Wednesday, November 30, 2016

The Bloodline by Lorhainne Eckhart - $0.99



Andy Friessen has two guarantees in his life:

1. His wife Laura, and his children are safe from the control of his family.
2. A safety deposit box holds evidence that could blow his mother's world apart.

But nothing is ever simple or easy, until one night tragedy strikes, yanking the rug from under him. This time, secrets and lies could destroy the solid foundation he's built for his family.

The Reunion
The Bloodline (Andy & Laura)
The Promise (Jed & Diana)
The Business Plan (Neil & Candy)
The Decision (Brad & Emily)
First Love (Katy)
Family First

Vanished by Lorhainne Eckhart - $0.99



In VANISHED, Abby has married the man of her dreams. He rescued her, and he’s the father of her child. Everything should be perfect, but she begins to relive her nightmare from when she was taken… and one night she disappears, leaving her children alone in the dead of night, her husband on a military ship halfway around the world. But when Eric arrives home and the search begins, there are two disturbing questions: Was someone in the house? And how is it possible for Abby to simply vanish?

Or grab The Saved Series: The Complete Collection which includes all the books in this sizzling military suspense series.

Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers by Meredith Allen Conner



Kate Storm always thought Bigfoot was a mythological creature. Until she ran her over. Now she’s stuck with the creature sleeping on her pull-out while she figures out how to heal her. Which wouldn’t be so bad if Big Al, her hit-man channeling Chihuahua, wasn’t showing so much concern for the giant furry being. Kate wants nothing more than to get Bigfoot back to where she came from, but she has other things to worry about. Her undead best friend Morgan is hiding a secret. Kate is trying to work through relationship issues with Ash, her demon boyfriend. A xenologist is on Bigfoot’s trail. And another of her clients winds up dead. It’s enough to make the most determined matchmaking witch a little crazy. Kate will have to rely on more than her magic to get her through this time.


Aunt Tabs set a mug in front of me and a small bowl in front of Al. She sat down with her own mug. “Feeling better?”
I nodded. Al took a few laps of his tea, leaned forward with his ears at attention, “Do ya think you’re comin’ down with somethin’?” 
I choked on the sip I’d just taken. Death and murder are a common occurrence to a hit-man.
“We don’t handle killing people, or creatures of any kind, all that well, Al.” Aunt Tabs answered for me.
“Why not?” He tilted his head to the side. “Besides it isn’t dead.”
“No. It’s alive, but it could have died. And I would have been responsible.” My voice came out a little hoarse.
“So?” Al tilted his head the other way.
I considered how best to explain. “I don’t like killing things.” That was a little too vague. “People, animals, Bigfoots.” I tried to be as encompassing as I could. “Plants.”
“Ya killed that vampire assassin.” Al beamed proudly.
“Yes, but only because he wanted to kill me. And Morgan.” I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have stopped there either. Ivan had wanted everything to do with me erased from existence. Which would have included my aunt and Al.
“I didn’t want to kill him.” That wasn’t strictly the truth, but considering my choices, my conscience and morals didn’t have a problem with his death. Or my part in it.
“If you didn’t want to kill him, I coulda done it for ya.” 

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

The Forgotten Child by Lorhainne Eckhart - FREE




How do you tell a man there is something wrong with his child?

In THE FORGOTTEN CHILD, Brad Friessen wasn't looking to love again. But what he got was a woman who shook his lonely bitter world upside down, and touched him in a way no other woman could.

Emily Nelson, a courageous young mother, ends a loveless, bitter marriage and strikes out on her own. She answers an ad as a cook and live-in caregiver to a three-year-old boy on a local ranch. Ranch owner Brad Friessen hires and moves in Emily and her daughter. But Emily soon discovers something's seriously wrong with the boy, and the reclusive, difficult man who hired her can't see the behavior and how delayed his son is. So Emily researches until she stumbles across what she suspects are the soft signs of autism. Now she must tell him, give him hope, and help him come to terms with this neurological disorder—to take the necessary steps to get his child the help he needs.

As their lives become intertwined, their attraction is unavoidable—a connection sparks between them. But just as they're getting close, Brad's estranged wife, Crystal, returns after abandoning the family two years earlier. Among the shock and confusion is one disturbing question Brad can't shake: How does Crystal know so much of his personal business, the inner working of the ranch, and Emily's relationship with his son?

Crystal must've had a plan, as she somehow gains the upper hand, driving a wedge in the emotional bond forged between Brad, Emily, and the children. The primary focus for care and therapy of three-year-old Trevor is diverted. The lengths to which Crystal will go, the lies, the greed, just to keep what's hers, are nothing short of cold and calculating. Emily's forced out of the house. Brad fights to save his boy, to protect what's his, and struggles over his greatest sacrifice—Emily, and the haunting question: Has he lost her forever?

Special Agent Finnegan by Mimi Barbour - $0.99!

$0.99 or FREE for Kindle Unlimited Subscribers


Love for his father makes a man weak - what’ll happen when he gives his heart to a woman?

When Special Agent Finnegan O'Reilly gets shot, and the news brings on his father’s heart attack, he decides to take leave from more undercover assignments. The O'Reilly has suffered enough and Finnegan can’t be the cause of more distress for this beloved old rascal. Then his boss forces one more case on him - to take place in their own pub. Acting as the target to expose serial, suicide killers rampaging through New York City, Finn must play the part of a wife-beater, a cheating husband and an all-time jerk. No problem, until he meets his make-believe wife.

Renée Knight enjoys her job as a New York City cop. Her disguises have become a permanent fixture in her life. No one really knows what she looks like except for the father she loves fiercely… the man, whose suicide makes no sense. If it means going undercover in an Irish pub where the culprits hang out, she’s their girl. Playing the victim wife of the bar owner to catch the killers—easy. But they never intend for her to fall for this guy, she does this all on her own. Now she has to hire the assassins to arrange his suicide. Will she catch them, before they complete the mission?


Renée drove her open convertible north on Amsterdam Avenue. Once again, the day was surprisingly warm. In a city that normally suffered the cold in December, it was freakish weather for this time of the year.

Enjoying the wind, Renée took a deep breath, clearing away the cobwebs from her undercover deceit. Most times it didn’t bother her to play a part. After all, her job as a New York City cop had continuously forced her into all kinds of situations, some dangerous, others, like the one she was working now, not so much.

People stared at her for driving with the top down in the winter, but what the hell? She didn’t care. It was such a relief to be out of her school-girl character for a short time, so as long as it didn’t rain or snow she’d gladly let the chilly breeze blow.

Smiling, feeling glad to be alive for the first time since she’d found her father’s body; she turned on the radio to a holiday station in time for a favorite Christmas carol. Then she checked to make sure the black wig she wore, with long bangs, pinned-up curls and loose strands that twirled near her face, still fit tightly. Though she hadn’t taken any chances and had wrapped it up with a gauzy pink scarf, it still blew every which way, wanting to be free.

Her red coat done up snug around her neck added extra warmth, and she decided the world was a pretty good place. All around her were bars and pubs lining the streets, and the temptation to park and get something to eat gnawed at her empty stomach. Before she could get serious, she noticed a Harley coming up on her left. Big and black, a noisy monster, it came level just as the wind gave a final tug at her scarf and pulled it loose. Instantly, she slowed in time to see the motorcycle rider frantically tugging at the pink material as it wrapped itself around his face.

Oh, no! What’re the chances of something like this…? Frantic, she yanked her wheel to the right and braked, while he did a wheelie and missed her bumper with only inches to spare. The driver, dark hair visible, no helmet in sight, barely controlled the spin. With some fancy maneuvering on his part, the bike’s tires finally screamed to a stop. Vicious swear words were all she heard in the aftermath. Before she could get out of the car, violence barely controlled, the rider stomped to her door and threw the scarf into her lap.

“I’m so sorr—”

“Sorry?” He leaned in and yelled, his eyes flashing sparks of deep blue. “You’re bloody lucky I have such good reaction skills, or both my bike and my body would be under your car right now. What kind of an idiot has their top down when Christmas is just around the freakin’ corner and… wearing that ridiculous thing?” His finger pointed at the pink gauzy culprit, the cause of her discomfort. “Leapin’ lizards, would-ya turn down that racket?”

Renée felt horrible. As she reached to turn off the noise, the heat in her face intensified. “It’s weeks to go before the holida—”

“Why didn’t you have the damn scarf tied properly? Blowing in the wind like some kind of a silly damn banner only a nutbar would wear.”

Nutbar! He was justifiably angry, but he had no right to call her names or to keep her from getting out of the vehicle and standing up. Totally at a disadvantage, she tried to keep her cool. “Look here, I had it tied and I never realized the wind would be so strong. I can see you’re upset—”

“Upset? His voice rose higher. “Up-set?” Many on the street were now stopping to see what the ruckus was and Renée hated being the center of attention. “If you’d let me out of the car, I could apologize and—”

“I don’t want your damn apology.”

Okay! This was enough. Exasperation overcame her calm, and her temper kicked in to high gear. “Stop interrupting me.”

“You think saying I’m sorry will fix you almost killing me?”

“Well then, what the hell do you want me to say?”

Still peeved, the tall guy stepped back. Physically appealing, his toned body temporarily distracted her from her snit. When he put his hands on his hips, his leather jacket opened enough to for her to see the O’Reilly’s emblem on the black t-shirt peeking through.

Suddenly, she remembered seeing the same man outside her Uncle Jack’s office at the agency the day before. Since he was so casually dressed, she’d scratched the notion that he was an FBI employee. Those robots all wore suits. A thought popped into her head and caused a strange reaction in her already jumpy stomach. She hoped he wasn’t a criminal. Seeing how angry the dude was, she didn’t want any trouble. Before she could mention anything about their previous encounter, he slapped his hands on her door and growled. Obviously pissed because of her inattention, he said, “For Chrissake, use your brains. Put the hood up and drive like a person who deserves to have a licence. That’s all I ask, lady. Not a hell of a lot.”

Before she could respond with some sarcasm of her own, a beat cop quickly approached and waved the audience away. “Okay, folks, show’s over. Let’s break it up.” Then he tipped his hat at Renée and surveyed the angry man whose arms were crossed, while attitude screamed in his sour expression.

“Hey, O'Reilly, what’s up?”

O'Reilly? Oh shit! Renée could see this wasn’t going to go well.

“Hey, Ben. We’re all good here. This pretty lady lost her scarf and I was just returning it to her.”

Whaaa!! Renée’s mouth hung open. Shock blasted her irritation into smidgeons and left her brain laughing inanely.

With a salute for the officer, a last pat on the top of her door and a smile that would soften the heart of misery, O'Reilly sauntered over to his bike, set it upright and roared off.

Renée watched him with her heart thudding off-key, the pounding in her chest making it hard for her to put two thoughts together clearly. What an irritating… man!

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

The Deadline by Lorhainne Eckhart - FREE



In THE DEADLINE, Andy Friessen has packed up everything and moved his family two states away, to Montana, to protect his wife, Laura, his newborn babies, and his stepson, Gabriel, from the threats of his mother. What Andy doesn’t know is that they’ll soon face a new threat, one he never saw coming.

Gabriel is sick, and a trip to the doctor confirms Laura and Andy’s worst nightmare: Without a lifesaving transplant, their son won’t survive.

What Andy doesn’t count on, as he tracks down the young man who fathered Gabriel, as well as Laura’s estranged parents, is that a whole host of problems are about to be unleashed.

The Deadline (Andy & Laura)
The Price to Love (Neil & Candy)
A Different Kind of Love (Brad & Emily)
A Vow of Love, A Friessen Family Christmas
Or grab The Friessens: A New Beginning, The Collection which includes all the books in this romantic family saga.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

The Reunion by Lorhainne Eckhart - FREE



The family you thought you knew.
A reunion you’ll never forget.
A love that lasts forever.

Welcome back to a very special Friessen reunion, in which Becky and Rodney renew their wedding vows. Joined by their sons Brad, Jed, Neil and their nephew Andy, along with their wives and children. This family will show you how love will see them through all the heartache and obstacles life throws their way.

Friday, November 18, 2016

Christmas Belles and Mistletoe by Linda West - $0.99!!

$0.99 or FREE for Kindle Unlimited Subscribers


The small town of Kissing Bridge is up in arms when the Landers' famous cookie recipe is stolen as well as their hearts! The family curse is still rearing its ugly head and chances of a merry Christmas seem dim. Luckily miracles and magic happen on Kissing Bridge Mountain and even seniors can find true love!

The Monarch: Emerging from Her Cocoon by Luci Cosway

$3.99 or FREE for Kindle Unlimited Subscribers


Becca Lambert has her vacation sex all planned, but when she goes to meet her boyfriend at the airport, he’s arriving with his wife and kids in tow. Frustrated and angry, Becca turns to anonymous online sex instead. Nick Hartley is in a new town and looking for some casual sex when he finds Becca. Now, he wants to convince her that they should ditch the screen time and hook up in person. Can this Butterfly find her way out of her cocoon?

Dog Park by Deena Marie Kaylee - $0.99 Goodie!

$0.99 or FREE for Kindle Unlimited Subscribers


Matchmakers come in all sizes and shapes and in the case of this Christian romantic-comedy the little (and big) arbitrators come with tails. Brutus, a Great Dane could have gotten hurt most anywhere in the Dog Park, but his owner, Matt puts the blame on a peppy little Welsh Pembroke corgi named Bamboo, and her feisty master Lynne, who happens to be very attractive. These two pet-owners do not get off to a good start, yet they can’t deny that there is a spark between them. Can a Great Dane and a wild little corgi join forces to convince their owners to be friends and to forgive and forget?

Warning: this story contains a large amount of fur-flying fun! Beware, extra doses of love, laughter and inspiration were added for your enjoyment. Thank God for four-footed blessings!

Chapter One
Lynne put the gear in reverse and backed her car out of the driveway, then headed down the palm-lined street. Bamboo barked. The rusty-red and white colored Welsh corgi knew where they were headed. The dog park was to Bamboo, what Disneyland was to a child.
After Lynne parked the car she briefly checked the mirror. She frowned; her short, blond hair was a disheveled mess. With no hairbrush available, she instinctively reached for her baseball cap and sunglasses. Why did she even care what she looked like? It was only the dog park. Clipping the leash on Bamboo's collar, Lynne headed for the entrance as Bamboo trotted next to her with a cheerful gait.
Since they visited the park weekly, Lynne and Bamboo were familiar with most of the dogs. Bamboo knew them by scent; Lynne knew them by sight. Most dogs were friendly; if they weren't, they had to leave the park. Those were the rules.
Stepping inside and closing the gate behind her, she unleashed Bamboo. The stocky, little corgi darted away to freedom kicking a dust plume of dirt and grass into the air. A peppy little mutt named Max, a park regular, whizzed past Lynne in high pursuit of the corgi. Bamboo got into the spirit of play with Max and the other boisterous dogs, finding delight in the chaos of barking and charging about. Lynne found the dog park to be a necessary outlet for Bamboo’s boundless energy.
Lynne smiled as she headed for a park bench. Sitting down, she pulled out a book from her tote bag and started to read. Not only was the dog park a joy to Bamboo, but to her as well. It was a special place where she could relax reading pages from a favorite mystery novel and put all stressful thoughts from her life aside.
Looking up, she checked on Bamboo's whereabouts. Lynne chuckled. Bamboo was chasing a fawn colored pug. It was Phoebe, a daintily little dog, but quick and clever. Lynne watched as the pug out ran Bamboo then turned abruptly, and stopped, making Bamboo trip and roll, dirt flying high. Phoebe took off again, enjoying the chase. Bamboo shook herself off and charged after Phoebe, running so fast it seemed as if her short legs would take flight.
Lynne leaned back against the bench and viewed her surroundings with appreciation. The scent of pine and eucalyptus filled the air and the morning dew clung to the grass. It was another beautiful day in Southern California. She picked up her book again and continued to read.
"Excuse me," a deep sounding voice said.
Lynne glanced up. A tall, attractive man with wavy, black hair stood before her. "Yes?"
"Is that your dog over there?" he asked, pointing to a dog in the distance.
It was Bamboo. "Yes. Why?"
He whistled. "Brutus, come." A large white and black Great Dane came slowly limping over. "Look at what your dog did to Brutus." The man pointed to the right back leg. It had a gash and was bleeding.
Aghast, Lynne shook her head. She swallowed hard. Her dog would never bite another dog. After an interminable silence, she spoke, "No, Bamboo couldn’t have done that. She wouldn't hurt a flea let alone a Great Dane," she responded, like a woman protective of her pet. Raising Bamboo from a puppy, Lynne had trained her to be mannerly and a loving dog.
"Ma'am, I beg to differ." His dark, brown eyes bore into hers. "Your dog chased Brutus, then bit his leg. Isn't your dog a welsh corgi?"
"Yes, and what of it," she asked as she stood up. Lynne squelched back the words she really wanted to use. She felt like a midget standing next to him. He had to be well over six feet, easily dwarfing her 5'3" frame.
"My neighbor had one of those dogs and it was belligerently aggressive. That breed of dog herds’ animals by nipping them at their heels," he stated.
"That’s absurd! Just because other corgi’s herd doesn’t mean mine does." She looked over at Bamboo who was sitting demurely under a tree; she was a picture of canine decorum. Lynne grimaced. Bamboo did have a tendency to herd her and Margo when they were playing Frisbee in their backyard, but that was information she wouldn’t share with this man.
"Vicious corgi," he mumbled as he snapped the Great Dane’s leash back on.
Lynne glared at him. "Dare you insinuate that my dog is vicious?” Anger pulsated through her as her heart beat furiously against her chest.
"All right I won’t, but I suggest that you pay the vet bill and we'll call a truce."
"I think not," she fumed. "Can I ask you something?"
He raised a brow. "What?"
"Did you actually see my corgi bite your dog in the leg?"
The man stared down at her with his penetrating brown eyes. "Well, ah, no, not exactly," he admitted. "I heard Brutus yelp. I turned and saw your dog chasing him. I felt it quite safe to assume that the corgi was the guilty party since there weren’t any other dogs chasing him or remotely close to him."
"I don't know if it's safe to assume anything," she replied. "It's either a yes or no. Did you see Bamboo bite Brutus?"
"No, but I…"
"Ah, hah, sorry," she interrupted, "I'm not paying the vet bill." Without another word, Lynn picked up her book from the bench, stuffed it into her tote bag and stomped off. Shaking inside, she condemned herself for being so rattled by the man’s accusation. She walked towards Bamboo and whistled. Bamboo turned, and trotted over to meet her at the gate. Lynne picked her up and hugged her tightly.
"You're not vicious, Boo," she murmured into her ear. As she closed the gate, she glanced back through the mesh fence. The owner of the Great Dane stared her down. She turned away quickly. His look made her feel like a criminal fleeing the scene of the crime. Should she have offered to pay for the dog’s vet bill, she now wondered.
Pulling the key from her pocket, she unlocked the car door with trembling hands. After getting Bamboo situated on the passenger seat, she shut the door and walked around to her side of the car. Why could she still feel the man’s oppressive glare? Lynne pulled out onto the highway. "So much for a peaceful day at the dog park," she grumbled.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

The Choice by Lorhainne Eckhart - FREEBIE



One Woman...
Marcie is crazy in love with Dan who has been using her and promising his love in return. And she'll do anything for him, which is fast becoming a one way ticket to trouble. But in a freak accident she loses her memory landing in the path of sexy DEA Agent Sam Carre.

Two Men...
For DEA Agent Sam Carre when this attractive stranger lands in his path he just can't resist helping her, even though he's haunted by a past that gives him no peace. But as the sparks fly so do questions of what she's really involved in.

And a choice that could kill her...
This complex case pushes them both to explain the unexplainable bringing them face to face with generations-old evil and a haunting question. Sam's forced to make a choice: walk away from the attraction connecting them or risk losing everything.

The Choice
Lost And Found
Blown Away, The Final Chapter
Or grab Walk the Right Road: The Complete Collection, which includes all the books in this sizzling suspense series.

The KEYS to my Diary ~ Marina by Ann Omasta



My name is Marina Carpenter, and I am divorced. I never in a bazillion years thought I would have to utter those words about myself. I suppose nobody thinks they will go through the nightmare of divorcing when they are fresh-faced, madly in love, and newly married.

Fern, my BFF, thought it would be a good idea for me to work through my hurt feelings by writing in this journal. Well, I already know how I feel about all of this...cheaters, loneliness, and divorce all majorly suck wind.

Maybe I need a hot, young, motorcycle-riding stud to help me forget this overwhelming sadness for a bit. Yes, I think a steamy fling with a tourist, who is visiting my little corner of paradise, is precisely what will nudge me out of this slump. I'll just need to remember that it's a temporary dalliance. No problem...right?

Sneak a peek inside my diary today!

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Dead Vampires Don't Date by Meredith Allen Conner



Kate Storm is your typical everyday mortal witch. She owns her own matchmaking business, hangs out with her vampire best friend, Morgan and enjoys the company of Big Al, her hit man channeling Chihuahua. Plus there’s a certain demon that she has her eye on. Life is pretty good until her first important non-human client winds up dead and his body is dumped at her back door. Turns out, disposing of the body is the last thing she needs to worry about. Kate will have to find the true killer if she wants to save her business and her life. And her new found witchy detective skills may not be enough to save her, especially if the demon is involved.


Approximately four hours later, I discovered that I no longer had to worry about my problem. Someone had taken care of it for me. Regrettably, they had dumped the body at my back door.

I caught myself as I went to check for a pulse. Ha. Good one. Check a vamp for a pulse.

Ha. Ha.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I bit my lip to stop the hysteria.

No way anyone - Prince of Vampires or not - had survived this. The tree branch used for a stake was long enough to sway with the night breeze as it protruded from his chest.

Blood pooled beneath his body and lingered on the lightly fluttering leaves of the branch.

Funny, I hadn't realized vamps bled. I did know they didn't poof into a charred pile of ash once staked. Hollywood - always needing a good special effect. However, it looked like vamps did tend to go gooey. Rather fast.

I couldn't go to the police - the prince was a vamp - and I certainly couldn't tell the vampires – they'd kill me first. I doubt they'd even ask questions afterwards.

I had to get rid of the body.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

One Night by Lorhainne Eckhart - FREEBIE



A blind date goes deadly on a night she’ll never forget!

Kate Sikes has it all: she’s smart and sexy, she has a great career, and she really does believe in happy endings—only she always picks the wrong guys. Nonetheless, she’s determined to meet the man of her dreams, and she believes she’s finally found the one when she turns to online dating. However, her high hopes are once again dashed when Mr. Right turns out to be Mr. Wrong, with some seriously heavy baggage that has Kate running for her life.

When Detective Walker Pruett comes to Kate’s rescue not once but twice, he realizes the only way to keep her safe from a crazy stalker is to keep her close. But his life is far from easy. He’s a lone wolf, and the last thing he’s looking for is attachment. After One Night with Kate, though, Walker can’t fight the chemistry sizzling between them. Not only does he find her irresistible, he feels compelled to protect her. And Kate soon discovers just how far Walker will go to do so.

Don't miss all the books in Kate and Walker: Deadly, Dangerous & Desired


Impressions by Blake Leonhardt



Impressions is an expose into the life of a migrating introvert, an ambulatory god of soil and sweat, a bohemian in the truest sense born out of the desert cauldron we call the west. Blake tackles many themes including his often troubled engagement with the binary opposites of solitude and movement. The protagonist Donnie has many definitions depending on who you ask. A true romantic, a keen skeptic, a self-indulgent nihilist. In the end he is ambiguous yet undoubtedly compassionate, and his mystique evokes strong opinions and varied conclusions. Impressions tells it all, traveling through a ubiquitous urban wasteland to the ports and taverns of an animated European landscape. Impressions is symbolic of those without chains, detached and looming, enthralled with pure experience and expression. Enjoy this contemporary calling and true gift to the outlier.

Friday, November 11, 2016

Coconutty Christmas by Ann Omasta - FREE



Kalea has repeatedly been warned about the temporary nature and heartbreaking consequences of falling for a handsome tourist passing through her little slice of Hawaiian paradise. Will the fear of being hurt keep her from experiencing all of the delightful surprises that life has to offer? Or will the trifecta of gorgeous Russ, a freak storm, and an unforgettable Christmas allow her to open her heart to the possibility of finding her happily ever after ending?

This sweet and romantic short story is part of The Escape Series, which includes the Kindle Scout winning book, Getting Lei'd, as well as its prequel novella, Aloha, Baby!, and the follow-up novel, Cruising for Love. The books in this series are standalones that do not have cliffhanger endings. They share characters, but are designed so they can be read in any order.

A Kiss Beneath the Mistletoe by Jenna Jaxon

$1.99 or FREE for Kindle Unlimited Subscribers


Jenny Crowley has been duped! At her eighteenth birthday celebration her parents announce that instead of having the London Season she’s dreamed of for years, Jenny has been betrothed from birth to Alexander Isley, son of family friends and heir to a title. A distraught Jenny refuses point-blank to marry Alec, and when her aunt offers to whisk her away to a Christmas house party, complete with many eligible young bachelors, Jenny jumps at the chance to enjoy a variety of entertainments, be courted, and perhaps fall in love.

Alec Isley is between a rock and a hard place. He desires a marriage with Jenny no more than she does, but when his family’s dire financial status is revealed, he follows Jenny to the house party in hopes of convincing her to marry him after all. When he discovers who else is courting her there, Alec is frantic to keep her from making a dreadful mistake. Struggling with new-found feelings for his childhood friend, can Alec convince her of his love in time to save her from being ruined under the mistletoe?


Dishes of trifle finally sat at each place. Jenny itched to pick up her spoon. She could taste the berries and cream even now. She glanced at her father, who at last smiled and nodded.
“So, Charles, when is the wedding to take place?” Great-Aunt Henrietta trumpeted the question from her place at the mid-point of the table, her spoon already busy with her dessert.
“Wedding, Aunt Henrietta?”  Papa’s voice rose in a question, but he cut his eyes toward Mamma, who sent a frightened look at Jenny. 
Odd, but no more so than her great-aunt’s question.  Whose wedding was she talking about?
“Yes, Charles.  Jenny’s wedding to young Alexander here.”  Henrietta nodded across the table to Alexander Isley, who sat up abruptly, staring at her aunt with wide eyes, as though he thought the old lady quite mad. 
Jenny thought so herself.  A prickly sensation began at the back of her neck. She shot Alec a quick look. No, his face wore an expression of outright confusion, his brows knit over his dark brown eyes.
“She’s eighteen now, and you promised me when she was of age I’d see her married into the Isley family.  I have lived for the day that I could announce to the world that one of my family had moved into the titled class.”  She glared at Mamma, who blushed and turned to Jenny.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds, Jenny darling,” Mamma said, patting her hand.
That might have reassured Jenny, except her mother’s wide, staring eyes said yes, it was that bad. Maybe worse. Her heart began to pound and the sweet trifle turned sour in her mouth.
“Not bad?” Great-Aunt Harriet swung her gaze to Jenny and fixed her with a cold blue-eyed stare. “You should be grateful, girl. Your parents and I have arranged for you to take your place in society, as a titled lady in due time.”
“It’s not true is it, Mamma?”  Jenny could barely choke out the words in a voice that didn’t sound like her own at all. Too high, too soft. A peculiar roaring in her ears made her head light.
“Yes, my dear, it most certainly is.”  Great-Aunt Henrietta nodded with such vehemence that the feathers on her green velvet turban bobbed back and forth.  “When your mother refused to marry up, I swore none of your family would ever see a penny of my money.  Then when you were born, she came to me, begged me to reconsider, and promised that you had already been betrothed to the Isley heir here.” She pointed a finger at Alec who looked like he might dive under the table.  “She showed me the betrothal papers.”
Everyone at table sat in stunned silence.  Jenny looked down at her hands, clasped together so tightly her knuckles showed white.  All her dreams of excitement and romance during her season had just exploded in the blink of an eye.  Then the real import of her great-aunt’s word sank in and her stomach twisted. They expected her to marry Alec?

Monday, November 7, 2016

Madam President: The Secret Presidency of Edith Wilson by William Hazelgrove


Literary Guild Selection
History Book Club Selection 
Movie Rights Optioned by Storyline

After President Woodrow Wilson suffered a paralyzing stroke in the fall of 1919, his wife, First Lady Edith Wilson, began to handle the day-to-day responsibilities of the Executive Office. Mrs. Wilson had had little formal education and had only been married to President Wilson for four years; yet, in the tenuous peace following the end of World War I, Mrs. Wilson assumed the authority of the office of the president, reading all correspondence intended for her bedridden husband and assuming his role for seventeen long months. Though her Oval Office presence was acknowledged in Washington, D.C. circles at the time--one senator called her "the Presidentress who had fulfilled the dream of suffragettes by changing her title from First Lady to Acting First Man"--her legacy as "First Woman President" is now largely forgotten.

William Hazelgrove's Madam President is a vivid, engaging portrait of the woman who became the acting President of the United States in 1919, months before women officially won the right to vote. A Selection of the History Book Club, Military Book Club and Conservative Book Club. 


She was from the South and had two years of formal schooling and wrote like a child. She married a quiet man from Washington and her baby died after three months. Her husband then died and left her with a failing jewelry company that was severely in debt. She turned the company around while taking almost no salary. She bought an electric car and was issued the first driver’s license given to a woman in the District of Columbia. She married a President who had been recently widowed. In four years, the President would have a severe stroke, and leave her to run the Unites States Government and negotiate the end of World War I.
She was our First Woman President.
1 – The Cover Up
President Woodrow Wilson lay with his mouth drooping, unconscious, having suffered a thrombosis on October 2nd 1919 that left him paralyzed on his left side and barely able to speak. The doctors believed the President’s best chance to survive was in the only known remedy for a stroke at the time; a rest cure consisting of total isolation from the world.
His second wife of four years, Edith Bolling Wilson, asked how a country could function with no Chief Executive. Dr. Dercum, the attending physician leaned over and gave Edith her charge.
“Madam, it is a grave situation, but I think you can solve it. Have everything come to you; weigh the importance of each matter: and see if it is possible by consultation with the respective heads of the Departments to solve them without the guidance of your husband.”
From here on Edith Wilson would run the White House and by proxy the country by controlling access to the President, signing documents, pushing bills through, issuing vetoes, isolating advisors, crafting State of the Union addresses, disposing or censoring correspondence, filling positions, analyzing every problem and deciding what to give to the President and what to solve by her own devices; all the while keeping the fact the country was no longer being run by President Woodrow Wilson a guarded secret.
A few guessed at the real situation. A frustrated Senator Falls from New Mexico pounded the Senatorial table when he demanded a response from the White House. “We have a petticoat government! Wilson is not acting! Mrs. Wilson is President!” Clearly some would see a power grab Edith Wilson ensured by keeping Vice President Marshall from seeing the President and preventing the Constitutional transfer of power. But Edith believed the doctors admonishment that any stress would kill her husband. From here on she would shield Woodrow Wilson from the world with one simple guiding principle in running the country; keep her husband alive.
Edith participated in the Wilson Administration in an extraordinary way. They were more like a couple today where both people are more of a team than was found in 1919. President Wilson made sure they were together constantly and valued his wife’s input and made Edith part of many of his decisions prior to his stroke. In this way he gave her hands on training for her “stewardship.”
“I tried to arrange my appointments to correspond with those of the President, so we might be free at the same times,” she would later write. Woodrow Wilson gave Edith presidential access to all his work and many times she was with him all day. As she later wrote, “Breakfast was at eight o’clock sharp. Then we both went to the study to look in “the drawer” and if nothing had blown up overnight, there was time to put signatures on papers or other official papers. These I always placed before my husband and botted and removed them as fast as possible.”
Edith’s participation in the Wilson White House allowed a woman, who just four years before was a widower living alone in Washington, the ability to deal with the demands of the United States while nursing her husband. The essential death of the President was felt from the failure of The League of Nations to get approved to the virtual standstill of foreign policy and domestic concerns. At a point, the White House simply began to cease to function
Edith Wilson had to step in and power followed. Literally we have a woman with only two years formal education making it up as she went along; approving appointments, making foreign policy and domestic policy decisions, orchestrating the cover up, and restricting access to her husband who at times was totally “gone.” When looking through the Papers of Woodrow Wilson, one is struck by how much correspondence from 1919 to 1921 was directed toward Edith. From America’s entry into the League of Nations to winding down the war to the recognition of diplomats, Edith was on the front lines.
Instead of My dear Mr. President in the Wilson Papers we now see My dear Mrs. Wilson. And these letters cover all matters of state. The correspondence of the Edith Wilson Years would fill four volumes. As she wrote to Colonel House the Presidents unofficial advisor, “My hands are so full that I neglect many things. But I feel equal to everything that comes now that I see steady progress going on.”
Americans wouldn’t see their President for five months. Appointments remained filled and correspondence piled up. Years later essential Presidential communications never opened in the White House were found in the National Archives. Like someone who can’t get to their bills, Edith had simply thrown them in a pile.
The cover up would last until our present day with historians and Edith Wilson herself taking part; her memoir written in1939 continued the cover up by calling her Presidency a “stewardship” and downplaying any significance to her role. Historians would seal the deal with many conceding Edith Wilson was almost the President but that Woodrow Wilson was still in charge. Some would say she might have been the President for six weeks, but that was all.
It is still shocking to the majority of Americans to learn that President Wilson had a massive stroke in office. But to tell people that his wife, Edith Wilson, was the acting President for almost two years is unbelievable. The motivations among historians and the people at the time is simple. If you say Edith Wilson was President from 1919 to 1921,then you diminish the impact Woodrow Wilson had on the country and his legacy.
Power is given to those who can act upon it, and President Wilson, who remained in bed only to be wheeled out for movies and some fresh air, could not act upon anything. The question then is; who was Edith Bolling Wilson? Was she a woman singularly gifted enough to run the country and nurse her husband back to health; or was she a woman doing the best she could in a world of men who saw women as little more than second citizens? Now almost a hundred years later, we ponder the very relevant impact of our First Woman President again.
But we have to go back to a train car outside of Pueblo Colorado in the Indian summer of 1919. It is here in the heat and dust on September 25th, that Edith Wilson’s Presidency began.
2 – A Bad Day
“Edith, can you come to me? I am very sick.”
A woman stood in the darkness with the desert wind blowing in the open windows. The train car shifted from side to side as she grabbed the handle to the Presidents bedroom. Somewhere outside of Pueblo, Colorado, in the stifling heat of September 14, 1919, Edith Bolling Wilson opened the door from her train compartment and found the 28th President of the United States with his forehead against a chair at 11:30 in the evening. Pressing against the cranial thump of blood gave some relief to President Wilson, but things were quickly deteriorating.
The steel Presidential car, The Mayflower, was stifling hot as Wilson moaned and inhaled the scent of smoke from forest fires they passed through earlier. The President had few remedies for the excruciating headaches of hypertension. Add to that years of campaigning for The League of Nations had left him physically exhausted. The League was already the barefoot child of the treaty and Henry Cabot Lodge and other Republicans were whipping the country into isolationist fury with their mission to destroy Wilson’s dream. Lodge saw the League as a breach of America’s sovereignty and a violation of the Monroe Doctrine, but he had another motivation for blocking ratification of The Treaty of Versailles; he loathed Woodrow Wilson.
Lodge viewed the preacher from the South as an arrogant dreamer who had no real concept of realpolitik. The Brahmin from Boston who wore spats and sported a Vandyke beard, thought Wilson inept in war and peace and it didn’t help that he had defeated his lifelong friend Teddy Roosevelt in the 1912 presidential race. It was no secret Lodge loathed President Wilson to the point Henry Adams found the Senators hatred of the president…”demented.”
President Wilson feared the defeat of The League would ensure another war. The sacrifice of millions of lives was in the balance as the “War to End All Wars,” could only be justified by The League. Without America in the new organization of world government it would be only a paper tiger. So the President had gone on the road to take his case to the American people.
But there was no Air Force One, there was only the Presidential train car, The Mayflower, basically a steel tube hauled by a steam locomotive that belched coal smoke. Edith described the the Presidential accomondations this way in her memoir: “Entering the car from the rear one came first to a sitting room, fitted with armchairs, a long couch and a folding table on which we dined. Next came my bedroom and then the Presidents, with a door connecting. Each room had a single bed and dressing table. Beyond this was a room my husband used as an office. There was placed his typewriter without which he never traveled.”
A whistle stop tour was a grueling event for a young healthy man and the sixty two year old Wilson was neither of these. They passed through the scorching temperatures of the West without the comfort of air conditioning. In the desert, Wilsons steel train car became an oven and the President hadn’t been for some time. They had been traveling for twelve days and the last two had been brutal. As Edith wrote in her Memoir later: “The weather was warm and enervating. These two days would have taxed the vitality of one who was rested and refreshed. My husband took them on top of twelve days and nights of travel.”
Hypertension and a hardening of the arteries had steadily crept up on the sixty two year old Wilson .Pressing his head against a chair was the latest self-medication technique. Many times the headaches would drive the President to darkened bedrooms where Edith would pull the curtains. There were no beta blockers with medical science still fifty years out from the Civil Wars approach of loping off gangrenous limbs and using leaches to deal with suppuration. The brain was still as foreign as Mars.
Edith immediately called Dr. Grayson. She had been married to the President for four years and had many apprehensions before she accepted Woodrow Wilsons proposal of marriage. Born in a small town in Virginia and widowed at 23, she had been an independent woman before she met the grieving President who started wooing her with Victorian love letters.
Greyson examined his patient and noticed The Presidents face was twitching and that he was gasping from an asthmatic attack. As Grayson later recorded in his diary, “The strain of the trip had taken its toll from him and he was very seriously ill. For a few minutes it looked as if he could hardly get his breath.” The headache screwed into his forehead and was getting worse. The President of the United States was suffering early symptoms of a stroke, though the worst was to come.
The doctor moved him to the “office” car which was roomier. Wilson tossed in the train car most of the night. “The Doctor and I kept the vigil, while the train dashed on and on through darkness,” Edith would later write in her memoir. “About five in the morning a blessed release came, and, sitting upright on the stiff seat, my husband went to sleep. I motioned to the Doctor to go to bed and I sat opposite scarcely breathing.”
The next morning Wilson emerged clean shaven but Grayson argued against continuing on. They had only completed 3500 miles of a 10,000 mile trip. The President pointed out his problem, “Don’t you see that if you cancel this trip, Senator Lodge and his friends will say that I am a quitter and the trip was a failure, and the Treaty will be lost.”
Grayson told the President he should, “stop now before very serious developments should occur.” He then bluntly said the tour would kill him. Edith urged her husband to cancel the rest of his speeches. When his personal Secretary Joe Tumulty came in the President admitted, “I don’t seem to realize it, but I seem to have gone to pieces. The doctor is right. I am not in a condition to go on.” He then turned and looked out the window with tears coming to his eyes. Wilson would later call it, “the greatest disappointment of his life.”
The train started back East. Edith sat up a watching her husband with the steam locomotive chugging toward Washington. The psychological shift that allowed Edith to run the United States was cast. She had married Woodrow Wilson four years before knowing her life would change forever. Now her life would change again. Edith reflected twenty years later that she, “would have to wear a mask, not only to the public, but to the one I loved best in the world; for he must never know how ill he was and I must carry on.”
Edith was devoted to the President. She rose early to help make his meals and monitored who saw him. She took long drives with Woodrow and felt this was a remedy for his exhaustion, sometimes depression, and the chronic hypertension. Edith had tried to protect her husband from stress for years. An election in 1916, a World War, then a year in Europe fighting for the League of Nations, had taken everything Wilson had.
The President believed The League would give meaning to the millions of young men who died in the hollowed out hell of trench warfare in France. At the very least he could look American mothers in the eye and say their sons helped to end war. Wilson saw American boys who came over “ as crusaders, not merely to win the war, but to win a cause,” That cause was The League of Nations, but without approval by the United States, the League would mean nothing.
The train ran back on a specially cleared track with the blinds lowered. People gathered at stations to watch the speeding Presidential Express ball though only stopping to take on water. The press was told “nervous exhaustion” was the reason for the cancellation of the speaking tour. Wilson sent a telegram from Wichita, Kansas to his daughter, Jessie Woodrow, trying to stem the alarm. “Returning to Washington. Nothing to be alarmed about. Love from all of us.” Woodrow Wilson
A news report in the Denver Post on Sept 26th ran: President is Ill and Cancels his Tour. In what would become precedent, Dr. Grayson reported physical exhaustion as the reason the Western speaking tour was cancelled. The article speculated the ordeal of the parades for the President “seemed to be most trying on his nerves,” and that “the trip had also been very tiring to Mrs. Wilson.” The press respected privacy in 1919 in a compact between the White House and the reporters who covered the President. The investigative reporter had yet to rear its head.
Edith knitted while the President tossed in the agony of hypertension in the extreme. On September 27th, Grayson issued another bulletin from the train for the press: “The presidents condition is about the same. He has had a fairly restful night.” The New York Times headline on Saturday Sept 27th announced “The President Suffers Nervous Breakdown” and connected it to an attack of influenza in Paris and caused by overwork.
Grayson requested the train run at half speed to keep from jarring the President. The train slowed to twenty five miles an hour while the President writhed from the intense cerebral pressure. When they reached Washington, the President managed to walk from the Presidential car and then was ordered to bed by Admiral Grayson. The next day he and Edith took a two hour drive in the Pierce Arrow Presidential limousine. The day was cool and autumnal and Wilson seemed to improve. But the headaches never abated and upon his return, Grayson ordered him back to bed.
The doctor then invoked several mandates that would guide Edith Wilson over the next two years. In his diary he wrote, “I took steps to put into effect the rest cure which I had planned and which I realized was the only thing that would restore him to health.” The only cure was total isolation from the pressures of his job. “…he shouldn’t be bothered with any matters of official character…it was to be a complete rest, not partial rest…and nothing was to be allowed to interfere with the Presidents restoration to health if possible.”
Any pressure on the President could now be fatal. If Edith’s husband was to survive she must insert herself between him and the United States. No cabinet meetings. No meetings of any kind. A wedge of devotion and the sustaining restorative powers of the body might save his life. But of course this was all proving to be too late for The President.
Edith Wilson started to fill in for her ailing husband. The Secretary of War, Newton Diehl Baker sent her the first official telegram. “Dear Mrs. Wilson, If anything comes to the White House in the next few days which you think I could do and save the President having to give it attention…feel free to send it to me.” Edith then stepped in by entertaining ten journalists from the Western Tour. Her first duty of state was when Sir William Wiseman of the British Government said he had an urgent message for the President. Edith met him at eleven o’clock and said she would get back to him.
Edith mentioned the diplomats message, but the President waved it off. Sir William Wiseman received no response . Edith would write in her memoir, “This was the only instance that I recalled having acted as intermediary between my husband and another on an official matter.” The real Edith starts to bleed through her prose when she comments, about Wiseman; “I had never liked this plausible little man.” Edith was liable to make snap judgements that dictated who got an answer and who didn’t. Sir William Wiseman would never get one.
On the third day, Wilson improved and even played some pool. He was eating more and taking his daily drives. But nothing could alleviate the lurking thrombosis caused by pressured arteries Medical science had years earlier told another future President he would have to live the life of a recluse because of an abnormality in his heart. Teddy Roosevelt would become the most vigorous President America ever had. He did not take the doctor’s advice.
The New York Times reported on September 30th, “President Wilson seems to be getting better…at 10:30 tonight Real Admiral Grayson issued the following bulletin. The President spent a fairly comfortable day and is improving.” The Times then reported on Oct 1, “President is again Jaded after Another Restless Night.,,.”
On the night of October 2nd, Edith looked into the Presidents bedroom and found her husband sleeping soundly. She stopped back a half hour later and found him sitting up in his bed. “I have no feeling in that hand,” he murmured, gesturing to his left. Edith sat on the bed and started rubbing the President’s hand, then helped him to the bathroom.
“I’m going to call Dr. Grayson,” she told him and left her husband in the bathroom.
Edith hurried down to the White House Switchboard and told the operator to contact Dr. Grayson immediately. The thump was a body falling to the floor toward the Presidents living quarters.
Edith ran back upstairs and found the President of the United States bleeding and unconscious on the hard white tiles of the bathroom floor.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

A Thankful Heart by Melissa McClone Excerpt


Barnes & Noble

Chocolate is better than men, and so are dogs. At least, that’s what Dakota Parker tells herself as she mends her broken heart and finds forever homes for rescue animals. So far, so good. She can indulge her love of chocolate where she works while her foster dogs provide her with the unconditional love she craves. What more does she need?

Seattle architect Bryce Grayson is counting the days until he can return home to the big city with his father in tow. That is if he can convince his dad to leave Montana. Bryce’s escape plan, however, goes astray when he meets Dakota. Her sweet kisses put the chocolate she sells to shame. Maybe he should be the one to move to Marietta, but could he be happy living in such a small town?

He has until Thanksgiving to decide.

Love at the Chocolate Shop series
Book 1: Melt My Heart, Cowboy by C.J. Carmichael
Book 2: A Thankful Heart by Melissa McClone
Book 3: Montana Secret Santa by Debra Salonen
Book 4: The Chocolate Cure by Roxanne Snopek
More books coming soon


The bell above the door rang.
So much for free time. She set the pen on the counter.
A man walked in. Another burst of cold air came into the shop and brought goose bumps, but he quickly closed the door.
Welcome to Copper Mountain Chocolates,” she greeted as she always did.
His shoulders were angled toward the opposite side of the shop, so she couldn’t see his face. Not everyone came right to the counter. Sometimes, people entered out of curiosity or to window shop. Others wanted a free sample or to warm up from the cold.
Dakota stirred the pot but found herself watching him.
He brushed a gloved hand through his sandy-blond hair. The short, messy style appealed to her more than the way he dressed.
An expensive-looking leather jacket showed off wide shoulders. A white collar peeked out the top. His khakis were creased. That amused her since she didn’t own an iron. A pair of polished loafers completed his outfit.
His attire screamed big city.
Definitely not from around here.
No tie, but he reminded her more of the men she’d dated who worked inside, often behind desks in offices, and wore ties. She preferred men who worked outdoors.
A man who faced the elements every day, had a strong work ethic, appreciated animals, and knew how to treat a woman appealed to her at a gut level. The boots and jeans they wore were an added bonus. Not that she’d dated a cowboy or wanted to date one now.
She focused on the man, letting her curiosity and imagination run wild.
Maybe he was a tourist from the east eager for a taste of the west.
Maybe he was a CEO needing to escape a high-pressure job by escaping to a small town that moved at a snail’s pace.
Maybe he was a witness in a big case for the FBI and hiding out until it was time to testify at the trial.
Or maybe, and most likely, he was here because he liked chocolate.
Would you like to try a champagne truffle?” She readied the tongs. “That’s what we’re sampling today.”
He turned.
Her gaze collided with a pair of killer baby blues that made her breath catch and birds sing. Well, birds would be singing if there were any in the shop. A good thing she hadn’t lifted the tray or the truffles would be all over the counter.
He was, in a word, stunning.
Dakota hoped she wasn’t staring openmouthed or drooling, but she found him as appealing as her favorite Sage creation—dark chocolate with almond and cherry bits.
His slightly crooked nose gave him character, making his handsome face more interesting and rugged. A nice contrast to his smooth skin. Dakota was a fan of the razor-stubble look, but perhaps there was something to be said for clean-shaven.
He stared at Dakota. “What?”
She held the tray and used the silver tongs to offer him a piece. Thankfully, her hands were steady. “Would you like to try a sample?”
Or me.
Whoops. Where had that come from?
No, thank you,” he said.
She must be more tired than she realized, but that was what happened after a sleepless night worrying about her proposal and the animals. “The chocolate is processed here by our shop’s owner. The best in Montana.”
No, thanks.”
His full lips—how had she missed those?—parted. So sexy.
Dakota stared, mesmerized. She would love to see how he ate a piece of chocolate. Would he nibble on one edge, take a bite, or chomp the piece in half?
Are you sure you wouldn’t want a taste?” she asked.
I don’t like chocolate.”
Huh? Dakota knew better than to be annoyed by a customer, but that was exactly how she felt. Don’t react. She kept a practiced smile on her face. “Copper Mountain Chocolates are special. Everybody likes them.”
He shrugged. “Guess I’m not everybody. Sell anything else?”
Who was this guy? And why was he here if he didn’t like chocolate? “Hot chocolate.”
That’s not so bad, but I don’t have time. I have a list of what I’d like to buy.” He thumbed the screen on his phone. “Two fudge truffles, two milk chocolate salted caramels, and a piece of the dark chocolate cherry hazelnut bark.”
He might not be from around here or like chocolate, but his order contained top-selling items. Strange.
Dakota placed the candy in a bag and rang up his order. She told him the amount.
He pulled out a leather billfold that was as fancy and polished as his shoes.
Anticipation built. He could be anyone passing through town, but she would soon know his name from his credit card.
He scanned the shop with a cursory glance, pulled out a twenty, and handed it to her.
So much for finding out who he was.
Strangely disappointed, she gave him the change and his bag of chocolates. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
You, too.” He opened the door and looked back at her. “Nice shop.”
With that, he walked out onto Main Street and passed in front of the big window.
She watched him.
Did the guy have a better-than-you attitude or was he merely distracted? Maybe a combination of both?
Either way, Dakota found him interesting. A little…intriguing.
Warning bells sounded.
No. No. No.
Dakota would not allow herself to be intrigued by any man, let alone a stranger. She had no idea who the guy was. For all she knew, he could be the worst possible Mr. Wrong, a combination of those who’d come before and allergic to pet dander. He could be a psycho stalker. Or worse.
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