Spotlight: Tall, Dark and Off Limits by Shannon McKenna

TALL, DARK AND OFF LIMITS by Shannon McKenna (on-sale Dec.28, Harlequin Desire): His job is to protect his best friend’s sister…not seduce her! Don’t miss the conclusion of the Men of Maddox Hill series by New York Times bestselling author Shannon McKenna. When it comes to his best friend’s sister, he’s tempted to be much more than her protector. Assigned to keep an eye on social media darling Ava Maddox, security expert Zack Austin is more than up to the task. After all, she’s like family. But dealing with the dynamic beauty requires every ounce of patience…and sexual control. They’ve been denying their forbidden feelings for way too long and soon professionalism gives way to passion. Zack’s willing to face her overprotective family’s wrath, but is Ava’s talent for finding trouble about to explode in his face?

Excerpt

“No wine,” Zack told the waiter brusquely, realizing too late how stuffy and uptight that sounded. “For me, of course,” he said to Ava. “Feel free to have some. I never drink when I’m working.”

“Good for you.” She smiled up at the waiter, whose name was Martin, according to the tag on his shirt. “I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.”

“I have a beautiful 2016 Romanée-Conti that’s open,” Martin told her.

“Sounds lovely.” She gave the waiter that trademarked blinding smile that brought men to their knees. Martin stumbled off, probably to walk into walls and tables.

And Zack just sat there, tongue-tied. When Ava Maddox was around, his foot always ended up stuck so far into his mouth, he needed surgical intervention to get it out. She was giving him that look. Big, sharp blue eyes that missed nothing. So on to him.

The restaurant had low light and a hushed ambience, and they were in the back, tucked in a wood-paneled corner booth. Now the challenge was to kick-start his brain into operation, instead of just staring at how beautiful she was in the flickering candlelight.

She just waited, patiently. Like she was all too used to men losing their train of thought as soon as they made eye contact with her. Like she was accustomed to cutting the poor stammering chumps some slack while they pulled themselves together.

Her cell rang, and she gave him an apologetic glance when she saw the display. “Gotta take this. One sec.” She tapped the screen and held it to her ear. “Ernest? Thanks for getting back to me. Are you still in the office?… Yeah? Could you get a cab to swing by the Mathesson Pub and Grill on your way home?… Yeah, I need my laptop, the pink one with the collage cover. I’m talking to the Maddox Hill CSO about the online harassment…yeah, I know, but still…uh-huh. Okay, thanks. You’re my hero. Later, then.”

She laid the phone down. “Ernest is my assistant. He’ll bring my computer here so I can show you the master list of the last few of years’ worth of Blazon’s projects.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have your laptop with you at all times,” he said.

“I usually do,” she said. “But I had every intention of going back to Gilchrist House tonight. I have a crazy weekend coming up. Ernest and I are flying down to the Future Innovation trade show in Los Angeles tomorrow. It’s a very big deal.”

Zack couldn’t hide his disapproval. “Traveling to Los Angeles? Going back to a deserted office late in the evening? Leaving by yourself, going home by yourself? With all this going on?”

Ava sighed. “Zack, Gilchrist House has a twenty-four-hour doorman. And I would call a car to take me from doorstep to doorstep. I’m not an idiot.”

“I never suggested that you were.”

“I’m not in physical danger,” Ava assured him. “Really. This is just, you know, the new normal. The incivility of our modern electronic age. It’s ugly and unsavory, but I’ve got to get used to it and learn to roll with it.”

“The hell you do,” he said. “New normal, my ass. I’ll tell you what’s normal. When I find that bottom-feeding son of a bitch and grind him into paste.”

Ava gave him that narrow, nervous look, which by now he recognized. It was a signal that he wasn’t behaving professionally. He was too intense. Making it personal.

In a word, scaring her.

“Ah, wow, Zack,” she murmured. “I’m surprised at your reaction.”

“Why? This situation is a disgrace. Why should you be surprised that I’m horrified?”

Her eyes slid away. “Well, I don’t know. It’s just that you’ve never taken me seriously before, so why would you suddenly take me seriously now?”

“I’m sorry I gave you that impression,” he said stiffly. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“Oh, don’t be that way.” Her tone was light. “I’m  used to it. I rub a lot of people the wrong way. I’m just too much for people sometimes. Drew’s always on my case about it, telling me to tone it down. And I try, I really do. But it never works. Boom, out it comes. The real Ava, right in your face.”

“He shouldn’t do that,” Zack said forcefully.

“Shouldn’t what? Sorry, but I’m not following you.”

“Drew. He shouldn’t be on your case. He shouldn’t tell you to tone it down.”

Her eyes were big. “Ah… I didn’t mean to get you all wound up.”

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Mass Market Paperback | Bookshop.org

Spotlight: The Bad Boy Experiment by Reese Ryan

THE BAD BOY EXPERIMENT by Reese Ryan (on-sale Dec.28, Harlequin Desire): A steamy fling with an old crush who doesn’t do commitment? What was she thinking! Find out in the conclusion to Reese Ryan’s Bourbon Brothers series. What happens when you say yes to a bad boy? Even if divorcée Renee Lockwood were willing to give love a second chance, she wouldn’t choose Cole Abbott. The sexy, successful real estate developer doesn’t do commitment. But he’s perfect for a no-strings fling—exactly what Ren needs now that she’s moved back home to raise her son. Mind-blowing pleasure with the man she once crushed on is harder to quit than Ren expected. Impossible, in fact. Is time running out before the bad boy bolts…or will the results of her experiment surprise her?

Excerpt

Renee turned and started down the stairs. Suddenly, the door swung open, taking her by surprise. She missed a step, tripping but catching herself on the banister before she face-planted in the gravel.

Graceful, Renee. You’re a regular Misty Copeland.

“Ren?” Cole hurried down the stairs. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I thought maybe you’d… I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Changed your mind.”

She was flustered and rambling like a fool. Yep, this was definitely a bad idea.

Stop talking and make a graceful exit, if that’s even possible at this point.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” Cole extended a hand. “C’mon inside.”

Renee swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she placed it inside his.

Don’t chicken out now.

Cole led her into the kitchen. Like hers, it was outdated. It reminded her of her Aunt Bea standing at the old stove making fried corn or her famous chicken and dumplings—the first thing Ren had ever learned to cook.

“Still feels weird being here, huh?” Cole’s voice shook her from her temporary daze.

“Very.”

They entered the living room where an exercise mat and weights were on the floor.

“You were working out. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.” Ren glanced at the equipment. “I know it’s really late and—”

“Renee…” Cole drew her closer, pulling her attention back to him. His gaze was soft and warm as he stroked her cheek. “It’s okay. We both know why you came here.” He managed to say the words without sounding cocky. “But I need to hear it from you. Tell me exactly what you want from me.”

Ren’s head was spinning. No one had ever asked her that. Not in a relationship or her career. And now that he had, she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

So instead, she clutched Cole’s white Abbott Construction & Development T-shirt, pulled him closer and pressed her lips to his.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Mass Market Paperback | Bookshop.org

Spotlight: The Christmas She Married the Playboy by Louise Fuller

THE CHRISTMAS SHE MARRIED THE PLAYBOY by Louise Fuller (on-sale Nov.30, Harlequin Presents): Scandal leads to wedding bells in this uplifting, emotional marriage-of-convenience romance by Louise Fuller! The one thing not on her Christmas list? A convenient winter wedding! Louis Albemarle has tried to bury the pain and guilt of his father’s death with his playboy antics. So when a photo of his stolen moment with figure skater Santina Somerville proves one scandal too many for his company’s shareholders, Louis must contemplate the unimaginable: marriage! / Marrying Louis is the only way to save Santa’s pristine image. But after a past betrayal, it’s not the gossip she really fears. It’s the burning attraction between her and Louis that might just make resisting her convenient husband impossible…

Excerpt

Santa stared at him, groping for some way for his words to make sense.

Marry him!

But of course he was being stupid again—mocking her, trying to punish her for what he saw as a problem of her making.

‘Good idea,’ she snapped. ‘Why don’t we fly to Vegas? We could get married with Elvis as the celebrant and afterwards we could invite all our new paparazzi friends to the reception.’

His face hardened. ‘If you like—although I thought the whole point of getting married was to get them off our backs.’

She felt her face dissolve, her mouth forming an O of shock. He was being serious. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

Marry Louis? The idea was absurd, and wrong on so many levels, and yet she couldn’t stop a hectic pulse from leapfrogging across her skin, or deflect a sudden vivid memory of the moment when his mouth had fused with hers.

‘No!’ Shaking her head to clear the image from her head, she took a step backwards. ‘I wouldn’t marry you if my life depended on it.’

‘What about your reputation?’

His voice was cold—but, looking into his eyes, she saw the heat of wounded male pride.

Louis’s pride was the last of her worries right now.

‘We can’t get married,’ she said firmly.

‘Why not?’ he shot back. ‘It would solve our immediate problems. Unless, of course, you’re already married.’

His eyes locked with hers and she stiffened. ‘I’m not married.’

‘And you don’t have a boyfriend right now, do you?’

Her cheeks were flaming with a shame she hated feeling. ‘I would hardly have kissed you if I did.’

Something shifted in his face—something she hadn’t got a name for.

‘It’s not always an obstacle,’ he said silkily.

‘Only for someone like you.’

‘If you say so.’

He tilted his head back, the coldness in his eyes making her shake inside.

‘Okay then, as there appears to be no legal impediment as to why I, Louis, may not be joined in matrimony to you, Santa Somerville, let’s get married.’

She stared at him, trying and failing to read his expression. No legal impediment maybe, but what about a moral one?

‘You can’t just use marriage as some kind of sticking plaster to fix this mess.’

He shrugged. ‘That’s exactly what I want to use it for.’

Her head was starting to spin. Why was he being so contrary?

‘Well, I don’t. It would be dishonest, wrong—’

‘It would also be expedient and mutually beneficial. And it’s not as if it’s going to be till-death-us-do-part. We’ll be lucky if we last a month without killing each other.’

And what about kissing each other?

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Mass Market Paperback | Bookshop.org

Spotlight: Down a Dark River by Karen Odden

Publication Date: November 9, 2021

Crooked Lane Books

Hardcover & eBook; 336 pages

Series: An Inspector Corravan Mystery, Book One

Genre: Historical Mystery

In the vein of C. S. Harris and Anne Perry, Karen Odden’s mystery introduces Inspector Michael Corravan as he investigates a string of vicious murders that has rocked Victorian London’s upper crust.

London, 1878. One April morning, a small boat bearing a young woman’s corpse floats down the murky waters of the Thames. When the victim is identified as Rose Albert, daughter of a prominent judge, the Scotland Yard director gives the case to Michael Corravan, one of the only Senior Inspectors remaining after a corruption scandal the previous autumn left the division in ruins. Reluctantly, Corravan abandons his ongoing case, a search for the missing wife of a shipping magnate, handing it over to his young colleague, Mr. Stiles.

An Irish former bare-knuckles boxer and dockworker from London’s seedy East End, Corravan has good street sense and an inspector’s knack for digging up clues. But he’s confounded when, a week later, a second woman is found dead in a rowboat, and then a third. The dead women seem to have no connection whatsoever. Meanwhile, Mr. Stiles makes an alarming discovery: the shipping magnate’s missing wife, Mrs. Beckford, may not have fled her house because she was insane, as her husband claims, and Mr. Beckford may not be the successful man of business that he appears to be.

Slowly, it becomes clear that the river murders and the case of Mrs. Beckford may be linked through some terrible act of injustice in the past—for which someone has vowed a brutal vengeance. Now, with the newspapers once again trumpeting the Yard’s failures, Corravan must dredge up the truth—before London devolves into a state of panic and before the killer claims another innocent victim.

Excerpt

Chapter 1 

Most of us Yard men would say that over time we develop an extra sense for danger close at hand. For me, the earliest glimmer of it appeared when I was still new to Lambeth division, wearing a scratchy blue coat with shoulders a few inches wider than my own, and I felt my way for the first time down a shadowed alley, truncheon in hand, braced for whatever skulked around the corner. 

After a dozen years of policing, I liked to believe my instinct had been honed to a keen blade. That I’d seen enough London crime not to be surprised by much. That I could sense the approach of something especially vicious by a prickling along my arms or a tightening below my ribs. 

But that Tuesday morning, I never saw it coming. A case with a murderer as hell-bent on destruction as the mythical three-headed monster Ellén Trechend roaring out of its cave. All I saw, at half past eight that rainy morning in early April, was young Inspector Stiles. He knocked and poked his head into my hole of an office, as he’d done dozens of times before. 

“Inspector Corravan.” His voice was subdued, and his brown eyes lacked their usual spark. 

I looked up from some notes I was making about a missing wife. I was two days behind on my diary, and in the wake of last year’s scandal, the new Yard director, Howard Vincent, was a stickler for keeping proper records in case anyone from the Parliamentary Review Commission wanted to see them at a moment’s notice. “What is it?” 

“The River Police found a dead woman downstream from Wapping. They just sent word, and Vincent wants us both to go.” The thought of a dead woman was unpleasant, certainly, but it was the other part of Stiles’s remark that surprised me into silence—because River men never asked for help from the Yard if they could avoid it. Not to mention that Blair had been the superintendent for fifteen years and knew more about the Thames than anyone. Why would he need us? And I could imagine the look he’d give when he saw that it was I who’d been dispatched. Besides, what was Director Vincent doing, sending us off to other divisions? Every one of us already had too many cases, including me—one of which was the missing Mrs. Beckford, which I might manage to resolve by the end of the day, so long as I didn’t get sidetracked. And I was keen to find her. Missing people claw at my nerves even worse than dead ones.

I snorted my annoyance, and Stiles looked apologetic. “The chap said there’s something peculiar.”

As I plucked my overcoat off the rack, Stiles took my old black umbrella out of the stand and offered it to me. That was Stiles, doing his best to keep me from catching my death, even when I barked at him. I grasped the handle and grunted my thanks. 

We walked toward Whitehall Place, our umbrellas braced against the rain, and I sent a sideways look at Stiles, who was tugging his hat more firmly onto his head. I was his senior by almost a decade, having served in uniform in Lambeth for nearly three years, the River Police for four, and here as a plainclothes detective at the Yard for five. When he came to the Yard eighteen months ago, Stiles had been an above-average policeman, with hands as quick as most boxers I’d fought, a willingness to learn, and an amiable manner that put witnesses at ease. But he’d been uncertain with me at first, a little nervous. And then the trial last autumn had been hell, with crowds outside the Yard every morning screaming how we were frauds and cheats, and we all deserved hanging or worse. I could tell it ate at Stiles, but we kept our heads down and resolved six cases in three months—an outcome I liked to think encouraged the Review Commission to let the Yard remain open for a while longer. So we’d been through enough together that now he was like a sturdy skiff, still bobbing in my wake but, to my secret satisfaction, not about to be easily overturned by anything. 

“Mr. Quartermain was in with the director first thing this morning,” Stiles said once we settled into a cab. 

Of all the members of the Review Commission, Quartermain was the most critical of the Yard. He believed all policework should be done by men in uniform—partly because the uniform deterred criminals and partly because our plain clothes provided what he called “corrupting opportunities.” 

“Hmph.” 

“I’ve heard he’s in favor of cutting us back further,” Stiles ventured. 

“He’s trying to make a name for himself at our expense,” I said sourly. “The public likes the sound of a clean sweep after a scandal.” 

“It feels rotten, though. It isn’t fair to keep tarring us all with the same brush.” 

I agreed; it was unjust. Only three inspectors—Druscovich, Meiklejohn, and Palmer—had been found guilty of helping criminals evade capture in exchange for substantial bribes, but the press was all too willing to blame the entire Yard. I had a feeling this was why Director Vincent had assigned me—one of the two remaining senior inspectors—the task of finding the missing Madeline Beckford. It wasn’t lost on him that Stephen Beckford was a respected gentleman from Mayfair and a partner in a significant shipping concern. Restoring his wife to him might make it into the newspapers, if there was still one willing to publish anything good about us. 

The rain had stopped, though the wind gusted, and we hurried from the cab into the River Police station, a brick building that loomed over the warehouses on either side. The clerk told us that Blair was on the dock, so we dropped our umbrellas in a stand and made our way out back. It was nearly nine o’clock in the morning, but the sun was invisible behind the clouds dragging their dark shadows across the Thames. The breeze buffeted us with the smells of fish and brine and spice. Blair stood at the very end of the wooden pier, his back to us, his coat flapping in the wind, his head turned to the left, downstream. As our boots thumped closer on the water-soaked boards, he peered over his shoulder. Catching my eye, he stiffened and turned away, planting his feet across the middle of the dock so neither of us could stand beside him. 

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Audible | Hardcover | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Karen Odden earned her Ph.D. in English from New York University and subsequently taught literature at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She has contributed essays to numerous books and journals, written introductions for Victorian novels in the Barnes & Noble classics series, and edited for the journal Victorian Literature and Culture (Cambridge UP). Her previous novels, also set in 1870s London, have won awards for historical fiction and mystery. A member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime and the recipient of a grant from the Arizona Commission on the Arts, Karen lives in Arizona with her family and her rescue beagle Rosy.

WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | PINTEREST | BOOKBUB | GOODREADS

Down a Dark River

Spotlight: How the Duke Saved Christmas by Anna Harrington

Genre: Historical Holiday Regency Romance

MERRY CHRISTMAS…

Two years ago, Lady Clara Marshall led a fairytale life. She was the toast of the ton, beloved sister to an earl, leading charity patroness, and deeply in love. A bright future lay in her grasp, until a tragic phaeton accident ripped it all away. Now, she’s lost the use of her right leg and never ventures from home. She’s lost all happiness and the love of her life. When she’s forced to travel north for the holidays, a fierce snowstorm, a damaged bridge, and her meddling brother all conspire against her to bring her under the same roof with the one man she never wanted to see again.

MARRY ME?

Michael Stanton, Duke of Wakefield, cannot believe his eyes when he sees Clara being carried into his country house to seek shelter from the storm. Two years ago, his heart nearly stopped when he watched the wreck, only for it to shatter completely when she broke off with him without explanation. Certain she blames him for her leg, he’s resigned to having lost her, until her brother asks for his help in showing her how to live again.

But the last thing Clara wants is to be trapped with Michael and all the ghosts of Christmases past. Will the duke be able to save not just Christmas, but also her life?

Excerpt

The sweet scent of cut pine swirled around them as they glided down the lane toward the edge of the woods and the fields beyond. The silence of the snow-filled woods around them was broken only by the muted clomp of hooves and the soft growl of compacting snow beneath the sled’s wide runners. 

Having Clara next to him felt like old times. Over the years, the two of them had spent hours driving through the park in London and across the countryside. They’d chatted, discussed, argued—mostly, they’d just sat quietly, happy to let the comfortable silence stretch between them. Like this. 

She’d let down her guard during the past few days and had started to emerge from the isolation she’d cast herself into since the accident. True, he’d forced her into it by having Mrs. Hansen and Eads distract Mrs. Bailey so that Clara would have to be more independent, and he’d ceaselessly encouraged the children to include her with everything they did, short of asking her help with their math work. He felt a pang of guilt at the deception. But he would do anything for her. For God’s sake, he’d nearly clicked up his heels when she’d gone into the library to select a book for herself. 

A book! He’d felt less victorious when he’d been graduated from Oxford. 

He could have cheered that he’d managed to convince her to come into the woods with him. No, not with him, he realized ruefully. With the children. But he’d gladly take his victories wherever he could find them. 

“Do you remember the last time we gathered greenery together?” he asked in an attempt to make casual conversation. 

She brushed back her fur-edged hood with her kid glove to look at him. “We did?”

“It was that holiday I spent with your family at Raleigh Hall when Anthony and I were still at Eton.” He slanted her a sideways glance. “Don’t you remember? You must have been about Margaret’s age. My parents and brother were in Ireland and couldn’t return until well after the new year, so Anthony insisted I spend the term holiday at Raleigh rather than stay on at Eton or be alone at Northbourne.”

Her expression softened at the memory, and he couldn’t mistake the happy glow in her eyes as she slid her hands into her fur muff and settled back on the wooden bench seat. “I remember that you spent the entire holiday pulling at my braids, hiding my dolls, and showing off by doing all kinds of tricks with horses and weapons. You even stole my Christmas pudding.”

He quirked a half grin. “Perhaps I was attempting to win your affection.”

“Or perhaps you were just being a fifteen year-old boy on leave from school for the holidays.” 

Duly chastised, he muttered with feigned chagrin, “Well, when you put it like that…”

She laughed, and the soft sound drifted through the still woods around them like music. 

“Did you enjoy yourself this afternoon?” he asked as casually as possible, yet he knew there would be a world of meaning in her answer. 

“I did.” She grudgingly admitted, “It was nice to be out in the fresh air, in the woods and fields. I thought…”

When her voice trailed off, he prompted gently, “You thought what?”

With a self-deprecating smile, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if I enjoyed myself. The children had a grand time. That’s what matters.”

“They certainly did.” Not wanting to push her too much about being out of her room, he warned instead, “They’ll hold you to your promise, you know.”

“What promise?”

“Hot chocolate and gingerbread in the conservatory this evening.”

Her bright smile sparked a warmth deep inside his gut before she turned back to look over the heads of the ponies, who flicked their ears back and forth in an attempt to eavesdrop as they plodded out of the woods. “Chocolate and sweets… That’s the kind of promise I always like to keep.”

Unable to stop himself, he reached over slowly and took her hand. She stiffened with surprise when he lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss to her knuckles. But she didn’t pull away, and emboldened, he gently took the fingertips of her glove between his teeth and slipped it off her hand. He let the cream-colored glove fall away onto his lap.

This time when he kissed her bare palm, a shiver raced through her that had nothing to do with the cold winter. 

“Michael,” she whispered, so softly that his name was nearly lost beneath the muted sound of the sled runners beneath them.

He dared to take another kiss and let his lips linger against her warm, soft skin. He nearly groaned at the sweetness of her, of her familiar taste and scent that still haunted his dreams and even now made him ache with desire. 

When her fingers curled slightly beneath the feel of his lips, he placed tender kisses to her fingertips. “There are other promises worth keeping, too.” 

He closed his mouth around her finger, and she gasped. The sound pulsed through him and tightened his gut. So did the quickening of her breath when he lightly sucked. 

They’d once done far more together than this, when she’d lain so scandalously with him on a picnic blanket that last summer when they were still together. With her legs bare beneath the skirt gathered at her thighs and her untamed hair lying around her shoulders, she’d been the most delicious temptation he’d ever experienced in his life. He’d summoned all his restraint not to take her innocence right there amid the wildflowers, instead finding his pleasure in bringing her to hers in all kinds of wanton ways. Yet now he trembled from these chaste kisses to her hand as much as he had that day from his kisses to her bare breasts and the quivering flesh between her thighs.

“What promises…would those be?” Her voice emerged as hoarse sighs between light pants. 

He twirled his tongue seductively around her finger, then moved on to do the same to the next. One by one, slowly and decadently… “You promised you’d let me kiss you and touch you for the rest of our lives.” He drew a faint whimper from her lips when he licked at the sensitive flesh between her fingers. “You promised to marry me.”

She stilled. Confusion darkened her face, but so did the desire his lips and mouth were flaming inside her. “Some promises,” she murmured sadly, “shouldn’t be kept.”

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback

About the Author

Anna fell in love with historical romances—and all those dashing Regency heroes—while living in London, where she studied literature and theatre. She loves to travel, fly airplanes, and hike, and when she isn’t busy writing her next novel, she can usually be found in her garden, fussing over her roses. She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at:

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Cover Reveal: The Extra Myles by Melanie Munton

(A Southern Hearts Club Novella)

Publication date: December 21st 2021

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

NOW HIRING… Fake boyfriend for 27-year-old desperate female. Must be able to deal with pretentious, New York City socialites. Attendance at family Christmas events required. Seasonal work only. Applicants not named Myles Colson need not apply.

The position has been filled. Granted, Myles is the only man in Blair McCauley’s life capable of looking her dragon mother in the eyes and not bursting into tears. Blair will need that steel whenever her mother helpfully reminds her over a glass of eggnog that a career is pointless when she could just marry rich. Thankfully, the barbecuing, beer swilling, football watching guy’s guy doesn’t even sort of fit in with her flashy New York lifestyle.

Which is exactly the point.

Although Myles is a lot more than a former jock with a pension for frosted mugs and Sweatpants Sundays. He also happens to be a gifted artist, and Blair is helping him carve out his space in the art world. Lucky for her, she’s the only one who gets to see the man behind the pottery wheel. Sans shirt.

But when Blair and Myles both come to the realization that they’ve just been pretending at pretending, they never see what’s coming for them next.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Melanie grew up in the Midwest, but she loves living in the Southeast (where the beaches are!) now with her husband and daughter.
Melanie's other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together...ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.
At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love.
Go visit Melanie's website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!

Connect:
https://www.facebook.com/melaniemuntonauthor/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13976464.Melanie_Munton
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/melanie-munton
https://twitter.com/melanie_munton
https://www.melaniemunton.com/
https://www.instagram.com/authormelaniemunton/

a Rafflecopter giveaway