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New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter returns with another captivating Angels of the Dark tale, as a tormented warrior is brought to his knees by the most delicate of humans….

His name is Koldo. He is scarred, powerful, his control legendary—and he lives only for vengeance against the angel who viciously removed his wings. But if he yields to the forces of hatred, he will be eternally damned.

Nicola Lane was born with a defective heart, yet this fragile human shows surprising strength as demons stalk her every move, determined to end her. She is the key to Koldo's deliverance…and his downfall. Though he fights duty, destiny and his first addictive taste of desire, his toughest battle will be the one for Nicola's life—even if he has to sacrifice his own….

• Sales Rank: #296271 in Books
• Brand: Showalter, Gena
• Published on: 2013-02-26
• Released on: 2013-02-26
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.66" h x 1.18" w x 4.13" l, .45 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 448 pages

Features

• . His name is Koldo. He is scarred, powerful, his control legendary

Review
"One of the premier authors of paranormal romance." -#1 New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole

"The Darkest Surrender is another sure-to-please hit...Gena Showalter knows how to keep readers glued to the pages and smiling the whole time."--New York Times bestselling author Lara Adrian

"Showalter delivers yet again!"-RT BookReviews on Wicked Nights

"The versatile Showalter...once again shows that she can blend humor and poignancy while keeping readers entertained from start to finish."-Booklist on Catch a Mate

About the Author

Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over fifty books, including the acclaimed Lords of the Underworld and Angels of the Dark series, and the White Rabbit Chronicles. She writes sizzling paranormal romance, heartwarming contemporary romance, and unputdownable young adult novels, and lives in Oklahoma City with her family and menagerie of dogs. Visit her at GenaShowalter.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


Koldo stalked down the ICU ward of the hospital. He and the warrior with him were hidden from human eyes and protected from human touch. The doctors, nurses, visitors and patients misted through them, completely unaware of the invisible world playing out alongside theirs. A spirit world that had given birth to this natural world, the human world.

A spirit world that was the true reality for all creation.

One day, these humans would discover just how exact that statement really was. Their bodies would die, their spirits would rise—or descend—and they would begin to understand the natural world was fleeting, the spiritual eternal.

Eternal. Just like Koldo's irritation seemed to be. He didn't want to be here among the humans, on yet another silly mission, and he really didn't like his companion, Axel. But his new leader, Zacharel, wanted him busy, distracted, for he suspected Koldo teetered on the verge of breaking a heavenly law.

Zacharel wasn't wrong.

After everything Koldo had endured in his father's camp…after escaping and spending centuries searching for his mother, Koldo had finally found her—and locked her inside a cage in one of his many homes.

So, yes. Koldo teetered. But he wouldn't ever cause the woman irrevocable harm. He wouldn't even lower himself to break one of her nails. For now, he simply hoped to teach her the horror of being trapped by circumstance, as she had taught him. As she was still teaching him.

Later, he would… He wasn't sure. He no longer liked to consider the future.

Because of his abhorrence of Cornelia, Koldo had landed in the Army of Disgrace. It was a terrible name for such a choice defensive force, but it was one that fit nonetheless. The members were the worst of the worst, the baddest of the bad…male and female Sent Ones who were in danger of damnation.

For various reasons, all twenty soldiers had ignored prized heavenly laws. They were meant to love, but they hated. They were to help others, but they really only hurt. They were to build up, but they only ever tore down.

Three months ago, the members had been given one year to mend their wicked ways, or they would be stripped of their abilities and kicked into hell.

Koldo would do whatever was necessary to keep that from happening—even deny himself true vengeance. He refused to lose the only home he'd ever known.

Axel grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. "Dude! Did you see the meat bags on that girl?"

And there was reason number one why Koldo had a problem working with Axel. "Could you be any more disgusting?" He jerked from the warrior's hold, contact with another not something he enjoyed.

"Yeah," Axel said with an irreverent grin. "I could. But someone, and I won't say your name, K, my man, needs to get his mind out of the gutter. I wasn't talking about her chesticles."

Koldo ran his tongue over his teeth. "What, then?"

"Hello. Her demons. Look."

His gaze slid to the room at his right. The door had been in the process of closing and now clicked shut, blocking the occupant from view. "Too late."

"It's only too late when you're dead. Come on. You gotta see this." Axel strode forward and ghosted through the entrance.

Koldo's hands curled into fists, and he battled the urge to punch a wall. They had a mission, and distractions only extended their time in a place crawling with demons laughing at the pain the humans suffered and whispering into the ears of anyone who would listen.

Can't survive, they said. There's no hope. And these humans…so many were puppets, with clawed hands tugging at their strings. If they failed to fight back, they would become casualties in a war between good and evil, either in this life or after death. One way or another.

That's just the way things worked.

The Most High ruled the heavens. "He" was actually a sacred trinity consisting of the Merciful One, the Anointed One and the Mighty One, and He was the King of kings, His word law. He had appointed several underlings throughout the skies. Germanus—or Deity, as some of Koldo's kind called him, referring to a title, nothing more—was one of those underlings. A king answerable to the King.

Germanus led the Elite Seven—Zacharel, Lysander, Andrian, Gabek, Shalilah, Luanne, Svana—and each of those seven led an army of Sent Ones. Zacharel, for instance, led the Army of Disgrace.

Sent Ones looked just like angels, but they weren't actually angels. Not in the sense the world knew, at least. Yes, Sent Ones were winged. Yes, they waged war against evil and helped humans, but in actuality, they were the adopted children of the Most High, their lives tethered to His. He was the source of their power, the essence of their very existence.

Like humans, Sent Ones battled the desires of the flesh. They experienced lust, greed, envy, rage, pride, hate, despair. Angels, in actuality, were servants and messengers of the Most High. They experienced none of those things.

Mind on the mission.

Koldo straightened his spine. Zacharel had tasked him and Axel with killing a specific demon here at the hospital. The demon had made the mistake of tormenting a patient who knew about the spiritual world around him, a male who had called upon the aid of the Most High.

The Most High was love personified, willing to help anyone who asked. Sometimes angels were dispatched, sometimes Sent Ones. Sometimes both, depending on the situation and the skills needed. This time, Koldo and Axel had been chosen. They had been nearby, headed to a training session, when Zacharel's voice had whispered through their minds, imparting instructions.

Axel peeked his head through the center of the door and said, "Dude! You're missing it!"

"The person in that room is not our—"

Grinning, the warrior once again disappeared.

"Assignment," Koldo finished to no one but himself. His anger intensified.

Control yourself.

He could move on and fight the demon he was supposed to fight, no problem, but according to Zacharel's orders, he wasn't to proceed without his partner.

Grinding his teeth, he marched forward. He slipped through the iron obstruction without any difficulty, stopped and glanced around. The room was small, with multiple machines attached to the motionless blonde female on the bed. A redheaded female sat next to her, chatting easily.

The redhead had no idea there were two demons standing behind her, pretending not to see the Sent Ones in the room.

"Two of the guys in my office got to arguing about who could run faster," she said, "and soon bets were flying."

Her voice had a whispery quality, as if filled with smoke and dreams, and it settled over Koldo like warm honey. And yet, with the soothing came a tensing. Every muscle in his body knotted up, as if preparing for war. He…wanted to fight such a delicate human? But why? Who was she?

"I felt as if I was standing in the middle of a stock exchange or something."

Laughter bubbled from her, such beautiful laughter, pure, with nothing held back. The kind he'd never experienced himself.

"They decided to race in the parking lot instead of have lunch, and the loser had to eat whatever's in the plastic bowl in the break room fridge. The one that's been in there for over a month and is now black. I heard the cheers as I was pulling out of the lot, but I didn't get to see who won."

Wistful now. Why?

"You would have voted for Blaine, I'm sure. He's only five-nine, so he wouldn't tower over you too badly, and he has the cutest blue eyes. Not that his looks have anything to do with his speed, but I know you, and I know you would have wanted him to win regardless. You've always been a sucker for baby blues."

He could only see the top half of her, but judging by the fragility of her bone structure, she was a tiny thing. Her features were plain, her skin as pale as porcelain, and her eyes as gray as a winter storm. Her mass of strawberry hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the ends curling all the way to her elbow.

There was an air of fatigue surrounding her, and yet, there was a sparkle in those winter eyes.

A sparkle the demons behind her would soon snuff out.

He forced his attention on the pair. One was posted at her left and one was posted at her right, and both had a proprietary hand on her shoulder. They were Koldo's size, with dark, pupilless eyes that reminded him of bottomless pits. Lefty had a single horn protruding from the center of his forehead, and crimson scales rather than flesh. Righty had two thick horns rising from his scalp, and dark, matted fur.

There were many different types of demons, and they came in all different shapes and sizes. From the first of their kind, the fallen archangel Lucifer, to the viha, the paura, the nasili, the slecht, the grzech, the pica and the envexa. And sadly, many more. Each sought the destruction of mankind—one man at a time, if necessary.

Amid the types of demons, there were ranks. Righty was a top-of-the-line paura, and all about fear. Lefty was a top-of-the-line grzech, and all about sickness.

Demons liked to attach themselves to humans and, through whispers and deceit, infect them with a toxin that caused their anxiety levels to spike, in the case of the paura, and the immune system to weaken, in the case of the grzech. Then, the demons fed off the ensuing panic and upset, weakening the humans further and making them easy targets for destruction.

The girl must have been a veritable buffet.

Just how sick was she?

Lefty gave up trying to ignore Axel and glared at him as he danced around, slapping his face and saying, "I'm hittin' you, I'm hittin' you, what're you gonna do about it, huh, huh?" in the good-ole-country-boy accent he sometimes liked to use.

Koldo despised demons with every ounce of his being. No matter their type or rank, they were thieves, killers and slayers, just like his father's people. They left chaos and confusion in their wake. They ruined. And this pair wouldn't leave the girl unless forced—but even then she could welcome others.

His chest burned as he switched his focus to the girl on the bed. But…his gaze lasered through the wrinkled cover, the thin hospital gown, and even skin and muscle. What he saw astonished him.

To him, the blonde was now as transparent as glass, granting him a glance at the demon that had wormed its way inside her body. A grzech, different from the one plaguing the redhead. This one had tentacles that stretched through the blonde's mind and into her heart, draining the life from her.

The Most High often blessed Sent Ones with specific supernatural abilities during difficult situations, things like this X-ray vision, as he'd heard others call it. Until now, Koldo had never experienced anything like it. Why here? Why now? Why this girl and not the other?

The questions were overshadowed a second later, when, in the blink of an eye, Koldo learned exactly how this had happened to her, the information seeming to download straight into his brain.

Born at twenty-six weeks, the blonde and her redheaded twin had struggled to survive the heart defects they'd been born with. Multiple surgeries were needed, and both almost died countless times—each time nullifying any progress made. Throughout the years, their parents had become fond of saying, "You have to keep yourself calm or you'll have another heart attack."

Innocent words meant to aid the pair—or so it seemed.

Words were one of the most powerful forces known—or unknown—to man. The Most High had created this world with His words. And humans, who had been fashioned in His image, could direct the entire course of their lives with their words, their mouths as the rudder on a ship, as the bridle on a horse. They produced with their words. They destroyed with their words.

Eventually the blonde had come to believe the slightest rise in her emotions would indeed cause another painful heart attack, and with her belief, fear had sparked to life.

Fear—the beginning of doom, for heavenly law stated that what a person feared would come upon them. In the blonde's case, the fear had come upon her in the form of the grzech. She'd caught his notice, and she'd been such an easy target.

First, the demon breathed his toxin into her ear, whispering destructive suggestions.

Your heart could stop at any moment.

Oh, the pain…it's unbearable. You can't live through that again.

This time, the doctors may not be able to revive you.

Demons knew human eyes and ears were a doorway to the mind, and the mind was a doorway to the spirit. So, when the blonde had entertained the terrible suggestions, constantly rolling them through her mind, the fear had multiplied and become a poisoned truth, causing her defenses to crumble, allowing the demon to slink inside her, create a stronghold and destroy her from the inside out.

She had indeed had another heart attack, and the necessary organ had weakened beyond what human medicine could repair.

Did the Most High want Koldo to help her, even though she wasn't his current mission? Was that what this unveiling was about?

Sighing, the redhead leaned back in her chair, returning Koldo's attention to her. Once again, he saw flesh and blood rather than spirit. The Most High's gift hadn't extended to her.

He didn't have time to wonder why. A waft of cinnamon and vanilla hit him, quickly followed by the sickening scent of sulfur. A scent the girl would not be able to shed, as long as the demons stayed with her.

"It's about time for me to go," she said, rubbing at the back of her neck as if the muscles were knotted. "I'll let you know who won that race, La La."

Did she have any idea that evil weighed her down and stalked her every move?

Did she know she was full of demon toxin, just like her sister? That, if she didn't fight, she would end up in the same circumstance, the demons worming their way inside her body?

Koldo could kill Lefty and Righty, but again, other demons would sense what easy prey she was and attack her. As unknowledgeable as she clearly was, she would surrender again.

For any kind of long-term success, he would have to teach her to wage war against the toxin. But to do so, he would need her cooperation and time. Cooperation she may not give. Time she may not have. But…maybe she was the one the Most High wanted him to help. Maybe Koldo was to save the redhead from the blonde's fate.

Either way, the choice to aid her—or not—was Koldo's. Germanus and Zacharel might issue orders, but not the Most High. Not even when He revealed a truth. He never overrode free will.

"You want in on this, buddy?" Axel asked him, continuing to slap at the now-snarling demons behind the redhead. "'Cause I'm about to take things up a notch."

"A notch above annoying is merely irritating," he said, inwardly fuming because he already knew he was going to pick the mission. Survival always came first.

Why was he fuming, anyway? He liked the sound of the girl's voice—so what? Who was she to him? No one. Why should he care about her and her future?

"We have a duty," he added. "Let's see to it."

Immediately guilt attempted to rise. No matter who she was—or wasn't—he was cold and callous to leave her to such an evil end, wasn't he? His father would have made the same choice. His mother would have— He wasn't sure what she would have done. She still seemed to love everyone but Koldo.

"Ah, come on, hoss," Axel said. "Stop and play, that's my motto."

"You come on," he called to Axel. "Now!" Before he changed his mind.

"Sure, sure." Axel worked his way behind the demons and kicked one in the back of the knees. The other twisted swiftly to bat the side of Axel's head with a meaty fist, sending the warrior propelling through the far wall.

Koldo stepped in front of his brethren when he returned to the room, preventing him from springing into a full-on attack. "Touch him again and you'll discover my talent with the sword of fire," he told the demons.

Loyalty mattered to Koldo. Deserved or not.

Most helpful customer reviews

97 of 103 people found the following review helpful.
What happened to the sexy times?
By Jen (Red Hot Books)
This book was almost great. It pains me to say that, because the parts of it that were good were very, very good. But the two issues I had with it really took away from my overall enjoyment.

This second installment in Gena Showalter's Angels of the Dark series features Koldo, and though I wasn't that excited to learn he was getting his own book, he ended up a really good tortured hero. He was raised by a mother who hated him and cut off his wings. Then he was abandoned to be tortured and kept by his evil father, until he was eventually freed to fight on the side of the angels. He has never known love or tender emotions from anyone. But that changes when Nicola enters his life.

Nicola and her twin sister were both born with heart problems and both face an uncertain future. But when Koldo comes across them in the course of another mission, he can't ignore how he is drawn to Nicola. He makes it his task to free her from the demons who foster her illness and to teach her how to fight their influence. And in the process, they fall in love.

I think what I liked best about the story is how effortless the romance is between Nicola and Koldo. I can see how and why they fall for each other. There is no great misunderstanding or hurtful mistake one has to forgive the other for. Koldo just wants to be loved and Nicola is the balm to his tattered soul. It hit my romance happy buttons all over.

Unfortunately, the book failed big time in the sexual arena. Usually Showalter's books really deliver with the sexy times. Here, I reread their first sexual encounter three times and I'm still not sure what the hell happened. It was that vague. Then, when they finally do seal the deal (a measly one time) again, the language is vague and totally unsatisfying. Who is this author and what has she done with Gena Showalter's sex scenes? This was a total missed opportunity, since Koldo is a sexy virgin hero who is just exploring his sexuality for the first time.

My second big issue? It's a little too... religious isn't the right word. But it felt dangerously close to having a "message." The angels have been a part of the Lords of the Underworld series for some time now, but not until this book did it have more of a traditional ring for me. Essentially in the sense that it is faith in the Most High that can make or break you in this book. It felt like PNR with a little bit of an inspirational bent.

The romance was really good though, as was the construction of the characters. I felt like I knew them and I was 100% invested in them. So much so, I might have given it 5 stars, had it not been for the disappointing sex and the feeling that I was supposed to find God when it was all said and done.

100 of 109 people found the following review helpful.
Officially done
By Morgan
Well upon picking up this installment trying to give the author another chance to win me back over after the Last Kiss issues its official: I will no longer be auto buying this author if at all. While again I'm incredibly happy for her in her newly religious life and do wish her all the best and happiness I do not like that aspect in my romances I could live without the previously incredible sexual scenes and tensions but the 'message' of the books have become too much and a little over the top for me. For me this book contained many of the flaws I had with the previous release. I will cherish her older works but it will take some pretty big leaps for me to buy her future works. However if you enjoyed the previous release this one contains much the same writing style and similar themes. If you enjoyed earlier works by her be warned she has definitely changed not only her style but also her core themes as well. Very disappointed because now I definitely will not finish the Lords series...

49 of 57 people found the following review helpful.
What happened to my Gena? She needs to turn to another form of fiction.
By Romance Reader
OMG! No literally OMG-as in there is way too much God for a paranormal romance novel. This is my first ever review on Amazon after the dozens and dozens of books I've read. I had to do it. Gena is one of my favorite authors. I wait-totally impatiently-for months for her LOU books to come out. I looked forward to the dark angels books and I even liked the first one for the most part but this one really, really disappointed. I felt like I was reading one of those Amish Romance Novels by Beverley Lewis. Don't get me wrong, I've read a number of those and really enjoyed them for what they are but I didn't expect to find the same themes in a Gena Showalter novel. Every other page it seemed like was some kind of reference to God and religion. I felt like I was back in Catechism learning about the Divine Trinity. This is a romance novel in cover only. As others have said there are hardly any love scenes and the one or two there are have no details and are really confusing. I don't know about other readers but I read Gena and Kresley and JR Ward because they are wonderful writers and they help me to escape the stresses and challenges of day-to-day life. I don't seek them out for lessons on faith. There are other venues for that and I'm afraid that Ms. Showalter may need to turn her focus to those other venues as her most recent release just isn't the same as her other true romance novels. I am so totally destroyed over Torin BTW. I'm afraid his story will not get the wonderful treatment all of the other lords received. I'm not sure I'm buying any more. So sad!!

See all 367 customer reviews...

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Chloe Turner thought she was going to marry the perfect man—until her fiancé's plane crashed. And then she got the really bad news: he'd tried to fake his own death to avoid marrying her. Now America's most famous bridezilla (a tag she most definitely does not deserve), Chloe escapes to a remote island to avoid the paparazzi. And right next door is a man who just might be the cure for Chloe's heartache….

A magnet for wild, complicated women, Max Sullivan is relieved to have finally found someone "normal." Chloe is his girl-next-door fantasy come to life, and best of all, she gets him. With her, he can be himself, a treasure-hunting millionaire who desperately wants out of his sexy but reckless job. But when Chloe's notoriety catches up with them, will their torrid romance make it to the mainland?

• Sales Rank: #1235352 in Books
• Brand: HQN Books
• Published on: 2010-06-22
• Released on: 2010-06-22
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x 1.03" w x 4.21" l, .1 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

Features

• Great product!

About the Author

Victoria Dahl lives with her family in a small town high in the mountains. Her first novel debuted in 2007, and she’s gone on to write seventeen books and novellas in historical, contemporary, and paranormal romance. Victoria's contemporary romance, Talk Me Down, was nominated for both a RWA Rita Award and the National Readers' Choice Award. Since then, her books have been nominated for two more Rita Awards, and she hit the USA Today Bestseller list with the anthology Midnight Kiss.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.


Chloe Turner stared down into the black, roiling water, squinting her eyes against the cool spray. The wind ate into her skin. When the boat dipped into a trough, the water rose up, reaching for her, trying to pull her under. She drew her head back as if she could avoid the swipe of the watery paw. Before she could recover from the fear of that close call, the boat tipped up, climbing toward the crest of another wave. The storm had come out of nowhere. She suspected they were in big trouble.

A slender hand settled on her shoulder, offering faint comfort.

"I think we might die out here," Chloe murmured.

The hand smacked her arm. Hard. "Oh, for God's sake, Chloe. It's a frickin' ferryboat. Get over yourself."

Chloe tossed a glare at her best friend, Jenn. "We're in the middle of the ocean. In a storm."

"First of all, we're barely out of the bay. Second, there's a nine-year-old kid a few feet away who's having the time of his life."

The boat rose on another storm-tossed wave, and Chloe's stomach dropped. When the boy hooted with excitement, she glared in his direction. "Idiot," she muttered.

Jenn smacked her again. "If a reporter heard you say that, you'd be screwed."

"They can't find me on a boat. Isn't that the reason we're sailing straight into the perfect storm?"

"Be nice or I'll call and alert them to your whereabouts."

Chloe shrugged and pushed a strand of wet brown hair out of her eyes. "I'll be tipped off when you put on makeup and turn on the cleavage show."

A smile pulled up the corners of her friend's mouth. "I did look pretty hot last Saturday."

Chloe smiled back. "You did. Especially when you put your hand in front of the camera and yelled, 'She is not an animal!'"

"Oh, God," Jenn groaned, using that very same hand to cover her eyes. "I still can't believe that. It was so chaotic."

"The good news is that a nineteenth-century London freak show called to offer me a stall. I get to keep half the coins the public pelts at me."

Jenn shook her head, the hood of her windbreaker slipping back to expose her gorgeous blond hair. "You'll never get tired of that joke, will you?"

"Never." As Chloe's laughter faded, she glanced over her shoulder, as if she could still see the Virginia coastline behind her. "Do you think they followed us?"

"The photographers?" Jenn's eyes clouded with worry, but Chloe was already feeling silly. No speeding car had followed them from Richmond. No black van had screeched up to the ferry landing to disgorge a pack of paparazzi. Chloe might feel infamous and trapped by the notoriety thrust upon her by her ex-fiancé, but she wasn't hunted day and night. Not quite.

"No one saw us leave, Chloe."

"I know, I know. Sorry, it's just—" The ferry swayed forward and a loud thump vibrated up through her knees. "Oh, God!" she cried out, grabbing for the railing. "This is it. We're going down."

Mouth flat with obvious disgust, Jenn shook her head. "We're at the dock, you coward."

"Are you kidding me?" Chloe looked around, eyes widening at the dark shadow of the dock looming out of the mist. "We made it? Oh, my God, we actually made it!"

"You won't have to fight that kid for a seat on the lifeboat, so I'm pretty relieved, too."

"I totally could've taken him," Chloe murmured under her breath as she followed Jenn to the walkway. Jenn must've heard her, because she twisted around to give Chloe a narrow look.

Chloe had been a nice, happy person just a month before. The kind of girl who'd never joke about fighting a kid for a seat on a lifeboat. Hopefully, somewhere deep inside, she was still nice, but she'd taken so many brutal blows in the past few weeks that she couldn't feel anything but the dull pain of layered bruises.

But not right now. Not this week. Jenn had arranged this trip to get Chloe away from the insanity created by her broken engagement. They'd managed to ditch the paparazzi back on the mainland, and there was no roaring speedboat looming out of the mist to catch them.

Jenn had assured her that the tiny resort on White Rock Island didn't have any TVs, and the whole island was limited to fuzzy reception on old-fashioned antennas. This might be the one place where Chloe wouldn't be recognized.

The deckhands lowered the walkway to the narrow wooden dock. Drawing a deep breath, Chloe watched a spot of sunlight on the dock expand into a wide patch. When she glanced up toward the heavy gray clouds, the sun burst through like an omen of good days ahead. Her luck was changing. She was sure of it. Even the wind shifted toward the east, warming away the chill she'd caught earlier.

"Come on," Jenn called out, waving toward the short line of people filing onto the dock. At the end of May, the weather wasn't consistent enough to draw people to the little island. Today, for example, had brought forth a wicked thunderstorm, but now the clouds were shrinking and breaking up, and summer temperatures returned.

When Chloe set her foot on the dock, which rocked only a little less than the boat, she drew in a deep breath of relief.

Jenn slipped her arm through Chloe's. "Are you ready to relax?"

"Yes."

"The resort will pick up our bags. Let's grab some groceries and head over."

Sand crunched beneath their feet as they walked toward the buildings gathered around the tiny harbor. The resort was less than half a mile away, according to Jenn, and they could walk or ride bikes while they were here, which meant they'd have to be choosy about their groceries.

"You brought the margarita mix?" Chloe asked.

Jenn patted her gigantic purse, and a quiet clunk echoed from its depths. "Safe and sound."

"So we should be good with Lean Cuisines and doughnuts?"

"I don't see why not."

In the end they added a few more essentials to the list: chips and guac, Diet Coke, marshmallows, and some grapes to counter nutritional guilt. Half an hour later, they were on the porch of their seaside cabin, legs propped on the porch railing and iced margaritas in their plastic cups.

"This is going to be a great week," Jenn said brightly. Chloe wasn't so sure, but the longer she sat there, the more likely that seemed. The Richmond courthouse and Chloe's ex-fiancé were a whole world away. Maybe two. And Jenn had been right: their little two-bedroom cottage had a kitchen and a bathroom and a porch facing the waves, but one thing it didn't have was a television.

Better yet, her cell phone showed only one flickering bar, so even if a reporter did manage to get through, Chloe wouldn't be able to hear him over the constant crash of the waves. She was off the grid, and the idea melted her into the ancient gray wood of her deck chair.

Miracle of miracles, she was relaxed. More herself. But it didn't feel like she was becoming herself again, exactly. She was reverting to something more primitive. A feral cat sunning itself on the sand.

Her muscles gave up their tight hold on her bones.

Her joints loosened. Chloe slipped her sunglasses on and gave her body and soul up to the beach.

Max Sullivan gripped the boat's railing in numb hands and told himself that everything was okay. His brother was at the helm of his new boat—he'd turned out to be a quick learner—and the storm was subsiding. Max didn't need to rush over and take control. Elliott was fine. Still, he stared daggers into Elliott's back, willing him to turn around.

Finally, he did. "You want to bring it in? " Elliott called over the wind, tilting his head toward the wheel. "I'm not sure I'm skilled enough for this."

Max sucked air into his starving lungs and released his death grip on the railing. He hated being on the water. More than that, he hated being on the water during a high wind with a man who didn't know the first thing about boating. But that was the point. Max couldn't have let his brother learn the ropes by himself on the open sea. People died like that. So Max just offered his trademark grin and sauntered toward the captain's chair. "Sure," he said. "I'll take her in." "Her," Elliott repeated. "Right. Sea lingo." Elliott had bought the boat to try to prove to himself that he wasn't a workaholic, but now he looked troubled by the idea of learning how to have fun. "It'll be great," Max said as enthusiastically as he could, considering that he was looking out at waves instead of solid ground. One careless move and the ocean would happily suck both brothers into its dark maw. Max was exhausted from constantly guarding against the danger.

Six weeks on dry land had sounded like pure heaven after three months on the southern Mediterranean searching for treasure. Max had the perfect damn life…and he hated it. Not that he was ungracious enough to let anyone else know that.

He glanced back to Elliott, who was starting to gather up their gear. Elliott was supposed to be learning, and Max knew he should call his brother over and guide him through docking, but he told himself it would be better to wait for nicer weather. Then again, if Elliott rocked the boat into a piling with enough force, the boat would need repairs and they could abandon this so-called vacation.

A wave swelled beneath them, throwing Max into the wheel as if in punishment for his fantasy. "All right," he muttered into the wind before waving his brother over. "Come on. I'll guide you through it. You shouldn't take her out in crud like this, but you never know what's going to blow in unexpectedly."

He talked Elliott through the danger of the narrow breakwater and into the marginally calmer waters of the tiny harbor. Five minutes later, his jaw and hands ached from tension, but the boat was safely tied in at one of the slips.

"Good work," he said to Elliott, instead of blurting out what he really wanted to say. Why couldn't you take up golf like all the other high-level guys at the CDC?

Elliott jumped onto the dock and Max handed the bags up to him so they could start the walk to their cabin. "How'd you find this place?"

Elliott shrugged. "Somebody on one of the boating sites recommended it."

"Looks nice." Max jumped up and they walked in silence for a while before he took another look at his brother's tight shoulders. "Elliott…" he started, wondering if he should mention the ex-wife. What the hell. "You're not doing all this just because of Rebecca, are you?"

Though Max had worried about offending him, Elliott didn't even look surprised, much less offended. "She was right."

"Aw, screw her," Max muttered. "You're a great guy. You know how many women would kill to marry a guy like you? You're totally stable. You're hardworking and honest and—"

"I'm not plugged in, I work too damn much and I'm boring as hell."

"That's bullshit."

"It's not bullshit."

Max scowled, shifting the duffel bag to his other shoulder. "You love your job."

"Yeah, I love my job, but it can't be everything. I always worked too much, but after the last flu crisis… I wasn't even surprised when she left, man. She'd given me enough warning."

Thinking of Rebecca, with her shiny black hair and bright blue eyes, Max shook his head. He'd first met her at his brother's wedding rehearsal, and his initial impression had been positive. She was lively, a real firecracker, only slightly overwhelmed by the stress of pulling off a perfect wedding.

Six months later, Max had returned from another long stint on the water and found that her liveliness had shifted toward restlessness and impatience with Elliott. Her hostile remarks about Elliott working on weekends had been interspersed with pointed observations about Max's work. Travel and excitement and weeks in exotic locations. She'd oohed and aahed until Max had been uncomfortable enough to leave early.

The truth was that life on the sea was utter boredom punctuated by moments of alarm. The tanned skin and windswept hair threw people off. But Rebecca hadn't been interested in explanations. She'd only been needling her husband.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Ridiculous and inane
By nicolebeth
Ridiculously stupid plot, and inane characters.

12 of 12 people found the following review helpful.
Crazy for love
By Samantha
Crazy for Love is a light, funny, read for the summer. Victoria Dahl brings to life the joy of finding romance in a crazy, quirky, fun way.

I had a hard time placing my feelings for this book. While I enjoyed it a lot, I was not in love with it. Sure it had some of my favorite elements: humor, hot steamy love scenes and a cute quick side romance. However there were some things that just did not gel together well enough for me.

Chloe Turner has had a rough past. She found out her fiancé did not die in a plane crash but instead faked his death, claiming her "bridezilla" attitude was the reason for his outlandish behavior. Since then she has been hounded by the media and resorted to an island with her best friend, Jenn to escape and gather her wits. What Chloe found was Max Sullivan, a hot treasure hunter, looking to untangle himself from his complicated life.
Max had a hero complex. He felt the need to help and save the people in his life. He had this real annoying way of making sure people around him never got hurt physically, emotionally or any other way. At one point, I had to wonder if this was a serious illness and why didn't the author go further into his problems. Sure, Chloe was the only one to spot his issues but once they were acknowledge, there was no resolution or outcome to it. Even when their romance continued on the mainland, Max's OCD was brushed aside as something he will eventually work out.

I enjoyed the premise of the story. I have never read a contemporary about a woman escaping the paparazzi because her fiancé claimed she was a lunatic bridezilla. The whole scenario was quite amusing. It was a great way to get the main characters to meet. The characters had an immediate chemistry but their own personal issues sometimes clouded the romance in the story. After a while, I was tired of hearing about Chloe complaining over the issues with the media and Max complaining how tired he was of taking on other people's burdens and responsibilities. I wanted to learn more about the characters and I was slightly disappointed.

Some of the more interesting story parts were between Elliot, Max's brother who went on the vacation with him, and Jenn. The nerd and the shy blonde bombshell seemed to be a perfect match. I actually wanted more time to develop their romance. Since Jenn was so shy, it took some time to see any action between them. Elliot had experience a painful divorce that had left him a little unconfident. It just felt like it was something the author added onto the bigger storyline and left hanging a bit.

Overall the story was interesting. It gave me a new take on Victoria Dahl. I would recommend Crazy for Love to contemporary fans. I plan to read more from this author in the future.

6 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
Crazy for Love by Victoria Dahl
By A. Schreiner
Chloe has been dragged off by her best friend Jenn to a remote island off of Virginia - for some rest and relaxation that is much deserved. A month ago, Chloe was planning her wedding to her beloved fiancé Thomas. But that abruptly ended when he went into a plane, crashed it and faked his death. Since then, the paparazzi have unfairly named Chloe the biggest Bridezilla there is and have been hounding her relentlessly.

Chloe, who is actually very nice, plain and simple and Jenn are not alone on the remote island. Their neighbors Max and his brother Elliott are also looking for some quiet time. Max is a professional diver, usually in the middle of the ocean somewhere looking for sunken treasure. His brother, a scientist recently divorced, wants to learn how to boat so Max, home on break has brought him to this location to show him the ropes. Max has a secret though. He constantly feels the need to be in control of every situation and worries about every single person around him. Which makes being a in charge of a dive team extremely stressful. When teaching Elliott how to boat, he worries about every aspect, and the Elliott's' safety the entire time.

Even with his worries, Max, who has swore off women for the past nine months, can't help but notice the very attractive Chloe. As he flirts, cautiously of course, a very tentative relationship develops. Chloe is desperate to escape the public eye and Max is panicked he is only in a relationship to "protect" Chloe. Max and Chloe both have secrets - is it too much for a simple summer fling?

Crazy for Love is such a fun and enjoyable read! Victoria Dahl knows how to write a very sexy, funny book that is the perfect summer reading. I once had a friend tell me that she thought Victoria Dahl wrote books just for me. And I have to agree - her humor makes me laugh, and her romance makes me do a dirty swoon. I was worried when I first started this book because Max could have easily reached that annoying level. When we first meet him he is worried Chloe's' campfire is too high and that she is taking diving lessons from an unknown trainer. He feels responsible for everyone he meets. I usually like my heroes to take charge and roar! Right ladies? Max is an obsessive worrywart. BUT - Victoria Dahl throws in a great twist. Chloe recognizes Max's "must be in control" behavior and totally calls him out on it. Actually, she is the first to have ever recognized it. He is astonished she actually sees the truth, but he is also absolutely relived. He no longer needs to be fake and charming. Even better, Victoria Dahl makes his weakness sexy.

I also thought Elliott and Jenn brought a lot into this story. Jenn is very nervous and awkward around men and Elliott is very unsure of himself. The two of them together, both attracted, but both very hesitant to make a move becomes a very endearing relationship.

My only problem with the book is Jenn has a secret pertaining to Chloe's embarrassing bridezilla accusation. That seemed to play out predictable and a bit foolishly. I get that Jenn wants to do everything to protect Chloe and not give up this secret that will in the end hurt her. But I think Chloe would have realized it or somehow this information would have reached Chloe in some capacity eventually. Otherwise, this really is a sizzling, fun summer read. I highly recommend.

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!! PDF Ebook A Precious Inheritance, by Paula Roe

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A Precious Inheritance (Harlequin Desire)

• Sales Rank: #3324592 in Books
• Published on: 2012-10-02
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .50" w x 4.21" l, .20 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 192 pages

About the Author
Former PA, office manager, theme park hostess, software trainer, aerobics instructor and Wheel of Fortune contestant, Paula Roe is now a Borders Books best seller and one Australia's Desire authors.  She lives in Sydney, Australia and when she's not writing, Paula designs websites, judges writing contests, battles a social media addiction, watches way too much TV and reads a lot.  And bakes a pretty good carrot cake, too!

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
"Five hundred thousand. I have half a million dollars, ladies and gentlemen. Any more bids?"

The auctioneer's French-accented baritone rose above the electric whispers spreading through the eager crowd at Waverly's. The atmosphere was a living, breathing thing, undulating in intense waves of excitement and curiosity, and Chase Harrington could practically feel the energy bouncing off each and every bidder in the room, the familiar subdued rumble of gossip reverberating off the velvet-papered walls.

The chandeliered auction room with its tufted high-backed chairs and polished wooden floor was a far cry from Obscure, Texas. And for once, no one was gossiping about him: they were all fixated on the auction.

Being able to offer D. B. Dunbar's hand-notated final draft for sale had been a massive coup for Waverly's, one of New York's oldest—and most scandalous—auction houses. Millions around the world had been riveted by the tragic death of America's famous children's author in a plane crash last October. But after the usual outpouring of grief, commentary quickly turned to the issue of the reclusive thirty-year-old's final book in his acclaimed Charlie Jack: Teenage Ninja Warrior series. Countless Facebook fan pages, regular trending on Twitter and fan fiction sites were all about one thing—was there a fourth book and, if so, when would it be published?

Now, that was full-scale attention.

Chase's fingers tightened on his paddle, nerves as tight as a teenager on his first date. Enter the distant relative, some cousin twice removed, desperate for money and fame.. Walter. .Walter… Shalvey, that was it. Yeah, Shalvey was a narcissistic bottom feeder, but unfortunately he knew how to play the media, drip-feeding just enough information to keep the story in the public eye for months. The guy was not only set for life, thanks to lucrative royalties and associated licensing fees from the first three books. There was also a fourth book—Dunbar's agent had just sold it for seven figures last week, with a scheduled publication date of April.

Which was way too late.

Chase cast an impatient glance over the crowded room. Judging by the turnout today, the hype had worked. Not that it was any old public auction, oh, no. Invitation only meant handpicked rich, famous or otherwise connected. He'd already spotted a politician and a socialite, plus an incognito actor who was rumored to be interested in the movie rights for his production company.

The extremely private Dunbar would probably be rolling over in his grave right about now.

"Any more bids?" repeated the auctioneer, his gavel poised and ready to call the sale.

Chase may have spent years honing his "detached and aloof" expression, but inside, a triumphant smile itched to escape. That manuscript would be his. He could almost taste it.

"Five hundred and ten thousand dollars. Thank you, ma'am."

A unified gasp coursed through the crowd, drowning out Chase's soft curse. Fist clenched tight on his paddle, he smoothly lifted it.

The auctioneer nodded at him. "Five hundred and twenty."

The sharply dressed blonde sitting next to him finally looked up from her cell phone. "You do know the book is being published in six months, right?"

"Yes."

She paused, but when Chase said no more, shrugged and went back to her phone.

Another wave of murmurs bathed the spectators, then… "Five hundred and thirty thousand dollars."

Oh, no, you don't. Chase raised his paddle again then followed the auctioneer's gaze.

His rival was on the far side of the room, three rows up, standing with her back against the wall. Petite, huge eyes, fiery-red hair pulled back into a no-nonsense hairdo, grim expression. He noticed all that within seconds then, oddly, that severe black suit isn't working with her pale skin.

Right. But she was determined, judging by the way she countered his bid again, her brows dipping before her chin tipped up defiantly.

She was also, he realized as he ruthlessly picked her apart, a woman totally focused on projecting a haughty, untouchable facade. A woman obviously used to getting her own way.

And just like that, a broken fragment of his past jabbed him, flattening his mouth as a thousand sour memories filled it.

Oh, no. You are not sixteen anymore and she is definitely not a Perfect.

The Perfects… Man, he'd managed to not think about those three jerks and their catty girlfriends in years. Perfect in looks, perfect in social skills, perfect in freezing out anyone labeled "unsuitable" by their beautiful standards. Goddamn Perfects had made high school a living hell. He'd barely gotten out alive.

He glared at the woman, cataloging the familiar arrogant tilt of her chin, the aura of entitlement and control, the superiority as she looked down her nose at everyone. Judging him, finding him lacking. Unacceptable. Unworthy.

Get it together, man. You buried that life a thousand times over. You're not that helpless boy with the white-trash parents anymore.

Yet he couldn't take his eyes off her. His teeth ground together so tightly his jaw began to ache.

He finally tore his gaze back to the auctioneer before the poison filled him, and called out loudly, "One million dollars."

The ripple of surprise erupted into a tsunami. Chase glanced over at his rival, his face expressionless. Try beating that, princess.

She blinked once, twice, those huge eyes studying him with such silent intent that he felt a frown furrow his brow.

Then she turned away, her paddle loose at her side as she shook her head at the auctioneer.

It was over a few seconds later.

Yes. Victory pulsed through him as he stood and made his way down the row of congratulatory observers.

"Congratulations," the blonde said as she followed him through the tightly packed crowd. "Me, I could think of better things to spend a million bucks on."

Chase gave her a thin smile then glanced across the room one last time.

She was gone.

He scanned the crowd. Blonde. Blonde. Brunette. Not red enough. Ah…

His gaze lingered and people began to move, finally parting to offer a better view.

She was talking to a tall blonde woman in a sharp suit, and as that woman turned, recognition hit.

Ann Richardson, beleaguered CEO of Waverly's.

He'd read more than he cared to about Waverly's these past months. Movie stars, scandals, a missing golden statue. Crazy stuff that belonged in bestselling fiction, not real life. Sometimes he found it hard to believe he actually moved in some of the same social circles.

But he knew firsthand how dark the flipside could be, especially when money was involved. Take Ann Richardson—a driven, charismatic woman who'd dragged the Waverly name through the tabloids, thanks to her alleged affair with Dalton Rothschild.

He scowled. There was something about Rothschild that rubbed him the wrong way… Oh, he had bags of charm and was a talented businessman, but Chase had never liked the way he seemed to seek the spotlight for every charity event, every donation he made. Too overdone, Chase had always thought.

While he suffered a few more handshakes, his gaze returned to the two women, noting the familiar way they chatted, the hand Ann placed on the redhead's arm, the smiles. Then they bent their heads and a quick volley of words flew, in between a few surreptitious looks that could only mean they were exchanging something private.

A sliver of doubt took hold.

Chase pulled out his phone and on the pretext of checking his calls, studied the women more closely.

To a casual observer, the redhead's appearance was impeccable. But Chase was looking for flaws and pretty soon his keen eyes found them. A loose thread on her cuff, sharp creases on her jacket—both pointed to lots of wardrobe storage. Then there was her bag, which showed faint wear along the leather handles.

He hesitated at her legs, appreciating the lean calves for a moment until he dragged his gaze down. Impossibly high shoes, shiny and obviously expensive. And vaguely familiar.

His thoughtful frown cleared. Yeah, that fashion designer he'd dated a few years back had had a thing for shoes and she'd had the exact same style in five different colors. If these were real, they were at least three years old. If they were fake, it only created more questions.

The redhead slowly shifted her weight from one leg to the other and winced, a dead giveaway that her feet were killing her. So, a woman not used to wearing fancy shoes. A woman—he quickly realized—who definitely did not have half a million to spare.

All those little anomalies exploded into full-blown suspicion. He'd seen more than his fair share of underhand deals not to realize something was off.

Anger flared, making his gut tighten. Coincidence? No way. Things always happened for a reason, not because of some cosmic karma. The redhead was up to something. Her conflicting appearance, her link to Ann Richardson, combined with Richardson's tainted reputation.

Anger and distaste swelled up inside. If Richardson had resorted to shill bidding then Chase was not going to let her get away with it.

Lost, lost, lost. Vanessa's red-heeled Louboutins tattooed out that one word as she clacked down Waverly's polished hall, her throat thick with disappointment.

Her failure had been briefly overshadowed by seeing Ann Richardson, her sister's college roommate, and for a few minutes she was simply Juliet's sister, exchanging friendly chatter and playing catch-up.

"Juliet's in Washington for a few weeks, you know," Vanessa had said. "You should give her a call and we could do lunch sometime. That is," she amended, belatedly recalling the recent sensational headlines, "if you're not too busy."

Ann smiled. "I'm always busy. But it is tempting. A chance to get away from the cit...

Most helpful customer reviews

4 of 5 people found the following review helpful.
Boring, No romance, No chemistry
By A Customer
This book was really, really, really boring. I am not sure why it was written in this genre. It had no chemistry, let alone romance.

I knew as soon as I read about the children finger painting with their food and it continued with their prominence in the book, that the story would move from developing the main male and female characters. It certainly did.

I guess the book could have been a regular book about families, but it surely was not a "desire" book.

The cover was pretty good, though. It would have been more accurate to add the two little kids and place around the woman. The title, maybe could be "a family affair"

0 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
A precious inheritance(the highest bidder)
By Cassie Luster
It was fun and a good read i enjoyed the compassion that was shared for sam and his father by Chase.

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HAVE A BEACHY LITTLE CHRISTMAS by Liz Allison and Wendy Etherington

An island romance between Tiffany McMillan, the boss's daughter, and Jesse Harwood, a NASCAR team engineer, is strictly forbidden, but can they keep the passion at bay during a company holiday getaway?

WINNING THE RACE by Brenda Jackson

NASCAR driver Miles Gregory roars back into town just for a Christmas wedding—until a reunion with his high school sweetheart gives him a reason to stay…

ALL THEY WANT FOR CHRISTMAS by Marisa Carroll

Santa, if you're listening, all NASCAR driver Trace Collier's daughter and single mom Carrie Ferrell's son want for Christmas is a family. 'Tis the season for mischief and matchmaking!

A FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS by Jean Brashear

NASCAR crew chief Gib Cameron gets a crash course in life's little surprises when he sees his first love, Cassie Wheeler.

Just what—or who—has she been keeping under wraps?

• Sales Rank: #1378272 in Books
• Published on: 2008-11-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .92" w x 4.21" l,
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The doors to the Eden Resort opened with a quiet whoosh as Jesse Harwood stepped into luxury.

Even after all the things he'd seen and done over the years with McMillan Motorsports, he wasn't prepared for the staggering extravagance of the lobby. The ultrahigh ceilings were painted with pastel beach scenes and trimmed in gold. Giant, leafy palms speared out of decorative urns. Vases boasting wildly colorful tropical flowers rested on thick glass tables, sitting on tiled floors of soft coral. And, because it was nearly Christmas, potted poinsettias, wreaths and a tree that had to be twenty-five feet decorated the room, giving it a holiday feel—even if it was seventy-five degrees outside.

He was equally unprepared for the stunning, curvy blonde standing, right where she belonged, in the middle of the opulence.

"Oh, good," Tiffany McMillan said, striding briskly— but still somehow sensually—toward them. "You're finally here."

But he didn't belong here. And moments like now baffled him as to just how he'd managed to drag himself from outcast to respectable, responsible engineer.

"Lady Tiffany," Greg Foster, the crew chief of the No. 56 team they all serviced, stepped forward and lightly brushed her cheek with his lips.

Jesse said nothing. Former outcasts didn't talk much around the boss's silver-spoon-fed daughter.

But then none of the other guys did more than nod at Tiffany. She was the kind of woman who turned confident men speechless and made the rest fight the urge to fall at her feet.

She smiled warmly at Greg, a teasing light in her sea-blue eyes, her long, straight, platinum-blond hair flowing down her back. "I've told you guys a dozen times not to call me that."

She wasn't simply beautiful and rich. She was nice. And seemed not to notice that every man in the room was staring at her with longing, while most of the women watched with envy.

Of course it hadn't always been that way. Well, the money and staring had always been there, but the niceness had come along more recently. Back in high school—the private and privileged school he'd attended only due to a financial scholarship—she'd been the stuck-up head cheerleader, homecoming queen and prom queen who'd dated the perfect, Ken-doll quarterback, while Jesse was the motorcycle-riding rebel pariah in torn, hand-me-down jeans.

As much as it was a cliché, that was their past.

Ten years later, the present was entirely different. Ken the Quarterback had gotten some other girl pregnant in college, gotten tackled too hard his junior year and lost his scholarship, and now supported their five kids with the liquor store they owned, though the rumor was he drank more than he sold.

And while Jesse had gotten his degree in mechanical engineering, thanks to a full scholarship, Tiffany had moved on to another loser guy, then another, and yet another. The last disastrous relationship had ended with Mr. McMillan driving down to the local police department to pick up the family silver that the guy had lifted on his most recent visit to the McMillan lakeside mansion.

Tiffany, after taking the lumps of her misfortune, had apparently come to the conclusion that so many wise people had before her—money doesn't buy happiness.

Tiffany Phase Two was nice. Everyone from the janitor at the shop to the CEO of Parsons Motor Oil, whose company sponsored their team, earned a sweet, welcoming smile from the boss's daughter. She knew the names of everyone's spouses, kids and mothers.

For Jesse, though, she still managed to reserve a special, hard place in her heart.

"You need to address her as Your Highness, Greg." Jesse smirked at her. "She is Daddy's Little Princess, after all."

Her gaze flicked to him, her eyes icing over.

Since he'd earned the hard place, he took no offense and instead smiled back sweetly.

Darrell, one of his oldest friends and a fellow engineer on the team, nudged him. "Cut it out," he whispered.

He wished he could, but he resented her being the one weakness in his life he hadn't overcome, cut out or simply ignored. Still, it wasn't her fault he'd fallen head over heels for her in high school and had never managed to completely let go of those feelings.

She walked—really more like slinked—toward him, her green-and-white halter-top sundress hugging that amazing body, her smile firmly in place, though the steely gleam in her eyes remained. She drew her pink-painted fingernail down the center of his chest. "I'm especially glad to see you, Jesse Harwood," she said in a sweet-as-sugar, exaggerated Southern drawl.

Though all the spit had dried in his mouth, he cocked his head insolently. "Is that so?"

She licked her lips, painted the same glossy shade as her nails. "Oh, yeah."

Every molecule in his body had stopped moving. Heat and longing spread through him like a fever.

How many times had he fantasized about her walking up to him one day, throwing herself into his arms, declaring she'd had a wild crush on him for years, and she just couldn't hold back her feelings any longer?

While he was tempted to punch himself to see if he was dreaming, she pulled out a stack of paper and envelopes from the designer briefcase slung over her shoulder. "For you," she said, handing him a sheet and an envelope.

As she turned away, handing the same items to the rest of the assembled group of shop employees and pit crew, it took him several moments to realize she'd dismissed him. The haze of desire began to lift. He glanced down at the paper. Schedule of Obligations.

What the hell was this?

As if she'd heard his thoughts, Tiffany faced the group and said, "My father and I are pleased you've all come to enjoy the weekend at the Eden Resort here on the beautiful Grand Bahama Island." She waved her hand to encompass the opulent lobby around them.

Like a damn spokesmodel, Jesse thought bad-temperedly.

"Together, McMillan Motor and Parsons Motor Oil," she went on, "are funding your entire trip. Our only request is that you fulfill the obligations to Hope House, the shelter for abused women and their children in the Charlotte area, which our company and Parson's have selected as our holiday charity project.

"There are two main events. The bachelor auction and fashion show will be held tonight by the pool, then the team dinner tomorrow night. Most of you will simply have to volunteer a bit of time tonight as service staff." She turned toward Greg. "Though you and Danny will be the stars of our bachelor auction."

Obviously unsurprised, Greg grinned. "Looking forward to it."

Jesse exchanged a relieved look with Darrell. At least they didn't have to strut around onstage like cattle. Their obligations were the same—assisting the resort's bartenders at the auction fund-raiser. Greg and their driver, Danny Walker, could have the embarrassing, high-profile jobs all to themselves.

"Where is Danny?" Greg asked.

"He arrived a few hours ago," Tiffany said.

As one of the top drivers in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series, Danny, like many drivers, could afford his own jet for traveling. Not that the rest of them had suffered on their journey. The McMillan Motorsports plane was lush and fast. Jesse still couldn't help shaking his head in amazement every time he stepped on board.

"He was by the pool last time I saw him," Tiffany continued. "Your rooms are all ready, and your luggage is being transported to them now. Inside the envelope are your room key, which also serves as your resort charge card, a map of the resort and information about Hope House. All your purchases will be taken care of with the exception of souvenirs. The concierge desk will be glad to organize any golf or shopping outings. My room number is listed on your schedule, and I can be reached by walkie-talkie at any time during the weekend if you just ask a member of the resort staff to contact me. Any questions?"

"When does the bar open?" one guy asked.

Tiffany glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch. "It opened ten minutes ago. I hear the drink of the day is Santa's Special Bahamian Delight. It packs quite a punch, so be careful. Anybody else?"

Darrell poked Jesse with his elbow, a clear warning to keep silent.

Since Jesse's only question was wondering what color—and how small—her bikini was, he decided to keep that to himself.

"Thanks for coming," Tiffany said cheerfully when no one else spoke up. "Enjoy your weekend."

The group broke apart, couples heading off together, while the single guys remained in a gathered knot. Unfortunately, this gathering of employees from McMillan didn't have any single women, except for Tiffany—and she was off-limits.

Since the business had grown so much over the past several years, the trips had been broken into two groups. The office staff, flight crews, maintenance, research and development and interns had come down the beginning of the week. Now, for the weekend, they had the shop employees, pit crew and hauler drivers.

The beach, though, was sure to provide plenty of curvy distraction for Jesse and his buddies.

As he and Darrell started to head toward their rooms, he overheard Tiffany say to Greg, "Please make sure Danny doesn't overindulge today and gets to the auction on time."

He bowed. "Your wish is my command, Lady McMillan."

She smiled slightly, then caught Jesse's gaze and all but snarled. With one last, fulminating look at him, she turned and walked away.

"Why are you always such a jerk to her?" Greg wanted to know.

Shoulders hunched, Jesse jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Damned if I know."

"He's got a thing for her," Darrell said.

"I do not." The fact that he'd once worn a black leather jacket to school, while Darrell had cherished his pocket protector, but they'd become like brothers in the years since, was one of the great mysteries of growing up. "She's too prissy for me."

"Prissy?" Greg echoed. "You're crazy, man. She's smokin' hot."

"And way out of our league," Darrell added with a sigh.

And always will be, Jesse thought, watching her go with no small pang of regret.

Jesse Harwood. What a jerk...

Most helpful customer reviews

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Harlequin NASCAR Library
By Jutzie
A NASCAR Holiday 3
Have A Beachy Little Christmas by Liz Allison and Wendy Etherington
Jesse Harwood has the hots for a girl who never looked twice at him in high school....or so he thought. Their boss has brought them all to an Island for a special company getaway and it's time to stop dragging the past into the present.

Tiffany McMillan does all she can to please her dad and yet she feels like a failure. And then there's Jesse, a guy who just seems not to like her. After he starts treating her nice she finds that maybe an island fling might be on the menu.

Winning The Race by Brenda Jackson
Five years ago the man Lisa St. Claire loved gave her the shaft instead of an engagement ring. She's still not over him. For the first time in all those years he has returned to their small town for his best friends wedding. Unfortunately he's the best man and she's the maid of honor. Can she be strong enough to hide her love from him?

Myles Joseph never stopped loving Lisa. After seeing and being with her at the wedding he had no choice but to make sure she would be by his side forever. She thinks that NASCAR had pulled him away from her, that he left without looking back. Maybe it was time to tell her the truth about his quick departure.

All They Want For Christmas by Marisa Carroll
On a stormy icy night in Michigan, widower Trace Collier's life takes a turn when he needs to get out of the bad weather. When Trace and his gifted daughter Annie end up at Carrie Ferrell's campground his decision to stay with NASCAR or retire becomes tougher than he ever thought.

Carrie's ex had walked away after an accident that left their son with multiple surgeries and life on crutches more often than not. She learned not to date and depend on men because they always left. The handsome race car driver was no different she told herself even though she was falling quickly for the man and his daughter. Can someone rooted to one place like she is ever even consider a relationship with someone without roots?

A Family For Christmas by Jean Brashear
Gib Cameron was living his dream as the crew chief for a NASCAR team. All the championships couldn't replace the one empty place in his heart, his lost love. He finally returned home after thirteen years to spend time with his aunt and uncle and wouldn't you know the first day home he runs into her, the woman who broke his heart.

Cassie Wheeler Maguire couldn't believe her eyes when her daughter walked up to her with Gib. The man she never stopped loving but had kept a secret and lied to him. And now he's being nice and bringing her kids presents and getting them all to fall in love with him as well.

Four exciting and heartwarming stories are packed into this Christmas anthology.
**Some of the stories contain mild language

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Good reading
By Sharon Kirkwood
Very good reading for short stories. This is the third season I have read "A NASCAR Holiday". My only disappointment, author Pamela Britton was not able to contribute, I love her NASCAR themed books

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
nacar holiday
By Helen Phillips
You want to much information as to why we like or dislike the things we have bought. Its a good book.

See all 7 customer reviews...

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He's Just The Hired Help… 

What kind of cockeyed Pollyanna is Colin Cade working for? Her porch is rotting, her "guest cabin" is cheerless and her land and livestock have only a geriatric cowboy to care for them. Yet Hannah Shaw is positive she can turn her ranch into a successful B and B—and that Colin's the man to make it happen. 

But Colin can't stick around. He lives with the loss of his family by avoiding the memories, and the way he feels around Hannah and her young son is like a knife to the heart. Trouble is, he's better at ignoring his own pain than someone else's, and bright, cheerful Hannah has a heart as haunted as his own. She deserves to be happy—but could she really be with him?

• Sales Rank: #2231497 in Books
• Published on: 2014-06-03
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Dimensions: 6.62" h x .61" w x 4.21" l, .24 pounds
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 224 pages

About the Author
Tanya Michaels is an award-winning author of over forty romances, a six-time RITA nominee and the mom of two highly imaginative kids. Alas, Tanya's hobbies of reading, oil-painting and cooking keep her much too busy to iron clothes. She and her husband are living out their slightly wrinkled happily-ever-after in Atlanta, but you can always find Tanya on Twitter, where she chats with followers about books, family and TV shows ranging from Outlander to iZombie.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
For Colin Cade, one of the chief selling points of his motorcycle had been solitude. He preferred being alone, making it a conscious choice rather than a tragic circumstance, but that meant a lot of time in his own head. Unfortunately, not even the Harley could outrun his thoughts. Or his anger.

How the hell had he—a man who'd lived like a monk for the better part of two years—been fired for "sexual misconduct"?

Raising younger siblings had taught him patience the hard way, but right now his temper was providing uncharacteristic daydreams of shaking Delia McCoy's shoulders until her professionally whitened teeth rattled. She'd had no business showing up naked in his bed. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that his former employer's wife didn't even want an affair. There had been plenty of other men working the ranch who would have taken advantage of her adulterous offer. So why target the guy who'd never once returned her flirtatious smiles? Was it possible she only wanted to shock Sean McCoy into paying more attention to her? Ranches took a lot of work, and Delia had complained to anyone who would listen that her husband neglected her.

Maybe she had cause to be bitter, but that sure didn't give her the right to screw up Colin's life.

He was supposed to have stayed on at the McCoy place for another month. The McCoys were crossbreeding Angus and Hereford cows, and Colin, the former owner of a large-animal vet practice, had been hired to help deliver calves and see them off to a healthy start. His job would have included routine disease prevention and facilitating adoption for the expected twin sets and any heifers that lost their babies. His next contract—helping move two herds to the high country for summer grazing—was all lined up, but the cattle drive was nearly six weeks away, after his brother's wedding.

What was he supposed to do in the meantime?

An old trail guide acquaintance had given him a possible lead, but he had sounded skeptical about it. "There's a lady in the northwest, not far from where I hired on, who's been looking for help. The Widow Shaw. None of the qualified ranch hands will waste time working for her, because her place is going belly-up any day now. Everyone knows it 'cept her. Frail little thing is clearly addled. Bakes the best rum cake I've ever had in my life, though."

Despite his friend's warning, Colin thought the job sounded promising enough to head for Bingham Pass and call on the Widow Shaw.

After his last two jobs—which had included the naked Mrs. McCoy and, prior to that, a moony-eyed teenage daughter of a foreman in Routt County—an elderly, absentminded woman who liked to bake sounded perfect. Colin wouldn't stay long, but while he was there, he'd do what he could to get her back on her feet. And if that proved impossible…well, life sucked sometimes.

Who knew that better than him?

Inhaling deeply, Hannah Shaw took stock of her situation. The early evening sky was starting to darken sooner than it should, and she had a flat tire on a stretch of road where cell service was nonexistent. How was it possible that astronauts could tweet from space, but there were still places in modern Colorado where a woman couldn't get bars on her phone?

Bright side, Hannah. Find the bright side. After four years, her mantra was automatic. She tried every day to keep the vow she'd made in that hospital bed, to live with courageous optimism. Of course, that vow was currently being challenged by unyielding loan officers and the countless maintenance issues she'd inherited along with the Shaw family ranch. But she hadn't survived this long by whining or embracing negativity.

The silver lining here was that Evan was spending the night at her friend Annette's house instead of watching with worried eyes from his booster seat. Also, Hannah had successfully changed a flat tire once before, so there was no reason to think she couldn't do it again. If the problem had been, say, her carburetor, she'd really be screwed.

"I got this," she muttered, flipping on her hazard lights. She wished she'd been able to move the truck farther off the road, but there wasn't exactly a reliable shoulder on these winding curves. She shrugged out of the lightweight blazer she'd borrowed from Annette. Beneath it, Hannah wore a white blouse that strained at the buttons down her chest, a premotherhood relic from the back of her closet. It was one of the few items in her wardrobe professional enough for a bank meeting, and the neatly buttoned jacket had camouflaged the imperfect fit.

As she twisted her long black hair up in an elastic band, she tried not to dwell on the banker's condescending expression. She'd once again been told that maybe after she made significant improvements on the ranch, demonstrating that it was a solid investment, she could reapply. How was she supposed to make "significant" improvements without funds? She'd planned to rename the spread the Silver Linings Ranch, but it might be more accurate to call it The Catch-22. She'd received money after Michael's death, of course, but a good chunk of that was in savings for Evan. Despite her careful planning—and the money she'd set aside to hire competent help—she had underestimated how much work the ranch would need before she could realize her plans.

One thing at a time. Fix the tire now, save the ranch tomorrow.

She climbed down from the cab and went to the back of the truck, where the tools and spare tire were kept under a cover that could be worth more than the vehicle. Note to self: maybe you should start keeping spare work clothes in the bed of the truck. While she wouldn't necessarily mourn the ruination of the tight blouse, getting on the ground to change the tire was going to be murder on her pretty navy skirt.

A rumble of thunder echoed off the surrounding mountains, confirming Hannah's suspicions about the prematurely dark sky. Rain hadn't been in the forecast until tomorrow, but spring storms could move fast. Which meant she had better move fast, too.

Hurrying, she found a couple of good-size rocks on the side of the road to place in front of the tires. She was reluctant to completely trust the pickup's emergency brake. The air seemed to crackle with expectancy, and wind whipped around her, chilling her skin. She'd only ever changed the tire on a car, and there had been a notch where the jack belonged. The truck did not have one. She was feeling around, trying to determine the correct place for the jack so she didn't crack anything on the undercarriage, when the sky opened. Fat drops pelted her with enough force to sting.

But on the bright side, after a couple of years of drought, ranchers like her really needed the rain.

The shower had moved in fast, catching Colin by surprise. He'd anticipated getting into town before the rain started. He was scanning the side of the road for possible shelter when he rounded the curve and saw a stopped truck.

A woman knelt by a tire in the path of traffic. Not that there were any cars in sight, but lives could be taken in an instant. Stifling unwelcome memories—the call from the hospital, the twisted wreckage—he steered his motorcycle off the road and lifted his helmet.

"Need a hand?" he called over the rain.

The woman stood and he realized that, while she didn't even reach his shoulder, she wasn't tiny everywhere. She looked like the generously endowed winner of a wet T-shirt contest. A blouse that had probably once been white but was now translucent was plastered to an equally see-through lace bra. He abruptly glanced away but not before catching a glimpse of dark, puckered nipples.

In one motion, he ripped off his leather jacket and shoved it toward her. "Here."

"Thanks." Cheeks flushed with color, she accepted the coat, her hazel eyes not quite meeting his.

Watching her put on his clothing felt uncomfortably intimate, and he found himself annoyed with her for being here, in his path. "Don't you have some kind of road service you could call?"

"Even if I did, there's no reception here. But I'm not incapable of—"

"Wait in the cab," he ordered. "No sense in both of us getting drenched."

Her posture went rigid, and she drew herself up to her full—what, five feet? But she didn't argue. "Far be it from me to look a gift Samaritan in the mouth." Once inside, she rolled down the window. Literally. The truck had one of the manual window cranks that had been replaced with electric buttons in most modern vehicles. She seemed to be supervising his work.

"This truck is ancient," he said. "God knows why you're driving it when the kinder thing would be to shoot it and put it out of its misery."

"It's not that bad," she retorted. Was that indignation or worry in her tone? "It just needs a little TLC."

He grunted, focusing on getting the tire changed. Stomping on the wrench to loosen the lug nut felt good. He was in the mood to kick something's ass. By the time he had the spare in place, the rain had shifted to a heavy drizzle. Ominous black clouds rolled closer. The storm might be taking a coffee break, but it hadn't quit.

"That spare's not going to get you far," he warned. "It's in lousy shape. Kind of like the rest of this heap."

His disdain encompassed the replacement door that was a different color from the body of the truck and a side mirror that looked loose.

She met his contempt with a half smile. "On the bright side, getting the flat gave me a chance to rest the engine and let the radiator cool down. Don't worry, my ranch is only a few miles away. In fact, you should come with me. Wait out the storm. Judging from those clouds, we're in for a lot worse."

Although he recognized the logic in her words, the invitation irked him. "Lady, I could be a serial killer. You don't invite strangers home with you."

"Not normally, no." Her hazel eyes darkened, her expression somber. "If it helps, I was taught self-defense by a marine and I'm a lot tougher than I look."

A sizzle of lightning struck close enough to make both of them start.

"You shouldn't be riding that motorcycle in this," she scolded. For a split second, she reminded him of his sister, Arden. Not all women were so at ease bossing around grown men who towered over them. He wondered if Hazel Eyes had brothers. If they worked on that ranch she'd mentioned, it could explain why she wasn't worried about bringing a total stranger home with her.

"Come on," she prompted, impatience creeping into her tone as more lightning flashed. "I have enough problems without picking up my morning paper and seeing that you got fried to the asphalt."

He didn't realize he was going to agree until the words left his mouth. "Lead the way." He hadn't been there the day a car accident had shattered his world, hadn't been able to do a damn thing to help. He found he couldn't abandon this woman until she and her rattling joke of a truck were out of the rain.

Mounting his bike, he shook his head at the unexpected turn of events. Hazel was not the first woman who'd invited him back to her place. But it was the first time in two years that he'd accepted.

Colin was too occupied with the diminishing visibility and handling his bike on the dirt road to study his surroundings. He had a general impression of going through a gated entrance; farther ahead were much larger structures, likely the main house and a barn or stable. But the truck stopped at a narrow, one-story building.

The woman parked in the mud, gesturing out her window that he should go around and park beneath the covered carport, where the motorcycle would be out of the worst of the elements. She joined him under the carport a moment later, her hand tucked inside the purse she wore over her shoulder. He wondered if she had pepper spray or a Taser in there. She'd sounded serious when she mentioned the self-defense lessons.

"This is the old bunkhouse," she said. "I'm about to start refurbing it as a guest cabin, but at the moment it's mostly empty."

He supposed that any brothers or a husband lived in the main house with her. Although what caring husband would let his wife drive a disaster on wheels like that truck?

She tossed him a key ring and nodded toward the door. "You can get a hot shower, dry off. There's a microwave and a few cans of soup in the cabinet. Before you tell me I'm naive and that you might be a master burglar, let me assure you there's nothing to steal. I doubt you could get thirty bucks on Craigslist for the twin bed and microwave combined."

He unlocked the door, noting how she kept a casual but unmistakable distance. Once he'd flipped the light switch, he saw that she was right about the lack of luxuries. The "carpet" was the kind of multipurpose indoor/ outdoor covering used more in screened patios than homes. There was enough space for three or four beds, but only one was pushed against the wall. At one end of the long, rectangular interior was a minifridge and microwave, at the other a bathroom. Aside from a couple of truly ugly paintings of cows, the place was barren.

He stopped in the center of the room, raising an eyebrow. "The minifridge brings up my Craigslist asking price to thirty-five."

She gave a sharp laugh, abruptly stifled. "Sorry the accommodations aren't classier. The ranch is…in a rebuilding phase."

The note of genuine embarrassment in her voice made him uneasy. "It's plenty classy. I've slept on the ground during cattle drives and in horse stalls on more than one occasion." By slept, he meant tossing and turning, trying to avoid nightmares of everything he'd lost.

Those hazel eyes locked on him, her expression inexplicably intense. "You work with livestock!"

Isn't that what he'd just said? "As often as I can." He preferred animals to people. "Sometimes I do other odd jobs, too. I was headed into Bingham Pass to get more information about a local employment opportunity."

"Then you haven't already committed to it?" A smile spread across her face, revealing two dimples. "Because, as it happens, I'm hiring." She stepped forward, extending her hand. The oversize jacket parted, revealing a still damp but not entirely transparent blouse. Thank God.

"I'm Hannah."

Hannah, Hazel. He'd been close.

"Hannah Shaw," she elaborated when he said nothing. "Owner of the Silver Linings Ranch."

Foreboding cramped low in his belly. Paralyzed, he neglected to shake her hand. "Not the Widow Shaw?" The one who baked cakes and harbored delusions of being a rancher?

She frowned. "People still call me that?"

Crap. It was her. He'd imagined Mrs. Shaw would be a temporary solution to his problems, but now, meeting her earnest gaze, his instincts murmured that she posed far more threat to his safety than any rifle-wielding jealous husband.

Most helpful customer reviews

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Finally Colin's story!!
By Tiffany Williams
"...you never know. A lot can happen in a month."

Let me tell you...I have been waiting for Colin's book. I might have begged Tanya for him. hehe:)When he was first introduced in The Colorado Cades series, I knew he would be my favorite.

Colin Cade had been through a traumatic experience that no one should go through. After loosing his wife and young son years ago, he went into a seclusion of sorts. His siblings, Arden and Justin, tried to get him to come around more but it was too hard. Grief is never easy.
When a fill-in job opens up at a ranch, Colin jumps at the opportunity. It's his escape...work.
What he didn't expect was Hannah Shaw and her son Evan aka Super Ev. How can he be around this woman and her child? It's too hard! But it might be just what he needs.

"...he was experiencing the closest thing to peace he'd felt in longer than he could remember. And he was in no hurry to give that up."

Hannah had grief of her own and watching them work through it together was so beautiful. I might have teared up a few times. Darn, all these feels!!!

"I think you may be confused about the definition of perfection."~Hannah
"If I am, it's only because you redefine the word everyday."~Colin

Lawd! Swoon, freakin swoon! I love that man! Have I mentioned that, because I totally do!

Tanya couldn't have concluded this series any better! Colin's journey is wonderful and Hannah was is perfect companion. I highly recommend this book and series to anyone who believes in second chances and learning to live again.

"...happily ever afters aren't fairy tales. They're real for anyone brave enough to work for them."

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
heartfelt & emotional
By Jonel
This story is heartfelt and inviting. It’s also a very emotional novel. Michaels definitely put me through the ringer. I really enjoyed the pace of this novel. It was neither rushed nor lagging. It was simply a nice, quiet ride through the convergence of these characters’ lives. It was so easy to lose myself in. Michaels melds narrative with description, allowing you to see the world surrounding this story as the characters themselves see it.

I thoroughly enjoyed the characters in this novel. The main characters were exceptionally well yet realistically developed. It was nice to see characters that weren’t polar opposites interact in such a romantic (and antagonistic) manner. You can see both the similarities and differences in their backgrounds and how it causes them to act and react the way that they do throughout the novel. Also, neither of the characters remain static throughout the novel. They grow based on their experiences, without ever changing who they are intrinsically. The supporting cast of characters is also quite remarkable. I appreciate that they never overshadow the main characters without simply becoming placeholders in the novel.

Overall, this was a very emotionally charged novel that has captured my heart. I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it to romance enthusiasts and it has definitely sparked me to look further into Michaels’ work.

Please note that I received a complimentary copy of this work in exchange for an honest review.

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
OH MY HEAVENS – This is one hot book!
By Lyn Smock
OH MY HEAVENS – This is one hot book!
Finally we get to read Colin’s story. This is the third book in the Colorado Cades series. A wonderfully well written story with characters that make you want to invite them over for Sunday dinner. This does read as a stand-alone book – but take my word for it, you will want to buy HER SECRET, HIS BABY and SECOND CHANCE CHRISTMAS – they are all terrific! Tanya writes from the heart and her books never disappoint! Sizzle, suspense and laughter – what more could you ask for!

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