Spotlight: Home Sweet Christmas by Susan Mallery

Publication Date: October 4, 2022

Publisher: HQN

#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery's second book set in the small town of Wishing Tree, Washington is the witty and heartfelt story of two friends who expectedly find the person--and the place in which--they belong this Christmas, for fans of Elin Hildebrand, Robyn Carr, and Susan Wiggs.

This small-town life wasn’t supposed to be for Camryn Neff. But after her mother died, Camryn moved home to Wishing Tree, Washington to care for her teenaged twin sisters and run the family wrapping paper business, Wrap Around the Clock. She loves her sisters and would do anything for them but, when they head off to college, she’s excited to move back to Chicago and restart her real life, completely attachment-free. So when a prospective client schedules a meeting and announces Project: Jake’s Bride, a plot to find a wife for her son, Camryn is completely disinterested. And when this client announces that Camryn is a candidate, she’s horrified. Being tied down is the last thing Camryn needs right now. She has no choice but to tell Jake what his mom is planning. But Camryn never expected to genuinely like him so much…

River Best knows all about the danger of keeping secrets. After all, she’s had her heart broken and her world rocked by secrets a few times now and she won’t ever let it happen again. New to Wishing Tree and a little shy, River is looking to get involved in the community so she lets her friends talk her into running for Snow Queen, one of the town's honorary hosts of all Christmas events. She never expected to be drawn to Dylan Tucker, her Snow King. As the season progresses, River starts to trust him more and more and wonders if he's the one. But little does River know that Dylan is keeping a secret from her, one that threatens everything between them.

Excerpt

one

“Your teeth are lovely, Camryn. Did you wear braces as a child?”

Camryn Neff reminded herself that not only was the woman sitting across from her a very wealthy potential client, but also that her mother had raised her to be polite to her elders. Still, it took serious effort to keep from falling out of her chair at the weirdness of the question.

“No. This is how they grew.”

Hmm, that didn’t sound right, although to be honest, she didn’t have a lot of experience when a conversation turned dental.

She refocused her mind to the meeting at hand. Not that she knew for sure why Helen Crane, leader of Wishing Tree society, such as it was, and sole owner of the very impressive Crane hotel empire, wanted to meet with her. The summons had come in the form of a handwritten note, inviting her to the large, sprawling estate on Grey Wolf Lake. Today at two.

So here Camryn was, wearing a business suit that had been hanging in her closet for over a year. The dress code for Wishing Tree retail and the dress code for the job in finance she’d left back in Chicago were very different. While it had been fun to dust off her gorgeous boots and a silk blouse, and discover her skirts still fit, she was ready to get to the point of the invitation.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Crane?” she asked.

“Helen, please.”

Camryn smiled. “Helen. I’m happy to host a wrapping party, either here or at the store. Or if you’d prefer, I can simply collect all your holiday gifts and wrap them for you.”

She casually glanced around at the high ceilings of the sitting room. There was a massive fireplace, intricate molding and a view of the lake that, even with two feet of snow on the ground, was spectacular. And while there were lovely fall floral displays on several surfaces, there wasn’t a hint of Christmas to be found. Not in Wishing Tree, eight days before Thanksgiving. Those decorations didn’t appear until the Friday after.

“I have some samples for custom wrapping paper,” she said, pulling out several sheets of paper from her leather briefcase. “The designs can be adjusted and the colors coordinated with what you have planned for this holiday season. Wrapped presents under a tree are such an elegant touch.”

“You’re very thorough,” Helen murmured. “Impressive.” She made a note on a pad. “Are you married, dear?”

“What?” Camryn clutched the wrapping paper samples. “No.”

Helen nodded. “Your mother passed away last year, didn’t she?”

A fist wrapped around Camryn’s heart. “Yes. In late October.”

“I remember her. She was a lovely woman. You and your sisters must have been devastated.”

That was one word for it, Camryn thought grimly, remembering how her life had been shattered by the loss. In the space of a few weeks, she’d gone from being a relatively carefree, engaged, happy junior executive in Chicago to the sole guardian for her twin sisters, all the while dealing with trying to keep Wrap Around the Clock, the family business, afloat. The first few months after her mother’s death were still a blur. She barely remembered anything about the holidays last year, save an unrelenting sadness.

“This year the season will be so much happier,” Helen said firmly. “Victoria and Lily are thriving at school. Of course they still miss their mother, but they’re happy, healthy young adults.” The older woman smiled. “I know the teen years can be trying but I confess I quite enjoyed them with Jake.”

Camryn frowned slightly. “How do you know about the twins?” she asked.

Helen’s smile never faded. “It’s Wishing Tree, my dear. Everyone knows more than everyone else thinks. Now, you’re probably wondering why I invited you over today.”

“To discuss wrapping paper?” Although even as Camryn voiced the question, she knew instinctively that was not the real reason.

Helen Crane was close to sixty, with perfect posture and short, dark hair. Her gaze was direct, her clothes stylish. She looked as if she’d never wanted for anything and was very used to getting her way.

“Of course you’ll take care of all my wrapping needs,” Helen said easily. “And I do like your idea of custom paper for faux presents under the tree. I’ll have my holiday decorator get in touch with you so you two can coordinate the design. But the real reason I asked you here is to talk about Jake.”

Camryn was having a little trouble keeping up. The order for wrapping and the custom paper was great news, but why would Helen want to discuss her son?

She knew who Jake was—everyone in town did. He was the handsome, successful heir to the Crane hotel fortune. He’d been the football captain in high school, had gone to Stanford. After learning the hotel business at the smaller Crane hotels, he was back in Wishing Tree, promoted to general manager of the largest, most luxurious of the properties.

They’d never run in the same circles back when they’d been kids, in part because she was a few years younger. She’d been a lowly freshman while he’d been a popular senior. Her only real connection with Jake was the fact that he’d once been engaged to her friend Reggie.

Helen sighed. “I’ve come to the conclusion that left to his own devices, Jake is never going to give me grandchildren. I lost my husband eighteen months ago, which has been very hard for me. It’s time for my son to get on with finding someone, getting married and having the grandchildren I deserve.”

Well, that put the whole “did you wear braces” conversational gambit in perspective, Camryn thought, not sure if she should laugh or just plain feel sorry for Jake. His mother was a powerful woman. Camryn sure wouldn’t want to cross her.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with me,” she admitted.

Helen tapped her pad of paper. “I’ve come up with a plan. I’m calling it Project: Jake’s Bride. I’m going to find my son a wife and you’re a potential candidate.”

Camryn heard all the words. Taken individually, she knew what Helen was saying. But when put together, in that exact way, the meaning completely escaped her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re pretty, you’re smart. You’ve done well at Wrap Around the Clock. You’re nurturing—look how you’ve cared for your baby sisters.” Helen smiled again. “I confess I do like the idea of instant grandchildren, so that’s a plus for you. There are other candidates, of course, but you’re definitely near the top of the list. All I need is confirmation from your gynecologist that you’re likely to be fertile and then we can get on with the business of you and Jake falling in love.”

“You want to know if I’m fertile?”

Camryn shoved the samples back in her briefcase and stood. “Mrs. Crane, I don’t know what century you think we’re living in, but this isn’t a conversation I’m going to have with you. My fertility is none of your business. Nor is my love life. If your plan is genuine, you need to rethink it. And while you’re doing that, you might want to make an appointment with your own doctor, because there’s absolutely something wrong with you.”

Helen looked surprisingly unconcerned. “You’re right, Camryn. I apologize. Mentioning fertility was going a bit too far. You’re the first candidate I’ve spoken to, so I’m still finding my way through all this.” She wrote on her pad. “I won’t bring that up again. But as to the rest of it, seriously, what are your thoughts?”

Camryn sank back on her chair. “Don’t do it. Meddling is one thing, but you’re talking about an actual campaign to find your son a bride. No. Just no. It’s likely to annoy him, and any woman who would participate in something like this isn’t anyone you want in your family.”

Helen nodded slowly. “An interesting point. It’s just they make it look so easy on those reality shows.”

“Nothing is real on those shows. The relationships don’t last. Jake’s going to find someone. Give him time.”

“I’ve given him two years. I’m not getting younger, you know.” Her expression turned wistful. “And I do want grandchildren.”

“Ask me on the right day and you can have the twins.”

Helen laughed. “I wish that were true.” Her humor faded. “Do you know my son?”

“Not really.”

“We could start with a coffee date.”

Camryn sighed. “Helen, seriously. This isn’t going to work. Let him get his own girl.”

“He’s not. That’s the problem. All right, I can see I’m not going to convince you to be a willing participant. I appreciate your time.” She rose. “I meant what I said about the wrapping. I’ll arrange to have all my gifts taken to your store. And my holiday decorator will be in touch about the custom paper.”

“Is the holiday decorator different from the regular decorator?” Camryn asked before she could stop herself.

Helen chuckled. “Yes, she is. My regular decorator is temperamental and shudders at the thought of all that cheer and tradition. He came over close to Christmas a few years ago and nearly fainted when he saw the tree in the family room.”

She leaned close and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s devoted to all the ornaments Jake made for me when he was little. There are plaster handprints and little stars made out of Popsicle sticks. My favorite is a tuna can with a tiny baby Jesus in the manger tucked inside. There’s bits of straw and a star.” She pressed both hands to her heart. “I tear up thinking about it.”

Baby Jesus in a tuna can? Helen was one strange woman.

Camryn collected her briefcase and followed Helen to the front door. Helen opened it, then looked at her.

“You’re sure about not being a part of Project: Jake’s Bride?”

“Yes. Very.” Camryn kept her tone firm, so there would be no misunderstanding.

“A pity, but I respect your honesty.”

Camryn walked to her SUV and put her briefcase in the backseat. Once she was behind the wheel, she glanced at the three-story house rising tall and proud against the snow and gray sky.

The rich really were different, she told herself as she circled the driveway and headed for the main road. Different in a cray-cray kind of way.

She turned left on North Ribbon Road. When she reached Cypress Highway, she started to turn right—the shortest way back to town. At the last minute, she went straight. Even as she drove north, she told herself it wasn’t her business. Maybe Jake knew about his mother’s plans. Maybe he supported them.

Okay, not that, she thought, passing the outlet mall, then turning on Red Cedar Highway and heading up the mountain. She might not know Jake very well, but Reggie had dated him for months. Reggie was a sweetie who would never go out with a jerk. So Jake had to be a regular kind of guy, and regular guys didn’t approve of their mothers finding them wives.

Besides, she doubted Jake needed any help in that department. He was tall, good-looking and really fit. She’d caught sight of him jogging past her store more than once and was willing to admit she’d stopped what she was doing to admire the view. He was also wealthy. Men like that didn’t need help getting dates.

The sign for the resort came into view. She slowed for a second, then groaned as she drove up to the valet. Maybe she was making a mistake, but there was no way she couldn’t tell Jake what had just happened. It felt too much like not mentioning toilet paper stuck to someone’s shoe.

If he already knew, then it would be a short conversation. If he didn’t care, then she would quietly think less of him and leave. If he was as horrified as she thought he might be, then she’d done her good deed for the week and yay her. Whatever the outcome, she would have done the right thing, which meant she would be able to sleep that night. Some days that was as good as it was going to get.

Excerpted from Home Sweet Christmas by Susan Mallery. Copyright © 2022 by Susan Mallery. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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About the Author

SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship, romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to agree—40 million copies of her books have sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.

Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She's passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as mom. Visit Susan online at www.susanmallery.com.

Author Website: https://www.susanmallery.com/ 

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/susanmallery 

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/susanmallery 

Spotlight: Filthy Rich Lawyers by Brian M. Felgoise and David Tabatsky

Brian Felgoise has been practicing class-action law for more than 25 years, and he draws upon his real-world interactions with lawyers, judges and plaintiffs to inform his new, satirical legal thriller with co-author David Tabatsky called Filthy Rich Lawyers, Book One: The Education of Ryan Coleman.

The story begins in a Texas courtroom, where Ryan Coleman, a young, ambitious lawyer from Philadelphia, is chasing his share of a class-action lawsuit involving a multi-national defense contractor. After getting reprimanded by the judge for speaking out of turn, Coleman meets Robert Smalley, a brilliant attorney and borderline criminal who boasts that, “I have the greatest practice of law in the world because I have no clients.” And with that, Coleman is drawn into a hedonistic world of wealth and power at the core of Filthy Rich Lawyers.

Included in the cast of colorful characters is Eugenia “Gene” Cauley, a female shark in the male-dominated legal world whose life spirals tragically out of control, and Randy Hollis, an insanely successful lawyer turned multi-billionaire, who is pursuing his ultimate American dream: buying a professional football team. Coleman becomes Hollis’ “errand boy,” but as Hollis is investigated by journalists, law associations and government agents, Coleman must decide if he wants to remain in this sordid circle.

Federal prosecutor Patrick Coyle wants to take Hollis down because of an old grudge. He aligns with Dick Dickey, former Secretary of Defense and CEO of a military contractor, to ruin Hollis and Coleman. When an escort mysteriously dies in Hollis’ penthouse, Coleman becomes an unwitting accomplice and must choose between protecting his boss and saving his marriage, or telling the truth and risk going to prison.

Filthy Rich Lawyers reveals the surprising ways in which our system of class-action law enables (mostly) men to get ridiculously wealthy and behave like sophomoric frat boys.

Buy on Amazon

About the Authors

Brian M. Felgoise, Esq., is a graduate of Temple University Law School and has been practicing class-action law for more than 25 years, including cases where billions of dollars have been recovered for class members who lost a significant amount of money.

David Tabatsky has authored, co-authored and edited many novels, including The Boy Behind the Door, Friends Like These, The Marijuana Project, The Battle of Zig Zag Pass and Drunk Log. His memoir, American Misfit, was published in 2017. Tabatsky was consulting editor for Marlo Thomas and her New York Times bestseller, The Right Words at the Right Time, Volume 2. To learn more, please visit www.tabatsky.com.

Other connections:

https://www.instagram.com/filthyrichlawyers/https://twitter.com/filthyrichlaw

https://www.facebook.com/filthyrichlawyers

FilthyRichLawyers.com

Spotlight: The Other Side of Certain by Amy Willoughy-Burle

Publication Date: September 21, 2022
Fireship Press

Series: Love for Certain, Book 1
Genre: Historical Fiction

For the love of love…and books

Mattie Mobley planned to be a teacher, but when times grew tough during America’s Great Depression, and there were no teaching positions in her hometown of Asheville, NC, Mattie found work starting a school and helping the Pack Horse Librarians just over the mountains in the rural town of Certain, Kentucky. She’s not certain at all that this is a good situation, but she’s determined, and honestly, a little desperate. Of all the things that Mattie does have—money, comforts, a good name, she doesn’t have what matters most—friends, love, and a purpose of her own.

Daniel, “The Grizzly Bear,” Barrett had a lovely life for a little while. Overcoming his family’s bad name and worse reputation, he made a life for himself in Certain. He was married with children and a figure of respect in his church, but desperate times called for desperate measures and a terrible tragedy was the result. Now exiled with his children along the wily run of the Hell for Certain Creek, Daniel has gotten used to being the town pariah again. It’s in his blood after all. Right? Maybe not, but he’ll need the powerful influence of love not only to change his own mind about himself but to convince his estranged extended family and the whole town as well.

Can one librarian with a saddlebag full of books make people see the difference between fact and fiction? Mattie loves a good story, and this may be her best one yet. Fiction tells the best truths and the best truth of all is love.

Excerpt

Mattie

“It’s the book woman come back, Da,” the oldest of the girls shouted at a parent whom I didn’t see. “Here we are,” she shouted at me, waving her hands like I didn’t see her and might turn around and leave. 

I studied the children’s faces like I had at every other house. This would take a while, but I wanted to know them all. Two girls, one who seemed to be about thirteen or so and a younger one who might have been ten. There was also a little boy no more than four years old at best. Little bear cubs, no doubt. I looked across the yard for any signs of a bear. None. 

“Is your mother inside?” I asked. “I’d love to meet her.”

“Mama is in Heaven,” the little boy said and I had to work hard to not gasp at the sound of his little voice proclaiming such a sad thing with such an uplift in his tone. 

“I am sorry to hear that, little ones.” I looked at the older girl’s face and saw the same eyes I see in the mirror when I think about my own mother. “Mine is as well.”

We stood for another moment, and then I cleared away the ghosts of loss by reaching into my bag and pulling out the books I had for them.  

“Where is your father?” I asked. “I should introduce myself.”

“He’s out back in the garden. Working. He said a storm’s coming and he wants to finish as soon as he can.”

I nodded. I was sure that simple pleasures like reading seemed a waste of time to a hardworking man, especially now, when there was more to worry over than what happens in the next chapter of a story. This current chapter the world was on was hard enough to manage. 

“I’ll go and speak to him. You three enjoy these books and I’ll be back in about two weeks.” 

The three of them ran back inside their cabin. 

I stepped around the back of the house. The sky was darkening more quickly than I was prepared for. I felt my heart begin to race. 

“Mattie,” I said out loud to myself, “you are being ridiculous. There is not an actual grizzly bear here. It is only a man and how scary could he possibly be. They are fooling with you.”

I took a breath and went around the back of the cabin. There, in another section of this secret garden of sorts, I saw a man working about a third of the way into a decent sized plot of vegetables. The garden was beautiful--the way the beans climbed up the trellises bound together like little tee-pees, and how the tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, melons even, grew in their own rows and squared plots bordered with smooth rocks. This land was not fit for agriculture in the slightest, but here was this garden nonetheless. This has taken effort and care and time. Much of it. 

The man’s back was to me, so I called out to him.

“Sir, my name is Mattie Mobley. I’m one of the librarians from town.” I stepped over a row of broccoli. “I’m taking over for Lizzy for a bit while I get a new school set up. I’d love to tell you all about it.”

He didn’t seem to mind me at all. Perhaps he couldn’t hear. I reached out to tap him on the shoulder, and at that moment he turned around. Looming over me and just inches away, his face was nearly completely covered with a dark and tangled black beard. His hair protruded from his straw hat so that the wild locks covered most of his forehead. I could clearly see a pair of very stern and angry green eyes glaring at me. I tried to step backwards, but my heel sank into the dirt and I found myself fumbling both forward and back at the same time on my stupid, mud caked Oxfords. The man seemed to lunge at me, and I put my hands up in front of my face to shield whatever attack was coming. He caught me by the arm and grabbed a hold of my shoulder. 

“Sir, please,” I said desperately, but even at the same time, I realized that he was not actually attacking me, but keeping me from falling down. 

I caught my breath and righted myself, not before turning my ankle again. He looked down at my feet and then again at my face. He was still holding onto my shoulder. 

“I’m fine now. Thank you,” I said, trying to sound confident and aloof, yet knowing I was talking to the very grizzly about whom I had been warned. Maybe he wasn’t that bad. “As I was saying. I’m Mattie Moley…”

“Leave the books and go,” he grunted his interruption, proving me wrong. “Get out of my garden before you ruin my yield.” He turned his back on me and went about his business.

My heart raced. I wasn’t sure if I was angry at him for being so rude, or simply relieved that he’d turned away and given me an escape.

Either way, I left as instructed, and I did it as quickly as possible. The sky was indeed darkening to an ominous gray, the storm now set to come in.  

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Amy Willoughby-Burle grew up in the small coastal town of Kure Beach, NC, and now lives in Asheville, NC with her husband and four children. She teaches creative writing and works as a freelance editor when not working on her own fiction. She is also the director of Wildacres Writers Workshop. She is the author of the novels The Lemonade Year and The Year of Thorns and Honey. Her award-winning short fiction has been published in numerous journals and in her collection, Out Across the Nowhere. Her fiction focuses on the importance of family and friends and centers on the themes of forgiveness, second chances, and finding beauty in the world around us. She likes to write about the wonder and mystery of everyday life.

Visit her online at www.amywilloughbyburle.com. You can also Amy on her blogFacebookTwitterInstagram, and Goodreads.

Spotlight: Reasons Why Not to Date Your Nemesis by Melanie Munton

(Shell Grove, #2)
Publication date: October 4th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

There’s a new sheriff in town…
And he’s her worst nightmare.

Reason #1: Ben Crawford is Olivia Knight’s long-time arch rival. They’ve been sworn enemies ever since she wore overalls to school one day, and he asked her in homeroom where she parked her cow. Now that he’s back, it doesn’t appear much has changed. He’s still arrogant. He’s still trouble. And this time, he’s got a badge and handcuffs. Which will make murdering him and disposing of his body much more challenging for her.

Reason #2: Sheriff Ben has done a lot of growing up during his time away from Shell Grove. He went and got himself some muscles and tattoos, and has the nerve to wear that sheriff’s uniform absurdly well. For some reason, that’s all she can seem to focus on whenever they cross paths. All the nice changes he’s made, instead of how vehemently she’s vowed to hate his guts for all eternity.

Reason #3: The complicated connection that has forever entwined their lives doesn’t have a pleasant backstory. As adults, they should be able to forget what happened when they were teenagers and move on. But in a small town where everyone has long memories, there are reminders everywhere of the nasty events that destroyed both of their families years ago. And she’s not sure their growing feelings for each other are enough to forgive the sins of the past and carve out a future…together.

Ben has a secret. A big one. The longer he’s in Shell Grove and surrounded by people who know his sordid history, the more likely that secret is going to come out. But if it does, Olivia will never speak to him again. Which will not do. Because he’s finally realized that Olivia is the reason why he came back to town in the first place. And if he doesn’t want to lose her forever, he needs to correct the mistakes he made a long time ago and prove he’s not the NEMESIS she’s always thought him to be.

Excerpt

Ben was barely listening to the conversation around him since a familiar tingling sensation had started crawling up the back of his neck. It was the anticipation of getting eyes on Olivia, needing eyes on her. Making sure that no one was heckling her, that she was having a good time. 

Oh, who are you bullshitting? You don’t want her having a good time with another guy. 

It made him a bastard, but yeah. He honestly didn’t know what he would do if he saw her flirting with another man. Probably break something. Maybe whip out his cuffs and threaten to arrest some motherfuckers. Which was completely insane. He needed to bottle that shit up immediately before the crazy started to show on his face. 

Something over Finn’s shoulder caught his attention, and Ben saw red.

He took it all back. There was a motherfucker that definitely needed arresting.

The one currently chatting up his girl. 

Your girl? Since when, Benny?

Some douchebag wearing a blue button-up shirt with whales all over it was smiling at Olivia from ear-to-ear as they stood next to the food truck-turned-mobile tiki bar, Freaky Tiki. He didn’t recognize the guy, but he was openly flirting with the wrong woman. 

“Be right back,” he bit out to his friends and took off storming across the sand.

He’d tried to control it. It wasn’t like they had agreed to be exclusive. They weren’t even dating, for Christ’s sake. But Ben acting on his jealousy toward Olivia had become a compulsion in a remarkably short period of time. Any man that showed the slightest interest in her, he wanted to pummel into the fucking ground. He knew it was selfish and irrational and completely unfair of him. But controlling that impulse—the impulse to do something and mark his territory—was as impossible as telling his dick to chill the fuck out every time it was in her presence. 

He was closing in on them before he took stock of himself. 

And oh, he really should have.

The county sheriff was barreling down on The Freaky Tiki like he was about to put somebody on their ass. People on the beach got out of his way and watched him with wide eyes, probably hoping they were about to catch something on their phones they could post on their socials. But he wasn’t going to get physical with the guy. Probably not. He was just going to intimidate the hell out of him until he put at least a good twenty feet between his body and Olivia’s.

Olivia caught sight of him approaching over Moby Dick’s shoulder, her face betraying her shock. 

“Evening, Liv.”

Her companion jolted because yeah, Ben had snuck up right behind him and the guy hadn’t even noticed. Military training strikes again. It wasn’t like Moby Dick was a shrimp by any means, but Ben still had inches and pounds on him. In the physical sense, Ben didn’t feel threatened at all. But when another male started sniffing around Olivia…he saw everything as a fucking threat. A simple nod, an innocent smile. Any behavior that was targeted at her for the express purpose of showing sexual or romantic interest risked the possibility of Olivia nodding back at someone else. Of her smiling back at someone that wasn’t him. And oftentimes, smiling was a gateway to so much more. 

“Hello, Sheriff.”

As casual a greeting as that was, her voice was anything but. The husky quality to her words belied an intimacy between them. A personal history. 

He fucking loved hearing that.

She cleared her throat and yanked her gaze away. “Um. Colin, this is Sheriff Crawford.”

Moby Dick shrewdly inspected him for a few seconds before rising to his full height that was still an inch or two shorter than Ben’s. “Nice to meet you.” 

When he stuck out his hand, Ben didn’t move to shake it. In fact, he didn’t address Dick at all.

To Olivia, he gritted out, “Could I have a word?”

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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!

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Spotlight: Out of Love by Ruth Cardello

Release Date: October 4

Laughter and sparks set the stage for a fun romance from New York Times bestselling author Ruth Cardello about a farmer who switches places with his business-savvy twin brother and falls in love with the daughter of his brother’s biggest client.

I just found out I have an identical twin. I’d love the idea if he wasn’t an arrogant, overconfident businessman who is determined to save my farm even though I’m in no danger of losing it. When I agreed to switch lives with him, it was supposed to be for a couple of hours.

I was told to lie low, meet no one, and let him deal with the oil company that was sniffing around my property. I agreed to the switch only because it was the first time since we’d met that my twin had shown interest in my life, and I hoped it would give us a better understanding of each other.

Hours drag into days. I consider our initial agreement void and head to his office. I’m sitting at his desk, mostly minding my own business, when a beautiful woman blusters in, ready for a confrontation with my brother about an email. She’s the daughter of my brother’s largest client.

I only flirt with her to make her smile. What could it hurt to pretend to be my brother just a little longer?

I didn’t expect to uncover a plan to sabotage my brother’s company. I don’t want to believe that the woman I can’t get out of my thoughts and would love to get into my bed has anything to do with what I’ve discovered.

Save the company.

Save the girl.

I have no idea how I’ll do either, but when something is done out of love, it has to work out.

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About the Author

Ruth Cardello hit the New York Times and USA Today Bestsellers Lists for the first time back in 2012. Millions of sales are evidence that her books are akin to potato chips, addictive from the first one. She has created a multi-series billionaire world with a combination of escapism and realism that has gained her a faithful following of readers.

Ruth Cardello was born the youngest of 11 children in a small city in northern Rhode Island. She spent her young adult years moving as far away as she could from her large extended family. She lived in Boston, Paris, Orlando, New York--then came full circle and moved back to New England. She now happily lives one town over from the one she was born in. For her, family trumped the warmer weather and international scene. 

She was an educator for 20 years, the last 11 as a kindergarten teacher. When her school district began cutting jobs, Ruth turned a serious eye toward her second love- writing and has never been happier. When she's not writing, you can find her chasing her children around her small farm or connecting with her readers online.

Connect with Ruth Cardello:

https://linktr.ee/ruthcardello 

Spotlight: Miss del Río: A Novel of Dolores del Río, the First Major Latina Star in Hollywood by Bárbara Mujica

Publication Date: October 4, 2022

Publisher: Graydon House

In the tradition of Marie Benedict's The Only Woman in the Room and Adriana Trigiani's All The Stars in the Heavens, a stunning biographical historical novel set over five decades about Mexican actress Dolores del Río—the first major Latina star in Hollywood, member of Tinseltown's glamorous inner circle with notables such as Orson Welles and Marlene Dietrich, and proud Mexican woman who helped pioneer Mexican cinema's Golden Age.

She was known as the most beautiful woman in the world, but Dolores del Río was more than a pretty face.

1910, Mexico: As the country’s revolution spreads, Dolores, the daughter of a wealthy banker, must flee her comfortable life in Durango or risk death. Her family settles in Mexico City, where, at 16, she marries the worldly Jaime del Río. But in a twist of fate, at a party she meets an influential American director who recognizes in her a natural performer. He invites her to Hollywood, and practically overnight, the famous Miss del Río is born.

In California, Dolores’s star quickly rises, and her days become a whirlwind of movie-making and glamorous events. Swept up in Tinseltown’s glitzy inner circle, she takes her place among film royalty such as Marlene Dietrich and Orson Welles. But as her career soars to new heights, her personal life becomes increasingly complicated, with family tragedy, painful divorce, and real heartache. And when she’s labeled box office poison amid growing prejudice before WWII, Dolores must decide what price she’s willing to pay to achieve her dreams, and if her heart and future instead lie where it all began... in Mexico.

Spanning half a century and narrated by Dolores’s fictional hairdresser and longtime friend, Miss del Río traces the life of a trailblazing woman whose legacy in Hollywood and in Mexico still shines bright today.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Durango, 1910

Escape

Lola crouched beside the armoire the way her mother had told her. Something was going on, something awful. Everyone looked terrified. Even Mamá, usually so regal and poised in her bustled skirts and lacy, tight-sleeved blouses, was tense and angry. Nearly all the maids had disappeared. Where were they? Only Juana—loyal Juana—had stayed behind to care for her, but now there was so much work to do that Juana couldn’t spend the whole day in the nursery. She had to take over the kitchen and do the jobs of the laundress and the parlormaid and the chambermaid, too. There was no one around to sweep Mamá’s hair up into a bird’s nest, and the strange thing was that Mamá didn’t seem to care. She pinned up her thick brown mane herself without fussing when a whole lock came loose and fell defiantly over her shoulder.

Lola began to whimper.

“Chatita!” hissed Doña Antonia. “I told you to be quiet. Don’t make a sound! It’s dangerous!”

She tiptoed across the bedroom where they were hiding and squatted beside Lola.

“Maman, I have to pee.”

“You can’t pee now. You have to be very, very still. They can’t know we’re here. And don’t call me maman! You’re going to get us killed!”

“But, Mami, I have to pee!”

Doña Antonia crawled toward the bed, grabbed the chamber pot from underneath, and dragged it back behind the armoire. “There, go ahead.”

Six-year-old Lola picked up her dress and pulled down her bloomers. When she was done, Doña Antonia pushed the pot away. “I can’t empty it now,” she whispered. “Just leave it there.”

Lola bit her lip. She knew better than to ask again what was going on. The tightness of her mother’s jaw, the way she rubbed her hands against her long black silk skirt, her hushed voice and edgy gaze—all these things told Lola that from now on she would have to sniff back her tears and not ask questions.

Things had begun to change months ago. Now, she could no longer tear through the patio with Juana, screeching with laughter, while her dog, Siroco, yapped happily. She was no longer free to dance for hours to the music of the Victrola. She could not ride out to the country house in the landau with Mamá and Papá, or trot around the orchard on her milk-white pony. She had to stay where she was, be very still, and creep around on all fours like a baby so that nobody would know they were hiding in their own house.

“How long do we have to stay here?” whispered Lola. She was tired of crouching by the armoire. The air reeked of piss, and the heat was stifling.

“I think they’ve gone. I’ll send Juana out to the patio to check.”

“Who’s gone, Mami?”

“I thought I heard a noise…but…let’s see what Juana says. If she says it’s clear, you can play, but stay indoors and away from the windows. Holy Virgin, this is a nightmare.”

A moment later, Juana entered the bedroom and assured them that no one was in the patio or the stables, and the doors were all secure. Lola sprang up, but Doña Antonia held on to her ankle.

“Wait,” she whispered. She still looked worried.

Lola squirmed. “Why? Juana says it’s alright!”

Doña Antonia sighed. She looked wistful, but after a moment, she said, “Alright. Go play.”

Lola had noticed that lately the grown-ups had been speaking in muffled voices. Her parents thought that Lola wasn’t listening, but she was. They tried to shield her from the truth, but they couldn’t. There had been stories about people just like them, the Ansúnsolo López Negrete family. Decent people who shared their idyllic existence in beautiful Durango, a city filled with elegant, colonial-style homes and wide streets upon which stylish carriages rolled day and night, a city that boasted a seventeenth-century baroque cathedral considered the jewel of northern Mexico. Decent people who came to her mother’s soirees, the men in top hats and tails, white boutonnieres in their lapels, the women in frilly, high-collared blouses. People whose children were learning French and believed Porfirio Díaz had saved Mexico from barbarism and superstition. Stories, for example, like what had happened the month before to the Pérez Lorenzo baby.

She had pieced it together from scraps of speech and muffled sobs behind closed doors. Pablito had been playing in his room, attended by his niñera. Lola had seen the child often—a roly-poly two-year-old with soft brown curls and rosy cheeks, the spitting image of his father. His mother, Doña Mercedes, gave him a kiss and told the nursemaid to put him down for a nap. The weather was lovely, temperate and dry, and she had instructed the servants to set up tables outside on the veranda for her weekly card game. But the tables weren’t there, the potted dahlias she had ordered the kitchen girls to place on each one still sitting in rows in the patio, fuchsia, crimson, orange, and yellow blooms opening to the sunlight like tiny origami forms. Doña Mercedes glanced at her watch. The ladies would arrive soon. She breathed deeply and listened. Silence. Suddenly she felt her blood turn to ice. She spun around, darted up the stairs, and ran to the nursery. A scream of terror froze in her throat. The nursemaid had vanished. A ladder rested against the unbolted window. Pablito was propped up in his little chair, his head thrown back, his mouth and eyes wide-open. Someone had arranged the scene to produce maximum horror when his mother found him sitting there, his throat slit from ear to ear.

Lola understood what had happened, but why did it happen? Could it happen to her?

After the tragedy at the Pérez Lorenzo estate, her mother became increasingly anxious and angry. She stopped being meticulous about her dress and hair. She sent Siroco to the country to be cared for by a farm family. Often she and Lola’s father, Don Jesús Leonardo, locked themselves in the study for hours, leaving Lola to fend for herself or hang on to Juana’s skirts while the maid ironed in the laundry room. Lola was bored and she missed her dog, but after a week or so, she began to lose her fear. She had heard of no other murders of children. Besides, she knew that Juana would never abandon her the way Pablito’s niñera had abandoned him. Juana had come to work for the Ansúnsolos as a ten-year-old and had lived with the family her whole life. She’d been taking care of Lola since she was born. She wouldn’t just disappear through an open window. Anyway, her parents were dead. Where would she go?

Sometimes Lola snuck away from the nursemaid and pressed her ear against the study door. She heard words like cash, accounts, liquidate, but she knew that her father had a high position at the Bank of Durango, so these were the kinds of words he always used. Then one day there were new words, words she hadn’t heard before: Pancho Villa. Lola didn’t dare ask her mother what these words meant, so she ran to Juana.

“Oh, Pancho Villa is a very famous man,” explained the maid nonchalantly. “His real name is Doroteo Arango. He shot a man to protect his sister’s honor. Right there in rancho El Gorgojito, one of your father’s properties. Your father is a very rich man, you know, señorita. Anyhow, now Pancho Villa has become a protector of the people.”

“Protector of the people? What does that mean?”

“Nothing you need to know about, little one. Now go and play. Do you want me to turn on the Victrola so you can dance? Only don’t dance near the window. It’s too dangerous.” Juana stroked Lola’s cheek and dug into the pocket of her apron. She pulled out a brightly colored candy and handed it to her. “Don’t tell your Mami,” she whispered with a wink.

Lola took the sweet and giggled. She felt safe with Juana.

*

One evening, a few days after that conversation, Doña Antonia instructed Juana to give Lola her supper and put her to bed early. Lola fell asleep almost immediately, but suddenly awakened in the middle of the night. She looked around. Something was off. A luminescent moon cast a diffused glow over the room. Why wasn’t the window shuttered beneath the gauzy curtains? Shadows flickered on the dimly lit wall. The silhouette of a person seemed to form and then dissolve. Lola trembled. Her eyes darted around the room. She saw the armoire, the dresser, the shelf for her dolls and toys. She saw the crucifix above her bed, a small table and chairs where she often took her meals, and the cabinet where the Victrola sat. Everything was in place. The statue of the Virgin stood white and ethereal on the nightstand. But where was Juana? She wasn’t on the cot by Lola’s bed, where she usually slept. Lola began to whimper.

“Juana!”

“Shh!” Juana stepped out from the alcove, fully dressed, a frayed rebozo thrown over her shoulders. She was carrying a candle. Its glimmer made the shadows on the wall dance and twist like rag dolls.

“Juana, I’m scared,” whispered Lola. “I think I heard a noise.”

“No, you didn’t. Go back to sleep.”

Another shadow appeared on the wall. Lola squinted hard. It wasn’t on the wall at all! It was a man standing in front of the wall! Lola couldn’t see his features, but she was sure this form was solid. The man took a step toward her. Lola screamed.

Juana raised her hand and slapped the child across the face. “Shut up!” she snapped.

Lola couldn’t believe the sting on her cheek. And she couldn’t believe the hatred in Juana’s voice or the cruelty in her eyes. Lola opened her mouth to say something, but Juana raised her hand again and the words stuck in her throat. A warm, sticky wetness oozed out of her body, covering her thighs and bottom, and then trickled down her leg. She had to scream. She had to call Papá. But she was paralyzed.

Juana said something to the man in a language that wasn’t Spanish. Lola didn’t understand it, but she knew it was a dialect of Nahuatl. Juana sometimes spoke it with the other maids or at the marketplace. Lola knew what was going to happen next. The man was going to grab her by the hair and Juana was going to hold her down. Then they would slit her throat. They would place her head on the pillow soaked with blood, and Mami would find her dead in the morning, just as Pablito’s mother had found him. Once again, Lola opened her mouth to scream, but before she could hurl a bloodcurdling shriek to wake up her parents, she felt something warm and gooey and disgusting on her face. The man wiped his lips and Lola grabbed a sheet to wipe the spit out of her eye. “¡Viva Pancho Villa!” he hissed.

The man grabbed the porcelain Virgin from the nightstand and smashed it against the edge. Then he snatched some silver knickknacks from the dresser. In a heartbeat, they were gone. They didn’t go out the window but ran down the stairs. Lola hardly heard them open the front door. They were careful. They didn’t slam the door. They didn’t want to wake up Papá, because Juana knew he had a gun and would use it. In her mind’s eye, Lola could see them seize the key to the front gate—Juana knew where it was hidden—and then cross the yard and exit.

As soon as she could move her legs, Lola ran to her parents’ room. Doña Antonia took one look at her little girl and began wailing and shaking like a branch in a storm. She held Lola to her. “Oh my God,” she cried. “Oh, my dear God!”

Lola’s father leaped out of bed and grabbed his hunting rifle. He lit a torch and surveyed the perimeters of the property, then came back inside, bolted the doors and windows, and went into the bedroom. He sat on the bed behind his wife and rubbed her shoulders. Doña Antonia was sobbing violently, but struggling to contain herself. When at last she’d steadied her hands, she rose and poured water into a basin. She washed Lola from head to toe, put a fresh nightgown on her, and rocked her like an infant until the child fell asleep. She placed her in her own bed and lay down beside her.

“They’ve invaded our home,” she said to her husband. “We have no choice now. We have to leave.”

Excerpted from Miss del Río by Bárbara Mujica. Copyright © 2022 by Bárbara Mujica. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Bárbara Mujica is the bestselling author of four novels, including Frida, which was translated into 17 languages. She is also an award-winning short story writer and essayist whose work has been published in The New York Times, The Washington Post, and The Miami Herald, among others. A professor emerita of Spanish at Georgetown University, she grew up in Los Angeles and now lives in Bethesda, Maryland.

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