Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Torching by Kerry Peresta

The Torching

by Kerry Peresta

May 8 – June 2, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE TORCHING (Olivia Callahan Suspense Book #3) by Kerry Peresta on this Partners In Crime Book 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 Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!

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Book Description

Mysterious fires. A haunting past. A secret file.

Three years ago, Olivia Callahan endured an assault that resulted in a devastating brain injury. She survived, but she couldn’t remember anything about her life or who she was. Now, she’s determined to build a bridge between the past she lost and the life she must reclaim.

When Olivia crosses paths with PI Tom Stark, she is drawn to the investigative field, and becomes his intern. She finds a heavily redacted, forty-five-year-old file locked in his desk drawer that mentions her mother as a young woman. Why had her mentor hidden the file from her, and why had he never mentioned a case involving her mother?

As Olivia moves forward with her fledgling career, a string of mysterious fires moves through the community, puzzling the Baltimore Arson Investigative Unit. One of the fires strikes Olivia’s beloved farmhouse in rural Maryland. Now, in addition to uncovering the secrets bound within the redacted file, she becomes convinced that the fires happening around the area are disturbing calling cards…and they’re meant for her.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123230539-the-torching?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=9ubnsNg1v5&rank=1

The Torching

Genre: Traditional mystery or Suspense
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: March 2023
Number of Pages: 323
ISBN: 978-1-68512-323-9
Series: The Olivia Callahan Suspense series, 3 | Each is a Stand Alone Novel

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My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE TORCHING (Olivia Callahan Suspense Book #3) by Kerry Peresta is a suspense filled P.I. mystery featuring Olivia Callahan who is three years out from a traumatic brain injury. This is the third book in the series, but it can be read as a standalone book. The Torching features her working in her new profession as a P.I., while the previous two books, The Awakening and The Rising while suspense/thrillers also are focused on her recovery and the rebuilding of her life as she works to discover who harmed her.

With the passing of her P.I. mentor, Tom Stark, Olivia discovers a 45-year-old redacted file that mentions her mother’s name. Her mother has never mentioned any past connection to Tom or Tom to her.

Even as she works to discover the secrets from the old file, she is the victim of arson. Several more fires are set in her community and after the fires, she receives a bouquet of flowers from someone with ties to the on-line Facebook group who follow her because of her fame.

Arson, political corruption, family secrets, obsession and murder all come together in this mystery.

I enjoyed the continuing evolution of Oliva, both personally and professionally. I feel all the characters are fully fleshed and believable, but I have read the previous two books and it does make it slightly easier to keep track of all the family and friends. I am a dog lover and love the addition of Marlowe, Olivia’s rescue dog. There are several mysteries all intertwined with surprising plot twists and gripping suspense.

This is an engaging addition to the series, and I am looking forward to seeing where the author takes Olivia next.

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Excerpt

Smoke assailed us halfway up my long, winding, driveway. A dingy, gray film coated my windshield. I jabbed the brake to slow down, but my trembling foot slipped off the brake. Lilly gave me a look that broke my heart. 

The surging, ballooning smoke hurled itself at us like angry fog. Visibility fell to near-zero the longer I drove. I slowed to a crawl. We inched along the lane until the strobing white-and-red lights cut through the smoke. I counted two fire engines and one black SUV on the lane as I approached. A couple of firefighters raced into my house. My door lay on the porch in three pieces, and an  axe was propped against the wall. Each firefighter wore oxygen tanks attached to large, anteater-shaped masks. With their cumbersome, reflective-striped protective gear and masks, they looked more suited to step on the moon than inside my beloved Maryland farmhouse. 

I brought my car to a shuddering halt.

We stepped out. I put my arm around Lilly.

Vaporous clouds of smoke cloaked my house. A couple of firefighters worked with giant, yellow firehoses. The men had divided themselves into teams, and the muted shouts told me some of them were behind the house. Flames leapt toward the sky from the backside of the roof. I counted six firefighters working on the house that I could see—plus the ones in the back. Tears trickled down my cheeks, and a terrifying thought struck—what about my cat? 

“Lilly,” I said, my voice shaky, “Where was Riot when you last saw him?”

Lily’s face went white. “Mom…”

I grabbed her by the shoulders. “No, no…Riot’s smart. He will have found safety. I’ll find him. Stay here.”

 I ran across the yard to a woman dressed in navy slacks and a white shirt with metal glinting on the front and official-looking patches on the arms. “I’m the owner,” I yelled over the whump of igniting flames, batting my way through smoke.

She shook my hand and identified herself as the public information officer. “Sorry to meet under these circumstances, but glad you were out of the home. We have it controlled. The team inside is checking to make sure it was contained. As far as we can tell, the seat of the fire is in the attic. Give us thirty minutes, okay? But ma’am, I’ll need you to stay back. Our investigator will be here soon. She’ll let you know when it’s safe to go inside.”

“My cat’s in there,” I yelled. “Can you have someone look for him?” 

She spoke into a radio. 

The smoke started to let up. Three hoses trained on the roof gushed out torrents of water. The huge flames stretching into the sky began to shrink. Radio chatter stuttered around the space. The firefighters stayed in constant contact, radios slung across their chests with a strap that held a mic. 

These guys would not know where to look for Riot. 

With an apologetic glance at Lilly, I skirted around the trucks, avoided the PIO, and dashed across the yard, up the front porch stairs, and into the house.

“MOM,” Lilly wailed through the billowy smoke.

Coughing, I ran inside. “Riot,” I screamed. “Riot, I’m here, buddy.”

I looked behind the couch. Underneath the dining room table. On top of his cat tree. Underneath the wingback chair. He wasn’t in any of his favorite spots. I plowed through the murkiness and melting sheetrock.

A bullhorn blared, “Ma’am. We need you to exit the building.” “Now!”

My throat was closing. My eyes stung like crazy. I needed to find him and get the heck out. 

I scrambled into the kitchen and opened the lower cupboards, then the uppers. Searched the seats of the barstools, underneath the kitchen table. My heart thrashed like a wrecking ball in my chest. “Riot? I’m here, boy. Come on out,” I begged. A timid sound reached my ears. I waited. I heard it again, louder. 

A shaggy, orange head appeared on top of the cabinets. I climbed up, grabbed him, and raced out the back door. The backyard firefighter team made group gestures that  I interpreted as  ‘get the hell out of here and let us do our job, ma’am’. 

I zigzagged through the first responder obstacle course to my car, blinded by the strobing lights. Lilly spurted fresh tears and held out her arms for Riot. We watched in silence as the flames soared into the sky. After a while, we heard less commotion from the firefighters and the smoke around us grew white and wispy. 

A very red-faced PIO barreled toward me. “I need you to stay out of the house until our investigator has completed the investigation.”

I wiped my sooty hands on my pants. “Your guys wouldn’t have found my cat. Riot would have been scared to death by the way they look. I didn’t have a choice.”

She told me the fire investigator had arrived, and under no circumstances was I to enter the home without her permission.

Lilly held Riot tight against her chest. 

“Thought you hated this cat,” I joked.

“Whatever, Mom,” she said. 

 A small, thickset, woman with short hair approached. 

 “Mrs. Callahan?” 

 “It’s Ms. I’m the owner.”

“Good news, Ms. Callahan. The rear quadrant of the roof and attic sustained most of the damage. The firefighters are checking the ceiling of the second floor now, for hot spots. I think you got lucky.”

“It didn’t spread?”

She smiled her assurances. “They’re going to clean up here and have a final look around. They’ll let me know when it’s safe to go in.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Tasha Jackson, fire investigator. I work with these goofballs.” She grinned.

I shook her hand. 

In the background, firefighters wrapped hoses. A couple of them worked the hydrant. Another walked the perimeter of my home. Instead of the burble of radios, most of them had ditched the headgear. A man got out of the black SUV and strode toward the PIO. After a few minutes of speaking with her, he approached me. He introduced himself as the Battalion Chief, told me he was sorry the fire had interrupted such an important occasion, and if there was anything they could do…to call the PIO. She wiggled her fingers at me, then went to talk to the camera crews and TV reporters that had crashed the scene. His expression somber, the Battalion Chief handed me his business card.

“If you need them, Red Cross services are available for three nights at a local motel and $600 gift cards for each displaced person. Please contact your insurance company immediately, they’ll do their own investigation.”

I gave him a blank look and took his card. 

“Our investigator will talk about next steps, and ask you some questions to complete her report. Please remember not to go inside the area of damage alone, Ms. Callahan. Do you have somewhere to stay?” 

With a sigh, I glanced over my shoulder toward my compact, office on the corner of Worthington Avenue and my property. I could stay in the office guest bedroom, and Lilly could stay at my neighbor’s house. “Yeah. We do. Is the…do you think the bedrooms in my house are okay? Can we get some clothes?” 

He yelled a couple of names and asked them to check. They walked toward my house. The porch that stretched across the front of my house looked as if someone couldn’t decide whether to drown it or blow it up. 

The public information officer waved off the reporters as she walked in my direction. One of the firefighters stared at me so long it became uncomfortable.  I groaned. Was he one of them? A cult fan of the ‘Mercy’s Miracle’ persona? Why had I thought it was a good idea to write a book? After the publisher’s marketing department flew me all over the country for publicity events, the book hit the bestseller list and stayed there. The story of my survival and struggle to re-create my life had developed a rabid following.

I gave the firefighter a hard stare. He dropped his gaze. Reporters screamed questions at me from a distance. The PIO did her best to keep them under control.

I longed for a normal life. 

My mind flew back. I closed my eyes, remembering.

The first few days, waking up in the hospital panicked and breathless and unable to move; the second week, when I’d begun to see flickers of light, the third week, when my fingers twitched and hope sprang to life. Neurology interns stealing in and out of my room at odd hours to see the ‘miracle’ restoration. I remembered my daughters’ first visits and the terrified looks on their faces when they realized I didn’t remember them. The fourth and fifth weeks, when physical therapists did everything they could to help restore my mobility and speech.

I could still visualize the reporters closing in on me. Waving their microphones in my face before I could even form a coherent sentence. I remembered watching my mom herding my daughters to my room on the fifth floor of the hospital, and the television crews that formed a tight knot around them as they made their way to the entrance of the hospital.  

My youngest daughter had burst into my hospital room with an excited smile. “Reporters are dying to talk to you, Mom! Get ready.”

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. 

Reporters were a plague to be avoided, now.

“Olivia? Are you okay?” The PIO looked at me in concern.
I blinked. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m okay.”

She held out her cell. “Create contact info for me?”

I entered my number, and my neighbor Callie’s, for good measure. The two firefighters that had inspected the bedrooms returned with a thumbs-up. “Bedrooms look good. Stairs are intact.”

The PIO smiled at me, tilted her head toward the reporters. “I didn’t realize you were that Olivia Callahan.”

I attempted a smile. She was trying to be nice. She had no idea that I hated the notoriety.

She handed me her card. “If you need anything. I mean it.” She left.

 Lilly put her hand on my shoulder. “Mom? Everybody’s leaving. Now what?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. How do I accept this new reality?

***

Author Bio

Kerry Peresta is the author of the Olivia Callahan Suspense series. “The Torching,” book three, releases March, 2023, and books four and five in 2024 and 2025. Her standalone suspense thriller, “Back Before Dawn,” releases May, 2023. Additional writing credits include a popular newspaper and e-zine humor column, “The Lighter Side,” (2009—2011); the short story “The Day the Migraine Died,” published in Rock, Roll, and Ruin: A Triangle Sisters in Crime Anthology, articles published in Local Life Magazine, The Bluffton Breeze, Lady Lowcountry, and Island Events Magazine. She is past chapter president of the Maryland Writers’ Association and a current member and presenter of the Pat Conroy Literary Center, Hilton Head Island Writers’ Network, South Carolina Writers Association, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers. Kerry is the mother of four adult children, and spent thirty years in advertising as an account manager, creative director, copywriter, and editor. When she’s not writing, you’ll find her working out, riding her bike or kayaking, enjoying the beaches of Hilton Head Island, or cuddling her two cats, Agnes and Felix. She and her husband moved to Hilton Head Island in 2015.

Social Media Links

www.KerryPeresta.net
Goodreads
BookBub – @kerryperesta
Instagram – @kerryperesta
Twitter – @kerryperesta
Facebook – @klperesta

Purchase Links 

Amazon  

Goodreads

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KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY LINK

https://kingsumo.com/g/xp3nxk/the-torching-by-kerry-peresta

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Boyfriend Candidate by Ashley Winstead

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE BOYFRIEND CANDIDATE by Ashley Winstead on this Summer 2023 HTP Books Blog Tour.

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

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Book Description

As a shy school librarian, Alexis Stone is comfortable keeping out of the spotlight. But when she’s dumped for being too meek—in bed!—she decides she needs to change. And what better way to kick-start her new more adventurous life than with her first one-night stand?

Enter Logan, the gorgeous, foul-mouthed stranger she meets at a hotel bar. Audacious and filterless, Logan is Alexis’s opposite—and boy, do opposites attract! Just as she’s about to fulfill her hookup wish, the hotel catches fire in a freak lightning storm. In their rush to escape, Logan is discovered carrying her into the street, where people are waiting with cameras. Cameras Logan promptly—and shockingly—flees.

Alexis is bewildered until suddenly pictures of her and Logan escaping the fire are all over the internet. Turns out Logan is none other than Logan Arthur, the hotshot candidate challenging the Texas governor’s seat. The salacious scandal is poised to sink his career—and jeopardize Alexis’s job—until a solution is proposed: he and Alexis could pretend to be in a relationship until election day…in two months. What could possibly go wrong?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62197594-the-boyfriend-candidate?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=XsvDK4ZlEV&rank=1

The Boyfriend Candidate

By Ashley Winstead 

On Sale May 9, 2023

Graydon House 

Paperback Original

ISBN: 9781525804960

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My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE BOYFRIEND CANDIDATE by Ashley Winstead is an absolute treat of a fake romance/rom-com contemporary romance featuring a shy, book loving school librarian and a foul-mouthed, audacious politician running for office. Opposites attract in this slow burn fake romance.

Alexis Stone has always preferred books over people and has a job she loves as a school librarian. When her boyfriend cheats on her for a second time and blames her, she is determined to change her life. She gets dressed up and goes out looking for a one-night stand. When she is hit on by an obnoxious drunk, the gorgeous man next to her at the bar rescues her.

Logan Arthur just wants some down time and stops for a drink after work in the bar by his office. He stands up to the obnoxious man hitting on the woman next him at the bar and finds he loves listening to her stories. As they go to leave, both find they want each other. But when a lightening strike starts a fire in the hotel, they find themselves outside, half dressed, and Logan takes off, leaving Alexis when the photographers start taking pictures.

Logan is single and running for Governor and the scandal of coming out of a hotel with a woman brings up his playboy history, so his campaign finds Alexis and proposes a fake relationship just until the election in two months.

I really loved the opposites attract dynamic between Alexis and Logan. They both learned from each other how to be bold and when to hold back, while both were trying to get beyond being hurt by others in the past. While there is plenty of romance, it is a slow burn with a love triangle thrown in three quarters of the way through the story. I felt the entire romance plot moved at a believable pace with no sex scenes until almost the end of the story, but plenty of chemistry between the H/h. The election and campaign issues added interest to the overall story, also. All the characters are fully fleshed and believable. This is an overall enjoyable read with fun characters, dialogue, and plot.

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Excerpt

Alexis Stone Is Not a Mouse

I’LL SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT MY EX CHRIS TUTTLE: the man was the entire reason I was here, standing at the entrance to the sultry Fleur de Lis hotel bar, wearing a red dress so plunging I kept it in the back of my closet for fear of scandalizing visitors, on the verge of reinventing myself. The memory of Chris and the still-fresh psychic wounds he’d left me were like a marching drum line urging me forward as I’d left my apartment, Ubered downtown to the Fleur de Lis, and cut a determined path across the lobby to the bar, a place with a reputation as Austin’s Grand Central Station of hookups. Unfortunately, now that I was standing at the entrance, the sight of all the laughing, drinking, dazzling people—dressed to the nines like me, but looking much more at ease about it—had me momentarily cowed.

I thought back to what Chris said the day I discovered he was cheating on me (for the second time): “I do have needs you can’t satisfy. You should really learn to be more adventurous in bed, Lex. You’re like a timid little mouse. It can get really boring.” Remembering those words, I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. I was not a boring mouse—or at least I wouldn’t be one anymore. Starting tonight, I was going to be a new version of Alexis Stone: as bold and adventurous as my flaming-red dress.

I tried to soak in the beauty of the bar while beelining through the crowded tables, anxious to leave the peculiar spotlight of being the only person standing among a bunch of cozy, seated people. But then I realized new Alexis wouldn’t care if everyone’s eyes flitted to her as she walked across a room—in fact, new Alexis would welcome it, because she’d spent nearly an hour straightening and then recurling her hair into movie star ringlets, and maybe that effort should be appreciated. I forced myself to slow and look up at the bar’s gorgeous glass ceiling, shaded a twinkly blue thanks to the night sky. Real palm trees lined the circular perimeter, fronds reaching toward the stars. They made the bar look like a very urbane urban jungle, which actually wasn’t too far off the mark.

My older sister, Lee, and her friends liked to roll their eyes at the entire downtown bar scene, calling places like the Fleur de Lis “meat markets where you go to spend thirty-five bucks on a martini while beating back horny yuppies” (Lee’s words). They preferred the hipster bars on the east side of Austin, where the clientele was cooler yet dirtier (my words). I thought the Fleur de Lis was romantic, so it made sense to come here tonight for my critical but one hundred percent private mission: I, Alexis Rosalie Stone, was going to have my first one-night stand. I was going to sleep with a man with no strings attached, no stakes or expectations: just one night to do whatever felt right. Alexis the unadventurous bore? I’d killed her and buried the body.

The gleaming brass bar was crowded, but I managed to slip a shoulder between two men and catch the bartender’s attention. “Vodka martini,” I said, feeling a sudden rebellious compulsion to do anything that would raise my sister’s eyebrows. By the time my drink came, I’d completed a full three-sixty swivel in my barstool to survey the sea of men for potential candidates. How exactly did one negotiate a one-night stand? Did you lead with it in conversation so all your cards were on the table (“Hi, I’m Alexis; you might be interested to know I’m trolling for a stranger to ravish me”), or did you hold back, let your intention slip out at just the right moment (“I see you’re ordering an Uber home; could I interest you in going splitsies back to my place for a wild night of sex”)?

I braced a hand on the bar, taking a fortifying sip of my martini. Even if I made a complete fool of myself tonight—even if I was roundly rejected by every man I spoke to—coming here alone at least meant Lee and her crew couldn’t witness my flop, then use it to skewer me for all eternity like the jackals they were.

A whistle cut through the bar’s ambient noise, followed by a loud, “Now that’s a dress.” Out of nowhere, a man appeared and sidled up beside me. One look at him and my mind blurted forehead! Probably because his was shiny as a disco ball, framed by waggling eyebrows, and tilted all the way to the side. The next second, I realized his head was turned that way so he could get a clear view down my dress.

“Thanks.” I placed a protective hand over my chest and swiveled in the opposite direction. Hoping my body language would signal my disinterest, I took another sip of my martini and studied the empty corner of the room like it was fascinating.

No such luck. “I’m Carter Randall,” the man said, jutting out his hand. “What’s your name?”

My deep desire for him to go away warred with my silly lifelong compulsion to be nice. “Um…” I twisted back to shake his oddly moist hand and searched for inspiration. My gaze snagged, as his clearly had, on my dress. “Ruby…” The next word came unbidden. “Dangerfield. Ruby Dangerfield.” Curse my polite hardwiring that had me sitting here inventing a new name instead of dismissing him with something cool and clipped like, “Not interested.”

Carter gave my hand a little squeeze. He was twice my age, probably well into his fifties. Well-dressed, with a massive gold watch on his wrist, and—now that I squinted—a strangely sweaty face, like he’d just done a lap. Was he on party drugs? He used his sleeve to mop his forehead and I pulled my hand away, resisting the urge to wipe it on my dress. Carter’s eyes drifted down the length of my body yet again. “Well, Ms. Ruby. Can I buy you a drink? A stiff one?” He grinned.

“Oh,” I said. “That’s very nice. But—um—no thank you.” Inside, I burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Saying no to anyone, even a stranger, stretched the limits of my bravery.

“Aw, come on.” Carter leaned in closer and I scooted back so fast I nearly tipped over. “Look at you, sitting there in that dress. Clearly fishing for attention. Well, you caught me. Let’s get you drunk and see what happens.”

Apparently, I was going to get a lesson in how not to proposition someone tonight. But my cheeks were burning, because in a small way Carter was right—I had come here to put myself on display and find someone, just very much not him. Be the new Alexis, I urged myself. Stop prioritizing this stranger’s feelings and tell him to leave you alone. But I couldn’t—at the slightest provocation, old, sad, doormat Alexis had quickly jumped back in charge.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” I said carefully, feeling my heartbeat spike. “I would just like to be by myself tonight.” Well, shoot. Now that I’d committed to that, would I have to leave the bar so Carter didn’t catch me talking to anyone else later? My palms started sweating.

“One drink—” he started.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” came a voice, tinged with an accent I couldn’t place—British mixed with Texas panhandle? I nearly knocked over my martini. “She said no, mate. Get it through your thick skull and leave the poor woman alone.”

Carter spun to get a look at the man who’d interrupted us, and without his body blocking the view, I got a clear line, too. My stomach flipped over and released a conservatory’s worth of butterflies. Even wearing a look of contempt, the man on the other side of Carter was stop-in-your-tracks, tongue-tyingly handsome. He was around my age, maybe a little older—he certainly radiated an older person’s authority—with a head of dark curls cut close and tight, brown eyes that were currently blazing, and thick eyebrows arched, waiting to see how Carter would respond. He had on a dark suit like most of the other men in the room, but he’d taken off his jacket and hung it on the back of his seat. He was sitting hunched over his drink in a white dress shirt with the sleeves messily rolled back, wearing a dark slim watch that was the antithesis of Carter’s flashy gold one. The wrinkles in his suit, creases under his eyes, and day-old stubble gave the impression of a weary business executive after a long, hard day at work. His eyes flitted to mine for the briefest moment before returning to Carter, but the charge that ran down my spine was enough to root me to my chair.

Carter shifted his weight. Apparently, he was going to play the tough guy. “Why don’t you mind your business, pal?”

The beautiful, tired man rolled his eyes. “Oh, good. You’re one of those.” He got to his feet so fast his barstool made a screeching sound as it scraped across the floor. “Then let’s go ahead and get this over with, because I’ve had a shit day and I would like to kick your ass and get back home at a reasonable hour. So come on. You’re the one campaigning for Most Punchable Man in the Bar. Let’s have your prize.” The dark-haired man spoke calmly and quickly in his hard-to-place accent, like he invited people to get their asses kicked at least once a day. He made a little “come on” gesture that conveyed utter boredom.

People around us had stopped talking to watch. The extra attention only made me feel like I was going to melt into the floor at twice the speed. But if I had no idea how to respond to this turn of events—what to say or even where to put my hands—Carter was even more clueless. I could see his eyes dancing, doing quick calculations. On the one hand, Carter was thicker around the middle than the dark-haired man. On the other, the dark-haired man had revealed himself to be tall and well-built when he stood up.

“Nah, man.” Carter put his hands up. “We’ve got no problems. Just making new friends like you’re supposed to at a bar, for Christ’s sake.”

“Great,” said the dark-haired man. “Then kindly fuck off as suggested.”

Carter didn’t wait to be told a third time. As he hightailed away from the bar, a woman nearby muttered, “What a douche.” And with that judgment rendered, the room dialed back to a normal volume.

“Thank you,” I said to the dark-haired man. He waved me off with a grunt and settled back in his barstool, leaning comfortably over his drink, apparently hoping to resume his night like nothing had happened.

I stared at him. The adrenaline was draining out of my system, which left me feeling hollow. I should have been the one to tell Carter to fuck off. I should have had the guts, but instead I’d tiptoed around and this man had to step in and do it for me. How humiliating. It hit me like a ton of bricks: from the moment Carter arrived, I’d been unequivocally mousy. Exactly like Chris said.

Excerpted from THE BOYFRIEND CANDIDATE. Copyright © 2023 by Ashley Winstead. Published by Graydon House.

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Author Bio

Ashley Winstead’s 2021 breakout thriller, In My Dreams I Hold a Knife, was an Amazon Editor’s Best Thriller, an Apple Books Best Book of August, as well as a Library JournalNew York Times, CrimeReads, Parade, and Goodreads best or most anticipated thriller of the year. Her 2022 thriller, The Last Housewife, was a Library Reads pick, a Loan Star pick, an Amazon Editor’s Best Thriller, as well as a Cosmopolitan, Good Morning America, Good HousekeepingSeattle Times, and Southern Review of Fiction best or most anticipated thriller of the year. Her 2022 romance debut, Fool Me Once, was an Amazon Editor’s Best Romance as well as a USA Today, PopSugar, New York Post, and Goodreads best or most anticipated romance of the year. Her work has been translated into more than a dozen languages and optioned for film/TV.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.ashleywinstead.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ashley.winstead

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ashleywinstead

Purchase Links

HarperCollins: https://www.harpercollins.com/products/the-boyfriend-candidate-ashley-winstead?variant=40743817412642 

BookShop.org: https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-boyfriend-candidate-ashley-winstead/18794134?ean=9781525804960 

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-boyfriend-candidate-ashley-winstead/1142080805 

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Boyfriend-Candidate-Novel-Ashley-Winstead/dp/1525804960/

Feature Post and Book Review: The Viscount Who Vexed Me by Julia London

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE VISCOUNT WHO VEXED ME (A Royal Match Book #3) by Julia London.

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

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Book Description

Daring. Darling. Determined.

Next to the Season’s newest diamond, Harriet (Hattie) Woodchurch feels like a plain Jane. But that’s of no consequence, since Hattie’s plan for her future is to earn enough to live far, far away from her embarrassing family.

That is until Mateo Vincente, Duke of Santiava and newly minted Viscount Abbott, arrives in London. While the shy European’s spoken English is impeccable, his writing is less fluent. The ton is eager to meet the handsome bachelor, and so many invitations flood in that Mateo needs a correspondence secretary.

With her perfect penmanship and way with words, Hattie is recommended, and the two bond over books and the ton’s eligible ladies. But when Hattie’s friend Flora becomes smitten with the viscount, things get complicated. Flora is tongue-tied in his presence. To help, Hattie feeds her information about Mateo’s interests. Soon things turn around and Flora appears on track to become his duchess. Yet for Mateo, something’s not quite right. Conversation with Flora isn’t as scintillating as it is with Hattie…

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63028657-the-viscount-who-vexed-me?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=yMvc8S6f4R&rank=1

A Royal Match Series

Book 1: Last Duke Standing
Book 2: The Duke Not Taken
Book 3: The Viscount Who Vexed Me

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

THE VISCOUNT WHO VEXED ME (A Royal Match Book #3) by Julia London is another charming and witty addition to this historical romance series. Each book in the series has a royal who needs to find a mate and hopefully a love match with the help of a determined matchmaker and recurring characters working to assist. Each book can easily be read as a standalone with a complete HEA in each with the recurring characters introduced in each book of the series.

Harriet “Hattie” Woodchurch is determined to earn her own living and move very far away from her embarrassing family. While she has friends in society from her time in school, her father is a rich penny-pinching merchant and not a member of polite society and she realizes her life and circumstances will not be like her friends.

Mateo “Teo” Vincente, Duke of Santiava and now also the Viscount Abbott after the death of his mother’s father arrives in London to set his new inheritance in order. Society is excited about his visit and the knowledge that he seeks a wife, but he is not comfortable with the attention. When he needs assistance with his English correspondence, Hattie is recommended for the position. Teo soon finds he and his entire household are enchanted with his scribe.

As Mateo meets all the eligible debutantes, he finds that he is only truly himself with Hattie and Hattie is finding herself increasingly infatuated with the Viscount. The matchmaker still has a few things up her sleeve to assist this pair, if the Viscount is willing to find his voice and stand up for what he wants.

I adore this series not only because of the well written characters and situations that I never know how Ms. London will resolve them into a HEA, but also because the dialogue is always so witty and fun. Hattie is a determined young woman willing to work for everything she wants and yet she is also friendly and warm despite her difficult family, and it broke my heart every time her supposed friends hurt her. Mateo is complicated and a product of his father’s constant verbal abuse, but that makes it even more wonderful when he finally finds his own voice and power. I loved that his hobby and passion is baking. This book has no explicit sex scenes, but a steadily growing romance from the discovering of friendship to love.

I recommend this enjoyable historical romance and the entire Royal Match series.

***

Excerpt

Suddenly, a woman entered the shop in such a hurry that she set all the bells above the door clanging. “Mrs. Perkins!”

Mrs. Perkins, the shopkeeper, burst forth from the curtains covering the entrance to a back room like she thought the shop might be on fire. “What is it? What’s happened?”

The woman rushed to the front window where Flora and Queenie were, forcing them aside. “What in heaven!” Queenie cried.

“He’s there!”

“Who’s there?” Queenie demanded—she’d never been shy about seeking answers.

“Here?” Mrs. Perkins gasped and sprang to the window like a gazelle. “Where?”

The woman pointed across the street, and Queenie grabbed Flora’s arm. “Look!”

“You’re hurting me,” Flora said.

“For once, will you do as I ask?” Queenie demanded. “Look!”

Hattie watched the four ladies in the shop window, leaning forward and peering out over the glove displays, confused about what was happening. “Oh my. Oh my,” Flora said, then gestured wildly for Hattie. “Come here, come here, you have to see!”

There was not enough room for the five of them, and Hattie had to stand on her tiptoes to see over Flora’s shoulder. “I can’t really see,” Hattie said.

The rest of them ignored her. “Where?” Mrs. Perkins demanded, sounding panicked.

Mrs. Perkins’s friend pointed.

Hattie tried to make herself taller. The only thing she could see was a haberdashery across the street. Three gentlemen stood before it, chatting. “Is that it?” Hattie asked and sank down onto her feet again.

“Not them,” the woman said. “The viscount.”

There had to be at least a dozen viscounts on Regent Street on any given day. “Which one?”

“Which one?” Flora repeated, and shot a disapproving look over her shoulder at Hattie. “Viscount Abbott, of course.”

“Of course,” Hattie muttered. She didn’t know of any Viscount Abbott. Or why any of these women were interested in him.

“Who is also the Duke of Santiava,” Queenie said. Hattie blinked. Queenie rolled her eyes. “Why do you never know these things, Hattie? It’s as if you live in a cave.”

She never knew these things because she didn’t know anything. How could she? She didn’t exactly exist in the same social circles as Flora and Queenie. She knew what they told her, and they had not told her about this viscount.

Just then, Flora grabbed Hattie’s hand and gripped it so tightly that Hattie winced. Queenie pushed a display of gloves out of the way, and the four women surged forward, Flora dragging Hattie with her.

A man emerged from the shop, holding his hat in his hand. He was tall, with sun-drenched skin. His clothing fit him snugly, and it was apparent that he was trim with an athletic build. His dark hair brushed his collar, and when he looked up at something one of the other gentlemen said, he smiled. Only a little, but it was a smile that sparked through Hattie. That gentleman was quite possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life—elegant, strong, and astonishingly agreeable in looks.

No one spoke for a moment.

A carriage rolled in between the shops and stopped, blocking their view of the haberdashery. When it rolled away, the gentlemen were gone.

The ladies settled back. Queenie sighed and stepped away from the window, leaving the display of gloves knocked onto its side. The woman who had rushed in to announce the viscount sighting retreated to the back room with Mrs. Perkins. Hattie picked up the display and righted it in the window.

“You will be at the top of that list, Flora,” Queenie said with certainty.

Queenie was short and round, with soft gold curls that fell around her shoulders. She carried herself like a queen and acted like one on occasion, too. Flora was tall and lithe, her hair auburn. She was pretty by any standard. When Hattie was with the two of them, she often felt like the plain cousin come to town from the village. Her hair was a dull brown, her figure unremarkable.

Flora gave Queenie’s remark a high-pitched, breathy laugh that Hattie had never heard her make. “Don’t be silly!”

“Don’t be coy,” Queenie said. “You know that you will.”

“The list is quite long, I’m certain. What about Hattie? She might be at the top.”

“The top of what?” Hattie asked.

“Really, Hattie!” Queenie said, sounding annoyed. “How can you be so ignorant of all the news around town? The list of potential brides for the viscount, obviously.”

Hattie laughed. Loudly.

“I agree, it’s hardly a possibility,” Queenie said. “I don’t mean to offend, but he is the Duke of Santiava, and now he’s Viscount Abbott, as he is his English grandfather’s only living male heir. He’ll marry someone with a large dowry and from a titled family. Someone with proper connections.”

Santiava? Hattie vaguely recalled something about it. A duchy, she believed, on the Mediterranean Sea. Once a colony of Wesloria if memory served.

“He’s the sovereign duke, and quite rich,” Queenie continued. “But they say he’s a recluse. One must always be wary of the recluse.”

One must? Hattie hadn’t heard that rule.

“And unmarried, obviously,” Flora added as the three of them departed the shop.

“Won’t he choose a wife from Santiava?” Hattie asked as they walked toward Hyde Park.

“No!” Queenie scoffed, and Hattie was once again left wondering how her education could be so lacking. “He’s come here to claim his title and his fortune and, as everyone knows, be fitted with an English wife. It serves a small duchy to have an English or Weslorian duchess, you know, if they were ever to need the backing of a larger country in times of war or economic hardship. This would practically guarantee it.”

Queenie spoke with such authority about him that Hattie had to wonder if she’d consulted with the man himself. She was dubious that a marriage to Flora could guarantee anything of the sort. But she kept silent.

“Imagine, Hattie,” Flora said, “if you were the link to the might of the Royal Navy should that duchy need it.”

All Hattie could imagine was herself on a leaking, rickety boat. “I won’t be the link to anything, because I’m already engaged.” She smiled.

Flora and Queenie exchanged a look. “You haven’t told her?” Queenie said to Flora.

“Told me what?” Hattie asked, confused.

Tell her. She can’t walk around without knowing,” Queenie said.

Hattie’s heart dropped. “Knowing what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Hattie… Mr. Masterson paid me a call,” Flora blurted. “I was going to tell you. I was waiting for the right time.”

“Well, this is hardly it,” Queenie drawled, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’d just urged Flora to tell her.

But tell her what, exactly? That Rupert had called on Flora? How odd—they weren’t so well acquainted. “Mr. Rupert Masterson called on you,” Hattie repeated, to make sure they were indeed speaking of her Mr. Masterson, the owner and proprietor of the Masterson Dry Goods and Sundries Shop.

“He…he came to me in confidence.” Flora punctuated that remark with a look of sympathy.

Hattie’s gut began to do a strange bit of swirling. “Why?”

“He said…that he thought it best if you and he…” She paused, as if trying to find the words.

Elope? That was it! What other reason could he have for needing to speak in confidence to Flora? He must have sought her help. “Elope?” she asked at the same moment Flora said, “Should not pursue things further.”

No one said a word for a moment. Even Queenie kept her mouth shut. “What?” Hattie asked and stopped walking. This was stunningly incomprehensible. She pressed a fist to her abdomen to keep down the sudden swell of nausea. “What…what did…he…or you…say?” “Oh, Hattie, dearest.” They’d come to the park’s entrance, and Flora pulled her to a bench and sat her down. She took both of Hattie’s hands in hers. “I’m so very sorry, but there is no other way to say it, is there? He would like you to cry off your engagement. End it, I mean. He has come to the unfortunate conclusion that it must be done. But because he has the utmost consideration for you, he means to protect your reputation by having you write him and end it.”

***

About the Author

Julia London is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over fifty novels of historical and contemporary romance. She is the author of the popular Highland Grooms series as well as A Royal Wedding, her most recent series. Julia is the recipient of the RT Bookclub Award for Best Historical Romance and a six-time finalist for the prestigious RITA award for excellence in romantic fiction. She lives in Austin, Texas. Visit her at www.julialondon.com.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Facebook: Julia London

Twitter: @JuliaFLondon

Goodreads


Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Where No One Will See by Felicia Watson

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for WHERE NO ONE WILL SEE by Felicia Watson on this Virtual Author Book Tour.

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

***

Book Description

Lucia Scafetti, a Philly private eye, has tried to move out of the shadow of her infamous crime family. She has her own business, her beloved dog Rocco, and she’s starting to date the cute lawyer down the hall. Her life is upended when her notorious hitman father disappears while in search of the diamond and gold coins he stole from his last victim. Lucia races to unravel the mystery of her father’s disappearance before a crooked and powerful cop beats her to it. Though Lucia’s allies are scanty and her enemies numerous, she tries to resist the questionable help on offer from her Mafiosi family. It looks like Lucia must finally decide on which side of the law she truly belongs, knowing the wrong choice could send her to prison – or an early grave.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75555214-where-no-one-will-see?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=ohrMcyuRD5&rank=2

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

WHERE NO ONE WILL SEE by Felicia Watson is an exceptional P.I. crime mystery/thriller with romantic elements that grabbed me immediately and I could not put it down. The female P.I. protagonist is hard-boiled and yet very empathetic and dealing with a unique family. I am very glad I signed up for this book tour and was introduced to this character, story, and author.

Lucia Scafetti works as a P.I. in Philadelphia. Lucia and her dog, Rocco live in her basement office as she saves to buy her own home. She is working hard to make her business profitable even as she tries to live down the fact that all her relatives work for or have ties to the Mafia. Unexpectedly her hitman father shows up after his release from prison. It is rumored he hid a large diamond and eleven gold coins after killing the courier, but he disappears while searching for them.

Lucia suddenly has plenty of enemies and few allies. A crooked cop has been waiting for Lucia’s father to recover the missing items for himself, a rival Mafia family wants them, and a mysterious hitman may be on the hunt also. Lucia works to unravel the mystery, decide which law enforcement officials and family members she can trust, and stay alive in the process.

This story has everything that makes me a happy reader. A protagonist with sarcastic wit, determination, intelligence, loyalty, and a dog she loves, a plot that is action packed and perfectly paced, and realistic romantic entanglements. Lucia’s investigation is filled with surprises, but the ultimate surprise at the climax I was not anticipating at all. I love it when that happens. The ending is believable with what you learn about Lucia throughout the story, but I still felt it was not what everyone might be expecting.

I highly recommend this P.I. crime mystery/thriller!

***

Excerpt

It was a rather dull surprise for Lucia when the next day, Detective Pike called her down to PPD Headquarters to make a statement about the death of Paul Lugano, found in his car, killed by a bullet to the left eye. She told Colona and Pike what she knew about the murder, which was nothing – except it was further proof that Carlo Scafetti was still alive. She learned nothing new during the interrogation except that both murders had employed the same weapon and surmised that her father had somewhere picked up a Sig Sauer P226.

Upon leaving the police station, she noticed a black BMW E38. It was a distinctive car, especially in that neighborhood. She went over to the driver’s side and tapped on the tinted-glass window. When it slid down slightly, she leaned in. “Hey there, looking for me?”

Her cousin Micky eyed her impassively. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Please get in.”

She wanted to refuse but knew Dominic Vetere was a dangerous man – one only an idiot would trifle with. She wasn’t feeling particularly idiotic that morning, so slipped into the passenger’s seat, saying, “Good to see you, Mick.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“You could if you lied, like I just did.” Okay, maybe she was feeling a little bit idiotic – but Micky’s pomposity was too tempting a target.

“You’re making jokes? Che cozz’?” He moved into her personal space, growling, “Don’t you realize you are in big trouble?” Lucia didn’t respond but started scanning the area to see if there were other cars of a suspicious nature in evidence. Micky took that as a sign to continue. “You know, if you had just stopped at Frankie, we could’ve looked the other way. That gavone was dragging the organization down and my Gabriella is better off without him. Which she will see in time. But Paulie.…” He shook his head, continuing, “He was a good soldier and D’Amico is not gonna’ let this go.”

“D’Amico thinks I killed Frankie and Lugano?”

“Yeah, he does. I’m warning you, do not try and play Salvatore D’Amico for a fool.” While Lucia was fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him, Micky continued, “Because you’re family, I might be able to make a bargain with him and get you out of this. I need to give him something though, so you have to hand over the diamond and coins to me right—” She couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter, causing Micky to snap, “You still think this is funny?”

“I shouldn’t but…I do think it’s funny how you all got your tongues hanging out for those damn things that are probably in some European collector’s vault. And that my old man has you all chasing your tails like this. He’s outsmarted everybody and is probably having a good laugh about me taking the heat for it.”

“Lucia – your father is dead.”

“No, he’s not. The proof is staring everyone in the face. He’s killing everyone they send for him.”

Micky gripped the steering wheel and threw his head back against the seat. He whispered to himself, “Managgia, Patsy was telling the truth.” He looked back at her and spoke very deliberately. “I know you don’t like me, I know you don’t trust me, but I think you know I am not a stupid man. You can believe me on this: Carlo Scafetti is dead. Hai capid?”

Doubt about her father’s status creeping into her mind for the first time, Lucia stared at Micky. She started shaking her head. “No. You’re wrong. These killings…it has to be him. My father isn’t a stupid man, either. He’s just hiding out.”

“He’s not. I’m sorry.” He reached over and clasped her briefly on the shoulder. “I’ll tell D’Amico it doesn’t look like it was you. He’ll trust me on this matter. I can do that for you, at least.” He stared at her for a moment before asking, “And you have no idea where the diamond and coins are?”

“How could I? My father never had them, Micky.” He shook his head in disgust whether at her supposed naiveté or subterfuge she wasn’t sure and didn’t care. She categorically refused his offer to drive her back to her office and exited the car in a hurry.

During the subway ride back home, Lucia ruminated on the situation. She still believed her father was responsible for the murders, but Micky was right about one thing – she knew he was no fool. What was going on? How had her father managed to convince so many people that he was dead? She knew what Bac would say: stop assuming and start looking. And the place she needed to look was at the piers, where Lugano tended to dispose of bodies. She didn’t believe she’d find much of anything. Colona and Pike had to have already been there, but it was time to see what they might have missed.

©Felicia Watson

***

About the Author

Felicia Watson started writing stories as soon as they handed her a pencil in first grade. She’s especially drawn to character driven tales, where we see people we recognize, people who struggle with their mistakes and shortcomings, acknowledge them, and use that knowledge to grow into wiser human beings.

When not writing, Felicia spends her time chasing after her not-so-brilliant, but darling and beloved dogs, is chased by her truly brilliant, darling and beloved husband, is known to friends and family as an amateur pastry chef, and still finds time for swimming and her day job as a scientist.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.feliciawatsonwrites.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/FeliciaTes?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/felicia-watson-aaf9819a-530d-4ff8-bbfe-8b7545a0a582

Blog Post/Feature Post and Book Review: Ghostly Games by Christine Feehan

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for GHOSTLY GAME (GhostWalker Book #19) by Christine Feehan on this blog tour.

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

***

Book Description

Gideon “Eagle” Carpenter is used to rolling with the punches life has thrown at him. It’s the only thing that’s kept him alive. He and his team of GhostWalkers have seen and experienced it all. He does his best to live with all the sins written on his soul. Then he hears the laughter of a woman with the ability to erase—even for a few precious moments—the darkness of his past.

     Laurel “Rory” Chappel has always been a nomad. She’s accustomed to taking care of herself, despite the physical challenges she lives with. She thinks she’s too weak to find real love, but that doesn’t stop her interest in Gideon from turning into a full-on addiction. He’s all rough edges and danger contrasted with a tenderness that makes her feel safe. Still, after a life spent in motion, she’s not sure she knows how to stay in one place.

     Gideon hopes he can persuade Rory to take a chance on him with every electric touch. But soon, life conspires against him, forcing the GhostWalker to risk everything to protect the woman he loves….

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/62888153-ghostly-game?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=7Py7Wvmqbg&rank=1

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

GHOSTLY GAME (GhostWalkers Book #19) by Christine Feehan is a slow burn paranormal romance in the long lived GhostWalker series featuring genetically engineered soldiers and the mates that are made to match them. I have read many, but not all the books in this series. Each book is easily read as a standalone paranormal romance with a secondary mystery/suspense plot with characters and their talents from other books included without the need to read them all in order.

Gideon “Eagle” Carpenter is recuperating from his last mission which almost killed him as he saved a fellow GhostWalker. He is always the protector, but never believes he is worth saving because of the terrible things he has done. As he is meditating on his roof, he hears a woman’s laughter that pulls him out of the darkness.

Laurel “Rory” Chappel is a wanderer and never stays more than a few months in any one place. She supports herself by bartending and is amazing in her abilities. She does not date because she believes her severe asthma makes her too weak for anyone to be interested in her for the long term.

When Gideon enters the bar Rory is immediately interested in the dangerous looking man who makes her feel safe, but she is not sure she can settle down in one place and she feels Gideon is hiding things from her. Gideon soon realizes Rory is a GhostWalker and he is determined to protect her from the danger around her and get her to stay.

This is a change from the other books I have read in the series. This book has a very slow burn romance due to Gideon’s healing injuries at first and then Rory’s in the latter part of the story. They work more on emotional issues and trust between them where the other books have a lot of steamy sex scenes between the H/h. The two mysteries/suspense plots are a police investigation going on around Rory and her friends in her apartment building which puts them all in danger and there is also Gideon and the other GhostWalkers wondering if Rory is a danger to them sent by the doctor who created them. For me, this was a good addition to the series, and I was happy Gideon finally met his match, but the police investigation did not feel fully developed.

Overall, I enjoyed this return to the GhostWalker series. They keep me coming back for more.

***

Excerpt

“I’m not getting the GhostWalker vibe off her,” Gideon said, his eyes on the woman talking to one of her many male customers.

It didn’t matter that her hair was piled on her head in a sloppy knot that was falling out tendril by wayward tendril; it was obvious she had masses of hair, and it was dark cherry red. The real deal. Cherry red. He’d never seen that color of hair on anyone before. Every time she moved under a light, it blazed into vibrant life. It was difficult to keep his eyes off her.

She had those eyes. A deep green. Emerald? Jade? No, emerald for certain. Her eyes sparkled when she talked to her customers. She looked directly at them even when she was mixing drinks, her rhythm never faltering. Sometimes she would laugh softly, the sound musical, turning heads no matter how low it was in the noise of the crowded bar.

“You’ve been here several times over the last couple of weeks, Javier.” Gideon made it a statement. It would be difficult to get anything past Javier.

Gideon had held out as long as he could. The doctor hadn’t given him permission to come see Rory in person, but he couldn’t resist the compulsion any longer. Javier wasn’t happy about it, but he’d come along to ensure Gideon didn’t tear open any wounds. In other words, Gideon thought a little ironically, babysitting.

“I’ve watched her closely,” Javier admitted. “I can’t see any indication that she’s a GhostWalker, other than she has extraordinary reflexes. Her bartending skills are amazing. She’s fast and can handle multiple orders. She doesn’t seem to forget faces or names. On the other hand, I’ve followed her home every night, and she doesn’t run or exhibit any kind of behaviors or skills a GhostWalker might under cover of darkness. She walks, Gideon. Even if there’s a threat to her, which, on more than one occasion, I shut down.”

Gideon didn’t like that. The bartender everyone called Rory was a very attractive woman, although she didn’t seem to notice that she was. She didn’t flirt with her customers so much as genuinely try to connect in a friendly, positive way. If a man asked her out, she gave him a grin but refused gently.

Gideon liked the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and her generous mouth. It would be easy to fixate on both. “You did a background search on her?” Javier was a genius with computers. Gideon knew Javier had. He’d read the report multiple times and committed it to memory. He hoped Javier had updated it.

“Not much to find. She moves around a lot. Lost her parents early. Put herself through bartending school and uses that to earn her way. She doesn’t stay in one place very long. She goes to a state, travels within that state for a little while and moves on to the next one.”

“Anyone following her?”

“Not that I can find.”

Gideon slid his fingers around the neck of the beer bottle and rolled it back and forth. “I’m really drawn to her, Javier, more than any woman I’ve ever been around. The chemistry for me is off the charts. That doesn’t happen. Not like this. Not just with the sound of her voice. Her laughter. Now, watching other men around her, my attraction to her could be a little on the dangerous side, and you know I’m really not that man.”

Javier studied him, one eyebrow arched.

“Not over a woman,” Gideon clarified. “How can I trust it? You know Whitney pairs us. Would he pair someone who isn’t a GhostWalker just to experiment?”

Javier shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to do anything, but what would it matter even if he did pair the two of you? Look at Kane and Rose. They’re happy together. Whitney didn’t make that happen. He might be able to make you attractive to each other, but he can’t manipulate your emotions.”

“And if she’s a plant?”

Again, Javier shrugged. “Then she’s an enemy, Gideon, and I’ll kill her. Whitney doesn’t get to have spies in our home.”

Every cell in Gideon’s body instantly rejected Javier’s casual threat. “Not happening, brother. I wouldn’t be able to let you do it,” he admitted. “That’s another black mark to put in the column against her.”

Excerpted from Ghostly Game by Christine Feehan Copyright © 2023 by Christine Feehan. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

***

About the Author

 Christine Feehan is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Carpathian series, the GhostWalker series, the Leopard series, the Shadow Riders series, the Torpedo Ink series, and the Sea Haven novels, including the Drake Sisters series and the Sisters of the Heart series. She also writes stand-alone romantic suspense novels set in the California backcountry.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.christinefeehan.com/index.php

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCFeehan

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/christine-feehan

Blog Tour/Feature Post: The Loner by Diana Palmer

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LONER by Diana Palmer on this Spring 2023 HTP Books Romance Blog Tour.

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

***

Book Summary

Tanner Everett spends most of his time jet-setting around the world. But that hasn’t stopped innocent Stasie Bolton, the daughter of a neighboring rancher, from falling head-over-heels for the jet-setting playboy. So Stasie is secretly thrilled when both her father proposes linking the properties in matrimony…which means Tanner will be hers, for good.

Despite his globetrotting ways, Tanner can’t help but be enthralled by the quiet girl next door. But as the embers between the two are fanned into flames, Tanner wonders if he’s found forever in the last place he ever expected.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61155440-the-loner?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=Hwy4PUpazj&rank=5

THE LONER

Author: Diana Palmer

ISBN: 9781335545312

Publication Date: April 25, 2023

Publisher: Canary Street Press

***

Excerpt

ONE 

Anastasia Bolton, nicknamed Stasia, was nineteen today. She looked at herself critically in her bedroom mirror, making a face at her lack of beauty. She had a pretty mouth and big, soft brown eyes. Her cheekbones were high, her ears small. She was only medium height, but her figure was perfect. She had elegant long legs, just right for riding horses, which she did, a lot. She’d done barrel racing when she was younger, but art had taken over her leisure hours. She painted beautifully.

She was named after a semi-fictional character in a movie her romantic late mother had loved, Anastasia, which starred Yul Brynner and Ingrid Bergman. Her mother had loved the movie and named her only child after the unforgettable heroine. Stasia lived with her father, Glenn Bolton, on a huge beef ranch in Branntville, Texas. Her last living grandparents, her dad’s parents, had died of a deadly virus the summer before her graduation from high school. Her mother had died tragically when Stasia was only thirteen. There was no other family left, just Stasia and Dad. They were close.

Glenn Bolton was only fifty years old, but he had a very bad heart and he was in the final stages of heart failure. It was treatable, but he hadn’t shared that knowledge with Stasia. He was terrified of the open-heart surgery treatment would require. He and the doctor had spoken privately the week before, and afterward, Glenn had been quieter than usual and he’d contacted his attorney. That had been a private conversation as well. Stasia worried about what was being discussed. She didn’t want to think about what her life would be like without him. She had no family except him.

Well, there were the Everetts, who lived next door to her father’s ranch on their own enormous ranch, the Big Spur. They were sort of like family, after all, since Stasia had known them all her life. Cole Everett and his youngest son, John, were frequent visitors. Glenn had the only groundwater suitable for ranching in the small community of Branntville, Texas. A river ran like a silver ribbon through his entire property, so he wasn’t dependent on wells for watering his cattle, as other ranchers were. He approved of Cole and John. He wanted more than anything to see his daughter settled with one of the Everett sons, but she was only in love with one of them—with Tanner, the eldest, who was the cookie-cutter design of the spoiled rich kid. Cole hadn’t spoiled Tanner. That had been his wife, Heather, a former singing star and current songwriter. Their firstborn had been the light of her life. He was twenty-five now, a strong, incredibly handsome young man with dark hair and pale blue eyes, almost silver like his father’s, and a Hollywood sort of physique. He liked variety in his women, but for the past year he’d had a girlfriend who enjoyed the jet-setting lifestyle that he favored.

Cole had given Tanner a Santa Gertrudis stud ranch that he’d bought when the owner went into a nursing home, hoping to settle down his wild son. It was a good property, adjoining his and the Bolton properties, but the water situation there was dire. There had been drought in the past year, and they’d had to drill wells to get enough water just to keep the livestock watered. The Bolton place had a river running through it, and many small streams that ran over into the Everetts’ holdings. However, that water didn’t belong to them so they were unable to divert it for any agricultural purposes.

For a long time, Cole had toyed with the idea of a merger with Glenn Bolton, but Glenn wouldn’t hear of it. He found all sorts of reasons for his stubborn attitude. Cole saw right through him. Stasia was still living at home, and she was in love with Tanner. The fly in the ointment was that Tanner didn’t like Stasia. He liked experienced, sophisticated women like Julienne Harper, his girlfriend. Tanner could have made an empire out of the ranch Cole had given him, but he wasn’t home enough. He and Julienne were always on the go somewhere. Skiing in Colorado, parties on somebody’s yacht off Monaco, summers in Nice. And so it went.

Stasia knew about Julienne. Everybody in Branntville did. It was a small community where gossip flourished. It was mostly kind gossip, because the people who lived there had known each other’s families for generations. Tanner was one of them. But Julienne, who was sarcastic and condescending, was an outsider, a city woman who’d alienated just about everyone she came into contact with.

Tanner had a couple, Juan and Minnie Martinez, who ran the house and managed the ranch for him while he played around the world. They’d just threatened to quit because of Julienne’s last visit to Tanner’s ranch. Cole had played peacemaker. The Martinezes were good at ranch management, and somebody had to keep the place going. Cole despaired of Tanner ever settling down to real work. He’d always had everything he wanted. Cole, who adored his wife of twenty-five years, hadn’t had the heart to make her stop coddling Tanner, while there had still been time to knock some of the selfishness and snobby attitude out of him. Now, it was too late.

Stasia came into the living room where the men were talking with a tray of coffee and sliced pound cake. All three men stood up, an ancient custom in rural areas that still had the power to make her feel important. Her generation cared less about such things, as a rule, but Stasia was a throwback. Glenn had raised her the way his parents had raised him. She’d absorbed those conservative attitudes on the way of the modern world. She hated it. She hated it most because Tanner liked women who belonged to that sophisticated crowd.

John Everett looked like his mother, Heather, in coloring, at least. He was big and blond and drop-dead handsome, with his father’s silver eyes. His young sister, Odalie, also looked like Heather, with pale blue eyes and blond hair. Tanner was the one who most resembled Cole, who was tall and still handsome. Tanner had the same thick, dark hair but with pale blue eyes that just missed being the silver of his father’s.

John went forward and took the heavy tray from her. He grinned. “I love cake.”

She laughed, a soft, breathy sound. “I know.”

She smiled at him with warm affection. He was like a cuddly big brother to her. He knew that and hid his disappointment. “How’s the art going?” Cole asked with a smile.

“I sold a painting!” she exclaimed happily. “There was a man passing through, from someplace back East, and he saw the landscape I painted in the local art shop. He said it was far too cheap for something that lovely, so he gave Mr. Dill, the owner, three times my asking price. I was just astonished.”

“You paint beautifully,” John said, his eyes brimming with love that she tried not to see. He indicated the landscapes on the walls of the Bolton home; one with running horses in a thunderstorm was entrancing.

“Thanks,” she said, flushing a little. “Mr. Dill said the man looked Italian. He was big and muscular and he had these two other big guys with him. He was passing through on the way to San Antonio on business.”

“Sounds ominous,” John teased.

She laughed as she poured coffee all around and offered cake on saucers with sparkling clean forks. “He told Mr. Dill I should be selling those paintings up in New Jersey, where he was from, or even New York City, where he owned an art gallery and museum. He said he was going to talk to some people about me! He even took down Mr. Dill’s number so he could get in touch.” She sighed. “It was probably just one of those offhand remarks people make and then forget, but it was nice of him to say so.”

“You really do have the talent, Stasia,” Cole told her. “It would be nice if he could put you in touch with some people in the art world back East. If that’s what you want to do with your life,” he added gently.

She smiled at him. “I like to paint.” She grimaced. “I’d like to marry and have a family, though.”

“No reason you couldn’t do both,” John said. “And if you had to fly back East to talk to people, well, we have a share in a corporate jet, you know. You could let us know when you had business there and I could go with you.”

She smiled sedately. “Thanks, John, but it’s early days yet.”

“How’s Tanner?” Glenn asked.

Cole’s light eyes grew glittery. “Off on another trip. To Italy, this time. My daughter’s studying opera in Rome. He thought he’d stop by and see her on the way to Greece.”

“Odalie has a beautiful voice,” Stasia replied, hiding disappointment. She’d hoped Tanner might show up with his brother and father. “Does she want to sing at the Met eventually?”

“She does,” Cole replied. He drew in a long breath and sipped coffee. “I’ll hate having her so far from home. But you have to let kids grow up.” He glanced at John with affection. “At least this one doesn’t have itchy feet yet!”

“I’m a homebody,” John said easily. “I love cattle. I love ranching. I don’t want to leave home,” he added, with a covert glance at Stasia.

“Good thing,” Cole chuckled. “I have to leave the ranch to somebody when I’m gone.”

“You’re not going anywhere for years,” Glenn chided. “The Everetts are a long-lived bunch. Your grandfather lived to be ninety.”

“Yes, but my father died before he was sixty, and my mother died before I married Heather,” Cole replied. His face tautened as he relived those days, when a lie split him apart from Heather, whom he’d loved with all his heart. It had been a torment, those months apart before he discovered that a jealous rival had told him lies about Heather’s parentage and made it sound as if he and Heather were actually related. They weren’t, but it was heartbreaking just to think it. Heather had been singing in nightclubs in those days. Cole had been cruel to her because her feelings for him were all too visible and he thought nothing could ever be allowed to happen between them. When he found out the truth, Heather had already backed out of his life. It had taken a long time to win her back.

He glanced at Stasia. She reminded him of Heather in her youth. She wasn’t as beautiful as his wife, but she was sweet and gentle and she’d make someone a good wife and mother. He knew that it wasn’t going to be Tanner. The boy had mentioned weeks ago that he hated having to talk to her father at all because Stasia would sit and stare at him as if he were a tub of kittens needing a home. He found her juvenile and dull. John, on the other hand, adored her. Cole grimaced as he processed the thought, because Stasia so obviously thought of John as the brotherly type.

“Now, about what I mentioned on the phone,” Cole began as he finished his coffee and put it and the cup and saucer back on the tray.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Glenn broke in, with a smile. “But I’ll never give you permission to dam the streams.” Cole sighed. “Only one stream, the one nearest my south pasture. The cattle are going to suffer for that decision,” he told the older man. “We’ve drilled every well we can.” “I know that,” Glenn told him. “I’ve got things in motion that will solve your problem. Don’t bother asking; won’t tell,” he chuckled. “But you’re worrying over something that’s already fixed. Just a matter of time. Short time, at that,” he added with a faraway look in his eyes. Cole started to argue, realized it would do no good and just shrugged good-naturedly. “Okay. I’ll rely on your conscience.” “Good place to put trust, since I do have one,” Glenn replied.

He scowled. “That boy of yours got himself into hot water in France, they say. It was on the front page of the tabloid those Lombard people back East publish.” “It wasn’t Tanner who started the trouble,” Cole replied curtly. “It was his…companion, Julienne Harper. She started a row in a high-ticket French restaurant with another woman, and her companion started cursing and threw a punch at Tanner when he intervened. Tanner had some explaining to do.” He glanced at Glenn. “This time, I didn’t interfere, and I wouldn’t let Heather do it, either. The boy’s got to grow up and take responsibility for his own actions.”

“According to the tabloid, he made restitution for the victim’s dress and paid the dentist to replace one of her date’s front teeth.” Glenn shook his head. “Reminds me of you, when you were that age,” he added with twinkling eyes. “Got arrested for a bar brawl when you got home from the service, I believe…?” Cole glared at him. “Some yahoo made a nasty joke about what soldiers did overseas. I took exception. The guy wasn’t ever even in a good fight, what would he know about being a soldier?” “Well, your dad kept him from suing, at least,” Glenn said, and chuckled. “Most people around here were scared of your father anyway. He was a real hell-raiser.” Cole smiled sadly. “He was, and he died far too young.” Glenn knew some stories about Cole’s father that he wasn’t about to share. Some secrets, he reasoned, should be kept.

“Your son was in black ops when he went in the military, wasn’t he?” he asked suddenly. Cole looked thunderous. “Yes, he was. I didn’t find out until he was back home.” He sighed. “I told him he had to get an education, so he joined the Army and got it that way. At least he finally decided that risking his life daily wasn’t conducive to running a ranch. It’s one reason I bought the old Banks property for him, to draw him back home.” He leaned forward. “I thought if his income depended on ranching, he’d make better life decisions. At least he did get a degree in business, even if it was between assignments.” He laughed shortly. “And then he met her.” He shook his head.

Everybody knew what that meant. “Her.” Julienne Harper. The fly in the ointment. She’d lured Tanner back into the jet-set lifestyle the military had purged him of, and now he was even less responsible than he’d been before. “A bad woman can make a fool of a good man. And sometimes, the reverse,” Glenn added. He didn’t mention his late wife, but they all knew the tragic story. His wife had been suddenly and hopelessly attracted to a man straight out of prison who’d worked on the ranch. The tragic consequences were still being lived down, by Glenn and his daughter. “She was a good woman,” Glenn said stubbornly. “She was just impulsive and easily led.” “Which is how many good people end up in prison,” John said sadly. “I’m hopeful that we can keep my big brother out of it.” Cole stood up with his son and clapped him on the back. “Something I’ll never have to worry about with you,” he said with obvious affection.

“At least one of my kids turned out right.” He was referring to Odalie, who’d had a brush with the law in her teens, just as Tanner had—when going into the military was the only thing that saved him from serving time. Tanner had fallen in with a few ex-cons and gotten drunk with them. He passed out in the back seat just before they robbed a convenience store, but Cole had to get attorneys and pull a lot of strings to keep his son out of jail. “Most kids turn out right eventually, even those who have a rough start,” Glenn said with a smile. “Yours turned out very well,” Cole said, smiling gently at Stasia. “She reminds me of Heather at her age.” “And that’s a compliment indeed,” Glenn said, watching his daughter flush shyly. “Well, we’d better get back home,” Cole said. “We’re getting ready for roundup. If you need any help over here, when you start, you know we’ll do anything you need us for.” Glenn smiled and shook hands with both men. “Yes, I do know. I’ll send my hands over if you need extras. We’re waiting a week to start.” “We’d be grateful. No matter how many hands you have, a few more are always welcome.” “Done. Just say the word.”

“I don’t guess you’d like to take in a movie this weekend?” John asked Stasia on the way out the door. She hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She smiled gently. “I would, but I’m working on a landscape and I have a real incentive to finish it quickly now, just in case that nice man does give my name to somebody back East,” she added with just the right touch of regret. She liked John, but she didn’t want to encourage him. Nobody could replace Tanner in her heart. “Okay,” John said easily, hiding his disappointment. “Rain check?” “Sure,” she lied. He grinned and they all went out onto the long, wide front porch to see the Everetts off.

Cole stared into the distance. “Good weather, for early spring,” he said, admiring the grass that was just getting nice and green in the pastures beyond. “I hope it holds.” “So do I,” Glenn replied. “See you.” Glenn threw up a hand. Stasia waved. The Everetts got into one of their top-of-the-line black ranch trucks and drove away.

“John’s sweet on you,” Glenn mentioned over supper that night. “I know,” she groaned. “I like him so much. He’s like the brother I never had. But he wants more than I can give him, Dad. It wouldn’t be right to encourage him.” Glenn nodded. “I agree.” He cocked his head at her. “It’s still Tanner, isn’t it?” She grimaced and nodded. “I can’t help it. I’ve been crazy about him since I was fifteen, and he can’t see me for dust. It’s such a shame that I’m not beautiful and rich and sophisticated,” she added heavily. “A man who loves you won’t care what you are or what you’ve got,” he said gently. “I guess not.” She poked at her salad with a fork. “Julienne’s really beautiful. Of course, she doesn’t talk to the peasants. I saw them together in Branntville just before they left for overseas. She looked me up and down and just laughed.” Her face burned at the memory. “So did he, in fact. He thinks I’m a kid.”

Glenn had a faraway look in his eyes. “That could change,” he said, almost to himself. He turned his green eyes toward her, the same green eyes that he’d hoped she might inherit. But her brown ones were like his late wife’s, he reflected, big and brown and beautiful. “You’ll inherit this ranch,” he added. “I hope you’ll have the good sense to find a manager if you don’t want the responsibility of running it yourself. And I hope you won’t be taken in by any slick-talking young man who sees you as a meal ticket,” he added worriedly, because she wasn’t street-smart. “This property has been in our family for a hundred years. I’d hate to see it go to an amusement park for tourists.” She frowned. “Why would it go to someone like that?” “Oh, this guy offered me a lot of money for the property just the other day, when I was at the bank renewing a couple of CDs. The bank president introduced us.” “You told him no, of course, right, Dad?” she asked.

He pursed his lips. He drew in a breath. “I told him I’d think about it.” He didn’t tell her that the ranch was mortgaged right up to the eaves of the house. His bad business decisions had led the place to ruin, something Cole Everett knew. It was why Cole was trying to get the ranch. But then, he’d have it soon, Glenn thought sadly. He couldn’t let Stasia become a charity case, and the sale of the ranch wouldn’t even cover the debts, as things stood. “But it’s right next door to the Everetts’ new ranch, the one Tanner owns,” she said worriedly. “Can you imagine how nervous purebred cattle would react to an amusement park next door?” “I can,” he said. “Tanner could lose everything,” she said. “His livelihood depends on the new ranch, especially since his dad has already split the inheritance at Big Spur between John and Odalie. He figured Tanner would have enough of a fortune with the Rocking C.” The Rocking C was the name of Tanner’s ranch. The previous owner, an elderly Easterner, had called it his rocking chair spread. Hence the name.

“Well, Tanner might have to make a hard decision one day, when I’m gone,” Glenn said, and smiled to himself. “Are you plotting something, Dad?” she asked, worried. “Me?” He contrived to look innocent. “Now what would I have to be plotting about?” He chuckled. “How about some of that apple pie you made? This new heart medicine my doctor put me on makes me hungrier, for some reason.”

“You never did tell me what he said when you went to him last week,” she mentioned. “Same old same old. Take it easy, take my meds, don’t do any heavy lifting,” he answered, lying through his teeth. He was due to speak to a cardiologist soon, who would decide if the open-heart surgery Glenn was frightened of was required to keep him alive. A quadruple bypass, the doctor had recommended, and soon. Too many fats, too much cholesterol— despite Stasia’s efforts to make him eat healthy food—a history of heart problems and not recognizing his limitations had placed Glenn in a bind. Glenn hadn’t shared that information with his daughter. No need to worry her. Besides, he felt fine.

A few days later, just after his cardiologist’s office had phoned with an early appointment to see the intervention cardiologist, he started up the steps into the house and fell down dead.

Tanner Everett was cursing at the top of his lungs, so loudly that Cole had to call him down before Heather heard her son. “Go ahead. Rage,” Cole snapped. “But the will can’t be broken. Nobody in Branntville will agree that Glenn Bolton wasn’t in his right mind when he made it.”

“An amusement park! Next to my purebred herd!” Tanner whirled on his heel and glared at his parent. “And if I don’t marry damned Stasia, that’s my future.” Cole felt the resentment in the younger man. In his place, he’d have felt it as well. “It was a rotten thing to do,” Cole agreed. “But we have to deal with what we’ve got, not what we wish we had.”

“I’m twenty-five years old,” Tanner raged. “I’m not ready to get married! Not for years yet!” He stared at his father. “You were older than me when you married Mother.” “Yes, I was. I played the field for years.” He looked down at his boots. “I loved your mother. For a long time. But she had a rival who lied and said Heather and I were related by blood. She took years away from us.” Tanner knew the story. All the Everett kids did. It would have been a tragedy if Cole hadn’t found out the truth in time.

“Heather was just about Stasia’s age when I fell in love with her. She sang like a nightingale, just like Odalie does now. She was beautiful. She still is,” he added softly. Tanner, who’d never felt love for a woman, just stared at him without comprehension.

“There must be some way to dispute the will,” Tanner said doggedly. “Go ahead and look for one. But I’ll tell you what our attorney told me: no way in hell. You marry Stasia or the property goes to the Blue Sky Management Properties. Stasia will get nothing.”

“Bull! The ranch is worth millions,” Tanner shot back. “It was. Glenn was no rancher, even if his father was,” Cole replied curtly. “The place is mortgaged to the hilt, and you can’t tell Stasia that. She’s got enough misery right now coping with her dad’s death.” He grimaced. Even he was sorry for Stasia’s situation. She couldn’t help what she felt for him, he supposed. But he was never going to return it. She had to know that.

“Which leads to my suggestion. I’m giving you the Rocking Chair ranch, and merging Stasia’s with Big Spur. We can pay off the debt by disposing of most of Glenn’s beef cattle and replacing it with our purebred Santa Gerts. In other words,” Cole added quietly, “either you make a go of your new ranch or you’ll be out in the cold. I’m not changing my will, Tanner,” he added firmly. “I’m sorry. But you could do worse. And it’s about time you stayed home and managed your own damned ranch and stopped acting like some Eastern playboy.”

“I hate dust and cattle,” Tanner muttered. “You should have given this ranch to John. Then he could have married Stasia.” “She wouldn’t have him,” Cole said simply. “She doesn’t love him.” He jammed his hands into his slacks pockets. “She doesn’t love me, or she wouldn’t have encouraged her father to do this to me!”

“I don’t think she had anything to do with it. Glenn had a bad heart and she had no other family.” “You could have adopted her,” Tanner said with a sarcastic bite in his voice. Cole’s silver eyes narrowed and started to glitter. Tanner cut his losses. “All right, damn it!” he muttered. “I’ll do what I have to. But I’m not settling down to aprons and babies and white picket fences! Not for any woman!” “Nobody’s asking you to.” Cole felt sorry for Stasia. She loved Tanner. Maybe, maybe love on one side would be enough. But he was worried. Tanner was like a stallion with a new rope around his neck. This wasn’t going to end well.

Stasia was in shock. She sat at the kitchen table and made the funeral arrangements, relying on the funeral home and her father’s attorney for clarity. She was penniless. Worse, her father had forced his attorney to put a clause in the will. Tanner married Stasia, or her father’s property went to the amusement park man, who would turn it into a loud, cluttered nightmare for Cole’s horses and cattle. She’d heard the terms of her father’s will from their attorney, Mr. Bellamy. She was shocked and miserable, especially when she recalled what her father had told her only days before, about the offer from the amusement park man. She’d thought she’d get at least enough to live on from the deal, but it wasn’t like that at all. Her father had kept so much from her. The ranch was worthless, mortgaged and debt-ridden. There was no way she could run it for a profit, or even hire someone to run it. And if the amusement park man got it, it would destroy Cole’s ranch as well as Tanner’s. Neither of them could afford to tear down existing stables and barns and rebuild them in a safer location. In fact, there would be no safer location, with that overlit nightmare of noise and light nearby.

Not for one minute did she think Tanner would give in to her father’s subdued blackmail and marry her. She was ashamed that he’d even put that clause into his will. Tanner would probably think it was her idea. When she finished the preliminaries, she went to her father’s closet to look for his one good suit and his best pair of wing-tip shoes. The sight of the suit set her off. She dropped down onto the spotless paisley duvet on her father’s bed and bawled until her eyes were red and her throat hurt. That was probably why she didn’t hear the knock at the front screen door, which wasn’t locked. It was also probably why she wasn’t aware that Tanner had come into the room and was standing in the doorway, just watching her.

He knew she loved her father. He was the only family she had left. It hurt him to watch her cry. He’d had no real feelings for her, except irritation that she was infatuated with him and let it show too much. But she was really hurting. He’d never lost anyone in his family. Both sets of his grandparents had been dead when he was born. He didn’t know death except as an observer.

“Stasia?” he called quietly. She jumped, startled, and lifted a wet face with red-lined eyes to his. She swallowed down the pincushion that seemed stuck there and swiped at her eyes with the tail of the bright yellow T-shirt she was wearing. “It wasn’t my idea, what he put in the will,” she said, as if he’d already accused her of engineering it. Angry brown eyes warred with his pale blue ones. 

Excerpted from The Loner. Copyright © 2023 by Diana Palmer. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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Author Bio

 The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A New York Times bestselling author and voted one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

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