Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for IT TAKES HEART (Heart Resort Book #1) by Tif Marcelo on this Montlake/Amazon Publishing Blog Tour.
Below you will find a note from the author, a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, an about the author section, the author’s social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy and good luck on the giveaway!
***
A Note from the Author
It was at the Romance Writers of America conference in 2019 when I came up with the idea for the Heart Resort series. Though I was under contract for a third contemporary fiction book (which would become my sixth novel), my first three books were romance novels, and an escapist series tugged at my shirt sleeves. My initial idea: interconnected destination romance novels with the setting as relaxing and lush as it could be, despite the romantic angst and family drama I knew my characters would be placed in.
Then came COVID-19. I had released my second contemporary fiction, ONCE UPON A SUNSET, and was in edits for IN A BOOK CLUB FAR AWAY, and I was no longer under contract for future books. My need to escape heightened during the fear of lockdown. So, I dove headlong into the proposal of the Heart Resort series. At first, I thought of setting this book on an island in the Pacific Ocean but I could not make myself write it knowing that the borders were closed to travel due to the virus. Though I tried not to put COVID into my novels, still I needed to be realistic for the times.
Then the location dawned on me: our family’s most favorite vacation spot: the Outer Banks, or OBX. And especially south of 12: Nags Head, Rodanthe, Hatteras. On a printed map, I drew what would be the Heart Resort peninsula, connected to highway 12 via a land bridge.
Heart Resort is serendipitously heart-shaped. In the epicenter is the headquarters and the apartments of the four Puso siblings. Puso, which means “heart” in Tagalog—of course it does! Chris, Gil, Bea, and Brandon, the four Puso siblings, live and work on this resort. They are the heart, they make the resort and peninsula “go.” Though, we come to find out that they each have their own secrets and matters of the heart to contend with.
Everything on this peninsula is specific and special. Each home is named. Every employee is family. The view from every window is spectacular. And though they promise their clients their own version of the HEA, or the happily ever after, the Puso siblings clamor for theirs.
IT TAKES HEART, the first in the series, introduces Brandon Puso and Geneva Harris, former lovers reunited in their common mission to help rebuild the resort after a tropical storm. Neither knew the other was going to be there, and their first instinct is to run. But both are loyal to a fault, and soon they find themselves growing closer despite their best intentions. Surrounding them are a cast of characters, all with their stories to tell, all while trying make the resort successful despite throes of competition with another resort.
Love, loyalty, and business all in one peninsula located at one of the most gorgeous locations in the United States. Heart Resort is truly a place to read about to get your heart pumping.
***
BookSummary
Heart Resort, a private resort in the Outer Banks, is a romantic getaway for couples but a hotbed of family drama for its proprietors, the Puso family. Brandon Puso, the youngest of the four siblings, prefers life on his own as a licensed contractor in DC after a falling-out with his eldest brother.
After a hurricane plows through the Outer Banks, Brandon has a change of heart. He returns to the resort to help with the grand reopening but encounters his big sister’s best friend, designer Geneva Harris, who’s there to do the same thing. But Geneva and Brandon have a secret. Years ago, they had a secret romance that ended in heartbreak.
With the resort’s future at stake, Brandon and Geneva decide to put the past aside and to keep peace with the family. But as their mutual attraction heats up, they have to decide if history will repeat itself—or if this time, love gets a second chance.
IT TAKES HEART (Heart Resort Book #1) by Tif Marcelo is a second chance contemporary romance and the first book in a new series featuring a Filipino-American family of three brothers and one sister who own and run the Heart Resort in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
Brandon Puso is the youngest of the Puso clan and a licensed general contractor in business with his friend from college. Since a falling out with his oldest brother, Brandon has been living in the home of his deceased parents in Annapolis. But after a hurricane rips through the Outer Banks, Brandon returns to Heart Resort to help his siblings get it repaired and set up for a grand re-opening.
Interior designer Geneva Harris is Brandon’s sister best friend and has always been around the Puso family. Geneva is at the resort to help with the interior design and a rest from her hectic schedule. Geneva does not know Brandon will be at the resort and none of the siblings know that Geneva and Brandon had a secret romance that ended in heartbreak.
Brandon and Geneva agree to work together as friends, but their mutual attraction continually heats up. They have a short time to work together and to decide if they will once again go their separate ways or if this time, they will get a second chance at love.
This is a romance that was so enjoyable to read. The family gives you not only the usual sibling dynamics, drama, angst, love and understanding, but also an interesting infusion of Filipino culture and food. Brandon is doing well professionally but dealing with so much emotionally. Geneva is also doing great professionally but she never settles anywhere and lives out of her bags. Both run from their emotions and emotional situations and Ms. Marcelo does a good job of having each work through their baggage with the help of family and/or having frank conversations between themselves. There are short sex scenes that are neither explicit nor graphic. I am definitely looking forward to reading the other siblings‘ stories in this Heart Resort series as well.
I recommend this heartfelt second chance contemporary romance!
***
Excerpt
Brandon tripped over his own feet as his sister leapt from her chair.
“Now it’s my turn to surprise you.” Beatrice wrapped her hands around his bicep and pulled him toward the round table. She was laughing, enthused.
But Brandon, simultaneously exhausted from a fitful sleep and amped from laborious work that morning, could not grapple with what was before him. He was seeing a ghost. Or, rather, he was seeing the living, breathing apparition of the woman who had all but ghosted him.
He shut his eyes for a beat to clear his vision, but when he opened them and refocused, she was still there.
“Geneva,” he breathed out.
The Geneva Harris he’d fallen for four years ago after a stunning three weeks together. The same Geneva Harris who, after an argument, had left him to wake alone the next morning with her side of the bed all tucked back into place as if she’d never been there. Like she had been a vivid dream.
The memory yanked Brandon’s heart out of his chest, leaving a cavernous space. He’d had a myriad of feelings over the years after their breakup: loss, anger, sadness. Now, all he felt was nothing—was this shock? No, shock was the brick wall he couldn’t get around when his parents died. This felt like . . . emptiness.
He was dumbfounded even as he got close enough to reacquaint himself with the details of her face: her high cheekbones, which even without makeup carried a muted shade of pink; the one tiny mole next to her nose; and what he now knew was a forced smile because it was this exact same smile she had placated him with the night before she had taken off.
“Hi,” Geneva said.
Beatrice dragged him down to sit in the chair across from Geneva, then took the third seat at the table. “You remember Geneva, right?”
The cue threw him off his running thoughts. Time had passed. They were not in Las Vegas, but in Heart Resort. His family didn’t know about them. “Oh, yeah. Hey. Sorry, I’m just a little . . .” He stuck a hand out.
What looked like relief played across Geneva’s features. She shook his hand. “It’s okay. It’s the ocean air. Nice to see you again.”
Was it nice to see him? Had she hoped to see him? Did she know he’d be here?
“How long has it been for the both of you? Since we left for school?” Beatrice asked.
Four years, actually.
“Four years.” Geneva echoed his thoughts, eyes leaving his sister’s face, then down to her drink. “Chris and Eden’s wedding.”
“How could I forget.” Beatrice bumped her forehead with a palm. “I take that back. Of course I forgot—I planned that event and was probably stressed to high heavens. Now that was a whirlwind.” Then, to Brandon, in a change of subject only Beatrice could manage, gestured to their surroundings. “Did you want me to order? I assume that you’re here for lunch. Chef Castillo pivoted to feed us even if our restaurant’s closed. Oh, just as an FYI, our new Friday dinners are now at Chef Castillo’s and her sister’s eatery, south on 12.”
That took his attention for a beat. “A Filipino restaurant, down here?”
“Yep. So keep your Friday night free, both of you. It’s required.” She grinned. “So, what’s your poison.”
“Actually, I’m good.” Whatever appetite he’d had disappeared. “I spotted your golf cart and thought I would stop to say hi before my first meeting with the team.”
“Perfect timing! I was telling Geneva about your demo sesh this morning. You might have been exactly where Geneva’s was. She’s in Ligaya.”
Brandon had found it clever that the family had decided to assign a Tagalog word for each of the cabins, the yoga studio, and restaurant. It had been Gil’s idea, though taken right out their parents’ playbook of hammering their wooden sign at every residence.
“Ah . . . I was definitely next door, at Habang-buhay.” Brandon snorted at the irony, that he’d demoed a beach house that was named forever, and all that morning, she had been just beyond his reach in a cabin whose name meant joy.
She had been his joy, once.
***
About the Author
Tif Marcelo is a veteran US Army nurse who holds a BS in nursing and a master’s in public administration. She believes in and writes about the strength of families, the endurance of friendship, and the beauty of heartfelt romance—and she’s inspired daily by her own military hero husband and four children. She hosts the Stories to Love podcast, and she is also the USA Today bestselling author of In a Book Club Far Away, Once Upon a Sunset, The Key to Happily Ever After, and the Journey to the Heart series. Sign up for her newsletter at www.TifMarcelo.com.
Today I am once again posting for the Harlequin Trade Publishing Women’s Fiction Summer 2021 Blog Tour. I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE WILDEST RIDE (A Closed Circuit Novel Book #1) by Marcella Bell. I love this story, but FYI, it is more of a romance than Women’s fiction story.
Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
***
Book Summary
Rodeo meets reality-TV with this never-before-seen Closed Circuit competition, where an undefeated city-boy champion goes head to head with his world-class, kick-ass female rival. Romance ensues as they battle for the million-dollar prize.
At thirty-six, undefeated rodeo champion AJ Garza is supposed to be retiring, not chasing after an all new Closed Circuit rodeo tour with a million-dollar prize. But with the Houston rodeo program that saved him as a wayward teen on the brink of bankruptcy, he’ll enter. And he’ll win.
Enter, Lilian Sorrow Island. Raised by her grandparents on the family ranch in Muscogee, OK, Lil is more a cowboy than city-boy AJ will ever be. It shows. She’s not about to let him steal the prize that’ll save her ranch, even if he is breathtakingly magnificent, in pretty much every way going.
The world watches on as reality-TV meets rodeo in a competition like no other. In front of the cameras they’re each other’s biggest rivals. Off screen, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated…
THE WILDEST RIDE (A Closed Circuit Novel Book #1) by Marcella Bell is the first book in a contemporary multicultural romance series that is listed under Women’s fiction, but the only reason I found for this was the ending is more of an implied HEA than being a written, explicit one.
Lilian ‘Lil’ Sorrow runs her grandparents ranch since the death of her grandfather. When it is disclosed that her grandfather took a reverse mortgage out on the ranch, they find they must begin to pay it back or lose the family ranch. Lil was trained by her grandfather to shine in all rodeo events so when the Closed Circuit event is announced, her grandmother signs her up. Lil will get to follow her and her grandfather’s dreams of starring in a PBRA event.
AJ Garza has been the undefeated rodeo champion for years and is supposed to be retiring, but the Closed Circuit event is what he needs to save the Houston rodeo program for at-risk boys which introduced him to rodeo when he needed it.
The world watches as reality TV meets rodeo. Both Lil and AJ need the grand prize, but the competitors find it difficult to keep their personal attraction under control and out of the competition.
I loved the idea and setting of this story and the author did not disappoint. Lil is a small powerhouse who knows how to run a ranch and shine at a rodeo but is living in fear of making her mother’s mistakes. AJ only knows rodeo as his profession and he does not know how to move on. The two of them are pitted against each other, but soon they are also helping each other. Ms. Bell does an excellent job of moving the story at a good pace with the rodeo events while still moving the romance at a slower, believable pace. When the sex scenes occur, they are very sexy, hot and not gratuitous. All the characters in this story are memorable and fully fleshed. It was interesting to learn of the segregation in the PBRA and the rodeo in general, not just in color and culture, but sex also. Since this is a series, I will be interested to see if it features a different H/h focus in each book around the Closed Circuit shows or we will get to see Lil and AJ in future stories.
I recommend this start to this engaging new series and I am looking forward to seeing how it progresses.
***
Excerpt
One
On their own, the sheep weren’t that bad. It was the goats that were the problem. They gave the sheep ideas.
And what the hell sheep needed with ideas, Lilian Island did not know.
The dogs, Oreo and Carrot, had gone in opposite directions, each pulling wide to flank the scattered sheep on the left and right while Lil and her horse harried them from behind. As they picked up speed, her heart caught the rhythm of her horse’s hooves thundering against the ground as they chased the lead ewe together, two beings becoming one in motion.
The wind whipped across the shaved sides of her head, drowning out all other sounds beneath its gusty whoosh. It deposited traces of prairie dust in the loosely braided column of black hair that trailed back along the center of her head to hang down the midpoint of her spine.
Lil transferred the reins to her left hand in order to wrap them around the pommel of her saddle, steadying herself with her thighs as she did.
With her right hand, she reached for the rope coiled at her hip.
Her tornado-gray eyes, both narrowed beneath two thick black eyebrows, locked on the sheep like a missile on target.
Woman and horse flanked the sheep. Lil uncoiled the rope with a snap of her wrist while releasing the pommel with her other hand, letting her body tilt down the side of the horse until she was level with their quarry.
This close, she recognized the sheep as BB, or Bossy Betty, the herd’s matriarch.
It just went to show: a fierce woman could be counted on to keep everybody in line, but watch out when they got wild.
Lil surprised herself by laughing out loud as she leaped from the side of her horse to tackle the sheep. Catching three of its legs in her left hand, she quickly roped them off with her right.
She might not be quite as fast as she once was, but there was no denying she still had it.
After a few half-hearted attempts at resistance, BB heaved a huge sigh and slumped against the ground. To the tune of the occasional disgruntled bleat, Lil freed the defeated but unharmed animal.
She made the rope into a makeshift lead and tied the wayward leader to her saddle, giving her a consolation pat along the way, making a mental note to tell Piper that the herd was coming due for shearing.
Still smiling, Lil said to the sheep, “Inconvenient, BB, but it’s been a long time since I did any mutton bustin’.” With a final pat and chuckle, she added, “A damn long time.”
The lingering rush of the chase was familiar—once it got you, the thrill of the ride never really let go—but the wish to do it again, that was unexpected. She was a grown woman, well past her rodeo days.
Sharp barking approaching from her right signaled that Carrot and Oreo were on their way back with the rest of the flock.
Soon they would have the whole herd of them back in the yard, and then Lil could start her actual workday.
Feeding the barn stock was supposed to be her meditative morning ritual.
One that might need reconsideration, she thought as she hooked a foot into her stirrup and swung onto her horse.
The horse was the same stormy gray color as Lil’s eyes, with a black mane and tail matched to the inky midnight tone of Lil’s hair. Fanciful, Lil had named her Aurora, the most beautiful thing she could think of at the time, but everybody called her Rory.
Rory had been Lil’s twenty-fifth birthday present from her granddad. The last one he ever gave her.
Leaning forward, she pressed the side of her face against Rory’s warm neck, breathing deep that unique-in-all-the-world scent that was horse.
Oreo and Carrot brought in the remaining six sheep, and Lil led the group back toward the yard.
The coyotes could have the goats for all she cared. They had been the ones to open the fence.
She turned to Oreo, on her left, “With my luck, they would just eat the coyotes, and then we’d still have the stupid things, plus an enormous vet bill, to boot.”
Oreo gave a cheerful whuff, and Lil tried not to wonder what it meant that the response satisfied her.
Lil led the sheep and dogs back into the barnyard and tied the gate shut with the backup rope. The broken lock needed replacing—another task she added to her mental list. Once a goat figured out the mechanism, you had to get a whole new style lock.
Shaking her head, she unsaddled Rory, brushed the horse down, gave her a pat of hay, and tossed her a handful of oats.
Wrapping up her morning routine, Lil spread feed out in the yard for the chickens. They’d eat bugs and other bits around the farmhouse throughout the day, but it was always a good idea to start the day with a hearty breakfast. Besides, there was comfort in the action of spreading feed, especially after the chaotic morning.
The familiar action finally brought her heart some of the calm she typically found in doing the morning chores. She might spend her days chained to a desk running the business end of things, but she was still a hands-on rancher at heart.
The chickens settled into contented clucking and rooting just in time for Lil to hear her grandmother shriek from the kitchen.
Lil was across the yard in four seconds, up the stairs, and into the kitchen in another two.
Her eyes and muscles worked faster than her mind. Before she knew what she was doing, her rope was out, its tail end lashing out to snake around the delicate wrist of the arm raised against the woman who had raised her.
A flick of Lil’s wrist and the stranger—a woman, after a second more processing—flipped into the air before landing hard on her back on the kitchen floor.
“Lil.” Gran’s voice was cross.
Lil crossed the kitchen in three strides, crouched at the stranger’s side, and rolled her over.
The woman’s face had gone pale and sweaty, all the more unfortunate for being paired with a green three-piece skirt suit with a little too much square in the shoulders. She was probably in her midforties and had a tight perm shorn close to her head. Based on the faint traces of grow-out, the woman was a natural sensible brown that she had dyed an even more sensible brown.
Lil considered the woman for a second longer before saying, casually, “I could shoot you, you know.” Granddad had always said calm was scarier. “You’re in my home, uninvited, and this is Oklahoma.”
“Lil.” Gran’s voice turned up a notch, breaking through the cold rage in her mind. “Apologize.”
Lil’s chin angled up, and her heels dug down, “I’m not saying sorry to this stranger. She was about to hit you.”
Gran’s face cracked with a smile that had a hint of bite in it. She patted the front pocket of her apron before pulling out her mace key chain. It was the color of a purple highlighter. “I might have said a few provoking words about her mother… But that’s beside the point. I had the situation under control. I’ve got my mace. Carry it everywhere since Granddad passed.”
Lil groaned, her mind filled with images of Gran spraying innocent fools in the face, all of which were more comfortable than knowing that carrying mace around was just another sign that Gran felt a little less safe in the world without Granddad around.
“Gran. You know that doesn’t make you any safer. And were you planning to wait until after she hit you to use it?”
The woman cleared her throat, the disapproving sound instantly transporting Lil back in time to her second grade teacher’s class, Mrs. Donkin. Students in Mrs. Donkin’s class were guests in her realm and were expected to act accordingly.
Lil hadn’t liked the sound coming from her teacher, and she certainly didn’t like it coming from a stranger in her own kitchen.
“I’m with the Bank of—”
Lil cut her off with a raised hand. “We all know you’re from the bank—” There were certain professions a person couldn’t hide, no matter how hard they tried—cops, bankers, lawyers, teachers, pastors, and cowboys—each one was obvious a mile away. “As modern bankers aren’t known for door-to-door recruitment, it then seems pretty safe to assume you’re from the bank we do business with, the Bank of Muskogee. Now, we don’t have much in our accounts, so we wouldn’t be the kind of clientele they’d send a representative out all this way to for a friendly check-in. That means you’re here about our larger investment, this ranch. I run the books here, so I can think of a whole host of reasons you might be interested in paying us a visit regarding the ranch. What I can’t think of, though, is a single damn reason you would be in my kitchen, in my home, lifting a hand to my grandmother. I find that so stupefying that it seems only natural to assume you’re capable of anything, moving me toward my only recourse—the use of force to protect myself from attempted injury.”
The woman huffed at Lil’s words but refrained from commenting until she’d risen to her feet, straightened her skirt, dusted off her suit jacket, and patted her hair.
Then she said, “I am with the Bank of Muskogee, and Miss Lilian—I assume you are the Miss Lilian described in my file—I would be happy to explain myself to the authorities, including how you assaulted me, so go ahead and call them.” She had patted her file when referencing it and now stood tapping her foot on the tile flooring. Lil and Granddad had spent weeks one achingly hot summer installing the incredible discontinued turquoise tile. Gran had gotten them for a steal, importing them direct from a Jamaica-based tile maker she’d met in an online forum about beading. The labor had been hard, the result worth it. No one else in Muscogee had a kitchen floor like Gran’s, which was just how she liked it.
The woman’s tapping was becoming irritating, so Lil smiled her mean smile and said, “Nobody said anything about calling anybody. I rather think I’d drive leisurely down to the station to let everyone know what happened after-the-fact if you understand what I’m saying.”
The woman’s mouth made a little O of outrage, and she clutched her file in front of her. “I assure you, I will make a note of this hostility in my file.”
Lil rolled her eyes before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “What’re you here for?”
The woman lifted her nose in the air. “As I was getting to before your grandmother verbally attacked me—”
Lil let out a low growling noise, and the woman stopped talking to take an audible gulp.
“As. I. Was. Saying. The Bank of Muscogee sent me to deliver the news that your bereavement grace period has ended. I am also to remind you that, as per the terms of the agreement, you, the heirs of Herman Island, may, without a down payment, begin making adjusted mortgage payments beginning November of this year. Alternatively, with a new down payment, an adjusted payment set at a rate equal to that of the average final six payments of the previous mortgage is available to you. If none of those options are feasible, you are free to leave the ranch and all of its associated troubles—my file indicates difficulties securing improvement permit approvals and equipment rentals, as well as challenges with making timely mortgage payments—to the bank.”
“Now, what nonsense are you talking about?” Lil asked, eyebrows and nose screwed up in genuine bewilderment. “That file of yours might paint a part of the picture true, but without a doubt, this ranch has one thing going for it, and that’s the fact that it’s paid for.”
The woman shook her head, the movement mechanical like a clock, her expression a blend of smug and pleased that Lil’s mind immediately coined smleased. “Not for the last six and a half years since your grandfather walked through the doors of the central street branch and applied for a reverse mortgage.”
“What?” Lil’s mouth dropped open this time. “You mean those things sleazy banks use to prey on lonely old folk without kin?”
The woman had the gall to look affronted. “Reverse mortgages are an important mode of financial freedom for seniors without traditional options!”
Lil shook her head, amazed. The woman moved like a clock and spoke with all the heart of a robot. “You’re telling me that the Bank of Muscogee somehow fooled my granddad into signing his land away?” Heat built in her chest, making its way upward toward her neck and face.
“The Bank of Muscogee was merely the facilitator. Your grandfather walked in, submitted the appropriate paperwork, and walked out with 1.2 million dollars.”
Lil laughed. “$1.2 million? Lady, you had me going. You truly did. But you lost me at 1.2 million dollars. I spent nearly every day of the last two years of his life with my granddad. If he’d have had a million dollars, I would have known about it.”
Gran, having been quietly observing the exchange, chose the moment to reenter the conversation. “She’s telling the truth, Lil.”
Lil’s head whipped around to face her gran. “That’s crazy, Gran. Where’d the money go if he did it?”
“I found the money.”
All the heat building inside abandoned Lil as swiftly as it’d arrived, leaving her shivering in the morning warmth of the kitchen.
“He set up a separate account. Most of it’s gone. Spent on the ranch before you go worrying,” Gran said, looking severe and firm. “Your granddad was a good man. I haven’t worked it all out yet, but the secret was his only sin.”
Some of the tightness left Lil’s chest at her gran’s words, but she mumbled, “It’s a big enough sin.”
“Lilian Island, I’ll not have you speaking ill of the dead.”
“How could he have done this?”
For a moment, it was as if the bank representative had disappeared, and it was just the two of them, a bewildered granddaughter trying to understand the world from her weary widowed grandmother.
Gran shook her head, the motion small for all the volumes it spoke. “He must have had a good reason.”
The woman from the bank cleared her throat. “Yes. Well. Your grandfather’s motivations notwithstanding, it is my task to get your signature on this paper, which states I’ve informed you of the terms of the reverse mortgage.” She held up a multipage form, the top few pages folded back to reveal a signature line at the base of a long page, which she jabbed with a finger Lil knew had done more than its fair share of pointing.
Gran’s eyebrow ticked up, and Lil’s stomach tightened on reflex—years spent under the woman’s watchful eye had taught her to be wary of that look.
Gran was irritated and through with the woman’s presence in her kitchen.
Without speaking a word, with barely even a glance in the woman’s direction, Gran’s arm flashed out and signed the paper, the whole motion eerily like the one she had so often reached back and used to smack some sense into her old fool cowboy of a husband.
Lil wondered if the millions of tiny memories she stumbled into each day on the ranch would always hurt. This deep into them with no sign of abating, she’d nearly reconciled herself to the fact that chances were they would.
On a groan, Lil said, “Gran, you can’t just sign like that. You didn’t even look at the document.”
The bank woman virtually salivated. “Thank you, Mrs. Island. I’m sure the bank will be pleased with your response.”
Gran scoffed, still not looking at the woman. “I’m sure they will be SherriDawn Daniels, but, as I was saying before you so rudely lost your temper after I invited you into my home, it won’t get you any closer to knowing who your real daddy is.”
Lil grimaced, and SherriDawn—old enough to be Lil’s mother and, who had, according to Gran, been one of the wild girls Lil’s mother had palled around with as a teen—actually growled.
Lil’s hand tensed at her side, ready to repeat the scene from earlier if need be.
But this time SherriDawn held her temper, instead, plastering a broad smile on her face, saying through clenched teeth, “I’ll just be on my way, now, Mrs. Island. It was nice seeing you again.”
Gran cackled. “Don’t you lie to me, SherriDawn. I’ve seen right through you since you were fifteen years old, and don’t pretend like it isn’t true.”
The growling sound moved lower down into her throat, but this time SherriDawn took the wise course: she shut her mouth, clasped her briefcase, and swiveled narrowly to the door.
Watching her walk away, so prim and proper that it seemed anally uncomfortable, it was hard to imagine SherriDawn might have been wild enough to ride with her mother. In Lil’s mind, her mother represented all that was wild and dangerous, as well as what happened when you chased after it. She’d been wild enough to run around and have herself a baby by a mystery man she refused to name at sixteen. Wild enough to run off and never come back, leaving that baby to be raised by her grandparents.
SherriDawn didn’t seem like she had the balls for all of that.
After the door slammed shut, the old screen let to fall without care by SherriDawn on her way out, Gran gathered herself with a shuddering breath, which she then let out on a long theatrical sigh.
Lil’s Spidey senses tingled.
Given what Gran already seemed to know about things, the whole scene with SherriDawn now seemed put on. And Gran’s long sigh was telling. That meant that all of it—goading the bank woman, the dramatic reveal, perhaps even the sheep and the goats, now that Lil was thinking about it—was part of one of Gran’s plots then.
If she knew her gran, and she did like the back of her hand, this one would be related to the reverse mortgage but would be no less outrageous for being grounded in their real problems.
Gran put on a sober look before sighing. “Everyone ought to be here—I only want to say this once.” Then she opened her mouth and hollered at the top of her considerable lungs, “PIPER! TOMMY!”
Piper, their petite red-haired farmhand, came running in first, clearly having grabbed the closest thing at hand to use as a weapon if needed—a horseshoe.
Tommy, Lil’s live-in cousin from Granddad’s side, had a rifle.
Steady, dependable, Tommy.
“What’s going on?” they asked in unison.
“You’re all going to want to sit down for this,” Gran said with an arm toward the kitchen table and more weariness in her voice than the unveiling of a scheme usually allowed.
Following her grandmother’s gesture, Lil noticed for the first time the plaid thermos of coffee that sat in the center of the round table.
It wasn’t the new stainless steel one.
Gran had taken out the plaid one. She reserved the plaid thermos for tough conversations.
Four chairs sat around the table, each with an empty coffee mug in front of it.
Lil’s seat, where she sat now that she knew what was going on, was the east point of the compass of their table.
Gran sat in the north, Tommy the south, and Piper the west.
Granddad had always been in the northeast, a steady anchor between Gran and Lil.
Without him, they held each other as best they could, but both had become more prone to drifting.
Gran waited for everyone to pour a cup before she spoke. “I’ll start with the good news. We have each other. We have our stock, and, for the moment, we have the land.”
“Not a promising start, Gran,” Lil observed.
“It is when it might be all we’ve got,” Gran said simply. “Unbeknownst to me, Granddad took a reverse mortgage on the ranch in the years before he died. I received a letter informing me of this in the mail last week.”
Lil frowned. That Gran had sat on information this critical for a week settled about as well as lemon juice in cream.
Gran continued, “After some digging, what I can piece together is this: about five years ago, Granddad lost the Wilson drive contract.”
Lil shook her head. “That’s impossible. He went right up until he died. That’s half the reason he got sick in the first place.”
Gran placed a hand on Lil’s wrist, just below where the hand attached to it had clenched into a fist.
Gran, never one to pull her punches, said: “He didn’t go. He kept a separate bank account for the money, and he tracked his expenses. He spent the time in Tulsa at a hotel renting movies and ordering room service.” A half smile broke through the frustration. “Greedy old cuss.”
But it wasn’t an endearing foible to Lil’s frame of mind. He had lied to them, and, in his own words, like all lies, it had spiraled into an avalanche of deceit.
“In the agreement, he included a provision to give us extra time before we had to make a decision, but that time is up. We have sixty days to come up with a down payment for the ranch, following which the bank will establish monthly mortgage payments. Every way I’ve looked at it, it’s our only option. We would never be able to afford the payment the bank offered without the down payment. But nobody is going to evict us from land my husband’s family has held on to, hardscrabble as it’s been, through hell on earth.” The last she directed specifically to Lil and Tommy. Through their granddad’s line, Tommy and Lil were Muscogee Creek Freedmen, the descendants of enslaved people under the double burden of being property during the relocation and later forced removal of the Muscogee from their homelands in the southeast. And after the tribe disenrolled the freedmen in the seventies, their citizenship revoked in a blow her granddad had never quite recovered from, this land, this dry patch of Oklahoma allotted to their family after the Civil War—insignificant dust mote of a ranch that it was—was the only proof they had left, the only hint as to how their family had ended up in Oklahoma in the first place. Tearing folks from their history was one of the ways to break them, so Lil’s family had held on to theirs through their land—through cultural hostility, the dust bowl, outright deception, attempts to steal, and everything else that time and life had thrown their way.
They had refused to sell even when their neighbors, cousins, and relatives packed up and left, seeking the green of other pastures and the heat of other suns. The Islands had stuck it out, and the reward was being able to say they’d held on to the first and only thing they’d ever been given.
Until now.
Lil was glad she had taken Gran’s advice to sit down. The floor had become somewhat less substantial beneath her boots.
It occurred to her that they were nice boots. She could probably sell them for some quick cash. It wouldn’t be anywhere near enough if what she thought might be true was true.
Sixty days wasn’t enough time at all. Lil frowned. They had a cash reserve of five thousand to keep them and the stock fed through a pinch, and they had the value of their stock itself, which could bring in another eighty thousand in a quick sale at auction, but as far as she knew, they didn’t have any other assets.
Her 1980s Toyota was too beat up to be worth anything, and she didn’t own any personal items of value.
Finally, she found her voice. “But why would Granddad do something like that?”
Gran sighed. “I don’t think that he could admit he was too old to do it all himself anymore. Looking at his paperwork, in addition to withdrawing the amounts it took to look like he’d still been going on the drives, it looks like he’d been dipping in those funds rather liberally.”
“Rory…” Lil grimaced. She had wondered where he’d scrounged up the money for a papered Arabian filly.
Now she knew.
Gran nodded. “And Gorgeous,” she said, referring to the brand new Subaru station wagon that sat in her driveway, souped-up with every safety and luxury feature available.
Lil brought her fingers to her temples and rubbed. “So how much is left in his secret pot then?” she asked.
Gran shook her head. “Just ten thousand.”
“What?” Lil gasped.
Whining wasn’t her usual way, but, as the woman from the bank had gone, and there was no one left to throttle, it was the only option available.
“Don’t be theatrical.” Gran’s comment was automatic, so much so that Lil wasn’t even sure the woman noticed she’d made it, nor that, as far as statements went, it was the pot calling the kettle. “They want twenty percent for the down payment. We don’t have that.”
Lil groaned. “Nor enough for the mortgage payments after that. We’re barely making it by as is.” Lil couldn’t tell the truth: they weren’t making it. She had been contemplating selling equipment to stretch the final distance to make ends meet. Every month it was a struggle, but Lil had been somehow managing, just eking it out of the red. A mortgage payment, any mortgage payment, would break them.
Gran waited a beat after Lil’s interruption, punctuating the unspoken admonishment with a lifted eyebrow and communicating clearly without words: Are you done yet?
Lil blushed.
“But—” Gran continued. “We have each other. And we have Lil.”
The way her gran said her name made the hair stand up on the back of her neck, but when she opened her mouth to question, her grandmother lifted her palm to her, a signal to Lil to hold her tongue.
Out of respect, she did.
“Lil. You’re on temporary reassignment.”
“What are you talking about?” Lil asked.
“I’m the owner, aren’t I?” she asked.
“Yes, but we agreed that I was in charge of daily operations.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Gran.”
“I can do your job. Nobody but you can do what we need you for now.”
Here was the plot then. Lil’s skin crawled with a warning, but she asked anyway, “And what is that?”
Gran handed her a glossy quarter sheet flyer in response. Lil read the largest print and then set it facedown on the table and brought her fingers to her temples.
Gran’s voice was soft when she next spoke. “We need the money, Lil. I don’t see any other way.”
Lil groaned.
Gran added, “You’re the best there’s ever been.”
The old woman wasn’t pulling any punches.
Lil’s voice flirted with the edge of hysteria. “Says a nobody’s grandma with a stopwatch and pasture.”
“‘Nobody’s grandma?’ Excuse you.” She pointed to the third line of the flyer, “Did you see the prize? There are no points required, just a qualifier. It’s part of the whole thing. Like American Idol.”
Lil went ahead and dove fully into hysteria. When she spoke, her voice squeaked high to low like a pubertal boy. “American Idol?”
Gran’s next words had the same effect as being hit by a bucket of cold water: “You could ride a bull.”
Lil’s body froze and tingled at the same time.
She hadn’t stepped foot in an arena in years and never competed in a PBRA-sponsored rodeo.
She had walked away a junior champion and ridden pro a few times in the Indian National Rodeo rodeos. Still, the world of rodeo mostly had forgotten about her—except for the few administrators who would always remember her as the girl who had tried and failed, over and over, to get women into the PBRA’s, the Professional Bull Riders Association, rough stock events. Because in Lil’s mind, what did it matter if she won every other event if she couldn’t win on the back of a bull?
She was skilled enough to have made a good living between women’s events in the PBRA and the Indian rodeos, but if she couldn’t ride a bull under the banner of PBRA, she didn’t want any of it.
So she rode for a college scholarship and then quit when she graduated instead. And then she’d come back to the ranch. End of story. And that was good enough for her.
Since her retirement, rodeo had opened up a lot, and she was happy for the younger generation. A handful of girls had even been allowed on top of bulls. None had made it far, but Lil knew it was only a matter of time.
She shook her head with a sigh. “I can’t, Gran. I’m rusty as an old nail, and there’s just too much to do around here. Besides, the ranch is too much for Tommy and Piper to run on their own.”
Gran snorted. “You work in the office most of the day, anyway.”
“Gran, you don’t have the energy for it,” Lil insisted.
“Energy? Hell, after more years of doing it than you’ve been alive, I could do the ranch’s books half asleep—and have! I just let you take over because it’s a snoozefest.”
“Snoozefest? Gran, do you hear yourself?” Lil turned to Piper and Tommy for help, “You don’t support this, do you?”
Both shrugged.
Piper said, “We trust Gran.”
Gran crossed her arms in front of her chest and lifted a brow. “They trust me.”
“It’s a lot more work,” Lil tried.
Tommy said, “We’ve been doing more and more of it while you’ve been up there pinching pennies.”
Lil’s cheeks heated, but she didn’t contradict him. He and Piper had been pulling more and more of her weight as she tried to do the impossible.
The impossible that she wasn’t very good at. The impossible that Gran could do in her sleep—which was true. Gran ran a tight ship, whatever ship she came to, and she had been far more organized in running Swallowtail Ranch than Lil could ever hope to be.
They had supported her through the last sad and stumbling years. Participating in this crazy scheme was what they were asking of her in return.
Mentally sweating, Lil pushed her chair back, its legs screeching across the floor, and stood up. Turning around, she headed to the door without saying another word.
“Where are you going, Lilian?” Gran only used her full name when she got stern.
Lil stopped mid-step. “I’m going to clear out my desk,” she said.
Behind her back, Gran smiled. Lil didn’t have to see it to know it was true. Gran always smiled when she got what she wanted, and she always got what she wanted.
“Don’t worry about that now. You’ve got training to do. Gotten a bit out of shape, if you ask me.”
Piper erupted in a fit of witchy cackles as Lil stormed out of the kitchen. Ignoring them all, Lil went to her office.
On the second floor of the farmhouse, the room used to be her gran and granddad’s bedroom, but she and Gran had turned it into the office after he passed. Gran said she couldn’t bear to sleep in there alone.
It made a lovely office—wide and bright, with delicately framed French doors that led to a weight-bearing balcony. Weight-bearing because Lil’s summer project last year had been to reinforce the support beams, replace the decking, and weather coat the whole thing.
She figured that should get her five years’ worth of good use of Muskogee’s extreme annual mood swings before she’d need to do any repairs. That is if she kept up on refinishing it every year, which she had planned to, since walking out on the balcony had preserved her sanity after a long stint of pushing paper many a time.
She walked through the doors and stood there now, enjoying it while she could still call it hers. There were bills to pay, orders to fulfill, and emails to respond to, but that wasn’t her job now. Now her job was to enter a rodeo contest and try to win some money to save the ranch.
Marcella Bell was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. She is a registered yoga teacher, an avid reader, a honeybee enthusiast, and a lover of travel, corvids, and karaoke. A wife, mother, and child of a multicultural household, Marcella is especially interested in writing novels that reflect her family history, as well as the people and places she’s known throughout her life.
SECOND CHANCE FOR LOVE by Ginni Conquest is a second chance contemporary romance with just a touch of suspense. It is a quick read with an emotionally satisfying story that kept me turning the pages right up to the HEA.
Rebecca Forrester has been in a world of grey and just going through the motions of her life for the last year since the devastating car wreck that took the love of her life from her.
One night she lays down and an unexpected visitor tells her she needs to be open to change in her heart and life. She wakes with a new determination and willingness to accept change and moves to the vacation town of her youth to open her own bakery.
James Collinson is a successful businessman and single father. He has been focused on his business and son and not looked for any type of permanent relationship since his ex-wife walked out on them ten years ago. When he notices the beautiful woman watching his fleet of fishing boats returning from sea, he is drawn to introduce himself.
Could James be the man that Rebecca was told to be open to? Is there a second chance for both to find love again?
This short book is packed with so many emotions. You feel for Rebecca and her loss, but it quickly moves on to her hope for a new life and the major changes she makes. The secondary characters are fully fleshed and add to Rebecca’s life of change. I must mention there is a wonderful pitbull written into the story. (Love my pitties!) She and James have an instant attraction, but I believe the author does a good job of slowing it down and making the pace more believable. The sex scenes are steamy, but I do not feel they are gratuitous. The added suspense in the story was well done and realistic, but I wish it had been a little more integrated throughout. It almost felt like I was reading a romance and then a romantic suspense. Overall, this is a story you will want to grab for a one sitting, satisfactory second chance contemporary romance read.
I recommend this standalone emotional romance read!
***
About the Author
Born in New Jersey, Ginni Conquest found her love of writing romance two years ago. With a bit of intrigue, scandal, conflict and love, Ginni loves creating these sweet and sexy stories with hotness added in. “I love my characters,” says Ms. Conquest, “and I am so happy when my readers embrace them as well. Like all of us, my heroines and heroes are struggling to cope with life challenges, character flaws, past experiences, painful memories and all the other aspects of life that can make happiness seem elusive.”
Ms. Conquest is a clever storyteller who delivers. Her character development, intrigue and scenes of unbridled passion keep the reader wanting more and hoping for that happy ending that is sealed with a kiss. The passion and courtship with enchanting storytelling is ever-present. Readers can be assured that they will have to read to the final pages to find out exactly how the romance will end…or begin.
For 2021, Ginni will be at TNT/NYC, Romanticon, Lay All Your Books on Me and Books by the Bridge
I had such a great time at the Lay All Your Books On Me: Here We Go Again Author Event at the Cleveland Renaissance! As you can see the dates are wrong on the signage, but that is because last years event ran smack into a pandemic and the great organizers, Connie Shingleton Miconi and Krista Venero and the volunteers, worked on the second attempt this year and it was a SMASH!
First, I received a swag bag full of gifts from the authors for having a VIP ticket. Then, I got to meet so many great authors and the after party was fun with people dancing, taking photos and just sitting around chatting.
This is the list of authors attending the event and the actual date of the event with a group photo of all the authors below:
***
The first part of the day was spent meeting and talking to all the authors and matching author names from their books with their faces. I was very excited to finally meet one particular author who I have been on-line friends with for almost ten years and then I also met many new authors who I hope are new friends going into the future.
***
First table in the door and an author I won a book from on-line before the event was Ginnie Conquest. I enjoyed meeting her, reading her romance and becoming better acquainted at the after party. I hope her writing dream job comes true for her!
***
Next, I got to meet in person Hope Daniels and Alicia Dawn. If you like paranormal romance, check them out. They are fun to talk to and I am looking forward to digging into their books.
***
Next, I have to say I was surprised to find out that two authors, one I wanted to read and one I have read, are one in the same person! Shhhh…. Don’t tell anyone but, Phoebe Alexander with her smokin’ hot and sexy erotic romances and Christian cozy mystery writer K.L. Montgomery look amazing alike. 🙂
***
My next featured author I have been reading for some time. Who doesn’t love a HOT Navy SEAL, intrigue, romance and suspense? And I completely did not realize at first who I was meeting and talking to. Sometimes I am a little slow on the uptake……but Cat Johnson was so great to meet! (And Cat, when you next talk to J.M., she can tell you I showed her all of your books I have on my Kindle.)
***
Last, but definitely not least is my on-line and now in-person author friend J.M. Madden! (Fangirl moment!) I have been reading Jennifer’s books since her first “Lost and Found” series book was published. The characters are all memorable, especially John, and the books are some of my all time favorites. It was a meeting postponed for a year, but it was worth the wait!
***
Door prizes, DJ, dancing, snacks and a bar at the after party where everyone relaxed and got to reconnect. (Sorry, I was too busy talking to take more pictures.)
This was a fun event where I got to meet some great new-to-me authors, besides favorites and I hope more events come to Cleveland soon!
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE QUEEN OF SECOND CHANCES by D.M. Barr on the Providence Book Promotions Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
A tale of a young woman who champions seniors’ hopes and dreams while challenging their worst enemies: regret and abuse.
Carraway (Carra) Quinn is a free-spirited English major confronting an unreceptive job market. Desperate for cash, she reluctantly agrees to her realtor stepmother’s marketing scheme: infiltrate a local senior center as a recreational aide, ingratiate herself with the members, and convince them to sell their homes.
Jay Prentiss is a straitlaced, overprotective elder attorney whose beloved but mentally fragile Nana attends that center.
More creative than mercenary, Carra convinces Jay to finance innovations to the Center’s antiquated programming. Her ingenuity injects new enthusiasm among the seniors, inspiring them to confront and reverse the regrets of their past. An unlikely romance develops.
But when Carra’s memoir-writing class prompts Jay’s Nana to skip town in search of a lost love, the two take off on a cross-country, soul-searching chase that will either deepen their relationship or tear them apart forever.
Genre: Contemporary Sweet Romance, Romcom, Chicklit Published by: Champagne Book Group Publication Date: June 7th 2021 Number of Pages: 204 ISBN: 2940165375545 (ASIN B094GFWG3K)
***
My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
THE QUEEN OF SECOND CHANCES by D.M Barr is a heartwarming standalone contemporary romance/comedy love story packed with memorable characters and humorous dialog. Besides the lovable hero and heroine, there are several seniors to fall in love with as well as canine companions.
Carraway “Carra” Quinn graduated as an English major who wants to write novels and is having difficulty paying her share of the bills where she lives with her best-friend. Her stepmother has pulled her and her sister into a scheme to infiltrate senior facilities to convince them to sell their homes for the equity and downsize. Cara is working at the local senior center as a recreational assistant. She starts a memoir writing class and as she comes to know the seniors and their stories, she refuses to use them to pull herself out of her financial straits.
Jay Prentiss is a successful attorney dealing with the elderly who has political aspirations. Jay’s beloved nana attends the senior center where Carra is working. While Jay is a major contributor, Carra wants to show him it is not the facilities that need his money, but the individual seniors that could use their help and attention.
Carra and Jay both have personal traumas from their childhoods which effect their present lives. Can the two work together to overcome their pasts and get a second chance at love?
This story is a perfectly balanced mix of romance, love, empathy, humor, crazy situations and heart. The romance is realistically paced as Carra and Jay come to know each other and the differences in their styles in helping the seniors. Their past traumas in their childhoods also are dealt with in believable ways. The seniors in the story are people you would find at any senior center. They are not overly quirky or strange, but real people who still have so much to live for and offer. I wanted to adopt them all. Last, but not least there are two canines in this story and having adopted my own AmStaff, I was so happy to see how the author depicted this one. The sex scenes are behind closed doors and not until later in the story at an appropriate time. This is an all-around enjoyable read!
I highly recommend this contemporary romance/comedy!
***
Excerpt
Chapter One
I couldn’t take my eyes off the man. He came barreling into the recreational center at SALAD—Seniors Awaiting Lunch and Dinner, Rock Canyon’s answer to Meals on Wheels—as I sat in the outer office, awaiting my job interview. He was tall, but not too tall. His expensive suit barely concealed an athletic physique that fell just shy of a slavish devotion to muscle mass. Early thirties, I estimated, and monied. Honey-blond curly hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones, chiseled features, gold-rimmed glasses, and of course, dimples. Why did there always have to be dimples? They were my kryptonite, rendering me powerless to resist.
I nicknamed him Adonis, Donny for short, lest anyone accuse me of being pretentious. He was the stuff of every girl’s dreams, especially if that girl was as masochistic as yours truly. Men like that didn’t fall for ordinary girls like me, gals more Cocoa Puff than Coco Chanel, more likely to run their pantyhose than strut the runway. I leaned back on the leather couch, laid down my half-completed application, and prepared to enjoy the view. Then he opened his mouth, and the attraction withered like a popped balloon.
“I want to speak to Judith. Now. Is she here?” The sharpness of his voice put Ginsu knives to shame. It was jagged enough to slash open memories of my mother’s own barely contained temper when refereeing sibling disputes between Nikki and me. Well, at least until she prematurely retired her whistle and skipped town for good.
The attendant working the main desk looked fresh out of nursing school and had obviously missed the lecture on dealing with difficult clients. She sputtered, held up both hands in surrender, and retreated into the administration office, reemerging with an older woman whose guff-be-gone demeanor softened as she got closer. Her name tag read, “Judith Ferester,” the woman scheduled to conduct my interview. She took one look at Donny, sighed as if to say, Here we go again, and plastered on her requisite customer service smile.
“Mr. Prentiss, to what do we owe the honor of this visit?” she asked in a tone sweet enough to make my teeth hurt.
“Judith, I thought we had this discussion before. I trust you to take care of my nana, but day after day, I discover goings-on that are utterly unacceptable. Maybe we shouldn’t have added the senior center, just limited SALAD to meal delivery. Last week you served chips anda roll at lunch? That’s too many carbs. This week, I find someone is duping her out of her pocket change. No one is going to take advantage of her good nature, not under my watch.”
I half-expected him to spit on the ground. Was such venom contagious? I didn’t want my prospective employer in a foul mood when she reviewed my application. I really, really needed this job.
“Mr. Prentiss,” Judith answered, her patronizing smile frozen in place, “I assure you that your championing of our senior center was well founded. The reason your nana isn’t complaining is that she receives the utmost care. She is one of our dearest visitors. Everyone loves her.”
“Tell me then, what is this?” Donny—scratch that, Mr. Prentiss—drew a scrap of paper from his pocket and flung it onto the counter. I leaned forward to make out the object of his disdain. Then, thinking better of it, I relaxed and watched as this melodrama played itself out.
Judith glanced down at the paper. “This? It’s a scoresheet. They play gin for ten cents a hand. We monitor everything that goes on here; your grandmother is not being conned out of her life savings. You have my word.”
Prentiss shook his head so vigorously his gold-rimmed glasses worked their way down to the tip of his perfect nose. He pushed them back with obvious annoyance. Even when he was acting like a jerk, his dimples were captivating. Would they be even more alluring if he smiled? Did he smile…like, ever?
“It’s not the amount that worries me. It’s the act itself. Many seniors here are memory impaired. How can you condone gambling between people who aren’t coherent? Could you please keep a closer eye on things? Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to take my nana—and my support—to the center I’ve heard about across the river.”
Without waiting for Judith’s response, Prentiss departed as brusquely as he’d arrived. Ah, the entitlement of the rich. Walk over everyone, then storm off. He never even noticed my presence. Just as well, considering my purpose for being there. Even if I wasn’t sorry to see the back end of his temper, his rear end was pleasant enough to watch as he exited, I noted with a guilty shudder.
Judith shook her head, rolled her eyes, and let out a huff. Then she noticed me. “I’m so sorry you had to overhear that. I’m the director here. How can I help you?”
“I’m Carraway Quinn. Everyone calls me Carra. I have an appointment for the recreational aide position.”
Judith typed a few keystrokes into the main desk’s computer. “Ah yes, Ms. Quinn. Carraway, like the seed?”
“Something like that,” I said with a smile.
They always guessed, but no one got it right. Some man would, one day. That’s what my mother said a million years ago, when she still lived within earshot. One man would figure it out, and that’s how I’d know he was the one for me. Not that it mattered right now. I had bigger problems than finding a new boyfriend.
“Tell me, would I have to deal with people like that all day?” I tilted my head in the direction of Prentiss’s contrail.
“What can I say? He loves his nana.” Judith shrugged, staring at the door. “Though I’ve never seen him lash out like that before. He’s usually so calm.” She quickly shifted into public relations mode. “Jay Prentiss is one of our biggest contributors. It’s only because of his generosity that we have this senior center and can afford to hire a recreational aide.” She beckoned me into the inner office. “Shall we proceed?”
I followed, but I had my doubts. I belonged in the editorial office of a magazine or on a book tour for my perennially unfinished novel, not at a senior center. This job was my stepmother’s idea, not mine. Calling it an idea was being generous; it was more like a scheme, and the elderly deserved better than someone sent here to deceive them. I was the embodiment of what Jay Prentiss worried about most.
The interview lasted less than ten minutes, as if Judith was going through the formalities but had already decided to hire me. I was to start my orientation the following day. I shook her hand and thanked her, all the while wishing I were anywhere else.
Afterward, I wandered into the recreation area, where I’d be spending most of my time. The room was dingy, teeming with doleful seniors watching television, playing cards, or staring off into space. A few complained among themselves about a jigsaw puzzle they were unable to finish because the last pieces were missing. I wondered how many had lost their spouses and came to the center out of loneliness, their children too busy with their own lives to visit. It was a heartbreaking thought.
Jay Prentiss was complaining about carbs and gambling when he should have been concentrating on ennui. The seniors’ dismal expressions told me they were visiting SALAD more out of desperation than opportunity. It was clear they needed an injection of enthusiasm, not some aide looking to unsettle their lives. It came down to my conscience. Could it triumph against my stepmother’s directives and my plummeting bank account?
***
Author Bio
By day, a mild-mannered salesperson, wife, mother, rescuer of senior shelter dogs, competitive trivia player and author groupie, happily living just north of New York City. By night, an author of sex, suspense and satire. My background includes stints in travel marketing, travel journalism, meeting planning, public relations and real estate. I was, for a long and happy time, an award-winning magazine writer and editor. Then kids happened. And I needed to actually make money. Now they’re off doing whatever it is they do (of which I have no idea since they won’t friend me on Facebook) and I can spend my spare time weaving tales of debauchery and whatever else tickles my fancy. The main thing to remember about my work is that I am NOT one of my characters. For example, as a real estate broker, I’ve never played Bondage Bingo in one of my empty listings or offed anyone at my local diet clinic. And I haven’t run away from home in fear that my husband was planning to off me. But that’s not to say that I haven’t wanted to…
Today I am once again posting on the Harlequin Trade Publishing Beach Reads Summer 2021 Blog Tour. I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for TALK BOOKISH TO ME by Kate Bromley.
Below you will find an author Q&A, a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!
***
Author Q&A
Q: Please give the elevator pitch for Talk Bookish to Me.
A: Talk Bookish to Me is a contemporary romantic comedy that follows a bestselling romance novelist with writer’s block who suddenly finds herself inspired when she’s thrown together with her infuriating first love during the week of her best friend’s wedding.
Q: Which came first: the characters or plot line?
A: The characters! I had no idea what I was writing when I first started my manuscript, but I did know that the story was going to be about a quirky romance novelist in NYC who has an unexpected reunion with her college ex-boyfriend that she never forgot.
Q: Why do you love Kara and Ryan and why should readers root for them?
A: I love Kara and Ryan and readers should root for them because they refuse to give up on each other. It would be way easier for both of them to go their separate ways and move on with their lives, but there’s so much chemistry and history and genuine connection between them that no matter what, they just can’t get past it and, deep down, they don’t want to get past it. They also make each other laugh and absolutely light up when they’re together. They challenge each other to grow as people and to become the best versions of themselves, and I think that’s always something worth rooting for.
Q: What was your last 5 star read?
A: Ah, there’s so many! The ones that stick out the most to me at the moment are The Hating Game by Sally Thorne, Simmer Down by Sarah Smith, and The Trouble with Hating You by Sajni Patel.
Q: What is one thing about publishing you wish someone would have told you?
A: That it’s a much longer road than you think. But the good news is, it’s also very much worth it! Once you go from writing your book, to then querying, to then being on submission — there’s a ton of hard work and then a lot of waiting and hoping. And even though the whole process is a very nerve-racking experience, it’s also extremely exciting and you will learn so much about yourself and the publishing industry.
***
Book Description
Inspiration can come from the most unlikely—and inconvenient—sources.
Kara Sullivan’s life is full of love—albeit fictional. As a bestselling romance novelist and influential bookstagrammer, she’s fine with getting her happily-ever-after fix between the covers of a book.
But right now? Not only is Kara’s best friend getting married next week—which means big wedding stress—but the deadline for her next novel is looming, and she hasn’t written a single word. The last thing she needs is for her infuriating first love, Ryan Thompson, to suddenly appear in the wedding party. But Ryan’s unexpected arrival sparks a creative awakening in Kara that inspires the steamy historical romance she desperately needs to deliver.
With her wedding duties intensifying, her deadline getting closer by the second and her bills not paying themselves, Kara knows there’s only one way for her to finish her book and to give her characters the ever-after they deserve. But can she embrace the unlikely, ruggedly handsome muse—who pushes every one of her buttons—to save the wedding, her career and, just maybe, write her own happy ending?
TALK BOOKISH TO ME by Kate Bromley is an enjoyable new contemporary rom/com with plenty of romance industry love and a couple that is meant to be, maybe. I was surprised to learn this is the debut novel by this author.
Kara Sullivan is a thirty-year-old bestselling historical romance author who is having a difficult time writing her current romance. With a deadline looming and no inspiration, she is also dealing with being the bride’s maid in her best friend’s wedding. Then the groom shows up with her first true love from college as a groomsman in his party.
Ryan Thompson’s unexpected arrival sparks Kara’s writing. Should she let Ryan, who pushes every one of her buttons back into her life to inspire her romance and just maybe grab a happily ever after for herself this time around?
I loved following Kara’s emotional journey through this rom/com. Her interactions with her family and friends felt believable and the writing flowed through all the ups and downs seamlessly. I enjoyed her defense of the romance industry as she sparred with Ryan. All of their dialogue is witty and realistic. I also enjoyed the inserted portions of the historical romance she was attempting to write.
I write spoiler free reviews, so this next bit is difficult. I was cheering Ryan on until a major plot point. Now, I can say he redeems himself in my opinion in the end because real life is messy and forgiveness is often necessary. I would cry foul in a romance genre book because I hate what he does, but this is a rom/com and does not necessarily follow the same rules.
I enjoyed this debut rom/com, the great characters and will be looking for more from this author.
***
Excerpt
One
“Wait, was I supposed to bring a gift?”
I turn my gaze from the floor to the well-dressed man standing beside me. There are only two of us in the elevator, so he must be talking to me.
“I think it’s a matter of personal preference,” I answer. “I’m the maid of honor so I had to be excessive.”
His eyebrows bob up as I adjust my grip on the Great-Dane-sized gift basket I’m carrying. The cellophane wrapping paper crinkles each time I move, echoing through the confined space just loudly enough to keep things weird. Because if everyone isn’t uncomfortable for the entire ride, are you even really in an elevator?
I’m low-key ecstatic when the doors glide open ten seconds later. With my basket now on the cusp of breaking both my arms and my spirit, I beeline it out of there and stride into the rooftop lounge where my best friend is hosting her pre-wedding party, drinking in the scent of heat and champagne as I maneuver through the sea of guests.
Like most maids-of-honor, I flung myself down the Etsy rabbit hole headfirst and ordered an obscene amount of decorations for tonight’s event. Burlap “Mr. & Mrs.” banners dangle from floating shelves behind the bar as twinkle lights weave around the balcony railings like ivy. Lace-trimmed mason jars filled with pink roses sit on every candlelit cocktail table. Cristina and I worked with the tenacity of two matrimonial Spartans to get everything ready this morning, and it’s clear that our blood, sweat and tears were very much worth it.
It’s then that I spot Cristina mingling near the end of the bar. Beautiful, petite and come-hither curvy, I’d hate her if she weren’t one of my favorite people ever. Her caramel hair spills down her back and her white high-low dress sets her apart from the crowd in just the right way—she’s a princess in the forest and we’re her adoring woodland animals. I’m her feisty chipmunk sidekick to my core.
I place my gift on a nearby receiving table and give a little wave when I catch her eye. She’s waiting for me with a huge grin when I arrive at her side.
“Hey, lady!” she says, pulling me in for a hug. “Look at you, rolling in here looking all gorgeous.”
We step apart and I stand up a bit taller. “Why, thank you. I feel pretty good.”
It’s also very possible that Cristina is just so used to me dazzling the world with yoga pants and sweaters every day that my transformation seems more dramatic than it is.
“Were you able to get any writing done this afternoon?” she asks, handing me a glass of champagne from off the mahogany bar top.
I get a twisting knot in my gut at the mention of my writing, or lack thereof. Having been dying a slow literary death for almost a year, I’m never without some stomach-turning sensation for long. The final deadline for my next romance
novel is officially a month away and if I don’t deliver a bestseller by then—
“Okay, you’re making your freak-out face,” Cristina interjects. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I inhale a shallow breath and force a smile. “It’s fine. I’m good.”
“Let’s switch gears—are you sure it’s not weird that I’m having a pre-wedding party? Was booking the salsa band too much since I’m having one at the wedding, too?”
Beyond grateful for the booming trumpet and bongos that are drowning out my own thoughts, I turn to the corner and find the ten-piece group playing with addictive abandon. Cristina’s relatives, who are essentially non-trained professional salsa dancers, dominate the dance floor, and rightfully so. Cristina’s brother, Edgar, once tried to teach me the basics but I’m fairly confident I looked like a plank of wood that was given the gift of limbs. Cristina recommended dance lessons. Edgar suggested a bottle of aguardiente and prayer.
“The band is amazing,” I say as I swing back around, “and of course people have pre-wedding parties.” I’ve actually never heard of a pre-wedding party. An engagement party, yes. A bachelorette party, absolutely. But what’s going down tonight is basically a casual reception days before the mega-reception.
“Jason and I just have so many people coming in from out of town, plus we wanted the bridal party to get acquainted. We figured a little get-together would be fun.”
“I’m all for it. Who doesn’t want to pre-game for a wedding a week in advance?”
“I know I do,” Cristina says, lifting her own champagne and taking a sip. “Everyone is here except Jason and some groomsmen. Can you believe that creep is late to his own party?”
“Should you really be calling your fiancé a creep?”
“He’s my creep so it’s okay.”
“Valid point.”
“Picture please! Will you girls get together?”
I look to my right and find a teenage boy with wildly curly hair pointing a camera at us. He’s dressed in all black and looks so eager to take our photo that I can’t help but to find him endearing.
“Absolutely! Big smile, Kara.” Cristina throws her arm around my waist and after we withstand an intense flash, the young man is gone before my eyes can readjust. “That was Jason’s cousin, Rob. He wants to be a photographer, so I hired him for the night.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” I say, still recovering from my momentary blindness. “By the way, where is Jason?”
“He’s still at home. Two of his groomsmen are driving up and he wanted to wait for them since, apparently, grown men can’t find their way to a party by themselves.”
“Driving in Manhattan is intimidating. He probably didn’t want them to get lost.”
“Right, because neither of them has GPS? Jason should be here.”
I’m honestly shocked that Jason isn’t here. I love Cristina and Jason both to death but they’re one of those couples that rarely go out socially without each other. Even when I invite Cristina over to my apartment for a wine night, she asks to bring Jason. I’ve always thought it was a bit much, but I guess it works for them.
“Okay, forget everyone else, let’s toast.” I clear my throat and hold up my champagne. “When we were both waitressing at McMahon’s Pub in grad school, I had no idea it would lead to nine amazing years of friendship. Now I’d be lost without you. Here’s to you having a magical night. I’m so glad I’m here to celebrate with you.”
We smile and tap our glasses together, the ding of the crystal echoing my words.
I take a sip and the bubbly drink slips easily down my throat. Still savoring the sweetness, I ask, “So, who are these mystery groomsmen Jason’s waiting for?”
“One is named Beau and I can’t remember the other one. They’re two guys he grew up with when his family lived in North Carolina.”
“North Carolina? I thought Jason was from Texas?”
“He spent most of his life in Texas, but he lived in North Carolina until he was ten. He somehow kept in contact with these two through the years.”
“That’s nice, him staying friends with them for so long.”
“Yeah, it’s adorable, but they still should have gotten their asses here on their own.” Cristina is poised to elaborate when her gaze locks on something across the room. She tries and fails to look annoyed instead of excited.
“I’m guessing the groom has arrived,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. My suspicions are confirmed as I see Jason making his way toward us, smiling at Cristina like a fifth grader saying “cheese” on picture day. He’s tilting his head and everything.
“There she is! There’s my incredibly forgiving future wife.” Jason leans down and kisses Cristina before she can verbally obliterate him. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek next and then shifts back to his fiancée’s side, sneaking an arm around her waist and pulling her to his hip.
“So, I’m going to go ahead and disregard all the semi-violent text messages you’ve sent me over the past hour. Bearing that in mind, how’s everything going?”
Cristina looks up at him, feigning disinterest. “It’s going great. Since you weren’t here, I talked to several nice men. Turns out, pre-wedding parties are a great place to meet guys.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“I appreciate that. Four contenders, specifically, really piqued my interest.”
“Are they taller than me?” Jason asks. “Do they make a lot of money?”
“Obviously. They’re way taller and all of them are independently wealthy.”
“Nice. Kara, did you meet these freakishly tall and rich men?”
“I did and spoiler alert, I’m engaged now, too! Double wedding here we come!”
Jason smiles and pulls Cristina in even closer, his gaze holding hers. “I guess this is where being late gets you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Do you forgive me?”
“Don’t I always?”
He leans down and gives her another picture-perfect kiss.
It’s official. I’m dying alone. Just putting that out there.
“Now, where are these friends of yours? Oh! Let’s set one of them up with Kara!” Cristina looks at me with a dangerous matchmaker gleam in her eyes.
“Actually, I already mentioned Kara, and one of my buddies said he went to college with her.”
Went to college with me?
Jason looks towards the entrance and waves. “Hey, Ryan! Come over here!”
And then I go catatonic. I can’t move. I stand stock still, looking at Cristina like she sprouted a third arm out of her forehead and it’s giving me the middle finger.
Someone walks past me and a soft breeze ghosts across my overheating skin. I stare in a state of utter disbelief as Ryan Thompson steps into view beside Jason.
“It’s been a while, Sullivan,” he says, his voice as steady and tempting as ever.
My champagne glass falls from my fingers and shatters against the floor.
“Kara?” Cristina’s voice rings with concern as she nudges us away from the broken glass that’s now littered around our feet. She grasps my elbow, but I don’t feel it. She could backhand me across the face with a polo mallet and I wouldn’t feel it. My mind is spiraling, plummeting inwards as I come to grips with the realization that Ryan is standing two feet away from me.
Dressed in a navy suit, a crisp white button-down and brown dress shoes, he’s come a long way from the sweatshirts and jeans that were his unofficial uniform in college. His dirty-blond hair is on the shorter side, but a few wayward strands still fall across his forehead. Ten years ago, I would have reached up and brushed them aside without a thought. Now, my hand curls into a tight, unforgiving fist at my side.
If we were another former couple, seeing each other for the first time in a decade might be a dreamy, serendipitous meet-cute—a Nancy Meyers movie in pre-production. We’d have a few drinks and spend hours reminiscing about old times before picking up right where we left off. It would be comfortable and familiar as anything, like a sip of hot chocolate at Christmas with Nat King Cole crooning on vinyl in the background.
But we are not that kind of former couple, and I’m convinced that if Nat King Cole were here and knew my side of the story, he would grab Ryan by the scruff of his shirt and hold him steady as I roundhouse-kicked him in the throat.
It’s a tough pill to swallow but Ryan looks good. Like, really good. His face is harder than it was when he was twenty-one and the stubble on his chin tells me he hasn’t shaved in a few days, making him seem like he just rolled out of bed. And not rolled out of bed in a dirty way, but in a “I just rolled out of bed and yet I still look ruggedly handsome and you fully want to make out with me” kind of way.
The bastard.
“Ryan,” Cristina says, always the first to jump in, “Jason mentioned that you and Kara went to college together.”
“We did.” His eyes don’t move from mine for even a second. “It’s got to be what, ten years now?”
“Yeah, it’s been a long, long time,” I say quickly, turning to face Cristina. “I think I may have mentioned him before. Remember my friend from North Carolina?”
If someone were to look up “my friend from North Carolina” in the Dictionary of Kara, they would find the following:
My friend from North Carolina (noun): 1. Ryan Thompson. 2. My college boyfriend. 3. My first real boyfriend ever. 4. My first love. 5. Taker of my virginity. 6. Guy who massacred my heart with a rusty sledgehammer and fed the remains to rabid, ravenous dogs.
Cristina is well versed in the dictionary of Kara and recognition washes over her. “No way,” she says, her voice dropping.
“Yes way,” I answer happily, overcompensating.
Now’s it’s Cristina’s turn to panic. “Wow. Okay, wow, what a small world, huh?” She grabs Jason’s hand in an iron grip, making him wince as she blasts an over-the-top smile. “Well, we should give you guys a chance to catch up. My abuelita just got here so Jason and I are going to say hello.”
“Your abuelita died two years ago,” I hiss.
“I know, it’s a miracle. See you two later!” She drags her soon-to-be husband away before he can get a word out.
I watch them go, sailing away like the last lifeboat as I stand on deck with the string quartet, the cheerful Bach melody only further confirming that this ship is going down.
KATE BROMLEY lives in New York City with her husband, son, and her somewhat excessive collection of romance novels (It’s not hoarding if it’s books, right?). She was a preschool teacher for seven years and is now focusing full-time on combining her two great passions – writing swoon-worthy love stories and making people laugh. Talk Bookish to Me is her first novel.
