- In THE LAST CORRESPONDENT, It’s 1943. WWII is raging and the invasion of Normandy is on the horizon. Ella Franks is fired after her editor learns she’s a woman and using a fake man’s name. She refuses to “shut up” and is hired by the AP to do reporting on women’s issues from England. Once across the pond she meets war correspondents and sets her eyes on reporting from war-torn France.
- Feisty American photojournalist Danni Bradford has been covering wars for years with her best friend and partner, Andy. She is always coming up against the brass for being a woman. She is determined to cover the events unfolding in Normandy, and to locate Andy’s sister, Vogue model Chloe, who has made her way to France disguised as a Moulin Rouge dancer. Once in France she follows her lover, Gabriel into the French Resistance.
- Tragedy brings Danni, Ella and Chloe together, and they form a capable and efficient team. Each woman is determined to follow her dreams “no matter what”, and to make her voice heard over the noise of war.
- In France, they face danger at every turn, even from the US soldiers. Danni, Ella and Chloe will have to rely on each other if they want to file their stories and survive. Will the adventure and love they find be worth the journey of their lives?
- I’m always excited about a book that features smart, strong women, especially women fighting the status quo. THE LAST CORRESPONDENT was particularly interesting for me, since I was a journalist. (just in the US) The characters were all fleshed out and compelling. Somehow I felt proud of what they represented, making women equal to men. I read it in one sitting. You may need some tissues close by.
Soraya M. Lane graduated with a law degree before realizing that law wasn’t the career for her and that her future was in writing. She is the author of historical and contemporary women’s fiction, and her novel Wives of War was an Amazon Charts bestseller.
Soraya lives on a small farm in her native New Zealand with her husband, their two young sons and a collection of four legged friends. When she’s not writing, she loves to be outside playing make-believe with her children or snuggled up inside reading.
For more information about Soraya and her books, visit www.sorayalane.com
Thanks to Suzy Approved Book Tours we have one digital copy to giveaway. Just tell us what you think about the news. We’ll choose a winner soon. Good luck.
GIVEAWAY: USA only please
- Best-selling authors, Jodi Thomas, Sharla Lovelace and Scarlett Dunn share three novellas in a collection featuring three Texas cowboys in THE COWBOY WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS(Kensington). The Civil War is over, Christmas is coming and its time for three rugged cowboys to hang up their spurs and settle down.
- FATHER GOOSE by Jodi Thomas. Dispirited by war, when Trapper Morgan accepts a job hauling five little rich girls to Dallas, all he cares about is the money. He doesn’t expect they’ll awaken his spirit – or that their intriguing nursemaid, Carolina, will awaken his heart. And when danger strikes as Christmas Eve nears, he definitely doesn’t expect Carolina and the girls to risk their lives – for him.
- THE MISTELTOE PROMISE by Sharla Lovelace. A catastrophic storm, an ailing herd and a falling ranch have left Texas rancher Josie Bancroft in danger of losing everything her father worked for. Still, she’d rather die than merge with her neighbor rancher Benjamin Mason, the man who broke her heart years ago, on Christmas Eve. As old sparks fly and secrets are revealed, however, Ben is determined to help Josie – and prove this time around can be different. That the misunderstanding of Christmas past need not define their future.
- CHRISTMAS ROAD by Scarlett Dunn. Yellow Fever has hit Clint Mitchum’s hometown and taken this father and siblings, leaving Clint ever more cynical. Racing homeward to be at his mother’s side, Clint finds a note from her, asking that he help her caregiver, a young woman named Amelia. Assuming his mother has passed, in his grief Clint ventures out to search for Amelia – and finds the best of gifts – just in time for Christmas.
- We’re lucky to have one copy of THE COWBOY WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS to giveaway. Just tell us your plans for the upcoming holidays. We’ll choose a winner soon. Good luck. GIVEAWAY: USA only please.
- Thanks to Kate Rocks Book Tours we have one copy to giveaway. Just tell us your thoughts about preserving nature. I personally think its incredibly important to save nature and our planet for future generations. We’ll announce a winner soon. Good luck.
- Get ready for the 10th book in the 11 part series of RaeAnne Thayne’s, “Haven Point series (Harlequin).” Luke finds Elizabeth seven years after she left. And he hopes its going to be a much brighter Christmas, for him and their two kids this year.
- Luke’s wife and the mother to his children Cassie and Bridger, left them seven years ago, without a word and since then, Luke has been under the suspicion of killing her. It’s made it tough for the three of them to live under the glare of rumors.
- Luke finds out his wife is in Cannon Beach, Oregon and he leaves Haven Point, Idaho to bring her home and for her to tell the truth to the District Attorney who wants to lock him up. Once he arrives, he gives her an hour to pack for two nights. She tries to make small talk and he’s full of rage and ignores her for most of the eight hour trek in his truck. His temper is peaked and he kisses her out of anger. He tells her she can’t see the kids.
- Once she’s sitting down with the DA and telling her story he realizes he’s made a mistake. She really had to leave and she’s suffered so much. He brings her home to meet the kids, her children, but 10-year old Cassie wants nothing to do with her. Christmas is just around the corner and he’s mad that he’s falling for her all over again and Elizabeth thinks he hates her. He invites her to stay longer and they start being seen together to squash rumors and celebrating the season.
- I don’t want to tell you anymore, but I can tell you you’re going to need a lot of tissues to finish COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS. You’ll end up loving the Hamilton family. It’s the perfect book to read while sipping tea of hot chocolate. It’s about love, secrets, trust and gratitude.
- We have one copy to give away. Just tell us how you plan to celebrate the holidays. We’ll pick a winner soon. Good luck. GIVEAWAY: US only, please.
An explosively hot, enemies-to-lovers romance from New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates!Arrogant, infuriating, insufferable…
And the sexiest man she’s ever met.
Wren Maxfield hates Creed Cooper, but now she’s working with the wealthy rancher over the holidays! Those strong feelings hide undeniable chemistry…and one wild night results in pregnancy. Now Creed vows to claim his heir. That means proposing a marriage in name only. But as desire takes over, is that a deal they can keep?
From Harlequin Desire: Luxury, scandal, desire—welcome to the lives of the American elite.
Gold Valley Vineyards
HERE’S AN EXCERPT OF CLAIMING THE RANCHER’S HEIR:
Creed Cooper was a cowboy. A rich, successful cowboy from one of the most well-regarded families in
Logan County. He also happened to be tall, muscular and in possession of the kind of good looks a lot of
As a result, nearly nothing—or no one—was off-limits to him.
No one except Wren Maxfield.
Maybe that was why every time he looked at her his hands itched.
To unwind that tight bun from her hair. To make that mouth, which was always flattened in
disapproval—at least around him—get soft and sexy and get all over his body.
And he had that itch a lot, considering he and Wren were the representatives for their respective
families’ vineyards. Rivals, in fact.
And she hated him.
She hated him so much that when she saw him her eyes flared with a particular kind of fire.
Fair enough, since he couldn’t really stand her either.
But somehow, years ago, a piece of that dislike inside him had twisted and caught hard in his gut and
turned into an intensity of another kind entirely.
He was obsessed.
Obsessed with the idea he might be able to use that fire in her eyes to burn up the sheets between
Instead, he had to listen to her heels clicking on the floor as she paced around the showroom of
Cowboy Wines, looking like a smug cat, making him wait to hear whatever plan it was she’d come to tell
“Are you listening to me?” she asked suddenly, her green cat eyes getting sharp.
She was dressed in a tight-fitting red dress that fell to the top of her knees. It had a high, wide neck,
and while it didn’t show a lot of skin, it hugged her full breasts so tight it didn’t leave a lot to the
Even if it had, his imagination was damn good. And it was willing to work for Wren. Overtime.
She had on those ridiculous spiked heels, too. Red, like the dress. He wanted to see her in only those
He wasn’t into prissy women. Not generally. He liked a more practical girl. A cowgirl who would be at
home on his ranch.
Wren looked like she never left her family showroom, all glass walls and wrought iron furniture.
Maxfield Vineyards was the premier wine brand for people who were up their own asses.
And still, he wanted her.
That might be her greatest sin.
That she tested control he’d had firmly leashed for the last eighteen years and made him want to
send it right to hell as he burned in her body.
Of all the reasons to hate Wren Maxfield, wanting her and not being able to do a damn thing to make
himself stop was number one on the list.
He looked around the Cowboy Wines showroom, the barrels with glass tabletops on them, the heavy,
distressed beams that ran the length of the room.
And then there was him: battered jeans and cowboy boots, a hat for good measure.
Everything a woman like Wren would hate.
A testament to just why there was no reason to carry a burning torch for her fine little body.
Too bad his own body was a dumbass.
“I wasn’t listening at all,” he said, making sure to drawl it. As slow as possible. He was rewarded with
a subtle flare of heat in those eyes. “Make it more interesting next time, Wren. Maybe do a dance.”
“The only dancing I’ll ever do is on your grave, Creed.”
The sparring sent a kick of lust through him. They did this every time they were in a room together.
Every damn time. No matter that he knew he shouldn’t indulge it.
But hell, he was afraid the alternative was stripping her naked and screwing her against the nearest
wall, and that wasn’t a real option.
So verbal sparring it was.
“What did I die of?” he asked. “Boredom?”
Those eyes shot sparks at him. “It was tragic. You were found with a high heel protruding out of your
chest.” Her magic lips curved upward and he felt it like she’d pressed them against his neck.
“Any suspects so far?”
“Your own smart mouth. Are you going to listen to me or not?”
“You’re already here. So am I. Might as well.”
He leaned back in his chair and, for effect, put his boots up on the table.
Her top lip curled up into a sneer, and that thrilled him just as much as if she’d crossed the room to
straddle his lap. Okay, maybe not just as much, but he loved that he got to her.
He’s a Bollywood superstar, she’s a personal assistant… And their one night proves that keeping things professional will be impossible in this passionate and uplifting Cinderella romance from Tara Pammi.
A brief encounter… A forbidden fairy tale!
The hottest actor in Bollywood, Vikram Raawal has found love countless times—when he’s playing a role. In real life, he’s given up on finding a soul-deep connection and prefers to focus entirely on his career. Until at a masquerade ball, one woman leaves him craving more…
Naina Menon’s first impression of drop-dead gorgeous Vikram left much to be desired. But then one heart-stopping night shows her there’s so much more to him than his celebrity persona. Still, he’s a billionaire, and she’s a humble assistant. Is passion enough to bridge their different worlds?
From Harlequin Presents: Escape to exotic locations where passion knows no bounds.
Here’s an excerpt from CLAIMING HIS BOLLYWOOD CINDERELLA:
Vikram Raawal walked up the steps of Raawal Mahal, his family’s two-hundred-year-old palatial ancestral bungalow. It was the only property his parents had left unsullied by their still-tempestuous marriage of forty years.
The muggy October afternoon was redolent with the pungent aroma of the jasmine creeper that his grandfather had planted for his wife all those years ago.
His grandparents had shared a love story that couldn’t be recreated by all the glittering sets and stars of Bollywood. If not for the fact that Vikram had very clear memories of them—Daadu and Daadi sitting side by side listening to ghazals on the gramophone, sharing stories with him and his younger brother and sister, Daadi keeping silent vigil by her husband’s side as he vanished away into nothing…he would have scoffed at even the idea of such a love.
But he had seen it. He’d been a part of it. He’d found comfort and joy in its shadow. And today, at the age of thirty-six, memories of that love hit him hard.
He was lonely, he admitted to himself, as he walked through the gated courtyard toward the main bungalow. The strains of an old ghazal played on the gramophone player, sinking sweetly into his veins, slowly releasing the pent-up tension he’d been carrying. He laughed at the mural his younger brother, Virat, had painted on one wall where a profusion of plants and flowerpots sat on an elevated concrete bench.
The cozy bungalow, full of sweet memories and peaceful childhood associations, was his favorite place in the world. And yet, he had avoided visiting for almost two months, using out-of-country shoots and overloaded scheduling as excuses.
But here in this place where he was just Vikram and not Vikram Raawal, Bollywood star, and the chairman of the family production company Raawal House of Cinema, he couldn’t lie to himself.
He hadn’t wanted to expose himself to his daadi’s brand of perceptiveness. He hadn’t wanted her to see how unhappy he’d been of late. How…unsettled in his own skin.
The raucous burst of a man’s laughter punctured his thoughts. It was Virat.
For a few seconds, Vikram considered turning around and walking out. His recent argument with his brother had been far dirtier than their usual headbutting over projects for Raawal House. Being called arrogant and dominating by a brother that he loved and respected had…shaken him.
The laughter came again and Vikram’s curiosity trumped his reluctance. He walked through the grand salon, filled with his grandfather’s trophies and accolades from a career that had lasted close to five decades in Bollywood.
Vijay Raawal had not only been a celebrated actor and director but had built his career from the ground up after traveling the country with a theater group for years. Started his own production company, and taken the industry in a new direction. Made mainstream films, art projects, and careers of many stars and never once lost his integrity.
How had his grandfather sustained such a glittering career in such a superficial and cutthroat industry? Had it been simply the unconditional support Daadi had offered him through everything?
After fifteen years and numerous box office hits in Bollywood, Vikram had suddenly found himself filled with a strange feeling of discontent all of a sudden. But it was more than creative burnout. In a cinematic twist, he’d found himself wanting the same kind of support and affection from someone that Daadi had given Daadu while knowing that he wasn’t actually capable of returning it.
In a crazy moment of impulse, he’d asked his best friend Zara to marry him. Thankfully, Zara had instantly said no. That he had even considered marriage in the first place—even if it was to his oldest and longest friend, showed how unlike himself he was currently feeling.
He nodded at Ramu Kaka—his grandfather’s old manservant, as old and comfortingly familiar as the bungalow itself.
The first thing that hit him as he entered the expansive sitting room was the subtle scent of roses. Every inch of him stilled as he stood over the threshold, his long form hidden from his daadi and Virat by the L-shaped angle of the hall. They were lounging on the divan, while a number of their servants stood huddled by the other door that led to the huge kitchen. Every mouth twitched in varying degrees of smiles.
In the middle of the room, kneeling on the rug, was a young woman with her face in profile to Vikram. Evening sunlight filtered through the high windows in the room and lit up her silhouette. The first thing he noted was the dark halo of her hair, curly and thick like her very own crown, that swung from side to side every time she moved her head, and huge glittering earrings that reminded him of the crystal chandelier Mama had spent thousands of dollars on in some Italian boutique.
The earrings swayed enchantingly every time the young woman moved her head. And she did it a lot. His mouth curved.
Wide eyes, pert nose and a lush mouth moved in constant animation, along with her plump body. Almost anesthetized by seeing size zero bodies on movie sets, he let his gaze return to the voluptuous lines of her body with a curious fascination. A white cotton kurta hugged her breasts, a long chain of glittery beads dancing over them.
White stones on tiny half-moon gold hoops glinted in a perfect line over the shell of her left ear, winking mischievously in the waning sunlight. With her multihued skirt spread out around her in a kaleidoscope of colors, she was a gorgeous burst of color against a gray landscape.
Full of life and verve and authenticity he hadn’t seen in a long time.
A thrilling sliver of excitement bloomed in his gut even as he frowned at the oversized stuffed teddy bear on the floor in front of her. Suddenly, the woman opened her mouth and screamed.
The cry was deep rather than shrill, perfectly modulated, and eerily familiar.
Vikram watched in increasing fascination as she extended her arms and bent to scoop up the stuffed toy from the ground into her arms. The gold and silver-colored bracelets she wore on one wrist tinkled at the moment, adding their own background score to the entire scene.
And then it came to him.
She was enacting a scene. From a recent movie. His latest action thriller.
She was…mocking him?
She was imitating the cheesiest line he’d ever said in front of a camera and she was doing a fantastic job of pinpointing everything he’d hated about the movie and in particular, that scene.