Blog Tour Promo Post: Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert

 

Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert is available in trade paperback, eBook and audiobook on September 28^th!

The sexy Navy chief and his best friend’s adorkable little brother…

It’s petty, but Naval Chief Derrick Fox wishes he could exact a little revenge on his ex by showing off a rebound fling. His submarine is due to return to its Bremerton, Washington, home base soon and Derrick knows all too well there won't be anyone waiting with a big, showy welcome.

 nter one ill-advised plan…

 Arthur Euler is the guy you go to in a pinch—he's excellent at out-of-the-box solutions. It's what the genius music-slash-computer nerd is known for. So when he finds out Derrick needs a favor, he’s happy to help. He can muster the sort of welcome a Naval Chief deserves, no problem at all.

Except it is a problem. A very big problem.

When Arthur’s homecoming welcome is a little too convincing, when a video of their gangplank smooch goes enormously viral, they're caught between a dock and a hard place. Neither of them ever expected a temporary fake relationship to look—or feel—so real. And Arthur certainly never considered he'd be fighting for a very much not-fake forever with a military man.

Buy Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert

Harlequin.com  |  Kindle  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Book Depository

Arthur turned out hot. That was my first thought when I spotted him after I heard my name called. Derrick. My actual name, not Fox, not Chief, and outside of Calder a couple of times, I hadn’t heard that name in months. And definitely not like that, all eager and excited and happy. On the sub, hearing my name inevitably meant that someone needed something right that minute, but the way Arthur said it didn’t inspire dread at all.

I’d already been caught up in the energy of the day. Homecoming day was always exciting, even if I didn’t usually have someone waiting. The whole crew was jostling about, getting into our dress whites, making sure everything from our cover to the chest candy of ribbons and medals to the gig line was perfectly straight. Getting chosen to be on deck as we came into port was an honor, one that I usually let others, especially those with kids, fight over, since there was still plenty to do belowdecks in preparation and support. As the chief sonar tech, I was responsible for working with the A-gangers from engineering and the operations department to help navigate us in. Adrenaline was contagious, and by the time my department was cleared to disembark, I had enough energy to rival the reactor that powered the sub.

And then I heard my name.

I recognized Arthur’s red hair right away. But the rest…

Wow. Arthur had grown hot. Still shorter than me and skinnier, but wiry now, each lean muscle defined under a thin white shirt and tight jeans. No signs of his ever-present too-big nerd-humor tees. Same startling green eyes as before, though, and a new, more chiseled jaw sporting the perfect amount of fuzz. He’d grown into his long regal nose, and the hair that had seemed to have a life of its own when he’d been a teen was sculpted now, this perfectly styled wave that made me want to mess it up. His hands, which had always seemed too big for the rest of him, were clutching a giant sign.

For me.

And for a second—a literal instant when our eyes met and time stopped—I forgot it wasn’t real. And in that moment, I wanted it to be. Someone smiling that broadly for me. Had Steve ever been so happy to see me? Hell, I wasn’t even sure the poodle my grandmother had let me keep had been that happy. Arthur just radiated pure joy. The kid was one hell of an actor.

“Welcome home.” Even his voice was different. Deeper. Sexier.

“Hey,” I said because I was simply that brilliant at conver­sation. I reached an arm out, instinctively going for a hand­shake, but Arthur shifted his sign and met me partway, coming in for a hug.

A really tight hug.

Damn, he felt good. Amazing really. Solid muscle against me, hair tickling my nose, exactly as silky as it looked, strong arms able to haul me in and hold me tight. He smelled like mint and green tea, two things in short supply on a boat that tended to smell like old socks on a good day. Sweet. I inhaled deeply as his lips brushed my ear.

“Calder said to kiss you,” he whispered. “And I want to. But you gotta tell me you’re good with that first.”

Was I good with that? Hot guy who smelled like a concoction I wanted to drink every day for a month wanted to kiss me. And ordinarily, the friendship code would put Arthur far, far off-limits, but here was Calder telling us to kiss. It was a free pass, the sort I’d be a fool to turn down.

I wasn’t a fool.

And what harm could a peck do?

“Yeah.” My voice was a rough whisper, and I didn’t have a chance to brace myself before Arthur was sliding his mouth over from my ear to mouth. A double shot of tequila would have had less punch than the first brush of contact.

And okay, not a peck.

We were kissing. Arthur and I, which should have been weird but somehow wasn’t. At all. Someone whooped behind us, but almost all of my attention was riveted on Arthur, like I was on watch and every sense was heightened lest I miss something vital.

Like how soft his lips were. Full too. Or the bristle of his scruff against my cheek. I’d done a submarine shave that morn­ing, not my best job, but close enough that the rasp of beard felt electric. Our chests were pressed so tightly that I could feel his heart pounding. Or maybe that was mine, blood zooming to places that had been in deep freeze for months.

“Wow.” Arthur pulled back, leaving me dazed and still clinging to him.

“Damn.” The statuesque purple-haired woman he’d been standing with laughed loudly and thumped Arthur’s shoul­der. “Is that the best you can do? Your man has been at sea how many months?”

Your man. If only. If he were actually mine, we’d be racing across base, a mad dash to find a room with a door. But he wasn’t and all we’d ever have was this moment. A potent mix of want and resolve raced through me as suddenly I was determined to make this count.

I pulled him back to me, and this time when our mouths collided, I was ready. Ready to taste. Ready to absorb every single detail. Ready to seize control and kiss like the world might be ending.

And it could have. Not sure I would have noticed. Everything faded away. The crowd. The docks. The balloons Arthur had been clutching and his sign both as his strong hands clung to my shoulders as we kissed in earnest. He tasted like he smelled, sweet and minty, and his tongue against mine was like floodlights coming on.

“Welcome home,” Arthur breathed against my mouth as the sound of applause gradually pulled me back into awareness of our surroundings. Applause. Whoops of laughter. Clicking cameras. But still I couldn’t seem to look away from him.

 

 Carina Adores is home to highly romantic contemporary love stories featuring beloved romance tropes, where LGBTQ+ characters find their happily-ever-afters.

 

Discover a new Carina Adores book every month!

·         Meet Me in Madrid by Verity Lowell (coming October 26)

·         The Life Revamp by Kris Ripper (coming November 30)

·         If You Love Something by Jayce Ellis (coming December 28)

·         D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding by Chencia C. Higgins (coming January 25)

·         Sink or Swim by Annabeth Albert (coming February 22)

About Annabeth Albert

Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open—no flashlights required! When she’s not adding to her keeper shelf, she’s a Pacific Northwest romance writer of many critically acclaimed and fan-favorite LGBTQ romance series.  To find out more, check out: www.annabethalbert.com. The fan group, Annabeth’s Angels, on Facebook is also a great place for bonus content.

 Connect with Annabeth Albert

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads

HTP Fall Blog Tour (Women's Fiction Edition) Promo Post: An Impossible Promise by Jude Deveraux and Tara Sheets

Outlander meets The Lake House (movie) in this epic love story that crosses continents and centuries. Master storyteller Jude Deveraux joins forces with up-and-coming author Tara Sheets to create a series that will appeal to women's fiction and romance readers alike. A rogue thief in 1840s Ireland is sent by angels to a contemporary small town in America to make amends for his crimes in the past. Forbidden to tell anyone why he is there he must convince the woman he loves to marry another man or be damned for eternity.

In one century she loved him madly, and in another, she wants nothing to do with him

In this second book of a trilogy, the story of Liam O’Connor and Cora McLeod continues. While they were lovers in the past, things are very different in the present. Liam and Cora are both police officers and roomates in Providence Falls, North Carolina. Liam is trying to do as the angels have commanded--make sure Cora falls in love with another man—but Cora is not the impressionable innocent girl Liam remembers. She's strong and smart and not easily manipulated. Liam is forced to face the truth about himself as he comes to realize that he truly isn't the right man for Cora. But, as Liam is coming to that conclusion, Cora is starting to see him in a new light.

Liam wants Cora for himself, but with his soul hanging in the balance, he must choose between a stolen moment in time or an eternity of damnation.

An Impossible Promise is a romantic, fun, and pure escape.

BUY LINKS:

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PROLOGUE

 

THE CELESTIAL CHAMBER OF JUDGMENT WAS not cozy by any stretch of the imagination. Most of the time it appeared to be nothing more than white roiling walls of mist, which the angel Agon found downright dreary. But his associate Samael deemed it necessary, believing that human souls facing judgment were better off with no distractions. This was probably why Samael’s face was now scrunched in open disapproval—an expression Agon had grown used to over the centuries.

“What,” Samael demanded, pointing an elegant finger at the object against the chamber wall, “is that?” With his blond ringlets and cherub cheeks, he looked like a Renaissance paint­ing of a frazzled choir boy.

It made Agon want to smile, but he refrained. For an angel as old as himself, he’d learned a thing or two. Instead, he drew up to his full height, impressive even by angelic standards, and stretched his snowy wings wide. “It’s called a recliner,” he said cheerfully. “For sitting and resting. Very comforting to humans, from what I gather.”

Samael looked incredulous. “I’ve told you before, this is no place of solace. Human souls are summoned here to face judgment, and not all of them are headed to a comfortable destination.”

“True.” Agon sat on the edge of the overstuffed chair, swiv­eling left, then right. “But I see no harm in offering them a place to rest while we review their lives. If nothing else, it will provide an alternative to their usual pacing and wringing of hands and stumbling about in distress. It is pitiable when they do that, you must admit.”

Samael sighed, shook his head and turned toward the wall of mist. A good sign, Agon decided. For now, it seemed the new chair could stay. Perhaps later he could bring in a few other earthly things to liven up the place, but what was that human expression? Ah, yes. Baby steps.

“We haven’t time for your antics,” Samael muttered, wav­ing a hand at the wall of mist. “Our wayward rogue is about to learn a valuable lesson.”

The mist cleared, revealing a city street at night. A swarthy stranger in a black leather jacket and designer jeans pulled his motorcycle to a stop outside a sports bar.

Agon rose from the chair and went to stand beside Samael as they watched the scene unfold. “You’re sure this man is just like Liam O’Connor?”

“He has all the same traits as the rogue,” Samael said. “The arrogance, the selfish motives, the questionable morals. He wasn’t originally scheduled to cross paths with Liam, but it was easy enough to arrange.”

Agon tilted his dark head, studying the man who was now sauntering toward the entrance of the bar. A neon sign that read ROOKIES blinked above the door. “And you’re certain introducing this man to Liam will serve a useful purpose?”

Samael crossed his arms. “It will be good for Liam to see his own personality traits reflected in someone else. Perhaps then, through serious introspection, the rogue will realize his many faults and be at peace with the task we’ve given him.”

“Perhaps,” Agon said, though he wasn’t so sure. Liam O’Connor and peace did not seem to mix. The man was hell-bent on winning Cora McLeod for himself, no matter how much he assured the angels he was trying to help Cora achieve her true destiny by marrying Finley Walsh. Agon knew what desperation looked like in a man’s eyes, and paired with de­termination, it could be a dangerous combination. Liam had both in abundance. “I hope it works. He only has two months left to achieve his task.”

Samael let out a huff. “It has to work. We can’t interfere with his free will, and this is the last thing I could think of to help steer him in the right direction. We’ve already agreed to some of the ‘boosts’ he’s asked for. Rudimentary computer knowledge. Fair warning when we plan to visit. We’ve even made it so he’d no longer feel pain whenever he and Cora touch.” He gave Agon a stern look. “That last one was only because you advocated so strongly on his behalf.”

“I think we can trust him to make the right decisions,” Agon said. “I know he seems like a lost cause, but let us have faith that he will prevail.”

“Mmm, faith,” Samael said as they watched the tall man disappear into the bar. “In a rogue. What could possibly go wrong?”

 

Excerpted from An Impossible Promise by Jude Deveraux and Tara Sheets. Copyright © 2021 by Deveraux Inc. Published by MIRA Books.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

 

Photo Credit: Tracy Fleming

Jude Deveraux is the author of forty-three New York Times bestsellers, including For All Time, Moonlight in the Morning and A Knight in Shining Armor. She was honored with a Romantic Times Pioneer Award in 2013 for her distinguished career. To date, there are more than sixty million copies of her books in print worldwide. Jude lives in Kansas City, Missouri

 

Tara Sheets is an award-winning author of contemporary romance and women's fiction. Her work has earned first place recognition in literary contests nationwide, and her debut novel, DON'T CALL ME CUPCAKE, won the 2016 Golden Heart® award sponsored by Romance Writers of America. Tara lives in Charlotte, North Carolina.

 

SOCIAL LINKS:

JUDE DEVERAUX:

Website   |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads

TARA SHEETS:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads

INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: Missing at Christmas by K.D. Richards

To bring her sister home for the holidays...

They’ll put everything on the line.

Private investigator Shawn West is stunned when the attack victim he rescues is Addy Williams—the one woman he never forgot. She’s turning a quiet upstate New York town inside out to bring her missing sister home by Christmas. Shawn offers to help if she'll provide a cover for his own investigation into a suspicious company in town, but can they work together to find Addy's sister…or are they already too late?

Buy Missing at Christmas by K.D. Richards

 Harlequin.com  |  Kindle  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Book Depository

 

The doors to the kitchen swung outward, and the man reappeared, a white plastic bag in one hand and Cassie’s picture in the other.

Addy slid her phone back into her purse and rose. The pity she saw in the man’s face as he drew nearer dashed the hope that had swelled in her chest.

“I showed your sister’s picture to everyone who’s still here, and no one recognized her. I’m sorry.”

Two solid days of showing Cassie’s picture every­where she could think of in Bentham and nothing. No one remembered seeing her.

“Thanks, anyway.” She didn’t bother trying to muster a smile of thanks. She reached in her purse for her wallet.

“No charge,” he said, thrusting her food and Cassie’s picture at her. “You take care of yourself.”

Addy looked up into the man’s now compassion-filled eyes and wiped away the single tear she couldn’t stop from falling. “Thank you,” she croaked out before turning and fleeing the restaurant before the dam of tears broke.

Silver garlands hung from the streetlamps along with fluttering signs ordering the denizens of Ben­tham to have a happy holiday. The lamps themselves were spaced too far apart for the weak yellow light they cast off to beat back the dark December night.

Five blocks west, cars coasted along one of Ben­tham’s main thoroughfares, but the street in front of Addy was clear and quiet, the surrounding busi­nesses having long since closed for the night.

She’d left the metallic-blue Mustang she’d rented for the two-hour drive from Manhattan to Bentham in the hotel’s parking lot. It was easier to canvass the neighborhood on foot. All she had to show for her effort were sore feet.

A footstep sounded as she pocketed her phone. Shooting a glance over her shoulder, she squinted into the darkness but saw no one.

You’re just not used to so much quiet, she thought, walking on.

She’d lived in New York City since she was twelve but spent summers on her grandfather’s ranch in Texas. She’d loved the ranch almost as much as she loved the city, but New York wasn’t called the city that never slept for nothing. There was always some­thing to do and see, and she was used to being sur­rounded by thousands of people, even though she’d been very much alone since Cassie moved to Ben­tham.

A scraping sound came from close behind her, followed by the unmistakable sound of fast-moving footsteps.

She turned, intending to move to the side, when a hand clamped around her ponytail, jerking her back­ward against a hard chest.

It took a moment for her brain to catch up with what was happening, and by the time it did, her assailant had taken his beefy hand from her hair and clamped it over her mouth.

Addy fought her rising panic. Like any savvy city girl, she’d taken self-defense classes, but it had been a while since she’d brushed up. She’d never thought she’d actually have to use any of those techniques.

She tried to pull away, but the man’s arm was like a vise around her neck.

“Don’t fight, and I won’t hurt you,” the man growled.

She didn’t believe that for a minute. She’d left the small gun she carried for protection locked in her car’s glove compartment, a decision she regret­ted now. Who’d have thought the streets of Bentham were more dangerous than Manhattan?

Well, she had no intention of going down without a fight, gun or no gun. She sent up a quick prayer and fisted her hands at the same time a yell came from somewhere in the night.

About the Author

K.D. Richards is a native of the Washington, DC area who now lives outside of Toronto with her husband and two sons. You can find her at kdrichardsbooks.com.

 Connect with the Author

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HTP Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: This is Why We Lie by Gabriella Lepore

Riverdale meets One of Us Is Lying in This Is Why We Lie by Gabriella Lepore, a standalone thriller following two teens who discover a body off the coast of their seaside town. As they search for the killer, they will learn the students of both the local prep school and the nearby reform school will do anything to protect their secrets.

Everyone in Gardiners Bay has a secret.

When Jenna Dallas and Adam Cole find Colleen O’Dell’s body floating off the shore of their coastal town, the community of Gardiners Bay is shaken. But even more shocking is the fact that her drowning was no accident.

Once Jenna’s best friend becomes a key suspect, Jenna starts to look for answers on her own. As she uncovers scandals inside Preston Prep School leading back to Rookwood reform school, she knows she needs Adam on her side.

As a student at Rookwood, Adam is used to getting judgmental looks, but now his friends are being investigated by the police. Adam will do whatever he can to keep them safe, even if that means trusting Jenna.

As lies unravel, the truth starts to blur. Only one thing is certain: somebody must take the fall.

 

BUY LINKS:

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JENNA

Gardiners Bay at dawn is my secret. There’s a moment, right before the day starts, when the ocean is bathed in amber light. That first golden breath of morning. Everything is still, apart from the pelicans gathering near the water, their plump bodies shuffling along the shoreline. Sometimes I sit on the promenade for hours with my legs suspended over the pebble beach below, just watching the night turn today. Watching the darkness turn to light.

                It’s often like this, just me and the birds. The only other people I tend to cross paths with at this hour are fishermen wearing heavy-duty gear and hugging their thermoses. They sit on the benches and swig their hot drinks while skimming the daily newspaper. Then they leave. A little while later, their boats drift out onto the water.

                Today, though, I’m the only one here.

                I raise my camera and adjust the focus, capturing the new light as it spills over the ocean. In the muted daylight, the silver tide is a murky, dull gray and frothing as it slaps against the shore.

                “Help! I need help!”

                My eyes dart across the shoreline. There’s a boy on the stretch of beach at the foot of Rookwood Cliff. He’s knee-deep in the water, fully dressed.

                He shouts again.

                I spring to my feet and run along the promenade. Ducking beneath the boardwalk railings, I jump down to the pebbled cove.

                The soles of my feet sting at the impact of the stones beneath my Converse. I scramble toward him, my footing slipping on the damp pebbles.

                It’s then that I recognize him.

                Adam.

                His jeans are soaked to the thigh. He’s wading through the shallows, his legs tangled in fishing net and seaweed. And a body lies limp in his arms. A girl. She’s swollen, her skin has turned purple, and one arm is swinging downward with the momentum of Adam’s labored movements.

                I press my hand to my mouth.

                “Call an ambulance,” he shouts.

                But all I can do is stand there, paralyzed by the sight. He lowers the girl onto the sand and begins CPR, breathing into her mouth.

                It’s too late, I want to tell him.

                She’s already dead.

Excerpted from This is Why We Lie by Gabriella Lepore, Copyright © 2021 by Gabriella Lepore. Published by Inkyard Press.

  

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Gabriella Lepore is a YA author from South Wales in the United Kingdom. She lives in the countryside with her husband James and daughter Sophia. When she isn’t reading or writing, she can usually be found exploring the coastline. She enjoys cups of tea, bookstore coffee shops, stormy beaches, and autumn days.  

SOCIAL LINKS:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

GLAMOROUS Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: A Very Intimate Takeover by LaQuette

Falling for the enemy never felt this good in the debut novel of LaQuette's Devereaux Inc. series.

She’s ruthless in business,

but vulnerable in his arms.

Trey Devereaux is out to prove her corporate mettle to her skeptical father. When she sees a chance to take control of Devereaux Inc. from her estranged grandfather, she pounces. But Jeremiah Benton, his second-in-command, is fiercely protective of the Devereaux patriarch…and absolutely enticing. The intensity of their attraction overwhelms her defenses, and Trey even finds herself warming to her grandfather under Jeremiah’s influence. Can Trey maintain her resolve—or is Jeremiah winning this high-stakes merger? The fate of a billion-dollar Brooklyn legacy lies in the balance…

Buy A Very Intimate Takeover by LaQuette

 Harlequin.com  |  Kindle  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Book Depository

The en­velope was smooth yet had enough texture that she took her time sliding her finger across it. The deep sandal­wood beige, trimmed in a dark mahogany and gold foil, had enough flare to let you know the sender cared about making a good impression, but not so much that it was gaudy.

She opened the envelope and pulled out the folded paper carefully. She was curious to see what this J. Benton had to say.

Dear Mr. Jordan Dylan Devereaux,

I’m Jeremiah Benton, the COO at Devereaux Incorporated.

Please forgive my forwardness in sending you a physical letter. However, I needed to confirm delivery of this message while ensuring our com­munication remained private. What I have to say is too important to risk getting lost in your spam folder or intercepted by prying eyes. The elder Mr. Devereaux has forbidden me to share this with you, but I felt that as his son, you needed to know. I regret to inform you that Ace has fallen ill. Ill enough that his physicians have determined he may have less than six months of life remain­ing. I know I am a stranger, and this is a personal topic, but your father and his business need you now as his next of kin. If left to his sister, Mar­tha Devereaux-Smith, Devereaux Incorporated will suffer. You are the only person who can stop her. Please don’t delay. For your father, and his legacy, I beg you to return to Devereaux Manor immediately.

 

Sincerely,

 

J. Benton

Trey rose in one quick movement, heading for her father’s office. When she arrived, she immediately paused. The grandfather she’d seen nowhere but on television and in business magazines was dying. She tried to process what this new knowledge made her feel, and all she could identify was numbness. But her father, having spent the first twenty-two years of his life at his father’s side, might feel something more than the nothingness that spread through her veins.

The door was slightly ajar. She was about to knock when she heard her parents’ voices.

“Destiny, she’s too quick to act. I’ve told her she couldn’t rely solely on her usual tactics, and she ignored everything I said and did it her way instead. Now, she can’t make this right.” Her father’s words cut deep, like a heated blade. He was still angry with her, his focus so fused to her failure, he couldn’t see her ability to get this job done.

“Deuce, practically from the moment we found out I was carrying Trey, you have demanded greatness from her. You used to place your head on my belly every night when she would kick me so hard I couldn’t sleep and say the same thing over and over until she calmed down. ‘Trey, you are Deuce Devereaux’s daughter, and there isn’t a man or woman that can stand against you.’ You believed that then, and in all this time she’s never given you reason to doubt her.”

“This is different, Des. This was her test, to prove to me she could handle everything I’m leaving to her. Now, after this disaster, I can’t retire. I can’t leave DD Enterprises until I know she’s ready. I’m so tired, baby.” The hitch in his voice yanked at Trey’s heart. His lack of faith in her might have raised her blood pressure, but hearing him this way, so fragile, so hopeless, felt like something crushing her from the inside out. “I’ve been fighting this fight with Ace for over thirty years. It’s taken so much away from my life with you. I’d thought I could retire early and leave it all to her, but now…”

“Don’t doubt her, Deuce. She will find a way.”

About the Author

An activist for DEIA in the romance industry, LaQuette writes bold stories featuring multicultural characters. Her writing style brings intellect to the drama. She crafts emotionally epic tales that are deeply pigmented by reality's paintbrush.

This Brooklyn native's novels are a unique mix of savvy, sarcastic, brazen, & unapologetically sexy characters who are confident in their right to appear on the page. Find her at LaQuette.com & at LaQuette@LaQuette.com.

Connect with the Author

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DREAMER Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: The Lights on Knockbridge Lane by Roan Parrish

Can one man’s crowded, messy life fill another man’s empty heart?

Raising a family was always Adam Mills’ dream, although solo parenting and moving back to tiny Garnet Run certainly were not. After a messy breakup, Adam is doing his best to give his young daughter the life she deserves—including accepting help from their new, reclusive neighbor to fulfill her Christmas wish.

Though the little house may not have “the most lights ever,” the Mills home begins to brighten as handsome Wes Mobray spends more time there and slowly sheds his protective layers. But when the eye-catching house ends up in the news, Wes has to make a choice: hide from the darkness of his unusual past or embrace the light of a future—and a family—with Adam.

Buy The Lights on Knockbridge Lane by Roan Parrish

Harlequin.com  |  Kindle  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Book Depository

Everyone on Knockbridge Lane had a different theory about Westley Mobray. It was the first thing Adam Mills heard about as he introduced himself around last week, when he and August moved in.

The eight-year-old McKinnon twins next door said he was a vampire. Their parents, Darren and Rose McKinnon, scoffed at that, but said he could be a witch. Marisol Gutierrez three doors down insisted she’d seen him skulking around the neighborhood at night, hunting for animals to sacrifice to the devil. A teenager at the end of the street reported that anyone who looked him in the eyes would be hypnotized, and anyone who touched him would turn to stone. Mr. Montgomery on the corner just said freak.

Westley Mobray was never seen before sunset, though mysterious packages arrived on his doorstep often. He never spoke to anyone and never waved hello. And late at night, the windows of his run-down house glowed an eerie green.

At least, that’s what they told Adam.

So when he saw the man in question through the twilit haze of his own front window—with his daugh­ter in tow—he was understandably startled. Espe­cially since he’d thought she was playing quietly in her room.

He’d slammed two coffees to prevent it, but he’d been asleep. The kind of light, unsatisfying sleep he often fell into when he had a moment of quiet. Which was something that didn’t happen that often as the newly single parent of an eight-year-old.

His insomnia had been pretty bad since the di­vorce, and worse since they moved back to Garnet Run, where he was the only one responsible for Gus.

The knock at the door jerked him out of that strange sleep, and he scrambled for the door, stub­bing his toe in the process, so that when he yanked it open he was biting back the kind of words that he tried with varying degrees of success not to say in front of Gus.

He focused on Gus first. She was all in one piece and was even smiling. It was her I did something bad and delightful smile, but a smile was good—at least when on a child who seemed to have been forcibly dragged home by an irate stranger.

“Where is your coat?” is what came out of Adam’s mouth.

Sometimes he tried to remember what it was like when he talked about things like the composition of his next shot, which restaurant’s tiramisu he pre­ferred, or the latest cozy mystery he was reading.

Now he said things like “Where is your coat” and “Don’t take that apart” and “If you don’t stop mak­ing that sound I might have to throttle you.” Okay, he didn’t say the last one so much as think it. Often.

“It’s not that cold,” his wonderful, brilliant daugh­ter said, her lips only vaguely blue.

Adam counseled himself to breathe.

Once he’d determined that Gus was all in one piece and frostbite wasn’t imminent, he turned his atten­tion to the man who’d brought her home.

“Um,” he said intelligently.

Westley Mobray was tall and severe, with shaved dark hair and strong dark eyebrows over piercing blue eyes. Those eyes were narrowed slightly, ei­ther in anger or—if the neighborhood rumors were to be believed—because he never went outside when there was the slightest bit of light still in the sky, as it would, of course, burn him to ash.

“She broke into my house,” he said. His voice was low and rough with disuse.

“She’s eight.”

About the Author

​Roan Parrish lives in Philadelphia, where she’s gradually attempting to write love stories in every genre. When not writing, she can be found cutting her friends’ hair, meandering through the city while listening to torch songs and melodic death metal, or cooking overly elaborate meals. She loves bonfires, winter beaches, minor chord harmonies, and self-tattooing. One time she may or may not have baked a six-layer chocolate cake and then thrown it out the window in a fit of pique.

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DREAMER Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: Second Chance to Wear His Ring by Hana Sheik

A forgotten past…

Could pave the way to forever!

When millionaire Mansur Ali is called urgently home to Somaliland, he’s shocked to find that the woman who broke his heart needs his help. After an accident, Amal has lost many memories…including Manny’s marriage proposal and her rejection! Manny will help her seek treatment in Addis Ababa, but he’s resolved to keep his heart firmly off-limits. A promise that is tested when their journey brings them closer than ever before…a whole lot more?

 

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Facing the door, his mother had noticed his entry and now called to him, her eyes as large and disbelieving as the young maid’s. The sound of the truck’s running motor grumbled in with the cool breeze. The door to the veranda was open, as were all the windows in the tastefully furnished living area.

She shouldn’t look surprised. She had known he was coming. Manny had left a message for her before he’d boarded his private jet. He’d figured she must have heard it as she’d sent the driver to fetch him.

Then again, she was likely shocked that he had shown up. She hadn’t expected him to heed her summons. And what did that say about him?

That you’re a failure of a son, maybe?

He scowled at the thought and fixed his atten­tion on the scene before him.

His mother stood with the help of a woman who had her back to Manny. He assumed it was another maid. That was the wrong assumption.

“Amal…” Manny breathed her name. It felt too long since he’d allowed himself to think about her. A whole year, to be exact.

If he’d known they would cross paths so quickly he would’ve arranged for his mother to meet him elsewhere. Perhaps in his old bedroom. She’d likely furnished it for him, in the hope that he would opt to stay with her rather than check himself into a hotel.

But it was difficult to think about his accom­modation when his mother was approaching him with Amal.

He flinched as they neared, his instinct roar­ing at him to flee. His heart, a battering ram, drummed so loud he feared that Amal would hear it. That she would know how easily she con­tinued to affect him.

Curiosity kept him rooted. But he was seconds from storming out of the house to spend his first day here in a hotel.

Only the flash of emotional pain in his moth­er’s wet eyes cooled his indignation. Halima Ahmed Adan didn’t shed tears lightly. Only two instances came to his mind before this: when his father had died last year and when Mansur had announced his plan to leave for America on a college scholarship at the impressionable age of seventeen.

But she was crying now, her shawl forgotten where she’d left it on the ornately patterned floor cushions.

“Hooyo,” she said, and the Somali term of endearment wrapped itself around his heart. It meant mother, and by choice he hadn’t had one this past year, for reasons he was still ashamed to contemplate.

Moved by her tears, Manny stepped into her open arms and sank into her embrace.

She pressed her mouth to his ear. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Manny murmured.

Over his mother’s shoulder, he met Amal’s eyes. Her face free of makeup, her tawny, red­dish-brown skin glowed as if freshly scrubbed. She wore a neutral expression. Her midnight-blue silk veil was styled to match her dress. Snug around her chest and curvy hips, its flowing de­sign was meant to discourage the kind of heated thoughts slipping into Manny’s head unbidden.

Squeezing his mother tighter, Manny eased his hold when she gasped and gave a small laugh. He’d almost forgotten he was hugging her.

“Forgive me,” Manny mumbled, releasing his mother.

When his hands dropped to his sides again he flexed his fingers, the lingering feel of her warm­ing his gut and falling over him like a comfort blanket. It was easier to hold on to the grudg­ing anger.

Noting where his attention was directed, his mother grasped Amal’s hand and pulled her closer. “Have you forgotten Amal?” she asked.

Like he could forget Amal Khalid.

About the Author

Hana Sheik falls in love every day reading her favourite romances and writing her own happy-ever-afters. She's worked as a data entry operator, customer service rep, telemarketer, and ghostwriter—but being a romance author is without a doubt the best job ever! Born in Somalia, she moved to the beautiful capital of Canada as a toddler, and still lives there happily with her family.

​

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GLAMOROUS Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: Manhattan’s Most Scandalous Reunion by Dani Collins

He can’t turn her away, and it has nothing to do with the media storm outside his penthouse! Enjoy this sizzling romance from USA TODAY bestselling author Dani Collins.

She left him.

That doesn't mean she's forgotten him.

When paparazzi mistake Nina Menendez for a supermodel, she takes refuge in her ex’s New York penthouse. Big mistake. Guarded Reve Weston is incapable of emotional intimacy—and is intensely seductive…

Reve has had enough of scandal. To keep his name out of the tabloids, he insists Nina stay with him. But as their spark reignites and she shares the mysteries of her past, Reve realizes his cynicism has a downside. If he can’t give Nina the fairy tale she dreams of, he’ll have to let her go…for good!

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Dear God, they were everywhere. She was sur­rounded. Her airway tightened and her wild gaze swerved every direction, seeking a path of escape.

A blue-and-silver awning struck her eyes. She had walked in this direction unconsciously on purpose because, deep down, she was a masochist.

Normally, she would have stayed on this side of the street and glared upward as she walked by, but in her agitation, she darted straight for the entrance, not computing that she was running into traffic.

A car squealed its brakes and stopped on a dime right before it would have struck her. The driver laid on the horn, then honked again as the horde of cam­eramen chased her, all of them batting and bumping into the car in their haste to get around it.

Nina brushed past the startled doorman and ran inside, straight to the security desk where Amir sat today.

“I’m sorry. Please, can I stand here a few minutes while I figure out what to do? They won’t leave me alone.”

She was quivering with reaction, breathless and barely able to speak. She looked back to see the door­man holding out his arms while he ordered the men, “Back off! No entry.”

Amir frowned at her, then at the disruption out­side. One of the men evaded the doorman and pressed his camera lens to the window, clicking and flashing through the glass.

Amir picked up his phone and dialed.

Was he calling the police? Nina’s scrambled brain tried to decide whether she should involve them.

“It’s Amir, sir. Ms. Menendez is here in the lobby.”

“What?” she whispered. “I didn’t come here to see him.”

Her stomach began to churn. She held her breath in dread-filled anticipation.

“Yes, I understand, sir. But she seems upset.”

Her heart stalled out. How humiliating. After se­ducing her and leading her on, Reve had dumped her when she had asked if he wanted to meet her father. Three months later, he didn’t even want to see her.

She covered her face, turning her back to the win­dows so she had a shred of privacy while she tried to think of where she could go or who she might call. The few friends she’d made in New York had fallen away when she’d been fired and moved in with Reve. And the friend who’d gotten her today’s interview lived in London. The one who was loaning her his studio was backpacking in Australia.

She didn’t know what to do. She was upset by more than the fact those men had chased her. It was every­thing that had happened lately. Her ears were rushing with the sound of her galloping pulse. Her life was falling apart at the seams, but she couldn’t crawl home this time. Where was home? Who was she?

“Miss…” Amir’s voice was loud enough to make her jerk her head up. His frown told her he’d had to repeat himself to get her attention. She saw he had opened the doors for Reve’s private elevator.

“Mr. Weston will see you. Would you like me to come with you? You seem unsteady.”

She stared into the elevator, longing to see Reve even though she knew he only pretended to rescue damsels. Deep down, he was more of a dragon who lured them in and ate them.

Still, she could hear the doorman arguing with the men outside. She had to leave the lobby so they would disperse. She desperately needed to be trans­ported out of her entire overturned, mixed-up life, and, God knows, Reve’s world was the furthest thing from her own.

 

About the Author

When Canadian Dani Collins found romance novels in high school she wondered how one trained for such an awesome job. She wrote for over two decades without publishing but remained inspired by the romance message that if you hang in there you'll find a happy ending. In May of 2012, Harlequin Presents bought her manuscript in a two-book deal. She's since published more than thirty books with them and is definitely living happily ever after.

 

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