Where I share my love of books with reviews, features, giveaways and memes. Family and needlepoint are thrown in from time to time.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Book Blitz: Daughter of Magic by Teresa Roman


Daughter of Magic
Teresa Roman
Publication date: March 15th 2016
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult

Lilli sees things no one else does.
Desperate to make sense of the dreams and visions that have plagued her since childhood, Lilli confides in Devin, her closest friend, and the boy she’s fallen for.
Instead of questioning her sanity, Devin confesses to secrets of his own, which are far darker. His revelations about magic, witches and demons stun Lilli. But it’s what he knows about Lilli’s mother, long believed to be dead, that leaves her feeling betrayed. Despite her anger, Lilli will have to learn to trust Devin again, because he is the only one who can protect her from a dark danger that’s coming for her from a world away.



EXCERPT:

“Everybody needs a hero, Lilli. I want to be yours. You just have to let me.” He reached out to brush my hair over my shoulder.
I didn’t know what to make of his words. I wanted them to mean something—that he’d begun to feel about me the way I did for him. But it was probably wishful thinking. Knowing Devin, the reason for his extra kindness was because of what happened to my father.
“After all the things you’ve done for me, I think you hit hero status quite a while ago.” I kept my voice light, even though I meant every word. Not only did he get me a job—not an easy feat in Crescent City where unemployment was rampant—but he was the first person besides my aunt that I ever felt comfortable talking to about my mother. And if he hadn’t been with me when I found my dad, I don’t know how I ever would’ve gotten past the shock.
He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “You’ve been crying.” His hand moved to my cheek. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say; of course you’ve been crying.”
Staring into Devin’s eyes, feeling his hand on my cheek, made me feel better and worse at the same time. He had no idea how impossibly hard it was to be around him when all I wanted was for him to kiss me, to tell me he needed me as badly as I did him. I lowered my gaze and he dropped his hand.


Author Bio:  Teresa currently lives in beautiful Sacramento, CA with her husband, three adorable children and a dog named Parker that her son convinced them to adopt. When she's not at her day job or running around with her kids, you can find her in front of the computer writing, or with her head buried in another book. If you'd like to find out more about her, she can be found at www.teresaromanwrites.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive book release information.



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Saturday, March 12, 2016

Cover Reveal: Aria's Dream by Anna Adams


Aria’s Dream
Anna Adams
(The Aria Series, #2)
Publication date: April 23rd 2016
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult

Aria is on top of the world. Her father finally supports her dream of becoming an opera singer, her friendship with Maxime is off to a great start, and she’s reconnecting with her estranged mother before the start of her second year at the National Academy of Arts in France.
But all that’s overshadowed when she realizes her voice’s limitations could prevent her from becoming a famous singer.
Torn between her wish for fame and her desire to stay true to herself, Aria will have to choose what singing really means to her and what she’s willing to sacrifice in order to succeed.



Pre-order today:
Aria’s Journey (book 1) is available for FREE for a limited time on:
iTunes / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

Author Bio:
Born in France, raised partly in the United States and in France, I grew up loving stories in French and English. I currently live in Paris where I pursue my studies as a Law Student.
I'm the author of the French Girl series. When I'm not writing, I enjoy traveling in Europe and dream of going to Asia and Africa.
I love to hear from readers at annaadams333@gmail.com.
You can also find more information about my books on my website http://www.annaadamsauthor.com/ and join my newsletter for exclusive news about my books.

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Thursday, March 10, 2016

Spotlight Tour: Gods of the Highlands Series by Bambi Lynn

Gods of the Highlands Series



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Lucan: Gods of the Highlands Series Book 4

Neala Comyn, wife of a powerful laird, wants to end the pain and suffering of an abusive marriage. She is a woman without hope, believing God has forsaken her. When she is kidnapped by a rival laird who claims to be a god himself, her faith is further shaken. Could Lucan Munro be the salvation she has prayed for? Or will her sins condemn her to eternal damnation?

Lucan Munro, has the power of a Celtic god. He can conjure his heart’s desire from thin air. But can he save the woman he loves from a demon hell-bent on claiming her soul?


Excerpt
From his vantage spot he saw her tiny bare feet touch the floor next to the bed. He crawled backwards in the opposite direction. She rushed across to the table beneath the window and began an onslaught of such proportions, he wondered again where she found the strength. He opened his mouth to speak, but thinking better of it, clamped it shut again. She appeared completely without reason, lost in her heated rampage. Perhaps it was best to let her calm down on her own.

“Ye gorbellied,” she threw the box containing his seal, “toad-spotted,” then the ink vial, “malt worm!” ending with the empty food tray that crashed against the tub only a breath away from his head.

Lucan had had enough. He was laird of the mighty clan Munro. He was not about to let some slip of a lass make him cower in his own chamber. He rose from his hiding place wrapping the plaid around his waist as he did so. “Now see here -”

They both jumped when the door burst open. Lucan turned to see Evie standing at the threshold, her mouth open wide in surprise. “Get out,” he bellowed at her. The maid barely had the door closed before the clay pitcher Neala had been about to throw at him crashed against it, shattering to pieces.

He took the opportunity of her distraction to close the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her, trapping hers against her body. She struggled like a cat who’d fallen into the burn, cussing and spitting insults at him that would rival the most battle-hardened soldier.

“Where did ye learn such language?” Lucan fought to control her, ignoring the effect her squirming against him was having on every inch of his body. He had not been with a woman since well before he had brought Neala here, and his cock responded eagerly to the pressure against it.

He fought the sensation, recognizing the debauchery in being aroused by a woman so obviously without her wits. He twisted away, clenching his thighs and trying to fill his mind with thoughts of his long-dead mother, the repairs that need to be done to the kitchens, his prized mare that was on the verge of birthing a new foal. Anything to take his mind off the increasing hardening of his body. If only she would stop writhing against him. He fairly growled when she deliberately pressed her thigh against his groin. He tried to shield himself, turning his body at an angle, but it was no use.

“What’s yer pleasure t’night, m’laird? D’ye want me to fight ye?” She pressed harder, painfully against him. “D’ye want me to play the whore?” She reached between them and boldly grasped his erection in her hand, squeezing it through his plaid and glaring up at him with the look of the devil. “Is this what ye want?”

Lucan clamped his teeth together, grinding them until an ache developed in his jaw. He would have thought her a strumpet of some renown if not for the tear that trickled from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. His grip around her waist softened. He reached one hand up to her face, wiping the single tear away with the pad of his thumb. The gesture only brought more tears. His heart ripped in half.

“Why did ye save me?” Her cracked voice was barely more than a whisper. “Another month and I would have been dead.” She closed her eyes and went limp in his arms.

BUY LUCAN

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Tanis: Gods of the Highlands Series Book 3

Tanis Cleary, laird of a small Highland clan, wants to protect what’s left of his family from the pagan god who hunts them. But even with his colossal strength, fed by the unholy blood in his veins, he cannot do it alone. His only ally is an insatiable angel with a chip on her shoulder. Will he desert his clan to follow the only woman who can save him from eternal damnation?

Kiah is an angel of God, tasked with guarding one of His most sacred vessels. Like any woman desperate to win her Father’s approval, Kiah will stop at nothing to succeed in her mission. Distracted by the lure of a man more compelling than any other, Kiah soon finds herself battling the fires of hell, her very existence in jeopardy.


Excerpt
When Tanis spoke, Kiah let his voice wash over her. She nearly wept, so great was her yearning to feel the vibration of its rich tone, accented with the lilt common among these Highlanders.

The only other time she had heard him speak, he had been bellowing at her. She could imagine what he would sound like speaking of love play in that sultry voice, whispering her name, expressing his pleasure.

When the others left, Tanis stayed behind. He walked back to stand by the bed, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the woman ensconced there. He was the finest example of man Kiah had ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered, his body was sculpted from years of fighting and living, and from the influence of pagan blood in his ancestry. He wore his raven-colored hair long and wild. He had rich brown eyes, windows to his spirit she longed to stare into. He was the kind of man who did everything with a fierceness that made one long to feed on that essence. He was irresistible.

And dangerous. He had an allure that called to her, despite better judgment. He was proud and arrogant, every bit her equal. She grudgingly admitted that Tanis was not as weak as most humans. She recognized that.

He was the kind of man Kiah avoided.

I ken yer spirit, lass. Kiah drew up when he spoke directly to her.

Have ye come to sate yer desire for me? She was as tempted as if Lucifer himself was standing there. Her wings twitched, anticipating her transformation. But she resisted, easier for her than these weak humans.

Do ye have sin on yer mind? The urge was almost more than she could hold back. She reminded herself of her recent failure. She was in enough trouble.

Perhaps ye are afraid of me? ’Tis no surprise. Most lasses flee in fear after just a few days in my bed. Why should ye be any different?

She could only resist so much. She drifted around the bed and pressed against him. He was tall and wide. She imagined herself in human form, laying her head against that broad back, wrapping her arms around him.

Show yourself and learn the true meaning of sin. Kiah moved away from him, prepared to change into her human form and give in to temptation.

BUY TANIS

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Sirona

Sirona: Gods of the Highlands Series Book 2

She has the power to heal his body, but can she heal his soul?

Sirona Cleary tries to hide her unholy healing powers from everyone around her, denying her divine heritage even as she saves those who would see her punished. When she is kidnapped by a rival clan, she is sure her execution is near. Rhain Comyn is dying from a mysterious disease, and he couldn't be happier about it. After the atrocities he has committed, Rhain believes he has no right to a decent life and welcomes the ailment that leaves him with unquenchable thirst and hunger, extreme fatigue, blurred vision and ultimately drives him into a deep slumber from which no healer can awaken him. Can a witch from the clan of his enemy save him?



Sirona Teaser 1


Excerpt
Alone with her patient, Sirona relaxed a little. She crept closer to the bed and leaned over him. Rhain Comyn was by far the handsomest man she had ever seen. Long, thick lashes, dark as soot, laid against cheekbones made more prominent by whatever ailed him. She wondered if behind that facade, softened in slumber, was a cruel bully, equally revolting as his brothers.

Without remorse she realized that if Fergus were lying there instead of Rhain, she would not hesitate to let him die. She was already damned to Hell, was she not? Everything about her existence went against God. Saint Peter would never allow such an abomination past the gate. She tried to deny the powers that marked her a pagan, in the hopes He would not punish her for her tainted blood. But in the end, she could no more ignore her gift than she could refuse breathing.

What if she defied God and saved this man, only to discover he was the spawn of another sort, evil and deviant, and she had unleashed him on the world? Was it worth the risk for the promise that she would be returned to her home? Could she trust that promise?

Sirona eased down on the bed. She took one of his gaunt hands in both of hers. Warmth spread through her at the touch. Her heart clenched at the possibility she could not save him. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts fall away, focusing all her energy on the sensation of his skin against hers.

His hand was limp in hers, cold and frail. She sensed his longing for death, born of a sorrow so deep it seeped into his bones. Tears clogged her throat as she was overcome with profound despair.

What had happened to him to cause such anguish and torment, such hopelessness? She tried to recall what little she knew of the clan. The Munro had been feuding with them for generations, but it wasn’t until the laird, Gregor Munro, had been killed, that the hatred and fighting had escalated. Now there were skirmishes every few months.

Comyn men were renowned for their ruthless brutality. Legend stated they came out of the womb filled with bloodlust and savagery. Comyn women seldom survived childbirth. The laird’s own sons had been born to three different wives.

Despite the frailty of their women, the boys grew strong and healthy, populating the clan with a merciless fighting force. Their only weakness was their small number.

Rhain, the youngest of the laird’s sons, was rumored to be the most ruthless of them all. He had hired himself out as a mercenary, it was said because there weren’t enough Munros to quench his thirst for blood.

Sirona shuddered and opened her eyes. Her heart tripped when she found him staring at the rafters over the bed. She dropped his hand as if it burned and shot to her feet. She took several deep breaths as she watched him. When he did not move, indeed he did not even blink, she inched closer. “Can you hear me?” she whispered.

No reaction.

She pressed the backs of her fingers against his cheek. No fever. With one finger beneath his chin, she gently turned his face toward her until she was in his line of vision. She stared into rich brown eyes, windows to a deep, dark abyss that promised endless suffering.

“Rhain?”

His eyes focused on hers when she whispered his name.

“I’m here to help. Can ye speak to me?” His eyes wavered back and forth between hers. “D’ye want something to drink?” She surveyed the room for the first time. Near the hearth stood a table, laden with food and drink. She crossed to it and poured a cup of water from a flagon.

Returning to the bed, she sat next to him and slid her free arm beneath his shoulders. With her help, he sat up enough to the drink from the cup she held for him. When he’d drained it, he fell back, what little strength he had depleted from the exertion.

Sirona cradled him against her. She brushed silky locks from his face and spoke to him in a soothing voice. “I need you to tell me what you feel. Do ye ache?” He was weak, but did not seem to be in any pain. She cast relief over him just the same. “Can ye speak to me?” she asked again.

He seemed to be trying to say something, but his voice was so faint, she had to lean close to hear him. His breath was warm on her ear, but sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“Let-me-die.”


BUY SIRONA

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Camulus: Gods of the Highlands Series Book 1

Camulus Vass wants a simple life, absent the power and responsibility that can consume a man. But being laird of a clan as large as the Munro does not offer such luxury. Always under the domineering heel of his uncle, Cam has allowed himself to become a pawn. But the arrival of a mysterious newcomer awakens a beast within him that will not be tamed.

Màili has been given the task of rooting out the spawn of an ancient god. It’s the only way to take her revenge against the man who betrayed her. But getting what she wants means taking the life of the man she loves. Will her hunger for a mortal man wreak further havoc on her already bleak future?

Excerpt
FIRST KISS:

Cam pulled the linen from his shaggy, ebony mane and locked his rich brown eyes, glistening with excitement, on hers. He stepped out of the tub, dropping the linen to the floor. "Come to me, woman." Cam wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He claimed her mouth with his, prying her lips open and invading her with the sweetest tasting tongue she had ever known.

Màili lost herself in that kiss. The power of it sent jolts of pleasure to every pore in her body. She tingled all over, her senses melding until she could no longer remember anything other than the man before her. She kissed him back with all the self–pity of a woman who had been betrayed by love and yearned to get even a piece of herself back.

The power of her desire for Cam surprised her. Màili was certainly no stranger to the ways of men and women. She had learned a lot over the centuries. This was the first time she had found anyone she thought could teach her anything. A nagging possibility tickled the edge of her thoughts, but she pushed it aside.

Màili dragged her mouth from his, nibbling along his jaw and across the pulse at his throat. With her hands on his chest, she urged him back toward the bed all the while trailing her lips, her tongue down his body. He tasted like nectar and all Màili could think of was more, more, more.

BUY CAMULUS

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Bambi Lynn Author Bio:  Yes, Bambi is my real name.

I grew up on a farm in South Georgia. My high school was very small with a graduating class of less than 100 people. Shortly after high school, I met my wonderful husband who took me to Belgium, where a three-year tour turned into fifteen. While living in Europe, I nurtured my love of all things medieval. I often get homesick for Belgium, but with the world wide web, I'm home with the click of a mouse. I now live with my husband and son in North Alabama.

When not plugging away at my keyboard, I teach World History. I love to ride my big, black Tennessee Walker, Jamaica. My husband and I each have a Harley to go with our collection of classic cars and hot rods.

AUTHOR LINKS

Website  ~  Facebook ~ Goodreads  ~ Twitter  


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$20 Amazon Gift Card
Gods of the Highlands Series

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Book Tour/Review: Secrets Don't Make Friends by Lyla Payne

Title: Secrets Don't Make Friends
Author: Lyla Payne


About the book: Jeyne Dalton has graduated from college, medical school, and has slogged through half of a surgical internship year with flying colors, which she figures HAS to mean she’s put her past – and her family – behind her for good. If only she hadn’t answered that random ad for a roommate, her life would be pretty damn perfect. 

Dinah Robbins knows that, no matter what she does, the horror that is her life will never be behind her…unless her controlling, threatening, abusive boyfriend finally kills her. She’s floating, waiting, and advertised for a roommate as a last ditch, listless effort to save herself a few beatings here and there. 

Jeyne and Dinah may have been roommates for months, but they’re not anything like friends. In fact, they hardly know each other at all – until the night Jeyne comes home late to find Dinah in a heap of trouble. The two girls then find themselves sharing a secret that brings them together in a way they never expected. And upends their lives in a way they may never be able to set right. 


My thoughts:  This book started out pretty heavy with a very realistic scene between Dinah and Tritt - her abusive boyfriend.  It was very hard for me to read because of personal reasons (no, nothing happened to me, but to someone very close to me). I am glad that I stayed with it though.  I liked the way that the friendship between Jeyne and Dinah developed after that first night.  They had both been very careful with letting anyone close to them and it was cool to see them slowly open up to each other and learn to trust.  The same can be said about the men in their lives. 

With Jeyne it was Nathan, a fellow doctor who has been her study partner for months.  She has been attracted to him from the beginning,  but until recently didn't think he was interested in her.  Unfortunately he is keeping secrets of his own and when they come out, Jeyne is not sure that they can still be friends - let alone anything else.

Dinah becomes friends with Eli - Tritt's younger brother.  She discovers things about him that make her realize that there were people who were trying to help her, even when she wasn't willing/able to help herself.  Overcoming/forgetting what brought them together might be tougher than they think though.

I liked this book and read it very quickly.  This looks like it might be the first in a series - so looking forward to what comes next. 

About the author: Lyla Payne has been publishing New Adult romance novels for a little over a year, starting with Broken at Love and continuing with the rest of the Whitman University series and the Lowcountry Ghost stories. She loves telling stories, discovering the little reasons people fall in love, and uncovering hidden truths in the world around us - past and present. In her spare time she cuddles her two dogs, pretends to enjoy exercising so that she can eat as much Chipotle as she wants, and harbors a deep and abiding hope that Zac Efron likes older women. She loves reading, of course, along with movies, traveling, and Irish whiskey. 

Lyla Payne is represented by Kathleen Rushall at Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.

If you want to know more, please visit her at http://lylapayne.com

If you're a fan of Young Adult fiction--science fiction or otherwise--please check out her work that's published under the name Trisha Leigh. http://trishaleigh.com

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Friday, March 4, 2016

Promo Blitz: Visions Through a Glass, Darkly by David I. Aboulafia






Visions Through a Glass, Darkly
by David I. Aboulafia
Psychological Suspense
Date Published: January 29, 2016

Two days, eighteen hours, fifty-eight minutes…The time of your life on this earth. Richard Goodman is the caretaker of a unique institution that trains disabled youth in the art of watchmaking. But he is no ordinary administrator. He possesses extrasensory powers he does not fully understand and cannot control.

But an innocent outing to Coney Island results in him obtaining a more disturbing ability, along with a terrifying prophecy that he will die in less than three days. As the clock of his life counts down, a still greater threat emerges. An uncanny assassin who will destroy everyone he knows and loves.

Unless he can discover who the killer is. And stop him in time.

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Praise for Visions Through a Glass, Darkly:
“A taut novel of suspense with a thread of the supernatural, Visions Through a Glass, Darkly seizes the reader’s attention and will not let go. Lurking underneath the saga of a psychic’s imminent mortality and the threat of a ruthless murderer are deeper thematic questions about the essence of human free will. An unforgettable, dizzying kaleidoscope of a thrill ride!” – Micah Andrews, Midwest Book Review



EXCERPT


Kara lies unconscious on the bed. The light bed covers accentuate her slightly swollen midsection. Richard pulls the covers back and places his hands there gently, ever so gently, looking up towards her eyes. Tears stain his face and it is all he can do to prevent bawling outright. He chokes back his anguish.

                And then he feels the movement, almost imperceptible, like a feather gliding over water, raising his fingers ever so slightly.

                She is alive. He knows she is a girl, and that she is his child, without having to consider how he knows.

                I’ve got a special announcement and I want to be in a fun place, DIG?

                He looks at Kara again, and tries at the same time to catch any stirring with his peripheral vision. Before him lies his hope for a future, just trying to survive a little longer now in her warm dark place.

                He forgets for a moment that the doctor is here. If she has noticed his blood covered clothing, she hasn’t let on that she has. She isn’t very old, this doctor of medicine, her human feelings not yet hardened to cold steel by a thousand unpreventable demises, her eyes not yet blinded to the suffering of the infirm, her ears not yet closed to the cries of the dying and those who love them.  

                He senses her spirit. She holds suffering at bay by the force of her will. She has acquired skill, and knowledge, and uses these as her weapons in her daily battles with the horrifying aftermath of blind fate, or poor choices, or bad luck. Sometimes, she prevails.

                She has also gained wisdom, enough to know that every victory is fleeting, that she may hold the bastion for only a little while, and that ultimately she is powerless to halt the advance of time, or death. For we are all so fragile; each of us and all of us together; so breakable, so faulty.   

                And Richard knows that she feels this, as well: That whatever it is she truly clashes against, that one day it will stop, and turn around, and reveal itself to her, and she will see It as if for the very first time. And then It will take her, as if in payment for the lives she has stolen.  

                Richard looked up at the physician, afraid of the truth he would see in her eyes. He never got that far, really. The Wave swept over him as it never had before, as if it had a weight and a mass all its own, robbing the oxygen from the air, choking him, catching the hope in his throat and making it impossible for him to speak. It covered him in a dank blanket of misery and wretchedness, pushing him far past the point where he was even capable of articulating the question “why,” to a desolate place where that word has no meaning, where the only explanation in reply is “because.”

                The Wave forced his eyes closed and compelled him to See, and what he perceived was himself as a character in Dostoevsky's novel, standing there on a rock three feet wide by three feet long, looking out over an endless sea with no other land in sight, with lightening crackling in the air and rain pouring down relentlessly, forever and for always, that black storm cresting, that ageless ocean lying before him until the end of time, he and It, he and It and nothing more; loneliness, true loneliness, killing the spirit and the soul but unmercifully leaving the body alive, leaving nothing but the husk of a man containing his skin, his bones, and his internal organs; lungs breathing, heart beating, body wracked by pain, pouring sweat, unwilling to stand but unable to fall, no reason to live but unable to die; not a scavenger in the sky, not the lowliest insect crawling on the ground, not even the dorsal fin of some fearsome beast below, nothing and no one, forever and for always alone alone alone.

                Here is fear, here is the end of all things, where all roads terminate, where all horror truly begins, where It lies and lives and rules and lords over nothing and everything; unspeakable dread where time does not exist, beyond reality, beyond the imagination of any reality, the mouth of the demon, the Center, the core, not a star in the firmament nor the faintest hope that there ever was, that there ever could be, that there ever will be, not here.

                Forever and for always. He was to be alone.   





About the Author: David I. Aboulafia is an attorney with a practice in New York City. He is also the author of “Snapshots from my Uneventful Life,” an irreverant collection of comedic essays.

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Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Promo Blitz: The Road Leads Back by Marci Boudreaux







Title: The Road Leads Back
Author: Marci Boudreaux
Contemporary Romance
Date Published: April 2015

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Kara Martinson and Harry Canton weren’t exactly high school sweethearts, but they did share one night neither will ever forget. Twenty-seven years later, Harry surprises Kara at an art gallery opening and discovers he left her with more than just memories when he went away to college. Desperate to connect with the family he never knew existed, Harry convinces his son to move to Stonehill—and pleads with Kara to come, too.

Kara hasn’t stepped foot in their hometown since the day she was sent away to a home for unwed mothers. Now Harry’s back in her life and as they put together the pieces of his parents’ betrayal, old heartaches start to feel anew. She wants to be near her family, but returning to Iowa means facing some things…and some people…she isn’t quite ready to.

Can Harry convince her to forgive those who betrayed her so they can embrace the future they were robbed of so long ago? Or will the pain of the past be too much for Kara to overcome?


Other books in the Stonehill Romance Series




Excerpt


Kara squeezed her way toward the crowded bar, nudging between two kids who she couldn’t quite believe were old enough to be legally drinking in public. Shouldn’t they be funneling cheap beer in a college dorm somewhere? Or sneaking shots from Daddy’s liquor cabinet?

Art gallery openings used to be much more sophisticated than this. When she was a young artist, openings were about appreciating the art and the artist, not the free booze.

Shit.

Had she really gone there? Kara shook her head at her bitter thoughts.

The bartender, a walking tattoo with spiked black hair, leaned close so she could hear him. “What’ll it be?”

She realized all she wanted was wine. And quiet. The kids around her were acting more like pre-teens jacked up on sugar than art aficionados. One made a face, squished and reddened, as he held up an empty shot glass as proof of his triumph.

She wondered when she had gotten so damned old. She never used to snub her nose at a good drink. Actually, she completely understood what her problem was, and it had nothing to do with age. She’d conformed. She’d fallen into line. She’d done what she was supposed to do. Agent? Check. Gallery opening? Check. Interviews with all the local fancy-pants magazines? Check.

But this wasn’t her. None of this was her.

Frowning, she leaned in as well, making sure he heard her over the jeering of the kids next to her. “Tequila.” Within seconds he set a glass in front of her and filled it with amber liquid. He started to walk away but she held up one hand and lifted the glass with the other. She downed the drink, slammed the glass down, and gestured for another—one shot wasn’t nearly enough to numb the misery of this evening.

The young man lifted his brows and smirked as he gav­­­e her another shot. He laughed as she motioned for him to fill the glass a third time. “I can’t do this all night, lady.”

“One more.”

“Some of the crap in here costs more than my car. No puking. Got it?”

Kara chuckled. Clearly he didn’t recognize her as the artist who had made the crap. “Honey, I was doing tequila shots before your daddy dropped his pants and made you.”

The barkeep threw his head back and laughed, then filled her glass one more time. “Nice one, babe.”

Babe? Kara snorted as she lifted the glass. It was almost to her lips when a hand squeezed her shoulder.

 “Kara?” asked a deep, smooth voice as if the man wasn’t certain who he was touching.

She turned. Her eyes bulged as she looked into an intense dark gaze she hadn’t seen since the night she’d lost her virginity.

The music had been loud, the beer lukewarm, and everybody who was anybody—and several nobody’s like Kara and Harry—in their senior class of Stonehill High was at the graduation party. The only person she had cared about, though, didn’t care about her. Or so she’d thought. Until she’d somehow ended up on Shannon Blake’s disgustingly pink- and ruffle-covered bed with Harry Canton, book club president and algebra superstar, clumsily removing her clothes, leaving slobbery kisses in their wake.

Kara swallowed hard as the flash of a memory faded, and the man standing before her, looking as shocked as she felt, came back into view.

She downed the liquor, slammed the glass against the bar, and sighed before she announced, “I’ve been looking for you for twenty-seven years.”

He sank onto the vacant stool next to her and lifted his hands as if he were at a loss for words. Something that appeared to be guilt filled his eyes and made his full lips sag into a frown. She’d be damned if temptation didn’t hit her as hard as it had when she was a hormonal teen.

“I wanted to tell you I was leaving,” he said, “but I didn’t know how.”

“You should have tried something like, ‘Kara, I’m leaving.’”

“You’re right. But I was a kid. I didn’t have a lot of common sense. All I could think about was how I finally had my freedom.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You had your freedom? You selfish prick.”

His eyes widened. “Well, that might be a little harsh. I was just a kid, Kara. Yes, I should have told you I had no intention of staying with you, but I was a little overwhelmed by what had happened. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

Harry’s shoulders slumped as if he had given up justifying sneaking out on her in the middle of the night. “Look, I saw a flier for your gallery opening, and I wanted to say hello. I thought maybe… I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sounded hurt, dejected even. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He stood. She put her hand to his chest and shoved him back onto the barstool. The move instantly reminded of her their one night together. All of seventeen and totally inexperienced, she’d fancied herself a seductress and pushed him on the bed before straddling his hips like she had a clue what she was doing.

Touching his chest now, warmth radiated through her entire body.

She glared, pulling her hand away and squeezing her fingers into a fist. “Are you living in Seattle?”

He shook his head. “I had a conference in town. There were fliers at the hotel. As soon as I saw your picture, I knew I had to come.” His smile returned and excitement radiated from his face. “I can’t believe you have a gallery opening. This is amazing, Kare.”

She wasn’t nearly as thrilled by her accomplishment as he seemed to be. She felt like she was selling her soul instead of her art. She’d always preferred to go the indie route, but that crap agent had cornered her at a particularly vulnerable moment and convinced her she needed him…just like he convinced her she needed to be in a gallery. Although, now she was glad she’d conceded on the open bar.

The tequila swirled through her, making her muscles tingle, preventing her from fully engaging the near-three decades of anger she’d been harboring. She had spent an awfully long time wanting to give Harry Canton a piece of her mind.

Even so, hearing him say she’d done something amazing warmed her in a way very little ever had. If he had come looking for another one-night stand, she hated to admit that she would consider reliving that night again—only this time with more sexual experience and less expectation of him sticking around.

He might be almost three decades older, but his face was still handsome and his brown eyes were just as inviting as they had been when he was a high school prodigy and she was a wallflower.

She smirked at a realization: he was in a suit, probably having just left a corporate meeting, while she was wearing a red sari-inspired dress at her gallery opening.

He was still the straight arrow. She was still the eccentric artist.

“Did you hear what I said, Harry? About looking for you for the last twenty-seven years.”

His shoulders sagged. “I never meant to sleep with you that night. I mean”—he quickly lifted his hands—“I was leaving and should have told you before taking you upstairs. I shouldn’t have just left like that, but I didn’t think you wanted to see me again anyway. If it’s any consolation,” he said giving her a smile that softened the rough edges of her anger, “I’d been working up the courage to kiss you since junior year when you squeezed a tube of red paint in Mitch Friedman’s hair after he made jokes about Frida Kahlo’s eyebrows in art class.”

She frowned at him. That hadn’t been her finest hour. Then again, neither was waking up thinking she was starting a new life as a high school graduate and the girlfriend of the cutest boy she’d ever met, only to find the other side of the homecoming queen’s bed empty. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman embracing her natural beauty.”

His smile faded quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “I shouldn’t have left you like I did. I hope you believe that I regret it. Not being with you,” he amended, “but leaving without explaining.”

She laughed softly. He’d had that same nervous habit in high school. He’d say what was on his mind and then instantly try to recover, afraid his words had come out wrong. Usually they had. For as awkward as she’d been, at least she’d always been able to say what she meant and to stand behind it. Of course, that ability got her in trouble more often than not.

She’d told herself a million times that Harry didn’t owe her an explanation. They hadn’t been in any kind of relationship. She’d drooled over him from afar, but other than an occasional smile in the hallway, he’d barely acknowledged her existence in high school. Even if he hadn’t gone off to start his Ivy League college career the day after graduation, he likely never would have looked at her again. Well, at least not until she could no longer hide the truth of their one-night stand from the world.

 “I expected so much more from you, Harry,” she said sadly, the sting of what he’d done back then numbed slightly by the tequila.

His shoulders sagged a bit. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you ever write me back?” Her voice sounded hurt and pathetic. She was surprised that after so many years of being angry, there was still pain hiding beneath her fury. “I must have sent you a hundred letters.”

He creased his brow. “Letters? I didn’t get any letters.”

Kara searched his eyes. He looked genuinely confused.

“I sent them to…” Her words faded. Suddenly the tequila-induced haze wasn’t so welcome. “Your mother said if I wrote to you, she’d make sure you got my letters.”

“My mother? I never got any letters.”

“But you sent money.”

Harry shook his head slightly. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I send you money?”

She stared at him as realization set in. He hadn’t responded to her letters because he hadn’t received her letters. And if he hadn’t received the letters, he hadn’t sent her money. And if he hadn’t sent her money, he hadn’t known that she needed it. Sighing, she let some of her decades-old anger slip. Her head spun, either from the alcohol or the blurry dots she was trying to mentally connect. Leaning onto the bar, she exhaled slowly. “She never told you, did she?”

“Told me what?”

Kara couldn’t speak. Her words wouldn’t form.

An arm wrapped around Kara’s shoulder, startling her and making her gasp quietly. She turned and blinked several times at the man who had just slid next to her.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I need to get home.” Leaning in, he kissed her head. “Congratulations on the opening, Mom. It was great.”

“Um…” She swallowed, desperate to find her voice. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She flicked her gaze at the man sitting next to her. The longer Harry looked at her son, the wider Harry’s eyes became.

Phil cast a disapproving glance at Harry then focused on his mother again. “Don’t forget that Jess is expecting you to make pancakes in the morning. You promised.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Kara returned her attention to Harry. His jaw was slack and his cheeks had grown pale.

Phil nodded at Harry as if he were satisfied that he’d made the point that his mother didn’t need to be staying out all night and walked away. Harry watched him leave while Kara waved down the bartender and pointed at her glass. The tattooed kid hesitated, likely debating the ethics of giving her another shot. She pointed again, cocking a brow for emphasis, and he finally filled her glass.

“Kara…” Harry’s voice was breathless, like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Was…was that my…son?”

No. His mother definitely hadn’t given him the letters Kara had written. She lifted her shot, toasting him. “Congratulations, Harry. It’s a boy.”







About the Author

As a teen, Marci Boudreaux skipped over young adult books and jumped right into the world of romance novels. She’s never left. Marci lives with her husband, two kiddos, and their numerous pets. She is a freelance writer appearing monthly in a variety of local magazines as well as a content editor.
Romance is her preferred reading and writing genre because nothing feels better than falling in love with someone new and her husband doesn’t like when she does that in real life.



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