A WWII love at first sight romance with dual timelines, codebreaking war heroines, and prisoners of war.
People always asked Faye why Will called her Moxie.
It started with a dare at a dance in 1942 that ended in a kiss. Will loved that story.
But there’s more to the story than that. Much more . . .
Gretchen knows this story well. Her grandfather told it over and over while he was alive. But when Gretchen goes home to Jersey to be by her grandmother’s side one last time, Grandma Faye tells a different version of the story.
She knew the moment she saw him, they were meant to be together. Her girlfriends may have dared her to kiss him, but she would have anyway. Then the war got in the way. Faye thought she’d never see Will again. Until that night he took her breath away.
Will may have given Faye the name, but he’s the one with all the moxie.
Will had to get a hold of himself, but he couldn’t move. If he couldn’t stop staring, he was going to scare her away, and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. He reluctantly let go of her hand. He was determined to slow dance with this woman and inhale her fresh scent all night. The scent of flowers at the beach on a late summer night.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t worry about Rita. George’s sister always has a bee in her bonnet. Even more so now that she’s joined the WAVES.” He turned to a very tall man standing to his left. “This is George.” George shook each of their hands and Will couldn’t help noticing that the tall redhead might have fancied George a little from the way she blushed when it was her turn to shake hands. The feeling seemed mutual.
“And this is Teddy, Robert, and Charles.” He pointed to each of his chums in turn, and they all shook hands with the ladies.
Soldiers and women around them seemed to stop what they were doing and look in their direction. Ella Fitzgerald had stepped up to the group, but he’d been so enamored with Faye he almost hadn’t noticed.
“Glad you gentlemen could make it.” Ella’s voice was smooth and buttery.
More handshaking ensued as Will and his friends greeted Ella then introduced her to the ladies who gushed about what fans they were.
Will couldn’t help standing a few inches taller. Ella was positively radiant in her sparkling blue dress. She looked much more rested than when Will had seen her on the train.
“Miss Fitzgerald.” Teddy held up his Kodak 35. “Could we take a picture with you, please?”
“Of course.” Ella stepped into a gap between Will and George. If he died tonight, Will Burke would die a happy man. First a beautiful stranger kisses him and sets his hair on fire, then Ella Fitzgerald stands next to him in a photograph. He was thankful Teddy suggested the idea. Nobody would believe him otherwise.
Teddy asked a woman standing nearby to take the photo for them. He urged Faye, Darla, and Liz to get in the picture too. They straightened their dresses then found a place in the group.
After the flash of the camera, Will turned to Ella. “Can we buy you a drink?” he offered, looking around for her band but not seeing them.
“Maybe after my set. Y’all have fun now,” she said with a wink. And just like that, she was gone again.
The band on stage struck up a fast number. Sounded like it could have been one of those Glenn Miller tunes, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen the Glenn Miller band listed on the poster at the door. He didn’t know. All he cared about was the song made him want to dance. Or maybe it was Faye that made him want to dance. He could jitterbug with the best of them.
He downed his drink then placed the glass on a nearby table. Holding his hand out to Faye, he said, “Shall we?”
Michelle Cornish is a recovering CPA with a passion for stories. Writing mostly romance and women’s fiction with strong female heroines, Michelle’s books often include nods to her former life as a CPA. When Michelle’s not writing, she’s hanging out with her two boys and husband in the beautiful Okanagan Valley, BC, Canada.
Title: The Pact Author: Max Monroe Genre: Romantic Comedy
Sexy bachelor Flynn Winslow is such a man of mystery, not even his four siblings know the details of his life. He’s quiet, patient, and kind, and when the time comes for a cool-headed perspective, he’s always the man for the job.
But over a decade ago, a fortune teller predicted that one day Flynn would make a pact with a beautiful stranger and his life would take a drastic turn…
This Winslow Brother better buckle up—he has no idea what’s coming.
“Oh my gosh! I’m sorry!” A female voice grabs my attention, and I glance toward the entrance doors of the Wynn to find a blur of wild curls running like a banshee. She bumps into several people trying to get outside, and more apologies blurt from her lips as she almost takes out an older gentleman wearing a cowboy hat.
The man is none too pleased, but his annoyance doesn’t stop her. Out onto the pavement of the driveway, she stumbles a bit on her sky-high heels as she continues her fast-track path to who knows where.
She comes to a halting stop in the center of the entrance driveway, in the middle of cars and only a few feet from my bike, and looks around maniacally with her big green eyes.
What is she doing?
Her breaths come out in harsh pants, and she chaotically brushes pieces of her wild mane of curls out of her face.
“You okay?” I find myself asking, and she snaps her eyes toward mine.
She stares at me like I just asked her to solve an advanced calculus problem, and I lift the visor up on my helmet to repeat my question. “You okay?”
She shakes her head and digs her teeth into the meat of her full, red-painted lips. But just as she opens her mouth to respond, a man in a well-fitted suit comes bursting out of the entrance doors, yelling, “Daisy!”
The beautiful but possibly insane woman shuts her eyes on a heavy sigh, and by the sag in her shoulders and frown on her lips, I have a feeling she’s the Daisy he’s calling for.
“Daisy! Honey! Wait up!”
“Fuck,” she mutters, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out Crazy Daisy wants nothing to do with this guy.
Maybe he’s the reason for her abrupt departure and reckless sprint out of the casino?
This guy could be her boyfriend. Fiancé. Husband. I don’t fucking know what. But whoever he is, she wants distance. That much is apparent.
And even though I’m supposed to meet my brothers at one of the Wynn’s bars in about ten minutes, the urge to help her is too strong to ignore.
It’s a rare thing for a guy like me, to be honest. I don’t meddle in other people’s shit, but the panicked look on her face makes me want to give her the escape she needs.
But before I know it, before I can even offer the help, she takes it for herself. One leg over the seat of my bike and her arms around my waist, she leans into my back harshly and declares her intentions without pause. “I need a ride.”
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
When Lexi Blair comes home to Little City from LA for Christmas, she gets the surprise of her life—the ex-fiancé she thought was dead is very much alive and wants her back!
It’s Christmas Eve and Lexi’s seen a ghost. Or . . . she thought he was a ghost until her mom admits to faking his death so Lexi would come home for Christmas.
After a humiliating run-in with her ex—which results in Lexi disowning her mother—she hides out at her best friend’s tree farm, babysitting a nameless puppy while her friend and hubby tend to a family emergency.
But farm life comes with a few perks Lexi isn’t expecting—mainly a hunky farmhand who’s helping Lexi run the place until her friends return.
While Lexi ran from Little City, John ran to it, and she quickly learns he’s healing from past hurts of his own.
Can Lexi and John stop running before it’s too late?
Who could possibly be here this early? How did they get past the gate? I know I locked it last night. Footsteps echo on the front porch as if the guy out there is moving around to peek in the other windows. Prince William whines as if I’m crushing him. I’m thankful for the distraction. I press my finger to my lips to tell him to be quiet, as if he knows what I mean.
“Lexi?” Okay, that definitely isn’t Dad’s voice. How do they know my name? And what kind of idiot waits until Christmas morning to get their Christmas tree?
“Lexi, it’s John.” My shoulders suddenly slump down as they release all the tension they’ve been holding. Right, of course. Briar mentioned John had his own key. There’s more shuffling on the porch as I stand. “John Johnson,” he says.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment and I hope the blast of cold air I get when I open the door is enough to keep them from turning red.
“Sorry, John. I . . . uh . . .” I have no idea what to say. Here I’m meeting Dax’s cousin for the first time, and I thought he was some sort of axe murderer. A very good-looking axe murderer, mind you. He’s older than I thought, and Dax wasn’t kidding, John could pass for Dax’s brother instead of his cousin. His close-cropped, dark brown hair is lightly sprinkled with grey, unlike Dax’s. He’s old enough I feel like I should not have been thinking of him as good looking, but handsome enough I’m thankful I wiped that drool off my cheek.
After slipping on my shoes and stepping outside, I put Prince William down so he can finish what he started in the house. He sniffs John’s feet then follows a winding scent trail leading him a few feet away from the front steps.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” John says, noticing Prince William’s pee puddle from last night. “I hope it’s not too early.”
I have no idea what time it is, but it seems a little less dark than it was when I was in the house. Must be near dawn.
“Just thought I should let you know it’s me heading to the barn and not some random stranger.” He gestures past the large greenhouse, but it’s still dark enough the greenhouse is really all I see since it’s lit from the inside. I make a mental note to explore the property with Prince William once it’s light enough. “In case you saw the truck lights,” he adds. “The horses like to be fed at the same time every day.” All right then. So, I guess I can expect an early wake-up call every day.
Then I pause as what he says sinks in. There are horses here. I wrack my brain. Briar never mentioned horses—I’m sure of it.
“Okay,” I say, feeling like the conversation has come to an end but not sure how to excuse myself. I’m such a dork. My t-shirt and sweats aren’t enough layers for this Christmas morning, and I fold my arms into my chest and rub my arms a little.
“I won’t keep you,” he says, extending his right hand and glancing at my sock feet. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be back later. There’s always at least one person who’s forgotten a hostess gift on their way to dinner and stops in hoping to grab a poinsettia.” He chuckles. “The horses will be wanting theirdinner by then too.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I say, shaking John’s hand. His hand is warmer and softer than I expected. He turns around and heads toward the greenhouse, stopping to scratch Prince William’s ears. He turns back at the last minute.
“Merry Christmas, by the way,” he says and waves as he gets into his cherry red Chev.
Michelle Cornish is a recovering CPA with a passion for stories. Writing mostly romance and women’s fiction with strong female heroines, Michelle’s books often include nods to her former life as a CPA. When Michelle’s not writing, she’s hanging out with her two boys and husband in the beautiful Okanagan Valley, BC, Canada.
