Tag: #authorbio

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Husband Material by Emily Belden

Hi, everyone!

I am very excited to be included on the Harlequin Romance/Women’s Fiction Blog Tour 2020! This Feature Post and Book Review is for Emily Belden’s new standalone Women’s Fiction release HUSBAND MATERIAL.

Below you will find an author Q&A with Emily Belden, an excerpt from the book, my book review, a book summary and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

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Author Q&A with Emily Belden

Q: When you begin writing a love story, do you know how you want it to end? Or do you decide as you develop the plot?

A: I generally have an idea of how I want things to wrap up, but what I always struggle with is that final sentence. How do you know you’re REALLY there? I often ready my theoretical last sentence out loud, followed by saying “The End”, and if it feels like it has a certain “ring” to it, then I can shut the laptop. If not, then I know it’s not my stopping point. Wrapping up that final thought with a bow on it is super important. It’s what I want when I read a book, at least.

Q: How was it to write about grief, pain and love for the same character?

A: It was new. That’s really the best word to explain it. HOT MESS has so many autobiographical elements to it (i.e., restaurant industry know-how, dating an addict, etc.) but HUSBAND MATERIAL was all unchartered territory for me. I realized right away that in order to write about the grief of losing a spouse/partner, I had to curate a focus group of real-life women like Charlotte and really learn from them to bring the level of authenticity and nuance needed to successfully write the book.

Q: What type of love stories do you like? Or were there ones you looked to as you began writing Husband Material?

A: I like really unexpected love stories. In today’s literary landscape, there’s certainly a formula that is pretty common. So it’s the books that break or stray from that formula that really do it for me. I like stories where it’s not innately clear who the protagonist is going to end up with. Even with HOT MESS there’s a moment where (I hope) the reader is like “OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING” insofar as Allie’s love story goes. Same with Charlotte in HUSBAND MATERIAL.

Q: Do you prefer to write by planning ahead (ie outlining, etc) or just go with the flow as inspiration hits?

A: I prefer to go with the flow. My general writing pattern is banging out 1-2 chapters at a time and then ending my work with a bulleted list of what I think needs to happen next. That way, when I open up my laptop and start to write the next 1-2 chapters, I’m not totally lost or forgetful of where I left off. It helps me figure out what would make sense in the flow of the pages.

Q: When did you know you wanted to become an author? What are you currently reading and what’s on your TBR list?

A: It’s been my only god-given talent since I was a little kid. It started with really creative letters to Santa or the Tooth Fairy. I won a contest to be a kid reporter for the Chicago Tribune when I was 12 years old and after that, my fate was sealed. I knew I wanted to write at the highest level I could! I am currently reading a book called Lulu’s Cafe by an author who is also repped by my agents, Browne & Miller. I really love it and can picture it as an adorable Hallmark Movie. 

Q: What inspired you to write this book?

A: I heard a news story on the TV when I was doing dishes at my (former) home in San Diego. It was about a developer who wanted to buy the land a mausoleum was on so they could tear it down and build luxury condos overlooking the ocean. I thought, how crazy if your loved one’s ashes just got mailed back to you one day and the resting place you thought was final, wasn’t. It wasn’t easy, but turned that general premise into a light-side-of-heavy rom-com.

Q: What theme or message do you hope readers will take away from your book?

A: Over all, that second chances at love take all different forms. You never know the circumstances someone has found themselves in, so be kind. For Charlotte, I intentionally wrote the first few chapters as if she was divorced–talking about her “first marriage”. Then you find out “Oh, sh*t, she’s a widow,” and all the sudden your emotional connection with her changes. I also find it interesting writing about death. We don’t talk about it in society, especially not in contemporary women’s fiction. A tragic, unexpected death is the crux of this book. Let’s dig in!

Q: What drew you into this particular genre?

A: I saw there was room to carve out a spot for someone like me who writes unexpected, voicey, edgy, authentic women’s fiction and so I went full steam ahead with the help of a great agent to make it happen.

Q: If you could sit down with any character in your book, what would you ask them and why?

A: I would sit down with Charlotte. I’ve met the “real life” versions of her when doing my focus groups for research, it would be my honor to meet her. I’d ask her if she wanted to team up and develop a dating app framed around people’s dogs. 

Q: What advice would you give to aspiring or just starting authors out there?

A: Be patient. Be patient with the process – success as an author is fluid and can mean many different things. Nothing happens overnight. It’s a process. And be patient with yourself. If you aren’t vibing your writing, don’t put pressure on yourself to tap keys just because you said you were going to do 1,000 words tonight. There are times two weeks go by and I haven’t opened my Word doc once. But then when I am vibing it, I can cruise for 10K words and absolutely rock it. There’s an ebb and flow, for sure.

Q: What does the future hold in store for you? Any new books/projects on the horizon?

A: I am working on a third novel at my own pace right now. I’m very excited about it and just exploring where the plot takes me. I would love to work on a film/TV/podcast adaption of any of my existing works as a next step, too. I also got married nine months ago and am enjoying life with my soulmate, Matt.

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Excerpt

Well, that’s a first.

And I’m not talking about the fact that I brought a date to a wedding I’m pretty sure didn’t warrant me a plus-one. I’m talking about grabbing a wedding card that just so happened to say “Congrats, Mr. & Mr.” on my way to celebrate the nuptials of the most iconic heterosexual couple since George and Amal. This—and a king-sized KitKat bar from the checkout lane—is what I get for rushing through the greeting card aisle in Target while my Uber driver waited in the loading zone with his f lashers on.

It’s Monica and Danny’s big day. She’s my coworker, whose gorgeous face is constantly lining the glossy pages of Luxe LA magazine. Not only because she’s one of the leading ladies at Forbes’s new favorite company, The Influencer Firm, but because this socialite-turned-CEO is now married to Daniel Jones—head coach of the LA Galaxy, Los Angeles’s professional soccer team. If you’re thinking he must look like a derivative of an American David Beckham, you’re basically there. Let’s just hope their sense of humor is as good as their looks when they see the card I accidentally picked out.

Before I place it on the gift table, I stuff the envelope with a crisp hundred-dollar bill fresh from the ATM. Side note: I think wedding registries are bullshit. Everybody wants an ice cream maker until you have one and never use it, which is why I spring for cold, hard cash instead. I grab a black Sharpie marker from the guest book table, pop the cap off, and attempt to squeeze in a nondescript s after the second “Mr.,” hoping my makeshift, hand-drawn serif font letter doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb. I blow on the fresh ink, then hold the pseudo Pinterest-fail an arm’s length away. That’ll do, I think to myself.

I lift a glass of red wine from a caterer’s tray as if we choreographed the move and check the time on my Apple Watch, which arguably isn’t the most fashionable accessory when dressing for a chic summer wedding. But aside from the fact that it doesn’t quite match my strapless pale yellow cocktail dress, it serves a much greater purpose for me. It keeps my data front and center, right where I want it, not on my phone buried somewhere deep in my purse. Bonus: the band, smack-dab on the middle of my wrist, also covers a tattoo I’ve been meaning to have lasered off.

Other than telling me the time, 7:30 p.m., it also serves up my most recent Tinder notifications. I’ve gotten four new matches since this morning, which isn’t bad for a) a Saturday, since most people do their Tindering while zoning out at work or bored in bed at night; and b) a pushing-thirty New York native whose most recent relationship was the love-hate one with a stubborn last ten pounds. That’s me, by the way. Charlotte Rosen.

Though present and accounted for now, the battle of Tide pen vs. toothpaste stain went on for longer than I intended back at my apartment, causing me to arrive about half an hour late to the cocktail hour. Which means I for sure missed Monica and Dan’s ceremony in its entirety. I, of all people, know that’s rude. I’m someone who is hypersensitive to people’s arrival tendencies (well, to all measurable tendencies, to be honest; more on that later). But I’m sort of glad I missed the I Dos, as there is still something about witnessing the exchange of vows that makes me a little squeamish. I got married five years ago and, well, I’m not married anymore—let’s put it that way.

The good news is that with time, I can feel it’s definitely getting easier to come to things like this. To believe that the couple really will stay together through it all. To believe that there is such a thing as “the one”—even if it may actually be “the other” that I’m looking for this next go-round.

Late as I may be to the wedding party, there are some perks to my delayed arrival. Namely, the line at the bar has died down enough for me to trade up this mediocre red wine for a decent gin and tonic. Another perk? Several fresh platters of bacon-wrapped dates have just descended like UFOs onto the main floor of the venue, which happens to be a barn from the 1800s. Except this is Los Angeles, and there are no barns from the 1800s. So instead, every creaky floorboard, every corroded piece of siding, and every decrepit roof shingle has been sourced from deep in the countryside of southwest Iowa to create the sense that guests are surrounded by rolling fields, fragrant orchard blossoms, and fruiting trees. The reality being that just outside the wooden walls of the coveted, three-year-long-wait-list Oak Mill Barn stands honking, gridlocked traffic on the 405 and an accompanying smog alert.

As I continue to wait for my impromptu wedding date, Chad, to come back from the bathroom, I robotically swipe left on the first three guys who pop up on Bumble, another dating app I’m on, then finally decide to message a guy who looks like a bright-eyed Jason Bateman (you know, pre-Ozark) and is a stockbroker, according to his profile. We end up matching and he asks me for drinks. I vaguely accept. Welcome to dating in LA.

I’ve conducted some research that has shown that after the age of thirty, it becomes exponentially harder to find your future husband. What number constitutes exponentially? I’m not sure yet, but I’m working on narrowing in on that because generalities don’t really cut it for me. Thinking through things logically like this centers me, calms me, and resets me—no matter what life throws my way. All that’s to say, I’m officially in my last good year of dating (and my last year of not having to include a night serum in my skin care regimen), and I’m determined not to wind up with my dog, my roommate, and a few low-maintenance houseplants as my sole life partners.

“Sorry that took so long,” says Chad, returning from the men’s room twenty minutes after leaving. “Did you know the bathroom at this place is an actual outhouse? Thank god it was leg day at the gym—I had to squat over the pot. My quads are burning nice now.”

Confession. I didn’t just bring a date to the wedding, I brought a blind date.

No worries, though. Monica knows how serious I am about the path to Mr. Right and supports the fact that I go on my fair share of dates to get me there quicker. Plus, he isn’t a total stranger; she knows him—or, she met him, rather. He attended her work event last week at the LA County Museum of Art and is supposedly this cute, single real estate something or other. Of course he tried to hit on her and, unlike most beautiful people in Los Angeles, Monica actually copped to being in a committed relationship with Danny. (Who doesn’t like to brag they’re marrying Mr. Galaxy himself?) So she did the next best thing and gave him her single coworker’s Instagram handle and told him to slide into my DMs. It’s a bold move on her part, but I appreciate her quick thinking and commitment to my cause, Operation: Reclassify My Marital Status.

Since Chad first messaged me a week ago, I’ve done my homework on him. And I’m not talking about just your basic cyber stalking. I’m talking about procuring and sifting through real, bona fide data. It’s essentially a version of what I’m paid to do for a living—track down all the “influencers,” people with a lot of fans and followers on the internet, and match them to events we plan for our clients so they can post on social media and boost our clients’ profiles.

Some may think my side-project software, the one that computes how much of a match I am with someone, is a bit…much, but I don’t see it that way at all. I’m on the hunt for a man who is a true match for me—one who won’t just up and leave in the blink of an eye. I left things up to fate once and look how that turned out. I’ll be damned if I do it that way again.

While I studied up on Chad, I conducted a hefty “image search,” yielding about a hundred photos of him that have been uploaded across a variety of social platforms over the years. In real life, I’m pleased to say he checks out. Chad is over six feet tall, tanned, and toned, with coiffed Zac Efron hair that’s on the verge of being described as “a bit extra.” From the shoulders up, he’s an emoji. A walking, talking emoji. But as I step back and admire him in his expertly tailored suit, he looks like a contestant on The Bachelor. In retrospect, Chad is just the right amount of good-looking to complement my physical appearance, which can be described as a made-for-TV version of an otherwise good-looking actress.

“Something to drink, sir?” one of the caterers asks Chad.

“Yes. A spicy margarita. Unless… Wait. Do you make the margarita mix yourselves? Or is it, like, that sugary store-bought crap?”

Eek. I had forgotten my discovery that Chad is a bit of a…wellness guru. I guess so is everyone in LA, but I can’t help but be taken aback when I hear that there are people who actually care about the scientific makeup of margarita mix.

“Fuck it. Too many calories either way,” Chad announces before giving the waitress a chance to answer his question. “I’ll just take a whiskey.”

“Splash of Coke?”

“God, no. So many empty calories.”

With his drink order in, Chad rolls his neck around and pops bones I never knew existed. Then, one by one, the joints in his fingers. The sound makes me a bit queasy but I’m trying to focus on the positive, like his beautiful hazel eyes and the fact that cherry tomatoes and mini mozzarella balls with an injection of balsamic vinegar are the latest and greatest munchie to hit the floor.

Chad turns to me with a smile, his palm connecting with the small of my back. “Should we find our seats? What table are we at?”

Good question, I think to myself. I’m at table six. Chad is…on a fold-up chair we will have to ask a caterer to squeeze between me and Monica’s great-aunt Sally? I kind of forgot to mention to him that I didn’t really get an official okay to bring him tonight.

“Table six,” I say pleasantly with a smile.

“Six is my lucky number. Well, that, and nine, if you know what I mean,” Chad says with a wink accompanied by an actual thumbs-up.

The waitress comes back with his whiskey neat, and he proposes we clink our glasses in a toast to meeting up as we make our way to the table. Still not over the lingering effects of his immature, pervy sixty-nine joke, I reluctantly concede to do the cheers with the perpetual high-schooler.

“So, what did you think of Monica’s event?” I say to break the ice as we take our seats at the luckily empty round table.

“Well, I don’t really know what she does for a living, but she is fine as hell. I mean, that’s why I hit on her last week at the LACMA. Sure, I saw the ring on her finger, but couldn’t resist saying hi to a goddess like her. My god, that woman is something else.”

I nod in agreement. Partly because, yes, Monica Hoang needs her own beauty column in Marie Claire, stat. And partly because I’m too shocked by his crass demeanor to really do or say anything else. Did I say Chad reminded me of a contestant on The Bachelor? I think I meant he reminds me of a guy who gets sent home on night one of The Bachelor.

“She said you’re a real estate…attorney, was it?” I awkwardly segue. “What’s your favorite neighborhood in Los Angeles?”

It sounds like I’m interviewing him for a job, which in a way, I am. But had I known the conversation was going to be like forcefully wringing out a damp rag, just hoping to squeeze out something semidecent, I would have never invited him to join me at the wedding. In fact, I likely wouldn’t have gone through with a date, of any kind, at all. Conversation skills rank high on my list of preferred qualities in a mate. Looks like he’s the exception to the rule that attorneys are good linguists, because my app sure as shit didn’t predict this fail.

So how does my software work, then? Well, it’s all about compatibility. My algorithm is programmed to know what I like and what I’m looking for in the long term. So to see if a guy is a match, I comb through his online profiles, enter the facts I find out about him, and generate a report that indicates how likely he is to be my future husband or how likely we would be to get a divorce, for example. One of the most helpful stats is how likely we are to go on a second date. I’ve determined that anyone scoring above 70 percent means that chances are good we’d go out again. And, well, a second date is the first step to marriage. You get the point. Anyone below a 70, I ignore and move on. Chad pulled a 74, which is a solid C if you’re using a high school grading system. Not stellar, but certainly passable with room for improvement.

As it’s turning out, there’s a lot of room for improvement.

Excerpted from Husband Material by Emily Belden, Copyright © 2019 by Emily Belden. Published by Graydon House Books.

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

HUSBAND MATERIAL by Emily Belden is a contemporary women’s fiction story with elements of rom-con and romance genres included. This is a standalone book that deals with a young widow and how she deals with her life and those around her.

Five years after the death of her husband, Charlotte Rosen opens a box that contains the urn and ashes of her late husband who she thought was in a mausoleum in Pala, California. Suddenly, all her work at avoiding those who knew of her marriage and rebuilding her life based on mathematical algorithms is in jeopardy.

The return of Decker’s ashes and a secret to be revealed about his past are going to force Charlotte out of her controlled bubble of simple acquaintances, algorithms over emotions and her unresolved grief.

Charlotte took me on an unexpected journey. There were times Charlotte really annoyed me and yet the author had a way of revealing through another character or discovery, why she was the way she was. The whole situation of reading about being a widow at such a young age could feel uncomfortable and did at times, but I feel Ms. Belden handled Charlotte’s journey with empathy, humor, forgiveness and love. The secondary cast of characters in this story all start out on the periphery of Charlotte’s emotional life, but Ms. Belden does a beautiful job of one-by-one showing Charlotte why and how they should be let in even when her algorithms disagree.

I enjoyed Charlotte’s journey and Ms. Belden’s writing style, but I also know this is going to be one of those books that everyone reads through a differing emotional lens.

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Husband Material : A Novel 

Emily Belden

On Sale Date: December 30, 2019

9781525805981, 1525805983

Trade Paperback

$15.99 USD, $19.99 CAD

Fiction / Romance / Romantic Comedy 

304 pages

Summary

Told in Emily Belden’s signature edgy voice, a novel about a young widow’s discovery of her late husband’s secret and her journey toward hope and second-chance love.

Twenty-nine-year-old Charlotte Rosen has a secret: she’s a widow. Ever since the fateful day that leveled her world, Charlotte has worked hard to move forward. Great job at a hot social media analytics company? Check. Roommate with no knowledge of her past? Check. Adorable dog? Check. All the while, she’s faithfully data-crunched her way through life, calculating the probability of risk—so she can avoid it.

Yet Charlotte’s algorithms could never have predicted that her late husband’s ashes would land squarely on her doorstep five years later. Stunned but determined, Charlotte sets out to find meaning in this sudden twist of fate, even if that includes facing her perfectly coiffed, and perfectly difficult, ex-mother-in-law—and her husband’s best friend, who seems to become a fixture at her side whether she likes it or not.

But soon a shocking secret surfaces, forcing Charlotte to answer questions she never knew to ask and to consider the possibility of forgiveness. And when a chance at new love arises, she’ll have to decide once and for all whether to follow the numbers or trust her heart.

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Advance Praise for Husband Material

“Tackling thorny questions of widowhood and dating after trauma, Belden’s second novel is witty, full of heart, and blindingly au courant. Packed with pop-culture references, it will appeal to fans of Sophie Kinsella, Rosie Walsh, and Plum Sykes. Belden writes twists and turns to keep readers hooked.” —Booklist

“Charming.” —Publishers Weekly

“Sensitive, thoughtful, and touching.” —Library Journal

“In this touching, witty, and timely book, Emily Belden deftly explores the complexities of human relationships in our increasingly tech-obsessed world. By turns heartbreaking and laugh-out-loud funny, Husband Material beautifully demonstrates that you can’t reduce love to a bunch of 1s and 0s.”—Kristin Rockaway, author of How To Hack a Heartbreak

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Author Bio

EMILY BELDEN is a journalist, social media marketer, and storyteller. She is the author of the novel Hot Mess and Eightysixed: A Memoir about Unforgettable Men, Mistakes, and Meals. She lives in Chicago. Visit her website at www.emilybelden.com or follow her on Twitter and Instagram, @emilybelden.

Social Media Links

Author website: http://www.emilybelden.com/

Twitter: @emilybelden

Instagram: @emilybelden

Facebook: @emilybeldenauthor

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Buy Links

Harlequin: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781525805981_husband-material.html

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Husband-Material-Emily-Belden/dp/1525805983

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/husband-material-emily-belden/1129908343?ean=9781525805981#/

Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781525805981

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/husband-material-12

Google Books: https://books.google.com/books/about/Husband_Material.html?id=0sR6DwAAQBAJ





Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Good Girls Lie by J.T. Ellison

Hi, everyone!

I am very excited to be sharing on the Harlequin Mystery/Thriller Blog Tour 2020! This Feature Post and Book Review is for J.T. Ellison’s new standalone thriller GOOD GIRLS LIE. I could not put this thriller down!

Below you will find an author Q&A with J.T. Ellison, an excerpt from the book, my book review, a book summary and the author’s bio and social media links.

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Author Q&A with J.T. Ellison

• Do you plan your books in advance or let them develop as you write?

Both. Sometimes the story just unfolds, and sometimes I have to relentlessly work on themes and turning points and characters’ points of view. Every book is different, every book has its own unique challenges. I’m always thinking about what’s next, and sometimes even what’s after that. But when it comes to actually sitting down to write, I like to let the story unfold a bit, let it stretch its wings, before I try to lash it to the mast and conform it to my vision.

• What does the act of writing mean to you?

It’s a sacred contract with me and a mythical “someone” who might read the words at some point in the future and find them entertaining or moving. It’s sheer magic on my end, creating, and sheer magic on the readers’ end, when they get to experience what was in my head as I was writing. It’s the most incredible mystical experience out there.

• Have you ever had a character take over a story, and if so, who was it and why?

All the time. Oh my gosh, all the time. Honestly, if the character doesn’t run away with things, I know there’s a problem. Ivy, n LIE TO ME, is a particular favorite. She’s just so nasty…

• Which one of Good Girls Lie’s characters was the hardest to write and why?

Ash, for sure. She was so elusive and aloof with me. The Britishisms, the secrets, the lies, she was always just out of reach. Of course, that was because I’d written her in third person. When I switched her to first, she wouldn’t shut up. 

• Which character in any of your books (Good Girls Lie or otherwise) is dearest to you and why?

Oh that’s an impossible question. Taylor. Sam. Sutton. Vivian. Ash. Aubrey. Ivy. Juliet. Lauren. Becca. Gavin. Baldwin. Xander. They are all me, on some level, whether it’s a fear or a triumph, a flaw or a heroic action. A moment of love or a moment of animosity. It’s like asking me to choose among my children, which one is my favorite. (I don’t have kids, by the way, but I couldn’t pick my favorite of my kittens, either.)

• What did you want to be as a child? Was it an author?

I desperately wanted to be Colorado’s first female firefighter. When that job was taken, I cast about. Doctor. Lawyer. Fighter Pilot. Spy. International business maven. Olympic swimmer. Poet. In the end, being a writer was my only choice. That way, I get to experience all the lives I could have led.

• What does a day in the life of J.T. Ellison look like?

It’s rather blissful. It starts rather lazily, with the cats cuddled into my arms and the newspaper on my iPad, then progresses to kicking the lazy beasts out, pouring a cup of tea and handling email. I am not a morning person, so I tend to do business in the morning and writing in the afternoon, when I’m sharper. I’ve always wanted to be the writer who gets up at 5 am to write whilst the birds chirp and the house sleeps, watching the sun rise and running five miles before the rest of the world is awake, but alas, it was not meant to be. You need to go to a concert that starts at ten p.m., I’m your girl. 

• What do you use to inspire you when you get Writer’s Block?

It depends. If it’s a genuine block, a I’ve lost faith in myself and my work block, I will step away from the manuscript entirely, read, walk, golf, yoga, go out for margaritas with my husband, anything to remove me from the situation. But 90 percent of the time, it’s just a story issue, so I work it out with some of my creative partners. Lots of texting and phone calls and what ifs, until it shakes itself free. 

• What book would you take with you to a desert island?

Hmmm… my knee jerk is the Harry Potter series – I know, I know, that’s seven books, but I’m sure there’s an omnibus edition somewhere. The fight for good and evil never ceases to amaze and comfort me. Knowing love conquers evil is a big deal in this world. And Hermione kicks ass. If I’m forced into a single title, Plato’s Republic. I’ve been obsessed with the allegory of the cave my entire adult life. 

• Favorite quote?

“Do. Or Do not. There is no try.” – Master Yoda

• Do you have stories on the back burner that are just waiting to be written?

So. Many. Stories. I will never get to them all. At last count, there are 49 in my “Story Idea” folder, with several more floating around in my head. 

• What has been the hardest thing about publishing? What has been the most fun?

The hardest is staying in the game, juggling the necessary mix of creativity and business, finding new paths to reach readers and leveling up the writing so it’s possible to grow my career. It was much easier to write, to focus, before our constant connections to the internet consumed us. The most fun is that email from a reader, when something I’ve written strikes a chord with them and they write to tell me they love a story, or a character, or an ending. It doesn’t get better than that. 

• What advice would you give budding authors about publishing?

Stay as much in a vacuum as you can while writing. You don’t need a platform, you need an excellent, groundbreaking book. And read everything. Everything you can get your hands on. You learn writing through osmosis as much as writing the books themselves. Find your writing habit and hold it sacred. If you respect your work, your people will, too.

• What was the last thing you read?

I just finished Holly Black’s THE QUEEN OF NOTHING, the finale of her Folk of the Air trilogy, and just finished listening to BAG OF BONES by Stephen King. Both were exceptional.

• Tell us about what you’re working on now.

 I’m writing a novel about a destination wedding that goes very, very wrong. It has loose ties to Rebecca, and it titled HER DARK LIES.

***

Excerpt

Chapter 1

THE HANGING

The girl’s body dangles from the tall iron gates guarding the school’s entrance. A closer examination shows the ends of a red silk tie peeking out like a cardinal on a winter branch, forcing her neck into a brutal angle. She wears her graduation robe and multicolored stole as if knowing she’ll never see the achievement. It rained overnight and the thin robe clings to her body, dew sparkling on the edges. The last tendrils of dawn’s fog laze about her legs, which are five feet from the ground. 

There is no breeze, no birds singing or squirrels industriously gathering for the long winter ahead, no cars passing along the street, only the cool, misty morning air and the gentle metallic creaking of the gates under the weight of the dead girl. She is suspended in midair, her back to the street, her face hidden behind a curtain of dirty, wet hair, dark from the rains. 

Because of the damage to her face, it will take them some time to officially identify her. In the beginning, it isn’t even clear she attends the school, despite wearing The Goode School robes. 

But she does. 

The fingerprints will prove it. Of course, there are a few people who know exactly who is hanging from the school’s gates. Know who, and know why. But they will never tell. As word spreads of the apparent suicide, The Goode School’s all-female student body begin to gather, paying silent, terrified homage to their fallen compatriot. The gates are closed and locked—as they always are overnight—buttressed on either side by an ivy-covered, ten-foot-high, redbrick wall, but it tapers off into a knee-wall near the back entrance to the school parking lot, and so is escapable by foot. The girls of Goode silently filter out from the dorms, around the end of Old West Hall and Old East Hall to Front Street—the main street of Marchburg, the small Virginia town housing the elite prep school—and take up their positions in front of the gate in a wedge of crying, scared, worried young women who glance over shoulders looking for the one who is missing from their ranks. To reassure themselves this isn’t their friend, their sister, their roommate. 

Another girl joins them, but no one notices she comes from the opposite direction, from town. She was not behind the redbrick wall. 

Whispers rise from the small crowd, nothing loud enough to be overheard but forming a single question. 

Who is it? Who? 

A solitary siren pierces the morning air, the sound bleeding upward from the bottom of the hill, a rising crescendo. Someone has called the sheriff. 

Goode perches like a gargoyle above the city’s small downtown, huddles behind its ivy-covered brick wall. The campus is flanked by two blocks of restaurants, bars, and necessary shops. The school’s buildings are tied together with trolleys—enclosed glass-and-wood bridges that make it easy for the girls to move from building to building in climate-controlled comfort. It is quiet, dignified, isolated. As are the girls who attend the school; serious, studious. Good. Goode girls are always good. They go on to great things. 

The headmistress, or dean, as she prefers to call herself, Ford Julianne Westhaven, great-granddaughter several times removed from the founder of The Goode School, arrives in a flurry, her driver, Rumi, braking the family Bentley with a screech one hundred feet away from the gates. The crowd in the street blocks the car and, for a moment, the sight of the dangling girl. No one stops to think about why the dean might be off campus this early in the morning. Not yet, anyway. 

Dean Westhaven rushes out of the back of the dove-gray car and runs to the crowd, her face white, lips pressed firmly together, eyes roving. It is a look all the girls at Goode recognize and shrink from. 

The dean’s irritability is legendary, outweighed only by her kindness. It is said she alone approves every application to the school, that she chooses the Goode girls by hand for their intelligence, their character. Her say is final. Absolute. But for all her goodness, her compassion, her kindness, Dean Westhaven has a temper. 

She begins to gather the girls into groups, small knots of natural blondes and brunettes and redheads, no fantastical dye allowed. Some shiver in oversize school sweatshirts and running shorts, some are still in their pajamas. The dean is looking for the chick missing from her flock. She casts occasional glances over her shoulder at the grim scene behind her. She, too, is unsure of the identity of the body, or so it seems. Perhaps she simply doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. 

The siren grows to an earsplitting shriek and dies midrange, a soprano newly castrated. The deputies from the sheriff’s office have arrived, the sheriff hot on their heels. Within moments, they cordon off the gates, move the students back, away, away. One approaches the body, cataloging; another begins taking discreet photographs, a macabre paparazzi. 

They speak to Dean Westhaven, who quietly, breathlessly, admits she hasn’t approached the body and has no idea who it might be. 

She is lying, though. She knows. Of course, she knows. It was inevitable. 

The sheriff, six sturdy feet of muscle and sinew, approaches the gate and takes a few shots with his iPhone. He reaches for the foot of the dead girl and slowly, slowly turns her around. 

The eerie morning silence is broken by the words, soft and gasping, murmurs moving sinuously through the crowd of girls, their feet shuffling in the morning chill, the fog’s tendrils disappearing from around the posts. 

They say her name, an unbroken chain of accusation and misery. 

Ash. 

Ash.

Ash.

Chapter 2

THE LIES

There are truths, and there are lies, and then there is everything that really happened, which is where you and I will meet. My truth is your lie, and my lie is your truth, and there is a vast expanse between them. 

Take, for example, Ash Carlisle. 

Six feet tall, glowing skin, a sheaf of blond hair in a ponytail. She wears black jeans with rips in the knees and a loose greenand-white plaid button-down with white Adidas Stan Smiths; casual, efficient travel clothes. A waiter delivers a fresh cup of tea to her nest in the British Airways first-class lounge, and when she smiles her thanks, he nearly drops his tray—so pure and happy is that smile. The smile of an innocent. 

Or not so innocent? You’ll have to decide that for yourself. Soon. 

She’s perfected that smile, by the way. Practiced it. Stood in the dingy bathroom of the flat on Broad Street and watched herself in the mirror, lips pulling back from her teeth over and over and over again until it becomes natural, until her eyes sparkle and deep dimples appear in her cheeks. It is a full-toothed smile, her teeth straight and blindingly white, and when combined with the china-blue eyes and naturally streaked blond hair, it is devastating. 

Isn’t this what a sociopath does? Work on their camouflage? What better disguise is there than an open, thankful, gracious smile? It’s an exceptionally dangerous tool, in the right hands. 

And how does a young sociopath end up flying first class, you might ask? You’ll be assuming her family comes from money, naturally, but let me assure you, this isn’t the case. Not at all. Not really. Not anymore. 

No, the dean of the school sent the ticket.

Why? 

Because Ash Carlisle leads a charmed life, and somehow managed to hoodwink the dean into not only paying her way but paying for her studies this first term, as well. A full scholarship, based on her exemplary intellect, prodigy piano playing, and sudden, extraordinary need. Such a shame she lost her parents so unexpectedly. 

Yes, Ash is smart. Smart and beautiful and talented, and capable of murder. Don’t think for a moment she’s not. Don’t let her fool you. 

Sipping the tea, she types and thinks, stops to chew on a nail, then reads it again. The essay she is obsessing over gained her access to the prestigious, elite school she is shipping off to. The challenges ahead—transferring to a new school, especially one as impossible to get into as The Goode School—frighten her, excite her, make her more determined than ever to get away from Oxford, from her past. 

A new life. A new beginning. A new chapter for Ash. 

But can you ever escape your past? 

Ash sets down the tea, and I can tell she is worrying again about fitting in. Marchburg, Virginia—population five hundred on a normal summer day, which expands to seven hundred once the students arrive for term—is a long way from Oxford, England. She worries about fitting in with the daughters of the DC elite—daughters of senators and congressmen and ambassadors and reporters and the just plain filthy rich. She can rely on her looks—she knows how pretty she is, isn’t vain about it, exactly, but knows she’s more than acceptable on the looks scale—and on her intelligence, her exceptional smarts. Some would say cunning, but I think this is a disservice to her. She’s both booksmart and street-smart, the rarest of combinations. Despite her concerns, if she sticks to the story, she will fit in with no issues. 

The only strike against her, of course, is me, but no one knows about me. 

No one can ever know about me.

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

GOOD GIRLS LIE by J.T. Ellison is a standalone suspense/thriller that kept me turning the pages quickly until the very last page. I would think I knew what was going on and then, BAM, I was so wrong and another tiny reveal would send me off on another tangent.

The Goode School is a premier private boarding school for females only in the tiny town of Marchburg, Virginia. It is for the best, brightest, elite daughters of the rich and prestigious. All the girls are prepared for brilliant futures and all the girls must follow the school’s code of honor and never lie.

There is a new girl this year from Oxford in the sophomore class, Ash Carr. Recently orphaned, Ash is still being admitted by the dean, Dr. Ford Julianne Westhaven on scholarship as she waits for her settlement.  Ash learns many of the girls know how to pretend to follow the rules and secret societies add to the potential of tripping Ash up and her personal secret being discovered.

When a student is found dead, rumors spread and it becomes increasingly difficult to tell who is telling the truth and who is telling a lie. How far will girls from the Goode School go to hide their secrets?

This is a tightly plotted and fast-paced thriller that kept me guessing. I do not normally read YA books, but this has so many threads of murder, sex, hazing and secrets that I was just pulled into the story and kept forgetting how truly young the characters were. The characters are fully fleshed out and memorable as the story progresses and you learn their secrets. I loved the epilogue which was another great twist to the story.

I highly recommend this thriller and will be looking for more books by this author!

***

Good Girls Lie

Author: J.T. Ellison

ISBN: 9780778330776

Publication Date: 12/30/19

Publisher: MIRA Books

***

Book Summary

Book Summary:Perched atop a hill in the tiny town of Marchburg, Virginia, The Goode School is a prestigious prep school known as a Silent Ivy. The boarding school of choice for daughters of the rich and influential, it accepts only the best and the brightest. Its elite status, long-held traditions and honor code are ideal for preparing exceptional young women for brilliant futures at Ivy League universities and beyond. But a stranger has come to Goode, and this ivy has turned poisonous.

In a world where appearances are everything, as long as students pretend to follow the rules, no one questions the cruelties of the secret societies or the dubious behavior of the privileged young women who expect to get away with murder. But when a popular student is found dead, the truth cannot be ignored. Rumors suggest she was struggling with a secret that drove her to suicide.

But look closely…because there are truths and there are lies, and then there is everything that really happened.

J.T. Ellison’s pulse-pounding new novel examines the tenuous bonds of friendship, the power of lies and the desperate lengths people will go to to protect their secrets.

***

Author Bio and Social Media Links

J.T. Ellison is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than 20 novels, and the EMMY-award winning co-host of A WORD ON WORDS, Nashville’s premier literary show. With millions of books in print, her work has won critical acclaim, prestigious awards, and has been published in 26 countries. Ellison lives in Nashville with her husband and twin kittens.

Author Website

Twitter: @thrillerchick

Facebook: @JTEllison14

Instagram: @thrillerchick

Goodreads

BookBub

Buy Links 

Harlequin 

Indiebound

Amazon

Barnes & Noble 

Books-A-Million

Target

Google

iBooks

Kobo


Feature Post and Book Review: Regretting You by Colleen Hoover

Hi, everyone!

Today I am excited to share my Feature Post and Book Review for a new women’s fiction/contemporary romance from Colleen Hoover titled REGRETTING YOU.

Below you will find a Q&A with the author, an excerpt from the book, my book review, a book summary, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway for $100 gift card from Amazon. Good luck and enjoy!

***

Q&A with Author Colleen Hoover

You are ‘label-less’ in the fact that you write in several genres. Readers never know what to expect next. If someone asks, how do you label yourself?

When I self-published my first novel I had no idea what genre to put it in. I thought I had written a drama but it turns to that I had written a romance. I’ve learned a lot since then, but I still don’t put a lot of weight in genre when I write. When your best friend is begging you to read a book, it’s not going to matter what genre it is when someone you trust is passionate about the story.

To keep all of your stories and characters straight, you must be very organized.

I’m the most disorganized person you will ever meet! I have no schedule. I can’t wake up before nine in the morning. I probably don’t go to bed until like three in the morning. I usually work about 16 hours a day. 

What happens if you get blocked when you are writing? 

If I get stuck writing, I go for a drive and play music. Music really helps me plot. I love The Avett Brothers, X Ambassadors, Airborne Toxic Event…I could go on and on. 

What can you tell readers about your latest release Regretting You?

I would spoil it if I told you about it! Most of my books are like that. I can’t say what they are about or it spoils it. But I can say that Regretting You is told from a dual point-of-view centered on the inner lives of both a teen and adult protagonist.

Sounds like lots of different types of readers will be interested!

Absolutely. I wanted to write a book that bridged the gap between young adult and contemporary romance so that mothers can read with their daughters. I think it’s exciting to see people sharing reading experiences. 

***

Excerpt

Despite knowing I just pissed my mother off by being half an hour late for curfew, I still can’t stop smiling. That kiss with Miller was worth it. I bring my fingers to my lips. 

I’ve never been kissed like that. The guys I’ve kissed in the past all seemed like they were in a hurry, wanting to shove their tongue in my mouth before I changed my mind. 

Miller was the opposite. He was so patient, yet in a chaotic way. It was like he’d thought about kissing me so often that he wanted to savor every second of it. 

I don’t know that I’ll ever not smile when I think about that kiss. It kind of makes me nervous for school tomorrow. I’m not sure where that kiss leaves us, but it felt like it was a statement. I just don’t know what exactly that statement was. 

My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I roll over and pull it out, then fall onto my back again. It’s a text from Miller. 

Miller: I don’t know about you, but sometimes when something significant happens, I get home and think of all the things I wish had gone differently. All the things I wish I would have said. 

Me: Is that happening now? 

Miller: Yes. I don’t feel like I was entirely forthcoming with you. 

I roll onto my stomach, hoping to ease the nausea that just passed through me. It was going so well… 

Me: What weren’t you honest about? 

Miller: I was honest. Just not entirely forthcoming, if there’s a difference. I left a lot out of our conversation that I want you to know. 

Me: Like what? 

Miller: Like why I’ve liked you for as long as I have. 

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. I’m staring at my phone with so much intensity that I almost throw it when it rings unexpectedly. It’s Miller’s phone number. I hesitate before answering it, because I rarely ever talk on the phone. I much prefer texting. But he knows I have my phone in my hand, so I can’t very well send it to voice mail. I swipe my finger across the screen and then roll off the bed and head to my bathroom for more privacy. I sit on the edge of the tub. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Sorry. It’s too much to text.” 

“You’re kind of freaking me out with all the innuendos.” 

“Oh. No, it’s all good. Don’t be nervous. I just should have said this to you in person.” Miller inhales a deep breath, and then on the exhale, he starts talking. “When I was fifteen, I watched you in a school play. You had the lead role, and at one point, you performed a monologue that went on for like two whole minutes. You were so convincing and you looked so heartbroken I was ready to walk onto the stage and hug you. When the play was finally over and the actors came back out onto the stage, you were smiling and laughing, and there wasn’t a trace of that character left in you. I was in awe, Clara. You have this charisma about you that I don’t think you’re aware of, but it’s captivating. I was a scrawny kid as a sophomore, and even though I’m a year older than you, I hadn’t quite filled out yet, and I had acne and felt inferior to you, so I never worked up the courage to approach you. Another year went by, and I continued to admire you from afar. Like that time you ran for school treasurer and tripped walking off the stage, but you jumped up and did this weird little kick and threw your arms up in the air and made the entire audience laugh. Or that time Mark Avery popped your bra strap in the hallway, and you were so sick of him doing it that you followed him to his classroom, reached inside your hoodie, and took off your bra and then threw it at him. I remember you yelling something like, ‘If you want to touch a bra so damn bad, just keep it, you perv!’ Then you stormed out. It was epic. Everything you do is epic, Clara. Which is why I never had the courage to approach you, because an epic girl needs an equally epic guy, and I guess I’ve just never felt epic enough for you. I’ve said epic so many times in the last fifteen seconds—I’m so sorry.” 

He’s out of breath when he finally stops talking.

I’m smiling so hard my cheeks ache. I had no idea he felt this way. No idea. 

I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s done; then I finally respond. I’m pretty sure he can hear from my voice alone that I’m smiling. “First of all, it’s hard to believe you were ever insecure. And second, I think you’re pretty epic, too, Miller. Always have. Even when you were scrawny and had acne.” 

He laughs a little. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

I can hear him sigh. “Glad I got that off my chest, then. See you at school tomorrow?” 

“Good night.” 

We end the call, and I don’t know how long I sit and stare at my phone.

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

REGRETTING YOU by Colleen Hoover is a mash up of a story containing women’s fiction/mother-daughter drama and contemporary romance elements all written seamlessly into a book that I could not put down.

This book starts by giving you a glimpse of two young couples that consist of two sisters and two best friends.

Flash ahead seventeen years, and the four are back together until a tragic accident that shatters all of the people left behind. The mother/daughter relationship is one focus of this story and also the relationship of the daughter and her new boyfriend, but there are also long-lasting consequences for everyone around them.

I recommend you just get this book and start reading because any type of summary will give preconceived notions which will not even come close to the expectations and emotional upheaval you will experience yourself while reading this book. Even with all the heartbreak and anger, the author takes you on a journey of differing types of forgiveness and love.

This is definitely a book that will stay with you even after you finish the last word.

***

About the Book

Title: Regretting You

Author: Colleen Hoover

Release Date: December 10, 2019

Publisher: Montlake

Summary

Morgan Grant and her sixteen-year-old daughter, Clara, would like nothing more than to be nothing alike.

Morgan is determined to prevent her daughter from making the same mistakes she did. By getting pregnant and married way too young, Morgan put her own dreams on hold. Clara doesn’t want to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Her predictable mother doesn’t have a spontaneous bone in her body.

With warring personalities and conflicting goals, Morgan and Clara find it increasingly difficult to coexist. The only person who can bring peace to the household is Chris—Morgan’s husband, Clara’s father, and the family anchor. But that peace is shattered when Chris is involved in a tragic and questionable accident. The heartbreaking and long-lasting consequences will reach far beyond just Morgan and Clara.

While struggling to rebuild everything that crashed around them, Morgan finds comfort in the last person she expects to, and Clara turns to the one boy she’s been forbidden to see. With each passing day, new secrets, resentment, and misunderstandings make mother and daughter fall further apart. So far apart, it might be impossible for them to ever fall back together.

***

Author Biography

Colleen Hoover is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of several novels, including the bestselling women’s fiction novel It Ends with Us and the bestselling psychological thriller Verity. She has won the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Romance three years in a row—for Confess (2015), It Ends with Us (2016), and Without Merit (2017). Confess was adapted into a seven-episode online series. In 2015, Hoover and her family founded the Bookworm Box, a bookstore and monthly subscription service that offers signed novels donated by authors. All profits go to various charities each month to help those in need. Hoover lives in Texas with her husband and their three boys. Visit www.colleenhoover.com.

Social Media Links

Website: http://www.colleenhoover.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/colleenhoover

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5430144.Colleen_Hoover

***

Rafflecopter Giveaway

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Feature Post and Book Review: Never Enough by Kelly Elliot

Hi, everyone!

I am excited to be sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for Kelly Elliott’s new contemporary romance NEVER ENOUGH (Meet Me in Montana #1). This is a wonderful start to a new series.

Below you will find a Q&A with the author, an excerpt from the book, my book review, a book summary, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy and as always good luck on the Rafflecopter giveaway!

***

Q&A: Author Kelly Elliott

1) In just a few short years you have published dozens of books and climbed bestsellers lists. Tell us a bit about your crazy fast rise in the romance world? 


Honestly, it has been a dream come true! I sometimes feel like I have to pinch myself. I’m very humbled by the success I’ve been able to achieve and do not take a second of it for granted. I think one of my favorite things has been getting to meet so many amazing readers along this journey. 


2) You just started a new series with Never Enough. What can readers expect from these stories?

They can expect stores filled with love, hope, second chances, some tears, and also some laughter. Family and friends play a major role in each book and that is always important to me. My goal with each book is to give the reader a chance to escape reality for a bit while making them fall so in love with the characters they want to revisit them often! 


3) This series takes place in Montana with some seriously sexy heroes—bull riders, ropers, ranchers. What makes these Alpha men that work with their hands so irresistible?

Who doesn’t love a cowboy right!? I think it is their charm and ability to make us swoon that makes them so irresistible. Of course it helps I’m married to my own cowboy so he often inspires the heroes in my books!

4) To add a little something special to the mix, your first heroine, Lincoln, comes from Georgia and practically oozes southern charm (certainly enchanting your hero as she goes). What made you decide that this H/h would work so well?

In the very beginning I knew Lincoln had to be from somewhere other than Montana. Me being a southern girl myself, it felt right for her move from a southern state and I love Georgia. In the beginning of the book we find a very different Brock and I knew I had to have a strong heroine who knew who she was and what she wanted. She had no problem confronting Brock and I loved that about her. From the very beginning I knew these two were meant to be.

5) If Brock Shaw had a song dedicated to him, it would be Katy Perry’s Hot N Cold considering the fact that his emotions about Lincoln change with the breeze. This is mainly due to his past—tell us about his journey.

Oh Brock. He gave me a bit of whiplash in the beginning of this book. LOL! He is filled with so many different emotions, guilt, anger, regret, and when Lincoln comes into his life like she does you can almost feel his struggle. He wants to move on from the past, but he honestly doesn’t think he deserves to. He used his career to bury all these emotions for years and when he is confronted with them he is really confronted. I think Lincoln was the happiness he had always longed for and it didn’t take him long to realize that. But that realization came fear, which he had to overcome. 


6) Lincoln isn’t quite running away from home, but she certainly is running towards a new life. How does Brock, and his son Blayze, fit into her plans?

I don’t think Lincoln was looking for those two cowboys when she first started towards her new journey, but when they came into her world they both were piece of the puzzle she hadn’t even realized was missing. The three of them fit together so beautifully.  

7) At the center of this story is loss, but also redemption. Is this a theme that we will see going throughout your Meet Me in Montana books?

I think you will see the emotions kicked up a bit with each book in the series. Book two really focuses on healing and finding that one person who is your true love. Your soulmate. 

***

Excerpt

Betty Jane handed me a set of keys. “Here, these are his. Make sure he gets out of here and safely home.” 

My hand instinctively took the keys, and I sat there for a few moments, stunned. When I finally realized Betty Jane was putting me in charge of getting Brock home, I jumped up and followed her over to the bar.

“Wait! Ty said you would make sure Brock got to his truck and slept it off. He didn’t say anything about making sure he got home.” 

Betty Jane loaded up empty beer bottles onto her tray. It was then I looked around the bar and noticed it was almost empty. 

“What time is it?” I asked, reaching for my phone. “It’s almost one!” 

She laughed. “Yep, it’s been real fun watching you give dirty looks to Lee for the last hour. I figured I’d help a girl out and get rid of her for you.” 

When I looked back at the table, Brock had his head on it. 

Good grief. Is he sleeping? 

“What do you mean, get rid of her?” I asked, still trailing behind the waitress, who honestly looked to be just a few years older than me. 

She stopped and faced me. “I’ve been doing this job since I was eighteen. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that you’ve got a thing for our Brock. I can’t blame ya, really. He’s a looker. Those blue eyes and dimples. Not to mention the way the man can fill out a pair of Wranglers. Throw in he’s a professional bull rider and worth some money, and you’ve got yourself one sought-after cowboy. He doesn’t normally come in here and get drunk like this, so I’m going to guess he’s had a bad day and he’s trying to drink away his problems. 

“Now, the way I see it is, he seems to be smitten with you, and you’re smitten with him. So, it only makes sense that you get him home safely. What happens after that is your business, but just know that the rest of the town will most likely find out within seventy-two hours—unless you’re discreet about it.” 

I stood frozen in place. What in the world is this lady talking about? 

“Okay, I didn’t really understand half of that, but you’re very wrong on one thing. Brock Shaw is not . . . smitten . . . with me. It’s really the opposite. I don’t think he can stand me.” 

Betty Jane winked. “Ralph will help you get him out to his truck.” 

“But . . . I . . . my . . . I’m not . . . wait!” 

Placing her hand on her hip, she rolled her eyes. “Listen, I’ve got to finish cleaning up and then kick everyone out of here. Just spit it out, would ya?” 

“My car! I have my car here. I can’t leave it.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about it being left here. It’s perfectly fine.” 

She turned and walked away. When I called out for her again, she ignored me. 

I turned around and walked back over to the table to find a sleeping Brock. Burying my face in my hands, I mumbled, “Oh my God! Why me?” Poking his shoulder, I said, “Brock! Brock, wake up!” 

His head popped up, and I let out a little yelp. 

He turned to look at me, and instead of frowning, he smiled for once. “Hey, pretty little thing.” 

He’s so drunk he doesn’t even know who I am. 

“Um, hey. Listen, I need to get you home, so could you maybe stand and walk out to your truck?” 

Brock smiled bigger, and his dimples seemed to scream out at me. 

Oh. Holy. Hell. 

This guy was beyond good looking. I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever seen a guy smile and look so damn sexy, despite his highly intoxicated state. Even with his cowboy hat all crooked, he looked handsome as hell. 

“I can stand,” he grumbled out as he slowly stood. 

I slipped my arm around his waist. After doing a quick scan of the table, I reached behind me and felt for my phone. I had my license and credit card tucked into my phone case, and I had my keys in my pocket. 

“Okay, let’s get you to your truck.” 

His head dropped forward, and I was pretty sure he was falling back asleep. 

“Brock!” I shouted, making his head jerk up. “Walk to the door.” 

“What do you adore?” he asked, taking a few stumbling steps next to me as I guided him. 

I chuckled. “No, I said, walk to the door!” 

“I am walking to the door, woman!” 

With a roll of my eyes, I focused on keeping this man upright. It wasn’t an easy task. His stocky frame was heavy. With the way my arm was around him, I couldn’t help but notice his muscles flexing as we walked . . . no, stumbled along. I let my silly mind wander to what he would look like without a shirt on. 

Stop it right now, Lincoln Pratt! 

Betty Jane opened the door for us and winked at me yet again as I walked by. “Have a good night, and don’t worry about your car!” 

I mumbled under my breath about being set up and then stepped out into the cool night. A shiver ran up my spine as I searched the parking lot. I’d only seen Brock’s truck once, and the only thing I remembered was that it was silver. 

“Where’s your truck?” I asked, glancing at three trucks still parked in the lot. 

Brock lifted his head and looked around. “My truck is the best damn truck in the parking lot.” 

“That doesn’t help, Shaw. What’s your license plate number?” 

Brock turned, his big, drunk blue eyes gazing down at me. “You want my number, Lincoln? I thought you didn’t like me.” 

My mouth dropped open. “Um, excuse me, but you’re the one who’s been shooting daggers at me all night long. Not to mention how rude you were to me earlier today.” 

“You didn’t catch me at my best, sweetheart.” 

My stomach dipped at the endearment. No one had ever called me anything like that. Not baby, babe, sweetie, or sweetheart. I was always just Lincoln. Every guy I’d ever dated called me by my first name. Even in bed, I was always Lincoln. 

It pissed me off how much I liked hearing that come from Brock’s mouth. I liked it a lot . . . more than a lot. 

Damn it. What is it about this guy? 

“I didn’t ask you for your phone number, you drunk fool. Your license plate number on your truck.” 

He frowned. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know the license plate on your own truck?” 

“Nope!” he said, popping the p in the most adorable way. 

I found myself smiling up at him. 

“It’s the silver one on the far right!” Betty Jane called out. 

I looked behind me, almost losing my grip on Brock. “And I don’t suppose you’d help me get him there . . . or Ralph, maybe?” 

She laughed. She actually laughed before turning and walking back into the bar. 

“Thanks for nothing,” I grumbled as I guided Brock over to the truck.

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

NEVER ENOUGH (Meet Me in Montana #1) by Kelly Elliot is the start of a new contemporary cowboy romance series. Kelly Elliot is a new-to-me author who pulled me in with her writing style and I will be continuing to look for her name and series in the future.

Lincoln Pratt is one of the top interior designers in Atlanta, but she wants and needs a fresh start. She sold her company and is starting over in Hamilton, Montana. Lincoln and her best friend, Taylee drive across country to the new home she purchased from the mysterious Brock Shaw.

Brock Shaw is attempting to win the competitive bull riding championship for the third time. The money and endorsements will secure his future and allow him to raise his young son with no financial worries. But even as he misses raising his son himself, the travel that keeps him from home and the adrenaline of the rides let him forget even if for just a short time the pain and guilt of his wife’s death.

From the moment they meet, even with the strong physical attraction, Brock and Lincoln do not know whether they even like each other. Lincoln cannot resist Brock’s son, Blayze and is willing to open her heart to Brock, too even as he runs hot and cold. Brock wants Lincoln, but he is going to have to let the pain and guilt of the past go to finally find what he needs.

This romance ticked off all the things I love about this genre. A book that I can sit down with and fall into the story and lives of all the characters immediately. Also, a strong, but wounded hero, add cowboy and single dad, to reel me in and a strong heroine who stands up to and takes no bull from this bull rider, but wants to heal his heart. The sex scenes are smokin’ hot, but not gratuitous. All the family and secondary characters were fully fleshed and add depth to this story. I am looking forward to seeing them in future books in this series.

I can highly recommend this second chance contemporary cowboy romance. I am looking forward to more books in this series and by this author.

***

About The Book

Title: Never Enough

Author: Kelly Elliott

Release Date: December 10, 2019

Publisher: Montlake

Summary

Longing to forget the pain of his wife’s death, Brock Shaw has immersed himself in the one thing that lets him escape the guilt. Bull riding. But life on the road means leaving his young son at home with his parents. They want him to give up his career and be a father to his child, but Brock needs the adrenaline to get through each day . . . or so he thinks.


Lincoln Pratt needs a fresh start. As a top interior designer in Atlanta, she has everything she could ever want, but she’s always at her father’s mercy. Something’s missing, and Lincoln knows she’ll only find it somewhere far away—like the rolling pastures of Hamilton, Montana, where she meets the irresistibly mysterious Brock.


In Brock Shaw, Lincoln sees the part of her that’s missing. In Lincoln Pratt, Brock sees the part of himself he thought he’d lost. But the pain of his past binds him. Can he let himself love again?

***

Author Biography

Kelly Elliott is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author. Since finishing her bestselling Wanted series, Kelly has continued to spread her wings while remaining true to her roots with stories of hot men, strong women, and beautiful surroundings. Her bestselling works include Wanted, Broken, Without You, and Lost Love. Elliott has been passionate about writing since she was fifteen. After years of filling journals with stories, she finally followed her dream and published her first novel, Wanted, in November 2012.

Elliott lives in Central Texas with her husband, daughter, and two pups. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading and spending time with her family. She is down to earth and very in touch with her readers, both on social media and at signings. To learn more about Kelly and her books, you can find her through her website, www.kellyelliottauthor.com.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.kellyelliottauthor.com/ 

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/author_kelly

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6581091.Kelly_Elliott

***

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Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Coming Home for Christmas by RaeAnne Thayne

Hi, everyone!

I am very excited be included on the Harlequin Holiday Blog Tour 2020! This Feature Post and Book Review is for RaeAnne Thayne’s new Christmas contemporary romance COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS (Haven Point #10, The Women of Bramberry House #3).

Below you will find an excerpt from the book, a book summary, my book review and the author’s bio and social media links. This is my favorite Christmas book this season!

***

Excerpt

Chapter One 

This was it. 

Luke Hamilton waited outside the big, rambling Victorian house in a little coastal town in Oregon, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat against the wet slap of air and nerves churning through him. 

Elizabeth was here. After all the years when he had been certain she was dead—that she had wandered into the mountains somewhere that cold day seven years earlier or she had somehow walked into the deep, unforgiving waters of Lake Haven—he was going to see her again. 

Though he had been given months to wrap his head around the idea that his wife wasn’t dead, that she was indeed living under another name in this town by the sea, it still didn’t seem real. 

How was he supposed to feel in this moment? He had no idea. He only knew he was filled with a crazy mix of anticipation, fear and the low fury that had been simmering inside 

him for months, since the moment FBI agent Elliot Bailey had produced a piece of paper with a name and an address.

Luke still couldn’t quite believe she was in there, the wife he had not seen in seven years. The wife who had disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving plenty of people to speculate that he had somehow hurt her, even killed her.

For all those days and months and years, he had lived with the ghost of Elizabeth Sinclair and the love they had once shared.

He was never nervous, damn it. So why did his skin itch and his stomach seethe and his hands grip the cold metal of the porch railing as if his suddenly weak knees would give way and make him topple over if he let go?

A moment later, he sensed movement inside the foyer of the house. The woman he had spoken with when he had first pulled up to this address, the woman who had been hanging Christmas lights around the big, charming home and who had looked at him with such suspicion and had not invited him to wait inside, opened the door. One hand was thrust into her coat pocket around a questionable-looking bulge.

She was either concealing a handgun or a Taser or pepper spray. Since he had never met the woman before, Luke couldn’t begin to guess which. Her features had lost none of that alert wariness that told him she would do whatever necessary to protect Elizabeth.

He wanted to tell her he would never hurt his wife, but it was a refrain he had grown tired of repeating. Over the years, he had become inured to people’s opinions on the matter. Let them think what the hell they wanted. He knew the truth.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

There was a long pause, like some tension-filled moment just before the gunfight in Old West movies. He wouldn’t have been surprised if tumbleweeds suddenly blew down the street.

Then, from behind the first woman, another figure stepped out onto the porch, slim and blonde and…shockingly familiar.

He stared, stunned to his bones. It was her. Not Elizabeth. Her. He had seen this woman around his small Idaho town of Haven Point several times over the last few years, fleeting glimpses only out of the corner of his gaze at a baseball game or a school program.

The mystery woman.

He assumed she had been there to watch one of the other children. Maybe an aunt from out of town, someone he didn’t know.

Luke had noticed her…and had hated the tiny little glow of attraction that had sparked to life.

He hadn’t wanted to be aware of any other woman. What was the point? For years, he thought his heart had died when Elizabeth walked away. He figured everything good and right inside him had shriveled up and he had nothing left to give another woman.

Despite his anger at himself for the unwilling attraction to a woman he could never have, he had come to look forward to those random glimpses of the beautiful mystery woman who wore sunglasses and floppy hats, whose hair was a similar color to his wife’s but whose features were very different.

For the first time since he had pulled up to Brambleberry House, he began to wonder if he had been wrong. If Elliot had been wrong, if his investigation had somehow gone horribly off track.

What if this wasn’t Elizabeth? What if it was all some terrible mistake?

He didn’t know what to say, suddenly. Did he tell them both he had erred, make some excuse and disappear? He was about to do just that when he saw her eyes, a clear, startling blue with a dark, almost black, ring around the irises.

He knew those eyes. It was her.

There was nervousness in them, yes, but no surprise, almost as if she had been expecting him.

“Elizabeth.”

She flinched a little at the name. “No one has…called me that in a very long time.”

Her voice was the second confirmation, the same husky alto that had haunted his dreams every single night for seven years.

The other woman stared at her. “Sonia. What is going on? Who is this man? Why is he calling you Elizabeth?”

“It is…a really long story, Rosa.”

“He says he is your husband.”

“He was. A long time ago.”

The anger simmered hotter, flaring up like a controlled burn that was trying to jump the ditch. He did his best to tamp it down. He would not become his father, no matter the provocation.

“I’m still your husband. Nothing has changed. Until we divorce or you are declared dead, we are very much still married in the eyes of the law.”

Her mouth opened again, eyes shocked as if she had never considered the possibility. Maybe as far as she was concerned, her act of walking away without a word had terminated their marriage.

It had in every way except the official one.

“I…guess that’s probably true.”

“That’s why I’m here. I need you to come back to Haven Point so we can end this thing once and for all.” He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “It shouldn’t be that hard for you. You know the way. Apparently you’ve been back to town plenty of times. You just never bothered to stop and say hello to me or your two children.”

Her skin, already pale in the weak December afternoon light, seemed to turn ashen, and Luke was immediately ashamed at his cruelty. He tried to be better than that, to take the higher ground in most situations. He was uncomfortably aware that this unwanted reunion with his long-missing wife would likely bring out the worst in him.

The other woman looked shocked. “You have children? I don’t understand any of this, Sonia.”

She winced. “It’s so complicated, Rosa. I don’t know…where to start. I… My name isn’t Sonia, as you’ve obviously…figured out. He is right. It is Elizabeth Hamilton, and this…this is my husband, Lucas.”

The other woman was slow to absorb the information, but after a shocked moment, her gaze narrowed and she moved imperceptibly in front of Elizabeth, as if her slight frame could protect her friend.

It was a familiar motion, one that intensified his shame. How many times had he done the same thing, throwing his body in front of his mother and then his stepmother? By the time he was big enough and tough enough to make a difference, his father was dead and no longer a threat.

“Are you afraid of this man?” Rosa demanded. “Has he hurt you? I can call Chief Townsend. He would be here in a moment.”

Elizabeth put a hand on the other woman’s arm. It was clear they were close friends. The wild pendulum of Luke’s emotions right now swung back to anger. Somehow she had managed to form friendships with other people, to completely move on with her life, while he had been suffocating for seven years under the weight of rumor and suspicion.

“It is fine, Rosa. Thank you. Please don’t worry about me. I…I need to speak with…with my husband. We have…much to discuss. Go on inside. I’ll talk to you later and…and try to explain.”

Rosa was clearly reluctant to leave. She hovered on the porch, sending him mistrustful looks. He wanted to tell her not to waste her energy. He’d spent years developing a thick skin when it came to people suspecting him of being a monster.

“I’m here,” she said firmly. “I’ll wait inside. You only have to call out. And Melissa is in her apartment as well. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” Elizabeth assured her. “Luke won’t hurt me.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” he muttered, though it was a lie. Some might think him a monster but he suspected Elizabeth knew he could never lay a hand on her.

First of all, it wasn’t in his nature. Second, he had spent his entire life working toward self-mastery and iron control—doing whatever necessary to avoid becoming his father.

After another moment, Rosa turned around and slipped through the carved front door, reluctance apparent in every line of her body. On some level, Luke supposed he should be grateful Elizabeth had people willing to stand up and protect her.

“How did you…? How did you find me?”

He still didn’t know everything Elliot had gone through to locate her. He knew the FBI agent had spent long hours tracking down leads after a truck driver came forward years later to say that on the night Elizabeth disappeared, the trucker thought she gave a woman resembling Elizabeth’s description a ride to a truck stop in central Oregon.

Somehow from that slim piece of information, Elliot had undergone an impressive investigation on his own time and managed to put the pieces of the puzzle together. If not for Elliot, Luke wouldn’t be here in front of this big oceanfront Victorian in Cannon Beach and this familiar but not familiar woman.

Thinking about Elliot Bailey always left him conflicted, too. He was grateful to the man but still found it weird to think of his former best friend with Megan, Luke’s younger sister. After several months, he was almost used to the idea of them being together.

“I didn’t.” He jerked his attention back to the moment. “Elliot Bailey did. That’s not really important, is it? The point is, now I know where you are. But then, I guess you were never really lost, were you? We only thought you were. You’ve certainly been back to Haven Point in your little disguise plenty of times over the years.”

It burned him, knowing he hadn’t recognized his own wife. When he looked closer now, knowing what he did, he could see more hints of the woman he had loved. The brows were the same, arched and delicate, and her lips were still full and lush. But her face was more narrow, her nose completely different and her cheekbones higher and more defined.

Why had she undergone so much plastic surgery? It was one more mystery amid dozens.

“What do you want, Luke?”

“I told you. I need you to come home. At this moment, the Lake Haven County district attorney’s office is preparing to file charges against me related to your disappearance and apparent murder.” 

 “My what?”

“Elliot has tried to convince the woman you’re still very much alive. He hasn’t had much luck, especially considering he’s all but a member of the family and will be marrying my sister in a few months. The DA plans to move forward and arrest me in hopes of forcing me to tell them where I hid your body.”

“Wait—what? Elliot and Megan are together? When did that happen?”

He barely refrained from grinding his teeth. “Not really the point, is it? This has gone on long enough. I’m going to be arrested, Elizabeth. Before the holidays, if my sources are right. The district attorney is determined to send a message that men in her jurisdiction can’t get away with making their wives disappear. I’m going to go to jail, at least for a while. Our children have already spent enough Christmases without one parent. Do you want them to lose the other one?”

“Of course not.”

He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. How could he? He didn’t even know this woman, despite the fact that she had once been closer to him than anyone else on earth.

“Then grab your things and let’s go.”


Excerpted from Coming Home for Christmas by RaeAnn Thayne. Copyright © 2019 by RaeAnn Thayne. Published by HQN Books.

***

Book Summary

Hearts are lighter and wishes burn a little brighter at Christmas…

Elizabeth Hamilton has been lost. Trapped in a tangle of postpartum depression and grief after the death of her beloved parents, she couldn’t quite see the way back to her husband and their two beautiful kids…until a car accident stole away her memories and changed her life. And when she finally remembered the sound of little Cassie’s laugh, the baby powder smell of Bridger and the feel of her husband’s hand in hers, Elizabeth worried that they’d moved on without her. That she’d missed too much. That perhaps she wasn’t the right mother for her kids or wife for Luke, no matter how much she loved them.

But now, seven years later, Luke finds her in a nearby town and brings Elizabeth back home to the family she loves, just in time for Christmas. And being reunited with Luke and her children is better than anything Elizabeth could have imagined. As they all trim the tree and bake cookies, making new holiday memories, Elizabeth and Luke are drawn ever closer. Can the hurt of the past seven years be healed over the course of one Christmas season and bring the Hamiltons the gift of a new beginning?

COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS 

Author: RaeAnne Thayne

ISBN: 9781335504999

Publication Date: 9/24/2019

Publisher: HQN Books

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS (The Women of Brambleberry House #5, Haven Point #10) by RaeAnne Thayne is her new Christmas contemporary romance set in the town of Haven Point Idaho. Even with the tie in to the two series, this book can be read as a standalone. There is character crossover, but the focus is on the second chance romance of the hero and heroine.

For seven years Luke has been a single father to his two young children. One night his wife was gone from their home and he has never known what happened to her. Because of her depression due to the accidental death of her parents and the severe postpartum depression she had after the birth of both of their children Luke has always fear she committed suicide, but some of the people in town believe he is responsible and foul play is involved. He has moved on for the sake of his children, but he is in an emotional as well as a legal limbo.

Elizabeth has been living in a nearby town under a different name. Seven years ago, she was trapped in a depression so deep she felt her family would be better off without her. When she realized running was not the answer, she was involved in a terrible accident which stole her memories and left her with a severe brain injury among many other physical difficulties. When she recovered as much as would ever be possible, she has been secretly visiting her family, but still believes with all of her problems, they are still better off without her.

Luke has found her and come to take her back to Haven Point to clear his name before the holidays.

When Luke discovers the full story of Elizabeth’s missing years, he begins to have feelings once again for this woman who survived so much. Elizabeth wants to reunite with her children more than anything, but she is afraid to hope that Luke will ever be able to forgive her. It is Christmas, the season for new beginnings, love and forgiveness.

I loved this book and it is my favorite Christmas book this season. This is one of those books that you just fall into the story and you never want to leave. It is very emotional and yes, you will need the tissues throughout, but you will never forget Luke and Elizabeth and their story. The children are an important part of the story and add a whole other layer of feels. This book gives you a huge dose of romance with no sex, just understanding, forgiveness and love. RaeAnne Thayne is an author I look for now when searching for a heartfelt romance that can take me on an emotional and rocky journey, but then fills my heart with love and happiness by the HEA.

I highly recommend this Christmas contemporary romance!

***

Author Bio and Social Media Links

New York Times bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne finds inspiration in the beautiful northern Utah mountains where she lives with her family. Her books have won numerous honors, including six RITA Award nominations from Romance Writers of America and Career Achievement and Romance Pioneer awards from RT Book Reviews. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.raeannethayne.com.

Author Website

Twitter: @raeannethayne

Facebook: @AuthorRaeAnneThayne

Instagram: @jensnowauthor

Goodreads

Social Links

Author Website

Twitter: @raeannethayne

Facebook: @AuthorRaeAnneThayne

Instagram: @jensnowauthor

Buy Links

Harlequin 

Indiebound

Amazon

Barnes & Noble 

Books-A-Million

Target 

Walmart

Google

iBooks

Kobo



Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Cowboy Christmas Redemption by Maisey Yates

Hi, everyone!

I am very excited to be a part of the Harlequin Holiday Blog Tour 2020. This is my Feature Post and Book Review for Maisey Yates’ new Christmas contemporary cowboy romance COWBOY CHRISTMAS REDEMPTION (Gold Valley Book 8).

Below you will find an excerpt from the book, a book summary, my book review and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Excerpt

Chapter 2

Caleb Dalton hadn’t had much to smile about for a long time. It had been a bear of a few years, since his best friend’s death, and while time might ease a wound, it wouldn’t ever bring Clint back.

But that permanence made space for movement, around the grief, around the pain. And finally toward a future he’d been planning for a long time.

Clint had been, honest to God, one of the best men on earth. The hole he’d left behind had been huge, and Caleb had dedicated himself to caring for his friend’s widow and child in his absence.

That had been his life, his whole life, for nearly five years. And it was fair, because it had been Ellie’s life, too.

He cared for Ellie. A hell of a lot. He’d met her because of Clint, but she’d been in his life now for more than ten years.

His feelings for Ellie were complicated. Had been from the beginning. But she’d been with Clint. And there was no doubt Clint was the better man. More than that, Clint was his brother. Maybe not in blood, but in every way that counted.

Caleb had never claimed to be a perfect friend. Clint was one of those people who’d drawn everyone right to him. He was easy to like. Caleb’s own parents had been bowled over by Clint from the time they were kids. 

And Caleb’s jealousy had gotten the better of him once when they’d been younger. Something that made him burn with shame even now.

He hadn’t let it happen when they’d been adults. No matter how tempting it had been. No matter how much he’d…

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

He gave thanks that there was a space in front of the Gold Valley Saloon, and he whipped his truck there up against the curb, ignoring the honk that came from behind him.

He turned around and saw Trevor Sanderson in his Chevy, giving Caleb the death glare.

“Hold your damn horses, Trevor,” he muttered as he put his truck in Park.

He should have been quicker.

Hell, that was life in a nutshell. Sometimes, you were just too late. For parking spots, and for women.

He’d tried to get that image out of his head. More times than he could count over the past decade. Had tried to erase that first time he’d seen Ellie.

It was at his parents’ barbecue. Late one summer afternoon.

He’d been talking and laughing with his brothers, and he’d lifted a beer to his lips and looked out away from the party. Then he’d frozen.

It was like the world had slowed down, all of it centering on the beautiful blonde walking toward him. The golden light from the sun illuminated her hair like a halo, and her smile seemed to light him up from the inside out.

As she’d gotten closer, he’d taken in every last detail. The way the left side of her cheek dimpled with that grin; her eyes, a mix of green and blue and a punch in the gut. Her lips were glossy pink, and he wondered if it was that stuff that women wore that smelled and tasted like cherries. He couldn’t decide if he hoped that it was or not.

Twenty years old, more experienced with women than he probably should be, and ready right then and there to drop down to his knees and propose marriage to the one walking in his direction.

It took him a full minute to realize that the beautiful blonde was holding hands with someone.

And that that someone was Caleb’s best friend on earth.

It was a surreal moment. It had been a sea change in his soul. When his feelings for Ellie had tipped over from nothing to everything.

A revelation he hadn’t been looking for, and one he sure as hell hadn’t enjoyed.

It was like the whole world had turned, then bucked, like a particularly nasty-ass bull, and left him sprawled out on the ground.

It had been the beginning of a thorny, painful set of years. As he’d gotten to know Ellie, as his feelings for her had become knit deep into his heart, into his soul. She’d become more than his friend’s woman, and more than a woman he’d desired. She’d become a friend to him.

In many ways he was thankful for the depth of the feeling, because it was the reason he’d been able to put aside the lust. The idea that he’d fallen in love with her at first sight.

When Clint had first started dating her, she’d been in school, so she hadn’t been around all the time. But during the summers, and on breaks, she came around with Clint. 

Went to the lake with them. Went fishing. Came to Christmas and Thanksgiving.

The summers at the lake, though, that had been a particular kind of torture. All of them swimming out in the water, her and her swimsuit. A tiny bikini that had left little to the imagination.

And he had been so very interested in imagining all the things that it did conceal.

And he’d felt like the biggest, most perverse asshole.

Then there had been the time that Clint had asked him to take her out riding.

Just the two of them.

Because Clint trusted him. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he trust his best friend? So he’d done it.

Had taken her out on the trails that wound behind the Dalton family property, up to the top of a mountain. And he looked over at the view with her, watched the sunset. And everything in him had wanted to lean over and kiss her on the mouth. To act on the feelings that were rioting through his chest.

For just a breath she’d looked back at him, met his eyes. And he’d thought maybe she’d wanted it, too.

Yeah, it would have exploded his relationship with Clint, but for a minute it seemed like it might be worth it.

Then she’d looked away. And then he’d come back to himself.

Clint was his brother. In every way but blood.

And he couldn’t betray his friend like that.

Anyway, Ellie loved Clint.

She didn’t love Caleb.

And no matter how much he might not want to, he had to respect that.

So he hadn’t kissed her. They had ridden back down that mountain, and nothing happened between them. But late at night, Caleb had taken himself in hand and fantasized that it had.

Two days later Clint and Ellie had been engaged.

Caleb had agreed to be the best man.

She’d married Clint. And while his feelings for her had remained, they’d shifted. As they’d had to.

He wasn’t perfect. He’d never touched Ellie. Not like a man touched a woman, though that hadn’t stopped him from going over the accidental brush of fingertips, of their elbows touching, over and over in his mind if it had happened on accident.

It hadn’t stopped him from keeping and cherishing secrets with her, even when he knew he shouldn’t. Hadn’t stopped him from pushing some boundaries that not even Ellie had realized he’d been pushing at.

Ellie was the one who’d realized, for the first time, that he was dyslexic. And he’d sworn her to secrecy. And in that secrecy had come secret reading lessons.

And he’d…well, he’d lost control of his own feelings again. And once he’d recognized that, he’d cut them off. Cut her off.

But then Clint had died, just a month later. And everything changed again.

Since then, his relationship with Ellie was about their coming together to try and fill the gap Clint had left behind. His helping where she needed it.

Helping with the house, with her grief, with Amelia.

That was all.


Excerpted from Christmas Cowboy Redemption by Maisey Yates, Copyright © 2019 by Maisey Yates. Published by HQN Books.

***

Book Summary


As snowflakes fall in Gold Valley, Oregon, will this rugged cowboy finally win the woman of his dreams?

Cowboy Caleb Dalton has loved single mom Ellie Bell, and her little daughter, Amelia, for years. But since Ellie is his best friend’s widow, Caleb’s head knows Ellie will always be strictly off-limits. If only his heart got the memo. So when Caleb discovers that Ellie has a Christmas wish list—and hopes for a kiss under the mistletoe—he’s throwing his cowboy hat into the ring. If anyone’s going to be kissing Ellie and sharing this magical time with her and her daughter, it’s him.

Ellie has dreaded the holidays since losing her husband. But this year, she’s finally ready to make some changes. She never expects the biggest change to be the heart-stopping kiss she shares with Caleb. For almost five years, Caleb has been her best friend, her rock, her salvation. This Christmas, can Caleb prove he’s also the missing puzzle piece of Ellie’s and Amelia’s hearts?

COWBOY CHRISTMAS REDEMPTION

Author: Maisey Yates

ISBN: 9781335009906

Publication Date: 9/24/2019

Publisher: HQN Books

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

COWBOY CHRISTMAS REDEMPTION (Gold Valley Book 8) by Maisey Yates is a new Christmas cowboy contemporary romance in the Gold Valley series. Even though this is the eighth book in the series, it can be read as a standalone.

Ellie Bell is not ready for another Christmas without her husband. Clint died four and a half years ago in a tragic accident and never got to meet his daughter, Amelia. His best friend has been there for Ellie, but she feels it is time to make some changes. She writes a Christmas wish list.

Caleb Dalton has loved Ellie Bell for years and made it his mission to always be there for her when she needed him, but he has always believed she was off-limits. When Clint died, Caleb was there to morn with her, be present for the birth of Amelia, be her best friend and her rock. When Ellie shows Caleb her Christmas wish list, he knows he is the only one to fulfill her wishes.

This Christmas, can Caleb prove he is the man for Ellie and Amelia’s future? And is Ellie ready to stop mourning and willing to give herself completely to a new and different love?

This is a Christmas romance that delves into emotional and deep relationship issues. Caleb and Ellie both have had troubled childhoods. Caleb was never diagnosed with his dyslexia and Ellie was never loved by her single mother. When Ellie loved and married Clint, it was an easy love without issues. Caleb offers a more mature and deeper love that demands more than Ellie thinks she is capable of giving. She is afraid. The back and forth between Caleb and Ellie felt realistic based on their pasts, but it was also frustrating and a major portion of the plot. I do wish their final coming together would have been less abrupt. The sex scenes are smokin’ hot and explicit, but not gratuitous. The HEA makes the frustration and wait worthwhile and will make you cry, so have those tissues ready.

Overall, an enjoyable Christmas HEA, but not a light and fluffy Christmas read.

***

Author Bio and Social Media Links

New York Times Bestselling author Maisey Yates lives in rural Oregon with her three children and her husband, whose chiseled jaw and arresting features continue to make her swoon. She feels the epic trek she takes several times a day from her office to her coffee maker is a true example of her pioneer spirit.

Social Links

Author Website

Twitter: @maiseyyates

Facebook:@MaiseyYates.Author 

Instagram: @maiseyyates

Goodreads

Buy Links 

Harlequin 

Indiebound

Amazon

Barnes & Noble 

Books-A-Million

Target 

Walmart

Google

iBooks

Kobo