Dani Collins's Blog, page 34

A Year Of Love - 99¢

A homecoming reunion, a mistletoe kiss, a Valentine’s Day bachelor auction, and a casual romance during wedding season: Love comes to Marietta, Montana, in this delightful box set of four heartwarming small-town romances!

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Hi, friends!

I realize I've been off-grid a lot. You'll see my last post was a short vacation in Winnipeg. Since then I've genuinely had my nose to the grindstone. I received and finished some revisions for a Harlequin Presents that will come out middle of next year titled Consequence Of His Revenge. I've also been working (and working and working) on a new series for Montana Born.

More on that soon. Today I wanted to tell you that you can get the first four in my Love In Montana series for 99¢. This bundle contains exclusive content not available in the original books, so you'll want to grab it even if you already have the books.

If you haven't heard of this series, here's what you get:

For every love, there is a season...

Spend a year in Marietta, Montana with ranchers, teachers, ballplayers and even a drifter ready for roots, all discovering their soul mate at a different time of year.

Hometown Hero

Skye Wolcott didn’t have the confidence to so much as smile at Chase Goodwin in high school. Then Chase left Marietta for a career in the big leagues but now he's back to help his kid brother. It’s a second chance for both of them, but can Skye convince Chase that Homecoming is more than a game and he’s back where he belongs?

Blame The Mistletoe

When Skye and Chase host a Christmas cocktail party, Liz Flowers bumps into her former brother-in-law, Blake Canon. They haven’t seen each other for fifteen years, they’re both divorced and alone for the holidays… A kiss under the mistletoe starts a romance, but when family secrets are revealed and their children arrive home early, will they be able to keep the season bright?

The Bachelor’s Baby

Meg Canon is in town to clean out her old bedroom for big brother Blake’s growing family. She doesn’t mean to embroil his new neighbor, Linc Brady, in a Valentine’s Day Bachelor Auction—or to win him! Linc can’t forget his one night with Meg, but he’s a loner by choice. When she tells him she’s pregnant, they both wonder if they can make a home here, together, in Marietta.

His Blushing Bride

It’s wedding season in Marietta, but Piper Tierney is wrapping up the school year, feeling overlooked. Sebastian Bloom wants to reassure himself his sister Liz isn’t rushing fences, marrying a local rancher. He’s definitely not looking for a bride, but Piper is cute, funny, and wants to move on from her ex. They agree to a no strings affair, but will they wind up tying the knot?

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All of my books can be read as stand-alones, but they are linked with common characters so you might also want to check out:

Scorch, Firefighters of Montana

His Christmas Miracle

I call Scorch book number 5 1/2. It takes place in Glacier Creek, not Marietta, but Piper and Bastian from His Blushing Bride come for a visit.

Then we go back to Marietta for His Christmas Miracle. Nicki and Quincy are new to town, but Liz befriends them and soon it's like they were all born there.

I'm heading back to my writing cave. I hope you have a wonderful summer. Enjoy your visit to Marietta!

Dani

Proof Of Life

I've skipped a couple of weekend blogs due to family commitments and over-all summer busy-ness. If you've been following my newsletter, you know what I've been up to, but the latest has been a visit to my sister and her husband in Winnipeg. Here's a quick recap:

Our first morning was Canada's 150 celebration. We took part in the human flag event at Portage and Main. Watch the time-lapse video here.

The rest of the day we were in and out, checking out markets and street fairs and finally the fireworks. In between it all, we took her dog to the park for some frisbee.

FUN FACT: I'm writing Murphy into my WIP, which will be a series so I expect he'll be a recurring character.

Check him out chasing a frisbee here.

Sunday was a bucket list item for me: a spa. We accidentally stayed most of the day. It was wonderful.

Monday we caught up with some of my husband's relatives, since my son is with me and he's never been here to meet them all. We had ice cream at the Forks - can't beat that, I must say!

Today we toured the Royal Canadian Mint, where coins from over 70 countries are made. It was really interesting. And then we popped into the Picasso exhibition because, why not? I wouldn't get many opportunities for something like that and it was really interesting.

I leave tomorrow. It's been a whirlwind, yet very relaxing. Barbecue for dinner and movies in the evening, walking the dog and oh! A terrifying rainstorm for about twenty minutes. Aside from that downpour, the weather had been wonderful. Just a fabulous trip all around.

If you don't hear from me Saturday, I'm working. But check out my newsletter from July 4th. Turns out that loads of deals and sales came up to keep you in books through the summer.

I hope you've been able to have some off-grid time lately, or are looking forward to some down time very soon. I highly recommend it.

Take care,

Dani

In My Writing Cave

I've been running around a lot lately. We went to Yellowstone (view photos here), spent a weekend in Vancouver to see our daughter (below) and pick up our son (he's elusive.)

Then my sister came to town and had a bunch of family birthdays, including our son's. Yep, no photo. So elusive.

Yesterday I was out of town with my mom, visiting my aunt. Sorry, no opportunities for landscape photos, which is a shame because she lives in wine and orchard country. With all the rain, everything is so green and so, so beautiful. Cherries were coming on strong! Yum!

Actually, I did take a few photos of my aunt. She's in treatment and the 'wig lady' was fitting her. Shout out to Laurie and Karen and all the people who help those in treatment feel like themselves again. My aunt wasn't feeling one hundred percent, but we had a fun day playing make-over which felt really good.

She eventually picked out one that looked a lot like her regular hair, but also one that was a gorgeous silver. You'll just have to take my word for it that she looked fabulous!

Our daughter is coming to visit in a couple of weeks, and I've just booked to visit my sister at the end of the month, in Winnipeg. Watch all my social media for photos there. I'll be taking millions. #Canada150

All of this to say, I hope to have at least a first draft finished before I leave. If you don't see much of me online, that's why. I'm heading into the writing cave.

Fun Fact: this is actually my daughter going into this cave at VanDusen Gardens. I wasn't smart enough to get a photo of myself doing this when we were there. Next time...

Have a great weekend,

Dani

Xenakis's Convenient Bride - Available Now!

My Secret Billionaire is finally here!

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I've been traveling (Yellowstone!) and caught up with family stuff (son home for summer, family birthdays). I'm also on a strict diet of two thousand words a day, so I actually missed posting this yesterday, which was my official launch day.

I did manage to get my newsletter off. You can read it here. It has the link to my photos from our trip and some other insider news. I hope you'll consider joining. If you do, you'll auto-magically receive a link to download Cruel Summer as a welcome gift. Join here.

And I really hope you consider getting Xenakis's Convenient Bride. I'm so thrilled with the reviews so far!

"This is one of those books you read in one sitting, it’s just impossible to put down. Dani Collins is fast becoming one of my favourite authors. Her ability to weave a story around horrible circumstances and creating something fresh and pure from it is just mind blowing. Her insight into human emotion is probably one of the reasons her books are so amazing. You can’t help loving her characters and their quirks."
~Adel, Goodreads

"This book has got to be one of the best books iv read recently, fast paced great dialogue couldn't put it down and read it in one go. Highly recommend this."
~Zeest, Mills & Boon website

"This is the best book I've read in a long time! Stavros and Callie were sooooo good together. The passion, the storyline OMG. Dani you out did yourself!!"
~Senta, Harlequin website

Xenakis's Convenient Bride is Book Two in the Secret Billionaire's trilogy. This sexy, exciting series features jaded tycoons making a wager they can go two weeks without their fortunes.

Book One is Rachael Thomas's Di Marcello's Secret Son. Antonio goes undercover as a mechanic and discovers Sadie had his baby after their brief affair four years ago.

Book Three is Jennifer Hayward's Salazar's One-Night Heir. Alejandro disguises himself as a stable groom to wreak revenge on Cecily's family and accidentally has an affair with her--one with consequences.

My hero, Stavros? He poses as a pool boy! He's sent to his childhood home in Greece where he falls in lust for Calli, a housekeeper/nanny whom he marries to take control of his grandfather's business--then discovers Calli has a secret of her own. A son. One who was stolen from her.

If you missed the #SampleSundays, you can read the first one here and here's another one.

Back to work for me. We still have some family commitments this weekend so I have to get my word count in. I'm hoping June settles down, but I've already pinky-sweared with my sister that I would come visit her in Winnipeg. How is your summer shaping up? Busy? Fun?

Bad Blogger

I'm being a bad blogger, I know. We took off to Yellowstone last week, to scratch Old Faithful off our bucket list. It turns out, when they say there's not wifi, they mean it. Like, you can't even buy it at the hotel. Zero. Zilch. So you have to make do with the view out your window for entertainment.

We managed. The glass of wine helped. If you'd like to see more photos from our trip, check out the album on Facebook.

Now I'm away again, scooping up our son from his first year of post-secondary. Next weekend we have a 40th party to attend (not ours - we're significantly past that.) Then our daughter is talking about coming to stay with us mid-June.

Forget blog posts. I'm struggling to find time to write books. That have deadlines. (Full disclosure: I hit 'send' on a manuscript yesterday. But still.)

This is just a quick Proof-Of-Life post. I'll have a proper one in a few days when Xenakis's Convenient Bride launches.

Meanwhile, I hope you're having great weather and a wonderful weekend....

#SampleSunday - Xenakis's Convenient Bride (2)

How was your week? I've been head-down writing, trying to finish a book so I can take a few days for some family commitments. Read on for your next instalment from Xenakis's Convenient Bride, available now on Mills & Boon and Harlequin.

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Aus | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

Xenakis's Convenient Bride is Book Two in the Secret Billionaire's trilogy. This sexy, exciting series features jaded tycoons making a wager they can go two weeks without their fortunes and names. They go undercover and lose their hearts.

Book One is Rachael Thomas's Di Marcello's Secret Son and Book Three is Jennifer Hayward's Salazar's One-Night Heir.

Last week I posted the prologue. If you missed it, you can read it here.

SampleSunday

CHAPTER ONE

Four and a half months later…

She floated in the pool on a giant ivory-colored clamshell, the pattern on her one-piece bathing suit a stark contrast of pink and green geometry against her golden, supple limbs. Her black hair spilled away from her face, a few tendrils drifting in the water. She wore sunglasses and red toe polish.

She was fast asleep.

As Stavros took in the way her suit painted her breasts and cut high over her hips, then smoothed over her mound to dip into the fork of her thighs, he stirred with desire. A detailed fantasy played out in his mind of diving in and coming up next to her, rolling her into his arms like an ancient god stealing a nymph and having her on that wicker sofa in the shade, behind the curtain of water on the far side of the pool.

The only sound in the high-walled courtyard was the patter of the thin waterfall. It poured off the edge of the ivy-entwined trellis that formed a roof over the lounge area and bar. The raining noise muffled his exhale as he set down the box containing power tools, a sledgehammer, trowels and adhesive compounds.

He stood and drank in another eyeful.

Perhaps being cast as a pool boy wasn’t so bad after all.

Last night, he’d stood in a tiny, stuffy, not air-conditioned bachelor apartment cursing Sebastien with sincere vehemence.

His two-week challenge had started and his new “home” was a walk-up over a coffee-roasting operation. The smell was appalling. He couldn’t decide which was worse: window open or closed. He had left it open while he compared his inventory of supplies with Antonio’s photo from two weeks ago.

At least he’d had a heads-up from his friend as to what this challenge entailed. Given Antonio had been sent to Milan, Stavros had suspected he would be sent to Greece, and here he was.

Which had given Stavros a moment of pause. He didn’t care if he lost the boat, and even Sebastien’s grand gesture was one he could make himself if it came right down to it. He had stepped off that many cliffs and platforms and airplanes at twenty-thousand feet, he shouldn’t have hesitated to step off a ferry onto the island of his birth.

But he had.

Which made him feel like a coward.

He had forced himself to disembark and walk to his flat where he had discovered that, like Antonio, he had been provided a prehistoric cell phone and a stack of cash—two hundred euros. Lunch money. But where Antonio had been given a set of coveralls, Stavros had been given board shorts.

They were supposed to go two weeks without their wealth and reputation, but apparently his dignity had to be checked at the door, as well. At least his costume wasn’t one of those banana hammocks so popular on European beaches. The uniform was tacky as hell regardless, pairing yellow-and-white-striped shorts with a yellow T-shirt.

Squinting one eye at the logo, Stavros had read the Greek letters as easily as he read English, and was offended in both languages. Zante Pool Care. Sebastien had told him to book vacation time, ensure his responsibilities were covered, then had sent him to work as a pool boy.

His phone was loaded with exactly three contacts: Sebastien, Antonio and Alejandro. He had texted Antonio a photo of his supplies along with the message, Is this for real?

If it turns out anything like mine, you’re in for more surprises than that.

Antonio had discovered a son. How much more astonishing could it get?

If Stavros had a child living here, it would be a miracle. He’d left when he was twelve and had only kissed a girl at that point. Once he moved to America, high-risk behavior had become his norm. His virginity had been lost at fourteen to a senior at the private school he’d attended. She had favored black eyeliner and dark red lipstick—and young men with a keen interest in learning how to please a woman. Scrappers were her favorite and he’d been one of those, too.

A year later, he’d been making conquests of his grandfather’s secretary and the nanny looking after his youngest sister. He wasn’t proud of that, but he wasn’t as regretful as he probably should be. Sex had been one of the few things to make him happy in those days.

Sex with that woman right there would certainly take the sting out of today’s situation. The next fourteen days, in fact.

Another rush of misgiving went through him. This challenge was not a simple two weeks of pretending to be an everyman. Sebastien had left him a note.

You may remember our conversation last year, when you came to visit me as I was recovering from the avalanche. You opened that excellent bottle of fifty-year-old Scotch whiskey in my honor. I thank you again for that.

At the time you told me how losing your father had given you the strength to dig through the snow to save my life. Do you remember also telling me how much you resented your grandfather for taking you to New York and forcing you to answer to your American name? I suspect you were really saying that you didn’t feel you deserved to be his heir.

Sebastien had chided Stavros for not appreciating his family and heritage, since Sebastien hadn’t had those advantages. In his note, he continued:

I grant you your wish. For the next two weeks Steve Michaels, with all his riches and influence, does not exist. You are Stavros Xenakis and work for Zante Pool Care. Report at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow, three blocks down the road.
Antonio lasted two weeks without blowing his cover, so I have committed the first third of my five billion to the search-and-rescue foundation. Do the same, Stavros. It could save a life. And use this time to make peace with your past.

—Sebastien

Stavros had stayed up later than he should have, some of it jet lag, but mostly conjuring ways to get out of this challenge. Besides, he couldn’t sleep in that hot room, tossing and turning on the hard single bed. Old-fashioned honor had him accepting his lot and falling asleep.

Then, even earlier than he needed to rise, the sun had struck directly into his eyes. Large trucks with squeaky brakes had pulled in beneath the open window.

Disgusted, Stavros had eaten a bowl of dry cereal with the canned milk he’d been provided. He’d bought a coffee from a shop as he walked to “work.”

His boss, Ionnes, had given him a clipboard that held a map, a handful of drawings and a work order. He had dangled a set of keys and pointed at a truck full of supplies and equipment, telling him to be sure to unload it since he wouldn’t have the vehicle tomorrow.

Stavros might have booked a flight home at that point, but he had left his credit cards in New York, as instructed. He’d been completing Sebastien’s challenges since his first year of university. None had killed him yet.

Nevertheless, as he’d followed the map, he had recognized the dip and roll of the road through the hills, eighteen years of changes notwithstanding. His heart had grown heavier with each mile, his lungs tighter.

Perhaps he wasn’t defying his own death with this challenge, but the loss of his father was even more difficult to confront.

He had sat in the driveway a full five minutes, pushing back dark memories by focusing on the changes in the home they’d occupied until their lives had overturned with the flip of a boat on the sea.

The villa was well tended, but modest by his current standards. It had been his mother’s dream home when she married. She was a local girl from the fishing village on the bottom of the island. She had insisted her husband use this as his base. It had been a place where he could enjoy downtime. Quality time, with his children. She had called him a workaholic who was losing his roots, spending too much time in America, allowing the expanding interests of the family corporation to dominate his life.

The villa hadn’t been new. It had needed repairs and his father had enlisted Stavros to set fresh paving stones at the front entrance while his mother and sisters had potted the bougainvillea that now bloomed in masses of pink against the white walls.

The memories were so sharp and painful as Stavros sat there, he wanted to jam the truck in Reverse and get away from all of it.

But where would he go? Back to the blaming, shaming glint in his grandfather’s hard stare? Back to the understudy role he hated, but played because his father wasn’t there to be the star?

Cursing Sebastien afresh, Stavros glanced over his work order. He wasn’t cleaning the pool, but repairing the cracked tiles around it. Déjà vu with paving stones. The mistress of the house would direct him.

He blew out a disgusted breath. After two decades of bearing up under his grandfather’s dictates, and now facing a demand that he marry, he was at the end of his rope with being told what to do.

No one answered the doorbell so he let himself in through the gate at the side and went down the stairs into a white-walled courtyard that opened on one side to the view of the sea. His arrival didn’t stir Venus from her slumber.

Damn, but his tension wanted an outlet. He let his gaze cruise over her stellar figure once more. If she was a wife, she was the trophy kind, but she wasn’t wearing a ring.

The mistress of the place, his employer had said. He would just bet she was a mistress. How disappointing to have such a beauty reserved by his boss’s client.

In another life, Stavros wouldn’t have let that stop him from going after her.

This was another life, he recalled with a kick of his youthful recklessness.

Crouching, he scooped up a handful of water and flicked it at her.

~ * ~

Want to read the rest? You can buy now from Mills & Boon and Harlequin.

Or you can pre-order and it will auto-magically deliver on June 1st:

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Aus | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

Prequel

In case you missed it, there's a prequel to this series that shows why Sebastien is so keen to make his wager with his friends. It's called The Secret Billionaire's Mistress and you can read it here.

Want to be notified with an email when one of my books is released? Follow my newsletter! You'll receive Cruel Summer as a welcome gift.

Have a great weekend,

#SampleSunday - Xenakis's Convenient Bride

I've been in my writing cave all week and just realized I owe a post! Fortunately, Xenakis's Convenient Bride arrived on Mills & Boon and Harlequin this month.

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Aus | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

Xenakis's Convenient Bride is Book Two in the Secret Billionaire's trilogy. This sexy, exciting series features jaded tycoons making a wager they can go two weeks without their fortunes and names. They go undercover and lose their hearts.

Book One is Rachael Thomas's Di Marcello's Secret Son and Book Three is Jennifer Hayward's Salazar's One-Night Heir.

Here's the blurb for Xenakis's Convenient Bride:

The challenge: two weeks without your billionaire fortune!

Greek magnate Stavros Xenakis must go undercover to win a bet—and escape his grandfather's demands that he take a bride. Until encountering deliciously tempting housekeeper Calli proves that a wife is exactly what he needs!

Calli's baby being taken away robbed her of the ability to trust anyone. Now Stavros's offer to marry her gives her the chance to finally find her son. But Calli doesn't expect their honeymoon to be so sinfully sensual—and for life as the temporary Mrs. Xenakis to be so exquisitely satisfying…

SampleSunday

Here's the prologue. I'll be back next week with Chapter One.

PROLOGUE

Stavros Xenakis threw his twenty-thousand-euro chips into the pot, less satisfied than he usually was postchallenge, but it had nothing to do with his fellow players or his lackluster hand.

His longtime friend Sebastien Atkinson had arranged his usual après-adrenaline festivities. It had wound down to the four of them, as it often did. Many turned out for these extreme sports events, but only Antonio Di Marcello and Alejandro Salazar had the same deep pockets Stavros and Sebastien did. Or the stones to bet at this level simply to stretch out a mellow evening.

Stavros wasn’t the snob his grandfather was, but he didn’t consider many his equal. These men were it and he enjoyed their company for that reason. Tonight was no exception. They were still high on today’s exercise of cheating death, sipping 1946 Macallan while trading good-natured insults.

So why was he twitching with edginess?

He mentally reviewed today’s paraski that had had him carving a steep line down a ski slope to a cliff’s edge before rocketing into thin air, lifted by his chute for a thousand feet, guiding his path above a ridge, then hitting the lower slope for another run of hard turns before taking to the air again.

It had been as physically demanding as any challenge that had come before and was probably their most daredevil yet. Throughout most of it, he’d been completely in the moment—his version of meditating.

He had expected today to erase the frustration that had been dogging him, but it hadn’t. He might have set it aside for a few hours, but this niggling irritation was back to grate at him.

Sebastien eyed him across the table, no doubt trying to determine if he was bluffing.

“How’s your wife?” Stavros asked, more as a deflection, but also trying to divine how Sebastien could be happily married.

“Better company than you. Why are you so surly tonight?”

Was it obvious? He grimaced. “I haven’t won yet.” He was among friends so he admitted the rest. “And my grandfather is threatening to disinherit me if I don’t marry soon. I’d tell him to go to hell, but…”

“Your mother,” Alejandro said.

“Exactly.” They all knew his situation. He played ball with his grandfather for the sake of his mother and sisters. He couldn’t walk away from his own inheritance when it would cost them theirs.

But “settle down?” His grandfather had been trying to fit Stavros into a box from the time he was twelve. Lately it had become a push toward picket fences. Demands he produce an heir and a spare.

Stavros couldn’t buy into any of that so, yet again, he was in a power struggle with the old man. He usually got around being whipped down a particular path, but he hadn’t yet found his alternate route. It chewed and chewed at him, especially when his grandfather was holding control of the family’s pharmaceutical conglomerate hostage.

Stavros might be a hell-raiser, but his rogue personality had produced some of the biggest gains for Dýnami. He was more than ready to steer the ship. A wife and children were cargo he didn’t need, but his grandfather seemed to think it would prove he was “mature” and “responsible.”

Where his grandfather got the idea he wasn’t either of those things, Stavros couldn’t say. He upped his ante to a full hundred thousand, despite the fact his hand had not improved. He promptly lost it.

They played a little longer, then Sebastien asked, “Do you ever get the feeling we spend too much of our lives counting our money and chasing superficial thrills at the expense of something more meaningful?”

“You called it,” Antonio said to Alejandro, tossing over a handful of chips. “Four drinks and he’s philosophizing.”

Sebastien gave Stavros a look of disgust as he also pushed some chips toward Alejandro’s pile.

“I said three.” Stavros shrugged without apology. “My losing streak continues.”

“I’m serious.” Sebastien was the only self-made billionaire among them, raised by a single mother on the dole in a country where bloodlines and titles were still more valuable than a bank balance. His few extra years of age and experience gave him the right to act as mentor. He wasn’t afraid to offer his opinion and he was seldom wrong. They all listened when he spoke, but he did get flowery when he was in his cups. “At our level, it’s numbers on a page. Points on a scoreboard. What does it contribute to our lives? Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

“It buys some nice substitutes.” Antonio smirked.

Sebastien’s mouth twisted. “Like your cars?” he mused, then flicked his glance to Alejandro. “Your private island? You don’t even use that boat you’re so proud of,” he said, moving on to Stavros. “We buy expensive toys and play dangerous games, but does it enrich our lives? Feed our souls?”

“What are you suggesting?” Alejandro drawled, discarding a card and motioning for it to be replaced. “We go live with the Buddhists in the mountains? Learn the meaning of life? Renounce our worldly possessions to find inner clarity?”

Sebastien made a scoffing noise. “You three couldn’t go two weeks without your wealth and family names to support you. Your gilded existence makes you blind to reality.”

“Could you?” Stavros challenged, throwing away three cards. “Try telling us you would go back to when you were broke, before you made your fortune. Hungry isn’t happy. That’s why you’re such a rich bastard now.”

“As it happens, I’ve been thinking of donating half my fortune to charity, to start a global search-and-rescue fund. Not everyone has friends who will dig him out of an avalanche with their bare hands.” Sebastien smiled, but the rest of them didn’t.

Last year, Sebastien had nearly died during one of their challenges. Stavros still woke from nightmares of reliving those dark minutes. He’d wound up with frostbite burns on his fingers, but he’d been frantic to save Sebastien, unable to watch a man die again. A man whose life he valued. He felt sick recollecting it and took a sip of his whiskey to sear away the nausea.

“Are you serious?” Alejandro charged. “That’s, what? Five billion?”

“You can’t take it with you.” Sebastien’s shrug was nonchalant. “Monika is on board with it, but I’m still debating. I’ll tell you what.” He leaned forward, mouth curling into the wicked grin he always wore when he proposed cliff diving or some other outrageous act. “You three go two weeks without your credit cards and I’ll do it.”

“Starting when? We all have responsibilities,” Alejandro reminded.

After a considering pause, Sebastien canted his head. “Fair enough. Clear the decks at home. But be prepared for word from me—and two weeks in the real world.”

“You’re really going to wager half your fortune on a cakewalk of a challenge?” Alejandro said.

“If you’ll put up your island. Your favorite toys?” He took in all three men. “I say where and when.”

They all snorted with confidence.

“Easy,” Stavros said, already anticipating the break from his grandfather’s badgering. “Count me in.”

~ * ~

Wait until he meets Calli! Can't wait? Here are your pre-order links:

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Aus | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

Prequel

In case you missed it, there's a prequel to this series that shows why Sebastien is so keen to make his wager with his friends. It's called The Secret Billionaire's Mistress and you can read it here.

Want to be notified with an email when one of my books is released? Follow my newsletter! You'll receive Cruel Summer as a welcome gift.

Have a great weekend,

Bites Of Books - His Mistress With Two Secrets

When I completed and submitted my thirtieth book, I decided to celebrate by offering a taste from each one. His Mistress With Two Secrets is Book Two in my Sauveterre Siblings quartet. She's pregnant with the billionaire's babies. Twins! Enjoy!

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

1) Pursued By The Desert Prince, Mar 2017

2) His Mistress With Two Secrets, Apr 2017

3) Bound By The Millionaire's Ring, Oct 2017

4) Prince's Son Of Scandal, Jan 2018

~ * ~

“I’m surprised you stayed below as long as you did when you had this to retreat to,” she said as Henri padded out to join her. He was compelled. Drawn. It was strange and not something he would typically indulge. The strength of his attraction made him a little uncomfortable.

Below them, people began filing out to the outdoor lounge while the music followed them.

Ramon was the one who liked crowds. Henri preferred a quieter atmosphere, but he said smoothly, “Good thing we did or I wouldn’t have met you.”

Her snort was delicate, if disparaging. Most blondes with blue eyes played up the suggestion of vulnerable innocence in their coloring. Not Cinnia. Her vintage hairstyle framed her face in a waifish way, but her brows had a sharp, intelligent angle. Her lashes stayed low and her gaze watchful, not cynical, but not goggling or overly impressed by any of this.

He liked that sign of inner confidence and strength. It was compelling, sparking his curiosity. “You feel differently?”

“I feel this is a well-oiled machine you two are operating.” She flicked her glance to the plate of canapés that appeared like magic on the glass table next to them.

“I would call that distrustful,” he said, waiting until the server had gone to swing his gaze back to hers. “If I didn’t think you two were running a similar routine. I’ll call it hypocritical instead.”

Her blue gaze flashed to his, but inside the suite, Vera was laughing at something Ramon had said. The two were meshing like cogs rolling against one another to turn out a foregone conclusion. Cinnia’s mouth tightened.

“Unable to deny it?” he taunted gently.

“You approached us,” she reminded with enough pique to amuse him.

“I was invited.”

“I didn’t mean to stare.” Her gaze returned to the view, chin coming up.

It had been more than a stare. She had smiled at him.

He watched with fascination as the fringe across her breasts quivered under an indignant breath. He would bet her cheeks were pink if the light was high enough to tell.

“I doubt I’m the first to be curious about the pair of you. You make a fetching couple.” Her smile was pure aspartame.

Her eyes, however, were a spun-sugar-blue. That was unmistakable as a huge white light swirled down from a helicopter, rousing the crowd below into cheering.

Her beauty gave him a sudden kick in the chest. It wasn’t a trick of makeup because she wore very little. The requisite eyeliner made her eyes stand out, but she’d only darkened her lashes a little. They weren’t lengthened with false ones like so many women wore these days. A shimmery blue streaked across her lids, but otherwise her features were clean and her skin fine and creamy.

“Did you really know it was me who looked back at you, or is that an assumption? Because it usually takes people months, even years to tell us apart.” It was easy once a person realized Henri was left-handed and Ramon right, or that Henri tended to speak French as his default while Ramon preferred Spanish, but few noticed those details.

“You are remarkably alike, but…” She glanced into the suite, to where Ramon was holding open the designer bag, listening politely to Vera wax in delight over the contents. They usually let their mother pick over the contents of those bags, then handed the rest to their PAs, but Henri was just as happy to let these women take them home.

He took advantage of Cinnia’s distraction to glance at his phone. The bullet points backed up what he’d already assumed. Her mother was well-born, but the family was broke. Cinnia worked for a wealth management firm and was listed on their website as an intern, filing and fetching coffee, he assumed. The only risk Cinnia Whitley posed was financial and he was quite sure he could afford her.

He tucked his phone away, irritated to note she was still eyeing his brother, brows pulled together in consternation.

“But?” he prompted, having to stand close to be heard over the music below.

“I don’t know. I don’t read auras or anything like that, but… Never mind.” She flashed him another look, this one self-conscious.

Sexually aware?

“That’s interesting.” His annoyance evaporated, replaced by intensified attraction. He leaned his elbow on the rail so he was even closer to her, edging into her space, liking the way she tried to quell a little shiver. She smelled like roses and tropics and something earthy that further turned him on.

“Wh-what is?” She was trying to look blasé, but he knew the signs of physical magnetism. There was a pulse beating fast in her throat, but it wasn’t fear. She wasn’t moving away. She was skimming her gaze across his shoulders and down his chest.

Chemistry was such a wonderful thing. He didn’t move, allowing the primal signals to bounce between them, stimulating him and heightening his senses. Sex was the cheapest and best high in the world, as far as he was concerned.

“You react to me, but not to him.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Didn’t you? My mistake.”

“You are mistaken,” she assured him hotly. “Whatever you’re thinking about me—us—and why we came up here, forget it.”

She wasn’t used to being so attracted to the men she exploited, he surmised. Poor thing. This must be very disconcerting for her. With that reserved personality, he bet she usually did quite well at stringing a man along. Was she afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold out with him until she had squeezed all she could from him?

“I’m thinking you’re here to watch the fireworks. What did you think I was thinking?”

She spun back to the view, setting her chin.

He smiled. “Listen.” He very lightly stroked the back of his bent finger down her bare arm, entranced when goose pimples chased the same path.

She shot him a look that was startled and uncertain, quickly rubbing the bumps away.

“I don’t have to work this hard to get a woman to sleep with me. This is how I live.” He waved his champagne glass at the opulence around them. “Enjoy it without feeling obligated.”

“You won’t expect anything after?” she scoffed.

“By ‘anything,’ do you mean that?” He thumbed to where Vera was on tiptoes inside the suite, painting herself against Ramon, lips firmly locked over his.

Cinnia made a pained noise and looked out across the river again. As strategies went, her friend was overplaying her hand.

“I shall remain hopeful,” Henri drawled.

“Yes, you will remain that way,” Cinnia assured him.

He hid a silent laugh behind the glass he lifted to his lips, deciding he wanted her quite badly and was willing to pay whatever it cost. He respected people who knew what they were worth.

But he only said, “Don’t make promises unless you can keep them, chéri.”

~ * ~

Find His Mistress With Two Secrets at your favourite retailer:

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

Have you read Book One of The Sauveterre Siblings?

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Aus | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

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The Secret Billionaires - Prequel

Free Online Read

The Secret Billionaire's Mistress is my short, sexy, prequel to The Secret Billionaires trilogy I wrote with Rachael Thomas and Jennifer Hayward. Look for the books May, June, and July. Read the prequel here - it's free!.

The Secret Billionaires are high-octane tycoons who need a fresh challenge. Sebastien, the hero of the prequel, bets them they can't go two weeks without their fortunes and the power that comes with their names. They go for it--and wind up risking more than they bargained for.

Depending when you read this, the link may have changed. (This is what comes of having something publish online while Mercury is in retrograde.) I'll try to update it when I have the new one, but please drop me a line through my contact page if you have trouble finding it.

Behind The Scenes

I feel like I'm busy, but not getting anything finished, just started. Here's one of the things that I have been working on:

I've realized my office is overrun by author copies. I will be setting up some giveaways on Facebook, my website, and of course, in my newsletter. Scroll to the bottom of this blog post for details on how to join or click here.

Another task I have set for myself is to begin using Dragon Dictate. This software goes by many names, but the basic idea is to talk instead of type. It's a very different process! My first few attempts made me feel as though I was learning to write all over again.

The next biggest challenge has been that my husband is home all day. He's been off work since having carpal tunnel surgery. This means I'm feeling very self-conscious speaking aloud. What if he hears me? (He so doesn't care.)

Nevertheless, as I was struggling to find my words, I thought I heard him on the stairs. I freaked out, turned off the microphone, and rushed over to close my door. Yes, I am that neurotic.

He's probably on his earbuds anyway. He likes to listen to music as he putters around the house.

And no, in case you're wondering. I'm not suffering carpal tunnel issues myself. I don't have any reason to worry except statistics. But I would rather hone the dictation skill now, than try to master it on-the-fly because I suddenly found myself in pain from an injury.

I'm not sure 'writing' this blog post by dictating it has saved me much time. (I am revising the old fashioned way.) But I'm given to understand practice may not make perfect, but it will make me faster, more accurate, and more comfortable with the process. So I shall persevere!

Have you ever tried dictation software? I have a writer friend who uses it and winds up leaving voicemails where she says the punctuation aloud. Period.

Works In Process

Something I'm often asked if I ever work on two projects at once. Ha! I have been genuinely frustrated at times that I couldn't literally--physically--type two books at one time. My biggest hope from this dictation software is that I'll be able to dictate one book while typing another. What do you mean, I sound like a workaholic?

I'm kidding, of course. The real answer, however, is that yes, it is very common for me to have more than one book in progress. I typically complete a book, submit it, and start a new project while the first is with my editor. When her revision letter arrives, I stop writing the second book and switch back to the first. Right now, I have outdone myself. I'm waiting for a revision letter and have started three different projects. (It's a long story.)

To some extent, it's a time management thing. I like to know that I have a solid proposal ready for when a current book is accepted. I am not the type of author who enjoys writing right up to deadline. I like to know what my assignment is, then set myself crazy, unrealistic goals and stress out to imaginary deadlines. This is totally true. Ask my husband.

This routine is also a hold over from before I was published. At that time I would submit a manuscript, then start something new so that if I received a rejection (when I received a rejection) I would already be invested in a new project and wouldn't quit out of discouragement.

And my husband has since told me that a huge sign of being a workaholic is starting projects before finishing others. So. Ahem.

Goodreads Giveaway

If you haven't entered this, you have a few more days before it closes:

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Goodreads Book Giveaway








Xenakis's Convenient Bride


by Dani Collins

Giveaway ends April 26, 2017.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Other News

I'll have more news in May as I start #SampleSundays for Xenakis's Convenient Bride. If you're waiting for more Sauveterres, they're scheduled thusly:

Book Three (Ramon) - Bound By The Millionaire's Ring, October 2017

Book Four (Trella) - Prince's Son Of Scandal, January 2018

If you follow my newsletter, you'll be notified when they go on sale.

I'm going to end it here. Thank you for being part of my dictation experiment! If you would like to receive updates on my progress and other projects, please join my newsletter. When you confirm, you'll receive a link to download Cruel Summer for free as a welcome gift.

Have a great weekend,

#SampleSunday - His Mistress With Two Secrets

Thank you!

His Mistress With Two Secrets caught the little golden tag on Amazon this week. I'm so thrilled. That's your doing, Dear Reader. Thank you!

Amazon: US | CA | UK | Nook | Kobo | iBooks | GooglePlay

I'm rushing this post a bit. We finally have a sunny day and a dozen things to get done. I'm stressing, of course, because I had to delete a thousand words yesterday and didn't get my word count in. Now I'll lose more today. Argh.

Ah well, at least this book is complete and available to you. Read on for Chapter One.

SampleSunday

Did you miss last week? Read the prologue here.

Chapter One flashes back to their first meeting.

~ * ~

CHAPTER ONE

Two years ago…

Cinnia was not a social climber, but her roommate, Vera, was. Cheerfully and without apology. Thus, when Vera wangled opening night tickets from the owner of the hottest new night club in London, she demanded Cinnia accompany her.

“I told him about your title,” Vera said. “That’s how I got him to say yes to our coming.”

“The title that belongs to my great-uncle a million times removed whom I’ve never met and who wouldn’t know me from Eve?”

“I might have exaggerated how close you are. But I told him about your granny’s vintage tiara and since his theme is ‘flappers and gangsters,’ and he wants window dressing, he said we could come as staff. No swag,” Vera said with a dismayed wrinkle of her nose. “Just mingle with the guests. Be first on the dance floor, that sort of thing.”

Cinnia was reluctant. Her weekends were her only time away from her job at a wealth management firm to put the pieces in place for striking out on her own. She had set September as her goal and had a mile-long list of to-dos to make it happen.

“You work too hard,” Vera groaned. “Look at it as a chance to rub elbows with potential clients. This will be wall-to-wall, top-tier, A-list celebs.”

“That’s not how it works.”

Cinnia’s mother saw a different opportunity when Cinnia spoke to her over the tablet. “Tell me I can’t wear the tiara so I can tell Vera there’s no point.”

“Nonsense. We’ll get my dress out of storage, too. It’s time they both saw some use. You, too, for that matter.” Her mother had purposely held a Roaring Twenties party on her tenth anniversary so she could wear her grandmother’s modest, heirloom tiara. She had had a beaded dress made special for the occasion.

“You wouldn’t get the tiara from the safety-deposit box when we were broke and I wanted to sell it, but you’ll let me wear it to a nightclub?” Cinnia asked, askance.

“This is why I kept it, for you girls to wear on special occasions. Go. Have fun. There’s bound to be some nice men there.”

“Rich husbands, you mean? They don’t sell them at the bar, Mum.”

“Of course not. It will be an open bar for something like this, won’t it?” her mother returned tartly.

There was a reason she and her sisters called their mum “Mrs. Bennet.” She was forever trying to find their golden ticket of a husband. There was also a reason she was so determined to do so. The Whitleys had descended from aristocracy. The blue blood cells had been significantly diluted by bright, peasant red, but Milly Whitley was determined that her daughters would make good matches and the Whitleys would return to the lofty position they’d all enjoyed before Mr. Whitley had died and his fragile financial house of cards had toppled around them.

Until then, they would dress the part and hang onto a house that was a money pit and they would attend the sorts of occasions that told the world they hadn’t gone anywhere.

“I daresay you’ll find a better class of suitor than your usual struggling students and apron clingers,” her mother added snobbishly.

All they needed was one man with deep pockets.

Or, as Cinnia had said countless times, they could all get proper jobs like normal people.

Her two middle sisters decried that as blasphemy.

Priscilla, her first younger sister, was a model. Genuinely pretty, but not in high demand. Two years out of school and she had barely worked at all. She just needed a better head shot or a new outfit or a change of hairstyle and her career would take off, she kept assuring them. Completing a course in hairstyling or something useful like that would only hold her back.

Nell, their stunning little party girl, didn’t need a job. Boys already bought her things and she was the one who would land them the Big Fish when the time came. If Cinnia could somehow keep her in school long enough to complete her A levels without getting pregnant, she’d be thrilled.

Thankfully Dorry had a brain and ten times anyone’s ambition to use it. Their youngest sister had been babysitting from the moment she was old enough to wipe a nose and currently had a job in a fish-and-chip truck, much to their mother’s repulsion. Dorry squirreled her money before anyone saw it and kept her head down, usually bent over a book. If something happened to Cinnia, she had every confidence her baby sister would keep the rest of them fed and sheltered.

She was trying not to put that on poor Dorry. After trying to help her mother win a fight against owing back taxes and other debts associated with her father’s estate, Cinnia had taken an interest in wills and estate planning. As careers went, it paid well enough, was stable and flexible and she found it intellectually challenging.

Her mother said she might as well be an undertaker.

Vera said, “No matter what, do not tell any men we chat up what you do for a living. Not unless we’re trying to get away from them.”

Cinnia didn’t have Vera’s interest in meeting men. Her mother’s lack of a career to fall back on had been their downfall. All Milly was qualified to do was take in university students as boarders because she had a big house, which was how she paid the bills, much to her everlasting embarrassment. She spun it as a lark when people asked about it. She liked to be surrounded by young people, she said, playing eccentric.

Cinnia was determined never to have her back against the wall like that. She was already self-supporting and, even though she knew running her own agency came with risk, she had hit the ceiling where she was. The next step was to become her own boss.

Thus, she was thinking about how to build her client list as she stood with Vera, chatting to an unassuming musician and a nerdy social media magnate. The men were ridiculously wealthy and equally shy, which was why bubbly women like Vera had been called in, Cinnia supposed, letting her gaze stray to take in an evening beyond any she would experience again in this lifetime.

The nightclub was a reclaimed industrial building, tricked out with steel and glass and modern art. Top-shelf liquor was served in cut-crystal glasses by uniformed bartenders. The main room was open to the upper floor, making the place feel airy despite the crush of people in the low-slung chairs and standing in groups around the full dance floor.

Tonight, the tables had been covered with velvet tablecloths and the place was littered with feather boas and faux furs. The typical nightclub black light had been replaced with a sultry red. It threw sexy shadows into every corner and gave faces a warm glow. The DJ was mashing old jazz and modern hits with delightful results while a bouncer guarded stairs that rose to a walk-around gallery on the upper level. When they’d arrived, they’d been given a peek into the ultraposh, private entertainment rooms reserved for the most exclusive guests.

Judging by the movie stars and the other celebrities not gaining access, those rooms would be used by a very rich and exalted personality indeed.

Cinnia wasn’t impressed with money and fame, but she would love to take on any of these pocketbooks as clients. Sadly, people with this much money to throw around were not interested in a boutique agency still smelling of builder’s dust. She had known from the outset that nothing would come of this evening beyond a few lost hours and a cute entry in the logbook of appearances made by her great-granny’s tiara. C’est la vie.

Then she saw him.

Them, really. The Sauveterre twins. The male pair. The same gorgeous man in duplicate arrived at the top of the short flight of entrance stairs, where they overlooked the sunken area of the main lounge.

Her pulse stumbled.

She was startled to see them in person. And curious, of course. She’d been eleven when their sister had been kidnapped, old enough to follow the story as intently as the rest of the world. It had had a profound impact on her. To this day it made her heart feel stretched and tense just thinking about it.

The family name had turned up in a million news stories and gossip magazines and online hits since then. That’s how she knew, despite the distance across the dimly lit room, that they were as handsome as they seemed from afar.

They had identical dark hair cut close under matching black fedoras tilted slyly to the left. While every other man had turned up in a baggy, striped suit with a red tie and carried a violin case, these two wore crisp black shirts with the cuffs rolled back, high-waisted, tailored black pants held up with white suspenders and smart white ties.

The sharp look accentuated their muscled shoulders and neat hips, while the narrow cut of the pants drew her eye to their matching black-and-white wingtips. They looked like gangsters of old, but the really dangerous ones. The ones so powerful and commanding, they didn’t have to swagger. They killed with a blink.

They wore exactly the same expression of bored tolerance as they pushed their hands in their pockets and scanned the room.

It was funny to see them move in unison, which held her attention until one stopped. He turned his head from the direction of the stairs, barely moving, but it was as if he sensed her attention and met her gaze all the way from across the club.

Cinnia’s heart took a funny bounce. She told herself it was the embarrassment of being caught gawking coupled with the shock of recognizing a celebrity. Catching a glimpse of the Sauveterre twins, even in a place filled with faux royals and rock stars, was a big deal. She knew they were regular people underneath the reputation, not something to get fluttery over, but she was rather giddy holding this man’s gaze.

There’s my rich husband, Mum. The thought made her smile at herself.

His head tilted just a little and he gave a slight nod. It was a very understated acknowledgement. Hello.

“Who do you see?” Vera asked, and followed Cinnia’s gaze, whispering under her breath, “Oh, my gawd.”

The men moved down the stairs onto the dance floor, leaving Cinnia swallowing and trying to recover from something that had been nothing. Why did her blood feel as though it was stinging her veins?

“We have to meet them,” Vera insisted.

“Shh,” Cinnia protested, forcing her gaze back to the crooner. She and Vera were supposed to be circulating and making small talk. “Who needs another Gin Rickey?” she asked the men.

She absolutely refused to look around and see if he looked at her again. Why would he? Still, she remained attuned to him, feeling prickly and hypersensitive, like she was in grade school and her first crush had entered the room. She knew exactly where he was as they both moved around the room for the next half hour.

Vera leaned into her. “They’re by the bar. Let’s get into their line of sight.”

“Vera.”

“We’ll just see if we can say hi. Besides, there will be a stampede for drinks when it’s time to toast. We should freshen ours now, so we can take them outside for the fireworks.”

She and Vera quickly realized they’d be swimming upstream trying to get nearer the twins or the bar. They moved to safer ground near the bottom of the stairs and stood with attentive expressions as the club owner quieted the room and thanked everyone for coming.

Or rather Cinnia gave their host her polite attention while Vera visually cruised for fresh prospects.

Vera would flirt with anyone. She was fun-loving, pretty and had a knockout figure that reeled men in from across a pub or wherever she dragged Cinnia for a night out. They’d met at uni and Vera was not only loyal, funny and caring, but also the absolute best at keeping Cinnia from becoming the stick-in-the-mud that Vera always called her.

Cinnia wasn’t as curvy as Vera, but she drew her share of male attention. She might not try to get by on her looks the way her mother thought she could, but she knew her wavy blond hair and patrician features gave her certain advantages. They were also a perfect foil for Vera’s darker looks, which Vera used to her advantage.

Cinnia didn’t date so much as play Vera’s wing woman. She had come out tonight knowing they would very likely wind up departing the club with whomever Vera had set her sights on. But, while Vera often went home with men she barely knew, Cinnia fully expected to find her way back to their flat alone.

As the speeches finished up and the fireworks were promised to start soon, there was a minor lull in noise.

“It’d be nice if we could find some men to buy us a drink.”

It was classic Vera, spoken mostly in jest because she knew it got under Cinnia’s skin. She knew Cinnia believed women should be self-reliant and not look to men for anything.

Cinnia bit back her knee-jerk lecture on feminism, refusing to let her friend get a rise out of her.

Behind them, a male voice said, “Ladies? Are you going up?”

*

Henri recognized the blonde as they made their way toward the stairs. She had a serene profile and a graceful figure draped in a vintage style dress that he imagined his sisters would coo over. They were the fashion aficionados, but he knew quality when he saw it.

Everything about this woman was understated elegance. In a sea of heavy makeup and over-the-top flapper gear, she wore a short black number that shimmered with fringe. Her hair was pressed into the pinched waves of old and a simple line of diamonds banded it. One side of her delicate tiara was bedecked with a leafy filigree and a single feather.

She looked smart and feminine without even trying.

She had smiled at him earlier, which was nothing new. People stared and acted like they knew him all the time. Heads in the crowd were turning to do it now. He usually ignored it, but he had looked back at her for a full thirty seconds because, why not? She was beautiful. It hadn’t been a chore.

Neither was this side of her. The dress didn’t need to hug her figure to show off her pert ass and slender thighs. It was rather erotic in the way it only suggested at the curves it disguised.

“Company?” he suggested.

Possessing exactly as healthy a libido as Henri, Ramon followed his gaze, saw the stacked brunette beside her, and commented, “Good eye.”

They easily operated as one unit without preplanning. Henri paused beside the women in time to hear them wish for a man to buy them drinks.

Ramon stepped past them to open the chain on the bottom of the stairs himself, not bothering to identify himself to the bouncer. Everyone knew them on sight.

“Ladies? Are you going up?” Ramon’s gaze flicked back to Henri. He’d heard their lament and Henri very subtly signaled he didn’t care.

They were targets of gold diggers all the time. They had both learned to take care of themselves. It didn’t mean a good time couldn’t be had by all.

The brunette blushed and smiled, standing taller, shoulders going back. She was dazzled and very receptive. “Yes. We are.” She nodded confidently despite the fact they all knew who moved freely up these upstairs and who did not. She nudged the blonde.

The blonde pursed her mouth with dismay. Embarrassed at being overheard as a mercenary? No need. Henri found that to be the easiest and most convenient of traits to manage in a woman.

The music started up again, increasing his desire to leave the noise and crowd behind.

The blonde looked warily between him and his brother, giving Henri the sense she was trying to work out which one of them had met her gaze earlier.

He and Ramon didn’t fight over women. There was no point since neither of them wanted long-term relationships. Women seemed to view them as interchangeable anyway. But Henri found himself annoyed by the idea she might decide to go with Ramon.

What had been a generic restlessness responding to the gaze of a beautiful female ticked up into a desire to have this one in particular.

“Watch the fireworks in our suite,” Ramon said with easy command, waving an invitation. “Save me from staring at my own face.”

“Why would you stare at your brother when you’ll be watching the fireworks?” the brunette asked with a cheeky bat of her lashes. “Maybe if you didn’t dress alike you wouldn’t feel like you were talking into a mirror?”

“We don’t do it intentionally.” Ramon offered his arm to escort her up the stairs. “It happens even when we’re half the world away from each other. We’ve stopped fighting it.”

“Really!”

The pair was quickly lost in the shadows of the gallery.

The blonde gazed after her friend, biting her lip, then relaxed her mouth and licked her lips as she glanced at Henri. It almost seemed a nervous response, but the action flooded color into a mouth that now looked dewy and soft as rose petals, shiny and kissable. A very enticing move.

His gaze lingered on the sight, as his mind slid naturally into the pleasant fantasy of crushing her mouth with his.

“Shall we?”

She fell into step beside him.

This was not his first time picking up women with his brother. He and Ramon had long ago concluded that if they were saddled with being the Sauveterre twins they were damned well going to take advantage of the one outstanding benefit. Startlingly good looks, times two, along with buckets of money and celebrity status meant that the sweetest companions were in endless supply.

“Was that true?” the blonde asked, leaning in to be heard. “That you dress alike at other times, not just tonight?”

“Yes.” Henri hated talking about himself and loathed even more talking about his family, but this was one of those innocuous tidbits that strangers loved to hear. The mystery of being a twin was infinitely fascinating to those who weren’t. He accepted it and had stopped fighting it, as well.

At least tonight it gave him an excuse to hold her arm as he leaned down to speak in her ear, liking the silken brush of her hair against his nose as he inhaled a scent that was cool English roses and warm woman.

“In fact, when one of us changes out of what the other is wearing, we inevitably spill something and have to go back to the first outfit.”

“You’re joking.”

He shrugged off her skepticism. His sisters were connected on an emotional level. He and his brother were more outwardly aligned. They had very different personalities, were competitive as hell with each other, but often spoke in unison or followed a similar thought process, inevitably arriving at the same end result. As Henri had been calling his brother to suggest they host this year’s planning sessions in London instead of their usual Paris or Madrid, Ramon had been accepting the invite to this club opening.

“I’m, um, Cinnia. Whitley.” She offered her hand as they arrived on the upper floor.

“Henri.” Her skin felt as soft as it looked and was warmer than the pale tone suggested. She had a firm grip for a woman. He didn’t want to let her go, but she pulled her hand free to glance behind him at Guy, who had followed them, then frowned at Oscar ahead of them, already stepping through the door to the suite where Ramon waited with her friend.

“Do you have bodyguards?”

“It’s just a precaution.” They followed into the suite.

While Oscar inspected the room, Guy brought out his phone and sent a brief text—a request for a background check on both women no doubt. Helping Guy along, Henri introduced himself to the brunette, learning her name was Vera Phipps.

Aside from relying on men’s wallets rather than their own, Henri judged both women to be harmless. Vera sent a “Jackpot” look to Cinnia when a butler arrived to take their order, then she followed Oscar’s path through the room, trailing fingers on the low-slung sofa and chairs as she circled, glancing to the flat screen hung on the wall, and stepped onto the balcony for a quick sniff of the air off the Thames.

She came back just as quickly to fetch one of the swag bags from the coffee table. “Oh! A gold one! Everyone below got silver. And yours is bigger.”

“I hear that a lot,” Ramon said with a smirk, making Vera laugh throatily.

“I bet you do. May I look?” She batted her lashes suggestively.
Cinnia did not flirt so blatantly. She offered a demure “Thank you,” as the butler poured their champagne and moved outside to glance at the colored lights swirling on the water. In the middle of the river, the technicians on the float set off a test flare.

It was a warm evening without a breeze. Her gaze lifted to the sparkle of lights across the water and up to the stars.

“I’m surprised you stayed below as long as you did when you had this to retreat to,” she said as Henri padded out to join her. He was compelled. Drawn. It was strange and not something he would typically indulge. The strength of his attraction made him a little uncomfortable.

Below them, people began filing out to the outdoor lounge while the music followed them.

Ramon was the one who liked crowds. Henri preferred a quieter atmosphere, but he said smoothly, “Good thing we did or I wouldn’t have met you.”

Her snort was delicate, if disparaging. Most blondes with blue eyes played up the suggestion of vulnerable innocence in their coloring. Not Cinnia. Her vintage hairstyle framed her face in a waifish way, but her brows had a sharp, intelligent angle. Her lashes stayed low and her gaze watchful, not cynical, but not goggling or overly impressed by any of this.

He liked that sign of inner confidence and strength. It was compelling, sparking his curiosity. “You feel differently?”

“I feel this is a well-oiled machine you two are operating.” She flicked her glance to the plate of canapés that appeared like magic on the glass table next to them.

“I would call that distrustful,” he said, waiting until the server had gone to swing his gaze back to hers. “If I didn’t think you two were running a similar routine. I’ll call it hypocritical instead.”

Her blue gaze flashed to his, but inside the suite, Vera was laughing at something Ramon had said. The two were meshing like cogs rolling against one another to turn out a foregone conclusion. Cinnia’s mouth tightened.

“Unable to deny it?” he taunted gently.

“You approached us,” she reminded with enough pique to amuse him.

“I was invited.”

“I didn’t mean to stare.” Her gaze returned to the view, chin coming up.

It had been more than a stare. She had smiled at him.

He watched with fascination as the fringe across her breasts quivered under an indignant breath. He would bet her cheeks were pink if the light was high enough to tell.

“I doubt I’m the first to be curious about the pair of you. You make a fetching couple.” Her smile was pure aspartame.

Her eyes, however, were a spun-sugar-blue. That was unmistakable as a huge white light swirled down from a helicopter, rousing the crowd below into cheering.

Her beauty gave him a sudden kick in the chest. It wasn’t a trick of makeup because she wore very little. The requisite eyeliner made her eyes stand out, but she’d only darkened her lashes a little. They weren’t lengthened with false ones like so many women wore these days. A shimmery blue streaked across her lids, but otherwise her features were clean and her skin fine and creamy.

“Did you really know it was me who looked back at you, or is that an assumption? Because it usually takes people months, even years to tell us apart.” It was easy once a person realized Henri was left-handed and Ramon right, or that Henri tended to speak French as his default while Ramon preferred Spanish, but few noticed those details.

“You are remarkably alike, but…” She glanced into the suite, to where Ramon was holding open the designer bag, listening politely to Vera wax in delight over the contents. They usually let their mother pick over the contents of those bags, then handed the rest to their PAs, but Henri was just as happy to let these women take them home.

He took advantage of Cinnia’s distraction to glance at his phone. The bullet points backed up what he’d already assumed. Her mother was well-born, but the family was broke. Cinnia worked for a wealth management firm and was listed on their website as an intern, filing and fetching coffee, he assumed. The only risk Cinnia Whitley posed was financial and he was quite sure he could afford her.

He tucked his phone away, irritated to note she was still eyeing his brother, brows pulled together in consternation.

“But?” he prompted, having to stand close to be heard over the music below.

“I don’t know. I don’t read auras or anything like that, but… Never mind.” She flashed him another look, this one self-conscious.

Sexually aware?

“That’s interesting.” His annoyance evaporated, replaced by intensified attraction. He leaned his elbow on the rail so he was even closer to her, edging into her space, liking the way she tried to quell a little shiver. She smelled like roses and tropics and something earthy that further turned him on.

“Wh-what is?” She was trying to look blasé, but he knew the signs of physical magnetism. There was a pulse beating fast in her throat, but it wasn’t fear. She wasn’t moving away. She was skimming her gaze across his shoulders and down his chest.

Chemistry was such a wonderful thing. He didn’t move, allowing the primal signals to bounce between them, stimulating him and heightening his senses. Sex was the cheapest and best high in the world, as far as he was concerned.

“You react to me, but not to him.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Didn’t you? My mistake.”

“You are mistaken,” she assured him hotly. “Whatever you’re thinking about me—us—and why we came up here, forget it.”

She wasn’t used to being so attracted to the men she exploited, he surmised. Poor thing. This must be very disconcerting for her. With that reserved personality, he bet she usually did quite well at stringing a man along. Was she afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold out with him until she had squeezed all she could from him?

“I’m thinking you’re here to watch the fireworks. What did you think I was thinking?”

She spun back to the view, setting her chin.

He smiled. “Listen.” He very lightly stroked the back of his bent finger down her bare arm, entranced when goose pimples chased the same path.

She shot him a look that was startled and uncertain, quickly rubbing the bumps away.

“I don’t have to work this hard to get a woman to sleep with me. This is how I live.” He waved his champagne glass at the opulence around them. “Enjoy it without feeling obligated.”

“You won’t expect anything after?” she scoffed.

“By ‘anything,’ do you mean that?” He thumbed to where Vera was on tiptoes inside the suite, painting herself against Ramon, lips firmly locked over his.

Cinnia made a pained noise and looked out across the river again. As strategies went, her friend was overplaying her hand.

“I shall remain hopeful,” Henri drawled.

“Yes, you will remain that way,” Cinnia assured him.

He hid a silent laugh behind the glass he lifted to his lips, deciding he wanted her quite badly and was willing to pay whatever it cost. He respected people who knew what they were worth.

But he only said, “Don’t make promises unless you can keep them, chéri.”

~ * ~

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