Delia Latham's Blog, page 3

PBG Christmas Titles: Christmas Trinkets (LoRee Peery)

About Christmas Trinkets:She was looking for coffee and conversation. He was looking for a quiet place to write. What they found was a connection that would make this Christmas unforgettable.Hayley Wolfe shares a kinship with the lost and lonely. Growing up without a father taught her that you can’t always count on people. Her strong faith in God taught her that her Heavenly Father is unshakable. When she meets Kameron Kohl at her antiques and coffee shop, she’s immediately drawn to his warmth and charm.After being abandoned on the steps of a church as a baby, Kameron Kohl has spent his life rejecting God and meaningful relationships. After all, his own mother didn’t care for him, so why should anyone else. But Kameron never expected to meet Hayley Wolfe. Her faith in Christ, her inner beauty and selfless openness towards strangers, has Kameron falling for her hard.When Hayley notices a connection between Kameron's keychain and the locket passed down to her from her mother, she wants to investigate further. Kameron refuses. As friendship turns to love, Hayley will have to rely on God to soften Kameron’s heart.Will the connection between their Christmas Trinkets lead them to love or unanswerable questions?

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Christmas Trinkets Excerpt:He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. ~ Psalm 147:3Hayley switched on interior lights and the open sign to Auntie’s Antiquities, then glanced up at Victorian replica ornaments decorating the garland that dangled at the edge of the window.Ross Travis from the garage across the road approached at the same time as another early bird, who held the door.“Welcome, gentlemen. Coffee will be done in a minute.”The stranger gave her a nod and headed for the seating area.Ross flipped steel-gray hair from the corner of his eye and watched steam from the coffeemaker.Hayley picked up parchment paper and selected a piece of cut fudge. “Hope Bette Jean likes today’s selection. It isn’t chocolate.”“Peanut Butter’s my favorite. Blasted diabetes.”She turned her shoulder to protect her homemade delight in case Ross reached for it. “I’m putting it in a bag or Bette Jean will give me guff because you bit into it before you made it across the road.”“Your fudge is the best kept secret around here or you’d have all of east Lincoln driving out this way.”“To keep Bette Jean off my back and you out of the hospital, this fudge is for your wife alone.” She closed the bag with a double fold and accepted payment. “Tell her to come over and check out the latest brooch I found.”“You’d make your mom proud the way you carry on her love for junk.”She switched her attention from Ross to the man who slung his shoulder bag onto the marble-topped parlor table. Men around her age, shy of thirty, rarely came in.He ignored her as she neared with the carafe of steaming coffee. He’d removed his coat and placed it over the back of a mahogany chair with inlaid rose in needlepoint.She suppressed a giggle at sight of the laptop as he flipped it open. No such new-fangled invention had ever touched the antique marble.The man closed his eyes and performed what looked like a ritual, based on the concentrated breathing and shrugged shoulders, followed by immediate dropping of the hands.“Coffee?”He jerked up his head, clearly startled. “I didn’t…OK. Sure. Thanks.”Wow. Good looking, but preoccupied. Brown eyes. An interesting crooked nose that no doubt told a story. Square unshaven jaw. Not classically handsome, but attractive enough to garner a second look.“You’re the first to walk into my shop with a computer. Advanced grad student?”He frowned, which twitched his full bottom lip downward. “No. Writer.”Goodness. A man of few words. Correction. Few spoken words. “I’m not used to people coming in to hang out. I just offer customers coffee or a glass of water. My fudge is pricey enough so I provide complimentary drinks. You’re welcome to a refill.”He ignored her, ran his bottom teeth over his top lip, and stared at his computer.“Sorry for carrying on. I’ll leave you be.”His fingers clacked at a fast pace by the time she reached the breakfront.So much for conversation with someone new. Quiet days at Auntie’s turned busy around late morning. Some shoppers still gave old stuff as Christmas gifts.She glanced at her guest again. Hunched over, his fingers flew in a furious manner as though they couldn’t keep up with his thoughts. A glance out the window showed no parked car. If he was having work done at the garage, Ross would have talked to the stranger. Returning clientele drove out from Lincoln, but more often than not, locals breezed through while they waited for work to be done on their vehicles.Someone must have told the new guy about her shop. No way would he have toted a laptop while enjoying the hiking trail and just happened to stop in.Hers had been a rather isolated existence with only her mom around. She’d always believed if a father had been in the picture she’d know more about people and have a broader world experience. The clacking stopped. The writer tapped his foot. Ran both hands through his straw…no, golden hair. He peered out the window, but she doubted he even noticed the open overhead door across the road.The newcomer looked down and glared at his coffee cup as though surprised to see it waiting there. Picked it up, and caught her gaze over the rim. It took a second, but a foggy curtain, or daze, seemed to clear. Then he noticed her.She approached. “I’m Hayley Wolfe. I apologize if you felt me staring. Are you always so totally absorbed in the task of writing?”He gulped. Set down the empty mug, gave a slight nod. “Kameron Kohl. Yes, I shut out the world around me as much as I can.”“Kameron Kohl. Writer. As in blogs, newspapers, journalist, books?”He hesitated. “Books. Dystopian for young readers.”“I’ve never met a real author before. May I ask what brings you to Edgewood, Nebraska?” She waited. The dazed expression returned. Had he slipped back into his make-believe world?“I get lost in other places where my story guys struggle to survive through their heroic exploits.”“What exactly is dystopian?”“Alternate, yet believable world. Fantasy where disaster or a dictator have bands of people fearing for their lives, trying to stay alive and survive.”“Do they find love?”She read a Huh? in his expression.“I don’t write romance.” “I’m sorry.” Ugh. Uncomfortable. “I’ll get you a refill and leave you alone.”He slid a glance to the right, back to meet hers as she prepared to pivot. “I don’t mean to be rude. I’m on deadline for getting a first draft to my agent. Still working out some of this dangerous forest world I’ve created for lost boys.”“I’ve loved to read since I was a kid. What’s your story about?”“It’s the first in a new series. A future century to take kids away from the troubles of the real world.”“Got it. I’m more a sweet mystery lover. With a little romance.”“Women,” leaked out under his breath.She giggled, waved her free hand. “Couldn’t help myself.”Kameron tapped a knuckle against his mouth, rolled his shoulders into a hunch, and typed away. Cute, but did he ever smile?Carafe returned to the warmer, she picked up a feather duster and went to the front window where motes magically appeared in the sunshine. Shiny speckles caught the light. Hundreds of silver sparkles glistened on the shelf beneath a sparse pine branch she used to display her impulse buy of bird nests. According to the online ad, every true Victorian Christmas tree held a hidden nest for good luck.She’d never believed in luck, and purchased the replicas just for fun. Should she leave the miniature antique tractors drowning in glitter of varied sizes?Kameron appeared at her side. “Don’t whisk away the sparkle. The shiny spots wouldn’t look nearly as magical spread over the floor or in a dustpan.”He reached around her and dabbed a circle of silver caught on a tractor seat with a finger and resettled it on a square of midnight blue velvet that showcased an elaborate filigreed garnet brooch. Without permission he spread his hand to pick up sprinkles, and then brushed them onto the velvet.“They look like stars. Good accent touch. Thank you.”“Welcome.” He raised his empty mug. “Your brew’s good. I can pour my own refill. I didn’t see a coffee price on your blackboard, only homemade fudge and penny candy.”“Coffee’s on the house. Candy’s shelved in the vault.”“Candy in a vault? Catchy.”“We’re in an old bank.” Facing him, sun glinted on his brown eyes and turned the rim around the iris to gold. “Ross from the garage was in earlier. They have a machine but the coffee tastes commercial rather than fresh brewed, so he comes here when he can.”“And leaves with fudge.”Kameron topped off his mug and sipped as he studied curiosities in one of the white-washed cabinets. For a writer, he had nice muscled shoulders.What a thing to notice. She turned back to the window. It took three minutes to dust over the doll and crib that cradled it, repositioned a replica Montgomery Ward catalogue. She unclipped a nest from the faux tree and sprinkled more silver on a red velvet tray holding costume rings.“I didn’t answer your question.” Kameron’s voice at her side made her jerk. “The pastor is on vacation so I’m taking care of his dogs.”“How do you know Pastor Gregg?”“I’ve known him all my life. What’s this piece of canvas with laces?”Hayley stepped to his side. “Few people know what they are. Odd looking, don’t you agree? I’ve tried to imagine the potential buyer. They’re called spats. Men in the nineteen twenties tied them over their shoes and laced them on top. They’re a perfect accent to the silk stockings. I like to think a young handsome groom wore the spats and the stockings belonged to his beautiful bride.”A shadow creased Kameron’s forehead.His expression was dark enough to make her swallow and slide her gaze away. What did he smell like? It had been a long time since she missed her sense of smell.She fingered a silver garter, created a purposeful wrinkle in one silk stocking heel where it draped over a hand-painted wooden box. “Maybe you could write a story about star-crossed lovers who wore such items as these.”“If I was into that time period. Speaking of stories…” He gulped his coffee and handed her the empty cup.She ran an eye over his retreating back, and sighed as he resumed his seat. While brushing the feather duster over rims of ruby crystal, her glances strayed to Kameron at the corner table. How long did he plan to stay in Edgewood? Would he return to Antiquities?
About the Author:Christian romance author LoRee Peery writes to feel alive, as a way of contributing, and to pass forward the hope of rescue from sin. She writes of redeeming grace with a sense of place. LoRee clings to I John 5:4 and prays her family sees that faith. She has authored the Frivolities Series and other e-books. Her desire for readers, the same as for her characters, is to discover where they fit in this life journey to best work out the Lord’s life plan. She is who she is by the grace of God: Christian, country girl, wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, and author. She’s been a reader since before kindergarten.Connect with LoRee through these links:

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PBG Christmas Titles: Winter Wonders and A Christmas Beau (Delia Latham)

About Winter Wonders (Paradise Pines, Book 4)
Kalani (Winter) Wonder has much bigger plans than being a local news anchor. National plans…maybe even international. She certainly won’t be stuck in Cornelius Cove, California for the rest of her life. She’s going places. Big places. Faraway places. Grand places she’s only dreamed of so far.Then her brother’s little puddle-jumper plane crashes in the Cambria pines, leaving them both stuck in a lovely old fishing lodge with a strange-but-wonderful lady who has a knack for making Winter’s mind go places it doesn’t want to go. Places like Heaven, and God…and love.Pastor Brady Merckle leads a quiet life, far from the one he led as a youth, and he likes things just the way they are. Then Winter Wonder lands in Cambria, and he enjoys the beautiful anchor woman’s company far too much. Brady doesn’t need an over-curious reporter digging into his past, and besides, Winter doesn’t know God. He’d best stay a whole village away from her.But when he’s hired to spruce up Paradise Pines Lodge, he and Winter find themselves thrown unavoidably together.
Winter has landed, and a Miracle is about to happen.


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Winter Wonders Excerpt:
WHAT HAD EVER POSSESSED HER to climb into this jelly-bean-sized airplane?Winter could have driven the five hours from Cornelius Cove to Santa Barbara, but her editor was antsy for the story she’d be bringing back. Using the rental plane pared a good many hours off her time away from the anchor desk at CoastNews, a television news channel covering California’s Central Coast.She had jumped on the opportunity for a bit of alone time with her twin brother, who piloted the C-Cove Flying Taxi planes. They were both busy climbing often unstable ladders to success in fledgling careers, and opportunities for visits of any length came along all too seldom.“Hang on, Sis.” Winter heard the string-tight tension in Kai’s warning only because she knew him so well. The crease in his brow didn’t make for a warm, fuzzy feeling either. “I’m gonna have to take ’er down, and the landing’ll be about as smooth as an over-aged pineapple’s skin.”The little puddle jumper dipped in a sickening cant to one side, and Winter’s eyes widened at sight of the ground, way too far below. She gasped and balled her hands into tight fists, but managed a shaky smile at her brother’s terminology. Born to a Navy dad from northern California and an island mother, she and Kai had been raised in Oahu, Hawaii. Even now, after a decade in California, they often thought and spoke in terms influenced by Hawaiian culture.“We’ve survived rough stuff before, Kai. Just do your best, it’s always good enough.”Kai struggled to right the wavering aircraft, but glanced her way for half a second. “I love you, Kalani. You know that, don’t you?”Oh, yeah…they were in serious trouble. Under normal circumstances, he would never risk the sharp end of her tongue by using the name her parents gave her. She’d taken on a “stage name” when she went on the air for KCCN, and insisted her family use it and learn to think of her by that name. When her parents balked, she reminded them that she had kept the family surname. Although Kai didn’t see the need for a name change, he stepped in to support her choice, and their parents eventually acquiesced—although they clearly considered it a ridiculous and unnecessary move on her part.So Kalani became Winter Wonder. A name that zipped and zinged, sizzled and sang with so much more dramatic punch and memorability than did her given name. This was a moniker fit for a celebrity—and that’s what she intended to be. A celebrity.And now Kai had called her Kalani. He did so now and then, but usually with tongue in cheek, a deliberate ploy to get her dander up. She wished he was being a tease of a brother right now, but his voice and expression wrecked any hope of that. Her heart clenched, even as the plane took a sharp nose dive toward the ground.“I love you too, brother mine.” She made a noisy show of checking her seat belt. “Now shut up and cut the rough stuff off that ancient pineapple.”




About A Christmas Beau
Katie Knowles’ life is going just as she planned. Even her long-time crush on her sister’s boss, Cameron Hilliard, has fallen into place. The two have become what most people consider “an item,” and Katie knows Cameron cares for her. Deeply. But something keeps him from committing completely to their relationship.Cam finds himself wading the murky waters of love a bit later than most men. He’s thirty-two when the love bug finally bites. At twenty-four, Katie’s so young. So pure. So innocent. Although he’s at peace with his past and has found Christ, Cam can claim none of those things. Is it fair to ask a special woman like Katie to tie her future to his?Then Katie comes face to face with a ghost from a part of Cam's past he’d like to erase, and he faces the very real possibility of losing her. Suddenly their differences no longer matter. He has to find a way to set the situation right, face the consequence of his most shameful secret, and win back Katie’s trust and love.
But when the clock strikes midnight on Christmas day, it’ll be too late. Is their faith and love strong enough to bring them a real-life Christmas miracle?Kindle          Pub/Mobi/Adobe
A Christmas Beau Excerpt:From his booth in Santini’s Italiano, Cameron Hilliard kept an eye on the entrance. His lips curved into a wide, unstoppable grin when his date appeared in the doorway. He could no more have held back that smile than he could’ve stopped the sun from shining.Katie Knowles possessed some kind of ‘magic’ that made smiles happen—and Cam wasn’t alone in feeling its effect. A quick glance around the vicinity revealed at least a half dozen pair of eyes fixed on the tiny, auburn-haired woman in the arched doorway—every one of them accompanied by a big, happy, helpless grin.He stood, and her green gaze found him in an instant.Katie accepted the discreet brush of his lips against her cheek. “How was your day, Cam?”Her sweet smile wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed hard. He pulled air into his lungs, wondering for the hundredth time what he was doing. Every minute he spent with this beautiful woman was one moment deeper under her spell, one smile closer to losing his heart forever…and still he kept coming around. What was he thinking? What in the world had possessed him to risk a relationship with a woman so young, and so far out of his league?He bit back a chuckle at his slight mental exaggeration. At twenty-five, Katie was eight years younger—enough to make their formative experiences somewhat different, but not so much that the gap made a relationship impossible.He looked at her across a candlelit booth overhung with grape vines and twinkling lights. “Maybe you should tell me about your day, Katiekins. It’s bound to be more interesting.”“You first.” Katie blasted him with a thousand-watt smile, effectively dousing any sensible thought he might have had. “I want to know about every second you spent away from me.”He smiled back—something he’d done a far sight more since Katie came into his life—and laid an open hand on the table. She slid hers into it without hesitation, big green eyes lit up like emerald stars.Cam, my man, there’s no hope for you. You’re a goner.“Every second?”“Uh-huh. From the moment you opened your eyes this morning until this very moment.”“That’s a pretty tall order. I’d really hate to bore you with the details of my humdrum Friday. I didn’t do anything worth talking about.”“Everything you do is interesting to me, Cam, because…well, because you’re you.”How many women would be so open about their feelings?In the name of honesty, he had to admit that he’d almost certainly be uncomfortable with that degree of candidness in most women he’d dated. But not this woman. Katie’s forthright demeanor refreshed him, made him feel vibrant.And that’s what scared him all the way to his core.Was it possible he was just caught up in her youthful exuberance for life? Maybe what he felt for her wasn’t real. And maybe that light in her eyes when she looked at him was no more than a crush on her sister’s boss.“Cam?” Her voice held an uncertain edge. “Is—is something wrong?”He laughed and squeezed the hand he still held. “What could possibly be wrong? I’m in the company of a sweet, smart, beautiful woman who seems to actually enjoy being with this old geezer.”“I love being with you, you know that—and you’re not old.” Her auburn eyebrows took a dive toward each other, while green eyes flashed her displeasure. “Why do you insist on thinking of yourself like that?”“Maybe because you’re so young.” He grinned, knowing she wouldn’t let him by with that comment.“I’m not that much younger than you.” She narrowed her eyes, causing an adorable crease to show up between her eyebrows. “An eight-year age difference doesn’t make you a cradle robber, and besides—" An impish smile lit her face. “You didn’t exactly kidnap me.”“Well, that’s true.” That little spark of fire. He loved it—especially when paired with her fun-loving personality. “You kind of leaped out of the cradle and into my waiting arms, didn’t you?”“Yep, and I’d do it again, so no more self-deprecating comments about your age…old man. Got that?”“Got it.”“Good. Then let’s start over. Tell me about your day.”“Well, it wasn’t bad. Belle and I made a few customers happy, closed a couple of accounts, and contracted another one or two. That’s a good day. But…”“But what?”
About the Author:
Writing Heaven’s touch into earthly tales, Delia Latham puts her characters through the fire of earthly trials to bring them out victorious by the hand of God, His heavenly messengers, and good, old-fashioned love. You’ll always find a touch of the divine in her tales of sweet romance.
Delia lives in East Texas with her husband Johnny. She’s a Christian wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, and author of inspirational romance…with a finger or two immersed in the design pool, where she creates beautiful marketing material for other authors. She treasures her role as child of the King and heir to the throne of God. She’s got a “thing” for Dr. Pepper and loves hearing from readers.
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PBG Christmas Titles: A Semi-Sweet Summer (Jan Elder)

About A Semi-Sweet Summer
On a bright, crisp December morning, jewelry store manager, Peridot Keaton-Jones, arrives at work expecting to find her beloved uncle Marty. Instead, she’s greeted by the muzzle of a gun pressed to her temple. When thugs assault her, threaten her life, and steal thousands of dollars worth of jewelry, Peri can only pray her uncle is late to work for the first time in his life.Christopher Lane is a TV news cameraman in the right place at the right time. He witnesses the heist, calls the police, and offers help when Peri needs it most. She can't deny her attraction, but is he really her hero, or is he just after a story? And with Christmas right around the corner, can Peri and Chris avert a holiday disaster?
Purchase on Amazon

Excerpt
My hand stilled as cold steel pressed hard against my temple. A gloved hand covered my mouth, and a low voice rumbled in my ear.“Keep your mouth shut and turn off the alarm. We won’t hurt you if you play nice. All we’re after is the jewelry.”God, help me!I couldn’t see the man who’d sneaked up behind me, but he wrenched my left arm behind my back and shoved the gun up against my skull. I wasn’t about to resist, but my heart stuttered so hard I barely recognized my own voice. “It’s easier to open the door and disarm the alarm if I have both hands.” Where had that come from? I almost sounded collected.He released me. “Well, aren’t you the plucky thing? Remember I have my .45 pointed at the back of your head.”As if I could forget. With trembling fingers, I turned my key in the lock of Keaton’s Jewelers, switched on the lights, and fumbled to shut off the beeping alarm. The robber didn’t need to know my uncle was too frugal to spring for an alarm system that notified the police…or anyone.We. He’d said we. How many of them were there? And where was the accomplice? I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. It wasn’t quite 10 AM and the jewelry store was due to open in five minutes. Where was Uncle Marty? He was always here early. Always.With an unrelenting hand on my back, the man hustled me into the showroom.I peered over my shoulder and stole a good look at him. He was tall and burly, his mouth twisted into a sneer. And that was all I could see—his mouth. A dark blue ski mask covered his hair and the rest of his face. But his eyes. His eyes were a cold, mean, arctic blue. This guy exuded unbridled malevolence.“Do you think she has a key to the jewelry cases?” The second robber’s voice cracked.I twisted until he came into my line of vision. His slim build pegged him as a kid, maybe mid to late-teens. He slouched in his worn black jeans, black t-shirt, and a black hoodie. So cliché. His mask drooped a bit on the left side, and I could just make out the beginnings of a scraggly beard covering a thin, café au lait African-American face.“That’ll take too long,” Mean-Eyes snapped. “Why do you think we brought the hammer, moron?”“OK, OK, OK.” Hoodie-boy lowered his voice to a whisper. “And I ain’t no moron.”“Shut your trap.” Whipping a small, oddly shaped orange hammer from the waistband of his jeans, the nasty man moved over to one of the gem cases, raised his hand high, and let fly. The watchcase fractured into little pieces. Thank goodness,  safety glass covered the display cases.Hoodie-boy opened an old backpack and hurriedly scooped up men’s and ladies’ watches.Mean-Eyes broke open another case, the diamond engagement rings this time. He nailed me with a contorted leer that lifted into a smirk, then slipped a diamond ring on his pinky—one of our gaudier items. The way he waved that gun around was nerve-wracking. But then he zeroed in on me and aimed the pistol at my head.I froze. Was I about to die?
About the Author
JAN ELDER is an inspirational romance writer with a passion for telling stories other women can relate to on a deep level. She strives to write the kind of book that will strengthen the reader’s faith, introducing the reader to a loving and forgiving Lord who walks beside us in our daily lives, while also providing an entertaining and engrossing love story.Happily married for fourteen years to loving (and supportive) husband, Steve, the two live in central Maryland along with Jamie (a chubby black and white tuxedo cat), and Shu-Shu (a willowy tortoiseshell cat). On the weekends, Jan and Steve comb the nearby countryside in search of the perfect ice cream flavor.

PBG Christms Titles: The Mayweather Christmas Quest (Dana Pratola)

About The Mayweather Christmas Quest:
Of all the things to find in the snow… A husband?The forecast is for snow—but she's dreaming of more than a white Christmas. Olympia Mayweather is sure there's only one way to find a husband - through a family tradition that says she must kiss the man of her dreams in a Christmas snow. When a reporter comes to interview her for the local paper, she's afraid he's going to make a mockery of her, ruining her chance for a Christmas love. David Santina isn't sure a magical kiss will make Olympia a bride. But spending time with the charming woman and getting to know her just might make David believe in fairy tales. He'll protect her from a tabloid story, but who is going to keep him from completing The Mayweather Christmas Quest?
About Dana Pratola:
God gave me a passion to write Christian Romance. These books don’t contain explicit sex scenes, but my characters have real desires, struggles and choices to make. A lot of the time they make the wrong ones. No subject is prohibited, but good always triumphs and God is glorified.In my personal life, He has also blessed me with a wonderful husband and three dynamic children, all of whom are destined to make wide, colorful splashes in this world. We share our New Jersey home with three dogs. I have no hobbies to speak of, unless you include writing. I don’t.
Excerpt:
Olympia sneered. It was hard to tell if this guy was sincere. He seemed to be, but reporters would do what was necessary to get a story, right? David twisted, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small note pad and pen. “If you don’t mind…” he said, raising the items for their inspection. “How long has this tradition been a part of your family?”“Oh, who knows,” Mom said. “It’s been going around at least as long as my great, great grandparents. Who knows before then? I suppose you could research it.”“That’s what he’s doing now, Mom.” David smiled at her, then back at her mother. “And what specifically does this tradition entail? Are there certain guidelines, superstitions…?”“Are you asking if we go through a blood ritual?” Olympia asked.“Olympia, be nice,” her mother scolded. “It’s pretty straightforward,” she told David. “A Mayweather girl has to be somewhere where it’s snowing on Christmas Day, and if she meets a man under a Christmas snow, God blesses that union so that they’ll be together forever.”  Olympia rolled her eyes. Not missed by David.“I take it you don’t believe it,” he said.“Olympia is my last single girl,” Sharon said. “So, we’re taking any edge we can.”Olympia laughed. She did believe it—mostly—but didn’t want him to ridicule her. “I’m in no hurry to be married.”“I know, dear, I know,” her mother said, patting Olympia’s hand. “It’s just wise to keep your options open.”“Your other daughters were married this way?” David asked.“God blessed two that way, yes; Aliza and Brinna.” “What about the other”—he glanced at his notes— “Helena.”“We’re waiting to see how it turns out.” Her mother waited a beat before laughing. “So, where is your pursuit taking you this year?” David asked.“Snow’s predicted in Duluth, Minnesota, so that’s where we’ll be,”As they talked about where they would be staying, how long, etc., Olympia got up and made the hot chocolate. She was trying to take it in stride, after all, this was something special the family did every year, but now it didn’t feel right. She’d agreed to go to make her mom happy, but it wouldn’t be the same with none of her sisters participating. If she didn’t find a husband this year, there would be no one to deflect the attention. And now, having this stranger turn her family’s harmless fun into a blatant joke was irritating. She set a steaming mug in front of him and then took her seat.“Thanks,” David said. “So, you fly out a few days before Christmas. Do you scope out the prospects, or just wing it and let destiny have its way?”Unsure if he was trying to insult them, Olympia offered what she hoped would pass for a genuine chuckle. “It wouldn’t be much of a custom if it was based on searching out a husband ourselves, would it? What would be the point of going when we could do that at church, or the mall?”David flipped a page in his pad and turned to Olympia directly. “Speaking of faith, would you say God is behind your mission to find a husband?”His words forced her back in her seat. “I’m not on a mission. This isn’t a belief; it’s a legend, a game.”He smiled. “But, you all take it seriously enough to travel to Minnesota, or wherever the snow is forecast.”She didn’t like the turn this was taking and she had a feeling her expression said so. David’s smile disappeared.“It’s a four hour drive, not a big deal,” she snapped.“Three, the way you drive,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Mercy.”Olympia ignored her. She felt herself getting upset but couldn’t stop it. “Some families spend Christmas in Tahiti, or South America, would you call that a religious quest?” David tapped his pencil on the top of the pad. “Sorry, I’m just trying to—”“I know what you’re trying! To make my family look like a bunch of fools. Why don’t you come back on New Year’s when Ma dances naked around the mailbox so the fairies will bring her grandchildren!” She pushed back her chair and stormed from the kitchen.Her mother called after her, but Olympia kept going, straight up to her room, where she resisted the urge to slam the door from its hinges. 
Purchase:AMAZON
PBG

Pelican Book Group Titles: The Mayweather Christmas Quest (Dana Pratola)

About The Mayweather Christmas Quest:
Of all the things to find in the snow… A husband?The forecast is for snow—but she's dreaming of more than a white Christmas. Olympia Mayweather is sure there's only one way to find a husband - through a family tradition that says she must kiss the man of her dreams in a Christmas snow. When a reporter comes to interview her for the local paper, she's afraid he's going to make a mockery of her, ruining her chance for a Christmas love. David Santina isn't sure a magical kiss will make Olympia a bride. But spending time with the charming woman and getting to know her just might make David believe in fairy tales. He'll protect her from a tabloid story, but who is going to keep him from completing The Mayweather Christmas Quest?
About Dana Pratola:
God gave me a passion to write Christian Romance. These books don’t contain explicit sex scenes, but my characters have real desires, struggles and choices to make. A lot of the time they make the wrong ones. No subject is prohibited, but good always triumphs and God is glorified.In my personal life, He has also blessed me with a wonderful husband and three dynamic children, all of whom are destined to make wide, colorful splashes in this world. We share our New Jersey home with three dogs. I have no hobbies to speak of, unless you include writing. I don’t.
Excerpt:
Olympia sneered. It was hard to tell if this guy was sincere. He seemed to be, but reporters would do what was necessary to get a story, right? David twisted, reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small note pad and pen. “If you don’t mind…” he said, raising the items for their inspection. “How long has this tradition been a part of your family?”“Oh, who knows,” Mom said. “It’s been going around at least as long as my great, great grandparents. Who knows before then? I suppose you could research it.”“That’s what he’s doing now, Mom.” David smiled at her, then back at her mother. “And what specifically does this tradition entail? Are there certain guidelines, superstitions…?”“Are you asking if we go through a blood ritual?” Olympia asked.“Olympia, be nice,” her mother scolded. “It’s pretty straightforward,” she told David. “A Mayweather girl has to be somewhere where it’s snowing on Christmas Day, and if she meets a man under a Christmas snow, God blesses that union so that they’ll be together forever.”  Olympia rolled her eyes. Not missed by David.“I take it you don’t believe it,” he said.“Olympia is my last single girl,” Sharon said. “So, we’re taking any edge we can.”Olympia laughed. She did believe it—mostly—but didn’t want him to ridicule her. “I’m in no hurry to be married.”“I know, dear, I know,” her mother said, patting Olympia’s hand. “It’s just wise to keep your options open.”“Your other daughters were married this way?” David asked.“God blessed two that way, yes; Aliza and Brinna.” “What about the other”—he glanced at his notes— “Helena.”“We’re waiting to see how it turns out.” Her mother waited a beat before laughing. “So, where is your pursuit taking you this year?” David asked.“Snow’s predicted in Duluth, Minnesota, so that’s where we’ll be,”As they talked about where they would be staying, how long, etc., Olympia got up and made the hot chocolate. She was trying to take it in stride, after all, this was something special the family did every year, but now it didn’t feel right. She’d agreed to go to make her mom happy, but it wouldn’t be the same with none of her sisters participating. If she didn’t find a husband this year, there would be no one to deflect the attention. And now, having this stranger turn her family’s harmless fun into a blatant joke was irritating. She set a steaming mug in front of him and then took her seat.“Thanks,” David said. “So, you fly out a few days before Christmas. Do you scope out the prospects, or just wing it and let destiny have its way?”Unsure if he was trying to insult them, Olympia offered what she hoped would pass for a genuine chuckle. “It wouldn’t be much of a custom if it was based on searching out a husband ourselves, would it? What would be the point of going when we could do that at church, or the mall?”David flipped a page in his pad and turned to Olympia directly. “Speaking of faith, would you say God is behind your mission to find a husband?”His words forced her back in her seat. “I’m not on a mission. This isn’t a belief; it’s a legend, a game.”He smiled. “But, you all take it seriously enough to travel to Minnesota, or wherever the snow is forecast.”She didn’t like the turn this was taking and she had a feeling her expression said so. David’s smile disappeared.“It’s a four hour drive, not a big deal,” she snapped.“Three, the way you drive,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Mercy.”Olympia ignored her. She felt herself getting upset but couldn’t stop it. “Some families spend Christmas in Tahiti, or South America, would you call that a religious quest?” David tapped his pencil on the top of the pad. “Sorry, I’m just trying to—”“I know what you’re trying! To make my family look like a bunch of fools. Why don’t you come back on New Year’s when Ma dances naked around the mailbox so the fairies will bring her grandchildren!” She pushed back her chair and stormed from the kitchen.Her mother called after her, but Olympia kept going, straight up to her room, where she resisted the urge to slam the door from its hinges. 
Purchase:AMAZON
PBG

PBG Christmas Titles: The Volk Advent (Kristen Joy Wilks)

About The Volk AdventAn orphaned Siberian teen loses her job and home on Christmas Eve. Left on the streets to freeze, Faina flees to an abandoned castle for shelter. At the castle, she discovers the animal-torn body of a local recluse. No wonder Eurasian wolves are not recommended for the first-time pet owner. Can a girl with no past, preserve her future from accusations of murderer and a pack of escaped wolves?
Excerpt:The Wolves and Ms. Melora are RestlessCheery Christmas songs blared through the orphanage, clashing with the background noise of hurried cleaning and howling wolves. The Christmas music I was used to. The orphanage had a total of five American Christmas CD’s that Ms. Melora, our orphanage director, had played constantly since they arrived free with a magazine subscription eight years ago. Those CD’s had been here as long as I had, and they sounded just as twitchy and nervous.The cleaning, I was also familiar with. When I, Faina Smith, turned eighteen last month, I should have left the orphanage and struck out into the fierce Siberian countryside on my own. I know, Smith? But one takes whatever name they give you, when one shows up as a ten-year-old amnesiac. Anyway, despite my age, Ms. Melora was loath to hire another girl to do my work when she could get my toil for free.The incessant howling of wolves…I’m afraid I was not as accustomed to that.Oh, sure, we had wolves. Deep in the misty forest, along remote stretches of the dark Lena river, behind the stone pinnacles that slashed the thick forested ridges. Siberia was deep within wolf territory. Most of the time the creatures stayed where they belonged. But these wolves were different. They lived in a vast, crumbling castle that crouched like a shadow on the edge of town. A bit of intermittent howling was normal, but something was different tonight.What? A castle in Siberia seems unlikely? Of course it is. Who in their right mind would build a castle in the far north? But that is the question, isn’t it? Was Kirill Volkov in his right mind? It’s hard to say. The man did own wolves, after all. Perhaps he felt he must live up to his name. Volk meant wolf in Russian. Whatever had caused his extreme fascination with the
origins of their family name, Kirill Volkov hadn’t built the castle. It wasn’t built here at all, only moved, and it was his father who’d moved it.I took a cloth and wiped down the face of every child in the room. They were none too happy with me, but cleanliness was vital today, and so I persisted. After struggling to wipe the breakfast off eight squirmy babies, I paused in my work, drawn by the deep throaty song of the wolves.I peeked out the frost-streaked window. It was late afternoon on January sixth, Christmas Eve. The village was lit with a fading, dusky light. A bitter wind kicked up a few small tornados in the snow, blowing them through the market. Wood smoke curled out of every chimney as each village family prepared the meatless feast that would break their Christmas Eve fast. When the first star appeared on the horizon, the birth of Christ would be celebrated with sweet smelling hay scattered on the floor, glowing white candles on the table, and twelve traditional dishes, representing the twelve apostles.The Volkovs’ castle seemed separate from all of this. It rose out of the gloom of the forest, not quite in town but not far enough away to be forgotten. It clashed with the quiet ambiance of the small village of Zamok Drakona.The name meant Dragon’s Castle or more precisely “The Lock of the Dragon.” I’m sure the village had a different name once. But when Kirill Volkov’s father was inexplicably gifted a gargantuan castle from the Ukraine and had the whole thing shipped to Siberia block by block, what else could they call the place? He had a wall of river rock built around his new home, but apparently ran out of resources at that point. No further improvements were made after that.The castle sat, long and gray and dark, at the edge of town. Three stories of rain-streaked stone topped by a black slate roof. Row after row of leaded glass windows glared out into the Siberian gloom. Only one or two of them ever showed a glimmer of light. It had remained exactly the same for the past eighty years.Eventually, the first old eccentric had died, leaving the monstrosity to his equally eccentric son. Our new hermit did little to improve the place, but he did bring in some pets. Kirill Volkov hired some men from the village to build an immense cage that stretched across the castle grounds. Then he acquired his very own pack of Eurasian wolves. These critters were well cared for and large. In the wild, Eurasian wolves top the scales at about 100 pounds, although there were always exceptions. I’d heard whispers that some of Volkov’s pets weighed in at the upper limit for their species, 160 to 170lbs. Eurasian wolves are definitely not recommended for the first time pet owner. But Volkov had gotten away with it so far.Why I used phrases like “first-time pet owner” and thought in pounds and inches rather than kilos and centimeters, I had no idea. My vocabulary was a personal peculiarity. Words and phrases I’d never heard spoken aloud in Russian filled up my mind. Perhaps the smack to the head that had taken my memory was at fault. But regardless of my mental glitches, the wolves were usually much less vocal. Had old Kirill Volkov left his nephew to feed them again?That had not gone well. Vladim Volkov hadn’t fed them at all. He’d tried the first night, but wolves demand strength and according to rumor, fear had wafted off that young man like stink off a week-old fish. After the first bite, he left them to starve. Their low angry howls had surely kept him awake every night until his uncle returned.Kirill Volkov hadn’t left the castle since, as far as I knew. He would never forget to feed them. I mean how could he? They were incredibly loud. And wasn’t his niece at the castle right now, decorating for her big Christmas gala? Surely even a city girl would notice that something was up with her uncle’s menagerie.The wolves continued to howl. The American Christmas music continued to blare. I yanked my attention away from the window and jogged to the older babies’ room. Ms. Melora had a guest coming, and she would be around to inspect soon.The children in the next room were toddlers. None of the little ones wore diapers. Instead they cruised back and forth in a large communal pen, wide-eyed in their threadbare nightshirts and silent. But something extraordinary happened when I bustled into the room. Those serious little faces broke into grins and a few brave souls even clapped and reached for me. This never would have happened my first year here, but I held a dark secret close to my heart. I had defied Ms. Melora and my risk was bearing fruit.I rocked the babies.
About the Author: Kristen Joy Wilks lives in the beautiful Cascade Mountains with her camp director husband, three fierce sons, and a large and slobbery Newfoundland dog. She has blow-dried a chicken, fought epic Nerf battles instead of washing dishes, and discovered a stealthily smuggled gardener snake in the bubble bath with her sons. Her stories and articles have appeared in Nature Friend, Clubhouse, Thriving Family, Splickety, and Havok Magazines. She writes funny romances for Pelican Book Group, including Copenhagen Cozenage, The Volk Advent, and Athens Ambuscade. Kristen writes about the humor and Grace that can be found amidst the detritus of life and can be found at www.kristenjoywilks.com.
Purchase:Amazon            Barnes & NoblePelican Book Group      Kobo

PBG Christmas Titles: Radio Wave Romance (Katie Clark) and The First Noelle (Delia Latham)

Can an on-air feud turn into an off-air romance?
Hit radio show host Annalise Waters is challenged on-air when one of her listeners, social studies teacher Christopher Sanders, accuses her of being cold-hearted toward the needs of the local children’s hospital. Afraid of public backlash, the station arranges a fundraiser for the hospital, with Annalise at the head. But it’s a fundraiser that drags up painful memories from Annalise’s past.

Christopher hadn’t intended to be hustled into a fundraiser—he’d only wanted to make a point. But as he spends more time with Annalise, and realizes his mistaken judgment, he can’t deny the growing feelings for this woman who is anything but cold-hearted. Will she ever forgive his on-air accusations and see the depth of his true feelings?

Kindle Nook Mobi/ePub


About the Author:
KATIE CLARK started reading fantastical stories in grade school and her love for books never died. Today she reads in all genres; her only requirement is an awesome story! She writes inspirational romance for adults as well as young adult speculative fiction, including her YA supernatural novel, Shadowed Eden, and The Enslaved Series. You can connect with her at her website, on Facebook, or on Twitter. 






                                        About The First Noelle

Noelle Joy stopped celebrating Christmas ten years ago, when Trevor Holden skipped out on their long-planned Christmas Eve wedding. He destroyed her trust in men, crushed her belief in God, and left her cynical about love. Gone is the bright, cheery spirit of the girl she thinks of now as “the first Noelle.” Stronger and savvier, the new Noelle would never be found waiting at the altar for a groom who didn’t show.When a famous-but-mysterious architect commissions her to decorate his mansion for a holiday event, Noelle finally returns to her hometown. Even as she finds an unexpected peace in facing ghosts from the past, her fiercely private client disturbs her. Michael Holliday is kind and considerate, but far too handsome…and hauntingly familiar.Holliday didn’t choose Noelle to make his home a Christmas wonderland by accident. She’s the only one who can do the job he has in mind—and once she’s in his mansion, he never wants to let her go. But he’s hiding a secret that could destroy any chance of a relationship with the beautiful decorator.
A false persona. A shattering secret. Can love break down these insurmountable walls?
Kindle ePub/Mobi Nook

Excerpt:
She pulled to a stop at a pair of imposing gates fronted by a guard shack. To her surprise, her heart pounded with expectation. Her mind wouldn’t be quiet either, tossing out a horde of unanswered questions.Was Holliday an older man, or was he young for his accomplishments? Was he handsome? Maybe he was hideous, like the fairy tale beast, and that’s why he maintained such a fiercely private existence. Was he kind, as seemed to be indicated by the media-inspired title? Or was that all hype? Perhaps the whole Phantom Philanthropist thing was a ruse to hide his real personality, which might be anything from a mouse to a monster.A man’s voice crackled across the air. “Identification, please.”Holliday should be expecting her. Why all the cloak-and-dagger? Well, his house, his rules. She dug out her driver’s license and the guard took it, his alert gaze darting back and forth, side to side, as if expecting an attack.Noelle bit back a giggle when he broke from his fastidious survey of the surrounding countryside to peruse her license, seemingly line by line. What did he expect to find there?At last, he returned her ID and gave a single, terse nod. “When I open the gates, follow the drive and park by the front steps. A valet will take your car.”Sure enough, a uniformed valet met her at the base of a series of steps leading to massive oak doors that would have served well in any medieval castle. The man actually smiled as he took her keys. Having passed the intense scrutiny of the portly guard, it seemed she’d earned a bit more friendliness.“Mr. Holliday will meet you at the door, Miss Joy.”Potted plants lined each side of the wide steps— gorgeous bursts of azalea, bonsai-shaped miniature wisteria, hoya, plumeria, fuchsia, and a number of plants Noelle didn’t recognize and was almost certain shouldn’t survive the cold of the Northern California mountains. Holliday must have a sizeable greenhouse.The door opened as she reached the top step. A man stepped outside but seemed reluctant to venture beyond the shade of the overhang. He towered well over Noelle’s five feet, nine inches. Muscles strained at the cloth of his sleeves and across his chest.“Good afternoon, Miss Joy.”Something caught in Noelle’s heart, and she swallowed repeatedly. Had she heard that voice before? Why did it make her want to cry…or maybe scream and throw rocks through the beautiful stained glass windows that fronted the huge estate?She allowed her gaze to travel beyond the broad chest to a firm, square chin, and upward. Nicely shaped lips curved into a smile that seemed a little shaky around the edges and revealed perfect white teeth. A straight nose, not too long, or too short. High cheekbones. For some reason, she avoided his eyes, instead moving on to take in slightly longish, golden-brown hair with a smidgen of gray at the temples.“Miss Joy?” A hint of concern tinged the oddly familiar voice.Noelle swallowed again and forced her cowardly gaze to his, only to be caught in a dizzying vortex of confusion and familiarity. I know this man. I’ve met him before. Where? She stood up straighter, hiked her chin, and mentally donned the ice cloak that had stood her in good stead over the course of her career. Holliday wasn’t the only one with a media-dubbed moniker. She had one of her own, and the Ice Princess of Design wouldn’t be put off by a furrowed brow and a tense expression. “Mr. Holliday. I’d like to get started right away, if you don’t mind.”Forced to meet his gaze—his eyes were hazel, but somehow she’d known they would be—she saw a flicker of something that made her breath a little shallow. She was way off her game. Was it because those eyes held a strange familiarity?“Of course. Come in, please.”He indicated she should precede him into the house…no, the mansion. “House” didn’t even begin to describe the residence. Noelle had seen a great number of multi-million-dollar homes in her line of work but nothing that compared to the one in which she now stood.“This is…quite lovely.” She was careful to maintain the chill in her tone. “Professional distance at all times” was the mantra by which she’d lived for the past decade. It had served her well. No need to change it now, just because something about Michael Holliday made her skin tingle and sky-rocketed her heartbeat. “If anything needs improvement, it’s well hidden.”His low laughter sent something almost unbearably electric skittering up her spine. “It isn’t improvement I’m looking for, Miss Joy. It’s a mood, a certain look…an ambiance, if you will. And since my event will be held on Christmas Eve, it must be themed very specifically around that holiday.”She nodded, despite the rock of dread that landed in her stomach with a thump. Up until now, the only Christmas event she’d ever created had been her doomed wedding a decade earlier. After that, she never again celebrated the holiday she’d once loved most. She refused to have a tree in her home and never sent a Merry Christmas card to a single soul. Stockings, mistletoe, and hot apple cider—things she’d once loved—were now just unavoidable traditions she muddled through every year while counting down the hours until the bells stopped jingling, the carolers’ songs died away, and her favorite radio station started playing real music again.Joy Designs absolutely never, ever, ever accepted a design job with a Christmas theme. She opened her mouth to tell Michael exactly that but remembered just in time that she’d already signed the contract, without checking into the specifics of what Holliday needed or for what occasion. She uttered a pathetic inner moan. Christmas. She’d signed a legal contract saying she and her team would create a holiday environment somewhere in this castle-sized home.Noelle steeled her spine and pasted on a smile she was certain didn’t fool the handsome architect for even a split second. Well, the contract had not included a clause that said her smiles had to be genuine. Then again, she hadn’t realized it mentioned anything about a Christmas event either, because she barely noticed anything other than Holliday’s name. She knew better than that. Now she had no choice but to design a winter wonderland in this massive mansion.
Bah Humbug.

Author bio:
Writing Heaven’s touch into earthly tales, Delia Latham puts her characters through the fire of earthly trials to bring them out victorious by the hand of God, His heavenly messengers, and good, old-fashioned love. You’ll always find a touch of the divine in this author’s sweet tales of romance.Delia lives in East Texas with her husband Johnny. She’s a Christian wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, and author of inspirational romance…with a finger or two immersed in the design pool, where she creates beautiful marketing material for other authors. Delia treasures her role as child of the King and heir to the throne of God. She’s got a “thing” for Dr. Pepper and loves hearing from readers.Contact this author at any of the following locations: Website Amazon Author Page Twitter

PBG Christmas Titles: Once Upon a Christmas (Clare Revell)

About Once upon a Christmas:
 As settlement for her father’s debts, Caitlyn Hosier is forced into a marriage with the village recluse—a man no one has seen all the years he's lived in the manor house. A man surrounded by rumours. A man with a vicious temper. A man said to be a monster. A man who hates Christmas.Hayden Shade hides his scars behind a mask, but the past never ceases to haunt him. A new life and a new start seem too much to hope for. Does he even deserve one? Surely not with a woman so wholly beautiful as Caitlyn. He longs to build a life-long relationship, but he daren’t allow her to see the real him until he knows for sure she loves him.Desperate to find happiness with the man she's fated to marry, Caitlyn determines to uncover the real Hayden Shade. There must be something good behind the mask. But what if there's nothing more to him than the monster she could never love?

Excerpt:Carols played in the background. Caitlyn Hosier grinned at best friend Meredith Mantle. “Who’d have thought this time last year we were preparing for the Paradise Christmas Ball, and here you are married.” She paused. “And here I am, not. And neither of us are going to the ball, either.”“It’s a shame things didn’t work out with Ty.” Meredith hung another ornament on the tree. “We’d have been related.”Caitlyn shook her head. “Ty’s a nice enough bloke, but we have nothing in common. And I’m beginning to lose hope in David as well. He still hasn’t called since that one date he took me on. I know he’s far older than me, but age is simply a number, right?”The door opened and her father and step-mother came in. Father cleared his throat, his face serious and pale. “Caitlyn, I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”Meredith stood. “I should be getting back. I promised Grannie I’d call in on my way home. She’s coping OK on her own, but she’s finding it hard with the anniversary coming up.”Caitlyn walked Meredith to the door. “I’ll call later this evening. Bye.” She closed the door and headed back into the lounge. “So what’s wrong?”Her father took a deep breath. “I got called in to see my boss. He made me an offer for your hand in marriage.”Caitlyn’s stomach knotted and threated to eject her lunch over her feet. She pushed her hands through her hair. She must have heard wrong. “He wants to what?” she managed, reaching out a hand to turn off the music, the carols incongruous now.Her father’s agonized gaze hit the floor, as if couldn’t quite bear to look at her. He seemed as if he’d aged fifty years since he’d left home a few hours ago. “He wants to marry you.”“He doesn’t know the first thing about me. Why would he want to do that?”“Because I messed up. I did something I shouldn’t have and this is the only way he won’t press charges.”Caitlyn swallowed hard. “Press charges?”“I broke the law. I’d go to prison for a long time, possibly the rest of my life.”Shock turned to horror. “So you traded me for your freedom?”Her father shook his head. “No. I’d never do that to you. This is your choice and yours alone. He granted me that much.”
Caitlyn turned to her step-mother. She didn’t really remember her birth mother, only a faint recollection of perfume. Naomi had never wanted to replace Mum, opting instead for the term Auntie. “Auntie Naomi…”“I’ve spoken to Naomi,” Father interrupted. “She’s in agreement with me.”She turned away, her eyes burning. Marriage was something she’d always dreamed of, but not to her father’s mysterious boss, who had a reputation for being a hard liner. Caitlyn’s dreams lay with David, a local man from the same church. He’d told her he worked in an animal shelter, which she’d found adorable. They’d been on one date and got on pretty well. But this? This would end all that. Now her dreams lay shattered at the foot of the half-decorated Christmas tree. Scattered like the box of baubles she’d dropped, sparking in the light, yet out of reach.“How…how long have I got to think about it?” she whispered.“I have to let him know by three.”She gasped as she glanced at her watch. “That’s only an hour away.”Her father hurried over to her and gripped her hands. “I’m so sorry. If there was a way around this, some other way I could make amends, I’d do it, but there isn’t.” His gaze held hers. “If you can’t do this, if you don’t want to, then don’t worry. I’ll face up to what I’ve done and accept the consequences.”Caitlyn pulled her hands away. “I need time to think. I’ll be in my room.” She dashed from the room, before she really did cry. She shut the bedroom door and leaned against it. “Oh, Lord, what do I do?” she whispered. “I can’t let Father go to prison, but to marry someone I don’t know? Someone no one has ever seen or really knows? Someone with a reputation like Mr. Shade has? Even the name makes him seem dark.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she paced to the window. “I wanted a future with David. He’s tall, charming, handsome, and he likes me. He took me to the most expensive restaurant in town, and then kissed me on the doorstep when he dropped me home. OK, bells and whistles didn’t go off and the stars didn’t explode, but for a first kiss I wasn’t expecting that.”Caitlyn sighed, studying the view of her garden. “I have to do this. Please promise me I’m not doing this alone. I have no idea if this Mr. Shade is a Christian or not. So I may well end up unevenly yoked. If I can ask one favour, Lord, please let it be a church wedding. Work this horrid situation for good.”Her gaze fell on the verse-of-the-day calendar on her desk. The one for today was Joshua 1:9. “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”“Thank you, Lord. OK, let’s do this.” She rubbed her hands over her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Should she take everything? Would she be allowed home to get things she forgot? What did she do now?Her hand rested on the locket her birth mother had left for her, along with a note saying ‘sorry’. The note had long since been discarded, but the necklace she’d kept. Not that it was ever worn—it didn’t really go with the jeans and baggy sweaters she preferred—but she’d take it with her. Decision made, there was no time to waste on questions she couldn’t answer.Father paced the living room floor. He stopped mid-stride as Caitlyn entered the room. “What did you decide?”“I’ll do it. I’ll marry Mr. Shade.”
Amazon UK Amazon US Pelican
About the Author:
Clare is a British author. She lives in a small town just outside Reading, England with her husband, whom she married in 1992, their three children, and unfriendly mini-panther, aka Tilly the black cat. They have recently been joined by Hedwig and Sirius the guinea pigs. Clare is half English and half Welsh, which makes watching rugby interesting at times as it doesn’t matter who wins.Writing from an early childhood and encouraged by her teachers, she graduated from rewriting fairy stories through fan fiction to using her own original characters and enjoys writing an eclectic mix of romance, crime fiction and children's stories. When she's not writing, she can be found reading, crocheting or doing the many piles of laundry the occupants of her house manage to make.Her books are based in the UK, with a couple of exceptions, thus, although the spelling may be American in some of them, the books contain British language and terminology and the more recent ones are written in UK English. The first draft of every novel is hand written.She has been a Christian for more than half her life. She goes to Carey Baptist where she is one of four registrars.
Connect with Clare:
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Pelican Book Group Christmas Titles

It's always such a pleasure to share the great Christmas stories from my publisher, Pelican Book Group. Every year, they publish wonderful Christmas tales by a variety of PBG authors...including me!

Starting tomorrow, and for the next couple of weeks, I'll be highlighting several PBG Christmas books -- some from this year's Extravaganza, and some from previous years. I hope you all enjoy them as much as we enjoy writing them. 

Guest Author: Carole Brown

I'm Not Your Average SpyCarole Brown
You wouldn't think romance would play a part in being a spy, but sometimes it does. Wives, girlfriends, and new friends that tie into a spy's life—all of these relationships allow romance to blossom...and increase the danger.When you play with danger, you'd better have a backbone of steel, a fortitude that gets you through the best and worst of situations. Sometimes it can be routine actions, but at other times, danger is present. You're living in serious conditions, playing at being someone you're not, loving the thought that you're living on the edge and beating the chances. Knowledge that you steal, that you know, when no one else does is your job description. Knowledge that you can share...or hide. Information that most times is important and for which is highly prized with monetary and other valuable items as rewards.Secrets are sought after and then shared with the person desiring to know them. In the case of countries and agencies, it's important NOT to share them. In the case of spies, it's important to find them and share.Living overseas and/or on home soil can be advantageous and profitable. It's alluring to many spies to live in beautiful countries and homes, enjoy social privileges, and to have the best when, if left in their home countries, life might never reach that plateau of pleasure.Of course, being a spy includes the possibility of getting caught. Most times a prison sentence is issued, and at times, in some countries, deathis used as a manner of punishment.From Biblical Times until day's world, countries and groups have had their spies. Some on home soil and some serving overseas. Some spies are well known and some of whom may never be known. Many are successful for years, passing on information and secrets, receiving vast sums of money while others receive little or no pay. But the price if caught?     Disgrace     Prison     Death, at times
A few real-life, famous spies:
Biblical Spy:         In the book of Joshua, when Joshua sent two men to Jericho to spy out the land, they went to Rahab's house. She hid them on the rooftop among stalks of flax, and they escaped with both information and their lives.U.S. Spies:During WWII Martin Scofield Quigley, Jr., used his publishing position as a cover to gather intelligence in Ireland where many influential people favored the Axis, and in Italy on behalf of the US Office of Strategic Services. Claire Maybelle Snyder (December 2, 1907 – May 22, 1960), also known as Clara Fuentes, Clara Phillips, Dorathy Fuentes as well as High Pockets, was an American spy, entertainer, club owner, and author most noted for her exploits in the Japanese-occupied Philippines.
Foreign Spies who worked on American Soil:Aldrich Ames:obtained work with the CIA and specialized in Russian Intelligence. It was estimated he received $2.5 million from Russia and was sentenced in the U.S. with life in prison.David Boone: Served in the U.S. army as a Signals Intelligence Analyst. Offered to spy for Russia and received $20,000 a year. Caught, he was sentenced to 24 years in prison.
In my WWII Spies series, I focus on spies serving the U.S. The first book, With Music in Their Hearts, has Tyrell Walker, enlisted as an unknown, civilian spy who's been asked to find the spy serving Germany and living in Cincinnati. Along with danger and romance, Tyrell finds that secrets and living on the edge is just as much a part of his current lifestyle as being a minister. In the second book (coming this month) A Flute in the Willows, Jerry Patterson, is recruited to head to Germany. There he not only is able to fulfill the request from his government, but comes in contact with danger and an injury that almost takes his life. Only God and his wife are able to draw him back to himself after he returns to America.
Writing about spies opened my eyes to the extreme conditions and dangers that are a part of the lives of these—both bad and good—men and women. My hat's off to the good ones who use their highly developed senses and intelligences for the good of our country!
About With Music in Their Hearts:
Angry at being rejected for military service, Minister Tyrell Walker accepts the call to serve as a civilian spy within his own country. Across the river from Cincinnati, Ohio, a spy working for a foreign country is stealing secret plans for newly developed ammunition to be used in the war. According to his FBI cousin, this spy favors pink stationery giving strong indications that a woman is involved. He’s instructed to obtain a room in the Rayner Boarding House run by the lovely, spunky red-haired Emma Jaine Rayner. Sparks of jealousy and love fly between them immediately even as they battle suspicions that one or the other is not on the up and up. While Tyrell searches for the murdering spy who reaches even into the boarding home, Emma Jaine struggles with an annoying renter, a worried father (who could be involved in this spy thing), and two younger sisters who are very different but just as strong willed as she is.As Tyrell works to keep his double life a secret and locate the traitor, he refuses to believe that Emma Jaine could be involved even when he sees a red-haired woman in the arms of another man. Could the handsome and svelte banker who’s also determined to win Emma Jaine’s hand for marriage, be the dangerous man he’s looking for? Is the trouble-making renter who hassles Emma Jaine serving as a flunky? Worse, is Papa Rayner so worried about his finances and keeping his girls in the style they’re used to, that he’ll stoop to espionage?Will their love survive the danger and personal issues that arise to hinder the path of true love? Purchase on Amazon
About Carole Brown:
Besides being a member and active participant of many writing groups, Carole Brown enjoys mentoring beginning writers. She loves to weave suspense and tough topics into her books, along with a touch of romance and whimsy, and is always on the lookout for outstanding titles and catchy ideas. She and her husband reside in SE Ohio but have ministered and counseled nationally and internationally. Together, they enjoy their grandsons, traveling, gardening, good food, the simple life, and did she mention their grandsons?
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