Chapter Two Anya quelled a spurt of incredulous anger. “I most certainly will not. My father denied your suit three years ago. As did my brother, when you persisted. You want my dowry, Vasili. You have no regard for me at all.” A cynical smile curved the corners of his mouth beneath his blond mustache. She’d always disliked men with mustaches. “I don’t deny it,” he said coolly. “Why should I apologize for being ambitious? We’ll make a good team, you and I. You’re intelligent, for a woman. You know how to run a household, order servants. You’ll make an excellent hostess.” His gaze swept her features and a greedy, lecherous look kindled in his expression which made her skin crawl. “You know full well you’re beautiful. Admit it, you loved having all the boys panting after you at court, didn’t you? And this ice princess facade? I’ll melt it. Bedding you will be no hardship at all.” Anya snatched her hand away from his. Her expression must have shown her disdain because he raised an amused brow. “What’s the matter? I’ll make you like it.” She sent a panicked glance at the door. Where was Elizaveta? Vasili was watching…

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Callum dashed a hand through his hair as he paced the small waiting room in the Rambling Rose Medical Center emergency room. “In all my years of construction, I’ve never had something like that happen on one of our projects.” “We’ll figure out what caused it,” Wiley said from where he sat on a patterned chair situated against the far wall. “But first we need to make sure Grace is okay. She’s the priority right now.” Callum nodded. “You’re right. But what if it had been a hotel guest or one of the kids on that balcony when it collapsed? Can you imagine if there were people on the patio below?” Wiley understood his brother’s train of thought but felt oddly defensive at the subtle suggestion that the accident wasn’t as catastrophic because a mere employee had been injured. As if sensing his irritation, Callum held up a hand. He wore dark slacks and a button-down shirt that was covered with dust from the rubble of the mess that had been made when the balcony collapsed. “I’m not insinuating that Grace is disposable. I would never put her or any employee at risk. You know…

Thank you so much for allowing me the pleasure of being on your blog, it’s such an honor. I do hope everyone is having a fantastic holiday season! Enjoy this excerpt. *** “Well hell, look who’s decided to grace me with his presence again. Parker Jax. How the hell are you, man?” After hugging the man at the bar, Parker grinned when he stepped back. “Better, Marc. How about you? Place is looking good.” Marc Chariz shrugged and looked Skylar over and flashed one of his signature and patented sexy smiles. Known all over the world to get women to drop their panties. Parker wanted to punch him. “Marc, this is Skylar. Skylar Radford, the second-best damn Marine I’ve known, Marc Chariz.” Marc offered his hand and took hers with a smile. “You’re a delightful pleasure for this place. Nice to meet you.” The next second, he’d pulled her into a hug and whispered something into her ear. “You didn’t do her justice when you told us about this stunning woman, my friend. I used to serve with this old codger. If I need a stand-in fiancée, can I hire you?” Skylar laughed. “Don’t let her go, and we’re no…

“What do you mean she’s not coming?” Garth asked, speaking into his cell phone, while rubbing a frustrated hand down his face. He had arrived in Santa Cruz ex­pecting the woman selected by the dating service to be there already. She wasn’t. “I got a call from the dating service,” Charm said. “Evidently there was some kind of mix-up in the dates. They regret their error and are hoping you will consider rescheduling.” Anger rose, heating Garth’s face. A mix-up in the dates? He expected better from a company that prided itself on being the best in the business. “Since there’s no reason to remain here, I’ll let Regan know I’ll be on the plane with her when she leaves two days from now.” “Why?” Garth frowned. “Why what?” “Why are you coming back home? Don’t you think Cash can handle things while you’re gone?” Garth rolled his eyes. “Of course, I do. Had I thought he couldn’t, I would not have left him in charge.” “Then let him do it. It will make him feel important to the company.” “He is important to the company, Charm. All of you are.” “Then take the time off you so rightly deserve….

Eyes back on the road, Roman turned off St. Charles. Within blocks they were in a whole new world. Elegant homes lined up one after the other, their mix of Victorian and plantation architecture holding the modern century at bay. Wrought iron gates lined many of them—some as high as six feet and others no taller than her thighs. Massive oak and cypress trees stood like sentries in every direction. If it hadn’t been for the seat belt she’d put on, she’d have likely had her nose pressed to the window just to savor it all. Ahead, one in particular caught her eye. Where all the others were nestled close together, this one had extra land on either side. Ivy grew on the tall iron fence that surrounded it, with only the double gate at the center free to see through. Roman slowed in front of it, giving her time to gawk up at the tall windows that lined the front and the white columns between each one. The place was so majestic looking, she halfway expected Scarlett O’Hara to come sweeping out the front door in one of her big Southern belle getups. She’d thought he’d slowed to give…

Unable to stop himself any longer, Levi searched for Lyndi’s smaller form behind the wall of bigger men. He backed up a step and collided with a gaze so full of desolation, all red banked fire and heartache so raw, that he had to look away for a second to get his own violent reaction under control. When he looked back, Lyndi had dropped her gaze to the ground, hiding from him. Confusion drowned out every other emotion rioting within him, so loud his head almost buzzed with it. What had that look been? Because if it was even a hint of what he hoped it could be… The gods had shit timing. Until this second, with the way she constantly sniped at him, and had from the moment they met, he’d believed she hated him. Carried a grudge for that first misunderstanding, and all the misunderstandings that followed. She’d always taken his need to protect her the wrong way. He hadn’t wanted her to build her orphanage in a human home, so unprotected and vulnerable, not because she wasn’t capable but because he expected the Alliance to show up unexpectedly and wipe out all the boys they felt were…

His shoulders tensed at the thought of her dancing with other men, looking the way she did tonight. He blew out a breath through his nose and deliberately drew his shoulder back down. It was none of his god­damn business whom she danced with. “Like I said, sometimes impulsivity leads to the best sort of fun.” Taking on a life of its own, his thumb drew soft circles on her lower back. “How else would we have had this great opportunity to build rapport?” “Now it’s rapport-building?” She held his eyes and her lips lifted into a Mona Lisa smile. “This keeps getting better and better.” With their heads bent close to hear each other, the sexy-as-hell hint of whiskey on her breath was driv­ing him wild. He lowered his head imperceptibly to breathe in her scent, and she shivered in his arms. She felt the magnetic pull, too, and it was damn hot. When her eyes searched his, he slowly angled his head until their lips were mere inches apart. Both of them drew back as though lightning had struck them. They were dancing in the middle of a crowd. They couldn’t do this. Breathing roughly, they gazed at…

Catching Zayn’s arm in her bony talon as they passed, Roz hissed, “The unmasking will happen at the end of your dance! You’ll have to take the mask off for her—there’s a clasp in the back.” Then she let them go. Zayn led Mina to the dance floor, a pathway clear­ing before them. Other dancers left the floor as they approached the center, a warm spotlight finding them as they came to a stop, facing each other. He wasn’t sure whether it was due to the rush of success in dodging Roz, or simply the primal effect of Mina’s radiant glow in the spotlight, but although they were surrounded, the rest of the room slowly disap­peared as he looked at her. Reaching out his arms, he took her by the waist and pulled her body flush against his. As tall as she was in the heels and the mask, her head still came only to his shoulder, allowing him to rest his cheek on the smooth front of her mask, his own expression shielded by the emanating rays. Her dress was a warm second skin beneath his palm and her lush curves pressed against the hard planes of his own…

“So what do we do now?” Hannah asked. When she’d reopened the boutique, customers flooded the store. Russell had offered to help her until things slowed down. One hour had turned into two and in the blink of an eye the entire day had passed. She’d appreciated the help, but when she’d told him she felt guilty for keeping him from see­ing his family, he’d waved away her concern like it was no big deal. She’d wondered if he was avoid­ing them, then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Unlike her, he had a loving, supportive family. And for a man who’d never worked in retail and who hadn’t had a clue about women’s fashion, he’d done incredibly well. A woman who’d come into the boutique looking for the perfect blouse had left with three dresses, two pairs of pants and three pairs of earrings in addition to that blouse, all because Russell had said she’d looked nice in them. He’d also given thumbs down on two other dresses and the woman had left without them. More than providing her customers with a male’s perspective, Russell had served as the mus­cle she’d needed, carrying boxes for her. He’d also unpacked and…

Half a dozen women, standing by a makeshift bar in Didcote’s Air Transit Auxiliary’s mess turned appraising faces toward us. For one panicky moment I felt I was back at boarding school on the first day of term. “Good morning, Miss Redfern, I’m Vera Abercrombie, Didcote’s commanding officer.” A compact looking woman with a direct no nonsense gaze introduced herself. I suppose, like everyone else who first met her, I was surprised that the Didcote ATA commanding officer wasn’t the standard issue senior male RAF officer with a waxed moustache. Vera Abercrombie was probably in her mid-thirties, but her fair northern skin was deeply lined, either from years of flying, or put there by the burdensome responsibility of her war-time job. She carried a clip-board with a sheaf of papers pinned to it and her glance strayed to it often, as if she might have inadvertently overlooked some small but important detail. There are not many women who have shot to the heights of command that Vera Abercrombie had achieved, without being conscious of their seniority every hour of their long working day, but there was no arrogance in her greeting and no feeling that this was her ‘show,’ and…