Excerpt of The Bride he Stole for Christmas by Caitlin Crews (Oct 26)
Tell me your name, he had ordered her. And then tell me what it will take to make you mine.
She shuddered at that, here on her frigid bench on this lonely Christmas Eve, her body as alive and greedy as she had been that night.
And Timoney wanted to scream out all the anguish, all the artless fury that he’d left her with. His betrayal so absolute that it had taken her whole months to fully comprehend exactly what he’d done. Chucked her out. Forgotten her name. Washed his hands of her completely.
Yet tonight, when she should have been reveling in exactly how cold and dead inside she’d become, it was as if he was here. A ghostly presence in the mist, and it seemed deeply unfair that any ghost could fill a cold garden the way he had always overwhelmed a room.
She blew out a breath and told herself not to be such a fool. For once.
Crete was immovable. A terrible wall of stone and silence, and some part of her had known that from the start.
And still she had run straight for all that brick and smashed herself apart.
“Have you fallen asleep, Timoney?” came the terrible, wonderful, familiar voice.
Timoney wrenched open her eyes, and as she did, the moon came out from behind the clouds. And it was impossible, but Crete was there. He stood before her looking beautiful and dangerous, as ever. He was sheer male glory in his typical uniform, one of those dark, bespoke suits that made love to his body in all the ways she longed to do.
It was not possible, and yet every hair on her body seemed to stand on end, so she knew that it was real. That this was no dream.
That somehow, Crete Asgar was stood in the remains of the garden while her uncle and her husband-to-be carried on toasting the wedding up in the manor house.
“Crete…” she whispered.
And all the feelings she’d been holding at bay slammed back into her, and worse, were lit up with hope.
Because he had finished with her because she’d committed the cardinal sin of telling him she loved him. Why would he be here, on the night before her wedding no less, unless he was finally ready to admit what she had always suspected, that he loved her, too? What else could bring him out on Christmas Eve?
“You can’t possibly marry that old man in the morning,” he told her, and he did not sound like a man tortured by love. He did not sound tortured at all. Or in love. If anything, Crete sounded impatient. “I have standards, Timoney. Obviously any lover after me will be a downgrade. But this verges on an insult.”
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Publisher: Harlequin Desire
She’s snowed in at Christmas…
with a man she must resist!
Casting director Perla Sambrano knows Gael Montez is the perfect actor for her new film project. As long as she forgets his oh-so-tempting allure and keeps her heart out of it. Because their chemistry’s no act and she needs to be careful…
The Montez men hurt the women they love. Or so Gael believes. Keeping things professional with Perla is the only way to protect her. Until a snowstorm strands them together, leading to an unplanned Christmas fling that lands them both on the naughty list!
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Buy Just for the Holidays… by Adriana Herrera
Excerpt of Just for the Holidays… by Adriana Herrera (Oct 26)
Gael leaned back, considering the information his sister had just given him. It was exciting to think about. A series about Francisco Rios, the leader of the Puerto Rican independence movement, was a dream project. The man had led an extraordinary life. He’d graduated from Harvard Law School in 1921—the first Puerto Rican to do so. While studying there he’d met Claudia Mieses, a Peruvian biochemist—and the first Latina to be accepted to Radcliffe College—who was remarkable in her own right. Gael had always thought their love story was a romance for the ages. And that Rios’s life story deserved to be told. Being a part of bringing something like this to the big screen was more than a dream…it was the kind of opportunity that had drawn him to be an actor in the first place.
“I want it,” he said with finality, feeling a buzz of excitement he hadn’t felt in months. “Who do we talk to?” he asked. Hell, he’d probably be willing to do the part for free. But his sister frowned at his question, her expression almost reluctant. When he looked at Manolo, Gael noticed the man looked smug. Clearly, the other shoe was about to drop.
“The studio producing the series is Sambrano,” Gabi blurted out, as if trying to quiet their uncle before he could get the first word in. No wonder the older man was smiling. What felt like a ball of lead sank through Gael. The skin on his face felt hot. He shouldn’t be surprised that the mention of the Sambrano name still had this effect on him after all these years, but it did.
“Tell him who’s in charge of casting, Gabriela.” His uncle sounded a little bit too pleased with himself for that nugget to be anything other than the person Gael suspected.
Gabi fidgeted, her eyes everywhere but on Gael. “Perla Sambrano’s doing the casting.” Unsurprisingly, he felt the blood at his temples at the mere mention of his ex-girlfriend. Perla Sambrano was someone he took pains not to dwell on. “She’s working for the studios now,” Gabi added, pulling him from his thoughts. “She’s their new VP of global casting and talent acquisitions.” His sister’s tone was sharp, laced with recrimination. Perla Sambrano had been the reason for the one and only time his twin had stopped speaking to him.
“I don’t know if this is the right project,” he said, ruthlessly tamping down the pang of discomfort that flashed in his chest. He stared at his sister, expecting her to rehash old arguments. But she just stared at him, disappointment written all over her face. He knew enough not to take the bait. That conversation as over and done with. He would not apologize for making the choices that had them all sitting in a private jet heading to the ten-million-dollar mansion his money had bought.
“This is not going to work, Gabi,” he told his sister, before turning away from her withering glare. He looked at his uncle and felt a surge of irritation at the pleased little smirk on his face. He was not some damn toy for Manolo and Gabi to compete over. “These aren’t going to work, either,” Gael quickly added, gesturing to his uncle’s pile of scripts. “Let’s keep looking.” That made Manolo’s smile flag, but he wasn’t here to save anyone’s feelings. This was his career, and family or not, they worked for him.
Gabi nodded tersely. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then seemed to let it go. Gael focused on the book he’d been reading on his phone and tried very hard not to think about Perla or the project.
Dwelling on ancient history was not a habit he indulged in.
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