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Nina Crespo presents Cinderella and the Ghost by Marina Myles
A DANGEROUS ATTRACTIONWhen her demanding stepmother died, Ella Benoit knew just how far their fortunes had fallen, unlike her spoiled stepsisters. So she never expected the bequest from her late father. A chateau in France and the freedom to live her own life, all at once!
The chateau has seen better days, but Ella knows she can put the ruined house to rights. The life-size portrait of its first owner, Jean-Daniel Girard, seems to watch her work with approval, even pleasure. With bright blue eyes, strong features, and an athlete’s body, the viscount is a tempting sight even now, more than three hundred years after his tragic death. But the more she looks at the portrait, the more convinced Ella is that she’s met Jean-Daniel before. In another life, perhaps—or maybe, as the form who haunts the halls at night, invading Ella’s dreams…
Excerpt
As Ella passed the drawing room, she halted. Eerie goose bumps blanketed her arms. She felt drawn to the room as though she’d been in it before.
Heart thumping, she crossed the threshold under a sudden trance. Icy stabs of déjà vu assaulted her because the ornate furnishings and draperies seemed extremely familiar. Perhaps, she considered, I’ve seen the room in one of Adelaide’s real estate or decorating magazines.
Taking a few steps forward, she noticed a huge blank spot on the east wall. The area’s wallpaper not only showed a variance in color, it outlined a missing, life-sized painting or tapestry.
How odd. Why had the art work been removed? Where was it now?
An unrelenting force summoned her closer to the blank spot. Her inquisitiveness grew. If the missing object was indeed a life-sized painting, it must have taken forever to complete. She wondered about its subject. A landscape? More likely, a portrait.
Prodded to start a hunt, she went through several rooms on Château de Maincy’s main level. She searched the front parlor, the back parlor, and the music room. Her favorite was the ballroom. As she entered, a spark met her toes. Wide-eyed, she noticed that rays of sunshine cast a sparkling aura over its faded parquet floor. A glittering chandelier hung in the center of the gold-toned room, anchoring the enormous space.
When the chandelier caught a beam of sunlight, Ella received another spark. She put her hand to her warm cheeks. She could almost hear strains of a quadrille—and the drone of chatter as if she were at a party.
Not a party. She rephrased the thought. A ball.
Eyes blurred, she slipped into a deeper trance. Suddenly, she was wearing a stunning costume and was stepping into waltz with a debonair nobleman sporting a mask. The nobleman pulled her tightly against him. Other guests wearing masks looked on.
It was a masquerade ball! More scenes flashed before Ella. Warm wind gusted into the room and then—
Exiting the trance, she realized that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Why in heaven had she experienced that?
Her father had written that Ella had been at the château before. Yet she had no conscious memory of the visit. Maybe, she thought as she rubbed her eyes, the atmosphere of this house is too seductive to resist.
Still reeling from the vision, her attention shifted to a long-case clock in the corner. Its shattered face was visible through a hinged glass panel that hung ajar. The top of the clock bore a large, vertical gash.
How odd.
Ella inched closer. The open door revealed that the time-piece had been frozen at twelve o’clock. She touched the immobile hands—and in the bright light of the room, she noticed that the clock’s maker had etched his name and creation date into a groove bordering the clock’s pendulum.
Montbleu ~ 1703.
All at once, Ella remembered standing in front of the long-case clock, precisely like this. But how could that be? She must have repressed memories from her visit here as a child. Yet, she couldn’t explain the vision of herself dancing with the handsome man.
Once she confirmed that a life-sized painting wasn’t hanging in the ballroom, she made her way up the grand staircase. Inexplicably, she felt drawn to where she was going. When she reached the second floor of the house, she studied a wall of faded frescoes depicting late seventeenth century life. When something told her to go on, she padded to the third floor landing.
A palpable hush filled the corridor ahead of her. Then a charged stream of energy rushed through the hall. Since all the curtains were drawn over the arched windows, the hallway sat in darkness and shadow. Ella should be doing so many things. Unpacking. Cleaning. Deciding which bedroom would be hers. But a sense of urgency prompted her feet to continue.
What will I find in this part of the house? Glimpses of the valiant but very dead Jean-Daniel Girard?
Gulping, she opened door after door and peeked in. She finally came to a storage space, with an additional staircase leading up to an attic. Creeping up those stairs, Ella surveyed the articles on the landing. Broken mirrors and articles of furniture draped in white sheets lay strewn about. Tangled strings of cobwebs swathed the wood paneling.
A glowing beam of sunlight angled into the room. Ella’s pulse sped. In the corner, she spotted an item covered with a black cloth. The object reclined against the far wall—and appeared to be larger than she was. Pushing the curtains open, she allowed more sunlight to bathe the space. Hands quivering, she moved back to the draped item and pulled away the black cloth.
The painting’s gilded frame was stunning. On it, Ella located a nameplate.
Jean-Daniel Girard—Viscount de Maincy
1677-1703
Slowly, as though her life was being altered with every centimeter, her stare ascended to the nobleman’s astonishing face. Instantly, the world fell into a compelling silence.
Jean-Daniel Girard was tall, muscular, and inarguably handsome. In fact, his good looks were so striking that Ella could barely breathe as she gazed upon them. More than that, she knew she’d seen his face somewhere before. While she racked her brain about where she’d seen it, her gaze roamed over Jean-Daniel’s sold body, penetrating aquamarine eyes, and angular features. He could be described as classically handsome. The epitome of male beauty, really. And thankfully, that classic quality helped him transcend the fanciful clothing and wig he wore.
Ella took a step in and studied him some more. True to subjects painted in that era, he wasn’t smiling. Rather, he seemed a pensive and a bit melancholy. However, she could tell from the laugh lines bracketing his generous mouth that he grinned often.
Incredibly lifelike, Jean-Daniel seemed capable of emerging from the painting right then and there. Ella’s skin tingled.
Her gaze drifted to the adorable dog sitting at the viscount’s feet. A splendid example of a hound, it possessed a gleaming brown-and-white coated, an open mouth, and a protruding tongue. Oddly, the dog seemed to be smiling.
“I can tell you loved your master,” she murmured.
Mesmerized by the man in the painting, Ella stared at his image for what felt like hours. The more she analyzed it, the more she noticed its “lost soul” quality. She crossed her arms. No, that wasn’t it. Instead, there seemed to be something underlying the viscount’s solemn face. As if he weren’t solemn at all. As if he possessed a sense of unfinished business.
To die so young…
She finally looked at the portrait’s backdrop. A vivid depiction of Château de Maincy surrounded Jean-Daniel. A cluster of servants was working in the fields adjacent to the splendid house. Wide-eyed bluebirds perched on the tree branches over his wigged head.
So that’s the way the estate looked in its heyday.
Stepping closer, she zeroed in on Jean-Daniel’s astounding eyes. They seemed to come alive—and for the briefest moment, he did as well. If only they were on a first-name basis! The thought exhilarated her.
While she and the figure locked stares, a new layer of goose bumps sprang up on Ella’s arms. She retreated. Despite the warmth of the room, a chill barraged her body.
“Jean-Daniel Girard is quite swoon-worthy, non?” whispered an unfamiliar voice.
About Marina Myles
Marina Myles’s love of books began as soon as she read her first fairy tale. During her college days in Dallas, she received degrees in English Literature and Communications—and enjoyed the unique experience of being a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Now that she lives under the sunny skies of Arizona, she hasn’t left her glamorous life behind completely. After all, she gets to divide her time between her loving family, her loyal Maltese, and worlds filled with fiery—but not easily attained—love affairs. Visit her at www.marinamyles.com
Represented by Louise Fury of The Bent Agency
Works published by Kensington:
The Cursed Princes Series
BEAUTY AND THE WOLF
SNOW WHITE AND THE VAMPIRE
A WARLOCK’S DANCE (novella)
SLEEPING BEAUTY AND THE DEMON
CHRISTMAS AT THORNCLIFF TOWERS (novella)
CINDERELLA AND THE GHOST
Nina Crespo presents Rank by D. R. Graham
RANK by D. R. Graham
the best bucking bulls are rank…and so are the cowboys who ride them
I exhaled and slid Shae-Lynn’s pink armband over my forearm. I kissed it, then did a prayer before climbing into the chute. “This isn’t about you anymore. I got something to prove.”
Rodeo is all Billy Ryan and his brother Cole have ever known — until one deadly wreck changes everything. With their mom requiring full-time care and Cole dealing with his own demons, Billy needs to step up to take care of his family. So he walks away from his future as a champion bull rider. Convincing himself he didn’t quit because he lost his nerve…
Barrel racer Shae-Lynn, the sweet good-girl-next-door, grew up with the boys on the rodeo circuit. She’s the only person who knows Billy better than he knows himself. She could help him get back in the ring, but there’s a limit to how many times she’ll watch him make the same mistakes. Especially when it comes to her heart.
When Cole’s gambling debts get out of control and the bills at home pile up, Billy has no choice but to enter a winner takes all bull riding event. He needs Shae-Lynn by his side, but that isn’t going to happen unless he figures out a way to cowboy up and prove he’s good enough for a woman like her.
See more at http://www.harperimpulseromance.com/books/rank/#sthash.2xKeszrk.dpuf
About D.R. Graham
D.R. Graham is the author of RANK & the BRAMPTON BEACH series (Summer 2015) for HarperCollins, and the NOIR ET BLEU MOTORCYCLE SERIES for Entangled Publishing. She worked as a social worker with at-risk youth for seven years before becoming a therapist in private practice. The clients she works with are children and teenagers and her novels deal with issues relevant to young and new adults in love, transition, or crisis. She is also an award winning columnist for the Richmond News. She currently lives in Vancouver, British Columbia with her husband.
Website – http://www.drgrahambooks.com/books.html
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/drgrahambooksauthor?ref=hl
Twitter – https://twitter.com/drgrahambooks
Pinterest – http://www.pinterest.com/drgraham/
Let’s Celebrate!
Join me later today on Facebook to celebrate Wendy Byrne and her book, The Millionaire’s Deception. See you there!
Friday, 27 March, 4:00pm – 6:00pm CDT.
Click here to join.
Sign: Taurus
He’s stubborn, but he loves his rewards…especially the sensual kind.
Rafe McCall has a reputation as the Closer. He rakes in serious cash to make deals happen. Convincing small restaurant owner Frankie Ritacco to sell his business for property development should have been a piece of easy, profitable cake. So Rafe blows into Wilcox, Iowa on his Harley, convinced that the deal is all but done. But he is so, so wrong…
For starters, “Frankie” is a woman. A stunning, stubborn woman who wants to preserve her idyllic small town. Despite her pitiful prospects for marriage and children, the Crossroads Café is part of Frankie’s family’s legacy. There’s no way she’s selling, even if she is tempted by a super-hot bad boy millionaire. Or if said bad-boy millionaire actually seems to genuinely want to help. But with Frankie’s café in serious trouble, Rafe must decide if he can close the deal… or if he’s found the deal breaker of a lifetime.
Nina Crespo presents Bewitching the Enemy by Dawn Chartier
A paranormal category romance from Entangled’s Covet imprint… an Amazon KindleBigDeal selection for just 99 cents through March 28!
Rebuilding New Orleans… one witch at a time
Dawn wouldn’t necessarily call herself a bayou girl, (A New Orleans lady sounds better, though it may not be true. LOL) but she does have the occasional gator park itself in her front yard. She’s not so much worried about the gators as much as she is about the snakes. (shivers)
Give Dawn anything chocolate and she’ll be your friend for life. When she isn’t fishing, golfing, writing or reading, you can find her on the beach or watching her favorite television shows such as Game of Thrones, True Blood, Supernatural, Hell on Wheels, and pretty much any home renovation show she can find.
Dawn loves writing contemporary and paranormal romance, but she loves reading everything with a HEA ending.
Nina Crespo presents Above All by Rebecca Brooks
Reeling from a sudden breakup, Casey Webb leaves Brooklyn, drives north and settles in a sleepy mountain town in upstate New York. She’s convinced she’s happy being alone—until she reads the acknowledgments in her ex-boyfriend’s hit debut novel, thanking his new girlfriend “above all”.
Good thing Ben Mailer is in town. The hot, young Brooklyn-bound chef offers the perfect distraction, and soon Casey is having the best sex of her life—on a mountain, in the lake, all over her cozy cabin. But as their weekend fling turns into something more, the demands of Ben’s family and budding career make moving to her idyllic town impossible.
Now Casey must decide what she can’t live without—her life in the mountains or the man she wants as hers. Smart, sweet and blisteringly hot, Above All is about getting lost…and finding yourself right where you belong.
About the Author
Rebecca Brooks lives in New York City in an apartment filled with books. She received a PhD in English but decided it was more fun to write books than write about them.
She has backpacked alone through India and Brazil, traveled by cargo boat down the Amazon River, climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, explored ice caves in Peru, trekked to the source of the Ganges, and sunbathed in Burma, but she always likes coming home to a cold beer and her hot husband in the Bronx.
Her books are about independent women who leave their old lives behind in order to try something new—and find the passion, excitement, and purpose they didn’t even know they’d been missing.
Website: http://rebeccabrooksromance.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BeccaBooks
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rebeccabrooksromance
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22831547-above-all
Google plus: https://plus.google.com/101182326009894202845
Excerpt
One of Casey’s additions to the office had been to put up a bookshelf to house the collection of used paperbacks Geller had accumulated as campers came in to take a book or leave one behind. It wasn’t the greatest library ever amassed, but it kept Casey’s book collection rotating more than if she’d been stuck driving forty minutes to the nearest bookstore any time she wanted something new.
Trash was probably the precise term Nick would have used to describe the murder mystery she was engrossed in with her muddy boots hanging over the edge of the desk. Lucky for both of them, Nick wasn’t up there to share his opinions on taste.
When she heard tires crunching over the dirt, Casey looked up with a start. The office clock said just past nine. She’d had no idea of the time. She’d have to check this group in quickly and then get home.
A dark-brown head poked into the office, accompanied by the sounds of car doors opening and closing and staccato bursts of laughter punctuating the night.
“Come in,” Casey called, cracking the spine to rest the book across the desk. “Quickly, you’re letting the moths in.”
The screen door slammed shut.
Casey was so busy scanning the lines of the ledger Geller kept by hand to check in arrived that she didn’t look up until the man had crossed the office and was standing directly in front of the desk.
“I’m Ben,” he said. “I spoke to a gentleman on the phone?”
Casey looked up.
And tried not to fall back in her chair. He was boyish, with straight dark hair long enough to stray into his eyes and a dimpled grin that carved two apostrophes into his cheeks and another in the center of his chin when he smiled. He was tall and even under his black North Face fleece she could tell how lean and muscular he was. He had soft brown eyes and thin lips with a look like a puppy dog that had cultivated its sweet expression just to make you want to hug it.
“Sure,” Casey said, rooting unnecessarily around the papers on the desk to give herself something to do besides stare. She was flustered by how good-looking Ben was, and even more flustered that she’d been so disarmed. “That was Mr. Geller. He said you’d be coming in. You’re eight?”
Ben Mailer, who definitely wasn’t a beefy ex-football player, confirmed.
“I hope it wasn’t too last minute, but he said there was plenty of space.”
Casey nodded, still distracted. He may not have been back in college but he sure looked as if he could be. She felt like a cradle-robber just looking at him. But it was impossible to pull her eyes away.
She heard his friends outside, laughing about some joke they’d shared in the car. A guy with dark hair buzzed close to his temples and matching thick stubble across his face came in and Casey’s first, totally unprofessional thought was that at least he looked older than Ben—late twenties, maybe, with lines under his eyes that said he was no stranger to late nights. Maybe they were actually the same age and Ben only looked younger. The idea made her feel slightly better about the way his eyes were sending something icy and hot shooting through her veins.
But no matter how old he was, it was still unnerving to realize that she couldn’t stop wondering what he must look like without that trim fleece jacket.
“Hey man,” the guy with the stubble sauntered over to the desk. “Know where we’re going to be?”
Ben turned to Casey. “We have four tents,” he explained, “but we can arrange them however you want.”
Ah. Well, that answered that. Four couples, Casey reasoned, marking down the numbers. It looked like lucky Ben had one very lucky girlfriend. That at least ought to make her stop thinking things that definitely shouldn’t have been running through her mind.
“How many vehicles?” She tried to keep her voice steady, even though she couldn’t make herself look up and meet his dark, luminous eyes. Especially not with his friend there, who was probably wondering what was wrong with the lady behind the desk.
“Two. I’m so sorry we’re so late. We got a little lost in the turnoff from 87 in the dark. I hope you’re not staying open longer just to check us in.”
Casey assured him it was fine, a little unnerved by how polite he was. Somehow it wasn’t what she expected from kids up for a reunion, even though, she reminded herself, she obviously had no idea what Ben was like.
And had no intention of finding out, a stern voice in her head warned.
Casey blinked furiously and tried to stay on track. She wrote down the license plates to their two SUVs, went through the rules of the campsite and showed on a map where to walk to their sites. Counting out the change to Ben’s deposit—while eyeing his long, slender fingers resting on the desk—she couldn’t help wondering who his girlfriend was waiting outside.
“So where’d you guys come in from?” She made her voice casual as Ben passed the maps to his friend.
“All over. Boston, New York.” He gestured vaguely. “We all went to Vassar and stayed here once, right before we graduated. So, you know, we thought it’d be fun to get together again.”
The man with the stubble clapped Ben on the shoulder. “This guy is way too modest. He’s studying at the Culinary Institute of America and we’re here to give him a well-deserved weekend off. He’s been working like a dog.”
“Have not,” Ben said good-naturedly, but somehow his smile didn’t quite reach his dark eyes.
His friend, though, hardly noticed Ben’s sudden unease. “We’re hoping he remembers us so that when he opens up the best restaurant in New York City, we’ll be comped free meals since we won’t be able to afford a single slice of bread.”
Ben winced, but as soon as Casey told him, she hoped he’d enjoy his time off, a lopsided grin spread across his face. This time, it lit up his eyes.
“Make sure you have flashlights,” she said quickly to cover up the way her pulse escalated when he caught her eye and brushed back a rogue strand of hair. “Be careful of roots and rocks, that sort of thing.”
Ben nodded, but as his friend went out to find the campsite, he hung back, looking around. Casey told herself it had nothing to do with her, but even so, some small spark fluttered inside as his eyes lingered.
“What’re you reading?” Ben asked as he looked over the bookshelf.
“High-quality material.” Casey lifted up the cover and explained the system she’d set up.
“Pretty ingenious—maybe I’ll bring you something.”
“Sure,” she said, trying to keep her mouth in a straight line. For some reason, the edges kept wanting to pop up.
Someone called from outside, asking Ben for the keys, and at last he turned to go. On his way out, he wished Casey a good night and then reached up to tap the back of the doorframe before swinging the door shut behind him.
She really, really wished he hadn’t.
Because lifting his arms to the doorframe made his jacket rise up enough to expose the top of his low-slung jeans. As well as the thin green line of his boxers hugging his hips underneath. It didn’t take X-ray vision to know that just above that patch of skin, hidden by his white undershirt and whatever else he had on under his black North Face fleece, were two long dimples carved into his lower back, matching the dimples on his face.
Officially the sexiest part of any man’s body and the one thing Casey dreamed about on those rare nights when she did, in fact, allow herself to dream.
But this was not going to be one of those images she replayed in her mind’s eye. She was already berating herself for noticing. Not only had she turned to putty simply because he slid the hair out of his eyes as if he didn’t know the gesture would make every girl within a ten-mile radius want to extend her hand to his cheek. But she, Cassandra Webb, competent, capable, got dumped on her ass but still got back up again, thirty-four-year-old independent woman, had checked out his twenty-something-year-old butt.
She made herself swear she wouldn’t give him a second thought. She wasn’t interested. Period. She’d come to the woods to be alone and she fully planned to stay that way. She was going to read a little more until she was sufficiently distracted and then head back to her cabin, warm some cookies in the microwave, and go to sleep. Geller would take over registration in the morning and she would never see this group again.
Casey reached for her book, but she couldn’t stop her hand from hovering over the ledger. Before she knew what she was doing, she allowed herself a quick peek at the records and groaned.
Geller’s handwriting was unmistakable. They were staying for four days, three nights. There was no way she wouldn’t find herself looking at those dimples again.
Nina Crespo presents One Percenter by D.R. Graham
ONE PERCENTER is the first book in D.R. Graham’s NOIR ET BLEU MOTORCYCLE SERIES.
when you love people the rest of the world is terrified of…
Eighteen-year-old Tienne Desrochers grew up in the rough world of the Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club. Bikers. Family. Outlaws. But after her dad’s murder, she decides she’s had enough. Refusing to end up like her drug-addicted mom, Tienne grabs her younger brother and leaves it all behind…including her boyfriend, Aiden Gyllenhall.
More comfortable in the middle of a bar fight than at a country club, living with her wealthy aunt and uncle is an adjustment, to say the least. No swearing. Designer shoes that pinch. And charming, corporate types like Leland Crofton instead of super-sexy, tattooed Aiden. But even the upper class can’t escape the toxic touch of underworld violence. And this time, Tienne won’t just learn who she really is—she’ll learn who has her back.
About D.R. Graham
D.R. Graham is the author of RANK & the BRAMPTON BEACH series (Summer 2015) for HarperCollins, and the NOIR ET BLEU MOTORCYCLE SERIES for Entangled Publishing. She worked as a social worker with at-risk youth for seven years before becoming a therapist in private practice. The clients she works with are children and teenagers and her novels deal with issues relevant to young and new adults in love, transition, or crisis. She is also an award winning columnist for the Richmond News. She currently lives in Vancouver, British Columbia with her husband.
Website – http://www.drgrahambooks.com/books.html
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/drgrahambooksauthor?ref=hl
Twitter – https://twitter.com/drgrahambooks
Pinterest – http://www.pinterest.com/drgraham/
