Showing posts with label Susan Mallery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Susan Mallery. Show all posts

August 21, 2023

HTP Romance Reads Promo Post: Suddenly This Summer by Susan Mallery, Synthia Williams, and Stefanie London

at 8/21/2023 01:30:00 AM 0 comments


Nothing is sweeter than the first kiss of summer...

SAY YOU'LL STAY by Susan Mallery. Shaye Harper has sworn off men for good. But when she meets army vet Lawson Easley during a pit stop on the road to a fresh start, she’s drawn in by the quirky town—and the handsome stranger she can’t resist. Lawson knows there’s no place better than Wishing Tree. Too bad the woman he's certain is “the one” is just passing through…unless he can convince her to give him and his hometown a chance at forever.

THE TIME FOR KEEPS by Synithia Williams. Home to care for her ailing father, Michaela Spears is on a mission: reconcile with the one man she can’t forget. She broke his heart years ago, so when Khalil appears on her parents’ doorstep in his scrubs, she knows it’s her last chance. Khalil Davenport shouldn’t have taken the job as her dad’s home nurse, but he couldn't resist her. Their timing was never right, but now can he trust that she’s home to stay?

BEST MAN NEXT DOOR by Stefanie London. For Sage Nilsen, coming back to her small Massachusetts hometown for a family wedding feels like high school all over again. Except Jamie Hackett has gone from charming boy next door to handsome best man. And sparks are suddenly flying between the popular guy and the so-called outcast. As the wedding gets closer, Sage finds herself on the edge of something unexpected—a second chance in the town she left behind…with the guy she’s never forgotten.


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Suddenly This Summer

Best Man Next Door by Stefanie London


CHAPTER ONE


Before today, Jamie Hackett had thought he’d already faced death.

Like the time he dove off a cliff on a dare, plunging into the ocean with the speed of a bullet. Or

the time he’d come face-to-face with a territorial goose who’d gone apeshit at him for getting too

close to her goslings. Or when his car skidded across a patch of black ice in the middle of winter

and he’d narrowly missed crash- ing into a big oak tree.

He’d been cool as a cucumber, every single time.

But it turned out he hadn’t really faced death. Now that he’d confronted it for real, he understood

what it felt like.

Jamie glanced around the sterile white hospital hall- way, feeling weirdly disconnected from it

all. If some- one had told him he was floating in the air, watching everything happen from above,

he would have believed it. Giving himself a shake, he reached one hand to his opposite arm and

pinched himself. Hard. He winced from the pain.

Still alive.

But the quicker he was out of here the better.

His mom stood at the administration desk, her shoulders hunched. Exhaustion seeped into her posture and made her look even smaller than usual. When she turned to face him, he noticed her blouse was buttoned wrong and her curly ginger hair was sticking out in all directions like it always did when she didn’t have time to style it.

“Ready to go, hon?” She tried to smile, but her eyes were watery and the dark shadows circling underneath made her look hollowed out.

You did that to her.

He nodded.

“Your dad has gone to get the car so he can meet us out front.” She slipped her arm into his and held him close, her fingernails biting into his skin, as if she was worried he’d float away like a discarded balloon if she didn’t hold on tight enough. “No need to rush—we’ll walk slow.”

“You didn’t have to wait around. I could have gotten a cab,” he said quietly. He kept his gaze averted from the goings-on around him, not wanting to see the people being wheeled about and the elderly folk shuffling along, walking their fluid bags like strange, lifeless pets.

It freaked him out.

He was thirty-two for crying out loud. Thirty-two with his whole life ahead of him. With decades ahead of him.

“Jamie Hackett, if you think I would let my child come home from hospital in a cab then I don’t even know…” Her voice broke as she shook her head, still clutching him tightly. He could hear the tears she was holding back, companions of the ones she’d been shedding ever since she’d arrived at the hospital yesterday. “Of course we were going to take you home.”

There was no point arguing. Patty Hackett was an overprotective mama bear at the best of times, let alone when one of her own was hurt. Although really, aside from a few stitches in the back of his head and some chest pain that felt like a couple of boulders had been propped there, Jamie was walking away from this situation a lot better than he could have.

A lot better than what would have been if his best friend hadn’t saved him.

When they made it outside, Jamie sucked in as much air as his lungs would allow, and even though doing so burned, he had to clear the hospital smells from his nostrils. It was warm and sunny out, with a clear blue sky and not a cloud to be seen. The perfect early summer day.

Perfect like it had been the previous evening when he’d decided to get a good sweaty workout in. Perfect like when he’d jogged across the gym floor, warm sunshine streaming in through the windows and the high-quality shock-absorbent flooring cushioning his feet. Perfect like when his fists had sailed at the heavy punching bag, the repetitive pounding motion better than any form of therapy he’d found to date.

Perfect…until he’d almost died.

Jamie shook the dark thoughts from his head as his father pulled the family SUV up in front of the hospital’s pick-up area. His mom rushed forward to open the passenger side door for him.

“I can open the door myself, okay?” he said. He hated seeing her worry like this. Hated knowing that he caused it. “You don’t need to wait on me.”

“Just get in the car, James,” she sighed and shot him a look that told him there was no point arguing. It was easier to do what he was told. And if she was calling him by his full name, it meant she was a hair away from clipping his ear.

So he climbed into the car without another word.

“Son.” His father looked over to him with a crinkled brow. “Let your mother fuss. She needs it.”

Jamie nodded. “You’re right.”

His father turned to face the road as the back door opened and Patty climbed in, scrambling to hoist her small frame up into the giant SUV like she always did. The ride home was filled with rapid-fire questions from the back seat.

Why didn’t you tell us you were stressed out?

Should you be talking to a professional about your problems?

Is it happening again?

The last one made a weird acidic taste burn in the back of his throat. No matter how many years he put between himself and The Great Breakdown of his early twenties, he was frequently reminded that nobody would ever forget it happened.

Because when you were a world-class athlete, your failures didn’t only become gossip—they became lore.

“The doctor said you need to keep your stress levels down and take a break from work,” his mother relayed. “This could happen again. She said that panic attacks can be triggered by working too much and not getting enough rest, and—”

“I know, Mom. I was there.”

“We care about you, Jamie.” His father’s voice was gruff. “This isn’t about blame or trying to make you feel bad. You know that, right?”

Despite everything that had happened in the past, his parents had never once made him feel like he was to blame for what had happened…even if he himself had felt like a giant failure.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

“And the doctor said we need to keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours to make sure there are no complications,” Patty continued. The car rolled smoothly along the highway, other vehicles passing them at a rapid pace thanks to his dad’s careful—read: slow—driving. “I got your sister to set up the spare bedroom at our place. And don’t bother protesting about going home by yourself because I won’t have it.”

Jamie glanced at his father, who simply shrugged as if to say, she’s the boss. Too right. Nobody was under any illusions about who was head of their household, that was for damn sure.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mom. But what about—”

“Flash is staying at Clay’s house,” she said without letting him finish. “He said we could leave him there until you were ready to go home.”

Whenever Jamie wasn’t feeling himself, the first thing he wanted to do was to hang out with his dog. They really were man’s best friend. No doubt Jamie’s business partner, Clay Harris, would spoil him rotten with treats and belly scratches, so it wasn’t like he’d be sad having a sleepover.

Jamie watched the scenery roll along outside the window. Soon they were approaching Reflection Bay, the town where he’d spent most of his life—a town that wasn’t even big enough for its own hospital.

He’d driven along this road so many times he’d lost count, watching the silvery blue of the ocean flicker between patches of green and rugged cliff faces, the tourist-favorite red-and-white lighthouse rising up in the distance. It was the same as it had always been and yet…it felt different now.

Everything felt different.

Forty-eight hours after returning home from the hospital, Jamie was “discharged” from the Hackett Family Hospital. But not without needing to pass a rigorous interrogation from his mother. If someone had overheard the conversation, they might mistake Patty Hackett for an actual doctor rather than the elementary school art teacher she was.

But now that Jamie could taste the sweet air of freedom, he was happier than ever to be alive. Especially since he had been reunited with his canine best friend.

“Isn’t it glorious? The sun is shining. The birds are singing.” Jamie glanced down at his dog, Flash, who ambled with the kind of gait that could only be described as “walking under duress.” “Oh, come on, bud. It’s not that bad.”

The chunky fawn-and-white bulldog looked up at him with imploring eyes as if to say, please make it stop. Flash, named in the most ironic fashion, hated working out as much as Jamie loved it. In fact, it was somewhat of a local joke that the two fittest guys in town had adopted the laziest dog ever as the mascot for their gym.

But Jamie loved Flash with everything he had. The dog might not be able to move faster than a drunk snail, but he had a heart of gold. Flash was always happy to see Jamie, never judged him for working too long or for stressing out too much about his business, and loved nothing more than just hanging out. No expectations, no bullshit.

That was love.


The pair ambled along the street. His business, Reflection Fitness, sat right at the end of the main strip, on a corner. It never failed to make pride surge through Jamie’s veins to see what he and Clay had built together. Their goal had been to create a gym that catered to all the people in their small town, leaving no one to feel like they didn’t belong. Reflection Fitness had clients who were training for big goals like marathons and fitness competitions, as well as clients like Jamie’s grandpa—who was combating osteoarthritis with regular, low-intensity workouts—and Jamie’s favorite personal training client—a bubbly woman in her forties who’d decided to try weight lifting after years of thinking cardio was the only option for women. They had a trainer on staff who specialized in pre- and post-natal fitness and another who ran classes for seniors aimed at improving joint mobility. They had built the gym to be accessible for clients with mobility needs. It was important to both Jamie and Clay that everyone who came to the gym felt welcomed and catered to.

“Let’s get you inside where there’s some air-conditioning, huh?” Jamie looked down at Flash, who was taking each plodding step with great effort. To be fair to the dog, it was unseasonably hot for so early in the summer. “We’re almost there.”

Jamie turned the corner to access the gym from the back door, which led directly into the office he and Clay shared. He tried not to take Flash through the front if he could help it, in case anyone working out had asthma or allergies. But when Jamie got to the door and tried to turn the handle, he found it locked.

“Weird,” he muttered.

The back was usually open if Clay was working, which he should be, given the hour. But perhaps he’d stepped out.

Jamie tried unlocking it. Only…the key wouldn’t fit.

“What the heck?” He tried again. No dice.

He stared at the key, wondering if the knock he’d taken to the back of his head had done more damage than he’d realized. But no, it was definitely the right key.

Befuddled, Jamie walked Flash around to the front of the gym, where a sleek set of glass doors opened to a small reception area. The space was light and welcoming, with a big potted plant and a white couch in one corner. An old black-and-white photo hung on the wall, showing Clay and Jamie in their high school days, arms around each other—a tennis racket in Jamie’s hand and a basketball in Clay’s.

“Jamie!” The receptionist, Sara, brightened when she saw him. She wore a blue Reflection Fitness uniform polo shirt and her long, dark brown hair hung over her shoulder in twin braids. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better,” he replied breezily. “And thank you for sending those flowers to Mom’s place. That wasn’t necessary.”

“Everyone was thinking about you.” Her brow wrinkled. “We were all so worried when Clay told us what happened!”

Ugh, Clay. The guy had a big mouth.

“I told him to keep it quiet,” Jamie muttered. “In any case, I appreciate the gesture. Mom commandeered the flowers right away for her living room.”

Sara laughed. “That’s why I picked tulips. I had a feeling she would end up with them.”

Mama Hackett was a favorite among the staff since she often made oatmeal cookies, energy balls and other healthy treats for everyone who worked at Reflection Fitness.

“Is Clay in?” Jamie asked. “I tried the back door, but I think something’s wrong with my key.”

“Uh…” Sara’s expression turned strange, and she reached for the phone on the desk. “Let me call him through.”

“It’s okay, I’ll head in.” Jamie had his swipe pass on hand, like always, and he tapped it against the electronic reader which activated the gate into the gym.

The screen flashed red and made an angry beep sound.

First his key didn’t fit the lock and now his pass wasn’t working. What the—

“Jamie.”

He looked up and saw Clay striding through the gym toward the foyer, a no-nonsense look on his face. At six foot five with shoulders that could bridge two cities, Clay had the perfect build for the sport he’d loved as a child—basketball. He had dark brown skin, warm eyes and close-cropped curly black hair. Usually, Clay would be flashing his signature charming smile—a smile that had won over just about every cheerleader the guy had ever encountered in his high school and college days. A smile that, now, was conspicuously absent.

“You locked me out.” Jamie shook his head in disbelief. “You changed the locks on the office without telling me?”

“Outside, now.” Clay pointed to the front doors as he strode through the gate. “We’re not doing this in front of the clients.”

Sara dropped her head and pretended to bury herself in work, ignoring Jamie’s gaze pleading for support.

He let out an irritated huff. “Fine.”

The two men walked back outside and Jamie felt a pang of guilt as Flash made a noise of protest about returning to the hot summer day. The trio rounded the corner away from the front of the gym so they could have it out.

“This is for your own good, Jamie.” Clay held up his hands, signaling he didn’t want a fight. Despite being strong enough to beat most men in anything physical, Clay was a gentle giant with a big heart.

He was also, however, stubborn as an ox.

“We’re partners, Clay. You can’t lock me out of my own damn business.” Jamie gestured with his free hand toward the building next to them. “That’s…that’s got to be illegal.”

Clay folded his arms across his chest. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t take this seriously. The doctor said you need to rest and your mom told me to keep an eye on you, because she’s worried, too.”

Typical Patty. Jamie made a sound of disbelief. “I rested.”

“For two days.” Clay shook his head. “That’s not enough.”

“Man, it was nothing. You’re overreacting.”

“I am not overreacting. Do you have any idea what it’s like to walk up on your best friend lying unconscious on the floor? I thought you’d had a heart attack or something. I thought you were dead.”

He felt terrible for putting Clay through that, but he was already feeling vulnerable about this whole thing. He couldn’t let his friend see how much it had shaken him.

“So dramatic.” Jamie rolled his eyes.

“See, this—” Clay circled a finger at his face just like his mom used to when they were naughty kids “—is why I know you’re not listening to what the doctor said. You came right here to go back to doin’ exactly what you were doin’ before.”

“Building our business?” he replied, biting back his frustration.

“Running yourself into the ground. Wake up, Jamie.” Clay shook his head. “You might not be so lucky next time.”

“It’s my call to determine whether I’m ready to come back, not yours.”

“It sure is, because I won’t give you a new key until I’m sure you’re actually taking this thing seriously.”

Jamie’s mouth popped open. “You can’t do that!”

“Sure I can. It’s my name on the lease, remember?”

Oh yeah. That. He’d been meaning to get that bit of paperwork updated for almost three years now, but it was one of those things that kept falling off his to-do list in favor of more impactful items. Besides, he’d always thought Clay would never do him dirty, so it didn’t seem like a big deal.

“It’s our business, no matter what the lease says.”

“Jamie, I’m doing this because you’re my best friend. I want you to take care of yourself.” Clay looked genuinely concerned. “Coach always used to say a heart that pumps too fast is no better than one that doesn’t pump at all. Rest is as important as work.”

Jamie let out a groan. “Sitting at a desk isn’t exactly strenuous. I just need to answer some emails—”

“And then you’ll just need to look at some spreadsheets and make some calls and then some new client will come to you with a sob story and you’ll squeeze them in even though you said you weren’t going to take on any more PT clients yourself.” Clay shook his head. “I know your tricks, man. Don’t try to play me.”

“But what about the clients I have—”

“I split them up between the other trainers. It’s already done.”

“You called everyone already?” Jamie scrubbed a hand over his face. “I told you I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I said you were helping me plan stuff for the wedding. Best man shit.” Clay grinned and Jamie found his anger withering away. It really was hard to hate the guy when he smiled. “You’re loyal like that.”

He let out a strangled noise of frustration. “I’ll call the locksmith myself.”

“Then he’s gonna have to get through me.”

Jamie considered his options. Anyone who didn’t know Clay might be too intimidated to try changing the locks against his wishes and anyone who did know him would be too charmed to want to try. Fact was, his best friend had him over a barrel.

“What am I supposed to do with myself, huh?” Jamie hated the panic in his voice. Who on earth felt panicked at the prospect of time off?

“I don’t know. Play ping-pong with your dad, go up to the Cape, sleep in. You’re a big boy—you’ll figure it out.”

Clay’s hand came down hard on Jamie’s shoulder, earning him a soft grunt. There was no reasoning with the guy, that much was clear.

Maybe Clay and his mom were right and this was serious. Jamie could have died. When he’d woken up in the ambulance, everything had flashed before his eyes—his whole life. His family. Work. His failed professional tennis career. His business. Long hours at his computer after longer days on the gym floor. Chasing the next thing, expanding the business, more clients, more money. Never satisfied. Always restless.

Was that all his life was about?

He’d always been hyper competitive, driven, and ambitious. But what if he had died the other day? What would he have left behind?

Jamie realized then that Clay was looking at him, as if waiting for him to speak. “No sweat. You want me to chill for a bit, fine. I can do that. You’ll see this isn’t a big deal.”

But even as he brushed off the severity of the incident, he knew the earth had shifted beneath his feet. What he’d thought was solid ground was now loose earth and uneven terrain. He needed to find his footing again. He needed to get himself straight. Most of all, he needed to prove to everyone that this was just a one-off. That he could handle pressure—unlike when he was younger.

Because he couldn’t ever go back to being Jamie Can’t-Hackett ever again.


Excerpted from Suddenly This Summer by Susan Mallery, Synithia Williams, Stefanie London. The Best Man Next Door by Stefanie London Copyright © 2023 by Stefanie Little. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.



About the Authors


Photo Credit: Annie Brady

Susan Mallery is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship, romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to agree—40 million copies of her books have sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live. Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She's passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as mom. Visit Susan online at www.susanmallery.com.

Social Links

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads




Photo Credit: Kristen Gordon, Lavish Moments Photography


Synithia Williams has loved romance novels since reading her first one at the age of 13. It was only natural that she would one day write her own romance. When she isn’t writing, Synithia works on water quality issues in the Midlands of South Carolina while taking care of her supportive husband and two sons. You can learn more about Synithia by visiting her website, www.synithiawilliams.com.


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Photo Credit: Jimmy America


Stefanie London is a USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary romances and romantic comedies. Her books have been called “genuinely entertaining and memorable” by Booklist and have won multiple industry awards, including the HOLT Medallion and OKRWA National Readers’ Choice Award. Originally from Australia, Stefanie lives in Toronto with her very own hero and is doing her best to travel the world. She frequently indulges in her passions for good coffee, lipstick, romance novels and anything zombie related. Visit Stefanie online at Stefanie-London.com.

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March 9, 2023

Blog Tour Promo Post: The Sister Effect by Susan Mallery

at 3/09/2023 01:30:00 AM 0 comments

Susan Mallery’s newest hardcover is an emotional, witty, and heartfelt story of Finley who is raising her niece because her long-addicted sister, Sloane, abandoned her. When Sloane reappears, eager to build a relationship with her daughter, Finley will struggle with forgiveness, the ties that bind a family together, and the fragility of trust.

Finley McGowan is determined that the niece she’s raising will always feel loved and wanted. Unlike she felt after her mom left to pursue a dream of stardom and her grandfather abandoned her and her sister Sloane when they needed him most. Finley reacted to her chaotic childhood by walking the straight and narrow—nose down, work hard, follow the rules.

Sloane went the other way.

Now Sloane is back, as beautiful and damaged as ever, and wants a relationship with her daughter. She says she’s changed, but Finley’s heart has been bruised once too often for her to trust easily. With the help of a man who knows all too well how messy families can be, Finley will learn there’s joy in surrendering and peace in letting go.

Mallery, with wisdom, compassion and her trademark humor, explores the nuances of a broken family’s complex emotions as they strive to become whole, in this uplifting story of human frailty and resilience.


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Chapter One


Finley McGowan loved her niece Aubrey with all her heart, but there was no avoiding the truth—Aubrey had not been born with tap dance talent. While the other eight-year-olds moved in perfect rhythm, Aubrey was just a half beat behind. Every time. Like a sharp, staccato echo as the song “Counting Stars” by OneRepublic played over the dance studio’s sound system.

Finley felt a few of the moms glance at her, as if gauging her reaction to Aubrey’s performance, but Finley only smiled and nodded along, filled with a fierce pride that Aubrey danced with enthusiasm and joy. If tap was going to be her life, then the rhythm thing would matter more, but Aubrey was still a kid and trying new things. So she wasn’t great at dance, or archery, or swimming—she was a sweet girl who had a big heart and a positive outlook on life. That was enough of a win for Finley. She could survive the jarring half-beat echo until her niece moved on to another activity.

The song ended and the adults gathered for the monthly update performance clapped. Aubrey rushed toward her aunt, arms outstretched for a big hug. Finley caught her and pulled her close.

“Excellent performance,” she said, smoothing the top of her head. “You weren’t nervous.”

“I know. I don’t get scared anymore. I really liked the song and the routine was fun to learn. Thank you for helping me practice.”

“Anytime.”

When Aubrey had first wanted to study tap, Finley had gone online to find instructions to build a small, homemade tap floor. They’d put it out in the garage, and hooked up a Bluetooth speaker. Every afternoon, before dinner, Finley had played “Counting Stars” and called out the steps so Aubrey could memorize her routine. Next week the dance students would get a new routine and new song, and the process would start all over again. Finley really hoped the new music wouldn’t be annoying—given that she was going to have to listen to it three or four hundred times over the next few weeks.

They walked to the cubbies, where Aubrey pulled a sweatshirt over her leotard, then traded tap shoes for rain boots. April in the Pacific Northwest meant gray, wet skies and cool temperatures. Finley made sure her niece had her backpack from school, then waved goodbye to the instructor before ushering Aubrey to her Subaru.

While her niece settled in the passenger side back seat, Finley put the backpack within arm’s reach. Inevitably, despite the short drive home, Aubrey would remember something she had to share and would go scrambling for it. Finley didn’t want a repeat of the time her niece had unfastened her seat belt and gone shimmying into the cargo area to dig out her perfect spelling test. Going sixty miles an hour down the freeway with an eight-year-old as a potential projectile had aged Finley twenty years.

“We got our history project,” Aubrey announced as Finley started the car. “We’re going to be working in teams to make a diorama of a local Native American tribe. There’s four of us in our group.” She paused dramatically. “Including Zoe!”

“Zoe red hair or Zoe black hair?”

Aubrey laughed. “Zoe black hair. If it had been Zoe red hair, my life would have been ruined forever.”

“Over a diorama? Shouldn’t your life be ruined over running out of ice cream or a rip in your favorite jacket?”

“Dioramas are important.” She paused. “And hard to spell. We’re going to pick our tribe tomorrow, then research them and decide on the diorama. I want to do totem poles. The different animals tell a story and I think that would be nice. Oliver wants a bear attacking a village, but Zoe is vegetarian and doesn’t want to see any blood.” Aubrey wrinkled her nose. “I eat meat and I wouldn’t want to see blood either. Harry agrees with me on the totems, but Zoe isn’t sure.”

“So much going on,” Finley said, not sure she could keep up with the third-grade diorama drama.

“I know. Could we stop at the cake store on the way home? For Grandma? She’s been sad.” Aubrey leaned forward as far as her seat belt would let her. “I don’t understand, though. I thought being on Broadway was a good thing.”

“It is.”

“So Grandma was a good teacher for her student. Why isn’t she happy?”

Finley wondered how to distill the emotional complexity that was her mother in a few easy-to-understand concepts. No way she was getting into the fact that her mother had once wanted to be on Broadway herself, only to end up broke and the mother of two little girls. The best Molly had managed for her theater career was a few minor roles in traveling companies. Eventually motherhood and the need to be practical had whittled away her dream until it was only a distant memory. These days she taught theater at the local community college and gave intensive acting classes in her basement. It was the latter that had been the cause of her current depression.

“Her student wasn’t grateful for all Grandma did for her. When she got the big role, she didn’t call or text and she didn’t say thank you for all of Grandma’s hard work.”

Molly had not only found her student a place to stay, she’d worked her contacts to get the audition in the first place. Finley might not understand the drive to stand in front of an audience, pretending to be someone else, but if it was your thing, then at least act human when someone gave you a break.

Finley glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Aubrey’s eyes widen.

“You’re always supposed to say thank you.”

“I know.”

“Poor Grandma. We have to buy her cake. The little one with the sprinkles she likes.”

Finley held in a grin. “And maybe a chocolate one for you and me to share?”

“Oh, that would be very nice, but we could just get one for Grandma if you think that’s better.”

Finley was sure that Aubrey almost meant those last words. At least in the moment. Should she follow through and not buy a second small cake, her niece would be crushed. Brave, but crushed.

Nothing Bundt Cakes wasn’t on the way home, but it wasn’t that far out of the way. Finley headed along Bothell-Everett Highway until she reached Central Market, across from the library. She turned left and parked in front of the bakery. She and Aubrey walked inside.

Her niece rushed to the display. “Look, they have the confetti ones Grandma likes. They’re so pretty.”

The clerk smiled. “Can I help you?”

“A couple of the little cakes,” Finley told her. “A confetti and a chocolate, please.”

Aubrey shot her a grateful look, then tapped on the case. “Could we get a vanilla one? I see Mom on Saturday afternoon. I could take her a cake.”

The unpleasant reminder of Aubrey’s upcoming visitation had Finley clenching her jaw. She consciously relaxed as she said, “It’s only Wednesday. I don’t know if the cake will still be fresh.”

“Just keep it in the refrigerator,” the clerk told her. “They’re good for five days after purchase.”

Aubrey jumped in place, her enthusiasm making her clap loudly. “That’s enough time.” She counted off the days. “Thursday, Friday, Saturday. That’s only three days. Mom will love her little cake so much.” She pressed her hands together. “Vanilla is her favorite.”

Finley told herself that of course Aubrey cared about her mother. Most kids loved their parents, regardless of how irresponsible those parents might be. It was a biological thing. Sloane was doing better these days. Maybe this time she would stay sober and out of prison. Something Finley could wish for, but didn’t actual believe.

Finley nodded at the clerk. “We’ll take all three, please.”

Aubrey rushed toward her and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Thank you, Finley. For the cake and coming to my performance and helping me practice.”

“I seem to be stuck loving you, kid. I try not to, but you’re just so adorable. I can’t help myself.”

Aubrey laughed, looking up at her. Finley ignored how much her niece looked like Sloane—they had the same big blue eyes and full mouth, the same long curly hair. Aubrey was a pretty girl but like her mother, she would mature into a stunning woman one day, as had her grandmother Molly before her. Only Finley was ordinary—a simple seagull in a flock of exotic parrots.

Probably for the best, she told herself as she paid for the cakes. In her experience beautiful women were easily distracted by the attention they received. Little mattered more than adulation. Relationships were ignored or lost or damaged, a casualty of the greatness that was the beautiful woman. Finley, on the other hand, could totally focus on what was important—like raising her niece and making sure no one threatened her safety. Not even her own mother.

*

“What is it?” Jericho Ford stared at the picture on the tablet screen. The swirling tubes of metal twisted together in some kind of shape, but he had no idea what it was.

“The artist describes this creation as the manifestation of his idea of happiness,” Antonio offered helpfully.

“It looks like a warthog.”

“It’s art.”

“So a fancy warthog.”

“It’s on sale.”

“I don’t care if it’s left on the side of the road with a sign reading ‘free.’ It’s ugly and no.” Jericho looked at his friend. “Why would you show that to me?”

“You said you needed some pieces for your family room.”

“I meant a sofa and maybe a bigger television.”

“You could put this on the coffee table.”

“That’s where I put my beer and popcorn.” Jericho pointed to the tablet. “If you like it so much, you get it.”

Antonio’s brows rose. “Absolutely not. My house is all about midcentury modern these days.”

“The warthog isn’t midcentury enough?”

“No.” Antonio slapped the tablet closed and put it in his backpack before removing two gray subway tiles and setting them on Jericho’s desk. “I want to make a change in the kitchen backsplash for number eleven.”

Antonio pointed to the tile on the right. “This was the original choice. I like the shine and the texture, but I’ve been thinking it’s too blue.” He tapped the tile on the right. “This has more green and goes better with the darker cabinets in the island.”

Jericho loved his job. He built houses in the Seattle area, good-quality houses with high-end finishes and smart designs. They sourced local when possible, had a great reputation and frequently a waiting list for their new-construction builds. Castwell Park—the five-plus acres he’d bought in Kirkland, Washington—had been subdivided into twenty oversized lots where Ford Construction was in the process of building luxury houses.

Jericho enjoyed the entire building process—from clearing the land to handing over the keys to the new owners. While he’d rather be doing something physical with his days, he was the site manager and owner, and all decisions flowed through him. Including tile changes suggested by his best friend and the project’s interior designer.

“Those tiles are the same color,” Jericho said flatly.

Antonio grimaced. “They’re not. This one—”

“Has more blue. Yes, you said.”

He grabbed the tiles and walked out of the large construction trailer set up across the street from the entrance to Castwell Park. He’d made a deal with the owners of the empty lot to rent the space while construction was underway. When his crew finished the twentieth home, he was going to build one for the lot’s owner. Jericho didn’t, as a rule, build one-offs, but it had been the price of getting a perfect location for the construction trailer, so he’d made an exception.

Once out in the natural light, he rocked the two tiles back and forth, looking for a color difference. Okay, sure, one was a little bluer, but he doubted five people in a hundred would notice. Still, Antonio’s design ideas were a big reason for the company’s success. He had a way of taking a hot trend and making it timeless.

“Email me the change authorization and I’ll okay it,” Jericho said, handing back the tiles.

“I knew you’d agree. These will make all the difference.”

“No more changes on house eleven or twelve,” he said, leading the way back inside the trailer. “The designs are locked in and we’ve placed all our orders.”

“I know. This is the last one.” Antonio smiled. “Besides, I’ve already checked with the distributor and she said it was no problem to substitute one for the other.” He settled in the chair by Jericho’s desk. “Dennis and I were talking about you last night.”

“That never means good things for me.”

Antonio dismissed the comment with a wave. “We’re inviting a woman to our next party.”

Jericho knew exactly what his friend meant but decided to pretend he didn’t. “You usually have women at your parties.”

“A woman for you.”

“No.”

Antonio leaned toward him. “It’s time. You and Lauren split up nearly seven months ago. I know you’re still pissed at your brother, but that’s separate from getting over your ex-wife. They cheated, they’re hideous people and we hate them, but it’s time for you to move on.”

Antonio had always had a gift for the quick recap, Jericho thought, appreciating his ability to distill the shock of finding out his wife and his younger brother were having an affair and the subsequent divorce into a single sentence.

“I’ve moved on,” Jericho told him.

“You’re not dating. Worse, you’re not picking up women in bars and sleeping with them.”

Jericho grinned. “When have I ever done that?”

“You’re a straight guy. Isn’t it a thing?”

“I hate it when you generalize about me because I’m straight.”

Antonio grinned. “Poor you.” His humor faded. “It’s time to stop pouting and move on with your life.”

“Hey, I don’t pout.”

“Fine, call it whatever you want. Lauren was a total bitch and I honestly don’t have words to describe what a shit Gil is for doing what he did. But you’re divorced, you claim to have moved on, so let’s see a little proof.” His mouth turned down. “I worry about you.”

“Thanks. I’m okay.”

Mostly. He hadn’t seen his brother in six months, which had made the holidays awkward. His family was small—just his mom, him and his brother, with Antonio as an adopted member. Gil’s affair with Lauren had rocked their family dynamics nearly as much as his father’s death eight years ago, shattering their small world. Their mother had taken Jericho’s side—at least at first. Lately she’d been making noises about a reconciliation. As Gil and Lauren were still a thing, he wasn’t ready to pull that particular trigger just yet.

“Dennis is a really good matchmaker,” Antonio murmured.

“Did I say no? I’m kind of sure I said no. I can get my own women.”

“Yes, but you won’t.”

“Now who’s pouting?”

The first five notes of “La Cucaracha” played outside, announcing the arrival of the food truck. Antonio’s face brightened.

“Lunchtime. You’re buying.”

“Somehow I’m always buying.”

“You’re the rich developer. I’m a struggling artist. It’s only fair.”

“You have a successful design business. And if that wasn’t enough, your husband is a partner at a fancy, high-priced law firm. You married money.”

Antonio laughed. “Wasn’t that smart of me?”

Jericho followed him out of the trailer. “You would have married him if he was broke and homeless. You love him.”

“I do and now we need to find someone for you to love. Not another redhead. That last one was a total disaster.”

“I’m not sure the failure of our marriage had anything to do with the color of her hair.”

“Maybe not, but why take the chance?”

Excerpted from The Sister Effect by Susan Mallery, Copyright © 2023 by Susan Mallery, Inc.. Published by Canary Street Press.


About the Author

Photo Credit: Annie Brady

SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship and romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live. Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She's passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the Ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom.


Social Links

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads

October 4, 2022

HTP Holiday Romance Blog Tour Promo Post: Home Sweet Christmas by Susan Mallery

at 10/04/2022 01:30:00 AM 0 comments


#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery's second book set in the small town of Wishing Tree, Washington is the witty and heartfelt story of two friends who expectedly find the person--and the place in which--they belong this Christmas, for fans of Elin Hildebrand, Robyn Carr, and Susan Wiggs.

This small-town life wasn’t supposed to be for Camryn Neff. But after her mother died, Camryn moved home to Wishing Tree, Washington to care for her teenaged twin sisters and run the family wrapping paper business, Wrap Around the Clock. She loves her sisters and would do anything for them but, when they head off to college, she’s excited to move back to Chicago and restart her real life, completely attachment-free. So, when a prospective client schedules a meeting and announces Project: Jake’s Bride, a plot to find a wife for her son, Camryn is completely disinterested. And when this client announces that Camryn is a candidate, she’s horrified. Being tied down is the last thing Camryn needs right now. She has no choice but to tell Jake what his mom is planning. But Camryn never expected to genuinely like him so much…

River Best knows all about the danger of keeping secrets. After all, she’s had her heart broken and her world rocked by secrets a few times now and she won’t ever let it happen again. New to Wishing Tree and a little shy, River is looking to get involved in the community, so she lets her friends talk her into running for Snow Queen, one of the town's honorary hosts of all Christmas events. She never expected to be drawn to Dylan Tucker, her Snow King. As the season progresses, River starts to trust him more and more and wonders if he's the one. But little does River know that Dylan is keeping a secret from her, one that threatens everything between them.


Buy Links:








one


“Your teeth are lovely, Camryn. Did you wear braces as a child?”

Camryn Neff reminded herself that not only was the woman sitting across from her a very wealthy potential client, but also that her mother had raised her to be polite to her elders. Still, it took serious effort to keep from falling out of her chair at the weirdness of the question.

“No. This is how they grew.”

Hmm, that didn’t sound right, although to be honest, she didn’t have a lot of experience when a conversation turned dental.

She refocused her mind to the meeting at hand. Not that she knew for sure why Helen Crane, leader of Wishing Tree society, such as it was, and sole owner of the very impressive Crane hotel empire, wanted to meet with her. The summons had come in the form of a handwritten note, inviting her to the large, sprawling estate on Grey Wolf Lake. Today at two.

So here Camryn was, wearing a business suit that had been hanging in her closet for over a year. The dress code for Wishing Tree retail and the dress code for the job in finance she’d left back in Chicago were very different. While it had been fun to dust off her gorgeous boots and a silk blouse, and discover her skirts still fit, she was ready to get to the point of the invitation.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Crane?” she asked.

“Helen, please.”

Camryn smiled. “Helen. I’m happy to host a wrapping party, either here or at the store. Or if you’d prefer, I can simply collect all your holiday gifts and wrap them for you.”

She casually glanced around at the high ceilings of the sitting room. There was a massive fireplace, intricate molding and a view of the lake that, even with two feet of snow on the ground, was spectacular. And while there were lovely fall floral displays on several surfaces, there wasn’t a hint of Christmas to be found. Not in Wishing Tree, eight days before Thanksgiving. Those decorations didn’t appear until the Friday after.

“I have some samples for custom wrapping paper,” she said, pulling out several sheets of paper from her leather briefcase. “The designs can be adjusted and the colors coordinated with what you have planned for this holiday season. Wrapped presents under a tree are such an elegant touch.”

“You’re very thorough,” Helen murmured. “Impressive.” She made a note on a pad. “Are you married, dear?”

“What?” Camryn clutched the wrapping paper samples. “No.”

Helen nodded. “Your mother passed away last year, didn’t she?”

A fist wrapped around Camryn’s heart. “Yes. In late October.”

“I remember her. She was a lovely woman. You and your sisters must have been devastated.”

That was one word for it, Camryn thought grimly, remembering how her life had been shattered by the loss. In the space of a few weeks, she’d gone from being a relatively carefree, engaged, happy junior executive in Chicago to the sole guardian for her twin sisters, all the while dealing with trying to keep Wrap Around the Clock, the family business, afloat. The first few months after her mother’s death were still a blur. She barely remembered anything about the holidays last year, save an unrelenting sadness.

“This year the season will be so much happier,” Helen said firmly. “Victoria and Lily are thriving at school. Of course they still miss their mother, but they’re happy, healthy young adults.” The older woman smiled. “I know the teen years can be trying but I confess I quite enjoyed them with Jake.”

Camryn frowned slightly. “How do you know about the twins?” she asked.

Helen’s smile never faded. “It’s Wishing Tree, my dear. Everyone knows more than everyone else thinks. Now, you’re probably wondering why I invited you over today.”

“To discuss wrapping paper?” Although even as Camryn voiced the question, she knew instinctively that was not the real reason.

Helen Crane was close to sixty, with perfect posture and short, dark hair. Her gaze was direct, her clothes stylish. She looked as if she’d never wanted for anything and was very used to getting her way.

“Of course you’ll take care of all my wrapping needs,” Helen said easily. “And I do like your idea of custom paper for faux presents under the tree. I’ll have my holiday decorator get in touch with you so you two can coordinate the design. But the real reason I asked you here is to talk about Jake.”

Camryn was having a little trouble keeping up. The order for wrapping and the custom paper was great news, but why would Helen want to discuss her son?

She knew who Jake was—everyone in town did. He was the handsome, successful heir to the Crane hotel fortune. He’d been the football captain in high school, had gone to Stanford. After learning the hotel business at the smaller Crane hotels, he was back in Wishing Tree, promoted to general manager of the largest, most luxurious of the properties.

They’d never run in the same circles back when they’d been kids, in part because she was a few years younger. She’d been a lowly freshman while he’d been a popular senior. Her only real connection with Jake was the fact that he’d once been engaged to her friend Reggie.

Helen sighed. “I’ve come to the conclusion that left to his own devices, Jake is never going to give me grandchildren. I lost my husband eighteen months ago, which has been very hard for me. It’s time for my son to get on with finding someone, getting married and having the grandchildren I deserve.”

Well, that put the whole “did you wear braces” conversational gambit in perspective, Camryn thought, not sure if she should laugh or just plain feel sorry for Jake. His mother was a powerful woman. Camryn sure wouldn’t want to cross her.

“I’m not sure what that has to do with me,” she admitted.

Helen tapped her pad of paper. “I’ve come up with a plan. I’m calling it Project: Jake’s Bride. I’m going to find my son a wife and you’re a potential candidate.”

Camryn heard all the words. Taken individually, she knew what Helen was saying. But when put together, in that exact way, the meaning completely escaped her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re pretty, you’re smart. You’ve done well at Wrap Around the Clock. You’re nurturing—look how you’ve cared for your baby sisters.” Helen smiled again. “I confess I do like the idea of instant grandchildren, so that’s a plus for you. There are other candidates, of course, but you’re definitely near the top of the list. All I need is confirmation from your gynecologist that you’re likely to be fertile and then we can get on with the business of you and Jake falling in love.”

“You want to know if I’m fertile?”

Camryn shoved the samples back in her briefcase and stood. “Mrs. Crane, I don’t know what century you think we’re living in, but this isn’t a conversation I’m going to have with you. My fertility is none of your business. Nor is my love life. If your plan is genuine, you need to rethink it. And while you’re doing that, you might want to make an appointment with your own doctor, because there’s absolutely something wrong with you.”

Helen looked surprisingly unconcerned. “You’re right, Camryn. I apologize. Mentioning fertility was going a bit too far. You’re the first candidate I’ve spoken to, so I’m still finding my way through all this.” She wrote on her pad. “I won’t bring that up again. But as to the rest of it, seriously, what are your thoughts?”

Camryn sank back on her chair. “Don’t do it. Meddling is one thing, but you’re talking about an actual campaign to find your son a bride. No. Just no. It’s likely to annoy him, and any woman who would participate in something like this isn’t anyone you want in your family.”

Helen nodded slowly. “An interesting point. It’s just they make it look so easy on those reality shows.”

“Nothing is real on those shows. The relationships don’t last. Jake’s going to find someone. Give him time.”

“I’ve given him two years. I’m not getting younger, you know.” Her expression turned wistful. “And I do want grandchildren.”

“Ask me on the right day and you can have the twins.”

Helen laughed. “I wish that were true.” Her humor faded. “Do you know my son?”

“Not really.”

“We could start with a coffee date.”

Camryn sighed. “Helen, seriously. This isn’t going to work. Let him get his own girl.”

“He’s not. That’s the problem. All right, I can see I’m not going to convince you to be a willing participant. I appreciate your time.” She rose. “I meant what I said about the wrapping. I’ll arrange to have all my gifts taken to your store. And my holiday decorator will be in touch about the custom paper.”

“Is the holiday decorator different from the regular decorator?” Camryn asked before she could stop herself.

Helen chuckled. “Yes, she is. My regular decorator is temperamental and shudders at the thought of all that cheer and tradition. He came over close to Christmas a few years ago and nearly fainted when he saw the tree in the family room.”

She leaned close and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s devoted to all the ornaments Jake made for me when he was little. There are plaster handprints and little stars made out of Popsicle sticks. My favorite is a tuna can with a tiny baby Jesus in the manger tucked inside. There’s bits of straw and a star.” She pressed both hands to her heart. “I tear up thinking about it.”

Baby Jesus in a tuna can? Helen was one strange woman.

Camryn collected her briefcase and followed Helen to the front door. Helen opened it, then looked at her.

“You’re sure about not being a part of Project: Jake’s Bride?”

“Yes. Very.” Camryn kept her tone firm, so there would be no misunderstanding.

“A pity, but I respect your honesty.”

Camryn walked to her SUV and put her briefcase in the backseat. Once she was behind the wheel, she glanced at the three-story house rising tall and proud against the snow and gray sky.

The rich really were different, she told herself as she circled the driveway and headed for the main road. Different in a cray-cray kind of way.

She turned left on North Ribbon Road. When she reached Cypress Highway, she started to turn right—the shortest way back to town. At the last minute, she went straight. Even as she drove north, she told herself it wasn’t her business. Maybe Jake knew about his mother’s plans. Maybe he supported them.

Okay, not that, she thought, passing the outlet mall, then turning on Red Cedar Highway and heading up the mountain. She might not know Jake very well, but Reggie had dated him for months. Reggie was a sweetie who would never go out with a jerk. So Jake had to be a regular kind of guy, and regular guys didn’t approve of their mothers finding them wives.

Besides, she doubted Jake needed any help in that department. He was tall, good-looking and really fit. She’d caught sight of him jogging past her store more than once and was willing to admit she’d stopped what she was doing to admire the view. He was also wealthy. Men like that didn’t need help getting dates.

The sign for the resort came into view. She slowed for a second, then groaned as she drove up to the valet. Maybe she was making a mistake, but there was no way she couldn’t tell Jake what had just happened. It felt too much like not mentioning toilet paper stuck to someone’s shoe.

If he already knew, then it would be a short conversation. If he didn’t care, then she would quietly think less of him and leave. If he was as horrified as she thought he might be, then she’d done her good deed for the week and yay her. Whatever the outcome, she would have done the right thing, which meant she would be able to sleep that night. Some days that was as good as it was going to get.



Excerpted from Home Sweet Christmas by Susan Mallery. Copyright © 2022 by Susan Mallery. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.


Author Bio:



SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship, romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to agree—40 million copies of her books have sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.

Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She's passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as mom. Visit Susan online at www.susanmallery.com.


Social Links

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads

June 3, 2022

Blog Tour Promo Post: The Boardwalk Bookshop by Susan Mallery

at 6/03/2022 03:22:00 PM 0 comments



With her unique brand of witty, emotional storytelling, Susan Mallery's latest is a heartfelt tale of friendship between three women brought together by chance who open a bookshop together on the boardwalk of the California beaches and ultimately become one another's family. Fans of Elin Hilderbrand, Robyn Carr and Susan Wiggs will love The Boardwalk Bookshop!


Brought together by chance, Bree, Mikki, and Ashley become fast friends and open up a beachfront bookshop together, bringing together their three different businesses. To celebrate, each Friday at sunset they pop open champagne on the beach and enjoy the sunset together. Little did they know that that chance meeting and this simple ritual would make them one another’s family.


Bree owns the bookshop. Funny that she can’t stand authors. They’re far too demanding. But when NYT bestselling author Harding Burton, the memoirist who wrote about being paralyzed as a teenager and how he fought his way back, comes in, Bree never expected to actually like him. But anything beyond casual sex is out of the question for her. She trusts no one—a brutal first marriage and a painful childhood taught her well. Still as much as she wants to walk away, she can’t quite do it…


Ashley, Harding’s brother, owns the muffin shop and she has her own problems. She’s been happily in love with her boyfriend, Seth, for eight years. He’s thoughtful, supportive, kind, generous…but he hasn’t proposed and, she can’t hold it in any longer. When he announces that marriage isn’t for him, she’s shocked. And as much as she wishes this was enough, the truth is that she wants to be married. But what now?


And Mikki, the gift shop owner, is getting a second chance. She married her high school sweetheart, but three kids and completely different interests made them drift apart until they divorced a few years ago. They’re still close for the kids, but when someone new enters her life, he makes her feel appreciated and alive. Suddenly Mikki’s ex is making her dinner and asking her advice and Mikki must choose between the man she loved and let go of—and a chance for a brand new beginning.



Buy Links




kobo  |  Nook  |  Target  |  Walmart


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship and romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.

Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She's passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the two Ragdoll cats and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom.


Social Links

Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Instagram

 

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