Spotlight: A Moment After Dark by Janet Raye Stevens

Publication date: December 7th 2021
Genres: Historical, Paranormal, Suspense

Synopsis:

She sees the future with a touch. A powerful gift in a time of war.
The enemy wants her. The Allies need her.

Addie Brandt is cursed. When she touches someone, or an object that belongs to them, she sees their future, and it’s rarely good. Mocked and teased her whole life, Addie hides from the world in her family’s funeral home. But when her second sight shows her a horrific vision of an attack on the Pearl Harbor Naval base, the gruesome images are too intense to ignore, and she tries to raise the alarm. Will anyone listen?

Federal agent Jack Dunstan needs a miracle. He’s still reeling from the betrayal that nearly decimated his team of agents with paranormal powers, a vengeful Nazi spy with a terrifying ability of his own is out to destroy him, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before America is drawn into the war raging around the world. Hearing rumors of Addie’s vision, he seeks her out, hoping she could be the miracle he’s looking for.

Addie’s not sure she trusts Jack Dunstan. He’s rude, cocky, and insists on calling her curse of second sight a “gift.” But if she wants to save lives and prevent a terrible disaster, she must put aside her fears and doubts and learn to embrace her ability.

With the US on the brink of war and an enemy agent hunting her for her power, Addie must learn to trust Dunstan—and herself—to stop an attack that could change the course of history forever.

A World War II paranormal suspense in the vein of Simone St. James, mixed with a dash of Susan Elia MacNeal’s Maggie Hope series.

Excerpt

Addie Brandt can see the future with a touch. It's early December, 1941, and she's had a horrific vision of an attack on Pearl Harbor. She's determined to raise the alarm, but her effort to report what she's seen to the police doesn't go as she hopes.

“What do you expect me to do?” Sgt. Gillis asked.

Addie’s frustration and anger threatened to boil over. “Can’t you call the Navy or the FBI or someone?”  

“And tell them what? A fanciful girl thinks there might be an attack on one of our naval bases at some point in the future? I’m sorry, dear, that’s not what police work is. I can’t call anyone without something solid to go on.” He held out his hand. “Or some kind of proof.”

She stared at his palm as if it held a bomb. Touch him? What good would that do? If the Sight showed her a vision, it would most likely be terrible. And whatever she saw might not happen until next week or next year. She shook her head and the sergeant frowned. 

“I thought as much. Why don’t you run on home, Miss Brandt, and forget this foolishness?” 

Addie lost the battle to hold her temper. Her cousin Marta liked to say never get a German angry. Or an Irishwoman. The blood of both pumped furiously through her veins. 

By golly, she’d do it.

Cool air tickled her skin as she stripped off a glove. Silence fell in the precinct. Addie’s hand hovered over Gillis’s and she cringed. She hadn’t held anyone’s hand since Mother’s, years ago. The day the Sight showed her Mother was going to die. 

But she had to. With the fate of so many hanging in the balance, she had to touch him. 

She pressed her fingers against his. Instantly, darkness as black as pitch blanketed her mind. Her body seized. Images flashed. Terrifying sensations beat against her brain. It took every ounce of strength she had to tear out of the Sight’s grip. 

She opened her eyes to see Sgt. Gillis smirking at her. “Well? Where’s my proof?

Addie scrabbled her glove back onto her hand and shot out of her seat. The chair legs squawked against the floorboards. “I-I can’t,” she said hastily. “I’m sorry.”

“Crazy as a loon,” she heard one cop say as she dashed across the room.

Burning with fury and humiliation, Addie flung open the front door and slammed into a wall. No, not a wall. A man. A powerfully built man, with shoulders as broad as an anchor filling his overcoat and a chest apparently made of iron. She looked up to see a face like Dick Tracy in the funny papers—all angles. Razor sharp jaw, full lips, crooked nose, black hair under a fedora perched at a rakish angle. And eyes the color of brown sugar. Curious eyes that kept her gaze a moment too long. 

“Whoa, sister. Where’s the fire?” he said, his voice as deep as the ocean. He smelled like the ocean, too. Fresh, salty-sharp, like he’d been born on Pott’s Beach. 

She laughed bitterly. Couldn’t help it, after what the Sight had inflicted on her in the heartbeat she’d held the sergeant’s hand. Addie as Gillis, at the foot of a massive structure engulfed in flames. An ear-splitting pop and the structure shuddered as chunks of burning wood splintered and plummeted down. 

She’d ripped herself out of the vision before the fatal moment the scorching embers crashed onto her. Or Gillis, rather. But she knew with certainty the sergeant would die a brutal, fiery death.

Somehow, she made it around the big man she’d slammed into, mighty glad her hands were covered and she couldn’t make contact with him. She’d had enough of the Sight for one day. 

Besides, she did not want to know what could fell a giant Redwood tree of a man like him.

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About the Author

Meet award-winning author Janet Raye Stevens – mom, reader, tea-drinker (okay, tea guzzler), and teller of fun, adventurous, occasionally heartbreaking, and stealthily romantic tales.

Derringer Award nominee and winner of the Daphne du Maurier and RWA's Golden Heart® awards, Janet writes mystery, time travel, WWII-set paranormal, and the occasional Christmas romance with humor, heart, and a dash of suspense. She lives in New England with her husband, who's practically perfect in every way, and their two sons, both geniuses and good-looking to boot.

Connect:

https://janetrayestevens.com/

https://www.facebook.com/janetrayestevens

https://twitter.com/janrayestevens

https://www.instagram.com/janetrayestevens/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19725825.Janet_Raye_Stevens

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Spotlight: The Magi Menagerie by Kale Lawrence

(The Magi Menagerie, #1)
Publication date: September 7th 2021
Genres: Fantasy, Historical, New Adult, Young Adult

Synopsis:

Some stars aren’t meant to be followed.

For seventeen years, Ezra Newport and his parents were habitual immigrants, traveling from their Ottoman Empire home across 20th century Europe. As the Newports migrate to Belfast, Ireland, Ezra wants nothing more to settle into a consistent life and lay the foundation of his architectural dreams. But after a strange, mechanical bounty hunter murders his mother and prompts the disappearance of his father, Ezra discovers that his parents had actually been on the run. Now, their enemies are targeting him, and they won’t stop until he is dead.

In a moment of desperation, Ezra’s fate collides with the Third Order of the Magi, a secret society dedicated to using their supernatural powers to protect their communities. With increasing violence around the world, the Magi are fairly certain they know who’s behind the attacks on Ezra and his family since the same group could also be threatening their own existence.

Both Ezra and the Magi’s survival hinges on knowledge only Ezra’s father has and the key to saving them could be buried within history itself. In a race across continents and time, both Ezra and the Magi must secure an ancient Babylonian artifact before hell is unleashed on the world. And, against all odds, Ezra must decide where his allegiances truly lie, despite what is written in the stars.

Excerpt from Chapter One: The Order of Babylon (Ezra’s POV)

A blinding white light illuminated the compartment then faded just before a concussive shockwave sent the scene around them into oblivion. Reeling in confusion, Ezra found himself lying prostrate in a barely conceivable jumble of his former surroundings. Splintering glass shattered around him. A warm stream of a substance—oil? Blood? —trickled down his forehead and along the corner of his mouth. Ezra wiped it away with the sleeve of his coat, cringing at the crimson trail left behind. His equilibrium—as much as he tried to control it—spiralled in a vicious vortex, rendering it nearly impossible to get his bearings.  

"Anne?" he croaked in Turkish. His voice, hardly louder than a whisper, was drowned out by the infernal ringing in his ears.  

Reaching for the compartment door handle to pull himself to his feet, Ezra recoiled when he noticed the door had been smeared with cruel red streaks. Smoke billowed throughout the walkway, choking him as he navigated on hands and knees through the devastation.  

"Anne?" he called again. 

"Ezra!" 

His mother was within arm’s reach, but the look in her eyes seemed dangerously far.  

Ezra crawled to her side where she lay gasping for air. His stomach contorted into knots at the sight of a dark, liquid halo surrounding her headscarf.  

"Let's get you out of here," Ezra insisted, attempting to prop her up into a seated position. He frantically looked around for any sign of his father. "We need to find Baba!" 

"Shhh," she insisted, shakily reaching up to her son's face. "Don't worry about us. Flee. Get as far away from here as you possibly can."   

"What are you saying?" Ezra said, wondering if somehow his brain had lost all ability to comprehend language. 

"Your baba and I knew this day would come," she whispered, tears swimming in her eyes. "They have found us. They have found you."  

"Who? Who has found—" Ezra began but was silenced when her complexion faded to a ghastly white. He hesitantly followed her gaze over his shoulder.  

Distorted by smoke, an inky black shadow materialised at the end of the walkway. The figure plodded toward them with an uneven gait, accompanied by ominous, mechanical whirring. But when the being finally stopped, and the smoke cleared just enough to expose his anamorphic features, Ezra could not bring himself to move. 

"By the Order of Babylon, you are hereby commanded to follow and obey," his deep voice warbled through some type of amplification apparatus. His breath's condensation—or rather, steam—fumed from the steel grates around where his mouth should have been.  

Ezra's own breath faltered as the orange light from nearby flames illuminated the figure's head. Slits in his mask revealed rugged skin and dark shadows beneath an organic eye, but the other portion consisted entirely of an intricate web of gears and piping. While at one time, the figure might have been an ordinary person, whoever now stood before him was nothing close to being human. 

"We shall not!" his mother barked defensively, feigning a physical strength Ezra knew she lacked. "We will never yield." 

"Hmm," the shadow mused. "So be it, Magus." A snap of his fingers sent ruby sparks into the haze and, upon deteriorating, revealed a massive cobra. Its thick body slithered across the wreckage and advanced straight for Ezra.  

"Ezra, go!" cried his mother as a deluge of glass fragments rained upon them.  

Crab-walking backward, Ezra manoeuvred as fast as he could away from the serpent, but it navigated the debris as if nothing stood in its way. The reptile snapped its jaws centimetres from his leather shoe, a fierce wrath in its eyes.  

"Leave him alone, devil!" yelled Leyla, summoning what strength remained to kick at the snake with her boot. 

Almost in slow motion, the cobra turned its fiery eyes toward his mother and bared its fangs as if overjoyed to set a course for its new target.  

"No!" Ezra screamed in terror. "No, no, no!" 

The cobra paid no attention to his pleas. It struck in one sickening flash, almost too fast for the eye to comprehend. As it withdrew, Ezra choked back arduous smoke—and a wave of tears—as his mother reflexively reached for her neck. 

Narrowing its eyes as if perversely satisfied by the work of its venom now coursing through her veins, the cobra turned back to Ezra.  

Trembling, Ezra tried to move but could not persuade his petrified limbs to cooperate.  

“Go, my love!” Leyla rasped. “Go!”  

Using his elbows to help pull him down the corridor, he furiously attempted escape. If the half-man, half-machine could grin or show any form of expression, Ezra imagined he was elated beyond measure at the persistence of his pet. The mysterious being advanced, his boots ravishing the ashy remains of pencil-sketched architecture. 

“Where is your father, boy?” demanded the figure. “Tell me!” 

Ezra could barely breathe as the figure hovered above him. A true vision of the Grim Reaper. The last thing Ezra saw before his vision faded was the cruel twinkle behind the mask of the stranger. 

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About the Author

Since the early age of 6, Kale Lawrence knew she either wanted to be an astronaut or an author. Obviously, the astronaut gig didn’t work out, so instead, Kale turned to fantastic fictional worlds. When Kale is not writing creatively, she works as a Marketing Manager at a pet product company, and pretends she’s an Olympic swimmer at the gym. She has also served as a board member for the South Dakota Writes organization.

In addition to books, Kale has lent her writing prowess to television, and her writing has been featured on nationwide PBS television programming, NBC newscasts, ABC newscasts, and the Travel Channel.

Kale currently lives in Sioux Falls, South Dakota with her feisty tortoiseshell calico cat, Emma Bug and sassy Siamese, Seattle Bean.

Connect:

https://kalelawrence.com/

https://twitter.com/kalewrites

https://www.instagram.com/kalelawrence

https://www.tiktok.com/@authorkalelawrence

https://www.facebook.com/authorkalelawrence/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5241807.Kale_Lawrence

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Spotlight: First Kiss at Christmas by Lee Tobin McClain

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: HQN Books

At 25 years old, preschool teacher Kayla Harris is embarrassed to admit she's never been kissed. When Tony DiNunzio and his grieving nephew show up in her classroom, she can't help being drawn to both of them. If only her insecurities-and his guilt over his sister's death-would stop standing in their way.

As Christmas approaches, can these three come together to form a family... not just for the holidays, but forever?

Excerpt

1

KAYLA HARRIS CARRIED a bag of snowflake decorations to the window of her preschool classroom. She started putting them up in a random pattern, humming along to the Christmas music she’d accessed on her phone.

Yes, it was Sunday afternoon, and yes, she was a loser for spending it at work, but she loved her job and wanted the classroom to be ready when the kids returned from Thanksgiving break tomorrow. Nobody could get as excited as a four-year-old about Christmas decorations.

Outside, the November wind tossed the pine branches and jangled the swings on the Coastal Kids Early Learning Center’s playground. A lonely seagull swooped across the sky, no doubt headed for the bay. The Chesapeake was home to all kinds of wildlife, year-round. That was one of the things she loved about living here.

Then another kind of movement from the playground caught her eye.

A man in a long, army-type coat, bareheaded, ran after a little boy. When Kayla pushed open the window to see better, she heard the child screaming.

Heart pounding, she rushed downstairs and out the door of the empty school.

The little boy now huddled at the top of the sliding board, mouth wide open as he cried, tears rolling down round, rosy cheeks. The man stood between the slide and a climbing structure, forking his fingers through disheveled hair, not speaking to the child or making any effort to comfort him. This couldn’t be the little boy’s father. Something was wrong.

She ran toward the sliding board. “Hi, honey,” she said to the child, keeping her voice low and calm. “What’s the matter?”

“Leave him alone,” the man barked out. His ragged jeans and wildly flapping coat made him look disreputable, maybe homeless.

She ignored him, climbed halfway up the ladder, and touched the child’s shaking shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart.”

The little boy jerked away and, maybe on purpose, maybe not, slid down the slide. The man rushed to catch him at the bottom, and the boy struggled, crying, his little fists pounding, legs kicking.

Kayla pulled out her phone to report a possible child abduction, eyes on the pair, poised to interfere if the man tried to run with the child.

One of the boy’s kicks landed in a particularly vulnerable spot, and the man winced and adjusted the child to cradle him as if he were a baby. “Okay, okay,” he murmured in a deep, but gentle voice, nothing like the sharp tone in which he’d addressed Kayla. He sat down on the end of the slide and pulled the child close, rocking a little. “You’re okay.”

The little boy struggled for another few seconds and then stopped, laying his head against the man’s broad chest. Apparently, this guy had gained the child’s trust, at least to some degree.

For the first time, Kayla wondered if she’d misread the situation. Was this just a scruffy dad? Was she maybe just being her usual awkward self with men?

He looked up at her then, curiosity in his eyes.

Her face heated, but she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was an education professional trying to help a child. “This is a private school, sir,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

The little boy had startled at her voice and his crying intensified. The man ignored her question.

“Is he your son?”

Again, no answer as he stroked the child’s hair and whispered something into his ear.

“All right, I guess it’s time for the police to straighten this out.” She searched for the number, her fingers numb with the cold. Maybe this situation didn’t merit a 911 call, but there was definitely something unusual going on. Her small town’s police force could straighten it out.

“WAIT. DON’T CALL THE POLICE.” Tony DeNunzio struggled to his feet, the weight of his tense nephew making him awkward. “Everything’s okay. I’m his guardian.” He didn’t owe this woman an explanation, and it irritated him to have to give one, but he didn’t want Jax to get even more upset. The child hated cops, and with good reason.

“You’re his guardian?” The blonde, petite as she was, made him feel small as her eyes skimmed him up and down.

He glanced down at his clothes and winced. Lifted a hand to his bristly chin and winced again.

He hadn’t shaved since they’d arrived in town two days ago, and he’d grabbed these clothes from the heap of clean but wrinkled laundry beside his bed. Not only because he was busy trying to get Jax settled, but because he couldn’t bring himself to care about folding laundry and shaving and most of the other tasks under the general heading of personal hygiene. A shower a day, and a bath for Jax, was about all he could manage. His brother and sister—his surviving sister—had scolded him about it, back home.

He couldn’t explain all of that, didn’t need to. It wasn’t this shivering stranger’s business. “Jax is going to enroll here,” he said.

“Really?” Another wave of shivers hit her, making her teeth chatter. Tony didn’t know where she’d come from, but apparently her mission of mercy had compelled her to run outside without her coat.

He’d offer her his, but he had a feeling she’d turn up her nose.

“The school is closed on Sundays,” she said.

Thank you, Miss Obvious. But given that he and Jax had slipped through a gap in the playground’s loosely chained gate, he guessed their presence merited a little more explanation. “I’m trying to get him used to the place before he starts school tomorrow. He has trouble with...” Tony glanced down at Jax, who’d stopped crying and stuck his thumb in his mouth, and a surge of love and frustration rose in him. “He has trouble with basically everything.”

The woman shook her head and put a finger to her lips, then pointed at the child.

What was that all about? And who was she, the parenting police? “Do you have a reason to be here?” he asked, hearing the truculence in his own voice and not caring.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I work nearby,” she said. “Saw you here and got concerned, because the little guy seemed to be upset. For that matter, he still seems to be.”

No denying that. Jax had tensed up as soon as they’d approached the preschool playground, probably because it was similar to places where he’d had other bad experiences. Even though Jax had settled some, Tony could feel the tightness in his muscles, and he rubbed circles on his nephew’s back. “He’s been kicked out of preschool and day care before,” he explained. “This is kind of my last resort.”

She frowned. “You know he can hear you, right?”

“Of course he can hear, he’s not...” Tony trailed off as he realized what she meant. He shouldn’t say negative things about Jax in front of him.

She was right, but she’d also just met him and Jax. Was she really going to start telling him how to raise his nephew?

Of course, probably almost anyone in the world would be better at it than he was.

“Did you let the school know the particulars of his situation?” She leaned against the slide’s ladder, her face concerned.

Tony sighed. She must be one of those women who had nothing else to do but criticize how others handled their lives. She was cute, though. And it wasn’t as if he had much else to do, either. He’d completed all the Victory Cottage paperwork, and he couldn’t start dealing with the program’s other requirements until the business week started tomorrow.

Jax moved restlessly and looked up at him.

Tony set Jax on his feet and gestured toward the play structure. “Go ahead and climb. We’ll go back to the cottage before long.” He didn’t know much about being a parent, but one thing he’d learned in the past three months was that tiring a kid out with active play was a good idea.

Jax nodded and ran over to the playset. His tongue sticking out of one corner of his mouth, forehead wrinkled, he started to climb.

Tony watched him, marveling at how quickly his moods changed. Jax’s counselor said all kids were like that, but Jax seemed a little more extreme than most.

No surprise, given what he’d been through.

Tony looked back at the woman, who was watching him expectantly.

“What did you ask me?” Sometimes he worried about himself. It was hard to keep track of conversations, not that he had all that many of them lately. None, except with Jax, since they’d arrived in Pleasant Shores two days ago.

“I asked if you let the school know about his issues,” she said. “It might help them help him, if they know what they’re working with.”

“I didn’t tell them about the other schools,” he said. “I didn’t want to jinx this place, make them think he’s a bad kid, right from the get-go. He’s not.”

“I’m sure he isn’t,” she said. “He’s a real cutie. But still, you should be up front with his teachers and the principal.”

Normally he would have told her to mind her own business, but he was just too tired for a fight. “You’re probably right.” It was another area where he was failing Jax, he guessed. But he was doing the best he could. It wasn’t as if he’d had experience with any kids other than Jax. Even overseas, when the other soldiers had given out candy and made friends, he’d tended to terrify the little ones. Too big, too gruff, too used to giving orders.

“Telling the school the whole story will only help him,” she said, still studying Jax, her forehead creased.

He frowned at her. “Why would you care?”

“The truth is,” she said, “I’m going to be his teacher.”

Great. He felt his shoulders slump. Had he just ruined his nephew’s chances at this last-resort school?

MONDAY MORNING, KAYLA welcomed the last of her usual students and stood on tiptoes to look down the stairs of the Coastal Kids preschool. Where were Tony and Jax?

She’d informed two of her friendliest and most responsible students that a new boy was coming today and that they should help him to feel at home. If he didn’t get here in time for the opening circle, she’d tell all twelve of the kids about Jax.

But maybe his uncle had changed his mind about enrolling him.

Maybe Kayla’s mother, who was the principal of the little early learning center, had decided Jax wasn’t going to be a good fit and suggested another option for him. That would be rare, but it occasionally happened.

Mom said Kayla fretted too much. Probably true, but it was in the job description. Kayla felt a true calling to nurture and educate the kids in her care. Sometimes, that meant worrying about them.

The Coastal Kids Early Learning Center was housed in an old house that adjoined a local private school. Kayla’s classroom was one of three located upstairs, and from hers, she could see down the central staircase to the glassed-in offices. Her mother was welcoming a few stragglers, but there was still no sign of her new student.

She turned back to face her students. “Good job sharing,” she said to redheaded Nicole, who was holding out a plastic truck to her friend. “Jacob, we don’t run in the classroom. Why don’t you look at the new books on our reading shelf?”

After making sure all the kids were occupied with their morning playtime, she stepped out into the hall. If she could flag down her mother, she’d try to find out what was going on with Jax.

And then Tony came into the school, holding Jax’s hand.

Kayla sucked in a breath. Wow. He cleaned up really well.

Not that he was entirely cleaned up; he still had the stubbly half beard that made him look a little dangerous, and his thick, dark hair was overlong. But he wore nice jeans and a green sweater with sleeves pushed up to reveal muscular forearms. He knelt so Jax could jump onto his back for a piggyback ride, then stood easily, and Kayla sucked in another breath. There was something about a guy who was physically strong.

He stopped and spoke to Kayla’s mother—she’d been occupied with another parent right inside the office, apparently—and then, at her gesture, headed up the stairs toward Kayla’s classroom.

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

About the Author

Lee Tobin McClain is the bestselling author of more than thirty emotional, small-town romances described by Publishers Weekly as enthralling, intense, and heartfelt. A dog lover and proud mom, she often includes kids and animals in her books. When she's not writing, she enjoys hiking with her goofy goldendoodle, chatting online with her writer friends, and admiring her daughter's mastery of the latest TikTok dances.

Connect:

Author Website

Facebook: @leetobinmcclain

Twitter: @LeeTobinMcClain

Goodreads

Spotlight: Licking Her Christmas Cookies by Alina Jacobs

Publication date: November 16th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

Synopsis:

In hindsight, opening a Christmas tree ornament shop in a small town was a terrible idea.

The Thanksgiving turkey is still warm, and I’m already up to my eyeballs in debt from my failed business.

To make matters worse, my knight in flannel never appeared—you know, the guy, the one who was tall, dark, and plaid, who had a friendly yellow lab and a truck and sold firewood, the one who showed the big-city heroine the true meaning of love and Christmas.

Yeah, he did not come rescue me.

Instead, Matt Frost showed up like the Prince of Winter to yell at me about the rent I owed him.

He did not feature in any of my Christmas fantasies. In fact, he was exactly the type of Christmas-hating alphahole billionaire in a suit I left Manhattan to escape.

I can’t worry about him.

I need to fix my life.

I have to make a bunch of money before Christmas Eve or I’m a toasted marshmallow.

No ornament will be left off this Christmas tree of desperation!

Gambling on the Christmas raffle that lets you win either ten thousand dollars, a giant snow globe, or a snack-addicted reindeer? Spin that roulette wheel and bring it on.

Moonlighting as an elf for an irate Santa? Mama’s gotta get paid.

Entering in The Great Christmas Bake-Off in hopes of winning the grand prize? Fetch me my custom elf apron.

I so have this bake-off wrapped, ribboned, and in my Christmas stocking.

Except when I’m paired with Matt the Grinch, I see my dreams of a debt-free Christmas going up in Yule log flames.

Matt Frost and I are not compatible baking partners.

Especially not after he licks the frosting off my Christmas cookies while I scream.

Not like that! He’s a Christmas-hating Scrooge who ruined my bake-off entry.

I am not in the market for a Christmas romance.

Especially not with a six-foot-five guy with ice-blue eyes and washboard abs.

No, not even when he’s covered in frosting, standing in front of a decorated tree, and looking better than an edible Christmas card.

Nope, not even then.

‘Tis the season for holiday romance! This is a full-length standalone holiday romantic comedy with nonstop Christmas and romance. If you love over-the-top small-town Christmas festivals, overbearing but well-meaning great-aunts, and smoking hot guys in nothing but a Santa hat who will melt the snow off the roof of your house, snuggle up with a spiked hot chocolate and get in the Christmas romance spirit!

Excerpt

“Now,” I said, waving the chocolate-covered spoon at him, “are you going to let your ex walk all over you or are you going to pick up a whisk and win this competition?” 

His mouth was a thin line. Then his face relaxed in understanding. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he said, giving me a flash of teeth. “You think you can play to my ego and help you bake. Too bad.” 

“You need to help me!” I shrieked, finally giving up on the candy thermometer. Could you blame it? Who didn’t want to take a bath in a pot of warm chocolate?

“I need this win. You can’t do this to me.” 

“I absolutely can.”

I picked up the pot and slammed it on the counter. 

“You better fish that candy thermometer out of there,” Matt said in a mocking tone, stepping into my personal space bubble. “You might make someone sick.” 

He was making me sick. I turned back to the stove to grab my fork. I had to win. The cheesecake had to go into the oven soon. We were running out of opportunities for him to help. I looked at the clock then the other bakers. 

Ugh. Everyone else’s cheesecakes were already out of the oven and cooling. 

My dish was a mess. 

It won’t matter how good or bad it is if you get disqualified.

I couldn’t give up now.

I stepped up behind Matt, reached around him, and grabbed each of his hands.

He made a strangled noise as I pressed the full length of my body against him.

I think I severely miscalculated.

I was height challenged. And Matt was six feet five with long arms and huge hands that I could barely reach. I smooshed my boobs against his back… his very muscular, hard back.

Unghn. 

“Get off of me,” he growled.

“We’re baking,” I squeaked.

I laced my fingers in his left hand, and before he could throw me off, I pulled the pot of melted chocolate closer. Then, with his right hand, I picked up one of the truffle balls and plopped it into the melted chocolate. His hands were large under my own, the tendons fluttering against my palms as he let me manipulate his arms. I adjusted myself against him, and he grunted slightly. 

You really should have just stood next to him to do this baking puppetry, my mind chattered as I inhaled his scent, my nose pressed against the back of his suit jacket.

This was way too close. I forced his right hand to grab a fork and fish the truffle out of the chocolate.

“There. Now you participated,” I said as the truffle dropped onto the cooling rack with a plot. My voice sounded a little raspy. 

It’s the weather—all this cold, wet air. 

Matt turned back to me, eyes a deep blue. 

“Was that so hard?” I asked. 

“I don’t know. You were the one feeling me up. You tell me.” 

“I have to get this cheesecake in the oven,” I blurted out before I could say something like “You’re hard enough to be a nutcracker.” Which would, one, be an idiotic thing to say and two, make Matt think I thought he was attractive, which I certainly did not.  

I quickly made the rest of the truffles, keeping an eye on the clock. 

Matt wasn’t even pretending to look at his phone. He was just watching me work. Periodically he would steal one of the truffles right as I finished it. The third time he did it, I tried to stab him with a fork.

“Too slow.” 

“You could help,” I snapped at him.

“I already helped.” He gave me a smug look. “And now I’m just exhausted.” 

“Guess someone doesn’t have any staying power.”

“I absolutely have staying power.” 

“I doubt it. I bet that was why your ex left you,” I snapped back at him.

“You—” He bit back the curse word. He was probably going to call me a bitch. Which I probably was. That had been a low blow. 

But I was stressed! Everyone else was done and putting the elegant finishing touches on their cheesecakes because they actually had a partner who would help. We had another hour left on the clock. It took a cheesecake that long to bake at minimum.

I was facing a loss. Not just my pride but everything. And it was all because of Matt fucking Frost. 

“Or maybe it wasn’t your staying power,” I said shrilly, giving the cheesecake batter one more stir. “Maybe it was because you just stood around while she did all the work.”

“Fine, you want me to do the work?” Matt snarled at me. He snatched the bowl of batter out of my hand and emptied it into the springform pan, sending some of it splashing off the sides.

“You’re doing it wrong!” I protested. 

Matt scooped up the rest of the truffles and dumped them in the batter where they sank in a lump off to one side.

“They have to be artfully arranged.” I tried to shove him aside so I could salvage my cheesecake.

Matt picked up the pan, holding it aloft while I jumped around him like a Chihuahua trying to rescue my cake.

“You’re ruining it.”

“I’m helping,” he taunted. He opened the oven and practically threw the pan inside. “You’re welcome.”

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About the Author

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

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Spotlight: What Happened to Coco by VB Furlong

Publication date: December 4th 2021
Genres: Thriller, Young Adult

Synopsis:

When a girl disappears, long-buried secrets resurface…

Coco is missing. Her room’s a mess, and her phone is left behind in her dorm at Lainsbury Hall School

Ella, Coco’s childhood best friend, is desperate for her to return, although she knows that if she ever sees Coco again, there’ll be a lot of explaining to do.

Bea knows that her new group of friends attracts drama, and she thinks she has the last shred of common sense between them all. Only, if that was true, she would leave Genevieve, her toxic ex, well alone.

Conrad is confident that Coco will return safe and well. Only, the way his secrets are unravelling, he’s worried he won’t be when this is all over.

Harrison and Coco are the perfect couple. Everyone knows that. But looks can be misleading. Even the smartest boy in school can make a terrible mistake.

In order to navigate the web of secrets and lies that Coco leaves behind, her circle of friends needs to unravel a few of their own.

But the question remains: What happened to Coco?

Excerpt

Sat in one of the chairs before Mrs Hardy’s desk was a  young policeman. He wore a solemn expression on his  square-jawed face. His stubble was not the designer facial  hair seen on actors or models. Instead, Ella felt it gave him an  unkempt, dirty look. When she moved further into the room,  Ella scrunched her nose at the aroma of coffee and stale  cigarettes that clung to him.  

“This is officer Hobbs,” Hardy said quietly. 

“I’ll be having a short chat with you all today to find out  anything that could help us. We need to hear an exact account  of the last time you had any contact with Cordelia and any  leads you think may give an indication of where she could  be. Anything you think is relevant, please tell us now so we  can find her as soon as we can. Do you understand?” 

16

They all nodded. They were then told that they were to go  into an adjoining meeting room separately. Ella was called  first, and she felt her friends’ eyes on her back as she shuffled  into the office. She was afraid, of what she wasn’t sure, maybe  of being yelled at like they did on American cop shows, of  slamming the desk and throwing curveballs at her, making her  confused and messing up. She’d seen Making a Murderer. 

She never really enjoyed true crime documentaries or  conspiracy theories, but it was hard to be friends with Coco  without being drawn into it and then listen to her ramble on  for hours about how she always thought the brother seemed  fishy, or maybe it was the maid, or about jet fuel and steel  beams as though she was both a scientist and an engineer. 

“Ella,” Hobbs said, sending a warm and inviting smile in  Ella’s direction as he held the door open for her, but his  yellowing teeth did nothing to ease her anxiety. She sat on an  old wooden chair and Hobbs swept across the room in three  swift strides. He slumped into the far comfier-looking chair  across the table from Ella. This was the room that parents were  called into, where expulsions and suspensions were issued as  last resorts, thrown at students like cannonballs in a battle. 

“So today I’m just going to ask you a couple of basic  questions about… Coco you call her, yes? I understand you  were close.” He produced a notebook and pen from his jacket. Ella nodded. 

“How would you describe your relationship with her?” “She’s been my best friend since we were five.” “I see.” He nodded. “And is she known for being a  bit...reckless? Does she always follow rules?” 

“She’s careful. She wouldn’t go out at night without her  phone and tell no one where she was,” Ella said, knowing to  keep everything simple. Only answer the question asked, she  thought, remembering again all those horrifying  documentaries that followed people who were locked up for  ten years for a crime they didn’t commit. 

“She’s been found running around the school late at night  with a Harrison Fletcher, though, hasn’t she?” 

“Yeah, in school, accompanied by her boyfriend. Never  17

outside, never alone. Never without her phone. We’d always  known when she had done that too. She would tell us or post  every second online like usual. She didn’t do that last night  though, did she?” 

“Did she mention anywhere she would want to go? Any  parties? Maybe a secret boyfriend nearby?” 

Ella bit back an unwelcome desire to laugh. “She barely  keeps her tongue out of Harrison’s mouth for longer than two  minutes as it is. She has no time to have a secret boyfriend.  She goes to lessons, hangs out with us, or Harrison, and goes  to bed. The five of us are nearly always together.” 

“Okay…” he said, somewhat distracted as he scribbled  away into his official-looking notebook. Ella wondered what  she could have said to spur so much movement.

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About the Author

VB Furlong is a trainee lawyer and writer of young adult novels living in Berkshire, UK. She wrote her first “novel” at aged ten and has not stopped since then. Through her writing she aims to explore many of the issues she faced herself growing up, in the hopes that others facing the same issues feel some solidarity. Her friendships are a huge part of her life and consequently is a major theme in her writing, exploring the way in which we interact with each other, especially in difficult times.

Originally from Mumbles, Swansea, VB Furlong enjoys the sun and the sea, and walking her three dogs across the cliffs. These walks have offered her inspiration for many pieces of writing, including What Happened to Coco which she is excited to introduce as a coming of age boarding school thriller.

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Spotlight: One Christmas Wish by Brenda Jackson

Publication Date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: HQN Books

It’s Christmas in Catalina Cove, a time of promise and second chances. But when you’re starting over, love is the last thing you’re wishing for…

Vaughn Miller’s Wall Street career was abruptly ended by a wrongful conviction and two years in prison. Since then, he’s returned to his hometown, kept his head down and forged a way forward. When he is exonerated and his name cleared, he feels he can hold his head up once again, maybe even talk to the beautiful café owner who sets his blood to simmering.

Sierra Crane escaped a disastrous marriage—barely. She and her six-year-old goddaughter have returned to the only place that feels like home. Determined to make it on her own, Sierra opens a soup café. Complication is the last thing she needs, but the moment Vaughn walks into her café, she can’t keep her eyes off the smoldering loner.

When they give in to their attraction, what Sierra thought would be a onetime thing becomes so much more. Vaughn knows she’s the one. Sierra can’t deny the way Vaughn makes her feel, but she’s been burned before. With Christmas approaching, Vaughn takes a chance to prove his love, and it will be up to Sierra to decide if her one Christmas wish—true happiness—will come true.

Excerpt

1

SIERRA CRANE CRINGED every time her ex-husband called. Their marriage had ended almost two years ago, so why couldn’t he get on with his life the way she had gotten on with hers? She hadn’t heard from him since the divorce and now this was the second phone call in a month.

And why did he always manage to call her at the worst time? The dinner crowd was arriving at her soup café, the Green Fig, and she was short a waitress tonight. The last thing she needed to be doing was talking on the phone to her ex.

“What is it now, Nathan?” she asked, trying to keep her voice low to avoid being overheard by the customers coming in.

“You know what I want, Sierra. We rushed into our divorce and I want a reconciliation. We didn’t even seek counseling.”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t as if counseling would have helped their marriage. She had put up with things for as long as she could, and had to remove herself from that toxic environment. His infidelity had been the last straw, and then there had been his total lack of sensitivity when her best friend Rhonda Andrews was dying.

“Why are we even discussing this, Nathan? You know as well as I do that no amount of counseling would have helped our marriage. You betrayed me. I caught you in the act. Look, I’m busy,” she said when she saw customers waiting to be seated. “And do me a favor and don’t call back. Our divorce is final, and I intend for it to stay that way. Goodbye.” She clicked off the phone and, for good measure, she blocked his number.

Moving from behind the counter, she assisted her staff in seating customers and taking orders. It was an hour later when the dinner rush had ended that she found the time to go into her office and work on tomorrow’s menu. The monitor screen on her desk was connected to a video camera showing the perimeters of the dining area. If she was needed to assist her staff again, she would know it.

She sat in the chair behind her desk thinking about Nathan’s call. The nerve of him thinking they could get back together. Not only had he cheated on her but he had resented all the trips she’d taken from Chicago to Houston to spend time with Rhonda in her final days. It hadn’t mattered to him that Rhonda was terminally ill and there had been so much to do and so little time left.

The main focus had been the well-being of Rhonda’s four-year-old daughter, Teryn, who’d lost her father two years earlier in Afghanistan. Without family on both sides, Sierra was Teryn’s godmother and Rhonda had made Sierra promise to take care of Teryn when the time came. Nathan, who’d never wanted children, had been resentful of that, too.

It had been one of those weekends she’d visited Rhonda in Houston and she’d returned home early to find another couple, namely her neighbors, in bed with her husband. That’s when she’d found out about his swinging lifestyle. He’d confessed it was something he had tried during his college days but thought he had put behind him...until he had discovered their new neighbors had enjoyed doing that sort of thing.

When Sierra had filed for divorce, Nathan assumed if he kept sending her flowers, calling her all the time, and showing up unexpectedly at her new residence with chocolates, designer purses and jewelry, he could wear down her resistance and she would call off the divorce. He finally saw that wasn’t happening.

An hour later Sierra left her office to return to the dining area. It was time for her only waitress on the floor tonight to take her break. Sierra had just stepped behind the counter when the sound of the bell above the door alerted her that she had a customer.

The Green Fig, which served lunch and dinner Mondays through Fridays, had been open for business for only a year. The restaurant closed every night at eight. Most of her customers were locals who’d known her grandmother and were happy that Ella Crane had passed her delicious soup recipes on to her granddaughter.

Sierra had a good staff. She’d hired Emma, who’d been a friend of her mother’s for years, as head cook and Maxine, who’d graduated from the New Orleans cooking school last year, as Emma’s assistant. Normally there were two waitresses, Iris and Opal, who handled the dining room, and Sherri took care of the take-out orders. On any given day there were more take-out orders than sit-down orders, especially during lunch.

She’d hired Levi Canady as the assistant manager. An ex-cop who’d retired early from the force due to an injury, he was also a good friend of Sierra’s father from their elementary school days. Levi was a godsend and would take over for Sierra whenever Teryn came home from school. He managed the restaurant every night except on Wednesdays. He also opened and closed for her on Saturdays, when the restaurant was open only for lunch. Whenever Teryn had gymnastics practice Sierra would help out in the café until she got home. Today was one of those days.

Sierra glanced at the door and saw Vaughn Miller walk in, dressed in a business suit. On any other man the outfit would probably look like just regular professional attire, but on him it appeared tailor-made. He was a very handsome man and looking good in anything he wore was just part of who he was.

Sierra didn’t know Vaughn personally, although they had both been born in Catalina Cove and had attended the same schools. She hadn’t had the right pedigree to be in his social circles since his family had been one of the wealthiest in town. They had come from old money, probably as old as it could get in the cove when you were a descendant of the town’s founder.

When Vaughn Miller took a seat at one of the booths, she grabbed a menu out of the rack and headed to his table. He’d come in once or twice before, but it had always been for takeout. It appeared that today he intended to dine in.

“Welcome to the Green Fig.”

He looked up when she handed him the menu. “Thanks.”

This was the closest she had ever been to Vaughn Miller and she couldn’t help noticing things she hadn’t seen from a distance. Like the beautiful hazel coloring of his eyes. He had sharp cheekbones and she liked the way his nose was the perfect size for his face and the full lips beneath it. And speaking of lips...did his have to be of such sensual perfection? And then she couldn’t miss the light beard that covered his lower jaw and how it enhanced those lips but didn’t hide the dimple in his chin.

Vaughn’s skin was a maple brown and he wore his thick black hair long. It wasn’t down past his shoulders like Kaegan Chambray’s, but it was long enough to touch his collar. To her the long and tousled hairstyle did much to highlight his French Creole ancestry.

The Creoles derived from free people of color from Africa, France and Spain, as well as other mixed-heritage descendants. Those blended races and cultures were a large population of Louisiana, and more specifically, New Orleans, Catalina Cove and other surrounding cities.

Sierra had to concur with the feminine whispers around town that Vaughn Miller was a very handsome man and a sharp dresser, yet she noted he had a definite rugged masculine appeal. Even dressed nicely in a suit, all you had to do was add a tricorne hat on his head and a loop earring in his ear and he would instantly become a dashing pirate. A look that no doubt would make his great-great-great-great-grandfather, the cove’s founder, Jean Lafitte, proud.

She knew six years ago he’d been sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Three months ago, articles appeared in numerous newspapers reporting on his exoneration and how those who were guilty had been brought to justice. He had been cleared of all charges.

“What’s the special for today?”

She blinked upon realizing she’d been standing there staring at him the entire time. Clearing her throat, she said, “Today’s special is the broccoli and cheese soup and it’s served with a half sandwich. Turkey or chicken.”

He smiled up at her and that smile made his features even more beguiling and clearly showed that dimple in his chin. “That sounds good. I’d like a bowl with a chicken sandwich.”

She wrote his order down on the pad and noticed his French accent. She recalled overhearing her parents say that his mother had been French and his father mixed French and African American, and that French had been the primary language spoken in the Miller household. She also remembered hearing while growing up he would spend his summers in France as well with his grandparents. That was probably the reason the accent was still strong after all this time.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Brown ale.”

Sierra nodded. “Okay, I’ll put in your order and get your ale.”

“Thanks.”

She turned and walked toward the kitchen. When she knew she was out of his sight and that of customers and staff, she fanned herself with the menu. Vaughn Miller had definitely made every hormone in her body sizzle.

One Christmas Wish by Brenda Jackson. Copyright © 2021 by Brenda Streater Jackson. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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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.

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