Spotlight: Take Me Home for Christmas by Tracy Solheim

(Chances Inlet Contemporary Romance, #5)

Publication date: December 12th 2024

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

Synopsis:

In the quaint coastal town of Chances Inlet, Christmas is a time for rekindling lost connections . . .

Elinor “Elle” McAlister is on the brink of a big-time promotion that will finally put her on equal footing with her overachieving siblings. The catch? She has to babysit a notoriously prickly war reporter who’s late delivering his memoir. As if that weren’t enough, her editor banishes them both to Elle’s hometown on the Carolina coast to get the job done. Spending the holidays in Chances Inlet might have been fine—if only she hadn’t wrecked the most important relationship in her life during her visit last Christmas.

Deputy Sheriff Hayden Lovell has known Elle was his person ever since she swiped his purple crayon back in kindergarten. Through every twist and setback, her steady friendship has been his anchor, especially after he returned from combat with wounds that run deep. But everything changed last New Year’s Eve when Elle surprised him with a kiss, stirring feelings he didn’t realize he had. Now that she’s back in town and keeping her distance, Hayden wonders if that moment meant as much to her as it did to him.

Chances Inlet has a knack for bringing people together. With Christmas around the corner, can Elle and Hayden rewrite their story before the holiday spirit fades? Join them in a heartwarming tale of love, friendship, and the magic of second chances in a town that knows how to celebrate Christmas like no other.

Excerpt

“Do you know who Everett West is?” Madelaine asked.

Everyone with access to a television knew who Everett West was. He’d been a globe-trotting war reporter for the past thirty-five years.

“He’s writing his memoir,” Elle responded. “We are serializing it in the magazine. The number of readers downloading the chapters has quadrupled over the past three months.”

Helen beamed at her. “Impressive. You know your stats about other aspects of the magazine besides your own.”

“The serialization is meant to whet the appetite of readers in hopes of getting them to order the book when we release it in July,” Madelaine explained.

“The problem we have,” Helen added, “is that Everett hasn’t quite finished the manuscript despite signing a contract stipulating he would complete it by the first of this month.”

“Oh.” Elle looked between the two women, still unsure what this had to do with her.

Helen shook her head. “Mm. Men aren’t always good at keeping their promises as I’m sure you are aware, Elinor.”

Whoa!

Was Helen apologizing for her worm of a grandson?

Madelaine leaned forward in her chair. “We need Everett to finish this book by the end of the year, or the magazine will run out of material to serialize.”

“And we won’t have any way to fulfill those preorders,” Elle added.

“Exactly!” Helen slapped her palm on the table.

Elle continued to gaze at the two women, trying to divine some sort of explanation as to why they were telling her this. “That’s a serious problem for the entire company.”

“Everett doesn’t seem to be able to focus on the manuscript here in New York.” Madelaine sighed. “Too many distractions.”

“Too many cronies to go out drinking with, you mean,” Helen muttered.

If Madelaine agreed with her boss’ sentiments, she was too professional to show it. “We need him to go someplace quiet, someplace with a lot slower pace and fewer diversions so he can buckle down and get the job done.”

The man had reported from deep below the ocean inside a Polaris submarine, while rumbling along in a tank in Iraq, and even while embedded in the Afghan desert with special forces. Surely, he didn’t need a convent to finish his memoir? He already knew the ending, after all.

“Do you need me to research some potential places?” Elle asked.

“No, no, dear girl.” Helen waved a hand. “In fact, Jeremy gave me the most brilliant idea earlier this week when we met for dinner. He was reminiscing wistfully about the wonderful times he spent when you two visited your mother’s inn in North Carolina.”

Elle tried not to bristle. Why would Jeremy be “reminiscing wistfully” about the Tide Me Over Inn? He only visited there twice. Now that she thought about it, both times he found something to complain about—from the inn to Chances Inlet. He’d found the whole town to be “provincial.”

“My mother’s inn? You want Mr. West to go there to finish his book?”

Both women nodded.

“Um, sure. I’m happy to check with her to see what openings she has. Christmas time is usually as popular as the summer months in Chances Inlet, though. I can research some backup inns just in case.”

Please, Mom, don’t let your inn be full.

“No need.” Helen grinned. “I’ve already spoken with your mother. She’s arranged a suite for Everett through the end of the year.”

“Oh.” Elle was surprised her mom hadn’t said something to her. “That’s great. Do you need me to make any other arrangements for him?”

“Everything is all taken care of.” Helen stood. “You’ll both be flying out first thing tomorrow. Everett has less than five weeks to finish his damn book. I’m counting on you, Elinor, to see that he does. If it comes down to it, chain him to a chair. Stand over him twenty-four hours a day. Whatever it takes.” She gave Elle’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as she walked past. “I know you’re up to the task.”

The publisher was out of the room before Elle realized the impact of her words.

“Wait. What?” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

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About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Tracy Solheim writes books with shirtless men on the cover. Some of them are actually best-sellers. The books, not the men. When she's not writing, she's practicing her curling. . . bottles of wine, that is. She's been known to cook dinner but no more than two nights in a row. Most days, she'd rather be reading, which to her is just necessary research. She lives in the suburbs of Atlanta with her husband and a neurotic Labrador retriever. Her two adult children visit but not often enough. (See the note above about cooking.) Check out her romantic suspense series featuring the Men of the Secret Service--shirtless, of course! See what she’s up to at www.tracysolheim.com

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Spotlight: A Christmas Mystery by Noelle Adams

Release Date: December 13

When I return to my hometown for Christmas, I have only two goals. Spend time with my family and discover the identity of my mystery pen pal. I'm not interested in holiday festivities or reconnecting with old acquaintances, specifically grumpy, infuriating Theo Humphrey

For the past two years, I've been traveling the country in my tiny house, building a substantial social media following and recovering from the death of my fiancé, who died three weeks before our wedding day. Now I'm feeling more myself, and I want to find out who has been writing me anonymously for more than a year. Our online correspondence has become one of the best things in my life, and I'm determined to follow the clues to unravel this mystery.

My plans keep getting disrupted by Theo. He was the best friend of my former fiancé, but he's never liked me. He always thought I was too frivolous and superficial to be a good match for his friend. Now he's always around, glowering and muttering sarcastic comments and generally making a nuisance of himself.

My priority should be revealing my secret pen pal, but instead all I can think about is Theo.

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Meet Noelle Adams

Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn't stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she reads any book she can get her hands on and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.

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Spotlight: Elf Against the Wall by Alina Jacobs

(The Wynter Brothers, #2)

Publication date: November 12th 2024

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

Synopsis:

When you kiss your perfect boyfriend under the mistletoe…only for your cousin to scream to the family that you stole her man, Christmas is OVER.

In my defense, I didn’t know my boss—yup, boss. Buckle up because this is messy—was my cousin’s newly minted and totally lying fiancé. I thought he was the Nutcracker Prince come to finally show my family that I, too, was worthy of putting the star atop the Christmas tree.

I was so wrong.
Now my entire family thinks I’m a ho ho ho.
I’m at the top of the naughty list, not in a fun Elf on the Shelf way, but rather in a snide-comments-at-brunch and sitting-at-the-kids’-table kinda way.

I have to clear my name, or Christmas is ruined. Again.
What better way than to blackmail my family’s number one sworn enemy?
Anderson Wynter is this desperate elf’s last hope. Six-foot-five, ethically challenged, with washboard abs and a death wish, Anderson is the perfect weapon to expose my ex and help me get back in my family’s good graces.
That is, until the weapon massively backfires… and no, not like that.

Anderson goes full Nightmare Before Christmas and shows up at my family’s annual holiday party in nothing but tattoos and a motorcycle helmet and tells everyone we’re dating.
Yep, that kicks me off the naughty list and sends me straight to the Grinch’s garbage dump.

Now I’m chained to a motorcycle-riding bad elf with terrible morals and an even worse attitude—one who sticks his hand down my shirt in the middle of my parents’ posh country club and tells me to ride him like I do his bike.
When I slap him, he just smirks and asks if I fluff my marshmallows while fantasizing about betraying my family with him.
As if.

No way am I sleeping with the man my entire family hates.
Because that won’t just ruin Christmas.
It’ll ruin the rest of my life.

Naughty elves of Christmas checking in! We’re drunk caroling, eating cookies at midnight, surviving family drama, and drooling over hot, unattainable men who are oh so wrong for us. This standalone holiday romantic comedy has all the Christmas cheer you can fit under the tree and a happily ever after guaranteed!

Excerpt

There was a man—a huge man!—in my father’s study, all in heavy black motorcycle gear, a helmet hiding his face. 

Snowball had her needle-sharp teeth latched onto the robber’s pant leg, and he was batting at her roughly, trying to knock her off. 

“Don’t you hurt my dog!” I screamed, picking up a priceless wood statue my parents had brought back from their anniversary trip to Japan and racing after the attacker. 

He grunted in surprise but raised his arm too late to block the statue from crashing into his motorcycle helmet, shattering the tinted visor. 

Eyes like a raging winter storm glared back at me through the broken glass. 

I hefted the statue again, and it connected with one of his massive arms. 

The hit didn’t even knock him off-balance.

“Oh shit,” I whimpered as he took a step toward me. 

The huge arm came up, knocking the statue out of my hands to split on the floor. 

I spun to escape but tripped on the corner of the rug and crashed to the floor, yelling unintelligibly as he pounced on me, pinning me on my back. His huge gloved hand covered my mouth and nose so I couldn’t scream. I could barely breathe. 

“Shut up,” the deep voice ordered, slightly muffled by the broken motorcycle helmet. 

I struggled under the massive male body that had me trapped on the floor, clawing ineffectively at him. 

“What the hell?” he growled. “Fuck, I need to do something with you.” 

Was he going to hurt me? Or take me with him to be—Gulp—disposed of somewhere else?

Don’t let yourself be taken to a second location!

But I couldn’t budge all the muscle and sinew holding me down. 

“Motherfuck—” he roared, snatching his gloved hand back from my mouth as Snowball bit him, her sharp teeth sinking through the gloves into his thumb. 

Sucking in shuddering breaths, I pummeled the man’s helmet as he shook his hand, Snowball not letting go as he flapped her around. 

Scraping my nails on his neck, I managed to drag his helmet off his head and hoisted it, banging it on his face and shoulders as he cursed, finally shaking the dog and the glove free. 

His tattooed hand made a fist and punched the helmet out of my grasp. His knee pinned my hip to the floor. As he raised himself slightly, his face was lit up by passing headlights.

“Oh my god,” I whimpered, eyes bugging out of my head as I took in his chiseled face, strong jaw, black hair, wintery gray eyes, and scars on his cheek and across one eye.

“You’re the… the… the…”

“The… the… the…” he mocked as he catalogued my dawning recognition. 

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About the Author

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

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Spotlight: Love Between Times by Beth Ford

Publication date: November 27th 2024

Genres: Adult, Romance, Time-Travel

Synopsis:

When Ashley’s conventional 21st century life falls apart, she returns to England to write the book she shelved years ago, determined to take control of her life.

Meanwhile, in 1377 Wiltshire, Thomas fights his family’s desire that he become a priest and plots to chase his dream of knighthood instead. While Ashley and Thomas search for answers, Thomas suddenly appears in the modern day.

Unable to communicate, his first encounter with Ashley ends with the police demanding his immigration papers. All Thomas wants is to return to the world he understands, but he and Ashley are drawn together again and again. How will they find the answers Thomas needs before the authorities close in without losing each other forever?

Excerpt

Neither of them said a word. They stood in shock, each assessing the other.

Ashley stared at the young man’s strange clothes. He wore a long, blue shirt over—were those tights?—and oddly shapeless leather boots. Everything he wore appeared homemade. The leather crossbody bag he wore was the only thing he had of decent quality.

She lifted her gaze to his face. His eyes immediately captivated her. They were the most gorgeous shade of blue she had ever seen. His face wasn’t bad either. His hair was thick and a bit long. Even beneath the beard she could tell he had a strong jawline and fine cheekbones. He appeared her age or a bit younger.

Snapping back to herself, she took a few steps backward to put some distance between them. “Sorry,” she said nervously.

The man cocked his head at her like a curious cat trying to figure out what the game was.

“Are you all right?” she finally asked.

He said something that she couldn’t interpret. It was her turn to look confused.

“Are you going to Salisbury?” she asked, since he was headed in the opposite direction she was. Then tried again, “Salisbury?”

“Sarisbury,” he said firmly, correcting her. The middle sound held more of a “r” shape in his mouth instead of an “l.” She couldn’t tell where he was from. The words he had said to her sounded like nothing she had heard before.

But they were getting somewhere. She pointed down the hill toward the city. “Sarisbury,” she said, mimicking him.

He nodded, satisfied. His gaze tracked in the direction she pointed. When his eyes lit on the city, he took a few inadvertent steps back and stumbled over a tree root. Once he was steady on his feet again, he glanced wildly along the horizon. Her eyes darted between him and the view, trying to guess what had surprised him so. Between them and the city, a stretch of highway trailed along the horizon. Nothing particularly remarkable about that. But the man turned pale and crossed himself. When that didn’t improve things in his mind, he pulled a necklace out from under his tunic—she had decided that was the best word for what he was wearing. The necklace was a simple leather cord holding a wooden cross. He rubbed the cross fervently and his lips formed a prayer she couldn’t interpret.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

He glared at her before he turned and dashed back into the forest.

Ashley hesitated, then followed after him. Despite the fact that running into the woods after a potentially crazy man sounded like a setup for a horror movie, she had to make sure he was okay. She couldn’t just leave him here.

He didn’t go very far. A dozen or so feet farther into the woods, he knelt in front of a low, flat rock. Was he praying?

He stayed in that position for several minutes. Ashley hung back, debating what to do. All thoughts of her feud with Sadie blew away, and she focused on this new confrontation. Did he need help? He certainly seemed lost and scared. She would almost think he was a hermit living secluded in the woods, if they weren’t so close to town and the highway. She considered his clothes. Was there a medieval reenactment happening nearby, maybe at Old Sarum where she had been headed? His outfit appeared of that time period. Had she interrupted some event? But no, the small copse was silent except for them and the distant sound of cars passing along the road.

She still hadn’t decided what to do when his eyes opened again. He looked around. When he saw her his face fell, but he didn’t appear so scared this time. He set his jaw in determination, stood, and approached her.

He said something to her. She almost understood a few words. There was something in the middle that sounded like “thu”—was he saying “you” maybe? When she showed no recognition, he said something again. It sounded different this time. The accent on a few words reminded her of French, but she didn’t speak that language except for a few important phrases she had picked up through pop culture such as Voulez-vous couche avec moi? That probably wouldn’t be the best sentence to introduce herself with. She captured a smile before it appeared on her lips.

It would be mortifying if it turned out she just didn’t understand his accent. When she’d lived in England before, she had always found it nearly impossible to understand anyone from Sunderland. Maybe he was from there. “Sunderland?” she asked. He still looked confused. So much for that theory.

He watched her as if he expected her to provide him with some clue or direction.

“Do you need to go to Salisbury?”

“Sarisbury,” he said. This was still the only word they agreed on.

She sighed. If he was a psycho murderer, it was probably best to get out of the countryside and back into the city where she could get help. She inclined her head toward Salisbury. He nodded and followed her down the hill.

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About the Author

Beth Ford is a historical fiction author living in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. She is the author of the novels In the Times of Spirits and Love Between Times as well as the Cassie Woods, Reporter novella series. Her upcoming novel After the Spirits Come: A Continuation of Dickens's A Christmas Carol will be released February 11, 2025. Her work has also appeared in a variety of literary journals. 

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Spotlight: Murder at Pelican Lake by Marjorie Mathison

Publication date: September 10th 2024

Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery

Synopsis:

When 34-year-old Carley Norgren loses her high-profile job and her partner in the span of a few short months, she returns to the place that feels most like home – her childhood cabin on Pelican Lake, Minnesota. She hadn’t been back since her father’s death from a heart attack two years earlier. When a teenager is abducted, it becomes clear that her once-sleepy lake community has its share of secrets – and someone who will kill to keep them hidden.

In this almost-cozy mystery, one small community learns that the view from the dock isn’t always what it seems. This book is the first book of the North Lakes Murder Mystery Series.

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Monday

Three men sat in a large white van parked on the road bordering Long Lake, watching three teenage girls spill out of a school bus. The light breeze off the lake and the scent of lilacs in the air were a sharp contrast to the sweat and grease inside the vehicle. The girls walked up the road, laughing and shoving each other playfully. One of the men said, pointing, “That’s her. The one on the left with long brown hair.” The other two nodded.

The orange school bus accelerated in the distance and disappeared into the bright blue sky, leaving the three girls in its wake. They lived four blocks from each other in Vergas, Minnesota. Friends since kindergarten, now they were sophomores at Frazee High School, about eight miles away. Eleanor leaned into Lindsey. “Hey. I saw Paul today.” 

“So?” Lindsey asked, raising her eyebrows only slightly.

“I talked to him. Did you know he won’t be around until next fall?” 

“No, why?”

“Because he lives with his dad in the Twin Cities over the summer. See, I actually talked with him. We were standing next to each other during the fire drill. I couldn’t resist—I asked him if he likes you.” She paused.

Lindsey said, “You should mind your own business.” 

“Probably. But he does. I thought you’d want to know,” Eleanor said, jostling Lindsey with her shoulder.

“You two! Give it up,” Michelle laughed.

Lindsey could feel a flutter in her stomach. She’d had a crush on Paul since they first met. Eleanor knew that. Secretly, she was glad Eleanor had had the guts to ask him. He was quiet but smart. And cute. Not stuck on himself like most of the guys she knew. They were friends on socials, but that was about it. They’d only talked a couple of times. Maybe they’d go out in the fall. Homecoming. Football games. Movies. It would be fun to have a boyfriend, she thought as she kicked a stone with her toe.

As they approached Long Lake, the three friends waved goodbye. Eleanor and Michelle lived on the same block and turned left to go home, while Lindsey continued along the street bordering the lake. Tomorrow night they’d have a sleepover at Michelle’s to celebrate the end of the school year. 

She walked down the empty road, her friends’ voices fading away. A large white van started up and pulled out onto the road a ways ahead of her. It looked like it was headed straight toward her. The sun shone in her eyes, and she raised her hand to block it. She moved farther onto the shoulder at the side of the road to give the van more room. Could the driver see her? She waved and shifted onto the grass on the edge of the road. The large, dented vehicle pulled up directly beside her. Two big men jumped out and grabbed her by the arms. Suddenly, her head and body were covered by something rough and scratchy. She wasn’t sure she could breathe. She frantically fought to get it off, but the strong arms that held her made that impossible. She screamed as loud as she could. Her whole body went taut as she tried to resist their grip. Clawing at the fabric, she struggled to get loose. She could feel herself being lifted up and hoisted onto the floor of the van. It was hard, metal, with a lot of ridges. Pain shot up through the arm she landed on. The van reeked of gasoline, fertilizer, and manure. Her foot kicked something, and she gagged at the smell of a strong chemical.

She gasped for air and reflexively kicked one of the men as hard as she could.

“Don’t be stupid,” the man said, gravel in his voice, “if you want to get out of this alive.”

Carley steered her red Jeep Wrangler carefully down the lake road that wound its way through fields of wheat, soybeans, and corn. Ahead of her, two vehicles kicked up a large cloud of dust from the gravel. She was relieved when both turned off—she didn’t want anything blocking her view of the lake as she came over the last rise in the road. There it was. The place she loved most in the world. She could see the blue water shimmering in the fading sunlight.

She turned on the road leading to the cabin, driving past lake homes of all shapes and sizes on one side, and woods and storage units on the other. As she approached the cabin, she could feel the muscles in her stomach tightening. It had been two years since she had been back. She had ached to return but had dreaded the emotion she knew was waiting for her there.

Carley pulled into the gravel driveway and braced herself as the car rolled to a stop. Hesitating slightly, she took in the view, then climbed out of the car. As she scanned the property, she was surprised by how little had changed. The garage, on the corner of the driveway adjacent to the road, was surrounded by red, yellow, and orange hollyhocks and a large raspberry patch with thousands of blossoms. One lone rose bush had survived the winter and had two coral buds. She noted that weeds had sprouted between the bricks in the path leading to the log cabin, and the taupe-colored paint on the cabin had peeled in spots. But the peaked roof and stone fireplace still gave the cabin a sense of grandness. Carley spotted the old wooden rocking chair—where she had spent hours reading—on the porch. Under the shade of a gigantic oak tree stood the playhouse her father had built for her when she was a child. It was just as she remembered. The familiarity of it seared her soul. 

In the light of dusk, she could see Pelican Lake, calm and settled, just beyond the cottage. Tired from the three-hour drive, she stretched her legs and shook her somewhat disheveled, blonde hair in the light lake breeze as if she were casting off what was happening in her life. An unexpected ripple of exhilaration bubbled up inside her when she saw the lake. Her small, white, Westie terrier, Abigail Rose, pushed past her and ran around the yard, looking thrilled to be released from the car. Carley walked to the edge of the water and stood, hands in the back pockets of her jeans, listening to a loon warble to its mate and watching the big, red fireball sun touch the horizon, quickly disappearing below the trees that surrounded the lake. The air smelled like nowhere else—a distinct combination of fresh water, dead fish, cut grass, and wet wood. She took a deep breath. How could this place stay so much the same when the rest of her life was so chaotic? A fish jumped out of the water to snap up an insect. Of course, the calm surface of the lake was deceiving; there was a lot of chaos underwater, too.

The beach was almost deserted because it was Monday. Carley turned to Abigail, who was sniffing the grass at her feet, and said, “It’s quiet here tonight, girl. But it’ll get busier this weekend. If I lived in Fargo like everyone around here, I’d stay at the lake all summer.” She paused. “Oh, that’s right. I get to do that now,” she said, nodding her head at the irony of what she had just said. For the past twelve years—since college—she had lived in the Twin Cities. This summer was different. This summer she would live here. Now it was the only home she had.

Her mind drifted to the chaos she had left behind. It started when her company was bought out by a New York firm. They offered her a position if she would relocate. But when she declined, they had no choice but to let her go. They’d given her a six-month consulting contract to work on a new product release. Mac was the main reason she turned down the New York job. How ironic. Shortly after that, Mac ended their relationship. She’d been so absorbed with work during the buyout, she hadn’t realized how little attention she was giving him. She loved her job and counted the people she worked with as family. There were twelve-hour workdays and many going away parties as most of the people she cared about either moved to New York or were terminated. She was so involved with the drama in her coworkers’ lives that she wasn’t aware of the drama unfolding in hers.

51

By 6:00 p.m., Carley was getting hungry, and Abigail was getting restless. The dog looked up at her wide-eyed. Abigail went and stood by the door, giving out two short barks, the signal it was time for a break. Carley looked outside through the kitchen window and, seeing no activity, let her out, hoping Abigail didn’t decide to chase a squirrel today. She had promised Mark she wouldn’t leave the house.

Ten minutes later, the familiar scratch at the back door announced Abigail was ready to come back in. When Carley opened the door, filling the doorframe was James holding Abigail Rose in one arm and an automatic pistol in the other. He gave her his charming, dimpled grin and asked, “Can I come in? I’d like you to hear my side of the story.” 

Without thinking, she heaved her shoulder and whole body against the door to force it shut, but he was too fast for her. Wedging his shoe between the door and the doorframe, he pushed with all his strength. She lost her balance and reeled backwards. Where had she put Mark’s gun? She frantically glanced around the room, but he said, “Please don’t try anything stupid. I’ve grown attached to this little mutt, and I know you have too. I’d hate to see anything happen to her.” Abigail looked up at him, unaware of the threat, and licked his chin. 

“What do you want from me?” she asked. 

 “I want you. I want you to come with me. We can get away from all of this. My sources say the FBI is closing in. I can keep you safe. I know people. And I have cash stashed away. The Canadian border is three hours from here. Once we’ve crossed over, we can go anywhere, and no one will find us. Someplace remote. There are parts of Canada where no one would ever think to look for us.”

Ohmygod, Carley thought. He is crazy. He expects me to go with him. He’s going to take me where no one knows me, where no one will be looking for me, where no one can find me. She gulped hard. Where is Mark? How long until he gets here? How can I stall James?

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About the Author

Marjorie Mathison Hance is the author of the North Lakes Murder Mystery Series, including Murder at Pelican Lake, Cormorant in the Net, and The Man Three Cottages Down. The novels, all set in Minnesota’s northwestern lake country, were inspired by her time spent on Pelican Lake throughout her life, beginning in 1956 when she first learned to fish and waterski. Growing up she enjoyed reading and fell in love with mystery books after discovering Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden.

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Spotlight: A Christmas Dream by Shanna Hatfield

(Hudson House Holiday, #1)

Publication date: November 14th 2024

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

Synopsis:

He came to build the house of his dreams, but found a home for his heart.

After an extensive search for the ideal location to build a house he’s spent years designing, Brant Hudson knows he’s found the perfect site the moment he sets foot on the land near Silver Bluff, Oregon. However, frustrating delays leave him laboring alongside the very crew he hired to finish the house in time for Christmas. His work leads the woman who catches his eye to believe he’s a carpenter rather than the owner of the grand manor.

Holland Drake grew up on a farm, but she aspires to secure a position as a housemaid at Hudson House. While delivering lunch to her brother at the worksite, the door opens to a job when Holland encounters a strikingly handsome carpenter whose charm captivates her. Soon, Holland discovers the enchanting man is none other than the owner of the house and her new employer.

As the holiday season arrives amid a flurry of excitement and possibilities, Holland and Brant face choices that could change their lives forever. Will fear hold them back from stepping into the future together, or will their Christmas dreams of love come true?

A Christmas Dream is the first book in the Hudson House Holiday series of wholesome, heartwarming Christmas romances full of the joy of the season.

Excerpt

Another thirty minutes passed, during which time Brant envisioned thick slices of smoky ham encased between fluffy biscuits hot from the oven as he worked. He was just about to suggest to Remington they take a break for the noon meal when a woman as pretty as any Brant had ever encountered breezed into the room carrying a large basket covered with a blue-checkered cloth.

“Denver! I thought I’d never find you in this colossus of a house. I saw Colin outside, and he said you were in the library, but so much has changed since the last time I was in here, I thought I might wander around lost until you starved to death.” The woman’s gaze shifted from the carpenter on the second floor, taking in Brant and Remington as they hastily stood. “Oh, hello.”

Denver scrambled down the ladder where he’d been working on the trim at the top of a bookcase. Brant was surprised he didn’t fall and break his neck the way he skipped the last four rungs, using just his hands on the sides of the ladder to slide to the floor. It was a trick Brant intended to have Denver teach him another day.

“Holland, I didn’t know you were coming today. I would have met you outside.” Denver glanced nervously from the young woman to Brant, and then back to the fetching female as he raced down the spiral staircase.

The woman shrugged. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Did Denver have a wife and children awaiting him at home in Silver Bluff? In the three years of Hudson House’s construction, Brant had gotten to know the names of every worker and thought he had a thorough mental list of those who were married and those who were not. How had he overlooked Denver’s family? Especially when the man had such an attractive wife?

Shiny brown hair she wore pulled back from her face, fastened with a ribbon at the nape of her graceful neck, fell in glorious waves to her waist. Freckles splattered a narrow, upturned nose. Her bottom lip, fuller than the top, rested in a natural pout that was most alluring. Her brown eyes snapped with intelligence and interest when they landed on Brant again. Her features were delicate and decidedly feminine, and she owned such a happy countenance, it made Brant want to smile just being in the same room with her.

Denver Drake was a most fortunate man if the woman holding a basket from which delicious aromas emanated was, indeed, his wife.

“Who might this be, Denver?” Brant asked, taking a step closer to the couple, curious and oddly interested in the answer.

“Holland Drake,” Denver said, taking the basket from the woman and giving her a slight nudge forward.

A wave of disappointment washed over Brant. So, she was married to Denver.

“My sister,” Denver continued.

The desire to raise his fist and cheer was almost more than Brant could contain, but he managed to tamp down his victorious feeling and school his features into what he hoped was a welcoming expression. The lovely woman was not married, at least not to Denver.

“Miss Drake,” Brant said, closing the distance between them and taking her hand in his. He raised her slender fingers to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand while holding her gaze.

Her eyes widened slightly, though he could see curiosity lingering there, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “I haven’t seen you working around the house before. Are you new?”

It was on the tip of Brant’s tongue to tell her the truth. To say he was the one who would eventually live in the house that had once been a dream scattered across multiple sheets of paper. Instead, he decided he wanted to get to know this woman, not as the owner of a fancy home, but as one of the many men helping to build it.

“I’m not new, but help was needed in the library today.” That wasn’t a lie, but the stark truth. He and Remington would likely contribute countless hours of physical labor if the house was to get finished by his own self-imposed deadline prior to his sister’s holiday arrival.

“Mister …” Denver started to speak up, but Brant gave him a brief shake of his head along with a warning look. The young man swallowed hard and nodded once in understanding. “Mr. Hudson is hoping to be able to use the library soon. It will also serve as his office, and he’d like it to be the first room completely finished. That’s why we’re all working so hard to make that happen.”

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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