(Pelican Point, #1)
Publication date: March 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Synopsis:
Welcome to Celtic Knot Winery, where the lush vineyards are ripe with secrets, and love is as rich and complex as the finest vintage.
In Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots, four intertwined romance stories unfold against the enchanting backdrop of rolling hills and grapevines. Each tale weaves its own unique tapestry of passion, betrayal, and heartwarming redemption, proving that amidst the beauty of the vineyard, anything is possible.
Pour a glass and lose yourself in Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots, where every story uncorks a new journey of the heart. Amidst secrets and seduction, these tales remind us that love is the most intoxicating wine of all.
Included in the anthology:
Love’s Hidden Knot by Annie Carlisle
Love Undercover by Irene Lawless
Love Me, Love Me Knot by CA Miconi
Love’s Twisted Knot by Delta James
Enemies to Lovers
Billionaire
Alphahole
Grumpy/Sunshine
Second Chance
One Night Stand
Love Against All Odds
Excerpt from Love’s Twist Knot
“Hello, Candace,” he says, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. I can feel it wash over me—just the way it used to. I loved his voice. The man could have read a dictionary, and he would have had my rapt attention.
“Long time, no see,” he continues, unperturbed by my silence. “You’ve been busy. Sapphire Development, right? You’ve had some success, but not in Christmas Valley. I hear you’re planning to turn my family’s vineyard into a resort.”
I stab at another piece of steak, my grip on the fork tightening. My heart thunders in my chest, but I keep my face impassive, my expression cool. Let him talk. Let him say whatever he wants. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“You know, I didn’t think resorts were your thing,” he adds, leaning a hand against the edge of the booth. “But I guess people change.”
“Still not talking to me?” he asks, his tone light, teasing, as though this is a game to him. “That’s fine. I’ve got time. I’ll just keep guessing. Let’s see… maybe this isn’t about the vineyard at all. Maybe it’s about me?”
That one lands like a blow, and I grip my fork harder, the metal biting into my palm. My pulse quickens, my skin heating with the anger I’m desperately trying to suppress. Of course, he thinks this is about him. It always comes back to him.
The fork in my hand clinks against the plate, my movements growing more forceful as his words sink in. My thoughts spiral, unbidden, to the reasons I’m here—the heartbreak, the humiliation, the years of rebuilding myself after he walked away. The memories crash over me, sharp and cutting, and my resolve starts to crack.
He doesn’t stop. “You know, I’ve been thinking… maybe this isn’t about revenge. Maybe it’s about closure. Is that it, Candace? You need closure? I was hoping we’d get that the last time you visited the club. It’s been a while since you’ve been to Leathers.”
I freeze, my hand gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turn white. The heat rising in my chest boils over, spilling into my veins like fire. Every word he says chips away at my restraint, his tone so calm, so maddeningly confident, as though he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
And maybe he does.
“Nothing to say?” he presses, straightening slightly. “I guess that’s fine. I’ve always been better at doing the talking.”
That’s it. That’s the push too far.
I stand abruptly, the sudden motion knocking the table slightly and rattling my plate. My purse is in my hand before I realize I’ve reached for it, and I drop a fifty onto the table with shaking fingers. My resolve hardens with every passing second. No more games. No more letting him or any Murphy push me around.
Picking up my scotch, I look at him for the first time since he came over, my glare sharp enough to cut glass. His smarmy smile falters slightly, and for one satisfying second, I let him see the fire burning behind my eyes.
Then I throw the scotch in his face.
The liquid splashes, dripping from his jaw as he recoils in surprise. A stunned silence falls over Jumpin’ Jacks, the quiet so heavy I can hear my own breath.
I don’t wait for his reaction. I push past him, out of the booth, turning on my heel and walking out, my steps quick and deliberate. The door jingles behind me as I leave, but I don’t look back.
Outside, the night air is cool against my flushed skin, and I take a deep breath, steadying the wild storm of emotions coursing through me. He doesn’t get to win. Not this time.
I’m done playing nice, and this time he is not going to win.
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