Read an excerpt from Come Home to Me by Liz Talley

Message From Rhett Bryan, the Hero from Come Home To Me

Hello and welcome. Most of you may know me as Rhett Bryan, host of Late Night in LA with Rhett Bryan, but you may be surprised to know that I’m not a Hollywood native. I know, I know, I do all those commercials for the California tourism guys and spend way too much time eating fish tacos on the beach, but I actually grew up a small-town Southern boy in coastal South Carolina. So, yeah, beaches, but they were different. There were no rocks – just tons of driftwood and marshes butting up to the sand beaches. My hometown – Moonlight – was on the bay and it was pretty much quintessential small town USA. I played baseball in high school. I was a catcher which is probably why my knees hate me some mornings, and I, no kidding, dated the prom queen. So throw all your stereotypes at me. I lived with my Grampy Pete on a small island – there are groupings of islands on the South Carolina coast – and I learned to love the water and all the things in it. I was a decent student and had lots of good friends. I struggled in Calculus and so the smartest girl in our class tutored me. I really liked Summer – she was cool. But something happened to her on prom night, something that still bothers me when I think about it. So like most people from small Southern towns, there are memories that haunt me. I guess Summer Valentine is one of those ghosts. 

About the Book

Summer Valentine has returned to Moonlight, South Carolina, a very different woman from the naive wallflower who left years before. These days she’s straightforward and savvy, determined to do right by her son, David, even if that means cashing in her struggling music career in Nashville and returning to the town that drove her away. Sure, she took a fall. But at least she now knows where she stands . . .

Despite her anger over the past, Summer believes David deserves a relationship with his father, Hunter “Hunt” McCroy. Though Hunt’s illustrious career has faded, privilege still protects him from his worst mistakes.

Someone else is back in Moonlight too: Rhett Bryan, the golden boy of Hollywood, who’s taking stock of his own life after a tragic accident. As his rekindled friendship with Summer quickly deepens, she must reconcile the painful history that ties her to both men—one she’s finally forgiven, one she’s afraid to love—to claim healing and happiness.

Excerpt From Come Home To Me

“Pass me that spool of ivory satin,” Summer said, pinching the base of the orchids she was making into a corsage. She hated making corsages because they took an enormous amount of time for such a small reward. Summer much preferred helping her sister to create big, lush bouquets designed to grace pulpits or casket tops.

“So what’s he like?” Maisie asked, jabbing a wire between her lips and tossing the spool toward her older sister.

“Who?”

“You know damned well who,” Maisie muttered around the floral wire.

“Rhett? Oh, he’s fine.”

“I’ll say,” Maisie said, managing a smile around the wire. Or she had gas.

Maisie took the wire and wrapped it around the base of a white rose. Summer hated white roses. They made her think of death.

Summer’s sister may have been seven years her younger, but she didn’t look it. The recent divorce had weighed heavy on Maisie, and the young mother looked tired and worn. Which was why Summer was quick to pitch in when Maisie needed help. Her sister had someone who ran the front of the shop and handled deliveries, but when there were multiple big events like homecoming or a large funeral, she needed an extra set of hands. Summer wasn’t necessarily talented at creating floral displays, but she could trim stems and make bows.

“He’s not like he is on television,” Summer said, not wanting to talk about Rhett, mostly because, like years before, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind, but if she avoided the fact that late night’s favorite son was staying next door, Maisie would be suspicious.

Yeah, he’d been on her mind too much. So what?

Lord, the sadness in his eyes haunted her, and, God help her, she wanted to make that better for him. Problem was, she didn’t know how, and she had no right to want anything when it came to Rhett. She’d learned that long ago. There had been something between them even back then, but it was not romantic in nature. More of an understanding, an acknowledgement that each could see through the bullshit life shoveled their way. Had nothing to do with the erratic beating of hearts or breathless kisses … at least not on Rhett’s behalf. “I mean, he’s charming and funny, but he’s not dazzling. Eh, I take that back. He’s dazzling but real. That’s it. Rhett’s still a golden boy, but not so shiny you can’t look at him.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought about this,” Maisie said, tossing a quizzical glance her way.

Crap. She’d overshared, and now Maisie might glimpse the former longing that had made a strong comeback. Fine. She could admit it to herself—she’d never really gotten over the crush on Rhett. He had always been her ideal, but she was also reasonable enough to understand that she’d built Rhett up in her head. Sure, he was a good guy and a Hollywood celebrity, but he was just a guy. He scratched himself, forgot to recycle, and probably didn’t tip the bag boy at the grocery. Everyone had flaws. “No. I’m just saying.”

“‘I’m just saying’ is everyone’s cop-out when they don’t want to admit something.”

“You sound like a therapist.”

“That’s because I’m seeing one,” Maisie said with a grin. She then jabbed the rose into the large spray, making it look somehow perfect. Summer’s sister was definitely talented and had become the go-to florist in town. There were a few other florists, but none had as artistic an eye as Maisie. “Can you date your therapist? ’Cause I think Dr. Weaver is really doing it for me.”

“I think that’s against some law or something.”

“Damn.”

“Let’s talk about Rhett Bryan some more. And that giant torch for him you’re toting around.”

Bull’s-eye.

How did Maisie know? She thought she’d gotten better at hiding the longing for Rhett. “I don’t have a torch for him. And if I did, who cares? Half of America has a thing for him. He’s cute.”

“But it’s more than that for you. I mean, Nessa once told me you were totally in love with him in high school.”

“I had a crush on him in high school. So did every other girl. And when did you see Nessa?”

“She came home a few weekends ago. You had a gig in Columbia, remember? She’s doing good. Nominated for preschool teacher of the year in her district, and her twin girls are so cute.”

“I missed Agnes and Bess?” Nessa lived in Charleston and came home a few times a month to see her parents. She and Summer’s sister had become good friends when Maisie lived in Charleston while Brad was in school. That they both had a set of twins bonded them even further.

“Don’t try to change the subject. I’m just saying every time I bring up Rhett’s name, I can tell. You’re still into him,” Maisie said.

“Fine. Once upon a time, I had a thing for him. But that torch has been extinguished. What you’re sensing right now isn’t about having a thing for Rhett. It’s just he’s an easy guy to like, and we’ve always been friends.”

“Okay, I believe you.” Maisie lifted a thin shoulder and flattened her mouth. “But if the opportunity arises go for it. Those Hollywood types sleep with anyone, right?”

“Thanks.” Nothing like being “anyone” to a man.

“You know what I mean. You won’t have to worry about, you know, him bringing emotion into the equation.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone feels emotion, even celebrities.” Summer turned toward the collection of blooms resting in metal buckets and selected a pale-pink flower to bring depth to the rose. She didn’t want to have this conversation, mostly because Rhett tempted her in ways she couldn’t explain. The rational part of her knew there was no way Rhett would see her in such a light, and even if he did, having sex, letting herself fall back into love with him, would leave her with nothing but a memory. Somehow having Rhett and then losing him would be worse than never having him at all.

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About the Author

A finalist for both the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart and RITA Awards, Liz Talley has found a home writing heartwarming contemporary romance. Her stories are set in the South, where the tea is sweet, the summers are hot, and the porches are wide. Liz lives in North Louisiana with her childhood sweetheart, two handsome children, three dogs, and a naughty kitty. Readers can visit Liz at www.liztalleybooks.com to learn more about her upcoming novels.

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Spotlight: Before Daylight by Andie J. Christopher

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 17, 2018

Perfect Strangers 

Ballerina Laura Delgado is just one solo away from a dream job with the New York City Ballet.  Then a drunken pas de deux at her cousin’s wedding results in the one thing she never wanted—a husband. TV producer Charlie Laughlin may be deliciously kissable, but she needs him offstage now, and out of her life.  

Perfect Disaster

Charlie’s ready for marriage and kids, and on the lookout for just the right woman. Laura doesn’t fit the bill at all—but Charlie can’t stop thinking about the sultry way they moved together. And he can’t help but wonder if he can change the gorgeous dancer’s mind about leaving Miami with heated kisses that promise as much as they demand . . .

Perfect Partners 

Annulling their sham marriage is all Laura wants—until she gets to New York and realizes that leaving Charlie behind is easier said than done. Can a relationship that began as a hot mistake become the kind of love that will last forever?

Excerpt

Stock still, Laura Delgado stared at her Grandpa Rogelio with her mouth open. All the oxygen and all good sense in the universe had been sucked out of the room. Her dressing room had turned into the upside-down. Then, her knees gave out, and she dropped to the couch without meaning to.

Married!? My what!? The word husband echoed over and over in Laura’s head. The two syllables sounded foreign and hostile. The disjointed—and altogether frightening—sounds reminded her of a Russian ballet master she’d once studied with. He’d thwacked her with a violin bow when she missed a step. The bow was less painful than the idea that she was actually married.

In her mind, marriage had always equaled death—a slow, painful, wasting disease suffered while handcuffed to the cause of death. And she’d just found out that she was terminal.

“Unless we get his signature, I can’t file your taxes.” Two days from the deadline. Her grandfather had the audacity to smirk at her as though he found this situation funny. He thought the fact that she was married and only found out about it...funny. If she didn’t love her Grandpa Rogelio so much, she would be tempted to punch him in his still-handsome face. But, given that he was her favorite relative and he’d done her taxes without incident since she got her first paycheck from the company at eighteen, she just clenched her jaw.

And to make things even worse than the mere fact that she was married was the guy she was married to. Charlie Fucking Laughlin. With his artfully scruffy beard, his too-long hair, and naughty-looking mouth. He was smooth-talking and smug. Everyone loved him because he was so nice, but no one was that nice. Laura didn’t like nice. Didn’t trust nice. And now, nice-Charlie Laughlin was allegedly her husband.

She’d never intended to get married, and she certainly didn’t picture ever ending up with someone like Charlie. He was too much everything—too handsome, too tall, and too sexy. By the time she was fourteen, right before she’d left home to join the ballet, she’d decided that she wanted nothing to do with marriage. Her parents had screwed it up enough to put her off the institution entirely.

There was no way she was going to end up tethered to someone like her father. Unlike her father, Charlie had a sense of humor, but he had the same charisma that her father used to try to control everyone around him. No way she was about to give herself no escape but the bottom of a pill bottle. Even though Charlie wasn’t an emotionally abusive dick bag, he would end up trying to control her—he would want more of her than she could give.

How many Mai Tais—and how much tequila—had she had to drink? The only way she would have gotten married was if she’d been bombed out of her mind—or if he’d tied her up and dragged her down the aisle. But that would have left a mark.

If she had been on her guard, acting like herself, this never would have happened.

Images of a pink beach and matching pink drinks flooded her consciousness. The soft caress of the Indonesian breeze, the fuzzy joy at seeing her cousin, Carla, joyfully happy on her wedding day, and her disquiet at how much she didn’t miss dancing during the three months she was out of commission from a groin injury slammed into her mind from the recesses of her memory. Since returning to the ballet, she’d stuffed thoughts of that night down so far that they exploded back like matter packed too densely in space.

But, every so often, her mind drifted to kissing Charlie at sunset, away from the crowd. It was the craziest thing she’d ever done—kissing a stranger. She couldn’t get the feeling of his lips on hers out of her head. It was as though he’d stamped an impression on her, an invisible tattoo of his effect on her. Her entire life up until that point had been about discipline, training, dieting, and taking in criticism. She’d been a changeling at the behest of everyone in her life, and she knew that she could never let anyone know what was underneath her exterior. But there was something about the way he’d looked at her that had penetrated the wall she’d built around herself to avoid the pain of feeling she was never quite good enough, never quite the best. The feeling of his gaze on her skin—the feeling of him really looking at her—lingered along with the imprint of his mouth.

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling author Andie J. Christopher writes edgy, funny, sexy contemporary romance. She grew up in a family of voracious readers, and picked up her first Harlequin Romance novel at age twelve when she’d finished reading everything else in her grandmother’s house. It was love at first read. It wasn’t too long before she started writing her own stories — her first heroine drank Campari and wore a lot of Esprit.

Although, she set aside writing fiction for a while, her love of romance novels stayed with her through college, law school, and multiple cross-country moves. During one long East Coast winter, she decided writing a book would be a good excuse to avoid braving the elements. It was love at first write. Her heroes are dirty-talking alphas, and her heroines traded Esprit for Free People. (None of them would turn down a Campari, though.)

You can visit her online at the following places: Website Facebook | Twitter Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub | Instagram | Pinterest

Spotlight: Eyes of the Tiger by Patricia Rosemoor

Eyes of the Tiger
Patricia Rosemoor
Publication date: April 19th 2018
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Jewelry designer Gemma Hewitt has a gift. Gems and jewelry speak to her, which inspires her designs, and also sends her on dark adventures across the globe as she seeks out historic pieces. After her mother is brutally murdered, Gemma inherits her famed jeweled collar, which she hopes will lead her to see the face of her mother’s killer and bring him to justice. Instead, she’s thrown back to 1901 India where she sees the young woman about to be married with a pendant that matches her jeweled collar. When she’s hired to find the entire bridal suite, she hopes she can use the jewels to save her family’s fortune. Can she trust the handsome, enigmatic man who promises to help her on her quest, or is he the one she should be running from?

British reporter/photographer Raj Sinclair wants the bridal suite for his own reasons. Attracted to Gemma, he senses a connection with her as if he’s known her for a very long time. When danger stalks her, he will do anything to protect her.

The treasure hunt takes them to cities from the US to Britain to France, ending in India where the bridal suite is finally rejoined… and three reincarnated souls get another chance to make things right.

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EXCERPT:

Washington, DC

Finished with breakfast at a nearby café, Raj decided to return to the suite to freshen up and decide what else he could do before Gemma made that call to meet at the museum. He was surprised to learn she had gotten back to the hotel before him.

More surprised to hear her agonized wail as he opened the suite door.

“Gemma, what’s…”

His question died on his lips as he entered the living area, swinging the door shut behind him. Gemma was in the middle of the room, not standing, but crouching, arms up, as if trying to hold onto something invisible. Sobbing as if her heart would break.

He moved to her side, softly saying, “Hey, Gemma.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Didn’t seem to know he was there. Words tore from her between sobs. Foreign. Hindi. He recognized the language from his childhood, even if he no longer understood what she was saying.

What in the world was happening to her?

She was wearing the hathphool…

He wanted to pull her up into his arms, but he feared that might panic her. So he crouched next to her, murmuring, “It’s okay, Gemma. I’m here now. You can talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

Somewhere in the middle of his coaxing, her sobs quieted and she seemed to regain presence. Looking at him through tear-swollen eyes, she focused and appeared a bit shocked to see him.

“Raj?”

Nodding, he stood. “C’mon, let me help you up.”

Taking the hand he offered, she wobbled to her feet but couldn’t look at him. He could almost hear her mind flying, searching for the one explanation he would believe. He led her to an upholstered chair, found a box of tissues and offered them to her. She grabbed a handful and mopped her face.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

She didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“You weren’t yourself.”

She sat frozen, again not looking at him.

“You were very distressed. Not only crying but saying something that sounded like your heart was breaking.”

Finally, she asked, “What did I say?”

“Beats me. I’ve long forgotten much of the Hindi my grandfather taught me. You have no idea?”

“Not that I was speaking Hindi.”

“Tell me, Gemma. What’s going on with you?” He flicked a look at her hand. “Was it the hathphool? Does it have some mysterious power, as legend claims? Did it make you see something that upset you so?”

He didn’t think she was going to answer him. She removed the jewels from around her wrist, pulled off the ring, then looked around the room until her gaze settled on a table bearing a sandalwood box similar to the one that housed the jeweled collar. She started to pull herself from the chair, but he put a hand out to stop her.

“Let me.”

He fetched the box from the table and gave it to her. Her hands shook as she replaced the hathphool on the velvet interior before snapping it closed. Without a word, she passed it back to him. Setting it where he’d found it, Raj took the chair next to hers and reached out to cover her hand with his.

“Tell me, Gemma,” he said again. “Whatever happened to you… not good. If I’m going to protect you, I need to know from what.”

“Not this. You can’t protect me from this.”

“From what?”

Her jaw clenched and unclenched. She couldn’t avoid his question any longer. Her eyes held a mixture of fear and defiance. “The past. You can’t protect me from the past.”

Raj kept himself from visibly reacting. “What past?”

“What Shardul Nair’s magic has shown me.”

Her words made him tense.

She went on. “The life of a woman who lived during the British Raj.”

He somehow kept his voice even when he asked, “What woman?”

“A maharaja’s daughter named Mayura.”

Mayura! Raj started. He should have known. Maybe he had on some level. But he still had to process it as she opened up to him, the words pouring out of her without hesitation. Each piece of the bridal suite had warned Gemma of danger awaiting her. Yet each had let her enter Mayura’s world.

A world he lived in every time he lost himself in Harry’s journal. What the hell? Everything she told him synched with what he’d read. How was this possible without some kind of supernatural force being involved?

“I don’t know how I can keep doing this—finding the other jewels and testing them for more information—but I have to,” she said. “For my mother.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you see? It’s all coming together. It’s clear the murderer wants the jewels.” Gemma retreated as if she was seeing another reality. “The jewels keep giving me glimpses… I don’t know how to describe it… maybe into his dark soul. Madam Cybil said she saw me through the eyes of the tiger, that the jewels would help me do the same so that I would know how to use my power. I didn’t believe it at the time, but now… maybe it’s possible. And somehow, this Mayura is part of the equation. I saw her with the mangalsutra that bore the jewels of the Navagraha.”

Raj’s pulse thumped, the rhythm speeding up. The mangalsutra his grandfather had passed on to him along with Harry’s journal when he’d become obsessed with it. Should he tell her now?

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He took a deep breath. No, not now. When she was on a more even keel.

He couldn’t think of a way to explain without Gemma’s thinking the worst of him. He hadn’t told her up front because he’d begun the treasure hunt well before she had, and he’d been determined that nothing would stop him from seeing it through.

But then the connection with Gemma… the feeling he’d known her his whole life… had thrown him.

His goal hadn’t changed, no matter how strongly he was drawn to her. But Gemma intended to sell the collection to an entertainer! How could he resolve that? Seeing the collection put back together was not only an obsession, but a matter of family honor for him. That was his priority. Somehow, he had to make this go the way it was meant to. Hopefully, he would find a time… find a way to tell her everything.

But not now.

Later, when he was certain he could make her understand.


Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling Author Patricia Rosemoor has written 100 novels for 8 publishers, has more than seven million books in print, and is fascinated with watching, reading and writing about "dangerous love." Patricia won a Golden Heart from Romance Writers of America and two Reviewers Choice and two Career Achievement Awards from RT BOOKreviews, and in her other life, she taught Popular Fiction and Suspense-Thriller Writing, credit courses at Columbia College Chicago.

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Spotlight: Accidental Tryst by Natasha Boyd

Accidental Tryst
Natasha Boyd
Publication date: March 6th 2018
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

A new standalone seriously (steamy) romantic comedy! Meet Trystan Montgomery. Suit monkey, commitment-phobic serial dater. No more than three dates, unless he hasn’t … you know.

Emmy:
What a disaster! I only just made my flight to New York to help my uncle, and the phone I’m holding is not mine! It seems to belong to some commitment-phobic serial dater who’s never made it past four dates (according to the constant notifications he’s getting from his fake dating profile…) And worse? I have a sinking feeling it’s that hot suit-monkey with the arctic grey eyes I just had a run-in with at the airport. Somehow I have to persuade him not to get a new phone until I get back. My whole life is on that phone. It’s only a few days. Surely we can handle it.

Trystan :
This is a joke, right? My life could not get more f*cked up. I’m in the middle of selling my company and on my way to a funeral and that hot mess hippie-chick stole my freaking phone. I’m not sure how she convinced me not to immediately walk into a smart phone store and get a new one, but now she’s going to have to play stand in and distract me while I deal with my long-avoided and estranged family. I don’t have my dating apps after all, and frankly she’s pretty funny. And sexy. And why can’t I stop texting her? And now we’re talking. And … look, I’ll admit that I usually run for the hills the morning after, but the morning after phone sex? That’s not really real, right?

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EXCERPT:

Emmy: I hate my boss.

Suit Monkey: What happened?

Emmy: Pitch was cancelled. He knew that but still made me call in. I’m feeling … stabby.

Suit Monkey: Stabby?

Emmy: Murderous!

Suit Monkey: So you texted ME? Great.

Emmy: Sorry.

I found myself grinning.

Suit Monkey: No it’s fine really. It’s nice to know I spring to mind when you’re stirred to great heights of passion. Was just hoping they’d be less murderous and more amorous.

Emmy: In the middle of the day?

Suit Monkey: A noon delight? Why not?

I gasped dramatically in the empty break room and typed double exclamation points of shock and hit send.

Suit Monkey: I’m kidding. Kind of. Not really. But I bet you’re smiling now. Or at least rolling your eyes.

Emmy: I am

Trystan: I’m in a car with my uncle and my cousin going to visit some of the properties I now own. But if I weren’t …

Emmy: Stop.

Suit Monkey: Okay.

Emmy: Is this what we are now?

Suit Monkey: What?

Emmy: Phone sex buddies.

Suit Monkey: Do we have to label it?

Emmy: You can’t even commit to phone sex? You’re worse off than I thought.

Author Bio:

Natasha Boyd is an internationally bestselling and award-winning author of historical fiction and contemporary romantic Southern fiction. She has a background in marketing and public relations and her debut novel Eversea was a finalist in the 2013 Winter Rose Contest for Contemporary Romance and won the 2014 Digital Book Award for Adult Fiction. Her book "Deep Blue Eternity" won a "best book" Chatelaine Award for Romantic Fiction. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Georgia Romance Writers, Novelists Inc., and Island Writer's Network in coastal South Carolina. She holds a Bachelor of Science in Psychology and lives with her husband, two sons and the cast of characters in her head. Her books have been translated into Italian, German, French, Turkish and Indonesian.

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Read an excerpt from Vanquishing the Viscount by Elizabeth Keysian

Publication Date: April 9, 2018
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Scandalous, Historical, Romance

Emma Hibbert will never again trust a good-looking man. They offer nothing but heartbreak and humiliation. But her conscience won’t let her abandon a sinfully handsome stranger needing help—even if he ignites an unwelcome passion in her. She soon realizes she should have left him in the mud where she found him, for he has the power to ruin everything… 

Viscount Tidworth is anything but grateful for being rescued after a tumble from his horse. His pretty savior may be well-meaning, but forcing him to delay his journey completely wrecks his engagement plans. And Tidworth cannot let that stand. But when he discovers Emma’s true identity, he must choose between his desire for revenge…and his baffling attraction to her.

Excerpt

James said quietly, "You seemed to be in difficulties when I arrived, Miss Hibbert. I thought I'd rescued you, but you still seem uncomfortable."

She gave a little shrug. "I believe I can deal with Mr. Charles. He was just teasing me."

"We both know what he is. You heard it for yourself that evening his papa rang a peal over him. Don't let him take advantage of your inexperience."

Did that sound pompous?

Yes. It did.

She said tartly, "You're very liberal with your advice, my lord."

"Please, call me James, or Tidworth if you prefer." There was too much sarcasm in the way she said my lord.

"I know my place, my lord."

Clearly, this wasn't going to be easy.

"Forgive me," he said. "But going on past evidence, it seems you do not. However, I didn't come here to cross swords with you. I came to make amends."

She turned and looked up at him, surprised. "To me? I thought you came to see Charles."

"His father, actually. But I was hoping to snatch a few moments alone with you. I've been in an agony of guilt since last Saturday. The way I accused you was inexcusable. I pray I might be forgiven."

Her eyes locked with his, and he couldn't help but notice how brightly the golden irises glistened, and how long her dark eyelashes were.

She bit her lip and said slowly, "Sir, there is nothing to forgive. I now know what I did to you when first we met, and can only say how sorry I am for being so indomitable about your injury. It is I who should ask to be pardoned, not you."

He blinked at her, then looked down at the dusty toes of his riding boots, awash in a mixed knot of emotion. She knew about Belinda. Charles must have told her.

Probably for the best it was out in the open, even if he didn't like the idea of his friend sharing his personal troubles with strangers. A governess, at that.

Though, she'd said she came from an ancient noble family. No doubt true. He could see it in her manners, her looks, and the way she held herself. It would be a crime if Charles decided to seduce her.

The idea of any man seducing her threatened to send his thoughts galloping off in completely the wrong direction. He couldn’t help but flush as he said, "You are forgiven, Miss Hibbert, on one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you must say you forgive me, and agree we'll say no more about it. Let's turn a new page, Miss Hibbert, and try to be friends."

She nodded, and smiled at him, unleashing an intriguing warmth in his gut. That smile…those lips…

"Is— Er, is this your sketchbook I'm carrying?"

He sounded like a stammering idiot. What had happened to that sangfroid?

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About the Author

Elizabeth Keysian felt destined to write historical romance due to her Cornish descent, and an ancestral connection to the Norse god Odin. Being an only child gave her plenty of time to read, create imaginary worlds, produce her own comics, and write sketches and a deplorably bad musical for an amateur dramatics group.

Three decades spent working in museums and archaeology fired Elizabeth’s urge to write, as did living on a Knights Templar estate, with a garage full of skeletons, a resident ghost and a moat teeming with newts.

Elizabeth lives near Bath in England with her partner and cats.

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Spotlight: Royal Attraction by Tiffany Truitt

Royal Attraction
Tiffany Truitt
Published by: Entangled Embrace
Publication date: September 18th 2017
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

Alexandra Ryans’s life has been anything but normal. Some might even call it a fairy tale. As the daughter of the former U.S. ambassador to England, she grew up within the palace walls, best friends with the three young princes. Adored by the press and the British people. What more could a girl want?

If only the press knew the real story behind her relationships with the Dudley boys. Then, they’d really sell some papers.

Oliver Dudley, youngest son and third in line for the throne, loves everything about his life. The fame. The parties. The women. The utter lack of expectations and responsibilities that come with being last in the line of succession. But while the world thinks he has everything he wants, there’s one thing he was never able to call his own—the beautiful and spunky American Aly Ryans. But how can he convince her when she hates everything about his life? And what is he willing to give up to get her?

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EXCERPT:

“I’ll only be here a little while longer, Ollie,” I manage in between breaths. “Then everything can go back to the way it was. Like I never returned.”

The lines in his forehead deepen. “You think that’s what I want? To go back? Tell me your life has been better since you left,” he challenges, raising an eyebrow.

I place my hand against his chest and attempt to push him out of my way, but he doesn’t budge. Not even an inch. Instead, he places a hand against my cheek. I inhale sharply, caught off guard by the sudden gentleness of the action. “You tell me right now that since leaving here your life has been better, that you’re happy, and I’ll walk out of this greenhouse. I’ll pretend that seeing you here doesn’t drive me wild. I’ll ignore all the things my body wants to do to yours. I’ll forget the fact that you leaving without a goodbye wrecked me.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “You wrecked me, Ryans,” he reiterates, his voice desperate.

I prepare to tell him that I’m happier. That life has been easier without being caught between him and Aiden. That I enjoy not having to worry the press is lurking around every corner. That I prefer being a normal girl. That the day we shared together was just that—a day. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t define me.

But the words refuse to come out of my mouth. Instead, a small gasp breaks free, and I know that if I don’t bolt soon, my resolve will shatter. Ollie’s hand slowly trails down my cheek and across the length of my neck, stopping on the delicate skin above my collarbone. My breathing picks up.

Tell him to stop, Alexandra.

He tugs at the collar of my jersey, bringing my face dangerously close to his. I bite down hard on my bottom lip. Ollie’s eyes travel down to my lips. My body gravitates toward his till it’s nearly pressing against the length of him.

When did it become this? This need? Because need is coursing through me like wildfire.

“You said it, Ryans. You won,” he reminds me, his voice all throaty and hoarse and incredibly sexy. “You want me to spend the rest of your time here ignoring all that’s left unanswered between us? Say it. If you desire to go back to that emptiness, that life that you seem so anxious to return to, I won’t stop you. Just say it’s what you want. ’Cause I can’t stand the indecision anymore, the what-ifs. I’ve lived three years of that. Wondering what could have happened if things had been different. ”


Author Bio:

Tiffany Truitt was born in Peoria, Illinois. A self-proclaimed Navy brat, Tiffany spent most of her childhood living in Virginia, but don’t call her a Southerner. She also spent a few years living in Cuba. Since her time on the island of one McDonalds and Banana Rats (don't ask), she has been obsessed with traveling. Tiffany recently added China to her list of travels (hello inspiration for a new book).

Besides traveling, Tiffany has always been an avid reader. The earliest books she remembers reading belong to The Little House on the Prairie Series. First book she read in one day? Little Woman (5th grade). First author she fell in love with? Jane Austen in middle school. Tiffany spent most of her high school and college career as a literary snob. She refused to read anything considered "low brow" or outside the "classics."

Tiffany began teaching middle school in 2006. Her students introduced her to the wide, wonderful world of Young Adult literature. Today, Tiffany embraces popular Young Adult literature and uses it in her classroom.

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