Sneak Peek Excerpt & ARC Giveaway - - The Twelve Months of Christmas

 

One of the things I look forward to every fall is a new holiday-themed book from Sheila Roberts. Filled with heart, charm, and humor, reading a Roberts' books is like curling up in front of a roaring fire with a mug of hot chocolate, a cozy blanket, and more than a few chuckles. In other words, a whole lot of enjoyment. Here's a sneak peek from her upcoming novel, The Twelve Months of Christmas. I'm eager to read it. 

...PJ  

The Twelve Months of Christmas

by Sheila Roberts

Publisher: MIRA

Release Date: October 3, 2023

Sunny, Arianna and Molly are having three very different but equally terrible Christmases. Sunny is a newlywed with two new stepkids who want nothing to do with her; Arianna is newly divorced and hates having to send her daughter off to spend the holiday with her dad; for Molly, nothing is new, but her job at the post office is getting very, very old.

The whole Christmas season has been a bust all around. But Sunny and Arianna have a wild idea: What if they had a Christmas do-over in January? February? On Saint Patrick’s Day?

Christmas all year long—what could that look like? As these three determined women chase the perfect holiday through twelve months of cooking disasters, over-the-top festivity, and lots of laughter and tears, they’ll discover perfection is way overrated.

Excerpt

The Twelve Months of Christmas

by Sheila Roberts

Molly was pooped and her feet hurt. The last thing she wanted was to go out. But when Arianna had called, she was insistent that Molly go out to dinner with her and her new friend Sunny. 

            “You can rest your feet at Horse and Cow,” she’d said. 

            So here they were, in the popular pub that had been part of downtown Bremerton for seventy years. It was small and noisy but offered plenty of atmosphere, displaying all kinds of submarine memorabilia as a tribute to the city’s naval history. And it served the best burgers in town. 

            With her blond hair and happy smile, Sunny was well named. Molly was instantly charmed. 

            And felt old next to these two, especially when Sunny talked about doing a repeat of Christmas with a party in January. “It would be so much fun,” she enthused. 

            “And so much work,” Molly said. This all sounded like a pain in the posterior to the bushed postal worker. 

            “Not necessarily. If we all pitched in,” Sunny argued. 

            “Of if we went somewhere,” said Arianna. “Like up to the mountains.” 

            A whole day driving up to the mountains, wandering around in the cold. “You two have fun. I don’t ski.” 

            “Me, neither,” said Sunny, “but I like to go inner tubing.” 

            “I’d probably fall off,” Molly said, and Arianna frowned in disapproval over her lack of enthusiasm. “Plus, it would take hours just getting there.” 

            “But your granddaughter would love it,” said Arianna. 

            “Paisley’d love going to a movie, too. And I can sit through that.” Their hamburgers arrived, and Molly dug into hers. 

            “What if we went somewhere nearby?” Sunny said. She snapped her fingers. “Ice-skating!” 

            “There’s no rink here,” said Arianna. 

            “There is in Edmonds. We catch the Kingston Ferry, and it’s only a quick ride away. I bet Sophie would love it.” 

            “So would Paisley,” said Arianna, looking at Molly. 

            “I wouldn’t have to skate, would I?” Molly asked. 

            “You can take pictures,” Arianna told her. 

            “I could do that,” Molly said. 

            And, after her holiday slacking, her daughter would be thrilled to see her doing more activities with Paisley. Maybe Ava would come, too. 

            “It would be a great Christmas do-over,” Sunny said, and chomped on a French fry. 

            “I’m all about trying again,” said Arianna. “I need some holiday happiness. I have a whole year worth of misery to make up for.” 

            “This could be a good start,” Sunny said. 

            “Maybe it will be enough to hold me through February,” Arianna said and frowned. “That’s going to be a fun month, with Valentine’s Day to look forward to.” 

            Sunny turned thoughtful. “What if you had something else to look forward to?” 

            “Christmas in February?” Molly joked. Oh, no. She could tell by their expressions that the other two were taking her seriously. 

            “Oh, yes!” Sunny enthused. “Let’s leave our trees up and decorate them for V-Day.” 

            “Heck, let’s leave them up in March and decorate them with shamrocks,” said Arianna. 

            “Let’s hire leprechauns to come clean our houses and bring us energy drinks,” Molly said. These two were getting out of control. 

            “What if you could do Christmas all year?” Arianna mused. She turned to Molly. “I know how people treat you at the post office during the holidays. Wouldn’t it be nice to enjoy that holiday cheer without the stress of the Christmas rush?” 

            Actually, it would. But she didn’t need twelve months of it, did she? 

            “Christmas all year long—my step-kids would love it!” Sunny exclaimed. “What if we did something different around the twenty-fifth of every month to celebrate Christmas?” 

            It sounded like work to Molly. 

            “I’m so in,” Arianna said. “This last year has been miserable, and I’ve had enough of that. I want to make my life worth living again.”

            “A new one is waiting,” said Sunny, who was obviously an optimist. “And I’m determined to spread the love to my in-laws.” 

            “I could stand to rediscover my joy,” Molly admitted. “But all year long?” 

            “Why not? It would give us something to look forward to every month,” said Sunny. 

            “A new year of new beginnings,” Arianna added with a smile. 

            “I’m all about that,” Sunny said. “No matter what life throws at us we can keep our stockings hung and fill our lives with good stuff.” 

            “Keep up our trees and our spirits,” chimed in Arianna. She looked expectantly at Molly. 

            It all sounded great, but Molly still hesitated. “Umm.” 

            “No grumpy postal patrons involved. Good times with your granddaughter,” Arianna said. Then she added the kicker. “You can make up for falling asleep during her winter program.” 

            “Okay, I’m in,” Molly relented. Maybe, if she had a whole year, she could even find time to make those bonbons with Paisley. 

            “All right! Here’s to twelve months of Christmas,” Sunny said, raising her glass of beer. 

            Arianna raised her glass also. “Twelve months of Christmas. Better attitudes, better times, cookies, presents …”           

            “And a partridge in a pear tree,” Molly finished and raised her glass of Pepsi as well. She had to be out of her mind to let these two talk her into this. 

            But maybe she needed something fun to look forward to every month. Maybe she could rediscover the enthusiasm she’d once felt for the holidays. For life. She’d fallen into a rut. It was way past time to crawl out. She only hoped she’d have the energy. 

            After Arianna dropped her off, she texted Mia. 

Molly:  You will not believe what your daughter has just suckered me into. 

Mia:  Neighborhood block party? 

Molly: Worse! Christmas all year long. 

Mia: Sounds charming. Ho, ho, ho. 

Molly:  I ho, ho, hope I survive it! 

            This was going to be an interesting year.

 ~~~~~~~~~

Readers, would you be up for celebrating each month, all year long? What would that look like in your life? 

Have you read Sheila Roberts yet? Or seen the television movies based on her books?

When do you start reading holiday books? Or, like me, do you read them all year long?

Two randomly chosen people who post a comment by 11:00 PM, September 15 will receive a print ARC of The Twelve Months of Christmas.

*U.S. only

*Must be 18

Sheila Roberts 

Before launching her author career, Sheila Roberts owned a singing telegram company, wrote music and played in a band. Now Sheila is the USA Today bestselling author of more than 50 novels, including ON STRIKE FOR CHRISTMAS, which was made into a Lifetime Network movie. Also adapted for the small screen, Sheila’s THE NINE LIVES OF CHRISTMAS is a perennial Hallmark channel favorite, and CHRISTMAS ON CANDY CANE LANE debuted on The Great American Family Channel in December. The author has sold more than three million copies of her novels. A cancer survivor, she is a sunny extrovert who loves to entertain her girlfriends and readers at author events and visit with book clubs. Sheila resides in Washington state with her husband, not far from where THE TWELVE MONTHS OF CHRISTMAS takes place. For more information about Sheila, visit www.sheilasplace.com. 

    Sheila’s author Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/funwithsheila

 

    Sheila’s Instagram author page: https://www.instagram.com/sheilarobertswriter/ 

    Sheila’s TikTok page  https://www.tiktok.com/@sheilarobertswriter

    Sheila’s BookBub page:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/sheila-roberts 

    Sheila’s Goodreads page:  https://www.goodreads.com/sheilaroberts

 

Sneak Peek Excerpt & Giveaway - - Mermaid Beach

Mermaid Beach

by Sheila Roberts

Moonlight Harbor - - Book 7

Publisher: MIRA

Release Date: April 25, 2023

Bonnie Brinks and her all-woman band, The Mermaids, are the pride of Moonlight Harbor. They’re the house band at The Drunken Sailor, and that’s just the right amount of fame for Bonnie. A lifetime ago, she went to Nashville to make it big, but she returned home with a broken heart and broken dreams. Now she’s got a comfortable life and a brilliant daughter, Avril, who plays for The Mermaids alongside Bonnie and Bonnie’s mother, Loretta.

Avril has big dreams of her own. Her life in Moonlight Harbor is good—she loves singing and playing guitar with The Mermaids, and she has the sweetest, most loyal boyfriend a girl could ask for—but it all feels so…small. She can’t help wondering if there’s something more out there for her. And she doesn’t understand why her mom won’t support her going to Nashville to find out.

Meanwhile, Bonnie threw in the towel on her love life long ago, but Loretta sure hasn’t. She’s determined to be swept off her feet, and she wants the same for her daughter. When the hunky new owner of The Drunken Sailor turns the tables on the band and Avril announces she’s leaving Moonlight Harbor, Bonnie’s comfortable life seems to be drifting away. Will these three generations of Mermaids find their happy endings on the Washington coast? Or will the change in the winds leave them all shipwrecked?

Excerpt

Mermaid Beach

“Let’s go play some pool,” Lee said, after he and his buddy, J.J., walked into The Drunken Sailor. “You can check out the house band.” 

“You got a house band? What are they, a bunch of grungy kids in their twenties?” 

Lee smiled at that. “Not quite. It’s a chick band.” 

“A chick band. Interesting. So, grungy chicks in their twenties.” 

“Nope. Mother, daughter and granddaughter. They had another, but she’s off to Nashville to try to become a star. They’re still good though, especially the lead singer. That woman sings like an angel, sometimes like a little devil. And she is something fine to look at. They’ve really been packing in the crowds on the weekend.” 

“That’s good.” 

“The place is doing well,” said Lee. “I know you shouldn’t do business with friends, but since you were in the restaurant business and since you’re the man with the business degree, I thought I’d give you first crack at it.” He suddenly looked wistful. “I kind of hate to let the place go. It’s like losing a part of me.” 

J.J. nodded. “I know how you feel. I hated to let go of my places. Did it all for nothing,” he said bitterly. 

His words brought on an awkward silence. He should have kept his shit to himself. He shook off the downer moment. “Let’s shoot some pool.” 

“Good idea,” said Lee. “And, J.J., I get you not wanting to get sucked into this business again. I’d have liked you to be the one who takes over The Drunken Sailor, but no worries. The right owner will show up.” 

Maybe the right owner had shown up, J.J. thought as they drank beer and waited their turn at one of the pool tables. The place was packed. Lots of out-of-towners, but Lee said he had a ton of regulars who came in during the week as well. Line dancing lessons were offered on Sunday afternoons followed by line dancing. A lot of the old guys came in midweek to play darts, and Lee had recently started a ladies’ night, with half off on drinks on Tuesdays and pool lessons taught by some of the better players, including a guy named Seth Waters, who had been a regular before he got married. According to Lee, he still came in to play pool on Sundays while his wife and her girlfriends line danced. 

“You’ve done a great job of making this the place to be,” J.J. said as they moved to take their turn at a table that had opened up. 

“I like to think so,” said Lee. “Thank God I got lots of good free advice from a pro when I first started.” 

“What are friends for?” J. J. responded. He selected a cue stick and chalked it up. 

“Go ahead and break,” Lee said. 

J.J. took aim at the cue ball, sending it clacking into the others. He sank one of the striped ones and then proceeded to clean the table. 

“Save some for me,” Lee protested. 

“Oh, yeah, I can’t let you lose. It would hurt your delicate feelings,” J.J. taunted. 

“And then I’d hurt your delicate nose,” Lee shot back. 

J.J. did miss the next ball. He stood back and let Lee take his turn. 

It was the end of the game for him because he caught sight of a woman with long red hair, a face that would launch a thousand ships, and legs that wouldn’t quit entering the place. She wore a short black leather jacket, hanging open to reveal a low-cut green top covering a very nice rack. Those fine legs were encased in tight jeans. She wore black boots that made him think of pirates and was carrying a guitar case. Holy Moly! Was that a member of the band Lee had told him about? 

Lee caught him staring. “That’s Bonnie Brinks, one of The Mermaids.” 

“I wouldn’t mind hooking her on my line.” 

“Fat chance. She’s a smiling ice maiden. Been single for years.” 

“Maybe she’s tired of being single,” J.J. mused. 

“Don’t hold your breath. But hey, she sure dresses up the place.” 

J.J. suspected that was about all she did. Lee had a tin ear. He’d probably hired the woman for her looks, despite his claims of her angelic singing. 

Behind her came a younger woman, tall like Bonnie but with darker coloring. Also a looker. And next to her walked a woman who’d never gotten the memo that she was a senior citizen, also wearing tight jeans and heels high enough to trip Tina Turner. She sported spiky white hair and the tips of the spikes were colored green. The mother. His mother sure didn’t look like that. This woman probably had every old geezer in the place ready to take her out. With all three women being so striking maybe nobody cared what they sounded like. 

“Had enough pool?” asked Lee. 

“I think I’ll go over to the bar and get another drink,” J.J. said. 

He snagged the last seat at the bar, one near the end next to a scruffy old dude in faded jeans and a peacoat, ordered another beer and watched as the women tuned up. They couldn’t sound as good as they looked. 

“The band’s good,” the old guy said. “They sing good, too,” he added and chortled over his crack. 

“You know them?” J.J. asked. 

“Of course. Everybody knows everybody here,” the old guy informed him. 

“Looks like this is a popular place,” J.J. observed. 

“Best burgers in town. Plus they have a senior menu.” 

Lee came up behind J.J., hovering like a salesman in a used car lot. “Hey there, Pete. I see you’ve met my pal J.J. This is Pete,” he said to J.J. “He’s one of our regulars. He won our last darts tournament.” 

“Beat out all the young pups,” Pete bragged. “You play darts?” he asked J.J. 

“Don’t take the bait,” said Lee. “He’ll just sucker you into a friendly wager and take your shirt.” 

“Aw, there you go, spoilin’ my fun,” Pete complained. 

A full house and steady patrons. It would be kind of cool to own this pub. A lot of work and time, but it wasn’t like he had much going on in his life anyway other than some day trading, hitting the gym and reading. In the last year he’d bought enough books to stock a small library. He needed something more to do. Lately, he felt like he was drifting with no purpose, no adventure on the horizon. What kind of adventures could he have here in Moonlight Harbor? 

At nine on the dot the hot redhead stepped up to the mike and said, “Hey everyone, let’s get this party started.” 

J.J. would have loved to start a party with her. His fingers itched to play with that gorgeous red hair of hers. 

She looked back at the granny on the drums, who began to bang her drumsticks together, counting off the beat, then the young girl hit the bass and the redhead began to bend those guitar strings all to hell. People rushed to the dance floor as she started to sing. “Get off your chair and get out here and shake your booty. You gotta start this party, so get out there and do your duty.” 

J.J.’s heart went into overdrive. This place was a gold mine, and Bonnie Brinks was the gold. What a voice! The woman was a superstar. He wondered what she was doing buried in the sand of a small beach town. 

“So whaddya think? The place is a good investment, right?” Lee said in his ear. 

“I’d say so,” said J.J. “Looks like the band is bringing in a lot of customers.” 

“We had a lot of customers even before the band,” Lee said. “People want to eat at a casual place with lots of atmosphere when they’re at the beach.” 

“You definitely got the atmosphere,” J.J. said. The goofy carved pirate statues were an obvious hit. He’d seen several people taking pictures with them. The pool tables had been in constant use since they’d walked in, and the beer was flowing. Lee did have a going concern. The band and dance floor were a bonus. And what a bonus that band was. 

The women finally went on break, the older one stopping at a table to say hello to some people. The younger one went to plop down next to a supersized young buck at a table near the bandstand, where her drink was already waiting. A boyfriend, of course. The guitar queen headed for the bar, stopping for a quick word here and there, deflecting a fat lounge lizard, nodding and smiling at something another patron said. 

She came up to the end of the bar next to J. J. and Lee. “Great job as always, Bonnie,” Lee said. 

“Thanks,” she said. Then to the bartender, “Got my Diet Coke, Madison?” 

“On its way,” the woman said and got busy getting her drink. 

“You’ve got a great band,” J.J. said to Bonnie. 

“Thanks,” she said. Her smile was a stop sign. Not interested, so don’t even try. 

What did he look like? Some middle-aged, desperate horn toad? He was just being friendly. There was no need to give him the ice treatment. 

He decided to turn the charm up a notch. “I always wanted to meet a mermaid.” 

“Now you have,” she told him, still with the stop sign smile. The bartender set down her glass, and Bonnie thanked her, the ice melting from her smile. But it was back again for J.J. “Try the garlic fries here,” she said to him. “They’re great.” Then she left before he could get in another word. 

Mermaids were not so easy to catch. 

“Don’t put her on the welcoming committee,” J.J. muttered. 

“Told ya,” said Lee. 

Slick and charming and no ring on his finger, which, considering his age—around hers—probably meant he’d ditched a wife somewhere along the way, Bonnie decided as she walked to the band table. With those blue eyes and that red hair and matching, neatly trimmed beard, he looked like some kind of troubadour from the Elizabethan era. Add broad shoulders and a well-sculpted chest, and he was a regular pheromone factory. 

And that stupid line about meeting a mermaid. Oh, yes, he was a charmer. 

Who did that remind her of? Rance Jackson, of course. 

Let’s get to know him, urged her sex-starved hormones. 

Not happening, she informed them, even though he was as tempting as sin. She could almost feel the tickle of that beard on her skin. But this was the kind of man who broke hearts—trouble in Levis. There would be no getting to know him. 

Put a Mr. Yuck sticker on him and stay far away. 

“It ain’t over till it’s over,” J.J. told his pal, quoting the famous Yogi Berra. 

“It ain’t even started,” Lee taunted. 

“I’ll find a way to start something,” J.J. vowed. 

He continued to watch Bonnie Brinks throughout the next set. She’d been mellow enough talking with Lee, visiting with patrons, but when she was singing those fast dance songs she caught fire. The fire turned to warm embers when she sang a love song, enough to probably make every man present fantasize about sleeping with her. She sure had that effect on J.J. 

What would it take to break the ice? 

He wasn’t the only one wondering that, if the tool who was trying to corner her by the bandstand was any indication. He was probably early forties, tall with legs like tree trunks and the arms of an overzealous body builder—or a dude on steroids. 

She cocked her head and looked up at him as he smiled down at her. He said something that dimmed her smile and moved in closer. She shook her head, tried to move to the side. He mirrored the move, giving her a smarmy smile in the process. 

“Uh-oh,” said J.J. 

Some men didn’t read road signs so well, and this guy wasn’t seeing the same stop sign she’d given J.J. He was the kind of jerk who gave men a bad a name. 

J.J. started to get off his stool. This goon needed a lesson in manners. 

Lee caught his arm. “Don’t bother.” 

“She needs help,” J.J. said, shaking it off. 

“No, she doesn’t. Watch.” 

J.J. watched reluctantly, ready to rush over the second the jerk laid hands on her. 

He started to, reaching out to catch a lock of her long auburn hair. 

“Okay, that’s it,” J.J. growled. 

“Yep, it is,” said Lee as Bonnie sweetly smiled at the dude and stomped on his instep. 

Sadly for the guy, he was wearing sneakers, and her spike heel drove into his foot in a way that had his mouth dropping in pain and him hopping on the one good foot he had left. She gave his arm a there-there pat, and left to join her mother and daughter and the supersized kid at their table. 

“Wow,” J.J. said. Bonnie Brinks really was something else. 

“The woman can take care of herself,” said Lee. 

No knight in shining armor needed. Darn. So much for impressing her with his chivalry. 

But she had to need something. Everyone did. Whatever it was, he hoped he could be the man to give it to her. Maybe he should buy the pub.

~~~~~~~~~

PJ, here. I've read an ARC of Mermaid Beach and it's one of my favorite stories in Sheila Roberts' heartwarming Moonlight Harbor series. This book has complex, relatable, multi-generation family dynamics, chasing dreams at a variety of ages, starting over, humor (love her humor), emotional depth, and more than one couple I was cheering for. It features some secondary characters who will be familiar to readers of the series but also works well as a standalone. It's a great place to jump into the series for those who have yet to visit Moonlight Harbor. 

Do you sing? Have you ever been in a band? 

Are you familiar with Sheila Roberts? Have you read any of her books? Are you reading the Moonlight Harbor series?

Is there a career dream you'd like to chase if given the opportunity?

THREE randomly chosen people who post a comment before 11:00 PM, March 16 will each receive a print ARC of Mermaid Beach. 

*U.S. only

*Must be 18

 

About Sheila Roberts

Before launching her author career, Sheila Roberts owned a singing telegram company, wrote music and played in a band. Now Sheila is the USA Today bestselling author of more than 50 novels, including ON STRIKE FOR CHRISTMAS, which was made into a Lifetime Network movie. Also adapted for the small screen, Sheila’s THE NINE LIVES OF CHRISTMAS is a perennial Hallmark channel favorite, and CHRISTMAS ON CANDY CANE LANE debuted on The Great American Family Channel in December. The author has sold more than three million copies of her novels. A cancer survivor, she is a sunny extrovert who loves to entertain her girlfriends and readers at author events and visit with book clubs. Sheila resides in a Washington state beach town with her husband, who is also an author.

For more information about the author, visit www.sheilasplace.com.        

Social media links:

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/funwithsheila

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/sheilarobertswriter/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/_Sheila_Roberts

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sheila-roberts

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClUWd1SxFGzd7NEkojcjDtA

Sneak Peek Excerpt & Giveaway - - What Happens in the Ballroom

 

What Happens in the Ballroom

by Sabrina Jeffries

Designing Debutantes - Book 2

Publisher: Zebra Books

Release Date: March 28, 2023

A young military widow, Eliza Pierce is enjoying both freedom and financial success as part of Elegant Occasions. When her late husband’s best friend, Nathaniel Stanton, the Earl of Foxstead, hires Elegant Occasions to help another young widow of an officer become part of high society, Eliza wonders why. Is the woman a relative? Or is she the earl’s mistress and her adorable toddler his child? If so, why does he take Eliza in his arms every chance he gets . . .
 
Foxstead’s family situation makes it difficult for him to marry, so his visceral attraction to his best friend’s widow is an unwelcome complication. Burdened by family secrets and those of his commanding officer, he’s determined to do his duty even when it means being around Eliza every day. But how can he resist when the fetching Eliza keeps tempting him to break his own rules? For if he dares to expose the truth, will she ever forgive him? Or will she banish him from her life forever . . .

Excerpt 2: What Happens in the Ballroom

“I confess that my sisters hate my feeding the birds,” she murmured. “The robins and blackbirds can be especially loud, and the nightingales sing too much for Diana and Verity during the very season of year when we come in exhausted before dawn. But the birds don’t bother me since I can’t ever go to bed right away anyway, so I like lying there listening to them.”

“Which explains why Geoffrey calls you a night-bird.”

She rolled her eyes. “He just prefers that everyone rise at dawn like he and Diana.”

That reminded him—Diana needed to be introduced to his ward. He turned toward the bench where the two women sat, and Eliza placed a hand on his arm.

When his gaze shot to her, she murmured, “Let them talk a minute and get to know each other.”

“But I must introduce Diana.”

“I already did, while you were examining the birdhouse.”

“Ah. I merely thought . . . well . . . Jocelin was nervous about meeting a duchess.”

“She doesn’t look it. Meanwhile, I send her into a fright every time.” Eliza lowered her voice. “The poor woman doesn’t like me, does she?”

He sighed. “I’m sure she would if not for who you are. To me, I mean. I should never have given in to the impulse to let her see me kiss you yesterday.”

“I regret that it happened, too.”

“You misunderstand me. I don’t regret the kisses. I just wish we could have indulged in them privately.” Where he could have embraced her and touched her breasts and had his very wicked way with her.

What was wrong with him? Jocelin had to be his first responsibility, so why was he risking alienating the very person who could get her settled in society? “Those kisses were all I could think of last night,” he admitted.

Because clearly he’d lost his damned mind.

“Says the rakehell with the notorious reputation,” she countered.

That chafed a bit. “Not anymore.”

“The rakehell part or the notorious reputation part?”

“The first. Once one has a notorious reputation, one can’t get rid of it easily.”

She smiled. “As my parents have repeatedly demonstrated.”

“But truthfully, it’s been some time since I’ve actually behaved like a rakehell.”

“I’m simply supposed to take your word for it?”

“You have to do what makes you comfortable.” He stole the bag of seed from her, taking care to run his finger across her palm as he did so. “And I have to do the same.” He scattered some seeds over the ledge himself as he fought to quell his racing heart. “After all, I still have a rakehell’s skills, which I can use very well. Do you doubt me?”

“No, indeed. You were very . . . skilled yesterday.” She cocked her head. “The question is how many women you use those skills with.”

“None in quite some years. Until you, anyway.” Taking her hand, he closed her fingers about the bag of seed and held it there, marveling at how delicate a hand she had. “I know you probably don’t believe it, but it’s true.”

War had changed him, no doubt about it. He’d seen too many women used and abused on the Peninsula not to be affected. His mother’s revelations had also taken a toll.

When Eliza finally slipped her hand from his, looking flustered and heated, he glanced over to see that Diana and Jocelin were gone. “We should go in.” He couldn’t believe Jocelin had left without saying a word to him.

“Not just now,” Eliza said.

He narrowed his gaze on her. “I beg your pardon?”

“She and Diana have gone up to the fitting room so they can try some gowns on her to determine what styles she looks best in.” She tilted her head up. “So unless you wish to see your ward in various stages of undress . . .”

“God, no.”

That seemed to please her, which definitely pleased him.

She thrust the bag of seeds in her apron pocket. “Then why don’t you and I discuss the plan for Jocelin that my sisters and I have developed? If you approve, I can spell out how much the fee would be.”

So they were back to business affairs. Fine. That was probably best. “I don’t care how much it is. I’ll pay it regardless.”

“Really.” She eyed him skeptically. “So, a hundred-thousand pounds sounds right to you?”

His mouth dropped open. “A hundred-thousand pou—”

Her peal of laughter cut off his outraged response. Trying to suppress a smile, she said, “In other words, you do care how much it is.”

“I have money, you little minx, and I’m willing to spend it to get Jocelin well-situated,” he snapped. It was the least he could do for her under the circumstances. “But that doesn’t mean I’m insane.”

“Thank goodness.” Her eyes twinkled. “I wouldn’t wish to go into business with a madman.”

Shaking his head, he flashed her a rueful smile. “What is the actual fee you’re proposing?”

She named a more reasonable figure, which was less than he’d been expecting.

“That sounds acceptable.”

“I can provide you with an estimated amount for each item or service we intend to provide. Just give me until tomorrow.”

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don’t need the details. I know none of you would cheat me.”

“Oh, you do, do you? Clearly you and Geoffrey are cut of a different cloth.”

He shrugged. “That’s because I was raised in the aristocracy while he was used to watching every penny. I suppose that’s what happens when you discover at his age that you’ve unexpectedly inherited a dukedom and all that goes with it. Old habits die hard, as they say.”

“True.” She gestured to the bench. “Why don’t we take a seat while we discuss everything my sisters and I have planned?”

“We could go inside and sit in the morning room.”

She hurried ahead of him to the bench. “I prefer the outdoors.”

“Clearly you do. But that’s not why you don’t wish to go in.” He chuckled. “You think being in the garden where your sisters can look out and see us will keep me from trying to kiss you.”

“Won’t it?” She sat down and spread her skirts around her in an obvious attempt to relegate him to the other end of the bench.

She obviously didn’t know him very well. Lifting a handful of her muslin skirts, he sat down close to her, then spread her skirts over his knee.

That seemed to flummox her. “A gentleman doesn’t commandeer a lady’s skirts, sir.”

“I’m not a gentleman,” he told her.

She frowned. “Weren’t you just telling me you’re not a rakehell anymore?”

“I’m not a rakehell either.” He hardened his voice. “I’m a soldier. And a soldier commandeers whatever he needs to win.”

“To win what?” she asked lightly.

“You.” 

 

Have you read Sabrina Jeffries? Are you reading the Designing Debutantes series? (Spoiler alert: I've read both books and loved them!) 

Do you keep birdhouses?

 

One randomly chosen person who posts a comment before 11:00 PM, March 10 will receive the above pictured package from Sabrina Jeffries, including a print ARC of What Happens in the Ballroom and assorted swag.  

*U.S. Only

*Must be 18

Sneak Peak Excerpt and Giveaway - - The Lady Knows Best

 

Susanna Craig is back with a new series and I couldn't be more excited. She kicked things off in December with a prequel novella, Nice Earls Do (read my review) that has had me eagerly anticipating the first full length book in the series. Then, when reading about that first book, The Lady Knows Best, I discovered it features Daphne Burke, a favorite secondary character from her Rogues and Rebels series. I love when authors circle back to give now grown up characters from an earlier series their own stories! 

Susanna has been gracious enough to share an exclusive excerpt from the upcoming The Lady Knows Best with us today along with a great giveaway. Read to the end of the post for more details. 

 

The Lady Knows Best

by Susanna Craig

Goode's Guide to Misconduct - Book 1

Publisher: Zebra Books

Release Date: April 25, 2023

Serving as the advice columnist, ‘Miss Busy B.’, for an often-subversive ladies’ magazine is the perfect outlet for Daphne Burke’s outspoken nature. But when she advises a young lady of the ton, to break off her engagement to a notorious rake, the consequences take Daphne beyond the page and into her real life.

 Miles, Viscount Deveraux, sometimes known as “that devil Deveraux” needs a respectable bride by the end of the Season, and he’s bet a fortune that he can get one. Now, his fiancée has not only changed her mind—but done it publicly, in a letter to London’s most infamous magazine. With the stakes high and time short, it seems reasonable to him that the columnist responsible should come to his rescue and marry him instead.
 
Fortunately for Miles, Daphne is eager to escape the pressures of the London marriage mart. She agrees to a courtship. But at the end of two weeks, she intends to turn him down in a big, splashy, scandal that will ruin her reputation and set her free. There’s just one shocking wrinkle: Who knew being ruined by a rake could be so much fun?

Exclusive excerpt from The Lady Knows Best by Susanna Craig, 

for The Romance Dish:

 

Daphne Burke’s first act as “Miss Busy B.,” the advice columnist for Mrs. Goode’s Magazine for Misses, is to encourage a young lady to call off her engagement to notorious rake Miles, Viscount Deveraux. But when Miles—who has a great deal of money riding on a wager that he will marry by the end of the Season—discovers Miss Busy B.’s true identity, he blackmails Daphne into finding him a new bride. Daphne offers to marry him herself, but only after a two-week courtship, during which time she intends to discover enough about “that devil, Deveraux” to ruin him in the eyes of society and then jilt him. But is Miles really the man she believed him to be?

 

In this scene, a few days into their courtship, Miles meets Daphne for a private conversation at a garden party.

 

*************

When a long silent moment passed, he asked, “Are you afraid that if we converse, you might discover something likeable about me? That you might find me amiable, amusing, attractive?”

Her lips twitched. “Not in the slightest.”

“Then I wonder why you insisted upon a courtship at all. If it distresses you, we could just go ahead and get married without it.” He slid closer and lightly covered her hand with his. “I can have a special license in hand first thing tomorrow.”

She jerked free of his touch. If it were not made of stone, the bench would have swayed with the force of her movement. “You needn’t keep reminding me of your power over me, my lord.”

Miles disguised his own uncertainty by gripping the edge of the bench.

“I suppose that’s why you sent me those quills—to mock me, as you did with that song.”

“Mock you?” he echoed, genuinely astonished. “Is it not a custom of proper courtship for a gentleman to send a token of his esteem?”

“Gentlemen send flowers.” The governess-y tone was back, a sort of exaggerated patience, as if she were delivering a lesson in etiquette to an unruly boy. “Bellis gets them by the cartload. Daisies, usually.”

If he hadn’t been watching, he would have missed the slight wobble of her chin as she spoke those words.

He didn’t think she begrudged her sister those gifts. Not exactly, anyway. But with every bouquet of flowers, every

reminder of her talented and famous elder siblings, she swallowed a pang of something like jealousy. Often enough

that it had become little more than a reflexive tickle in her throat.

And he had unwittingly made that irritation worse.

“I’m quite aware gentlemen send flowers.” He forced a lightness into his tone. “And setting aside any debate over whether that dubious distinction applies to me, I did in fact speak with the clerk at the florist’s shop, who explained to me the botanical meaning of your lovely name.” It was a source of some amusement in certain circles that all the Burke siblings were named after plants. “But a few branches from a shrub laden with poisonous berries didn’t seem quite the thing.”

That made her snicker. Reluctantly, to be sure. Just the tiniest hint of a laugh.

Nevertheless, his chest swelled with pride; he always enjoyed pleasing women. “I thought quills would be at least as apt as Bellis’s daisies. Something befitting the woman you really are. Sharp, yes, but soft too. Strong, but delicate.”

Like most women, in one way or another, he supposed.

But they’d seemed to him a particularly perfect gift for Daphne.

“I pictured you writing your column with them,” he finished simply.

She would start out with a straight spine and a spotless page. But as she went on, warming toward her subject, her quill would fly. Gradually, as if pouring a bit of herself into her words, she would bend her head closer to the paper.

He’d imagined pressing his lips to the soft skin that peeked between the collar of her dress and the few stray wisps of hair that tickled the back of her neck.

After a moment, she asked in a whisper, “Does that mean you intend to permit me to keep writing?”

The question was so unexpected, it took him a moment to comprehend. “Once we’re married, you mean?”

Her chin dipped, almost imperceptibly.

“I will not permit it, my dear,” he said. At that, her head spun and her gaze snapped to his. “I will insist upon it. I for one am eager to read your retraction.”

“My retraction?”

“Oh, yes.” He lifted his brows suggestively. “It should be easy enough to pen. Once you’ve discovered just how enjoyable it can be, being married to a rake.”

Was it his imagination, or was the spark in her eyes brighter now? Warmer?

Could it be that she enjoyed being teased?

Oh, but that was promising indeed.

“I assume you refer to that old saw about reformed rakes.” She tilted her head toward him and favored him with a look he was fast coming to consider her “Miss Busy B. expression”—part disapproving governess, part insufferable know-all, part inquisitive young lady who couldn’t quite make herself look away, though she knew she ought. “Tell me, my lord. Do you have any intention of reforming?”

He stretched out his legs and leaned back as much as the bench would allow. In a more comfortable chair, his posture would have been described as a sprawl—a blatant invitation for her gaze to travel his body, head to toe. “Which of my vices would you have me give up? My bootmaker? My tailor? Surely, you do not want a shabby bridegroom, ma’am.”

Again, the quirk of lips that were determined not to betray a smile.

“Or perhaps you object to my French cologne?”

“Your French brandy, rather,” she retorted. “Your gambling. Your . . .” Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible above the chatter rising from the garden below. “. . . flirtations.”

A little frippery of a hat sat perched high upon her head. Beneath it, her hair was more simply arranged today, the sort of coiffure that could be mussed by a man’s careless fingers without anyone being the wiser. And her gown was pale, diaphanous muslin, embroidered with a green vine and the occasional pink rosebud. Perfect for a garden party. On this warm day, its skirts clung to her limbs most provocatively.

He raked his gaze over her, tipping his head to the side.

“Must I stop flirting with you?

Have you read any of Susanna Craig's books?

Do you enjoy when authors return to a beloved series to feature a now adult character? Are there any stories in particular that you're still waiting for? 

One randomly chosen person who comments before 11:00 PM, February 24 will receive a signed, print advance copy of The Lady Knows Best from Susanna (two months before publication!).

U.S. only

Must be 18