Spotlight: An Unforgettable Christmas by Ginny Baird

He doesn’t remember his past, but could she have a future with him?

Angie Lopez, a widowed mom, works hard at Singleton’s Jewelers. Sam Singleton, her often-irritating boss, hardly does anything besides work. He doesn’t spend time with friends and family, even around the holidays. That’s why Angie’s the one who winds up taking care of him when a head injury leaves him with amnesia.

As Sam attempts to remember who he is, he learns about the luxurious but empty life he leads…and he’s not impressed. Meanwhile, Angie sees a new side of him as he shares Christmas traditions with her, her son Pepe, and her extended family. Angie shares touching, emotional moments with Sam. But if he gets his memories back, what will happen to her heart?

This heartwarming Hallmark romance includes a free original recipe for Arroz Con Pollo (Chicken and Rice.)

Excerpt

Elena initially had been pleased by her daughter’s employment at Singleton’s Jewelers. But before long, she’d started questioning aloud whether the job was the right fit. Sam Singleton worked extremely hard. Those who worked for him were expected to work hard, as well. Which would have been fine, in Elena’s opinion, if that didn’t sometimes entail extra hours. Extra hours without extra pay, since Angie was in a salaried position. Then, there were the additional hours Angie put in processing her accounting reports at home. 

Angie honestly didn’t mind her demanding schedule. She slept better at night when her tasks were wrapped up for the day and not lingering overhead to be tackled tomorrow. 

She sighed and buttoned her coat. “I’ll try to be home by seven, okay? We can all have a nice dinner together then.” 

When Angie turned to go, her mother said, “I don’t know why you continue to work for that man. We don’t need the money that badly. I can take on extra shifts until you find something else.” 

Angie knew that Elena was just being proud—and protective. The truth was, they did need the money. She and her mom were both saving up to purchase a house: some place really nice for Pepe to grow up in. 

“I don’t want another job, Ma.” Angie turned from where she stood on the threshold. “‘That man’ is my boss. And in many ways, he’s a good one.” 

“Ha!” 

“I mean it,” Angie insisted. “He pays me well, and the hours aren’t bad.” She winced at her amendment. “Normally.” 

“Maybe if you explained you have a family—” 

“I can’t risk being unprofessional,” she countered. “Not with so much at stake.” Her gaze flitted to the refrigerator crowded with magnets and a combination of Pepe and Alma’s artwork. Pepe’s latest report card hung there, too, and he’d received very high marks. They were all settling in here. What’s more, Pepe was thriving

“Besides, Sam’s not really that awful. Not really. Not once you get to know him.” Angie shrugged. “He has potential! You know, like a diamond in the rough.” 

Elena studied her daughter and then her tone took on a teasing lilt. “And just who do you suppose will do the shaping and polishing? You?” 

Angie blushed hotly. “Me? No! That’s...that’s not how I look at Sam. He’s my employer. I wouldn’t dream of—” She paused and drew in a breath, surveying Elena. “Just what are you hinting at?” 

Elena’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it. You actually like him.” 

Grab Your Copy:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/34ecn0S

Nook: https://bit.ly/2N1bqTL

iBooks: https://apple.co/2C0sZgF 

Target: https://bit.ly/2ps4SVr

Walmart: https://bit.ly/2JDCOFk 

Hallmark: https://bit.ly/2pwouHQ

About the Author

Whether writing lighthearted romantic comedy or spine-tingling romantic suspense, romance author Ginny Baird delights in delivering heartwarming stories. She is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, a Top 10 Best Seller on Kindle, NOOK and iBooks, and a #1 Best Seller in several Romance and Women's Fiction categories. When she's not writing, Ginny enjoys cooking, biking and spending time with her family in Virginia. Ginny loves hearing from her readers! She invites you to visit her website and connect with her on social media. 

Connect:

Website: https://ginnybairdromance.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/ginnybaird

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/GinnyBairdRomance

Spotlight: The Event by Whitney Dineen

The Event
Whitney Dineen
Publication date: November 1st 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary

There’s a reason Emmeline Frothingham left her hometown of Creek Water, Missouri as soon as humanly possible. That reason is small-minded, judgmental people who wouldn’t know the truth if it was coughed up on them like an errant furball.
After graduating from college, Emmie gets her dream job in New York City. As the head buyer at Silver Spoons–a high-end boutique, and single girl about town, her life is ideal. That is, until the night of The Event, her company’s annual award’s ball at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Nerves plus too much tequila leave Emmie dealing with a wicked hangover, the unemployment line, and a surprise to end all surprises.
Facing the repercussions of her wild night, Emmie is forced to go home to work in her family’s business. But her return puts her dead in the sights of the gossipy country club harpies who drove her away in the first place.
Will Emmie make peace with her past and embrace the love of her family? Will she discover that the man who seems to be judging her most has a secret of his own? Find out in this deliciously fun romantic comedy, sure to put a smile on your face!

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

In my esteemed, but obviously biased opinion, Creek Water, Missouri, population 14,012, is the armpit of the world. Scratch that, it’s a ripe pustulant boil on the butt of the Northern Hemisphere. If it weren’t my hometown, and I weren’t desperate for employment, I’d have never considered moving back. Ever.

I just got off the phone with my Uncle Jed—the Beverly Hillbillies reference is not lost on me—and he’s offered to make me manager of a new commercial venture he and my other uncle Jesse (yes, like Full House) are starting up in the old warehouse district. The revitalization of Creek Water continues as my former peers have discovered that it’s cheaper to live at home and not go out into the real world like I did. Problem is, I got myself into a tiny bit of trouble in the real world.

I was driven in my formative years to prove that I could make something of myself without any backing from the illustrious Frothingham family, of which I am one. I was sick to death of people thinking everything was handed to me on a silver platter just because of my last name. So, I worked hard to get excellent grades in school, and I earned myself a scholarship to college. After graduation, I moved to New York City, determined to leave my small-town, small-minded roots behind. Things were going great too, until The Event.

I worked as head buyer for Silver Spoons Enterprises in Manhattan, an exclusive gourmet/kitchenware boutique chain on the Eastern Seaboard. I was stationed at our flagship location on East Seventy-Third Street.

The Event was the corporate dinner dance at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where all the bigwigs gathered to pat each other on the back and recognize top-performing employees. I thought I was a shoo-in for the Demitasse Award, honoring the most creative contribution to the company during that fiscal year. I was personally responsible for the whole “Linens for Dinner” campaign, which promoted the idea that both urban and suburban millennials only use cloth napkins to dine, thus not only cutting back our carbon footprint by lessening paper waste, but also adding a touch of elegance to our lives. We sold more linens that year than in the previous ten years combined. It was that successful.

So there I sat in my way too expensive dress—I splurged because I knew how important it was to make a good impression on the executives and because it was the perfect little number to accept my honor in—when Jameson Diamante announced the nominees for the Demitasse.

There were only three of us—me with my linen campaign, Juliet Smithers from the Southampton store for her “Drink More Wine!” crusade, and Allison Conrad from Atlanta for her “Pretty Please, Y’all” call to reinstate formal invitations on engraved card stock.

Why don’t we just kill the planet, Allison, with all the trees we’re going to murder for your cause?

I was poised on the edge of my seat ready to throw my hands across my heart and gasp something along the lines of, “What? Me? My word, I’m so surprised!” I’d imagined how I’d get up and show off my six-hundred-dollar understated elegance to the whole room.

Jameson announced, “This year’s decision was not an easy one to make, with all three ladies greatly contributing to our brand, but in the end, we chose the contender who was responsible for the most innovative campaign.”

Here’s where the chain of events gets a wee bit cloudy. I could have sworn he’d called my name, so I stood up as planned, but my good friend and table-mate Lexi says that isn’t what happened at all. Apparently, old Jameson had called out Allison’s name, and she and I both went up to accept the award. How deforesting the planet is innovative, I do not know. I did hear through the corporate grapevine that Allison had gone to Jameson’s hotel room with him before the ceremony like a Kardashian auditioning her new sugar daddy. But I digress. Back to The Event.

I grabbed the silver spoon out my fellow nominee’s hand and proceeded to give my speech. All of it. Which for some reason I was allowed to do. It was a beautiful speech. I thanked my mother for her graciousness and manners, and I thanked my grandmother for teaching me how to fold dinner napkins into swans. I was about to thank Silver Spoons for having the wisdom to hire me, when Allison grabbed the Demitasse out of my hand. I may have chosen that moment to snatch it back and hit her over the head with it—obviously not very hard as she never pressed assault charges, thank God.

It’s all conjecture really. All I can say for certain is that I hastily fled the ceremony, trotting down all eight hundred thousand stairs of the Met in four-inch heels, in a cloud of disgrace and disappointment. I took a cab to a nearby bar, where I proceeded to drink my body weight in tequila before waking up in an unknown apartment in Brooklyn.

Author Bio:

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram


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Spotlight: Room to Breathe by Liz Talley

Guest Post: Starting and Starting Over in Room To Breathe by Liz Talley

Room to Breathe is a story of two southern women at very different stages in their lives who are experiencing the same sense of "starting over.” Daphne Witt is weeks from turning forty, in a career that she never expected, and ready to start dating after a divorce. Her daughter Ellery is essentially untested in the world. Young, beautiful, accustomed to everything going her way, Ellery finds herself with a less than dazzling job, a distracted fiancé and, for the first time ever, doubts about who she is and where she’s going. When the novel begins, we find Daphne dealing with an awakened libido she thought long dead, and Ellery struggling to accept working for her mother and living with a fiancé who has little time for her. Both women redirect their dissatisfaction toward secret desires - Daphne for a much younger contractor, and Ellery for a secret email pal who thinks she’s her mother. Like the vines of a vineyard, things get tangled quickly by decisions that not only threaten the fragile mother-daughter relationship, but each woman's future.

One thing I really like about Daphne is her self-awareness. She’s been content to stand in the wings while everyone else in her life commandeered the spotlight, but now she’s ready to take her turn on the stage. She’s bumbled into a dream she never knew existed as a children’s author, and she’s really good at what she does and becomes an overnight success. But her family, even her ex-husband, can’t seem to let go of the woman she once was. They want the old Daphne, the one who put everyone else before herself. I intentionally gave Daphne a secret crush on a younger man and had her pay attention to her sexuality. Women of a certain age are often set aside, as if their “ sexiness” has a shelf life. I wanted Daphne awakened to the fact that as a woman entering her forties, she still needed intimacy and affection. I wanted her to struggle with the guilt, be tempted, and have a little fun with someone…young enough to date her daughter.

Ellery is the girl I once was. I remember being invincible, tossing my curls over my shoulder as a flounced around in my cheerleading skirt. The world was about me and what I wanted, what I thought I deserved. I wasn’t a bad person, but I do remember my brother once bringing my requested shoes on a throw pillow, bowing, and saying “your slippers, my lady.” I led a charmed life…until life punched me in the face. It has a tendency to do that in your mid-twenties when you find out (gasp!) the world doesn’t revolve around you. So I wanted to take a princess, toss her in the mud, and see what happened. Ellery isn’t always likable, but she’s authentic. And by the end of the book, she sees her mother as a person and not just her mother. Both Ellery and Daphne have a big growth arc in this book.

Room to Breathe has secrets, twists, bad decisions, surprises, and angst, yet it also has humor, heat, and heart tugs. I love the guys in the book - Clay (the hot contractor), Gage (Ellery’s surprise crush) and Evan (the vineyard owner) and I really like the interactions between Ellery and Daphne. I think readers will recognize themselves most in Daphne, but they’ll also remember how hard it is standing on one’s own two feet as Ellery must do. I’m proud of this book about letting go and taking the lemons that life hands you, tossing them, and pouring a glass of wine. Cheers to all the women who aren’t afraid to start over and create their own new paths!

Summary

For a good part of Daphne Witt’s life, she was a supportive wife and dutiful mother. Now that she’s divorced and her daughter, Ellery, is all grown up, Daphne’s celebrating the best part of her life, a successful career, and a flirtation with an attentive hunk fifteen years her junior . . . who happens to be her daughter’s ex-boyfriend.

Ellery is starting over, too. She’s fresh out of college. Her job prospects are dim. And to support her fiancé in med school, she’s returned home as her mother’s new assistant. Ellery never expected her own life plan to take such a detour. With no outlet for her frustration, she lets an online flirtation go a little too far, especially considering her pen pal thinks he’s corresponding with her mother.

As love lives tangle, secrets spill, and indiscretions are betrayed, mother and daughter will have a lot to learn—not only about the mistakes they’ve made but also about the men in their lives and the women they are each hoping to become.

Excerpt

“What are you trying to say?” Daphne asked. Ellery always tried to get her to go to exercise classes, but Daphne preferred running most days. Organized classes had never appealed to her. Exercise was her escape, a time she could jab in her earbuds and listen to podcasts or a book that didn’t feature poodles and tea parties.

“That you isolate yourself out here. Hanging out with Pop Pop and Tippy Lou isn’t exactly being social. You can make friends in these classes, plus use muscles you never knew you had.” Ellery rose and smoothed the T-shirt swing top she wore over a pair of ripped boyfriend jeans. Several strands of delicate gold chain were layered around her neck. Her daughter somehow managed to look stylish and trendy in sloppy clothes. Daphne always looked . . . well, sloppy in sloppy clothes.

“Maybe,” she conceded, only because her daughter was unfortunately correct. She enjoyed visiting her father and playing dominoes with his friends, even if they were out of her age range. And her neighbor Tippy Lou Carmichael, while delightfully droll and enigmatic to the point of oddness, wasn’t going to go shopping with her or out to drinks. Tippy Lou preferred herbal tea on her front porch while she watched the feral cats she fed every morning chase lizards and laze about in her garden.

Daphne had always been the type of person to have only a few close friends. Though she’d cultivated friendships with many of the other teachers at Saint Peter’s Day School, where she’d worked as a teacher’s aide for fifteen years before staying home to write, she’d never been good at being social. She had church friends, a book club, and knew a few local writers who wrote professionally, but her best friend, Karyn Little, had moved to Idaho with her new husband over a year ago.

In a few short years, she’d lost her husband to self-centeredness and her BFF to the land of potatoes.

“Not maybe. Definitely,” Ellery said, looking over at her.

“Maybe I’ll try it.” Going to the class with Ellery might help their relationship, something that Daphne couldn’t seem to get back on track. She didn’t know what was wrong, how she should act, whether she should have given Ellery a job or not. Daphne had only wanted to make things better for Ellery. That’s what every mother did, right?

But Ellery had grown more and more distant over the past few months. Daphne suspected that it had something to do with something Rex had said, but Ellery wouldn’t open up. Any time Daphne asked her what was bothering her or if she wanted to talk, her daughter would tell her everything was “fine.” She’d begun to hate that word.

“I’m pretty much done for the day. I have to mail these packages. These are a few of the winners from your online party.” Ellery picked up a bag full of colorful pink envelopes, walked out the door and right into Clay.

“Whoa, hey, Elle,” he said, grabbing her elbow and steadying her. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I saw you last week at Elmo’s,” Ellery said, shrugging off Clay’s hand. “But I guess you were too trashed to remember?”

“Hey, I was celebrating a new contract, but, yeah, I guess I had a few too many.”

“Honestly, Clay, it’s time you grew up,” Ellery said, pushing past him before spinning back. The Tom Ford scent she wore tickled Daphne’s nose.

“Guys never grow up, do we?” Clay joked.

“Some don’t.” Ellery gave him a flat look.

Her daughter had dated several guys in high school but had been tight-lipped when it came to information on what had happened between her and Clay. Daphne vaguely remembered a dustup with the head cheerleader for a rival school. Ellery had been only a sophomore, and Daphne remembered Clay being her daughter’s first heartbreak. Ellery had rebounded quickly with the quarterback for the Riverton Falcons. She had an uncanny ability to hook a new, even cuter guy after each successive breakup through high school and college.

Point in case—Josh was so pretty angels sang when he walked by.

Daphne still didn’t know her soon-to-be son-in-law very well because he was always studying, but he seemed to truly care about her daughter. And that was what mattered most.

“I’m out, y’all.” Ellery disappeared.

Clay turned his pretty blue eyes on Daphne. “Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to get your opinion on the marble. They sent two different samples in your color range. One has a lot of movement, the other is pretty simple.”

“Sure, I’ll take a look,” Daphne said, following him outside her office and into the heat of late morning.

Ellery tossed the bag of packages into the narrow back seat of her sleek new Lexus and gave them an absentminded wave.

“She’s a firecracker,” Clay said with a smile before jogging down the front porch steps. Today he wore a T-shirt. Thank God. The jeans fit him like a second skin, though. So now she had to contend with the butt thing.

Not only had she practically drooled over a shirtless Clay yesterday, but she’d actually rated the bag boy’s backside that morning at the grocery store. Thankfully Steve the bag boy was older than Clay, but she was now convinced her libido had written a memo titled “Take Care of Your Sexuality before You Mount the Bag Boy.” She wondered if something was wrong with her hormones. Or maybe she was ovulating. Something other than going middle-aged crazy.

Wait, was turning forty years old hitting middle age?

Nah. And technically she was still thirty-nine for the next two months.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Barnes and Noble

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 welcoming. She 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.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.liztalleybooks.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/amyliztalley

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3849442.Liz_Talley

Spotlight: The Black Widow by Christa Simpson

The Black Widow
Christa Simpson
(Dark Secrets Duet #2)
Publication date: October 28th 2019
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller

Day by day, piece by piece, he puts it all together. What will happen when he finally realizes what I’ve done?

There was a time when I thought I was simply a magnet for trouble. Now I know better. If you want to call me the Black Widow, I’m going to own it. You want a monster? I’ll give you one. I’ll alienate you from everything you know and love. You will learn the hard way that evil doesn’t only lurk in our imaginations.

The tall, dark and handsome cop would be well-advised to steer clear of me. He knows better than to get tangled in the web I’ve weaved. I warned him. I told him not to mess with me if he values his life. You’re probably wondering what’ll happen when my darkest truths unravel. It’s not my problem anymore. If he sticks around, he will be the author of his own misfortune.

Caught in my own dangerous game of elimination, will he be the last nail in my coffin?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Smashwords

$2.99 on release week only!

EXCERPT:

Ignorance truly is bliss. My car pulls away from the curb, my tousled hair dancing in the wind as if our autumn is unseasonably warm. You can’t believe everything you see. In all honesty, it’s not that warm. I have a chill running through my body that I can’t escape. I probably would have closed my car window a long time ago, if I could have, but it’s stuck halfway down. I’m just lucky the raincloud over there is keeping its distance. Lucky. Hah! I’m lucky like that man up ahead.

Look at his tidy pile of leaves. He probably spent his entire morning raking those things into a heap next to the curb and is proud of himself for beating the rain. I smirk at the rotund, older man in his front yard. He hasn’t even had enough time to put away his rake. Instead, he stands there proudly, leaning against the handle and scratching his overfed belly. I can’t resist. Someone has handed this opportunity to me, and I simply can’t pass it up.

My foot presses deeper into the accelerator, thrusting my small car forward. I glare at the old man from beneath dark lashes. His eyes immediately connect with mine, begging me to rethink what I’m about to do. That only encourages me further. I veer toward the pile, blasting through the leaves and cheering with a crazed depth to my voice.

“Woooooo!”

I feel so alive. When the old man stumbles after me, frantically waving his hands with leaves raining around him, I smile harder. A smile. For the longest time, I forgot my mouth could even do that. It feels like my world has shifted, though, and maybe, just maybe things are looking up for me. I force the images of my tormented childhood down, forgetting about my mother’s wasted apologies and the gurgling sound that came from my father’s throat when he drowned before my very eyes. I’ve blown through enough of my life boo-hooing over them. No more.

I carry on down the road, wearing a real smile—not the fake one I wore throughout my unfortunate youth, being spread between perverted foster fathers and overbearing relatives who wanted to make themselves feel better by sporadically treating me like family. No, remembering how I was pawned off to the system never helps. This is why my smiles never last long.

With a deep breath, my smile wilts, but I remind myself that I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m finally free of those people and their unanswered promises. No one’s in charge of my destiny but me. I have to grab life by the balls and make shit happen. Just because my late parents had a few screws loose, doesn’t mean I have to be stuck in my own self-inflicted hell, right? Right?

I pause at a yellow light and proceed into the intersection, flicking on my left turn signal as I make the turn in front of an oncoming sports car. It’s a dumb move. Traffic is thick, and the dude driving the small, black car is in a hurry to go nowhere. He swerves around my rear bumper and lays on his horn. I flip him the bird and hold it there for a few long seconds, completely lost in my own world. I forget to reacquaint myself with the car in front of me. Traffic is now at a standstill.

I quickly jam onto my brake, but I’m screwed. My balding tires argue with the pavement and make a loud screeching noise while my front-end slams into the car in front of me. A loud popping noise is the only warning I have before wearing a face full of airbag. I don’t care if it looks like a fluffy cloud; it feels like a brick wall, and I wonder if I have a broken nose. I struggle to breathe as I push the bag out of my face and clutch at my nose, sighing deeply, choking on the stale air.

Way to go, Clarisse.

“Are you okay?” a man shouts, reaching through my half-open window and tearing my car door from its hinges to pull me free of the wreckage. He thinks my window is broken because of the accident, and I’m going to let him keep on thinking that.

I’m still holding my nose when I collapse into his arms and look up into apologetic eyes. “I’ve had better days,” I admit.

“But you’re alive.”

The corners of my lips quirk upwards oh so slightly. “There’s that.”

He helps me right myself, and I push off of him once I regain my footing. “My bumper didn’t even see you coming,” he says with a smile.

I assess the damage. My scrappy little car is banged up pretty good, but it’ll drive. The back end of his car sits on the ground in a heap of ruin. “Is it true that they can pick that thing up and reattach it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know. See the way the fender is curled under. That’ll be a hard fix.”

I nod, wondering if I should throw my entire first year of college away and run for the hills. The dark cloud that had been following me finally catches up. My eyes wander to the bystanders who scatter for cover as droplets of rain start to pelt the pavement.

“I can’t afford to fix your car.” I look back to him, trying not to admire his clean-cut military hairstyle. “I’m sorry but I just can’t.”

His eyes sink into mine while he thinks on it, the rain quickly dampening his clothes and mine. He takes my hand to get my attention. It works.

“What do you say we talk to these nice policemen over here and then I take you out for a coffee? I’m sure we can work something out.”


Author Bio:

Christa Simpson is the Bestselling Author of contemporary romances with a twist and dark, twisty psychological thrillers. Her stories are loaded with passion, suspense and sarcasm. She’s a small-town Canadian girl living in Southwestern, Ontario, with her husband and two beautiful daughters. Check out her stories and get ready for some emotionally charged entertainment!

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Spotlight: She’s Got Soul by Aja

Zola Lewis is many things to many people. She’s a marketing extraordinaire by day, and a podcast host by night. She’s also a devoted daughter, a funny and care giving auntie to her sister’s daughter. But, the one thing she is not, is a wife to a loving husband and she’s beginning to think that could never happen because she’s entirely too opinionated for most men. One night on her live podcast, she experienced a challenging caller who seemed to aggravate her more than a little, and Zola wondered who was more opinionated. Zola or the caller?

Khalil Berry was a bit of a nerd growing up, and as a result, also a bit of a late bloomer. Time not spent with girls allowed him to stick with books. His big brain landed him many opportunities and by his mid-twenties, he’d amassed a fortune from his software apps. The latest app he’s developing requires more hands on research and he decides to do the research himself. First stop, listening to a podcast by a woman talking about women; a topic he was beginning to learn more about since his money seems attracts them all the time. The task was simple, listen and take notes. But, her voice is too melodic and her words, well, let’s just say she didn’t know what she was talking about as far as he was concerned. So he calls in to correct her.

They’re both great at giving a piece of their mind, but can they hand over their well-guarded hearts?

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Aja is the writer of sensually erotic and passionate women’s fiction. Her stories allow readers to experience realistic, inspiring, and soulful interactions and intense passion while overcoming life’s challenges. She is inspired by soulful music and sensual art to craft her stories. Her published works include the Love & Passion series and the Love & Redemption series. Her newest release, She’s Got Soul is book 1 in the Soulmates series.

CONNECT WITH AJA: AUTHOR SITE | FACEBOOKTWITTER | INSTAGRAMNEWSLETTER | AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

Spotlight: See Me by Michele Arris

About See Me:

When a ruthless casino developer threatens everything she holds dear, bakery store owner Kennedi Chase cooks up an unconventional plan to protect her family legacy. She may despise Trenton Shaw’s plans, but why does he have to be so wickedly charming and sexy?

A brutal divorce has left developer Trenton Shaw with a bitter taste towards women and little patience for anything that disrupts his goals. The new parking garage on the Washington D.C. Wharf is essential to his casino. No little cake baker is going to get in his way, no matter how gorgeous, tenacious, or tempting he might find her kisses.

There’s no denying the sizzling hot attraction as professional entanglements become highly personal. But when Trenton confronts Kennedi with a secret that could destroy her family, she’s forced into a desperate choice. How can she make him see his ambitions could destroy her dreams? Can she teach him to see that sometimes the best way to win is to surrender?

Exclusive Excerpt

“Trent, I—”

“What can I do to persuade you to tell me your name?” he cut in. “Perhaps we could discuss it more over dinner. For now, I’d settle for a dance. I like this song.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t dance?” 

“Yes, but,” she looked around, “no one’s dancing.” 

“It’s just a dance…unless you need to get your boyfriend’s permission.” He delivered a playful wiggle of dark eyebrows.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a boyfriend?”

“Precisely.” 

Boyfriend? What’s that? Twenty-eight and no prospects. Who has time for a relationship? “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

“Good to know.” His impish grin stretched wide. “One dance won’t hurt anything. And you look much too beautiful in that dress to not stand center stage.” 

Without waiting for a reply, he took her glass and set it along with his on the table, then rested a palm at the low vee of the dress at her exposed spine, the tips of his fingers stealing a graze of her skin as he led her just to the edge of the dance floor. Large, formidable hands fitted easily to the curves of her hips and drew her in close. With her black beaded purse pressed against his back in one hand, she planted the other firmly on his shoulder, setting and dictating the distance between them.

Kennedi took a look around. “Trust me, this outfit offers no obscurity. I think I’m the only one here in red.”

“You’ve made it my new favorite color.” 

She hooded her gaze just a touch and gave a slight, probing push. “Is this the charming side of you, Trent?”

“Is it working?” He coaxed her in a bit more, their hips making contact as the melodious tempo of Jai Wolf’s “Like It’s Over” had them falling into a natural rhythm. 

Soon, others joined them, filling up the narrow parquet hardwood floor. 

“To think I almost didn’t show tonight. I would’ve missed out on something wonderful.”

Kennedi regarded his smooth-shaven features and on up to eyes that appeared more gray than blue when the glimmer of chandelier crystals caught hold. “And what might that be?”

“Cantaloupe-bacon cuisine.” He smiled a wickedly beautiful smile, that amplified his easy good looks.

Laughter broke from her that couldn’t be contained as realization hit full force: she’d have to come up with another plan. “I tell you what, if you guess the first letter in my name, I’ll tell you what it is…but you can’t just trail down the alphabet.”

“Okay. G for Ginger.”

She drew back, brow raised. “You think I look like a Ginger?”

“Hmm, you’re right. Not Ginger. More like C for Candy?” He laughed with eyes dipping to her breasts. “Just kidding.”

“Real funny.” She grinned back at his cheerful expression and was quite surprised by jaunty demeanor as he lightly slipped a caressing hand up and down her bare back while trying out a few more names that didn’t stick.

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About the Author

Michele Arris is an award-winning author whose debut book, Devil’s Deal, won the 2015 Romance Writers of America, Golden Heart award in the Erotic Romance category. She has always had a fondness for romance and happy endings. Even when she’s not seated in front of her computer, shaping bad-ass alpha heroes who meet their match in strong, hardworking heroines, she’s plotting scenes in her head. She lives in the Washington D.C. area. Get to know more about Michele by visiting her website at michelearris.com. Find her also on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. 

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