Dani Collins's Blog, page 39

His Christmas Miracle - Intro Price Ending Soon

The price for His Christmas Miracle goes up November 3rd.

Want to save even more? Scroll down for a deal on the first four in the series. (Hint: boxed set!)

All of my books can be read as stand-alones, but His Christmas Miracle is Book Five in my Love In Montana series. Scroll down for a deal on the boxed set containing the first four books.

Want to know what you're in for? Here are some early reviews:

Early Reviews

"I fell in love with this series from the start." ~ Margaret, Netgalley

"His Christmas Miracle (Love in Montana, Book 5) read well as a stand-alone, so do not let it saying it is book 5 deter you if you haven’t had the opportunity to read the first 4 books. This is a fun Christmas story in true Marietta style." ~ 5 stars, Amazon Reviewer

"This one had me in tears, both the sad, the wishful and the happy tears that only a really good story that touches the heart can produce. I absolutely loved this couple and their romance. It’s a story that I know I’ll be re-reading for many Christmas seasons to come." ~ Marsha, Keeper Bookshelf - Read Marsha's entire review here.

"This lovely Christmas read about family and love and togetherness brings all the good bits of the festive season into a warm hug of a tale... The whole thing is irresistible with a romance that grows steadily throughout and characters that completely won my heart. Throw in the advent calendar and you’re left with a delightful Christmas read that’s packed with warmth and feelings of goodness. Definitely one of my favorite winter reads so far this year." ~ Book Gannet

Stocking Stuffer

Don't forget, His Christmas Miracle contains a Stocking Stuffer!

The story is built around an Advent calendar of activities. I had a designer create one you can download, print, colour and assemble with your little elves as you countdown to Christmas. The link is in the back of the book which you can purchase here:

Amazon

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

Book Trailer

Watch the book trailer for His Christmas Miracle.

Love In Montana

All of my books can be read as stand-alones, but His Christmas Miracle is Book Five in my Love In Montana series. (Or Book Six. Scorch ties into this series, but takes place in Glacier Creek, not Marietta.)

Book One: Hometown Hero

Book Two: Blame The Mistletoe

Book Three: The Bachelor's Baby

Book Four: His Blushing Bride

Book Four and a half: Scorch

Book Five: His Christmas Miracle (releases Oct 27, 2016)

Save - Buy The Boxed Set

Buy A Year Of Love In Marietta and you'll receive the first four books for $4.99*

*double-check price at time of purchase

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

Want to know more about my books? Join my newsletter. As a welcome gift, you'll receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my reader group.

Bites Of Books - His Christmas Miracle

The day I turned in His Christmas Miracle, my career as a published author turned thirty books old. I'm celebrating the milestone by offering a taste of each of my books in a series of blog posts I'm calling Bites Of Books. Enjoy!

All of my books can be read as stand-alones, but His Christmas Miracle is Book Five in my Love In Montana series. (Or Book Six. Scorch ties into this series, but takes place in Glacier Creek, not Marietta.)

In His Christmas Miracle, Quincy discovers he has a four-year-old son when he is handed custody of Atlas. He's out of his depth and hires Nicki as temporary nanny. Here they are ice skating at Miracle Lake. They've just stopped for cocoa.

~ * ~

They sat on the bench to sip it, watching the skaters. Petra and Flynn were goofing around, hugging and spinning together, laughing and nearly falling, very obviously in love.

Would that have been her if she had stayed in Glacier Creek? She hadn’t loved Corbin like that. That was the problem. He’d been sweet and kind, but she had thought herself destined for something greater. Not just fame, but something more epic on the love scale. She had known, way deep down, that what she had with him wasn’t the kind of bond that would withstand everything her idealistic self had thought she could achieve.

“Momma skated good,” Atlas said, gaze on the crowd.

“Did she?” Her arm went around him before she thought about it, sliding him tight into her side. “You must have skated with her a lot, since you’re so good at it.”

He looked up with his watery blue eyes and nodded. The corners of his mouth trembled.

“You know what I think, Atlas?” Her throat filled with sand. Her heart grew weighed with it. “I think you had a really good mom. It’s okay that you miss her.”

He nodded, chin crinkling, and turned his face into her jacket.

Nicki swallowed and set aside her cup, taking his to set it away too. Then wrapped both her arms around the boy and held him tight.

Quincy sat on the other side of the bench, leaning his elbows on his thighs, his cardboard cup dangling loosely between his hands. His profile was drawn and tight, anguished if you looked closely enough.

You have a really good dad, too, Atlas. She rubbed the boy’s back, tilting her head over his woolen hat, not saying it aloud because it wasn’t the time, but she wished on the miracle waters below them for Atlas to see the potential in his relationship with his father.

She wished for Quincy to find it easier to show his son how he felt.

“Oh, Atlas,” Petra said, skating up and crouching before the boy. “What happened? Did you fall?”

Atlas hiccupped and peeked at her, shaking his head.

“He’s just sad,” Nicki said, still running a soothing hand up and down the boy’s back. “That happens sometimes.”

Petra made a sympathetic noise. “Do you want to skate with me? Would that cheer you up?” She offered her hand, trying to coax him off the bench.

Atlas shook his head, rubbing his hat askew against Nicki’s jacket. “I wanna skate wiff my dad.” He pushed his hat out of the way and looked over at Quincy.

Surprise blanked Quincy’s face. He quickly recovered and said, “Sure. Now?”

Atlas nodded and accepted Quincy’s hand to help him slide off the bench, then let go, determined to be independent while his blades were on the ice. Before he took off, though, he looked way up at Quincy and said, “You skate good too.”

Nicki had to clutch her heart back into her chest and blink back tears.

“Everything okay?” Petra asked, concern wrinkling her brow as she looked from the departing Atlas and Quincy to what must be a very emotive expression on Nicki’s face.

“It will be. I think.” Pretty sure. Thank you Miracle Lake.

~ * ~

His Christmas Miracle contains a Stocking Stuffer!

Stocking Stuffer!

The story is built around an Advent calendar of activities. I had a designer create one you can download, print, colour and assemble with your little elves as you countdown to Christmas. The link is in the back of the book which you can purchase here:

Amazon

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

Watch the book trailer for His Christmas Miracle.

Want to know more about my books? Join my newsletter. As a welcome gift, you'll receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my reader group.

Bites Of Books - Taken By The Raider

I recently completed and submitted my thirtieth book. I'm celebrating by offering a taste from each one. Enjoy!

Some like it hot, so I'm giving you a bite from from one of my spicy books today. (The excerpt is safe for work, though!)

Taken By The Raider is a bad boy short. If you like the hotter reads, I'm including links at the bottom to all the rest of my super-hot books. Here's their first kiss, but it's a reunion story so, you know, not really their first kiss.

To catch you up: Griffen was Aubrey's boss, they had an affair and here she confronts him about a take-over of her new employer's company. Aubrey is recovering from walking pneumonia, not that Griffen knows that yet. He thinks she's sleeping with Drake, her new boss, and has been sent to 'negotiate' his backing down from the take-over.

~ * ~

Griffen remembered every little signal of desire she had ever projected. He had injected them like heroin—all those parted lips and panting breaths and quivering lashes. The pebbled nipples and soft swallows. The dampness he would bet every last cent he owned was showing on her French lingerie under her skirt.

Her posture made tiny adjustments, shoulders softening, neck exposing a fraction more, pheromones releasing between them so they started to feel drunk. He wasn’t imagining it. She was staring at his mouth like it was her last chance at salvation.

He didn’t even have to touch her. He started to lean in and she met him, releasing a little sobbing noise as she stepped forward and dug fingertips into his shoulders, came up on tiptoes and crushed her mouth under his.

These plump, bee-stung lips of hers haunted his dreams. He claimed them without reservation, hooking a hand behind her neck and feasting.

Then, as he felt her surrender, he straightened off the desk and pulled her into his body, relishing the press of her full breasts, the soft give of her stomach against his wood, the way she leaned in as though too weak to stand.

He didn’t know what it was about this woman that drew him so inexorably. Her fastidious demeanor, her cool intelligence, her sharp wit? The way she was wound up tight most of the time, but brought all that same passion to bed? All of it made for a heady package. And this—the way she shivered under the stroke of his hands like he gave her untold pleasure. She made him feel like a god.

It had been way too long.

He was a pillar of want, ready to turn and push her back onto his desk the way he had dozens of times before. The return to the familiar fostered both a laugh of triumph and a kick of danger.

He had made it easy for her to leave. He had been feeling stifled by that search in her eyes for something deeper, something he wasn’t capable of, so he’d sent a message that she needed to adjust her expectations.

Her quitting had blindsided him.

He had told himself it didn’t matter. Sex was available anywhere with anyone. It didn’t have to be her.

But he hadn’t found another woman who did this to him. She licked at his tongue and moaned and rubbed her pelvis into his with invitation, making the world recede so all he wanted was to penetrate.

Unless this was manipulation.

Ah, hell, he was forgetting this wasn’t a social visit. He had gone after Cutting Edge, confident she would show up and offer herself. Here she was and here they were.

But he wasn’t a man who borrowed or shared. He took. Owned.

She really should have remembered that about him.

Pulling back was an effort, but he did it. His nostrils flared to take in as much of her scent as he could. Better than perfume. Spring wind and tropical shampoo and her. All pressed up against him like she’d been ironed onto his shirt front.

She fluttered her eyes open, lips parted and shiny as she panted to catch her breath. He loved that look. She wore it when she was coming back from orgasm.

Confusion dimmed her golden-brown eyes. Recognition.

Regret?

She started to pull away, but he tightened his arms, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.

“Call him.” He sounded like a barbarian, voice guttural. “Tell him it’s over. Then we’ll get back to ‘negotiating.’”

“Let go,” she insisted, and pushed with more determination, but in a weak way that was a mixed signal.

He reluctantly loosened his grip and she staggered against the edge of the desk, leaning there, head hanging, forehead in her palm.

“Forgot about him, did you?” He was trying for mockery, but he listened intently for confirmation.

He had to fight the urge to yank her back, feeling barely this side of civilized as he wondered whether the good doctor provoked that same incendiary reaction in her.

Going after Cutting Edge was supposed to be a lark. Griffen was asserting his dominance for the simple reason that he hated to lose to anyone. Aubrey had taken her talents elsewhere, both in bed and out, and he still hadn’t found suitable replacements. That was annoying so he had arrogantly set out to prove he could get her back, both professionally and personally. He hadn’t counted on how much it would mean to him.

“Why—” She lifted her head to glare at him like their sexual explosion had surprised her.

How could it? It had always been like this.

“Why do I react to you like that?”

“Why do you resent it?” Then, because the idea pleased him so much, he asked, “Am I correct in assuming he doesn’t make you feel the same?”

Her expression blanked and he almost thought she was going to say, Who?

He was about to leap on that, but she winced and her hand went to her brow again. She struggled, expression growing distressed.

He felt a tug on his conscience, but made himself ignore it. “Call him.”

“I can’t do this, Griffen.” Her voice was so faint he barely heard her.

“Break up with him? Why the hell not?” He unconsciously shifted his weight into a balanced battle stance, mind fracturing with responses to whatever reply she gave.

“I can’t—” Her voice hit a wall and her gaze lost focus. Her hand fell like it was an object she discarded. She blinked, white lips parting, trying to say something while her face drained of what little color had been there, eyelids fluttering—

She was passing out.

He swore, leaping forward to catch her.

~ * ~

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

Do you like hot reads? Also check out:

Mastering Her Role
Playing The Master (Kindle Unlimited exclusive)
The Secret In Room 823

Want to be the first to see an excerpt of an upcoming book? Join my newsletter! You'll auto-magically receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my subscribers.

Sign Up For Your Stocking Stuffer!

In the next few days, my newsletter subscribers are going to receive an early Christmas present. Sign up now to be one of them.

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

The link to download this cool little Christmas craft is in the back of His Christmas Miracle, but as a thank you to my subscribers, I'll give them the link without purchase.

I got the idea for this craft while writing His Christmas Miracle. Quincy learns he has a four year old son when he's given custody of the boy. He hires Nicki as a temporary nanny through the holidays. She realizes right away the two need to bond and creates an Advent calendar of Christmas activities.

When I began outlining the book, I wrote all the characters' activities on an actual calendar. Then, as Nicki began putting hers together, I realized it might be something nonfiction people would like to do with their family as they countdown to Christmas.

Here's some pictures of the mock ups as I worked with the designer.

If you'd like to be one of the first to get this download, please sign up to my newsletter here:

Join Dani's Newsletter

.

His Christmas Miracle is a sweet and sexy story that will melt your heart. Check out the book trailer:

Watch the book trailer for His Christmas Miracle.

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Have a great weekend!

Bites Of Books - The Bachelor's Baby

I recently completed and submitted my thirtieth book. I'm celebrating by offering a taste from each one. Enjoy!

When I wrote Blame The Mistletoe, I had Blake's sister Meg surprise him (them!) for Christmas and I knew right away I needed a story for her, even though she was off in Chicago. Fortunately, she returned in the spring for the bachelor auction fundraiser. Oh, I had fun with her and Linc!

Here he confronts her after she sets him up to be a prize in the auction.

~ * ~

“Not funny,” a male voice growled behind her as Meg reached for a small box off a shelf in the hardware store.

His voice really was a turn on, all heavy and faintly abrasive, yet warm and rounded. Like good scotch, or an heirloom quilt.

He’d still been talking to Lily when Meg had left the grocery store, his neck red, his scowl a firmly fixed mask.

Meg didn’t know Lily that well, but had met her through Andie Bennet, who was made of awesome. She trusted Andie’s judgment, even though Lily was rumored to have been a stripper in another life and had only been in town a few years. Meg hadn’t lived here full-time since leaving for college and took all such gossip with a grain of salt.

Besides, despite Lily’s sometimes acerbic sense of humor, she struck Meg as the biggest heart of gold walking, especially given the fundraiser she was spearheading for Molly Dekker. Molly was another sweetheart—a kindergarten teacher and single mom whose only son had been injured last fall. Meg had genuinely wanted to help once she heard what Lily was trying to do for Molly.

The fact it had allowed her to lob another snowball in Linc’s direction was icing on the cake.

“What do you mean?” Meg asked with an innocent glance at him that actually made her heart skip as she took in his folded arms and planted feet. He was genuinely mad.

She cleared her throat and made herself face him, even though her blood stung a warning through her veins. At the same time, the worst of her girlish hormones fluttered, filling her with nervous excitement and giddy warmth.

“Why did you set that woman on me?” he asked.

“Lily? She asked me about Blake. She was disappointed to hear he’s engaged. She asked if I could think of any other eligible bachelors in town. I said I had just met a perfect one-date wonder.” Blink. Blink. Blink.

These baby blues had pulled Meg from basement cable interviews of small time activists to a relief position with a syndicated station. She wasn’t afraid to use them.

Linc was really tall. And had perfected his glower of intimidation. She privately admitted he worked that like a hot damn, but she’d made a career for herself in what was still a world heavily seeded to men. Outwardly, she didn’t falter.

“Can you tell me if these are self-screwing?” She held up the box in her hand.

His scruffed beard seemed to bristle as his jaw hardened.

“Oh, you’ve got a handful of screw yourself,” he assured her.

She swallowed back a laugh, pretty sure that would get her into more trouble than she already stood in. Instead, she turned the box over in her hands. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages. “Maybe one nail would be simpler?”

“Why are you so pissed off?” he demanded.

“I’m not, I’m really not,” she insisted. “I think it’s funny.”

“You think tricking me into standing on a stage and have women bid on me like a stud bull is funny?”

“I didn’t think you’d agree,” she defended. “It was an impulse to mention you, since you walked right by us and you’re, I assume, single?”

He narrowed his eyes.

Seriously? He didn’t see the humor in this?

“Look, I just...” She couldn’t explain it. Not without getting into how she’d let go of something today. Found herself again. She felt cheerful and sassy. She wanted to flirt. He drew her.

But she’d made him mad.

“Come on,” she cajoled. “It’s not my fault you didn’t say no. It’s a good cause,” she tried.

“You don’t even know me.” His tone said, It was a dick move.

She had to look away. Her cheeks began to sting. She suddenly felt very gauche and juvenile. Rejection was always a tough one for her and all she’d wanted was to keep playing with him. Now he hated her.

“I’m out of practice,” she allowed quietly, genuinely sorry. “Honestly, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Practice?” he repeated. “Doing what?”

Seriously? She lifted a gaze that let him see how uncomfortable she was, while scolding him for being obtuse.

He let out a choke of disbelieving laughter. “This is you trying to get a man’s attention? Are you twelve?”

She looked away, frowning, trying to hide that her eyes began to burn along with the back of her throat. Pointing Lily at him had been meant in fun, but it was becoming personal and hurtful. She felt twelve. Hell, she felt seven, realizing for the first time what it really meant to be adopted: that your ‘real’ mom and dad hadn’t wanted you.

“Look—” she started to say, ready to apologize, but only saw his back. He was walking away.

~ * ~

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

Want more? Read these excerpts posted as #SampleSundays when the book came out in May of 2015.

The Bidding War
First Kiss!
More than a kiss...

Here are the Love In Montana books in order:

Book One: Hometown Hero

Book Two: Blame The Mistletoe

Book Three: The Bachelor's Baby

Book Four: His Blushing Bride

Book Four and a half: Scorch*

Book Five: His Christmas Miracle (releases Oct 27, 2016)

*Scorch takes place in Glacier Creek. Jacqui is friends with Nicki from His Christmas Miracle. It's a full length book.

Want to be the first to see an excerpt of an upcoming book? Join my newsletter! You'll auto-magically receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my subscribers.

Harlequin's Mega Sale!

Harlequin has discounted hundreds of books in their backlist, along with these twelve of mine. Stock up on hot reads for the coming cold nights.

Bites Of Books - Bought By Her Italian Boss

When I completed and submitted my thirtieth book, I decided to celebrate by offering a taste from each one in a series of blog posts. Enjoy!

I adore this cover. So sexy. They're in the elevator scene, which I've (partially) excerpted below. They even used this image on the Mills & Boon Modern cover, which isn't always the case. Check it out:

~ * ~

“Really?” she derided. “I thought I just asked you not to lie to me? Because you’ve never once acted like you wanted anything to do with me.”

“Ha!” He punched the side of his fist into the red emergency button, stalling the elevator with a jar and a short buzz, making her stagger and reach for the rail. “The very fact that you can’t read the signs tells me how ill-suited you are for an affair. But, just so we’re crystal clear, cara, I don’t care about that either. I want you anyway.”

She couldn’t look away from him, fascinated by the way his gold-brown eyes shot glittering shards of bronze.

He stepped closer, setting one hand then the other on the wall next to her head, leaning in. “I wanted you when you smiled across the lobby and you were already under suspicion, so I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I wanted you when I looked at this…” His boiling metal gaze slid down her front, scalding her. “And I knew every other man in the world was looking at you, too.” His gaze flashed up, bright and piercing. “I want to kill each and every one of them,” he added tightly. “Especially Jensen.”

Her knuckle bumped his side and she realized her hand had lifted of its own volition, moving to press against her chest and keep her heart inside its cage. It slammed hard and fast.

He looked at her splayed fingers. “Scared?”

“I honestly didn’t think you…” Her voice trailed off as his expression hardened with accusation.

“How could you not know? You look at me constantly. I feel it. How could you not be aware that I’m watching you, too?” He picked up her hand and pressed it to his own chest, where his heart punched against her palm. “You felt this in the car, when just my touch made you scream with pleasure. How could you not know it’s the same for me?”

Emotion pressed at the backs of her eyes and thickened her throat.

He watched her struggle to swallow and cupped his hand under her jaw, palm against her throbbing artery, thumb caressing the hollow below her ear.

“The only thing holding me back, mia bella, is your indecision. Have you made up your mind yet? Do you want cheap, physical gratification?” The bitterness in his tone scraped at something in her, making her squirm in a kind of guilt.

She had hurt him with that? She searched his eyes, the windows into his soul. “What else would it be?” she asked in a near whisper.

His lips hardened and his brow lowered in consternation. “I don’t know. But it would be a hell of a lot more than that.”

She lifted her hand to the side of his face, drew him in and pressed a kiss of apology onto his mouth. It was perfect and sweet and healing.

And a mistake.

With a moan from her and a tortured groan from him, they laced themselves together, mouths opening with instant passion, dragged together like magnets meeting its attractor. His fingers dug into her back, her bottom, crushing her close. She arched into his steely body, loving his strength and the smell of him and that firm evidence of arousal that was not purely incidental, but his reaction to her.

He pressed her into the wall with his body, stilling the rock of her hips with a hard pin of his own. “You want me,” he said against her lips. It was a demand for confirmation.

“I do,” she admitted with an ache of helpless need.

“Now?”

“Wh—what?” She opened her eyes to see a fiery passion in him that was barely controlled. This man who seemed to have command of the entire world was so affected by her, he was looking at her with a kind of desperation. She thought she could feel each pulse pound in him, rocking his entire being.

“Here?” she asked. She was achy and heavy and ready. The thought of waiting until they were upstairs— It was too far.

This was insanity. Complete insanity.

“No?” He shuffled closer, feet between hers, one hand going to the slit in her skirt, finding her bare thigh and stroking across her skin like magic. “If not here, say so now.”

~ * ~

Spoiler Alert: She doesn't say 'no.'

Amazon

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Want more? Read another excerpt from Bought By Her Italian Boss in this #SampleSunday post , published when the book released in Jul 2016.

Fun Fact: Bought By Her Italian Boss links to Proof Of Their Sin. The heroes, Paolo and Vito are cousins.

If you missed it, you can read the Bites Of Books for Proof Of Their Sin here.

Want to be the first to see an excerpt of an upcoming book? Join my newsletter! You'll auto-magically receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my subscribers.

Bites Of Books - His Blushing Bride

I recently completed and submitted my thirtieth book. I'm celebrating by offering a taste from each one. Enjoy!

From the moment I heard Liz, in Blame The Mistletoe, mention her brother worked at the family spa to put himself through college, I knew I wanted him to have his own story.

Bastian comes to Marietta for Liz's wedding. He's half convinced she's making a mistake, or at the very least, moving too fast. He has no intention of ever marrying himself. And then he meets Piper.

Here she meets him for the first time.

~ * ~

Whoa. Who was that?

Pulling into the driveway of her parents’ house, Piper jammed the car into park and stared at the guy leaning on the veranda rail. He wore a white T-shirt, faded jeans, and sneakers. He was reading the romance novel she’d left on the table between the two lounge chairs where she’d sat for five minutes and five pages while eating a breakfast wrap, catching this morning’s sun.

He lifted his head and Piper heard her own breath come in on a sharp inhale.

Wow. Good-bye virginity.

He was thirty-ish, muscled and tanned, had dirty blond hair that was overlong and shaggy, making him look very devil-may-care. Dark golden stubble coated his square jaw beneath hollow cheeks. When did the burgling industry start recruiting through modeling agencies?

Not bothering to pull into the garage since she had to run out again right away, she opened her door and set one foot on the ground, but kept the car between herself and the stranger. Marietta was about the safest place in the world, but she’d picked up some habits of caution at college in Billings. Her parents weren’t home and their neighbor was elderly. Better safe than sorry.

“Hi,” she greeted.

Inside the house, Charlie barked, letting her know he’d heard her pull in.

The stranger lifted one corner of his mouth in a friendly grin. “You must be Piper. You look just like your mother.”

“Do I?” She cocked her head, still cautious. “How do you know her?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his expression before his grin widened fractionally, making her feel like he was laughing at her. “I met Arlene two weeks ago, in Panama. With your father, Henry. They said I could stay in their house if I walked and fed the dog.” He thumbed toward the house, then came down the steps with his hand extended. “I’m Bastian. They said they were going to email you to let you know.”

“They did. Half an hour ago. It read like you wouldn’t be here for at least a week.” She hid her irritation as she stepped out of the car to slam the door and come around the hood.

Wow and wow again. He was tall and such nice shoulders—her fatal weakness. The line of his collarbone was even with the top of her head, filling her vision with his well-defined chest under that layer of damp, white cotton.

All she could think was the universe had picked up her call on the first ring and sent Mr. Fantasy in response. Which only made her feel obvious and juvenile as she tried to catch her breath. Shut that down right now, she told herself, trying to keep her cool, but honestly. He dazzled.

“They would have sent it last week,” he said, amusement dancing in his blue-green eyes.

Seriously. Who in real-life had eyes the shade of Caribbean waters? She couldn’t look away, they were so gorgeous.

“We met in a little town where the internet was really sketchy,” he explained. “The email might not have actually sent until they moved on to a bigger center and they had a decent signal.”

Terrific, she silently muttered, watching his mouth twitch. He knew exactly what was going on with her. He probably hypnotized women all the time. He was probably bored by her reaction.

“They said Sebastian, but you said Bastian?” She tried to pretend she wasn’t buzzing with electrified energy as she shook his hand. The contact actually made her pulse jump. Good grief, this was embarrassing. Since when did her hormones swarm for couch-surfing backpackers?

“Sebastian Bloom, but call me whatever you want.” He had a strong grip and wasn’t shy about letting his blue eyes roam.

When his gaze hung up on the right side of her face, she lost her comeback and pulled away, shifting her gaze to the open door of the car so she wouldn’t see the, What is that? question form behind his eyes.

“Welcome to Marietta.” She ignored the way his callused palm left a lingering impression on her hand and she moved back to the car to gather her things. “We’ll go in through the back—oh!”

He had followed and was really close behind her. He took her school bag from her shoulder as she straightened and she stumbled against the car in surprise, flooded with a fresh rush of excitement. “What are you doing?

The corners of his beautiful mouth deepened. “Helping.”

He took her insulated coffee mug from her lax grip and stepped back, leaving her with the car keys and enough room to swing the door shut before she led him to where the backyard was fenced in six-foot cedar planking. It was her father’s effort to keep the deer from jumping in to decimate her mother’s garden, but Charlie had turned out to be the better deterrent.

Her back and bottom tingled as she walked in front of Bastian. Her breasts felt heavy and achy, making her blush at how physically she was responding to just being in his vicinity. This was so weird.

“Don’t you have luggage?” she asked over her shoulder as she held the wooden gate, trying to act normal, but he came through her space in a faint cloud of masculine scent and stallion power. Her knees felt weak, for heavens’ sake!

“Stolen. In Dallas, if you can believe it. I made it six months across South America, but lost everything fifteen minutes after I hit American soil. I was holding my wallet and passport and was wearing these clothes, but I had just tucked my phone into a pocket on the backpack so I lost that, too. Everything was saved to the cloud, but still.”

“Bummer.” Awesome. She was regressing to twelve. Try again, Piper. “Marietta seems an odd destination from Panama,” she commented. “Do you have family here?” And therefore, why aren’t you staying with them instead of making me feel like an idiot?

“My sister is here. She’s getting married—”

“You are not related to NancyLynn Pruitt,” she charged, letting the wooden gate slam closed with a clank of its catch. She didn’t know all the Pruitts, but she would have remembered Sebastian Bloom if he’d grown up around here.

“Never heard of her. No, my sister is Liz Flowers. You might know my niece, Petra. You teach at the high school, don’t you?”

“Oh! Second flute and keyboard.” She had talked to Bella about how Petra would be a sort of mentor and was new to the area, too. It had seemed a good match.

Piper saw a vague resemblance in Bastian’s blond, blue-eyed California looks now. Darn it, why did he have to have such a nice family connection? Now she couldn’t help but warm to him on a more personal level.

“Your sister is marrying Blake Canon, isn’t she? I know who he is, but I’m friendlier with his sister, Meg.” Meg was yet another woman in town glowing with the joy of a fresh relationship.

“Yeah, she’s the reason I needed a place to stay. Moved back home, I guess, so there’s no room for me at the ranch. I’d rather be in town anyway. It was nice of your parents to offer their house.”

Piper couldn’t help pausing on the porch steps, not the least surprised her parents had done it and confident in their judgment. They wouldn’t have sent a creep to Marietta, let alone their own house where their daughter lived over the garage. Still, Piper thought it was curious. “How did they know you were coming here?”

He shrugged. “It was just one of those things where you hear an American accent in a cantina and get to chatting. They said they were from Marietta. I said, small world and that I was coming here for my sister’s wedding...”

She nodded and moved to set the key in the lock on the back door. “Brace yourself,” she warned and opened it.

Charlie came out in all his excited glory, never jumping, but he had to scramble a frantic, wiggling figure eight around both pairs of legs, bumping and nosing, tail whapping crazily against their legs while he moaned a prolonged greeting of whines and near-howls.

“Lab and spaniel?” Bastian guessed, bending to pat and make friends. Best friends. Charlie tried to lick Bastian’s fingers right off his hands.

“That’s our guess. He’s a rescue and so happy to have a home it’s ridiculous.” She gave Charlie a few jostles and rubs as he came over to her, scrubbing his ears and getting under his collar before she nudged him toward the stairs and the lawn. “Go, you goof. Work out your kinks. I’ve had to leave him inside the last few days. The neighbor is having some work done and he just stands at the fence and barks the whole time. But he should be fine until I get back in an hour or so?”

“Where are you going?”

That took her slightly aback. It must have shown. His mouth twitched again.

She was getting really tired of being laughed at. Especially by a guy who looked a little too old to be living like a broke student taking a gap year.

“I need some things,” he explained patiently. “Clothes. Groceries. Does it make sense to drop me off and I’ll shop while you run your errands? Your parents said I could use their car, but why waste the gas? Unless the store is close enough to walk?”

“Oh. Of course.” She supposed it was reassuring to know he planned to buy his own food, but she’d just been looking forward to time alone to pull herself together and quit acting like an infatuated teenager. “I mean, you could walk, but it’s a long walk back if you have a lot to carry. I can drop you. It’s on the way. Let me put my bag away and get changed.” And maybe stop babbling. Argh.

~ * ~

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

Want more? Read these excerpts posted as #SampleSundays when the book came out in May of 2015.

Bastian's Reaction to Piper
Bastian Flirts with Piper

Here are the Love In Montana books in order:

Book One: Hometown Hero

Book Two: Blame The Mistletoe

Book Three: The Bachelor's Baby

Book Four: His Blushing Bride

Book Four and a half: Scorch*

Book Five: His Christmas Miracle (releases Oct 27, 2016)

*Scorch takes place in Glacier Creek. Jacqui is friends with Nicki from His Christmas Miracle.

Want to be the first to see an excerpt of an upcoming book? Join my newsletter! You'll auto-magically receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my subscribers.

Bites Of Books - Scorch

I recently completed and submitted my thirtieth book. I'm celebrating by offering a taste from each one. Enjoy!

I jumped at the chance to join a series about a crew of smokejumpers. It had been a scary wildfire season here in BC and I was feeling a lot of love for brave, sexy firefighters.

Scorch ties into my Love In Montana series, but takes place in Glacier Creek. Jacqui's husband died fighting fires last year. Vin was best friends with her husband. Vin considers her off limits, but they're sharing a house and she's pushing him to the end of his rope.

~ * ~

His gut tightened and the vague tingle at the tops of his thighs became more intent.

“You are playing with fire,” he warned. “And you are not trained.”

She came to him. She closed the few feet between them and lifted that chin even higher so she held his are-you-serious stare with an I-so-am one of her own.

He held his ground, not just because she was laughably tiny and no real threat. He hadn’t fought in years, but he knew how. Backing down meant giving in and he wasn’t about to let her get away with this. Still, he was a teensy bit unnerved that she was acting this bold.

Because she didn’t know what he wanted, deep down where he let it smolder under soil and ash, hidden even from himself most of the time. His soul was a bottomless pit that would never be filled. If she was offering sex to fill it, she’d better be prepared because he needed lots of it.

Otherwise, she ought to back down. Now.

She faltered briefly and his conscience pinched. Then she came further into his space with a decisive step and an invisible energy like the static before a lightning strike. It stoked the glow in his belly and made the ember in his groin burn hotter. Heat licked up to fill his expanding torso.

Her hands touched his chest, scorching, making his pecs flex with pleasure so sharp it hurt. Her weight came against him as she went on tiptoe and her hand pressed the back of his head, asking him to come down to the lips she parted in invitation.

Don’t. Off limits. Just friends. Vulnerable.

But his senses were inundated by the feel of her, undeniably feminine despite the subtleness of her curves. She smelled like his shampoo again. Like him. His.

He slid his hands under her butt and picked her up, liking the squeeze of her legs around his waist as he lifted her. Her arms snaked around his shoulders as she mashed her mouth to his.

He staggered as the sensation of kissing her slammed into him, as though she’d thrown herself at him and knocked him off balance. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he sat.

Not this bed. He hitched himself off the side to slide to the floor.

She folded her knees and straddled his lap as they reached the carpet, but they kept kissing. She was trying to devour him, almost frantic in the way she pulled at his lips with her own.

“Slow down,” he ordered, breaking away to cup her head.

Her mouth was pouted, her cheeks bright with color, her eyes so bright and glassy they made his sting.

“I really want to kiss you,” she said on an anxious pant. “So bad.”

A quake went through him. A collision of honor and deprivation. She needed this as much as he did.

Nice rationalization. But he couldn’t deny her.

He tilted his head and drew her closer, kissing her the way he had wanted to kiss her for— Damn, he didn’t want to admit how long ago the seeds of this fantasy had been planted. Standing in this yard watching a truck pour concrete for the foundation of this house, maybe.

He shook off the memory and embraced the now. Just once, just for a few minutes, he was going to immerse himself in the thing he’d been longing for. He was going to have it.

And it was heaven. Her soft lips parted generously under his. Her moan vibrated in her throat. Her tongue met and played with his. Her hands stroked his shoulders under his sleeves as he luxuriated and ravaged, tried to be gentle, but was driven to be thorough.

Once. He was only going to kiss her this once. He swore.

~ * ~

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

Want more? You can read the first two chapters of Scorch in this newsletter.

Scorch takes place in Glacier Creek, but links to my Love In Montana series. Piper and Bastian from His Blushing Bride make a visit, so I'm calling it book four and a half in this series.

Here are the Love In Montana books in order:

Book One: Hometown Hero

Book Two: Blame The Mistletoe

Book Three: The Bachelor's Baby

Book Four: His Blushing Bride

Book Four and a half: Scorch

Book Five: His Christmas Miracle (releases Oct 27, 2016)

Want to be the first to see an excerpt of an upcoming book? Join my newsletter! You'll auto-magically receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my subscribers.

#SampleSunday - His Christmas Miracle

Check out Chapter One of His Christmas Miracle, then read on for the stocking stuffers I've arranged just for you!

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

I'm so excited about this book. It's been really hard to wait for all the pieces to fall into place before I started talking about this book and everything that goes with it.

First, here's the blurb:

Quincy Ryan was just handed custody of a son he didn’t know existed. He knows how to be an architect, not a dad, so he looks to his own father for guidance, but that means moving with Pops to Marietta, Montana. Quincy knows he has to get over his shock and give Atlas the Christmas he deserves, but how? He needs a miracle.

Struggling actress Nicki Darren will take any job as Christmas approaches, even babysitting for a withdrawn, workaholic, single father. She identifies with four-year-old Atlas. She also lost her mom as a child and hasn’t had a real Christmas since.

An Advent calendar of activities soon has Nicki pulling Quincy out of the house to get a tree and ice skate with his son. She wants Quincy to open his heart to the boy, but as they countdown to Christmas Eve, she begins to fall for the Ryan men herself. If only the miracle Quincy is looking for included her…

SampleSunday

Since the story is built around an Advent Calendar, I used the dates as chapter headings. Chapter One is actually titled...

November 30th

Nicole Darren pulled her hatchback into the address on the outskirts of Marietta and let out a relieved breath. That drive through icy passes and swirling snowflakes had been a nightmare—and she had splurged on good snow tires.

Well, she had spent her father’s money on them, but she wouldn’t have arrived in one piece if she hadn’t. And she was going to pay him back.

Right after she landed this job.

With another cleansing breath, she tugged her hat onto her head, pulling hard enough to bring the pink-and-yellow tails under her chin, then tied them off. As she stepped outside, her nose pinched and her eyes watered, stung by the fierce, biting wind.

I missed you, too, Montana. Ugh. Maybe she should have waited until May to leave California.

After slamming her car door, she pocketed her keys, then zipped her consignment-store ski jacket, taking in the farmhouse as she started toward it. It was two stories with a single-story addition wrapped in a covered porch off to the left. The east side, maybe? She was terrible with directions, but she knew pretty when she saw it.

In the waning light of afternoon, surrounded by the blowing snow, the house looked surprisingly sweet. It was in good repair, obviously restored by loving hands that had a flair for “quaint”. She adored the bold eggplant with teal trim and yellow rails. On a sunny day, it would be bright and welcoming, making any passerby smile. There was even an old washtub next to the stairs, sleeping under a layer of snow, but with a few ice-coated, brown stalks poking through, promising to greet visitors with a riot of blooms come spring.

Delighted by the idea of working for someone with such a warm, artistic bend, she clomped up the steps, rang the bell, then looked for a broom to sweep her footprints.

The door opened and a man was backlit through the screen. She saw more silhouette than expression. He was tall and had wide, strapping shoulders beneath a white-and-blue striped button shirt. No hat, cowboy or otherwise. He wore a neatly trimmed beard the same color as his dark brown hair.

He did not look like he needed a nursing aide.

She smiled as if he were her new boss. “Am I at the right house? Are you Ryan Quincy? I’m Nicki Darren.”

“Quincy Ryan.” He started to push the screen toward her.

“I’m sorry.” She stepped back, then loosened her boots and stepped out of them, leaving them on the welcome mat as she entered. “I thought the recruitment site got it backward, and Ryan was your first name.”

“That happens a lot.” He didn’t smile. In fact, he was doing a great imitation of the arctic outflow wind that he locked outside as he closed the door behind her.

Now she was in the foyer and could properly see him, she realized he was really good looking. Her inner spinster warmed and fanned herself. The aspiring actress who had been around that many pretty boys for the last seven years said, Oh, please.

But he was really good looking. He was a head taller than she was, fit and trim with dark brown eyes, brows that were on the stern side, and a jaw that was wide enough to be strong. It was beautifully framed with stubble grown just long enough to make her want to touch his cheek, suspecting it was smooth, not scratchy. He was one of those quietly powerful types of men who were natural leaders because people couldn’t help but look up and defer to him.

At the same time, he gave off such an attitude of aloof superiority, she had to catch back an exasperated chuckle. She had left L.A. precisely to distance herself from this sort of arrogance, and to get back to being around real people who were nice to one another because it was the decent way to behave.

Do. Not. Blow. This.

“You have a beautiful home.” Compliments were always a good start, right? She tugged off her hat and flashed another friendly grin at him. Maybe her face hadn’t opened as many doors as she would have liked, but her smile usually prompted an answering one when she offered it.

“It’s not mine. My father grew up here and just bought it again. We had nothing to do with this.”

The jerk of his head disparaged the crown molding, the polished hardwood floors, and the glossy white wainscoting under cornflower-blue wallpaper with white polka dots. Each of the stair treads was carpeted in blue while the risers were painted white. She would bet any money the kitchen was buttercup yellow.

“I see.” She didn’t. She instantly loved everything about this house and wanted to tell him how lucky he was. She’d been sharing rooms with cockroaches and starving actors. She hadn’t had her own space in years, let alone anything so dollhouse perfect.

“I just drove in from California. That was a shock to the system.” She thumbed toward the window draped in white curtains held open with bands of blue. Outside, flakes continued to swirl in the dusk.

“It was like this in Philly. And all the way across.” He frowned as he led her into a living room where the furniture was off center on its area rug. Boxes were stacked against the wall. In the empty, adjoining dining room, a gray modular desk was coming together, a handful of pieces still wrapped in shrink film. “We got in late last night. I thought your resume showed a Montana address?”

“My father’s place. One way or another, I was giving up my room in L.A. Since Glacier Creek is where I was born…” She shrugged as she removed her jacket and draped it across her thighs as she lowered to perch on the sofa across from him. “It’s where I’m headed if I don’t take a job elsewhere.”

She tried to make it sound like she had options other than this one.

He took the wingback, seeming to weigh her words. Did he think she was dishonest? Misrepresenting? Her palms began to sweat. She needed this job so bad.

A laptop stood open on the coffee table. Thankfully, there was only one file folder beside it, with her name on it.

Don’t send me crawling back to Glacier Creek. Please.

She had left anything that didn’t fit in her hatchback in California, then had barely slept in Utah, afraid her few remaining possessions would be stolen overnight, even though the couple she had found through a B&B app had assured her their neighborhood was very safe. She hadn’t detoured to stay with her father and stepmother on her way here either. Telling them she was back in Montana could wait until she had aced this interview. That was what she kept telling herself.

If she didn’t get the job, well, she could already hear her stepmother, Gloria, saying, “I told you so.”

“You didn’t list previous experience.” Quincy Ryan lifted his gaze from studying her file. He sounded skeptical. Looked dubious.

“I completed my certification earlier this year and did a practicum at an assisted-living home in Santa Monica. I was able to stay on at the facility a few extra months to cover for someone on leave. I’ve been working in the field all this time.”

She had to force herself not to blurt the words out too fast, but she was anxious to impress on him that she wasn’t completely green. Squishing her palms together between her knees, she fought to keep her voice measured and warm.

“But the cost of living in California is, well, prohibitive. And I was ready for a change. Montana always felt like home, so when I saw this position, I was really excited. I love the idea of being back here.”

Too much enthusiasm? She didn’t know how to read that blank stare of his and kept getting distracted by the stark beauty of his sculpted features.

He dropped his attention back to the folder. “No experience with children, either.”

“Well, babysitting, of course. When I was a teenager.” Everyone had that, didn’t they? “I also have CPR and the first aid that was part of my training. Plus, I took an elective certificate on diet and nutrition, so I can prepare meals along with, you know, spoon-feeding if he isn’t feeding himself. But I understood from the posting that the boy is four and there were no specific health concerns. Is that right?”

His lips went tight. He kept his gaze on the open file folder in his hand. “Yes.”

“But there’s a senior who is diabetic?”

“My father. Yes. He has an insulin pump and takes blood pressure medication. If it were only him, I could monitor that myself, but with Atlas… It’s too much to ask my father to watch him all day, and I have to work.” His gaze came up, flat and unreadable. “The position is more nanny than nurse. Full days of child minding and housekeeping, cooking and laundry. Whatever they both need, every day until Christmas. Preschool starts in January. I have someone arranged to help out then.”

Whatever they need, not him. Something about that struck her, but she was concentrating more on keeping her hand from waving wildly in the air as the words, Pick me, crowded her throat. She didn’t care if it was only for a few weeks. She needed the money.

“Atlas is your son?”

“Yes.” He didn’t say it with as much conviction as she would have expected.

“And you’re not married?” She wasn’t being sexist, assuming his wife would take care of everyone, but he hadn’t mentioned a spouse.

“His mother and I weren’t together. She passed away last month. Car accident.”

“Oh.” Wow. She had a lot of questions about each of those bullet-point statements, but she was overcome with such a wave of empathy for little Atlas, her chest grew tight.

“I’m so sorry,” she said with deep sincerity. “I lost my mom when I was eleven. He must be having a very rough time.” Her eyes welled before she could even try to stop it, old loss hitting afresh. And it was coming up to Christmas, too.

She looked around for the tike, wanting to hug him. That was all she had wanted when she’d been in his shoes—for someone to hug her. A little love went a long way when your world had completely shattered.

“I, uh…” Quincy did the man-panic and quickly stood to snatch a box of tissues from where it poked from an open box. He offered it to her. “Here.”

“I’m sorry. I’m fine,” she hurried to insist, forcing an abashed smile as she quickly dabbed and pulled herself together. How to not make a great first impression. Sheesh.

It struck her that Quincy had only mentioned his father. “Your mother isn’t with you?”

“Gone twelve years.” His face spasmed very briefly, the first sign of emotion she’d seen in him. “Cancer. Hit me hard at twenty. I can’t imagine at four.” He didn’t look at her, only seemed to take great care centering her single-sheet resume in the crease of the folder.

“I’m so sorry.” She meant it.

Quincy lifted his gaze. They sat in the shadow of grief for two slow heartbeats while the disquiet in his expression eased.

Then, as if he remembered they were strangers, he quickly re-enshrined his thoughts and feelings into their tomb. He glanced away. When his gaze came back, it was cool and unreadable.

“What were you doing before taking your certification?” It seemed a deliberate change of topic.

“Deluding myself.” She went for good-natured self-deprecation to hide the fact she wanted to shrivel into a ball every time she confronted her spectacular failure in California. See, Gloria? I can act.

Quincy’s brows went up.

“I, uh, had aspirations to star in movies. Apparently, so does the rest of Montana and every other state besides.” She scratched her brow, shrugging off years of heartbreak and struggle as if they were inconsequential. They were. No one cared. Only her. “You can only survive on ramen noodles for so long, right? I was flat out told I was getting too old. I’m twenty-five.”

She still couldn’t believe those words had been spoken to her and railed on with the subdued outrage she’d been trying to exorcise since it happened.

“My agent said she was cutting her list down to people under twenty. She only wanted talent who had the potential to pay back the investment of her time. Basically, she was saying even if I landed a good part tomorrow, I was already over the hill. My chances of building a career had passed. Isn’t that horrible? I was already tired of living hand to mouth, but still.”

She had fought against giving up. She had fought against accepting reality, so Gloria wouldn’t be right.

She sighed, still blue, but determined to believe the universe had a plan. “What she said got me thinking, though. About people who are actually in their golden years and dismissed by society. I looked into jobs in nursing homes. Then, when I actually started volunteering with seniors… I didn’t realize how depressed I was from all those years of rejection.”

Her heart lightened just thinking about those early days. She’d wondered if she was being punked, she’d been so astonished by the change in attitude.

“People were happy to see me and eager to chat. They thanked me for the smallest things. Like taking their blood pressure or pouring a glass of water. It’s my job. Why would I need thanks for that? But it made me feel so good. Such a nice change. And I remembered that people used to be friendly and sincere back home, so I decided to move back here. I’m over-sharing, aren’t I?”

She halted as she realized how badly she was running on. Dear Lord, the man was a robot. Stare, stare, stare, like he was cataloguing her brain with his laser vision.

“I’m just saying that it feels good to do something that helps people. I took the training so I would have marketable qualifications and more opportunity, but I’m eager to work wherever and however I’m needed. That’s why I applied for this job, even though it’s temporary and involves more childcare than senior care.”

Even if it would only allow her to pay her father back for the tires when she saw him at Christmas. The ledger sheet between her and her father was heavily in the red on her side. Please let her start balancing it out and prove she was amounting to something.

“So…” She swallowed, unable to stand the suspense. “What do you think?”

*

He thought she was a parakeet.

Par for the course, Quincy supposed, since he was residing in a house colored up like a peacock.

He used his thumbnail to scratch the line of his beard at the corner of his jaw, then turned over the single sheet in the folder he held. Surprise, surprise, very few people wanted to relocate to map-speck Montana for the month of December. The woman he’d hired briefly in Philly hadn’t wanted anything to do with such a big move to such a small place for such a short time.

Quincy had made inquiries here in Marietta a few months ago, when Pops had first announced his intention to move back here. At that time, he had only needed someone willing to look in once a day. His father was quite capable of living on his own, but things were different now.

So different.

Still, it was only one month. Three weeks, really. Once Atlas was in the all-day preschool, Quincy figured he could handle most of the daily stuff. Other parents did. At that point, they could settle for having a housekeeper come in once or twice a week.

He just needed help through December, while they got settled and he finished up some work projects.

He needed time to get used to all of this.

But he wasn’t even given time to decide if he should introduce her to his father. The swing door near the bottom of the stairs squeaked. Pops and Atlas came through from the kitchen.

“Oh. I didn’t realize we had company.” Pops redirected Atlas from the bottom of the stairs into the living room. “We were going to find a clean shirt, but hello.”

“Hello.” Nicki Darren stood.

Pops was carrying too much weight, which contributed to the diabetes, but he came forward with enthusiasm.

“Maurice Ryan. Call me Maury.”

“Nicki.” She shook his hand and offered a big smile.

House, meet fire. His father had spent most of his life in sales and got along with everyone. Quincy had already noted that Ms. Darren didn’t exactly hold back, either. They quickly covered the weather, driving conditions, and the ‘excitement’ of a big move.

Atlas hung back, his blue shirt stained with a few dribbles of tomato soup. The battered stuffed dog he liked to cart around hung from his grip.

“You have a son,” the lawyer had said, after asking if Quincy had once dated Karen Ackerman.

“Five years ago,” he replied. He didn’t like to talk about it because he still felt blindsided by the entire thing. After they met online, things had progressed more quickly than he had expected. He had thought that meant they were serious and started looking for rings.

They had burned out just as fast—on her side, anyway. He hadn’t understood the break up. It had been a slap when he thought things were going well.

They definitely didn’t have a son, though.

They hadn’t, maybe, but she had.

“He’s staying with his maternal grandparents,” the lawyer said. “But you’re identified as the father on his birth certificate. No one else has been designated for custody.”

One paternity test later, Quincy knew his Y chromosome had created this boy, but being a biological father hadn’t made him feel like a dad. He didn’t know how to be a parent.

That hadn’t mattered to Karen’s parents. They were finished raising their own children. They hadn’t approved of their adopted daughter having a child out of wedlock and keeping Quincy in the dark about him. They had not only insisted he be informed, but that he take responsibility.

Quincy privately believed they were holding him to account for something he hadn’t even known he’d done.

He had been sleepwalking ever since. This wasn’t real. How could it be?

Now he was trying to hire some help and his best shot was a failed actress. Nicki Darren was way too freshly minted with her ‘new’ career to take this job seriously.

He started to cut short the conversation before Pops took too much for granted, but Pops was already drawing Atlas forward.

“And this is Atlas.”

Pops was so proud to have a grandson, so taken with him. Quincy had gone to his father with the news the moment he’d hung up from the lawyer. Where else would he go with a shocker like that? He hadn’t known what to do, how to react.

His father had stared at him as if he couldn’t believe he had to spell it out for him. “You take him and raise him, son.”

Quincy was damned grateful he had his father, a man who knew the ropes of parenting, since he didn’t have a clue what to do with a boy that age himself. On the other hand, his father’s reaction put so much pressure on him. Love him, Pops seemed to urge relentlessly.

How? Quincy could barely stand himself, let alone anyone else. His father was the only person he would admit—internally, mind you, and without any flowery language—that he loved outright. He couldn’t simply look into a pair of brown eyes that yes, were disconcertingly similar to the ones he saw in the mirror every day, and fall in love. It was narcissistic, for starters.

He wasn’t dad material. He had never intended to become one. Karen had known that. Which put another wrinkle of confusion into how this had come about.

“Hello, Atlas.” Nicki knelt in front of him and shot a quick glance up at Quincy. “You look just like your father.”

A jolt went through Quincy each time he met her gaze. The zing carried the adolescent pow of electric excitement that used to happen when the head cheerleader tossed a surprise smile at the trig nerd he’d been.

He definitely couldn’t hire her. She was way too pretty. Pretty enough to be an actress, for sure, and definitely too pretty to be a nurse. She was noisy, too. Not just chatty, but he could already tell her personality was loud. She had been wearing a tacky hat when she first came in, a knitted pink-and-yellow thing with a big yellow pom-pom and earflaps that had trailed down into a pair of Technicolor Pocahontas braids.

She had popped it off and rich brown waves had tumbled around her face, hints of caramel and dark coffee giving the mass some depth. Fine strands had lifted with static and she had smiled so big his stomach had tightened with male reaction.

Now her jacket was on the sofa, allowing him to take in the snug pink turtleneck she wore. Her chest was as perfect as a woman could be made. Little glints of dark bronze caught the light as her hair shifted around her shoulders. Her hips flared above narrow thighs encased in skinny jeans. Her face had a sun-kissed California tone, or maybe she had some Latina heritage that gave her that soft glow. She wasn’t wearing makeup and didn’t need it. Those blackstrap molasses eyes of hers were sticky enough, practically gluing his gaze to her features, mesmerizing him.

Maybe he was using her as an excuse not to look at his son.

Son, son, son. He had to get over the shock and deal with it. He knew he did. But how? Hiring this woman couldn’t be the answer. He needed a miracle.

“It sounds like a lot of things have changed for you lately,” Nicki was saying to the boy. “Does it feel strange to be in a new house?”

Atlas brought the stuffed dog up to his chest and hugged it close. His expression grew even more shy than it usually was.

Who named a kid Atlas? He was a boy, not a titan. It made Quincy think the kid was being forced to carry too much. Damn it, if he could only have five minutes with Karen to ask how she’d become pregnant. Why?

He watched Atlas shift his little eyeballs up and down, between Nicki and him, weighing. Like he knew Quincy was making a decision that would affect him.

He’d been giving Quincy that same look since his grandparents had said, “This is your father. You’ll be living with him now.”

Quincy probably wore one just like it. He hated change, too, and always wanted some kind of warning.

“I’m Nicki.” She offered her hand. “Nice to meet you.” After a second, she said, “You’re supposed to shake my hand.”

Atlas did, gingerly.

“Good job.” Nicki’s voice held a warmth that made Quincy uncomfortable. It eased the tension in him a few notches. He needed resistance against her, not reassurance. He didn’t know why, but he did.

The barest hint of a smile touched Atlas’s mouth. Apparently, he wasn’t immune to her star power either.

“I’m excited for Christmas. Are you?”

Atlas shrugged his bony shoulder.

Quincy bit back a groan. He didn’t care about the holiday one way or another. After his mother had passed, he and his father always spent the day together, exchanging a gift of game tickets or hand tools and going out for a decent meal, but that was as far as either of their investment in celebrating went.

This year, Pops seemed to think it all had to be a big hoopla. Atlas didn’t even know his days of the week, as far as Quincy could tell. Did he even understand what Christmas was, let alone why he should be counting days in anticipation?

“My favorite part is making cookies and decorating them. What do you like to do?”

“Pops is diabetic,” Quincy reminded her.

His father shot him a look that told him to ease up, knotting Quincy’s shoulders even further.

“I would love for this house to be full of the smell of ginger snaps and shortbread. My wife used to make them this time of year. So did my mother, come to think of it.”

Nicki rose. “Quincy said you grew up here.”

“I did. I left to make my fortune, as young men do, but I’ve always missed Marietta. When I saw the house had been restored and was for sale, I decided to buy it and move back. That was before we knew about Atlas. I thought I’d be living here alone. Now I have both my boys with me.”

Quincy saw Nicki Darren’s expression sharpen with curiosity, but Pops didn’t give her a chance to ask what he meant by, Before we knew.

“We’ll have to get a tree,” Pops said. “You’ll have to take us shopping, help us with the wrapping. Are you up to all of that?”

“Of course. Does that mean…?” Nicki clasped her hands under her chin. “Do I have the job?” She seemed to have more teeth than normal people. They were straight, pearly, and couldn’t stand not to be seen because there they were again.

“Pops—”

“What? Did I get that wrong? I thought you were hiring her?”

“There’s a lot of unpacking still to finish,” Quincy warned her. “I have to work. That’s why we need someone to…” He nodded at Atlas.

I don’t know what to do with him.

In his periphery, he saw his father’s chest rise and fall in subtle disappointment. It hit Quincy hard, every single time.

“If you’re up to that, fine.” Desperate times called for desperate measures. Maybe, given what she’d said about her own mom, and how she’d grown so sad and wistful mentioning it, maybe she understood where Atlas was at and could help the boy settle in. “Start as soon as you can. I need to finish building my desk.”

He went back to the living room.

~ * ~

His Christmas Miracle releases October 27th, but it's available for pre-order now on all platforms. Read on for the Stocking Stuffer bonus you'll receive with purchase.

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

Stocking Stuffer!

Since the story is built around an Advent calendar, I had a local designer create one you can download, print, colour and assemble as you countdown to Christmas with your own little elves.

The kit includes a tree you assemble, plus the baubles you'll use to decorate it along with recipes and suggested activities for the Christmas season. I hope you'll share your tree with me as you put it together through December.

The kit is included as a bonus in the back of His Christmas Miracle.

Order His Christmas Miracle now from:

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

Book Trailer

Shhh. I'm showing you early. The end of this trailer says "Available Now" but the book doesn't actually release until Oct 27th. If you can't wait, take a peek here.

Watch the book trailer for His Christmas Miracle.

Book Five - Love In Montana

His Christmas Miracle takes place in Marietta, where most of my other Montana Born books are set. Prepare for visits from Liz, Piper and the rest of the characters from these books. (Note: all can be read as stand-alones.)

Book One: Hometown Hero

Book Two: Blame The Mistletoe

Book Three: The Bachelor's Baby

Book Four: His Blushing Bride

Book Four and a half: Scorch*

Book Five: His Christmas Miracle (releases Oct 27, 2016)

*Scorch takes place in Glacier Creek, where Nicki is from

I hope you enjoyed this start on the Christmas season. Would you like to be notified when His Christmas Miracle releases? Join my newsletter! As a welcome gift, you'll receive a link to download Cruel Summer, a short ebook romance I wrote exclusively for my reader group.