meli’s chin, but she apparently wanted none of that. Her ears flattened back and she squirmed out of his reach. I handed him the mug of hot chocolate and sat down opposite him. “Geoffrey, I have news,” I told him warily, knowing he probably wouldn’t be as happy as I was. “What is it?” “I’m going back to Hawaii.” I waited for his reaction. “That’s nice. It’ll do you good to get out of this weather for a while.” He obviously wasn’t getting it. “No, not for a while. I’m moving back. For good.” I was right. He was not happy. In fact, he looked stricken, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “What do you mean, for good?” he asked, choking on his hot chocolate. “I mean, I just can’t stand it here any longer. I’m never going to get used to the weather, I miss my parents, and my niece is growing up without her auntie. It’s time to go back. This is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I’ll miss you, Geoffrey, but this is what’s best for me,” I added, trying to soften the blow. He looked like he was struggling for words. “But . . . but . . . what will you do?” “I’ll do the same thing I do here, Geoffrey. Sous-chefs are not unique to DC.” “Okay, but what will I do? Without you, I mean?” I felt sorry for him. He looked crestfallen. “Geoffrey,” I said gently, “there are lots of women in Washington who are looking for someone as wonderful and kind and handsome and successful as you are. I have to do what my heart is telling me to do, and that’s to go back to Hawaii.” He nodded slowly, his eyes downcast. “Is there anything I can say to keep you here?” “I’m afraid not.” “When are you leaving?” “I don’t know. I just made the decision this morning.” He sighed and leaned back against the couch cushions, holding his mug on his lap and staring into space. “Geoffrey? You okay?” I asked. He set his mug on the coffee table and pushed himself up from the sofa. “I guess I should get going, then. Will you keep working at the restaurant until you leave?” I was surprised that he wanted to leave already, but I didn’t mention it. “Of course. I’ll give you plenty of time to find another fabulous sous-chef.” I watched Geoffrey as he walked down the hallway of my apartment building. His shoulders were stooped and his gait slow. He looked like a forlorn little boy. Poor Geoffrey. At the end of the hallway, right by the elevator, he turned around and made a pleading motion with his hands and walked back toward me. Uh-oh. “Kailani, how can you just throw away all the time we’ve spent together?” I was a little taken aback, but I suppose I shouldn’t have been. Such dramatic statements were normal with him. “Geoffrey, we haven’t really spent too much time together. We haven’t been dating very long.” “But doesn’t that time mean something to you?” “Yes, of course it does. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and we’ve had fun together. But it’s time for me to go home. And I’m afraid a long-distance relationship just isn’t possible. It’s too far away.” “There’s got to be a way, Kailani. I just can’t stand the thought of losing you.” “I’m sorry, Geoffrey. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” I closed the door gently and stood there until I heard the ding of the elevator. I waited a few hours before calling my mother since there was a five-hour time difference between DC and Hawaii. She and my father were both thrilled by my news, as I knew they would be. They had a million questions for me, like when I would be coming home, where I would be looking for a new job, and whether I could live with them for a while. “I don’t know!” I laughed. “I’m going to start putting out some feelers right away for jobs in restaurants and resorts along the Kohala Coast. Someone must need a sous-chef. Or even a head chef. But I’ll be home soon, don’t worry. I can’t stand another day of this winter weather.” I hung up, promising to keep them posted about my job hunt. Suddenly, the winter seemed a little warmer.
USA Today bestselling author Amy M. Reade is also the author of Secrets of Hallstead House and The Ghosts of Peppernell Manor. She grew up in northern New York, just south of the Canadian border, and spent her weekends and summers on the St. Lawrence River. She graduated from Cornell University and then went on to law school at Indiana University in Bloomington. She practiced law in New York City before moving to southern New Jersey, where, in addition to writing, she is a wife, a full-time mom and a volunteer in school, church and community groups. She lives just a stone’s throw from the Atlantic Ocean with her husband and three children as well as a dog and two cats. She loves cooking and all things Hawaii and is currently at work on her next novel. Visit her website at or at her blog.
Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
Chloe
Made Men #3 By: Sarah Brianne Released April 29, 2016 Young Ink Press
Hey! My name is Sarah Brianne and after living for twenty-two years the characters in my head told me enough was enough and I have finally put pen to paper (or is it finger to keyboard?) to tell their stories. Since I was a little girl I have watched every chick flick I could get my hands on, then when I became older I discovered a whole new world of romance novels. To me there is nothing better then a tale of true love and those are the stories that have inspired me to write. Like everything else in my life I have put my own spin on two lovers destined to be together.
Author Links: Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads
Behind the Marquess's Mask
The Lords of Whitehall #1 By: Kristen McLean Releasing April 30, 2016 Young Ink Press
Even the mask of an expert spy is no defense against his own heart.
With a reputation as dark as his appearance, Greydon Sharpe, the Marquess of Ainsley, ought to have been the last agent assigned to the daughter of a well-respected Member of Parliament. However, when she is brutally attacked and left for dead, it becomes clear he is the only one with the skills to keep her alive. All it will take are a few lies to keep her breathing long enough to capture the villain. Then he can send her on her way. If she would only behave herself, he might be able to complete his mission before she turns his contentedly miserable life into a chaotic mess. Marriage is not an option … until it is. Lady Kathryn Bryant, the adventure-seeking socialite, has no plans to behave. Kathryn would much rather spend her time in subterfuge, nabbing villains and finding clues. However, when her memory is lost in an attack, she has little choice but to trust the handsome Marquess. Though she is almost certain he is hiding something, she is helpless against his disarming smile and warm touch. Eventually, his lies will come to the surface, leaving only one question: Is England’s deadliest spy equipped to save a broken heart?
He stopped short a few feet from her, and every inch of her insufficiently clad body came into focus. She was dressed for bed with her auburn hair plaited over her shoulder.
“You understand what I do, then.” Grey began unbuttoning his shirt at the neck. “Good. Now I can brag about my exploits. Do you know the worst part about being an unsung hero? It’s the unsung bit by far.” “You lied to me,” she accused, those blue pools glaring up at him. “I would be a sad excuse for a spy if I were honest,” he returned, swallowing the self-disgust. His fingers moved, deftly unfastening the buttons halfway down his chest. “I hope you appreciate the lengths I went through. I have dragged you out of a myriad of sticky situations, but this is the first time I have ever had to marry you to keep you alive.” Her eyes narrowed as her hands fisted in her lap. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice,” he suggested. By the time the last word was out of his mouth, Kathryn had flung herself off her chair with her arm raised. The prickly thing was about to strike him. Grey caught her wrist then grabbed the other just in case she had similar ideas in mind for that one. Then she was wriggling to get free, bringing the pea-brain in his trousers to attention. It was frustrating. He hauled her into him, pinning her arms to his chest, and wrapping his tightly around her. It stopped the wriggling, but now she was glaring up at him with those giant, blue pools a man could drown in. He could feel every curve of her luscious body except where her little fists were pressed against the ugly scar peeking out from the opening in his shirt. Pea-brain was suddenly the only brain he remembered having.
Kristen has always had a love of novels, with a special place in her heart for historical romance. After reading enough of them to fill a rather impressive library, she decided to write her own. Now she has the pleasure of writing at home, tucked away in a forest with her husband, two children and her cat. Her husband is loving, and impressively patient, her two beautiful children strive to embarrass and exhaust her, and her cat hates everyone, but tolerates—well, she tolerates whoever will feed her.
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No one understands family loyalty like Jack McShane. He’d do anything to honor his foster father’s last wishes, even if it means putting his own plans on hold to manage Joe’s construction business.
An ex–Special Forces operative, Jack thrives on the thrill of globe-hopping rescues. But now he’s needed closer to home. His foster mother has her hands full with a troubled teen, and when Jack meets the hired tutor, he discovers a woman who stirs his protective instincts—and his deepest desires. Caitlyn Curtis knows that good looks can hide a hot temper. After an abusive marriage crushed her dreams of a happy ending, she swore off men—until one intoxicating dance in Jack’s strong arms breaks down every emotional barrier. Tough but tender, he leaves Caitlyn yearning for more of his gentle seduction. Despite the violence he’s seen, Jack is a good man. And even though passion can be dangerous, the promise of Jack’s kiss tempts her to believe that love is a risk worth taking.
Poignant and touching love story, more than I expected, more than just a romance, it is a tribute to all the foster parents out there, as well to the family of heart, that we choose for ourselves, and the parental love, that doesn't require a bloodline, to be real, deep, and overwhelming.
Yes, there's a beautiful romance, between Caitlyn and Jack. I loved following how they got to know each other, the dates they went on, dancing, walks on the beach, making out while watching a movie, it is all wistful and yet ardent at the same time. But the connection between Jack and Ricky, the troubled teenager, is in front and center, as well. The very fragile, delicate contact they have, how Jack does everything he can, to protect and defend him, to take care of him. How Ricky slowly learns to trust not only Jack, but his family, and their intentions to keep him, provide a home for him, and love him for the rest of his life, just had me in tears. It is beautiful, admirable, and awe-inspiring. The troubles and triumphs they go through, to find that trust in each other, how they built upon that frail bond between them, I loved every minute, every word of it. This story really touched my heart, it provides the most beautiful side of humanity, the caring, loving, and protecting no matter what, in the face the of the ugliest scenes, and with the background of the most hurtful past. I can't wait for the stories of Jack's brothers, because this story is absolutely pearl ~ Five Spoons
In the remote Rocky Mountains, lives depend on the Search & Rescue brotherhood. But in a place this far off the map, trust is hard to come by and secrets can be murder...
As the captain of Field County's ice rescue dive team, Callum Cook is driven to perfection. But when he meets new diver Louise "Lou" Sparks, all that hard-won order is obliterated in an instant. Lou is a hurricane. A walking disaster. And with her, he's never felt more alive...even if keeping her safe may just kill him. Lou's new to the Rockies, intent on escaping her controlling ex, and she's determined to make it on her own terms...no matter how tempting Callum may be. But when a routine training exercise unearths a body, Lou and Callum find themselves thrust into a deadly game of cat and mouse with a killer who will stop at nothing to silence Lou-and prove that not even her new Search and Rescue family can keep her safe forever.
This story has it all, interesting, complicated characters, sweet, yet passionate, adorable romance, suspense, that makes you bite your nails, humor, life, and extreme circumstances, all in a well built plot! This is a story that you want to lose your sleep over.
There's a lot of banter in the story, and it is the kind that is fun, a little flirty, and lots of humor in it. Lou is a strong heroine, she manages well with the male rescue workers, and holds her own in a crisis. Callum, even though a crunchy exterior, completely melts, when it comes to Lou. Those two made me smile and sigh so many times. It is not a syrupy love story, more on the side of awkward and clumsy, but it is real, and delightful. Both of them prove through the story, that they are willing to do anything for each other. There's conversations between Callum and Lou, so fragile, and tender, but so charming. The suspense is built slowly but surely. The danger expands, and gets tangible, when lives are in peril, and what was thought to be 'just a stalker' turn outs to be so much more. The characters, even the supporting cast and crew, are complex, and charming. I wish there would have been a more information about Callum's background. There's several hints about it, that there's even more to him, that was told, and references about his past, but the details never came forward. As a book one in the series, it is solid, it does a great job to build the scene, and set the stage. The major crime of the story is not solved in this book, and the readers are left to wait with a sort of a middle of the conversation cliffhanger. I hope this only means that the next instalment of the series is coming out soon, since the story was built strong enough, the interest to the characters was keen enough, so that the cliffhanger ending was not needed, to bring the readers for more. ~ Four Spoons with a teaspoon on the side |