Title: Type X Author: M.A. Phipps Series: Project W.A.R. #2 Genre: Young Adult Dystopia
Feared by many. Frightened of few. Torn between humanity and the monster she’s become.
When Wynter surrendered to the DSD two years ago, she thought she was protecting her friends. Lured by the promise of a cure, she hoped she might finally be rid of her devastating disease or, at least, be on the path to controlling it. But Dr. Richter was never interested in curing her.
With a collar around her neck keeping her unstable powers in check, Wynter is transformed into an unstoppable weapon. Compelled to do the State’s bidding, she kills without feeling, remembering nothing of the people she gave herself up to protect. Her only thought is to obey.
When a mission goes wrong, triggering suppressed memories, Wynter finds herself determined to piece together her past. But as she uncovers the truth, she realizes it’s no longer clear who the real enemy is, and with the threat of war looming, she must again make a choice. Can she escape her role in the impending destruction?
A grunt resonates in the back of my throat as the toe of a boot kicks my legs out from beneath me. Wincing, I drop to my knees in the dirt.
Through a scalding veil of tears, I stare down at the ground. How could I have allowed us to wind up like this? Why did I just sit by and do nothing?
Rough hands pin my arms behind my back, binding my wrists in thick, metal shackles. I don’t struggle because I already know from experience there’s only one sure-fire way out of this. One way to undo the mistakes—my mistakes—that got us into this mess in the first place.
That nagging voice of doubt returns, holding me still. What if using my power here results in the one outcome I’ve sacrificed so much to avoid? What if it endangers the very lives I allowed myself to become a weapon to protect?
My eyes dart between Ezra and Jenner as they’re both forced down onto their knees beside me. I could do it. I could save them. I could get us all out of here alive. But I also know that my plan could go horribly wrong. One wrong move, that’s all it would take. One split second of hesitation or miscalculation and they would be dead because of me.
Then again, if I do nothing at all, we all die now, on our knees in this field. When I look at it that way, the decision is easy.
I only have one option.
Footsteps plod along the overgrown earth, pacing back and forth behind me. Three sets of tramping boots reverberate in my ears.
One armed guard per hostage, I note.
There were more than that when Nolan left us, but Quinn ordered the others to go on patrol. It shouldn’t surprise me that Nolan left the ex-Enforcer in charge of overseeing our executions. Quinn has hated me from the first moment we met. Of course, he would want the honor of slaying the monster himself.
Considering his motivation for joining PHOENIX, I wonder if his conscience is at all conflicted about gunning down unarmed hostages, or if he sees our deaths as just punishment for the crimes I committed on behalf of the State. He wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve done horrible things to protect the people I love and even worse things out of fear of what might happen if I didn’t. Every step I’ve taken, every move I’ve made, was selfish. I can own up to that.
But Ezra and Jenner… They shouldn’t die, not like this. They’ve done absolutely nothing wrong except love a broken girl who doesn’t deserve to be loved.
They shouldn’t have to pay the price for my sins.
I swallow the rising lump in my throat, asking myself the one looming question I’ve considered at least a thousand times before.
Can the future be changed?
If I had believed that it couldn’t, I wouldn’t have handed myself over to Richter two years ago. If I had thought the future was set in stone, I would’ve spent what little remaining time I had left with the two people in this world who mean everything to me. I wouldn’t have forced myself to forget them. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to inflict so many untold horrors on so many innocent people.
Even now, after everything I’ve been through, I have to believe I can still make things better.
M. A. PHIPPS is an American author who resides near the ocean in picturesque Cornwall with her husband, daughter, and their Jack Russell, Milo. A lover of the written word, it has always been her dream to become a published author, and it is her hope to expand into multiple genres of fiction.
Anna Paige is the author of the Broken series, the Thrill of the Chase series, and several sexy standalones including Off Script, Holding Out for You, and Tailspin (A Driven World Novel.)
She lives in a rural town in North Carolina where the only activity is the rhythmic color change of the solitary stoplight and a very real threat of being carried away by mosquitoes. The only alternative to terminal boredom is writing, making life interesting if only on the page.
Anna is happily married, with one amazing son and a hilarious rescue pup who is part boxer, part goat, and part dingo—at least that’s the theory after two incredible and entertaining years with him. When she’s not writing, she’s trying to make a dent in her TBR pile. Given that she’s constantly adding new titles to the list, the chances of her ever finishing are slim.
I’m not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland.
Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends.
So what is Chris “Fletch” Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he’s pattern matching a picture to find a real person he’s never met before?
Oh.
Oh, no.
The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.
That’s right.
Feisty.
Any choices available to her will ultimately lead to sacrifices. Fay must figure out what she is ready to sacrifice—her heart, her soul, or even…her life.
NICOLE BEA is a technical writer and author who focuses on deep stories to dig into: books that include romance, honesty, hope, and self-discovery. An avid storyteller since childhood, she has honed her skills through a variety of educational programs including management, sociology, legal studies, and cultural diversity in the workplace, most recently engaging in coursework about communication for technologists. She loves books of all shapes and sizes, but has a soft spot for short reads, protagonists with pets, and anything featuring ghosts or cats.
When Nicole isn’t busy updating her manuscript portfolio or catching up on her To Be Read pile, she can usually be found gardening, horseback riding, or perusing the shelves of a used bookstore. She and her husband share their home in Eastern Canada with a collection of multi-colored cats and a lifetime’s worth of books.
Title: Five Kisses Author: Rachael Anderson Genre: Clean Historical Romance
The first kiss crumbles her world. The second mystifies. The third unbalances. The fourth sends her reeling. And the fifth –ah, the fifth . . .
Inspired by Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, Miss Sarah Meacham has always behaved circumspectly, until an emotional outburst directed at a well-deserved gentleman earns her the nickname of Miss Shrew. As a result, she vows to never trust—or love—again. But when her father decrees that her younger sister cannot marry the man of her dreams until Sarah has secured a suitor of her own, she is faced with a dilemma: Deny her sister marital bliss or feign an interest in the next gentleman to come along, at least until their father relents.
Mr. Ian Collum is no gentleman. A tradesman and newcomer to Brighton, he has been searching high and low for the perfect house. When he at last discovers Ivy Cottage, with its magnificent views, extensive lands, and a large oak tree reminiscent of his favorite childhood escape, he will do whatever it takes to obtain it. Trouble is, the owner of the property will only sell if Ian agrees to court the beautiful and infamous Miss Shrew—a woman as intent on eluding Ian as he is on pursuing her.
The dark-haired man pushed away from the bookcase and pointed to the shelf above her head. “I’m guessing you used the stack of bibles as a stool to reach this shelf here.” He patted the place where Frankenstein once stood. “Is there a book I can get for you so you can climb down from your perch? People are beginning to stare, and I doubt the proprietress would appreciate seeing any book, especially a bible, being used as a stool.”
Knowing he was probably right, Sarah ignored his proffered hand and stepped down on her own. She glared at the few people she caught looking their way before returning her attention to the mysterious stranger.
Goodness, he was tall. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders.
His lips quirked into a half smile. “Feeling a wee less holy now?”
Blast his charming accent. “Perhaps. But I’m not sure if my decreased proximity to God is to blame or someone else.”
He chuckled, then folded his arms, still clutching the book, and propped a shoulder against the shelf once more. “You should probably try reading the bible instead of standing atop it,” he suggested. “In fact, there’s a story in Genesis—that’s the first book, you see—”
“I’ve heard of it,” she said testily.
“About a civilization who tried to build a tower to Heaven, as you have done, and had their languages confounded as a result.”
Sarah cocked her head. “Your point, sir?”
“’Tis a good thing we can still understand one another.”
“I might prefer it if we couldn’t.”
He grinned, not seeming the least bit put out. “In that case, you should have built a taller tower.”
Sarah eyed the book tucked under his arm, wondering if she dared to snatch it away and make a run for it. Surely, he wouldn’t make a scene by chasing after her. Though the scene she’d make would be something for the gossips.
“You keep eyeing this book, which leads us back to where we began. How can a story about a monster be, how did you put it? Incredibly dull?”
Sarah had to concede it hadn’t been the wisest thing to say. She should have said it was disturbing and caused the worst sorts of nightmares. That would have been more plausible.
“I haven’t the faintest notion. Perhaps the plot is tiresome and uninteresting.”
“Then I shall like it all the more. I prefer tales that play out at a more deliberate and leisurely pace, especially when monsters are involved. Now, is there a book I can procure for you, or were you really trying to gain some ground with God?”
Though he didn’t smile, his eyes gleamed, and his lips twitched in the most irritating manner. He was laughing at her. In fact, he’d probably been laughing the entire time. Argh. Had he seen her reach for that book and had taken it on purpose? The gleam in his eyes told her that could easily be the case.
Abominable man.
Sarah folded her arms, ready to be done with this silly charade. “If you must know, I have been on the hunt for that book for over a year now and was in the process of finally obtaining it when you stole it out from under me. Should you insist on borrowing it first, I would be most appreciative if you would tell me when you plan to return it so that I can borrow it next.”
He looked down at the book and examined it a moment. “Why didn’t you say as much to begin with? Had I known this was the book you were after, I would have done the gentlemanly thing and allowed you to have it first.”
She eyed the book, still in his hands, not quite trusting him or his handsome face. “Are you a gentleman, sir?”
“Nae,” he said with a grin. “Just a man who spied a bonnie lass and couldn’t resist teasing her a little. I hope you’ll forgive me, just as I hope you’ll sleep more soundly than I did after reading that book.”
He took hold of her hand, and his gaze locked on hers. Ever so slowly, he lifted her fingers to his lips and pressed a deliberate, almost seductive, kiss to her knuckles.
She inhaled sharply as the heat from his lips burned through her hand, igniting something within. A strange sort of fire sparked to life, surging through her body and evoking a myriad of sensations—both thrilling and terrifying.
Sarah had been kissed on her hand before, but never like this—or rather, it had never affected her like this. She stiffened, staring at him as though he were the devil himself. Perhaps he was. Come to taunt and tempt and wreak havoc on her senses.
A USA Today bestselling author, Rachael Anderson is the mother of four and is pretty good at breaking up fights, or at least sending guilty parties to their rooms. She can’t sing, doesn’t dance, and despises tragedies. But she recently figured out how yeast works and can now make homemade bread, which she is really good at eating. You can read more about her and her books online at rachaelreneeanderson.com.
Bowen therapist Charlie Wilson is not interested in men or relationships. Her only concern is making sure her sister Lindsay is safe.
But then billionaire Logan Johnson walks into her rooms and stirs powerful feelings inside of her. Logan’s perfectly knotted tie is a clear indication free-spirit Charlie should steer clear of him at all costs.
They are complete opposites, so why does he keep coming back to see her?
Charlie exhaled slowly. Oh, my word, she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d burst into flames. She had no idea why this man had the ability to turn her insides to mush, but she was a quivering mess and the night was still young. Listening to her instincts—that was what she should be doing, but where were they when she needed them?
And where was Lindsay? She had to get out of there before she did something completely stupid, like ending up on Logan’s lap.
Her sister wasn’t at the table, and frantically, she searched through the throng of people in the pub. Finally, she saw Lindsay heading back toward their table, but something was wrong. Even in the dim light of the pub, she could see her sister was pale.
“I have to get to my sister,” Charlie said, and tried to move her chair.
Logan looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to get to Lindsay,” she repeated urgently.
Logan got up quickly and moved out of her way. Lindsay was in Charlie’s arms before she took another step.
“What happened?”
“He…he’s found me, Charlie. He knows where I am!” she repeated over and over.
With her arms around her sister, Charlie quickly walked them out of the bar. They’d strolled over to meet there earlier—it was such a lovely evening—but now she rather wished they’d taken the car.
“I can take you home,” Logan said, behind her. “My car is parked right here.” He motioned toward a black sports car.
Charlie didn’t even think to protest. How was it possible that Lindsay’s ex-boyfriend had discovered their whereabouts? They’d been so careful. Not even their closest friends back in South Africa knew where they were going.
She helped Lindsay into the back of the car and slid in next to her. Logan nodded as if he understood her reluctance to leave her sister, even for a minute.
“It’s not far—down the street and then the second one to your right,” she said, holding tightly on to Lindsay, who was shaking like a leaf.
Charlie took Lindsay’s hand. “Sweetie, what happened?” Lindsay opened her phone. “Look at the last email,” she hiccupped.
I write love stories because I love reading them. I like the heroines to be feisty, independent and headstrong. And the heroes must be strong but possess a generous amount of sensitivity and should of course, be gorgeous!
In hindsight, opening a Christmas tree ornament shop in a small town was a terrible idea.
The Thanksgiving turkey is still warm, and I’m already up to my eyeballs in debt from my failed business.
To make matters worse, my knight in flannel never appeared—you know, the guy, the one who was tall, dark, and plaid, who had a friendly yellow lab and a truck and sold firewood, the one who showed the big-city heroine the true meaning of love and Christmas.
Yeah, he did not come rescue me.
Instead, Matt Frost showed up like the Prince of Winter to yell at me about the rent I owed him.
He did not feature in any of my Christmas fantasies. In fact, he was exactly the type of Christmas-hating alphahole billionaire in a suit I left Manhattan to escape.
I can’t worry about him.
I need to fix my life.
I have to make a bunch of money before Christmas Eve or I’m a toasted marshmallow.
No ornament will be left off this Christmas tree of desperation!
Gambling on the Christmas raffle that lets you win either ten thousand dollars, a giant snow globe, or a snack-addicted reindeer? Spin that roulette wheel and bring it on.
Moonlighting as an elf for an irate Santa? Mama’s gotta get paid.
Entering in The Great Christmas Bake-Off in hopes of winning the grand prize? Fetch me my custom elf apron.
I so have this bake-off wrapped, ribboned, and in my Christmas stocking.
Except when I’m paired with Matt the Grinch, I see my dreams of a debt-free Christmas going up in Yule log flames.
Matt Frost and I are not compatible baking partners.
Especially not after he licks the frosting off my Christmas cookies while I scream.
Not like that! He’s a Christmas-hating Scrooge who ruined my bake-off entry.
I am not in the market for a Christmas romance.
Especially not with a six-foot-five guy with ice-blue eyes and washboard abs.
No, not even when he’s covered in frosting, standing in front of a decorated tree, and looking better than an edible Christmas card.
“This is a bomb cookie,” I said happily, taking a picture of the finished dessert for Instagram. “I’m totally winning.”
A shadow passed over my baking station, and the temperature dropped ten degrees.
“This is your big plot to find my rent money?”
I looked up into Matt’s icy blue eyes.
“I have a multipronged approach.”
“You need to get a real job,” he said curtly. “Running a Christmas ornament shop is not a real job, and neither is participating in a bake-off. You’re not winning, and you’re delusional if you think so.”
“Neither are you,” I replied hotly. “They clearly just brought you on as the pretty face. Though why they bothered I’m not sure. Clearly, everyone is going to have eyes for Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Flannel over there.”
“Brody?” Matt snarled.
I laughed.
“Isn’t he amazing?” I continued, needling Matt.
As if he knew we were talking about him, Brody turned to catch me staring. I blew him a kiss, smirking when Matt growled in annoyance then swooning a little bit when Brody flexed his pec muscles at me. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“It’s not even sanitary,” Matt hissed through his teeth.
“Ooh, someone’s jealous!”
“I’m not.” Matt slammed his hands down on my table.
“Watch it!” I yelled. “You’re going to mess up my cookies. I don’t want your Christmas-hating cooties all over my dessert.”
“Too late,” Matt said and picked up the cookie I had just spent ten minutes decorating.
“Don’t you dare touch my cookies!” I shrieked.
“A lot of women want me to touch their cookies,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth quirking.
“Doubtful,” I retorted, grabbing across the table to the cookie.
He held it aloft.
“In fact, they want me to lick them.”
“I swear I will have you gutted and stuffed as a Christmas tree ornament,” I warned.
“So, you don’t want me to lick your cookies?” He gave me a smoldering glare.
Lick my…oh…ohhh…shit.
My face went hot under the stickers, glitter makeup, and hair spray.
No.
Yes.
Maybe?
No, Merrie, jeez!
“I have standards,” I told him.” There’s only one man here who I’d want to lick my cookies, and it’s not you, so give me back that snowman.”
“I’m supposed to be judging,” he retorted, “and I can’t do that without a taste test.”
Then he licked my freaking Christmas cookie! Ten whole minutes of frosting work was gone.
“You… you!” I sputtered. “I spent a million years decorating that.”
He bit the head off the snowman then tossed it back on the platter.
“That was actually pretty good for a Christmas cookie. I think I might have to lick your cookies again.”
“You…” I wanted to curse him out, but we were on live TV, and this was supposed to be a family-friendly program. The cameramen, sensing drama like sharks sensed blood, were hovering around us.
“You…doo-doo head!” Not as satisfying as calling him a fuckface asshole but it would have to do.
Matt snorted. “I think you should stop wasting time on name-calling since you clearly suck at it and get back to baking.”
He clapped his hands at me. “Chop chop.”
Fuck this asshole.
“Chop this!” I hollered, scooping out a handful of bright-red royal icing and throwing it at him.
Matt cursed, for real, with multiple F-bombs because if you were some sort of moneyed Manhattan type, you did not care about ruining the sanctity of The Great Christmas Bake-Off.
Title: She’s the One Who Won’t Behave Author: S.R. Cronin Series: The War Stories of the Seven Troublesome Sisters #6 Genre: Historical Fantasy
Gypsum, the sixth of seven sisters, has always been a rebel. Yet no one thought she would go so far as to join the reczavy, a group living in tents on the edge of the desert and known for their sexual promiscuity and playful ways.
But as the date of the Mongols’ return draws near, Ilarians of all types must work together if they are to have any hope of surviving. And the reczavy, for all of their odd ways, do have plenty of tricks up their sleeves. Well, up their sleeves whenever they are bothering to wear clothes, that is.
Gypsum is touched when her oldest sister Ryalgar comes to call, and brings an olive branch with her. Ryalgar recognizes that the reczavy have as much to lose as anyone, and as much to contribute. Will Gypsum accept a key role in the plan to stop the invasion? Of course she will.
Unfortunately, her playmates don’t all feel the same sense of urgency. Many would rather simply enjoy the time they have left. A few claim to be allergic to long term planning. And some are too busy with their own poorly-timed plans to overthrow the government Ilari already has.
Good thing needlepoint is the one traditional skill at which Gypsum has always excelled. She will need to thread a fine needle in order to coax this recalcitrant group into becoming life-saving warriors of a very different kind.
Sherrie Cronin is the author of a collection of six speculative fiction novels known as 46. Ascending and is now in the process of publishing a historical fantasy series called The War Stories of the Seven Troublesome Sisters. A quick look at the synopses of her books makes it obvious she is fascinated by people achieving the astonishing by developing abilities they barely knew they had. She’s made a lot of stops along the way to writing these novels. She’s lived in seven cities, visited forty-six countries, and worked as a waitress, technical writer, and geophysicist. Now she answers a hot-line. Along the way, she’s lost several cats but acquired a husband who still loves her and three kids who’ve grown up just fine, both despite how odd she is.
All her life she has wanted to either tell these kinds of stories or be Chief Science Officer on the Starship Enterprise. She now lives and writes in the mountains of Western North Carolina, where she admits to occasionally checking her phone for a message from Captain Picard, just in case.
I’ve been drowning since the death of my wife, but that all changed the moment she walked back into my life. She was my best friend growing up, until one day she left me. I haven’t seen her in years, but now that she’s back, I can’t possibly let her go again. It would kill me.
Christy I decided to leave the day he told me he was getting married. How could I possibly watch him walk down the aisle and marry another woman? But after being gone for years, events in my life have forced me home. I don’t know how I’m going to face him again, or how I’ll be strong enough to resist him. He’s been the love of my life for years. He just never knew it.
I’m a stay at home mom that loves to read. Some of my favorite titles are Pride and Prejudice, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Horatio Hornblower. I started writing when I was trying to come up with suggestions on ways I could help bring in some extra money. I came up with the idea that I could donate plasma because you could earn an extra $500/month. My husband responded with, “No. Find something else. Write a blog. Write a book.” I didn’t think I had anything to share on blog that a thousand other mothers hadn’t already thought of. I decided to take his challenge seriously and sat down to write my first book, Jack. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed writing. From there, the stories continued to flow and I haven’t been able to stop. I hope my readers enjoy my books as much as I enjoy writing them. Between reading, writing, and taking care of three small kids, my days are quite full.
Amelie Hampton is a hopeless romantic, which makes her the perfect columnist to answer lonely heart letters in The Marriage Gazette. When Amelie plays matchmaker with two anonymous lonely hearts, she also decides to secretly observe the couple’s blind date. To her surprise, the man who appears for the rendezvous is Harold Radcliffe—a grieving widower and a member of Amelie’s book club.
Police detective Michael Baker has been struggling ever since his best friend and brother-in-law dies in the line of fire. Because he knows the dangers of his job, he has vowed never to marry and subject a wife and family to the uncertainty of his profession. But when he meets Miss Hampton, he is captured by her innocence, beauty, and her quick mind.
When a woman’s body is pulled from the river, Michael suspects the woman’s husband—Harold Radcliffe—of foul play. Amelie refuses to believe that Harold is capable of such violence but agrees to help, imagining it will be like one of her favorite mystery novels. Her social connections and clever observations prove an asset to the case, and Amelie is determined to prove Mr. Radcliffe’s innocence. But the more time Amelie and Michael spend together, the more they trust each other, and the more they realize they are a good team, maybe the perfect match.
They also realize that Mr. Radcliffe is hiding more than one secret, and when his attention turns toward Amelie, Michael knows he must put an end to this case before the woman he loves comes to harm.
A Note from Author Nancy Campbell Allen
I have my editor, Lisa Mangum, and the podcast “Lore,” by Aaron Mehnke, to thank for the inspiration for The Matchmaker’s Lonely Heart. Lisa had been listening to Lore and mentioned an episode I’d also heard (because you can’t listen to only one Lore episode, you have to binge them all). The episode was about a gentleman whose wife died of a mysterious illness, and then his second wife tragically died…a string of sick and dying wives began to arouse suspicion among locals and law enforcement alike.
One of the fun details we’d also discovered about the Victorian era was the popularity of personal ads in local papers and magazines. I combined the idea from the Lore episode with an imagined character who works for a newspaper, has an insatiable sense of curiosity, and is a voracious reader of mystery and romance novels.
Et voila! A new Victorian series was born, featuring three cousins who live in London and are determined to become modern Women of Independent Means. My books almost always feature a healthy dose of mystery along with the romance, and I believe people who have enjoyed my work in the past will not be disappointed here!
Nancy Campbell Allen is the award-winning author of 19 published novels and several novellas, which encompass a variety of genres ranging from contemporary romantic suspense to historical fiction. Her most recent books, which include Regency, Victorian, and steampunk romance, are published through Shadow Mountain’s Proper Romance line, and the What Happens in Venice novella series is part of the Timeless Romance Anthology collection published by Mirror Press.
Nancy loves to read, write, travel, and research, and enjoys spending time with family and friends. She nurtures a current obsession for true crime podcasts and is a news junkie. She and her husband have three children, and she lives in Ogden, Utah with her family, one very large Siberian Husky named Thor, and an obnoxious but endearing YorkiePoo named Freya.
Left alone in the world after losing her parents, Cora Lee Schuster travels across the country to the newly-established town of Holiday, Oregon, to become a mail-order bride. She arrives in town to be greeted by her future father-in-law with her betrothed nowhere to be found. When it becomes obvious her reluctant groom-to-be has no intention of showing up at the family ranch where she’s staying, Cora Lee must decide if she’ll follow her head or heart.
Jace Coleman has loved trains since the first time he rode on one as a boy. Now, he spends his days as an engineer driving the Holiday Express line on a new engine named Hope. When a mail-order bride turns up at his father’s ranch to wed his brother, Jace has an idea his meddling father has tried his hand at matchmaking. The longer Cora Lee stays at the ranch, the harder Jace works to keep from falling for his brother’s intended bride.
Will Jace and Cora Lee discover the gift of hope? Find out in this sweet holiday romance full of memorable characters, warmth, and Christmas cheer.
On silent feet, Jace moved across the kitchen. A lamp on the table cast an amber glow around the room, illuminating his father as he snuck a piece of apple pie from beneath the towel where Mae had left it on the counter after supper.
“I thought I’d be able to catch you in here.” Jace spoke quietly as he stepped near his dad.
Grant spun around so fast, the slice of apple pie he’d just set on his plate slid to the edge and would have plopped to the floor if Jace hadn’t caught it. He nudged it back on the plate, licked the juice from his finger, then helped himself to a slice while his father glowered at him.
He filled two glasses with milk and set them on the table, then carried over his dish of pie before taking a seat next to his dad.
“What are you doing sneaking around at night?” Grant asked, waving his fork at him. “You could cause a body to have a fit of apoplexy or their heart to plumb stop with such tomfoolery.”
“I wasn’t the one digging into Aunt Mae’s pie.” Jace smirked at his dad. “Besides, we all know you can’t help yourself when it comes to apple pie or chocolate cake. As quick as you think everyone is asleep, you sneak into the kitchen and steal a piece or three.”
“I’ve never eaten three pieces,” Grant blustered, then lowered his voice. “But you did catch me. Mae probably knew I’d get up to snitch a slice, which is why she made an extra pie in the first place. What are you doing up? And don’t tell me it was a craving for pie.”
“It is good pie, Pops.” Jace licked the juice from his fork. “As for why I’m up, I want to hear the truth about why that poor girl is here, thinking Jude will marry her.”
USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.
Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”
When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.
