Spotlight: Pretending by Holly Bourne

In this hilarious and heartbreaking debut novel perfect for fans of Fleabag, a woman struggling to move on after a traumatic relationship pretends to be “the perfect girl” in an act of vengeance that goes awry when she finds herself emotionally compromised.

He said he was looking for a 'partner in crime' which everyone knows is shorthand for 'a woman who isn't real'.

April is kind, pretty, and relatively normal - yet she can't seem to get past date five. Every time she thinks she's found someone to trust, they reveal themselves to be awful, leaving her heartbroken. And angry. Until she realizes that what men are really looking for is Gretel.

Gretel is perfect - beautiful but low maintenance, sweet but never clingy, sexy but not a slut. She's a Regular Everyday Manic Pixie Dream Girl Next Door With No Problems.

When April starts pretending to be Gretel, dating becomes much more fun - especially once she reels in the unsuspecting Joshua. Finally, April is the one in control, but can she control her own feelings? And as she and Joshua grow closer, how long will she be able to keep pretending?

Excerpt

I hate men.

There, I’ve said it. I know you’re not supposed to say it. We all pretend we don’t hate them; we all tell ourselves we don’t hate them. But I’m calling it. I’m standing here on this soapbox, and I’m saying it.

I. Hate. Men.

I mean, think about it. They’re just awful. I hate how selfish they are. How they take up so much space, assuming it’s always theirs to take. How they spread out their legs on public transport, like their balls need regular airing to stop them developing damp. I hate how they basically scent mark anywhere they enter to make it work for them. Putting on the music they want to listen to the moment they arrive at any house party, and always taking the nicest chair. How they touch your stuff instead of just looking; even tweak the furniture arrangement to make it most comfortable for them. All without asking first—never asking first.

I hate how they think their interests are more important than yours—even though twice a week all most of them do is watch a bunch of strangers kick a circle around a piece of lawn and sulk if the circle doesn’t go in the right place. And how bored they look if you ever try to introduce them to a film, a band, or even a freaking YouTube clip, before you’ve even pressed Play.

I hate their endless arrogance. I hate how they interrupt you and then apologize for it but carry on talking anyway. How they ask you a question but then check your answer afterward. I hate how they can never do one piece of housework without telling you about it. I hate how they literally cannot handle being driven in a car by a woman, even if they’re terrible drivers themselves. I hate how they all think they’re fucking incredible at grilling meat on barbecues. The sun comes out and man must light fire and not let woman anywhere near the meat. Dumping blackened bits of chicken onto our plates along with the whiff of a burp from their beer breath, acting all caveman, like we’re supposed to find it cute that we may now get salmonella and that we’re going to have to do all the washing up.

I hate how I’m quite scared of them. I hate the collective noise of them when they’re in a big group. The tribal wahey-ing, like they all swap their IQs for extra testosterone when they swarm together. How, if you’re sitting alone on an empty train, they always come and deliberately sit next to you en masse, and talk extra loudly about macho nonsense, apparently to impress you. I hate the way they look at you when you walk past—automatically judging your screwability the moment they see you. Telling you to smile if you dare look anything other than delighted about living with stuff like this constantly fucking happening to you. 

I hate how hard they are to love. How many of them actually, truly, think the way to your heart is sending you a selfie of them tugging themselves, hairy ball sack very much still in shot. I hate how they have sex. How they shove their fingers into you, thinking it’s going to achieve anything. Jabbing their unwashed hands into your dry vagina, prodding about like they’re checking for prostate cancer, then wondering why you now have BV and you still haven’t come. Have none of them read a sex manual? Seriously? None of them? And I hate how they hate you a little just after they’ve finished. How even the nice ones lie there with cold eyes, pretending to cuddle, but clearly desperate to get as far away from you as possible.

I hate how it’s never equal. How they expect you to do all the emotional labor and then get upset when you’re the more stressed-out one. I hate how they never understand you, no matter how hard they try, although, let’s be honest here, they never actually try that hard. And I hate how you’re always exhausting yourself trying to explain even the most basic of your rational emotional responses to their bored face.

I hate how every single last one of them has issues with their father.

And do you know what I hate most of all?

That despite this, despite all this disdain, I still fancy men. And I still want them to fancy me, to want me, to love me. I hate myself for how much I want them. Why do I still fancy men so much? What’s wrong with me? Why are they all so broken? Am I broken for still wanting to be with one, even after everything? I should be alone. That’s the only healthy way to be. BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE. I hate men, that’s the problem. GOD I HATE THEM SO MUCH—they’re so entitled and broken and lazy and wrong and…and…

Hang on…

My phone.

HE MESSAGED BACK!!!

WITH A KISS ON THE END!

Never mind.

Forget I said anything. It’s all good.

Excerpted from Pretending by Holly Bourne, Copyright © 2020 by Holly Bourne. Published by MIRA Books. 

Buy on Amazon | Audible

About the Author

Holly Bourne is a bestselling UK-based YA and Adult Fiction author and is an Ambassador for Women’s Aid. In 2019, she was an Author of the Day at the London Book Fair, and was named by Elle Magazine’s weekly podcast as one of “Six Female Authors Changing the Conversation in 2019”. Pretending is her US debut.

Connect:

Author website: https://hollybourne.co.uk/

Twitter: @holly_bourneYA

Instagram: @hollybourneya

Facebook: @Holly.BourneYA

Spotlight: The Wife He Needs by Brenda Jackson

Will this billionaire bachelor say “I do” to love? He desires her more than any other woman. 

The arrangement is simple: a two-week getaway, then a marriage of convenience. Until Garth Outlaw’s potential bride is a no-show. Now family pilot Regan Fairchild is sharing his bed—and he can’t get enough…even though he’s vowed never to love again. Can Regan convince him the wife he needs and the woman he desires are one and the same?

Excerpt

“So, when is the wedding, Garth?”

Garth Outlaw raised his eyes from studying his cards. Was his brother playing mind games to mess with his concentration?

“And just what wedding are you talking about?”

Garth glanced around the table and saw the smirks on the faces of all four of his brothers. Even Jess had made a trip home from the nation’s capital for a week long visit.

“Is anyone going to answer?” Garth asked.

Jess grinned as he threw out a card. “I heard it from Dad the moment I walked through the door. He claims you’ve gotten over Karen Piccard, decided to settle down and do whatever needs to be done for the benefit of the company, which includes getting a wife and making babies to guarantee the Outlaw dynasty. Those were his words, not mine.”

“We heard the same thing,” Cash said, with Sloan and Maverick nodding in agreement.

Garth didn’t say anything. Being the oldest son of Bartram “Bart” Outlaw wasn’t easy, especially when his father liked spreading information that wasn’t true. However, in this case, it was. At least partly. He was planning to do what needed to be done for the company. But he seriously doubted he would ever get over Karen. She would always have his heart.

“No wedding date has been set because I haven’t chosen a bride.”

His brother Cash sat up straight in his chair. “Are you really thinking about settling down with a wife and making babies?” he asked, as if the thought of doing such a thing was as unheard of as living in outer space.

Garth threw out some chips. “Why not? I don’t see any of you guys rushing to the altar to continue the Outlaw legacy. Not even you, Jess, and you’re the politician in the family. You of all people should be thinking about acquiring a wife.” A couple of years ago, Jess had gotten elected as a senator from Alaska.

A grin touched Jess’s lips. “No, thank you. I’m not ready to fall in love.”

Garth shrugged. “Who said anything about falling in love?”

“You’re thinking of marrying a woman you don’t love?” This question came from Sloan. 

“For me there’s no other way.”

There was no reason to explain what he meant. They knew.

“And you’ll do it because Bart says it needs to be done?”

Garth rolled his eyes at his youngest brother, Maverick, who’d been quiet up to now. “No, I’ll consider doing it because I think it’s about time I settled down. I’m thirty-eight, and dating gets old.”

“Speak for yourself,” Maverick said, grinning. “I happen to enjoy dating a lot of women.”

Garth shook his head. “And Walker got me thinking. Look how long he was a loner before he got married. If he can do it, then anyone can.”

Walker Rafferty was Garth’s best friend. A couple of years ago, Walker had met his current wife and now they were parents to twins, a boy and a girl they’d named Walker and Westlyn. Nobody thought Walker would ever remarry after losing his first wife and son in a car accident. Surprisingly, ten years later, Walker had fallen in love again. Garth was happy for Walker, and inspired to settle down, but honestly, he couldn’t see himself falling in love. He was convinced Karen was the only woman he was meant to love.

Buy on Amazon | Audible

About the Author

Brenda Jackson is a New York Times bestselling author of more than one hundred romance titles. Brenda lives in Jacksonville, Florida, and divides her time between family, writing and traveling. Email Brenda at authorbrendajackson@gmail.com or visit her on her website at brendajackson.net.

Spotlight: Judge’s Girls by Sharina Harris

Family is what you make it.

Three very different women. Only one thing in common. But when their family patriarch dies and they must share his estate, the truths they discover will test them—and everything they think they know about each other.

Beloved Georgia judge Joseph Donaldson was known for his unshakable fairness, his hard-won fortune—and a scandalous second marriage to his much-younger white secretary. Now he's left a will with a stunning provision. In order to collect their inheritance, his lawyer daughter Maya, her stepmother Jeanie, and Jeanie’s teen daughter, Ryder, must live together at the family lake house. Maya and Jeanie don’t exactly get along, but they reluctantly agree to try an uneasy peace for as long as it takes . . .

But fragile ex-beauty queen Jeanie doesn’t know who she is beyond being a judge’s wife—and drinking away her insecurities has her in a dangerous downward spiral. Fed up with her mother’s humiliating behavior, Ryder tries to become popular at school in all the wrong ways. And when Maya attempts to help, she puts her successful career and her shaky love life at risk. Now with trouble they didn’t see coming—and secrets they can no longer hide—these women must somehow find the courage to admit their mistakes, see each other for who they really are—and slowly, perhaps even joyfully, discover everything they could be.

Excerpt

Pastor Davies strode toward the solid oak lectern, a thick, maroon-colored Bible in hand. Sunshine streaming through the stained glass cast red and green lights against his weathered face. “Let the church say amen.” “

Amen,” the congregation responded. I couldn’t. My throat felt like grains of sand in an hourglass. A hundred pairs of eyes were aimed at me, watching my every move even though they couldn’t see me through the black lace veil covering my face. I stroked a coin, Daddy’s lucky penny, between my forefinger and thumb. The cool from the copper soothed me.

“Oh, Lawd.” Aunt Lisa waved a black lace handkerchief in the air, her arms jiggling with the motion. “Not my baby, sweet Jesus. Not. My. Baby!” Aunt Lisa jumped from the seat and walk-hopped to the front of the church. She threw herself on the black and silver casket, moaning and groaning and body shaking.

That’s right, Aunt Lisa. Give them a show. Move the attention away from me.

“Take me instead, Lord!” Aunt Lisa patted her chest and looked toward Black Jesus in the mural above the baptism pool. My daddy’s other sister, Aunt Eloisa, wailed from the pew. She didn’t dare run up like Aunt Lisa. Aunt Eloisa had bad knees, bad ankles, bad joints—bad everything if you let her tell it. Daddy would hate this. He hated spectacles and pomp and circumstance. If he were here, he’d tell Aunt Lisa to sit down and tell Pastor Davies to get on with it. But if he were here, he’d be alive. And I wouldn’t be at his funeral. Exhausted from crying myself to sleep. Exhausted from heaving the two crackers I’d just managed to swallow before my stomach churned. Exhausted from taking care of my stepsister. Exhausted from making sure my stepmother hadn’t burned the house down.

Pastor Davies looked over his shoulder and nodded to the minister seated to the right of the pulpit. I couldn’t remember his name, but he’d always been nice the few times I’d attended service. He sighed and hefted his portly physique up. The chair squeaked and shifted, as the red velvet cushion on top of the chair rose like dough. “All right, Sister Lisa.” The minister’s soothing and patient voice could barely be heard over the wails. “Go on back to the pew, now. Sit down with your family.”

 Aunt Clara Bell, my great-aunt who’d raised Daddy and his sisters after my grandmother died, waved Aunt Lisa back. “Come sit down, so we can pay our respects to Joe. It’s a funeral, not The Price Is Right.” Aunt Lisa wailed louder. Minister Simpson, who’d been seated toward the left side of the pulpit, gently grabbed her elbow and guided her away from the casket. She slumped from his grip like a toddler in the throes of a tantrum. Her black, mad-hatter hat fell to the ground, as she flopped onto the floor and howled. “Hush now,” the minister’s voice grew agitated. “Judge Joe’s in a better place.”

In a better place. What better place could there be than here with me? The tsunami was building, churning my insides, flooding my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I was angry—so damn angry and hurt. I couldn’t move past the vow he’d made twenty-two years ago. He should be here. He promised. The penny heated between my fingers, but I couldn’t stop rubbing it. I couldn’t stop the memories from bowling me over.

“Swear it, Daddy. Swear on your lucky penny that you’ll never leave me.” Daddy, so big and so strong, was like the oak tree in our backyard that I’d loved to climb—solid and steadfast. But the day Mama died he’d fallen, and he’d crumbled. And at five years old I didn’t know what was scarier—Mama’s lifeless body or Daddy’s lifeless eyes. I don’t know if it was my small fists banging on his legs, or the tears that soaked his pants, but he suddenly dropped to his knees. His brown eyes glistened with a wetness that left me cold even though the sun warmed my skin. He looked at me, and he saw me. He choked on a breath as if he were coming back to life. He took the penny from my fingers and vowed, “I promise, Maya. I’m here to stay.” I believed him. But I’m not five years old anymore. Twenty-seven years old, mad at the world, mad at God. Mad at Daddy for saddling me with his second wife, Jeanie, who couldn’t bear to see his casket. So instead of sitting in the pew with his family, she’d run out of the sanctuary and locked herself in the bathroom. After everything Daddy endured for that woman: my family giving him crap for marrying a white woman fifteen years his junior, his so-called friends freezing him out because they didn’t think it was right. And how had she repaid him? With cowardice.

 Sniffles cut through my fog of anger. Ryder. My shadow. The only good thing Jeanie had done with her life had been birthing a beautiful and brilliant daughter. The squeeze from Ryder’s hand gave me a sliver of comfort. Though, from the red that inflamed her baby blues, and from the puffy bags under her eyes, she needed comforting, too.

 I tilted my head on her shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. “We’ll be okay,” I managed to whisper. Her arm squeezed my waist.

“Promise?” Her voice shaky and desperate, much like my own when I’d asked Daddy the same request. I wanted to give her the world, but I couldn’t utter the lie. But I did stop rubbing the penny. It wasn’t lucky after all.

Buy on Amazon | Audible

Sharina Harris earned her Bachelor of Arts degree from Georgia State University. After college, she pursued a career in digital marketing and public relations. Although her profession required writing, she decided to pursue a career in writing in 2012.

Sharina’s contemporary romance series under the pen name, Rina Gray, was named Book Riot’s 100 Must‑Read Romantic Comedies. When Sharina’s not writing, she can be found with her head stuck in a book, rooting for her favorite NBA teams, and spending time with friends and family.

CONNECT WITH SHARINA HARRIS: AUTHOR SITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | NEWSLETTER | GOODREADS | BOOKBUB | AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spotlight: His Holiday Prayer by Tina Radcliffe

A new beginning could be closer than he thinks. What he wants for Christmas may not be what he needs. After receiving an unexpected job offer in Texas, widower Tucker Rainbolt decides he and his twins need a fresh start. But moving on means leaving his best friend, Jena Harper, and their vet clinic behind. For the first time, Tucker sees Jena as more than a buddy. What if leaving isn’t the answer? Maybe what he’s been missing has been right beside him the whole time…From Harlequin Love Inspired: Uplifting stories of faith, forgiveness and hope.

Excerpt

“Looking good, Muffin.” Jena Harper examined the suture line on the English bulldog, then removed her gloves with a snap. She gave the dog a gentle massage behind the ears before turning her over to the clinic technician.

“Any special orders, Dr. Harper?” Pilar Lopez asked.

“No, her incision looks great. Give the Tuttles a call and let them know their princess is ready to pick up.” Jena glanced at the clock. “Remind them that the clinic closes early on Saturdays.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thanks, Pilar. And thank you for working overtime until we find a second tech,” Jena said.

“No problem, Doc. Mind if I take off after I call? My son has a scout meeting.”

“Go ahead, and have a great rest of the weekend.” Jena headed to the sink, scrubbed her hands and rinsed them before pushing through the swinging door to the staff area where her partner at Rebel Vet and Rescue, Tucker Rainbolt, stood at the counter in the file room, documenting in a patient chart.

“Thanks for handling those last few appointments, Tucker,” she said. 

He yawned and ran a hand through short, caramel-colored hair. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yes, but you already put in the entire morning out at Rebel Ranch treating that stallion.”

“Small animals are a nice change of pace from the equine clinic. Hopefully Monday and Tuesday will be quiet for you, since I won’t be around to help.”

“Ah, yes. You’re headed to Texas.” She shook her head. “Explain to me why you’d want to speak at a university whose football team annihilated us this year?”

Tucker chuckled. “Life is not just about animals and Oklahoma State football, Jena.”

She opened her lab coat to show off her OSU Cowboys black-and-orange sweatshirt, which managed to be both gaudy and tacky. “Says who?”

He stopped writing and looked at her. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“I consider that a compliment.”

“Don’t you ever feel a little stifled in Rebel?” he asked.

“No. I love this town.” Rebel was idyllic. Small enough that you knew nearly everyone’s name. Then from Memorial Day to Labor Day, the population swelled with tourists. There was always something going on thanks to nearby Rebel Lake and Keystone Lake. Yes, Rebel, Oklahoma, was pretty much perfect.

“Hmm,” Tucker murmured. “I guess the difference is that you don’t have two older brothers who hover over you at every turn.”

“You have a supportive family who are concerned about your well-being. You’re very fortunate.” Tucker had no clue what it was like to have zero family, and she prayed he’d never know that feeling of being alone in the world.

“Yeah. Extremely fortunate,” Tucker agreed. “But all that concern comes at a price.” He released a slow breath. 

“I’ll forever be the little brother. Even more so since we lost Levi and Megan.”

Jena grimaced. It hadn’t been her intention to bring up memories of those dark times when Tucker lost both his wife and his younger brother in separate incidents but so close together.

“It’s not their fault,” he said. “And it is getting better since both Reece and Mitch got married. Eventually, the folks in this town will ease off, too.”

“The town?”

“Jena, the pastor’s wife will pick up her dog shortly. When she does, she’ll bring me a casserole. The woman has had my name on her outreach calendar for over four years, since Megan passed. When I suggest removing me, she won’t hear of it. Ridiculous, but there it is.”

“Oh, wow. I had no idea. And I feel like a jerk of a friend for not noticing. I’m sorry, Tucker.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me with kid gloves.”

She chuckled. “No, I can’t say that I do.” Often the two of them had running disagreements about all sorts of things. She definitely had no fear of telling him the truth about…pretty much everything. That’s what made them such good friends. They could and did talk.

“Sometimes, I wonder if maybe there’s something else out there for me.” Tucker stared through the storefront window of the clinic as though he was a million miles away from Rebel.

Panic gripped Jena around the middle as the reality of his words sank in. “You’re not thinking of leaving Rebel, are you?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Good.”

When the front door bells chimed, they both turned toward the sound. 

Tucker followed Jena to the reception area just in time to see Saylor Tuttle sashay through the doggie entrance, holding a foil-covered pan and bringing with her the unmistakable scents of gardenia perfume and tomato sauce, along with a chilly late October breeze.

“Tucker,” she said. “So glad you’re still here.” The pastor’s wife slid the casserole onto the counter and then patted her sky-high, silver bouffant hair.

Turning slightly toward Jena, Tucker raised his brows with a ‘see what I mean’ expression.

“Thank you, Mrs. Tuttle.” He smiled. “You know you can take me off the list any time now, right?”

“Nonsense. It’s an honor for the ladies’ outreach to assist you during this difficult time.”

“Let me go get Muffin,” he said.

“Muffin is healing nicely,” Jena said to Mrs. Tuttle. “Keep the E-collar on to prevent her from messing with the incision line and continue cleaning the area as you have been.”

The older woman leaned across the counter. “You know, honey, if you’d marry him, I could take him off my calendar.”

“Excuse me?” Jena inched away from the desk, eyes rounding as she processed the woman’s words. “Are you talking about Tucker?”

“Who else? He’s a catch and you’re the most likely candidate.”

Jena took a breath. It wouldn’t do to insult the pastor’s wife, so she measured her response. “Tucker and I are friends. We went to college together and started the clinic together. I’m the twins’ godmother.” She raised a hand, then lowered it to the counter, still stunned. Never in a couple zillion years would she ruin their friendship and their professional bond by crossing that line.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Tina Radcliffe has been dreaming and scribbling for years. Originally from Western NY, she left home for a tour of duty with the Army Security Agency stationed in Augsburg, Germany, and ended up in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  Her past careers include: Certified Oncology R.N. and library cataloger.  She recently moved from Denver, Colorado, to the Phoenix, Arizona area, where she writes heartwarming and fun inspirational romance.

Spotlight: Gold by Maureen A. Miller

Publication date: November 16th 2020
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

Dig deep enough and you will strike danger.

It was the middle of January in Southeastern Alaska. Sara Eckert anticipated at least another two months of vacancy in her remote bed & breakfast. Until he showed up. A man not interested in hiking, fishing, or hunting. So, why was he there?

Two miners have gone missing. Their disappearance has been ruled accidental. To the firm that sent them to Alaska, that answer is unacceptable. Luke Reis has been dispatched to learn more. Gaining access to the remote wilderness isn’t so simple, though. He’ll have to enlist the owner of the Marmot Hideaway to help get him started.

As Luke and Sara dig deeper into the disappearance of the miners, they edge closer to passion. But the abandoned network of underground mines may stake the ultimate claim…their lives.

This is a standalone romantic suspense included a series with a similar theme.

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2020 Maureen A. Miller

Cover art by Angela Waters Art, LLC.

It was early. Only hearty fishermen were out and about on the dock right now. The rain tapered to a fine haze, and the fog receded enough to network through the spruce treetops like God had spilled a bottle of cotton balls down the mountain. 

Retreating into the cabin, she grabbed the thermal mug of coffee and took a lukewarm sip. Between the groan of the Tub against the pier, and the gentle slosh of the tide slapping its hull, she was lulled into mental hibernation.

Until she saw him.

He didn’t belong here.

This man stalking down the gangway—eating each plank with determined strides. This man dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket. Leather? Seriously? This man with diamonds of moisture clinging to short black hair. This man with a simple duffle bag hiked over his shoulder and a chiseled jawline grinding with purpose. 

This man didn’t belong here.

Either he was in far more need of a vacation than he could ever imagine, or he was restless.

Driven.

That was the impression that came to mind.

From a distance it was easy to regard the dark hair and tan complexion as that of a native. Tlingit, maybe. But as he approached, the characteristics leaned another way. Long face, long thin eyes. Dark and intense. Even from this span, the traits tended towards Latin.

Whether or not he belonged—here he was—standing at the pylon the MH Tub was anchored to. No indecision. No bending at the knee to read the name of the boat. No perusal of the vessels around hers.

There was a tenacious focus to this man.

Sara set her mug back into its cradle, noticing that her hand shook slightly. She stepped out of the warm cabin with a broad smile and inflated enthusiasm.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author, Maureen A. Miller worked in the software industry for fifteen years. She crawled around plant floors in a hard hat and safety glasses hooking up computers to behemoth manufacturing machines. The job required extensive travel. The best form of escapism during those lengthy airport layovers became writing.

Maureen's first novel, WIDOW'S TALE, earned her a Golden Heart nomination in Romantic Suspense. After that she became hooked to the genre. In fact, she was so hooked she is the founder of the JUST ROMANTIC SUSPENSE website.

Recently, Maureen branched out into the Young Adult Science Fiction market with the popular BEYOND Series. To her it was still Romantic Suspense...just on another planet!

Find more about Maureen at www.maureenamiller.com

Connect:

http://www.maureenamiller.com/

https://www.facebook.com/MaureenAMillerAuthor/

https://www.instagram.com/maureenamillerauthor/

https://twitter.com/maureenamiller

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2959120.Maureen_A_Miller

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Spotlight: Christmas Protection Detail by Terri Reed

He’ll do anything to protect a baby in jeopardy…

When a call from a friend in trouble leads Nick Delaney and Deputy Kaitlyn Lanz to a car crash that killed a single mother, they become the baby’s protectors. Now figuring out why someone is after the child is the only way to save her. But they must find answers soon…or this baby’s first Christmas might just be Nick’s and Kaitlyn’s last.

Excerpt

Deputy Kaitlyn Lanz climbed the short stepladder to reach the last few branches needing to be decorated on the Christmas tree in the Bristle Township Community Center. The combined celebration of the season and the retirement of Bristle Township’s sheriff, James Ryder, was in full swing all around her. Christmas tunes played from the speakers mounted to the ceiling. The music competed with the many conversations taking place.

It seemed the whole town had turned out for the festivities. Kaitlyn had to admit she was pleased that so many people wanted to wish her boss—uh, former boss—well.

She sent up a quick prayer that nothing would mar the festive event. For some reason, she’d been anxious lately. Nothing specific, just a vague sense of doom that hit her at odd times. She chalked it up to losing the sheriff to fishing and traveling. 

It had been several months since there’d been any real trouble in town or any need for the mounted patrol to mobilize. Not that she was complaining, because she loved being a part of the Bristle County sheriff’s department’s long tradition of patrols on horseback.

Like similar units in many Western states, the mounted patrol was comprised of both armed deputies and unarmed civilian volunteers, also referred to as auxiliary members. They provided search and rescue, as well as community and forest patrols. It was one of the various aspects of her job as keeper of the peace that utilized her many skills. She took pride in her job and always strove to do well at protecting the citizens of her town.

But tonight, she wasn’t going to let anything keep her from enjoying the party.

“A little to the left.”

The deep baritone voice caused her to jerk and fumble with the ornament she was attempting to hang on the large Douglas fir tree standing in the corner of the community center. Balanced on top of the stepladder to reach a high branch, she wobbled. So much for enjoying the party. Nick Delaney, the second in line to inherit the Delaney fortune, had become the bane of her existence over the past year.

He grasped her by the waist with surprising strength, stabilizing her on the short ladder. “Steady there.”

She threw an irritated glance over her shoulder at the man. “I’ve got it.”

“Of course. But maybe hang it a little to the left,” he said, directing her placement of the glittery ornament.

Her heart thumped maddeningly. And not because she’d almost fallen from the ladder. Nick looked good tonight. As always. So maddening. Could he, just once, be unattractive?

He was dressed to impress in crisply creased black slacks and a finely tailored gray sport coat over a dark green mock turtleneck sweater. His dark hair was swept off his forehead to accentuate his chiseled cheekbones. His dark eyes sparkled, and his grin was much too confident.

From the moment she’d met the younger son of the local eccentric billionaire, Nick’s arrogance had rubbed her nerves raw.

Abruptly, she turned back to the tree, placed the ornament where she had intended and stepped down from the ladder, forcing him to release his hold and move back to give her room. “I like it where it is.”

He shrugged. “You know best, Deputy.”

She gritted her back teeth. He made the moniker sound pretentious. Turning her attention to the tree, she realized with a sinking sensation he’d been right. The turtledove glass bauble she’d brought from home needed to be a bit more to the left for symmetry.

Ah, well. She wasn’t perfect and neither were her ornament hanging abilities. But she certainly wouldn’t give Nick the satisfaction of knowing she regretted not listening to his advice. Had it been anyone else, she no doubt would have adjusted the ornament accordingly. What was it about Nick that put her on edge all the time?

She had a suspicion her irritation stemmed from the fact that he reminded her of her college boyfriend, Jason. A relationship that hadn’t ended well.

“Here.” Nick thrust a red box with a white bow at her.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Award winning, multipublished author Terri Reed discovered the wonderful world of fiction at an early age and declared she would one day write a book. Now she's fulfilling that dream by writing for Love Inspired. She is a member of both Romance Writers of America and American Christian Fiction Writers. You can visit her online at www.terrireed.com or email her at terrireed@sterling.net or leave comments on http://craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com/ or www.loveinspiredauthors.com