HERE BE NEWS for Monday October 4, 2021

 

                            

Monday October 4, 2021 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:

Tuesday September 28, 2021: Linda Mooney shares an additional scene from 4-Point Star, a Sensuous Sci-Fi Romance

Wednesday September 29, 2021:  WIP-it Wednesday post. PG Forte shares an excerpt from one of her works in progress.

          

THIS WINTER HEART

Steampunk

104 pages

$1.99

https://www.amazon.com//dp/B005Z1C29G/

Eight years ago, Ophelia Leonides's husband cast her off when he discovered she was not the woman he thought she was. Now destitute after the death of her father, Ophelia is forced to turn to Dario for help raising the child she never told him about.

Dario is furious that Ophelia has returned, and refuses to believe Arthur is his son—after all, he thought his wife was barren. But to avoid gossip, he agrees to let them spend the holidays at his villa. While he cannot resist the desire he still feels for Ophelia, Dario despises himself for being hopelessly in love with a woman who can never love him back.

But Dario is wrong: Ophelia's emotions are all too human, and she was brokenhearted when he rejected her. Unsure if she can trust the man she desperately loves, she fears for her life, her freedom and her son if anyone else learns of her true nature...

December, 1870 

At a border checkpoint just outside Santa Fe, capital of the Republic of New Texacali 

 The battered airship creaked in feeble protest as the mooring lines were winched tighter, tethering it to the landing dock. As the ship was forced lower, the grumbling of the overworked engines sent a faint shudder rippling through the entire structure, too mild for most people to feel. Ophelia Winter, however, was not most people. Her grasp on the brass handrail that circled the passenger lounge tightened imperceptibly as an answering vibration rattled the steel in her bones. She wished she’d had the funds necessary to travel aboard a newer ship, or at least one that had been better maintained, but she’d already stretched her meager finances as far as they would go. If things did not work out as she hoped, she wasn’t sure what her next step should be. She prayed she need never find out. 

Metal scraped wood and the ship lurched slightly as it finally touched down upon the planks, this time with enough force to jostle the passengers gathered in the lounge. A rumble of displeasure circulated through the room but Ophelia paid it no mind. Such discomfort was to be expected when traveling, especially when one’s circumstances were so greatly reduced. 

 While a few of her fellow passengers were travelers from the still-wealthy Louisiana territories, Ophelia knew most of those on board were not. The majority were emigrants from the newly defeated Union. People who’d lost their homes or their livelihood in the chaos that had followed hard on the heels of the Confederate victory and who were now hoping for a fresh start in this burgeoning new country. People who, in that respect at least, were not so different from herself. 

She stared out one of the ship’s round portholes at the surrounding countryside. The pale earth was dusted with snow, but was otherwise rocky and bare except for the few twisted trees that clung to the craggy hills. Unlike many of the others, Ophelia knew this place well. She knew how hard and unyielding, how frustratingly difficult, it could be at times. Quite like many of its inhabitants, in fact. Still, as she also remembered, and all too well, it was surprisingly easy to overlook its flaws in moments such as these, when the light of the setting sun had spread itself like a blanket over the harsh winter landscape, warming it, softening the sharp edges, turning everything a gentle shade of pink. 

All things considered, it appeared this part of New Texacali had changed very little in the years since she was here last. Ophelia wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the lack of progress—either comforted, or desperately and depressingly nostalgic.

 “What sort of trees are those, Mama?” a small voice piped at her side. “I don’t believe I recognize them.” 

Ophelia smiled fondly down at her son. “There’s no earthly reason you should, Arthur, since they’re a kind of tree you’ve never seen before. Those are piñon. They do not grow back East.” 

“Piñon,” Arthur repeated thoughtfully. Just hearing the word spoken aloud, for the first time in years, called up sense memories. Ophelia remembered the soft sigh of the wind rustling in the branches, the bright crackle of fire on a cold winter’s night, the spicy fragrance of resin, so different from the pine trees she knew back home in the mountains of eastern Pennsylvania. 

“Will Papa be here on the dock to meet us?” Arthur asked hopefully, bringing Ophelia’s thoughts back to the present. 

“No, love. Your father is unaware of our arrival, as yet. I decided not to write ahead of time to let him know we’d be coming.” 

Arthur frowned. His expression, when he looked at her so, reminded Ophelia very forcefully of her estranged husband. In general, people noted the strong resemblance to Ophelia when they met her son. Her own father had often proclaimed him to be the very image of her. Other than his eyes, that is. Arthur’s inquisitive brown orbs owed nothing to his maternal parent. Right now, those eyes were trained upon his mother’s face with an appraising gaze that seemed far too old and serious for his seven years. “Why, Mama? Did you think he would not be pleased to meet me?” 

Ophelia forced a smile. “Nothing of the kind. I just thought it might be more...fun if we were to surprise him.” It was not often she chose to tell her only child an outright lie, but in this case, what else could she do? Arthur would be more than a surprise to his father, he’d likely be an absolute shock. And, as Ophelia’s all-too-brief experience of the man had taught her, Dario Leonides did not respond well to shocks. 

 Influential, aristocratic, overly impulsive and completely impossible to reason with while in a temper, Dario could make it very difficult for her to enter the country if he chose, and if he had the chance to do so. Ophelia would very much rather he not get that chance. 

She needed to speak with her husband in person. She needed to appeal to his better nature. She was sure he still had one, even if it had been years since he’d shown it to her. Most of all, she needed to win his cooperation. Even if she could no longer hope to win his love, at least he could give her that.

*****

This Winter Heart was my first ever steampunk release. I fell in love with the Winter family and have been trying for years to bring the rest of their stories to life. So far, I've managed a short story (This Winter Night--set several years before This Winter Heart) a prequel to the entire series (set immediately before This Winter Heart, that I'm calling Winter of Our Discontent) and a sequel novella, Winter World of Love, set one year after the events of This Winter Heart. 

This holiday season, I hope to release This Winter Night and Winter World of Love together in a collection I'm calling Winterlude. For more information, please check out the Winter Hearts page on my website at: https://www.pgforte.com/winter-hearts

Bring It Back(list) This Winter Heart by PG Forte

THIS WINTER HEART

Steampunk

104 pages

$1.99

https://www.amazon.com//dp/B005Z1C29G/

Eight years ago, Ophelia Leonides's husband cast her off when he discovered she was not the woman he thought she was. Now destitute after the death of her father, Ophelia is forced to turn to Dario for help raising the child she never told him about.

Dario is furious that Ophelia has returned, and refuses to believe Arthur is his son—after all, he thought his wife was barren. But to avoid gossip, he agrees to let them spend the holidays at his villa. While he cannot resist the desire he still feels for Ophelia, Dario despises himself for being hopelessly in love with a woman who can never love him back.

But Dario is wrong: Ophelia's emotions are all too human, and she was brokenhearted when he rejected her. Unsure if she can trust the man she desperately loves, she fears for her life, her freedom and her son if anyone else learns of her true nature...

December, 1870 

At a border checkpoint just outside Santa Fe, capital of the Republic of New Texacali 

 The battered airship creaked in feeble protest as the mooring lines were winched tighter, tethering it to the landing dock. As the ship was forced lower, the grumbling of the overworked engines sent a faint shudder rippling through the entire structure, too mild for most people to feel. Ophelia Winter, however, was not most people. Her grasp on the brass handrail that circled the passenger lounge tightened imperceptibly as an answering vibration rattled the steel in her bones. She wished she’d had the funds necessary to travel aboard a newer ship, or at least one that had been better maintained, but she’d already stretched her meager finances as far as they would go. If things did not work out as she hoped, she wasn’t sure what her next step should be. She prayed she need never find out. 

Metal scraped wood and the ship lurched slightly as it finally touched down upon the planks, this time with enough force to jostle the passengers gathered in the lounge. A rumble of displeasure circulated through the room but Ophelia paid it no mind. Such discomfort was to be expected when traveling, especially when one’s circumstances were so greatly reduced. 

 While a few of her fellow passengers were travelers from the still-wealthy Louisiana territories, Ophelia knew most of those on board were not. The majority were emigrants from the newly defeated Union. People who’d lost their homes or their livelihood in the chaos that had followed hard on the heels of the Confederate victory and who were now hoping for a fresh start in this burgeoning new country. People who, in that respect at least, were not so different from herself. 

She stared out one of the ship’s round portholes at the surrounding countryside. The pale earth was dusted with snow, but was otherwise rocky and bare except for the few twisted trees that clung to the craggy hills. Unlike many of the others, Ophelia knew this place well. She knew how hard and unyielding, how frustratingly difficult, it could be at times. Quite like many of its inhabitants, in fact. Still, as she also remembered, and all too well, it was surprisingly easy to overlook its flaws in moments such as these, when the light of the setting sun had spread itself like a blanket over the harsh winter landscape, warming it, softening the sharp edges, turning everything a gentle shade of pink. 

All things considered, it appeared this part of New Texacali had changed very little in the years since she was here last. Ophelia wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the lack of progress—either comforted, or desperately and depressingly nostalgic.

 “What sort of trees are those, Mama?” a small voice piped at her side. “I don’t believe I recognize them.” 

Ophelia smiled fondly down at her son. “There’s no earthly reason you should, Arthur, since they’re a kind of tree you’ve never seen before. Those are piñon. They do not grow back East.” 

“Piñon,” Arthur repeated thoughtfully. Just hearing the word spoken aloud, for the first time in years, called up sense memories. Ophelia remembered the soft sigh of the wind rustling in the branches, the bright crackle of fire on a cold winter’s night, the spicy fragrance of resin, so different from the pine trees she knew back home in the mountains of eastern Pennsylvania. 

“Will Papa be here on the dock to meet us?” Arthur asked hopefully, bringing Ophelia’s thoughts back to the present. 

“No, love. Your father is unaware of our arrival, as yet. I decided not to write ahead of time to let him know we’d be coming.” 

Arthur frowned. His expression, when he looked at her so, reminded Ophelia very forcefully of her estranged husband. In general, people noted the strong resemblance to Ophelia when they met her son. Her own father had often proclaimed him to be the very image of her. Other than his eyes, that is. Arthur’s inquisitive brown orbs owed nothing to his maternal parent. Right now, those eyes were trained upon his mother’s face with an appraising gaze that seemed far too old and serious for his seven years. “Why, Mama? Did you think he would not be pleased to meet me?” 

Ophelia forced a smile. “Nothing of the kind. I just thought it might be more...fun if we were to surprise him.” It was not often she chose to tell her only child an outright lie, but in this case, what else could she do? Arthur would be more than a surprise to his father, he’d likely be an absolute shock. And, as Ophelia’s all-too-brief experience of the man had taught her, Dario Leonides did not respond well to shocks. 

 Influential, aristocratic, overly impulsive and completely impossible to reason with while in a temper, Dario could make it very difficult for her to enter the country if he chose, and if he had the chance to do so. Ophelia would very much rather he not get that chance. 

She needed to speak with her husband in person. She needed to appeal to his better nature. She was sure he still had one, even if it had been years since he’d shown it to her. Most of all, she needed to win his cooperation. Even if she could no longer hope to win his love, at least he could give her that.

*****

This Winter Heart was my first ever steampunk release. I fell in love with the Winter family and have been trying for years to bring the rest of their stories to life. So far, I've managed a short story (This Winter Night--set several years before This Winter Heart) a prequel to the entire series (set immediately before This Winter Heart, that I'm calling Winter of Our Discontent) and a sequel novella, Winter World of Love, set one year after the events of This Winter Heart. 

This holiday season, I hope to release This Winter Night and Winter World of Love together in a collection I'm calling Winterlude. For more information, please check out the Winter Hearts page on my website at: https://www.pgforte.com/winter-hearts

WIP-It Wednesday

 PG Forte: I'm working on a new Christmas story (as part of an anthology that will release on December 7--so I need to finish it quick!) that I'm super excited about, even though calling it a romance is kind of a stretch. It's an idea I've had for a really long time, a play on the "It's a Wonderful Life" trope. Here's the (unedited--obviously) opening scene:  

It’s your typical late December day in the City of Angels where, despite the music blasting from the car’s speakers, it is not beginning to look a lot like Christmas. As the musical marathon continues, one classic carol segueing seamlessly into the next, I feel a holiday headache coming on. “Isn’t there any other music we could listen to?” 

 Larry Mitchell, my agent and friend, shifts his attention away from the traffic clogging the 405 long enough to grin at me from beneath the brim of his seizure-inducing, red and green sequined ball cap, the one with the blinking LED lights that spell out HO-HO-HO! across the front. “C’mon, Scout. Where’s your holiday spirit?” 

 “What holiday spirit,” I’d like to know. “When have you ever known me to get all holly-jolly just because the calendar’s down to a single page?”

 Larry sighs in reluctant agreement. “Never.” 

“Exactly.” It’s not that I’m anti-Christmas, but…well, no, actually. I guess I am. And, unlike the grinch, I do know the reason. Everyone’s expectations are too high. I was just a kid when I realized that “merry” was not a guarantee. It’s a wish, a prayer and, far too often, a forlorn hope. The last few years have been wonderful, but I know how fast that can change. Christmas is the time I feel that most intensely. 

 “I guess I hoped things would be different now,” Larry says. “I thought moving to Oberon and finding your happily ever after would’ve made you…happy?” 

“I’m happy!” Of course, I am. I’m living the dream. But there’s a reason Christmas Future was the spirit Scrooge feared most. Happy ever after is a long shot at the best of times. “Just because I don’t dress up in silly outfits or…” Shit. Too late I notice the self-conscious look on Larry’s face. Does he think I’m talking about him? 

“Is that the time?” I ask, in a desperate bid to change the subject. “Your clock didn’t stop, did it?” 

 “I don’t think so.” Larry casts a worried glance at the display screen, then his face clears, and he grins at me. “That would be funny, wouldn’t it?” 

“No.” I glance uneasily at the traffic crawling far too slowly toward the airport. It’s two days before Christmas. If I don’t make my flight, there’s no guarantee I can get another. I promised my son that I’d be home in time to trim the tree. I can’t let him down. “Unless you think missing my flight is fun?” It’s a pretty popular trope in those holiday romcoms he’s so addicted to, so maybe he does? 

But Larry is shaking his head. “No, Scout. It’s funny because it would be like George’s watch, you know?” 

 “No. Who’s George?” 

“George Bailey?” 

“Ah, right.” Larry’s obsession with It’s a Wonderful Life is the stuff of legends. The movie forms the centerpiece of his annual Christmas party—like the one he hosted just last night, and insisted I attend. “You do realize that the most likely reason his watch stopped was because it got wet when he jumped into the river to save Clarence, right?” 

 “Oh, pffft. That’s just what George wanted to think. It started working just fine once Clarence returned him to his own life.” 

“Because it had dried out by then.” 

 “What about Zuzu’s petals?” 

 “What about ’em? It’s a movie, Larry. The petals were a plot device—that’s all. 

“It’s a film,” he insists. “A great film. And film is one of the lenses through which we view reality. Every detail is fraught with meaning.” 

 I’ve heard this before and I’m not convinced. “The story is ludicrous.” Now, there’s a movie quote, if you like, from a really great film. “Every person in the alternate Bedford Falls was living a sad, miserable existence just because George wasn’t there to prop them up? Who has that kind of power?”

 “No man is an island, Scout. Every choice we make affects those around us.” 

“Uh-huh. And you don’t find it strange that no one in the entire town could’ve chosen to be happy?”

 “Old Man Potter was happy.” 

“Yeah, and that’s another thing. That ending is seriously fucked up. Potter steals the deposit and gets away with it because everyone else sacrifices their life savings to make up the difference. They’re covering up a crime!” 

“You’re totally missing the point of the story.” 

 “What’s the point; crime pays? I know what my husband—the cop—would have to say about that.” 

 “And what do you say about it, Princess?” 

 “The only thing any sensible person can say at this time of year: Bah humbug.”

Experience the magic of romance this Christmas.

Holiday Kisses is a festive collection of ten exclusive Christmas stories that will make you fall head over heels in love. Are you ready to take a journey with us? Get into the Christmas spirit with these swoon-worthy romances this holiday season.

Stories by: Adina D. Grey, Ann Grech, Maci Dillon, Rosie East, Samantha Baca , CJ McKnight, PG Forte, Andrea Marie, ️Holly J. Gill, and ️Lynn Stevens

Pre-order now: https://www.amazon.com/Holiday-Kisses-Sweet-Christmassy-Anthology-ebook/dp/B09BD4V8V7

Free! Additional Scene From 4-POINT STAR, a Sensuous Sci-Fi Romance by Linda Mooney

This month, I'm offering up a free additional scene from 4-POINT STAR, a Sensuous Sci-Fi Romance!

With their initial two-year mission coming to a close, everyone agrees to sign on again for another stint once their mandatory vacation/down time is over, thus keeping their Gaspiel intact.

All except for Sienna, their Visl. She’s been very quiet these past few days. And when she finally reveals to them the reason why she cannot take on another mission with them, they don’t know whether to be devastated…or elated.

 

HERE BE NEWS for September 27, 2021

 

                            

Monday August 30, 2021 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:

Tuesday September 21, 2021: Deborah A  Bailey discusses Including Easter Eggs in Your Stories.

Thursday September 24, 2021: PG Forte writes about starting over in Begin Again.

                        

ROOG

Sensuous Sci-Fi/Time Travel Romance

by Linda Mooney

Word Count: 47.6K

$3.99 e

Scientist Leigh Readon and her colleagues have done the unimaginable. They’ve invented a machine that can transport matter to other platforms of the same machine. When the US government gets wind, they want it shut down immediately, or so they say. In an effort to save the technology from falling into the wrong hands, the group deletes all of the schematics and research information, and Leigh takes the risk of transporting herself to France where one of their landing pads is located. When she gets there, she plans to give the French scientists a heads up.

Only she doesn’t land in the France she expected. She finds herself among…cavemen? Is that even possible? Accepting her fate, Leigh tries to navigate the primitive world of the Stone Age, and soon finds herself in the arms of her hero, Roog, who protects her from the elements and the not so friendly inhabitants, and teaches her the way of his people.

The other scientists are still trying to figure out where she is, or worse, when she is. With the government breathing down their necks and trying to shut them down, can they find her before it’s too late?

If given the chance, would Leigh go back to her time, or make a life for herself with Roog?

Warning! Contains Mr. Muscles and Mr. Roboto, fire making skills, learning a new language, a claiming ritual, an ambush, flash drives and solar lights, and one woman given the choice between the life that she knew and life in a barbaric time with a man who'd give his life for her.

Excerpt and Buy Links

REVENGE IS SWEET:   

A  Collection of Halloween Tales

Only .99 through September.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...for revenge. 

Halloween is a time for tricks, mayhem and murder. This collection of Halloween tales follows the wronged as they seek retribution for the crimes against them. 

By whatever means necessary. 

Read the deliciously dark stories from S. K. Gregory, Ashley Brion, R Jaye, N. D. Testa, DJ Shaw and P. G. Forte.

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09H3643ZH

Bring It Back(list): A Sight To Dream Of by PG Forte

A  Sight to Dream Of is the second book in my Oberon series--which is not currently available.  The story takes place over the Fall Equinox, which was just this past week, and that put me in mind of the following scene.

BLURB: Sam Sterling is a man with problems.  Including a partner who is trying to kill him, and a nosy reporter, who's just turned up dead! It's going to take a miracle to save him.  Or, better yet, an angel. ​  

Marsha Quinn is used to being called a witch.  After all, her abilities as a psychic make a lot of people uncomfortable.  But no one has ever called her an angel before!  

 Falling in love was not a possibility she'd ever envisioned, until Sam the skeptic arrives in Oberon, and teaches her to see past the scars she carries, and the lies he's told her, to the love that lies within their hearts and minds.

EXCERPT:

When she reached the glade, Marsha put down her bag, and glanced around her. The grass felt cool and slick against the soles of her feet, and the energy in the little glade seemed to reach out and embrace her. She could almost hear the music Sam had been listening to earlier—as thought it were still echoing in her head. It was so perfect for the evening, she thought, remembering that in certain Celtic traditions this month was called The Singing Moon. She nearly laughed aloud when she recalled one of the other names she had heard for it—this one from a Native American tradition. The Ducks Fly Moon. Sam would get a kick out of that. She’d have to remember to tell him. 

Crouching in the grass, she began to remove the tools from her bag: Her drum and a large crystal cluster, which she placed in the North. Her feathered wand and the smudge stick of sage, cedar and sweetgrass in the East. Her pipe and tobacco, and a small lantern in the South. A silver bowl, partially filled with water from the creek, and her conch shell horn in the West. And in the center of the circle, on a flat piece of granite Celeste had long ago embedded in the grass, a small, iron cauldron. Finally she was ready to begin. 

 She put the bag down, outside the boundaries of the circle she was about to cast and--ignoring the hairs rising at the back of her neck, resisting the urge to glance over at the cabin--she removed her robe, and dropped it on top of the bag. Skyclad, she re-entered the circle, maybe a little more aware than usual of her nakedness, but determined to put every other thought out of her mind, except for the work at hand. Picking up the matches and the smudge stick, she set to work purifying herself, and the space around her.

 * * * 

 Sam reclined in the window seat, as the shadows deepened in the little grove. Marsha moved about in the glade with the same unselfconscious dignity he had noticed on Sunday, as though she had merged, in some fashion, with the place itself. He reached for the wine bottle and poured himself another glass, scarcely taking his eyes from the window for an instant. The sight before him was far too compelling. He was familiar with the popular wisdom that eavesdroppers seldom learn anything to their advantage, apparently the same held true for voyeurs. 

He had been curious about the ceremony she was performing. But satisfying his curiosity carried a steeper price than he’d guessed. He knew the sight of her, bathed in moonlight, would be with him for a long, long time, and would bring him little peace.

Although the series itself isn't available, you might enjoy the Oberon short stories that are included in the following anthologies:

It's the most wonderful time of the year...for revenge. 

Halloween is a time for tricks, mayhem and murder. This collection of Halloween tales follows the wronged as they seek retribution for the crimes against them. 

By whatever means necessary. 

Read the deliciously dark stories from  S. K. Gregory, Ashley Brion, R Jaye, N. D. Testa, DJ Shaw and P. G. Forte.

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09H3643ZH

Experience the magic of romance this Christmas. 

Holiday Kisses is a festive collection of ten exclusive Christmas stories that will make you fall head over heels in love. Are you ready to take a journey with us? Get into the Christmas spirit with these swoon-worthy romances this holiday season.  ️

Stories by Adina D. Grey, Ann Grech, Maci Dillon, Rosie East, Samantha Baca , CJ McKnight, PG Forte, Andrea Marie, ️Holly J. Gill, and ️Lynn Stevens

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/Holiday-Kisses-Sweet-Christmassy-Anthology-ebook/dp/B09BD4V8V7

Begin Again

 It's hard to believe that September is almost over. It feels like just a few days ago that I was waking up and whispering, "Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit..." or am I the only one who's recently discovered/become obsessed with this (apparently very old) superstition? 

But, here we are, at the end of the month that, for many of us, still signals new beginnings--a holdover from our school days, I suppose. Or numerology, I guess, since 9 is the number of completion, and you can't begin again without ending something else. 

I've spent most of the month writing--definitely a new beginning there, since I'm still coming off a years' long writing drought. The two stories I've spent the most time on this month will each be released as part of a multi-author anthology (also relatively new for me), both are related to my Oberon series (which needs a new beginning--just sayin') and neither of them are (strictly speaking) romances. This is something else I've noticed happening to many of my fellow romance writers. We're stepping away from what we know, or what we've always done to try something new. 

One of these stories releases on Saturday--woo-hoo! Hungry Heart is a (hopefully) creepy little tale that I pulled out of Oberon's seventh book Visions Before Midnight. It's currently part of the Revenge is Sweet Collection of Halloween Tales, which has a suitably creepy cover. 

It's the most wonderful time of the year...for revenge. 

Halloween is a time for tricks, mayhem and murder. This collection of Halloween tales follows the wronged as they seek retribution for the crimes against them. 

By whatever means necessary. 

Read the deliciously dark stories from S. K. Gregory, Ashley Brion, R Jaye, N. D. Testa, DJ Shaw and P. G. Forte.

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09H3643ZH

The other story I've been working on is for the Holiday Kisses, Sweet, Hot and Christmassy Anthology. The cover is gorgeous, and very romantic, and my story...is not. It's a riff on It's a Wonderful Life, so it wouldn't be. Amazingly, it took me quite a while to realize that. I think it's because I'm so used to thinking of Scout and Nick's story as a romance--which it is. And it didn't occur to me that this particular tale is not, in itself, a romance. It's quite cute, however, and I'm enjoying the writing of it very much. I just hope readers will feel the same. 

Experience the magic of romance this Christmas. 

Holiday Kisses is a festive collection of ten exclusive Christmas stories that will make you fall head over heels in love. Are you ready to take a journey with us? Get into the Christmas spirit with these swoon-worthy romances this holiday season.  ️

Stories by Adina D. Grey, Ann Grech, Maci Dillon, Rosie East, Samantha Baca , CJ McKnight, PG Forte, Andrea Marie, ️Holly J. Gill, and ️Lynn Stevens

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/Holiday-Kisses-Sweet-Christmassy-Anthology-ebook/dp/B09BD4V8V7