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An exclusive chat with Virginia Heath, celebrating the release of NEVER FALL FOR YOUR FIANCÉE - featuring her period drama recs!

What inspired you to write your Merriwell Sisters series?

It was an idea that had been bubbling around in my odd head for a while. I love the dynamics you get with a family, hence I the sisters focus of the series. Siblings always have the most interesting and complex relationships because you have that unbreakable bind of love and loyalty butting against the different personalities and ages. Minerva, Diana and Venus Merriwell both adore yet regularly want to strangle one another which I think anyone with a brother or sister can relate to. It also makes for good comedy. With the Merriwells, I wanted to write a romcom cross between My Fair Lady and The Importance of Being Earnest, with a bit of Bridget Jones in a corset with some of the farcical aspects of TV’s Frasier tossed into the mix. I’ve always had a love of Oscar Wilde and the old Hollywood musicals - sad but true. I adore Wilde’s witty prose and the flawed but endearing characters he creates, so in homage, my hero Hugh is a lovable rogue a bit like Earnest, and his match-making mother has elements of Lady Bracknell about her. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched My Fair Lady, and Eliza Doolittle’s journey from the gutter to the highest echelons of society certainly formed part of the inspiration for Minerva Merriwell my heroine.

Why do you love writing historical romance?

It’s a proper escape from everyday life, and after the last eighteen months, I think we all need that right now more than ever. I am - was - a history teacher by trade so I’ve always had a love of the past and that background certainly helps now that I write about it. There is something compelling about a historical backdrop because the characters feel familiar - because people are reliably people no matter what century they happen to exist in. Yet there is a romance to the customs and rules they had to abide by in days of yore. Limitations which we in the modern world do not have to deal with but which add a unique frisson to a historical romance, and a sense of gallantry, honour and politeness which seems to be often missing nowadays. And then, of course, historically, history loved to throw up obstacles to keep women in their place and so obviously, that provides the perfect setting to create kickass heroines who refuse to comply and run rings around the heroes. That’s the best part of my job!

Do you remember the book that made you first fall in love with romance fiction? What do you think makes the best kind of love story?

I’ve always been a reader so its hard to narrow that down to just one book, so I’ll plump for a few authors instead who made me fall in love with the romance genre. Penny Vincenzi and her colourful doorstoppers often kept me company on my tube rides into London in the 90s when I worked in the city. So too did Jackie Collins, Sandra Brown and the amazing Nora Roberts. Her Montana Sky is my all time favourite contemporary romance as it’s a work of genius involving 3 warring sisters, 3 separate love stories which are all woven together seamlessly while a deranged serial killer tries to top them off one by one. My gateway into historical romance cam by accident when my local bookshop had no new contemporary paperbacks, so I picked up one just so as I had something to read on my commute. It was The Duke and I, the 1st book in Julia Quinn’s Bridgerton series and frankly it changed my life. Not only did it I devour every regency I could get my hands on afterwards, when I finally got around to writing my own books, that became my genre too. And what makes the best kind of love story? That’s easy. One that takes you on a rollercoaster ride but still ends happily.

Do you have a personal favourite of all the novels you’ve written? Which is the book you get the most fan-mail/reader love for?

My favourite novel is always the one I am currently writing, so at this precise moment in time it's Never Rescue a Rogue, the sequel to Never Fall for Your Fiancée and the middle Merriwell sister Diana’s story. I am immensely proud of both books and hope readers love reading them as much as I’ve loved writing them. From my backlist, the books I get the most fan mail about are my Wild Warriners series where 4 down on their luck brothers each jump through hoops to find the woman of their dreams. Its another sibling series, and thanks to my love of those Hollywood musicals again, was inspired by Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

Can you tell us what is coming next?

Never Rescue a Rogue, obviously, followed by the final book in the Merriwell Sisters trilogy which I still have to write. I have no clue what happens yet as I cannot plot. Weird but true fact, I see and hear the story live as I type like a film in my head, so I never know what is going to happen in any of my books until the words appear on my computer screen. I’ve also got another new historical romance series coming out around Valentine's Day. My Very Village Scandal series kicks off with The Earl’s Inconvenient Houseguest. I’m breaking with the standard Regency romance traditions with this series because there are no lords (apart from the one in 1st book and to be fair to him, he never saw a peerage coming), no ladies and absolutely no Mayfair ballrooms. But in the quaint Essex village of Whittlestone-on-the-Water 30 miles from the capital, where everybody knows everybody else's business and love is in the air, there are, as you would expect from me, shenanigans aplenty.

And lastly...

My top 5 period drama recommendations are:

Bridgerton - because it’s a sumptuous, escapist delight.

Pride and Prejudice - because Colin Firth as Darcy is delicious.

North and South - because Richard Armitage makes me swoon and delivers the BEST. SCREEN. KISS. EVER.

All Creatures Great and Small - either the new or the old TV version. Or the books. Because naughty Tristan Farnham was my first serious crush.

Emma - the latest version because the fresh way Johnny Flynn plays Knightley is an absolute triumph.

Never Fall for Your Fiancée is available now from Headline Eternal! A hilarious, sparkling historical romantic comedy, with an irresistible family at its heart, perfect for fans of Julia Quinn's Bridgerton and Martha Waters. Buy here: smarturl.it/NFFYFVH 'Virginia Heath's fun characters and situations will have you laughing out loud! Don't miss this wonderful read!' Sabrina Jeffries 'Filled with fabulously British banter, wit, and heart, this delightful book is one of my must-read rom coms of the year' Evie Dunmore

Author Photo (c) Nicholls Photography

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A Halloween Treat from Headline Eternal celebrating TikTok sensation THE EX HEX by Erin Sterling!

Read an extract of the spellbinding second-chance rom-com THE EX HEX here and don't miss our cocktail recipe below!

“I hope this is what you wanted, cariad,” he said, handing her one of the bags. “You would’ve thought they were made of solid gold from the line for them.”

“Thank you,” Vivi said, giving the bag the kind of look she usually reserved for Rhys. “I dream of these all year.”

“And for you,” Rhys said, handing one to Gwyn, who took it with only slightly narrowed eyes.

“You’re making my cousin very happy and bringing me caramel-apple pie? Clearly working hard at getting another nickname besides ‘dickbag,’ dickbag.”

“I live in hope,” Rhys said, leaning against the counter as he folded down the wax paper and bit into his own pie.

Vivi waited, watching him, and smiled smugly as his own expression went a little dreamy. “All right, I understand the line now,” he said, then took another bite. “Vivienne, I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving you for the woman who makes these pies.”

“She’s ninety.”

“Even so.”

Giggling, Vivi finally took a bite herself, her eyes fluttering shut at the mix of salted caramel, butter pastry and cinnamon apples. “Okay, yes, marry Mrs. Michaelson. Just make sure you invite me to the wedding and serve these, okay?”

“A deal,” he said, then reached out to shake her hand. When Vivi took it, he tugged, pulling her up to the counter so he could kiss her, and Vivi laughed against his mouth, tasting sugar and salt.

THE EX HEX-inspired Caramel-Apple Pie Cocktail:

2 teaspoons toffee sauce

One shot spiced rum (or two if you want it stronger)

Two shots of cloudy apple juice

Ginger ale

Ice

1) Measure out the toffee, rum and apple juice and shake it in a shaker with some ice until combined.

2) Pour into a cocktail glass and top up with ginger ale.

For an alcohol-free version, just leave out the spiced rum and garnish with a cinnamon stick for added flavour.

And for a fancy touch, mix brown sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon, wet the rim of the glass and dip it in the spiced sugar to coat before you pour the drink.

THE EX HEX is out now from Headline Eternal! Buy here: smarturl.it/EXHEX

Readers are LOVING THE EX HEX ! 'If Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Gilmore Girls had a book baby, it would be THE EX HEX. And yes, it's just as glorious as it sounds!' 'I loved and adored everything about this book . . . everything I was looking for! 5/5 stars!' 'The vibes were immaculate' 'One of the best rom-coms I've read all year! . . . It's Practical Magic meets Gilmore Girls and I am a hundred percent OBSESSED!' 'Perfect for curling up with on an Autumn's evening. Definite Gilmore Girls vibes but with more magic and sex' 'A fantastic romance with more than a touch of magic' 'This book is pitched as Hocus Pocus, but it bangs and it certainly did'

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An exclusive message from Elizabeth Davis to celebrate the release of I LOVE YOU, I HATE YOU - featuring her romcom movie recs!

I’m so excited to be here today! I Love You, I Hate You is based on one of my all-time favorite romcoms, You’ve Got Mail, so let’s chat a bit about which romcoms inspired me, plus some recommendations for your romcom watch list.

Obviously, I couldn’t have written I Love You, I Hate You without You’ve Got Mail. But even beyond the enemies-in-real-life-but-soulmates-on-the-internet set up, I have always loved that Joe and Kathleen are the rare enemies-to-lovers couple where you also buy them as friends. To me, that’s a key part of making any couple – on page or onscreen – work. They can have chemistry for days, but if you don’t believe they’d also be happy just sitting on the couch, laughing at a dumb TV show? It just doesn’t work for me.

Another, perhaps less obvious, influence is the 1990s classic While You Were Sleeping. While the Chicago setting isn’t quite my beloved Minneapolis, it does have the same chilly midwestern charm and Bill Pullman’s Jack has a similar laid back, unconcerned vibe as my lead Owen. But more importantly, Sandra Bullock’s Lucy has a palpable loneliness that strongly influenced my leading lady Victoria. Victoria’s solitude is a bit more self-imposed than Lucy’s, but both of them learn to cautiously open themselves up to people throughout the course of the story. To me, the best romcoms are about more than just romantic love; they’re about people opening themselves up to love in all its forms.

Lastly, When Harry Met Sally has the best banter of just about any movie, ever, and I am a sucker for good banter.

Top Five RomComs to watch when you’ve finished I Love You, I Hate You (other than You’ve Got Mail, which obviously you already watched):

Set It Up: A rare recent entry to the romcom genre, Set It Up is about two young assistants who set up their high-powered, high-maintenance bosses so they’ll have a bit more free time. This is one of the best examples of the Hangout Romcom, a term I just made up to describe a couple that can believably just hang out, doing everyday stuff (eating pizza, going to a baseball game, going to a party), and you believe they’re falling in love the whole time. My only quibble is that there isn’t a sequel starring Lucy Liu, because her character deserves her own HEA.

While You Were Sleeping: Yes, again. This is a movie where the premise, on the face of it, shouldn’t work. But Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman sell it almost entirely based on the strength of their chemistry and the sweetness they find in the story, and it’s just a lovely, albeit slightly melancholy, warm-hearted movie.

Her Private Life: This one isn’t a movie, but rather a Korean TV series, and it goes full-throttle on a wild plot. Deok-Mi is an art curator (with a secret life as a fangirl for a Korean pop idol) and Ryan Gold is the haughty New York art critic who swoops in to steal her job. After a series of bonkers misunderstandings, he offers to be her fake boyfriend. Over-the-top plot shenanigans aside, Her Private Life has one of the most compassionate, mature relationships I’ve ever seen portrayed in pop culture.

Bridget Jones’ Diary: Who doesn’t love a good Pride and Prejudice retelling? And with the original Mr. Darcy to boot! Come for Colin Firth’s “I like you, just as you are” speech, and stay for the utterly ludicrous street fight between him and Hugh Grant, which is a scene I still cackle at to this day.

When Harry Met Sally: There really isn’t anything better than the speech Harry gives Sally on New Year’s Eve, is there?

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An exclusive chat with Laura Griffin to celebrate the release of LAST SEEN ALONE!

What inspired you to write your Texas Murder Files series?

I love to write suspense stories set in Texas, my home state. Texas is vast and offers a variety of interesting settings—from the eclectic city of Austin and the rolling Hill Country to the sandy shores of the Gulf Coast. We have so many different places where diverse people and cultures collide, so it provides the perfect backdrop for crime fiction. I think anytime you can add colourful details about people and places, it makes a story come to life.

Why do you love writing romantic suspense?

A good romantic thriller has two powerful engines to move the story forward: the mystery and the love story. I think that back-and-forth between romance and suspense keeps the pace moving and gives the quiet moments between action scenes much more impact.

Do you remember the book that made you first fall in love with romance fiction? What do you think makes the best kind of love story?

The first romance I fell in love with was Pride and Prejudice, which I read as a teen. In terms of modern fiction, it was probably Carolina Moon by Nora Roberts. I had always loved mysteries, but reading that book made me realize how powerful it can be when a mystery and a love story are woven together.

Do you have a personal favourite of all the novels you’ve written? Which is the book you get the most fan-mail/reader love for?

One of my favourites is Last Seen Alone because I love the heroine, Leigh Larson. A victims’ rights attorney, Leigh represents people who have been the target of online harassment and revenge porn. Leigh is so passionate about what she does, and I hope readers will like her as much as I do!

As for mail, I get a lot of messages from readers about Whisper of Warning, which won a RITA award. I think many people really like Courtney and her tumultuous relationship with Will. Courtney is impulsive and outspoken while Will is controlled and taciturn, so it’s definitely a case of opposites attract.

Can you tell us what is coming next?

Next up is Midnight Dunes, book three in the Texas Murder Files series. I’m so excited about this one! We return to the coastal town of Lost Beach, one of my favourite settings. The story features detective Owen Breda, who readers first met in Flight. Owen is under intense pressure to solve his first big case after a body is discovered on a windswept sand dune. And while he’s immersed in his investigation, he also finds himself falling for one of his main witnesses, Macey Burns.

I love to hear from readers, so please drop me a line at laura@lauragriffin.com!

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An exclusive chat with Jaci Burton, to celebrate the release of THE ENGAGEMENT ARRANGEMENT!

What inspired you to write your new Boots and Bouquets series?

I’ve wanted to write a wedding series for as long as I can remember. There’s something so utterly romantic about weddings. All the details and the pandemonium and when you have three sisters in charge of managing a wedding service along with a vineyard, it seemed like the perfect scenario for falling in love.

Why do you love writing romance?

It’s what I read - what I’ve loved to read since I was a teen. I can’t imagine ever writing anything else. Engaging in a story about people who have to overcome whatever obstacles they might face to get to that happily ever after gives me so much happiness as a reader, I always want to give the same thing to my readers.

Do you remember the book that made you first fall in love with romance fiction? What do you think makes the best kind of love story?

My first romance was The Flame and The Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss, and I was hooked right then. Though if I go back further there was romance in so many things I read. I remember reading Dark Shadows novels back in elementary school, and Barnabas Collins had some dalliances (I’m dating myself now!).

Do you have a personal favourite of all the novels you’ve written? Which is the book you get the most fan-mail/reader love for?

I don’t have a favourite because I’ve loved every book I’ve written. I can open up one of my books, start reading, and fall in love with the characters all over again.

The readers seem to love my Play-by-Play series the most. Who can blame them? ;)

Can you tell us what is coming next?

I’m currently working on the third book in my Boots and Bouquets series, and having so much fun with these characters!

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An exclusive preview of JUST THE WAY I AM, the hilarious and heartfelt new rom-com from Jo Watson!

The inside of the restaurant was very Mexican-looking and, as we walked in, I felt inundated with facts about Mexico, like:

Mexico has the world’s smallest volcano, which stands a cute forty-three feet tall.

Mexico, not Egypt, is actually home to the world’s biggest ancient pyramids.

Color TV was invented in Mexico, and so was Caesar salad.

The meteor that caused the extinction of dinosaurs crashed in Mexico.

I tried to turn the facts off as we took our seats at a small table at the back that looked out over a courtyard filled with colorful Mexican tiles and pots and the most incredible green plants.

“So, what appeals to you?” Noah pointed at the menu, which was written on a chalkboard.

“Umm, what do you recommend?”

“Well, guacamole and chips is a classic. So is the spicy bean taco.”

The waiter came up to the table, looking very festive in his Mexican-inspired clothing. He placed a big jug of water down on the table and introduced himself. I was too busy studying the blackboard to reply.

“What’s that?” I pointed to the poster on the wall next to the chalkboard.

“Oh, that’s a competition we run,” the waiter replied.

“To get a free meal?” I asked, reading it.

“Yeah, if you can eat a habanero pepper, the hottest pepper in Mexico, then you get your meal free! Not many people have done it, though.”

“Habanero peppers score 100,000 to 350,000 on the Scoville heat scale,” I said.

Both the waiter and Noah stared at me.

“Scoville is the heat scale you use to measure foods with. For example, a jalapeño only scores 2,500 to 8,000 max on the scale,” I qualified.

“I didn’t know that,” Noah said, and glanced up to the now open-mouthed waiter.

“Yeah, neither did I,” he said. “I probably should.”

“Cool! I’ll do it!” I said, without thinking too hard.

“You will?” The waiter looked taken aback and so did Noah.

“Why not? Free meal. I don’t want you to pay for everything.”

Noah shook his head. “Really, I don’t mind. Especially if you have to eat the world’s hottest peppers just to get a free meal. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Well, technically, the world’s hottest pepper is the Carolina Reaper, so at least I’m not eating that!”

“At least,” Noah said sarcastically, adding the tiniest head shake to the mix.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I assured him, and then banged my hand on the table with enthusiasm. “I’ll do it!”

“You sure?” the waiter asked again, eyeing me.

“No, she’s not sure,” Noah piped up.

“No, I am,” I said firmly.

“Cool!” The waiter eyes lit up and he shouted to the rest of the restaurant. “Habanero challenge!”

I heard a few excited whoops come from the direction of the bar and kitchen, and a few patrons also looked up.

Noah leaned across the table. “You don’t have to do this. I once got called out to a party where a bunch of teens had dared each other to eat chilis and one guy got so sick he had to be rushed to hospital.”

“Lucky for me, then, that I have a trained medical professional here.”

I hadn’t realized that eating the pepper was such a big deal, though, because soon, the waiter returned with a giant silver cloche, as well as two chefs, the manager and a few other onlookers. The manager put a piece of paper down on the table in front of me and passed me a pen.

“What’s this?”

“We need you to sign an indemnity form before eating it,” he said.

“Wait. No.” Noah covered the paper with his hands. “You don’t want to eat something that you have to sign an indemnity form for!” He sounded genuinely concerned, and for some reason, this felt good. It felt good to have him care about my wellbeing. Even thoughI didn’t feel that concerned myself.

“It’ll be fine.” I felt strangely confident. “I think I like hot food!”

“You do?”

“I do, actually!” I said happily, putting the pen to the paper, but then I hesitated. Shit! I didn’t know my name. But I wasn’t going to tell them that, they probably wouldn’t let me eat a blazing pepper with no name and no memory...

(c) Jo Watson

JUST THE WAY I AM, the hilarious and heartfelt new rom-com from Jo Watson, is out on 16th March from Headline Eternal!

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TEN RULES FOR FAKING IT: What happens when your love life becomes the talk of the town?

While there might be varying degrees of magnitude as to how much, Everly Dean firmly believed that birthdays sucked. This one, her thirtieth, more than most. Even more than her seventh when her parents decided the best time to announce their first separation was at the party right before they brought out the piñata. At least back then, there’d been a papier-mâché donkey to beat up, followed by an explosion of sugary treats.

She’d attacked that thing with such vehemence, they’d bought her one each year after for her parties until she got smart and hid the one from her twelfth birthday in the back of her closet. When her mom couldn’t find it, she’d suggested the kids try spin the bottle. Everly had quit parties right there. That didn’t break the cycle, though. At least today wasn’t quite as bad as her twenty- first, when she’d spent the night in the ER after getting tonsillitis while still dealing with bronchitis. 

Today hovered somewhere between the two; maybe an eight or nine on the suckage scale. What made her think, with her history, showing up at her boyfriend’s house with coffee and bagels before work was a good idea? When he’d said he was going to bed early last night, she’d believed him. Ha. He probably did. Just not alone.

She gripped the steering wheel of her car, knowing she needed to get on with her day, which involved leaving the car. Baby steps. She got out, leaned against the door. The nearly 10:00 a.m. sunshine warmed some of the chill out of her bones. How did she always end up here? Her muscles tightened.

How? You pick immature men who you have very little in common with, hoping their extroverted qualities cancel out your introverted ones.

“Well said, Dr. Everly.” Her words ended on a sigh. Dating wasn’t easy. Understatement of the year. If she got ready to go out without breaking into hives, she called it a win. Low expectations resulted in less- than- stellar outcomes. She seemed intent on proving that ad nauseam.

As she walked across the parking lot, humiliation heated her skin more than the sun. Focus on something else. Something good.

If this was thirty, she needed some guidelines. Rules. Just because today sucked didn’t mean she wanted to turn into a bitter old woman, collecting cats or birds or newspaper clippings to ease the ache. Rule one: No animal hoarding. Though, maybe one would be fine. Hmm . . . maybe she should get a cat. Rule two: Find the positive. No, wait, that should be rule one. Rule one: Focus on the good. Rule two: No hoarding—animal or otherwise.

(c) Jody Holford

TEN RULES FOR FAKING IT by Sophie Sullivan is out from Headline Eternal on 29th December!

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Escape with SHIPPED - the whipsmart and escapist romantic comedy that celebrates the power of second chances and the magic of new beginnings!

Anyone who steps into my one-bedroom Belltown apartment would think I’m a first-rate world traveler—if they didn’t know me. Oversized, colorful maps, framed marinescapes, and wildlife portraits are arranged in a collage above my ruby sofa. Along the opposite wall, which I’ve painted the same jewel-toned shade of reddish pink, stacks of marketing and travel books teeter on a trunk, while a Craigslist armchair squats under the window. It’s like National Geographic and Porthole Cruise magazine had a baby and that baby splatted all over my apartment.

But the truth is: except for a handful of trips to Colorado as a kid and one generic spring break in Cancún when I was nineteen, I’ve never been outside the Pacific Northwest. No, I’m not a fraud. I’m a marketing manager for a global adventure cruise line. 

So all the posters and prints? Office swag. Thanks, Seaquest Adventures, for the cheap decorating.

It’s not that I don’t want to travel. When I took this job three years ago, I had high hopes of seeing the world. Then life happened. Career ambitions. Grad school. Student loans. The vague, persistent headache that is adulting. But mostly my career. It’s hard to take time out of the office when you’re trying to climb the corporate ladder and make director before the age of thirty.

Setting my dinner and drink on my Ikea coffee table, I plop onto the sofa and yank the elastic band out of my bun. My hair tumbles over my shoulders and I shake it out, massaging the roots to ease my sore scalp. I wish I could turn in right now, just crawl into bed and clock out for the night, but my task list is burning a hole in my to-do app. I won’t be able to sleep until everything is checked off, so I might as well get it over with.

Taking a sip of wine, I pull up the list and read the first item.

Task #1: Confirm Graeme posted British Columbia social media content.

I fish my laptop out of my bag and flip it open. Noodles hops up next to me and nestles against my thigh, purring. Thirty seconds later I’m scanning Seaquest Adventures’s Twitter feed. I shove a bite of quinoa salad into my mouth and chew. I barely taste it as I scroll. Scanning tweet after tweet, I put down my fork, eyebrows furrowing.

When I reach yesterday’s tweets, rage swells inside my chest. I log on to Facebook. Same. Instagram. Same. I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Graeme.”

He didn’t do it. He said he would, but he didn’t. So freaking typical of Mr. High-and-Mighty Social Media Guru. I was right to make “confirm social media posts” the number-one item on my to-do list.

I glare at the tiny photo beside Graeme’s name, at his strong, smooth chin and short brown hair. I hate to admit it, but the first time I saw his picture, I actually thought the arrogant jerk was handsome. And when we spoke on the phone on his very first day over a year ago, oof. I nearly melted. His voice is deep and rich and husky, like a lumberjack dipped in a chocolate fountain. 

Then we started working together, and it wasn’t two weeks before Graeme The Rotten Troll showed his true colors.

(c) Angie Hockman

SHIPPED by Angie Hockman is available from Headline Eternal on 19th January!

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Jill Shalvis introduces THE SUMMER DEAL!

Dear Reader,

Seems like just last summer, I was writing to tell you all about THE LEMON SISTERS. And now this summer, I’m just as proud and excited to bring you THE SUMMER DEAL – also set in beautiful Wildstone, but with a whole new set of characters. 

Two summer camp frenemies all grown up but still … frenemies. :)

Two very sexy men, one of them a single dad. 

Life long friendships. 

Secrets. Oh so many secrets...

And because this is a Jill Shalvis book, it’s complicated, of course, as these things always are. And both heart breaking and heart warming. But sometimes the best thing in life is finding that one person who knows all your mistakes and weaknesses and still thinks you’re completely amazing, right? So dig in, I promise lots of emotion and adventure and humor to go along with the romance. And, as life tends to do, it all comes down to letting it go or living it.

I hope you enjoy THE SUMMER DEAL!

Jill x

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A tribute to Johanna Lindsey

We were so sad to hear of the passing of legendary author Johanna Lindsey at the end of 2019. We know how much pleasure she gave to millions of readers - including us - with her brilliant historical romances. We are very proud to have had the honour of being her UK publisher for her most recent books.

This week saw the release of her final novel, TEMPTATION’S DARLING, in paperback and in tribute we wanted to share a Q&A we had the pleasure of doing with Johanna, to celebrate her life and her work. We hope you enjoy it and you’ll be tempted to discover her captivating novels.

You have written so many wonderful romance novels, including your immensely beloved Malory series. Is there a novel of yours that is closest to your heart?

James Malory’s Tender Rebel, of course, but my personal favorite is Warrior’s Woman, my futuristic romance.  That one can still make me laugh when I reread it.

Did you always want to be a writer?

No, not even a little. My first book was written just for my own amusement. I had no idea it would actually keep going and going until I finally put a beginning to it and ended up with an actual book-length story.

What was the first romance you ever read?

It would have been a Gothic Romance when I was a teenager, a bit too far back to remember titles.

What do you love most about writing romance and historical romance in particular?

The history and being able to set my love stories in different eras.  And I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

Do you have the most fun creating your heroes or heroines?

I have more fun finding out what they’ll do, which is never predetermined.

Do you have a favourite hero and heroine pairing?

James and Georgina. Kudos to George for winning that particular Malory.

What is your biggest indulgence?

Since I’m apparently being cursed to diet for my entire life, pizza.

If you could take only three essentials with you to a desert island, what would they be?

Pen, paper, and a carpenter.

What is your most prized possession?

What I value the most is my family, but since they aren’t possessions, I would say my memories.

Do you have a motto for life?

Other than enjoy it? No.

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Read a tempting extract of Kelly Rimmer’s second-chance romance, UNSPOKEN!

CHAPTER ONE

Paul

I’ve been developing a single software application since I was seventeen years old. In recent years, I’ve worked with some of the best developers on earth, but it’s still my software. The sum of my life’s work is seventy-four million lines of code which, in layman’s

terms, enables people to use the internet in a safe and efficient manner. I don’t know all of that code by heart of course, but if you were to give me any portion of it, I could tell you what it does and why and how.

Code is knowable. Understandable. Infallibly rational. Opening my compiler is like wrapping myself in a warm blanket on a cold day. Code is safe and familiar, and I am completely at home and completely in control in that sphere, which is pretty much the polar opposite to my feelings about other humans. People are unfortunately illogical creatures, and today, people are ruining my day.

Well, one person specifically.

“Hello, Isabel,” I say to my almost-ex-wife. Her sudden appearance is as unfortunate as it is unexpected. Whenever we find ourselves in the same room these days, the tension is untenable, but it’s certain to be even worse today, because this room

happens to be in the very vacation home we spent most of the last year squabbling over as we negotiated the separation of our assets.

“You said that I could keep this house—” Isabel starts to say, but I really don’t like to be reminded that if the divorce was a cruel game, there’s a clear winner, and it’s not me.

That’s why I cut her off with a curt “my name is still on the title for four more days.”

Her nostrils flare. She makes a furious sound in the back of her throat, then closes her eyes and exhales shakily. Isabel is trying to keep her temper in check.

I lived with Isabel Rose Winton for four years, one month and eleven days. She likes almond milk in her coffee because she thinks it’s healthier, but she masks the taste with so much sugar, she may as well drink a soda. She sleeps curled up in a little ball, as if she’s afraid to take up space in her own bed. She resents her mother and adores her father and brothers. She loves New York with a passion, and she has an astounding ability to pluck threads from a city of 8.5 million people to weave them into a close-knit village around herself. Isabel makes friends everywhere she goes. She never forgets a name and people always remember her, too, even after meeting her just once. Everyone adores her.

Well, almost everyone. I can’t say I’m particularly fond of the woman these days.

“You’re supposed to be on retreat with your team this weekend.” Isabel flashes me a look, but it passes too quickly. I don’t have time to interpret it.

“How do you even know about my retreat?” I ask, but then I sigh and we both say at the exact same time, “Jess.”

Jessica Cohen has been my friend since college and she’s been my business partner almost as long. Isabel and Jess are friends, too, and they still see each other all the time. But Jess popping up in this conversation makes me uneasy, because she’s the reason I’m at Greenport today. And Jess does so love to meddle…

I’m distracted just thinking about this, and that’s when I make a critical error: I forget that there’s a reason I’ve been standing at a supremely uncomfortable sixty-degree angle, with my lower half hidden behind the wall which houses the stairwell, my top half leaning into the living room where Isabel is sitting. As soon as I shift position into something like a more standard posture, I see Isabel’s gaze run down my body. The scowl on her face intensifies, and mortifyingly, I feel myself blushing.

“Why are you naked?” Isabel demands.

That’s not why I’m blushing; after more than four years together, I’m certain Isabel is at least as familiar with my junk as I am. And my current state of undress is actually easily explained. I arrived here ninety-four minutes ago, immediately went for a very

long run and then took a very long shower. Everything

was fine until I reached for a towel and discovered

that Isabel’s scent was all over the soft cotton.

That made no sense, because my assistant Vanessa was supposed to arrange for the cleaning service to refresh the house before my arrival here today. I was headed downstairs to see if Vanessa had at least managed to stock the fridge with food and booze when I heard the sound of footsteps in the living room. It seemed a safe assumption that

if someone had broken into the house while I was in the shower, it wouldn’t be someone who was already well acquainted with my nether regions, so I was careful to stick only my head around the corner to investigate.

That was when I found Isabel herself, sitting proudly on the sofa as if it was her throne, firing death glares in my direction.

Which, for the record, she is definitely still doing. I might not be super skilled at reading body language, but even I know a stink eye when I see one. And this particular stink eye is focused with laserlike intent on the fourth finger of my left hand.

That is why I’m blushing, because what she can see there is not nearly as easily explained as a casual spot of midday nudity.

“Why on earth would you put your wedding ring back on now?” she asks me stiffly.

 The thing is, I never really took it off; I’d just slide it into my pocket if I knew I was going to see her. It wasn’t all that difficult to hide the fact that I’m still wearing the ring—I’ve only seen her in person ten times since she walked out of our Chelsea brownstone ten months ago. Once at our one and only attempt at marriage counseling. Once at Jess’s

legendary and, this year, somewhat awkward New Year’s Eve party. Once at the engagement party for our friends Marcus and Abby.

And seven times at mediation sessions, each one more heated than the last.

Isabel obviously noticed I wasn’t wearing the ring during those encounters, although it seems she missed the way I constantly rubbed the empty space on my finger, endlessly aware of its absence, just as I’m endlessly aware of her absence in our home in

Manhattan. I’d inevitably have felt her missing in this house today. If she wasn’t here, that is.

I’ve tried to stop wearing the ring and I find I just can’t break the habit, although if anything is going to cure me, the mortification of this moment might just do the trick.

[headlineeternal]

Read a thrilling extract of Brenda Novak’s BLIND SPOT!

Somewhere in Anchorage, Alaska—Tuesday, 3:00 p.m. AKDT

Dr. Evelyn Talbot sat trembling on a cold cement floor, blinking into pure darkness. No matter how hard she strained her eyes, she couldn’t see so much as a glimmer of light, had no idea of the dimensions of the room where she’d been tossed or who’d thrown her in it before locking and bolting the door.

Considering all the psychopaths she’d studied over the years, she was afraid to find out who it was.

She had to calm down, she told herself. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have the presence of mind, or the physical strength, to save her own life. Not only did she have to manage her fear, she had to remember every thing she’d learned as a forensic psychiatrist who’d spent the past twenty years studying serial killers. In this moment, her education was the only weapon she had.

She removed the suit jacket she was wearing over a matching beige dress and rubbed the arm she’d landed on to see if it might be broken. Whoever had grabbed her as she was getting out of the car at her own house had attacked without warning. He’d come up from behind, thrown a bag over her head, hauled her off her feet and shoved her into the back of a van. Before she could even reach up to try to remove the bag, she’d felt a knee in her

spine as her hands were jerked behind her and tied. Then the door had slammed shut and she’d heard an engine rev and tires squeal as she was launched to one side with the motion of the vehicle.

She didn’t believe her arm was broken, just bruised or sprained. Fortunately, the rope that’d been used to tie her up had been cut off as she was dumped into this room, so she had feeling again in her hands. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized that her ankle was tender, too. She must’ve rolled it in the brief scuffle. At least whoever kidnapped

her hadn’t been particularly rough when he forced her onto her stomach, so nothing had happened that would’ve injured the child she carried—yet.

But who’d abducted her? She hadn’t caught a glimpse of her attacker, but she assumed she knew him.

Her mind sifted through the dangerous men she’d studied since graduating from college, but she couldn’t even venture a guess.

It was frightening not knowing what she was up against.

It was even more frightening to acknowledge that no one would have any clue where she was—or even that she’d been taken—least of all Sergeant Benjamin Murphy,

or Amarok as the locals called him, Hilltop’s only police presence and the man she loved. It was summer in Alaska, that brief period where the days lengthened to almost twenty hours and tourists came from all over the world to enjoy the natural beauty of the last frontier.

She and Amarok—his nickname came from the Inuktitut word for “wolf” and went all the way back to junior high—had finally relaxed and begun to believe that the danger Evelyn had faced for so long, until Jasper Moore had been caught and imprisoned seven months ago, was over. They’d been so sure of it they’d begun planning their wedding. She was supposed to meet Amarok at the Moosehead today—possibly right now; she’d lost track of time—to talk about the food they’d serve. On the eighth of July, they were going to be married in a small ceremony in Alaska, where he’d been born and raised. Then, after the birth of their baby, they were going to fly to Boston, where she’d grown up, for a second reception in the fall.

Struggling to even out her breathing and slow the pounding of her heart, she hugged her knees tighter to her chest—as much as her swollen stomach would allow. If the person who’d kidnapped her was one of the psychopaths she’d worked with, she had some inkling what to expect. He was probably someone who was easily threatened. Someone who lived to dominate others. Someone who had to win no matter what the cost. Someone who enjoyed torture and/or killing.

[headlineeternal]

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[headlineeternal]

Love at First Like extract

Tonight’s date was the kind of disaster that makes people give up on finding love forever. For starters, I had eyeballed his height from his Tinder photos; I had guessed he was about six feet, maybe four inches taller than me. Instead, I arrived at the bar, Golden Years, to discover that he was approximately five-foot-four. When I ordered a whiskey, he made fun of me for being the kind of girl who orders whiskey to impress a man. (It stung because he’s half right; that’s why I first started drinking it, before I developed a taste for it on my own.) He spent the first round of drinks quizzing me: had I been to this restaurant, or that museum, or that new club that had just opened up downtown? My plans to excuse myself were dashed when he insisted the bartender bring us a second round. It turned out his alcohol tolerance is much lower than mine, and by the time our glasses were empty again, he slid off his bar stool and tottered toward the door. “Eliza, you got the bill, right?” he called over his shoulder. “That’s what the feminists always say they want!”

Now, alone at the bar, I wince at the check: sixty dollars plus tip for my hot date. I lock eyes with the bartender, a guy with a mop of dark hair wearing a gray hoodie with the sleeves scrunched up. I lean over the bar.

“Can you believe that guy?” I mutter, shaking my head. I toss him a flirty smile and cross my arms under my chest to give him a better view of my cleavage. “Hi, I’m Eliza, by the way.”

The bartender glances up from polishing a glass.

“Raj. Hi. Sorry about your date,” he says. For a split second, his dark eyes flash sympathetically. But then he shrugs. “Better luck next time,” he says, returning to his task.

So I’m stuck with the bill. I slide my credit card across the bar. While I wait for the bartender to run it, I pull my phone from my purse and begin deleting the neat row of dating apps from my home screen. Enough is enough. Muscle memory triggers a spree through my phone: I toggle through my work email, personal email, and Instagram. I’m scrolling through my feed when my heart drops.

Holden is engaged. Holden, engaged? Holden, my on-again, off-again ex whose birth name is Hayden but who goes by a J. D. Salinger reference because he thinks it makes him sound smarter. Holden, the one who used to say that monogamy isn’t natural and that he would always want the freedom to pick up and move to Borneo or Mexico City or wherever else pops into his head. Holden, the guy with a Bernie Sanders tattoo who forgot to register to vote. I repeat, Holden is engaged.

Right there, at the very top of my feed, a photo of him kneeling in front of his girlfriend, Faye, who appears as if she’s based her entire personality off a Free People catalog. A fringed, floor-length robe slides artfully off one shoulder as she claps a hand over her mouth in surprise.

“Two souls became one today,” Holden solemnly captioned the photo.

I navigate to Faye’s profile, where she’s posted not only that photo, but also a close-up of the diamond ring on her hand against a backdrop of lush green trees. Her caption: “I went hiking with the love of my life today . . . and I said YES!!!” She geotagged a misspelled version of the Appalachian Trail.

I sign the check and get the fuck out of the bar. My apartment is just across the street. It should be an easy walk—except, of course, it’s suddenly pouring. Water squelches into my shoes as I break into a sprint. My purse slaps against my side.

Holden and I were caught in flash floods like this once. We were on vacation in Nashville for our one-year anniversary (if you didn’t count the three-month break we took halfway through), and the sky just opened up. We huddled under a tiny awning while he scrolled through Yelp reviews of nearby restaurants. I had begged him to just pick a restaurant, any restaurant.

“Eliza,” he said slowly, clearly annoyed. “I can’t eat just anywhere. I’m a chef, all right?”

He was not a chef. He was a cook at a second-rate grill on Long Island during the summers and was looking for a full-time job at a restaurant in Brooklyn. My shoes were waterlogged for the rest of our trip.

Fucking Holden. Engaged. I’m not like some of my friends who, at twenty-seven, are still deeply shocked whenever people our age announce they’re getting married. I acknowledge that twentyseven is a perfectly reasonable age for Holden to propose to Faye. And fine, whatever, maybe he’s changed. It’s not exactly like we’ve been in touch often during the past four years since our final, brutal breakup. And more than anyone else I know, engagements are my bread and butter. Ever since my sister Sophie and I opened up Brooklyn Jewels last year, diamonds have become my world. I guess I just always assumed that between me and Holden, I would pair off for good first. I’m not good at losing; I’m not used to it. And his engagement means that I’ve officially lost the breakup.

[headlineeternal]

The Prenup preview

There are a few things I’ve missed about New York in the decade I’ve been away.

JFK Airport isn’t one of them.

Current situation:

I’m fresh off a six-​hour flight in coach, and thanks to my last-​minute trip, and the resulting back‑of‑the-​plane seat assignment, by the time the food/drink cart got to me, they were out of the cheese plate and white wine (horror).

I’d made do with Pringles and vodka, because there are some things a person shouldn’t attempt while sober, and a middle seat between a fussy toddler and a man who brought his own onion-​laden Tupperware was one of them.

As you can imagine, somewhere over Nebraska, I’d started fantasizing about the moment I’d get off the plane. Like, we’re talking borderline erotic daydreams about stretching my cramped legs, breathing in non-recycled air, and listening to something other than the toddler’s repeated demands for “bananananaanaa NOW!”

Now don’t get me wrong, I could respect that the toddler hadn’t yet learned just how many sugar calories were lurking in the humbly delicious banana, and he wanted it now. I could even get behind my onion-​loving neighbor’s mind-​set that airplane food was rarely worth the risk.

Still, my fantasy of not being between the two of them was very, very real.

And yet.

My fantasy had most definitely not included the tense exchange with the airline after they’d made me gate-​check my suitcase and then lost it. Nor had it included a mile-​long

taxi line once they’d finally located my suitcase on the carousel with a flight arriving from Denver.

Lastly, my fantasy hadn’t incorporated a cab driver involved in a heated cell phone fight with his mother. Although, that, at least, I can sympathize with. I’ve had a few of those over the years myself.

I know what you’re thinking:

Who is this hot mess?

Fair question. I’m Charlotte Spencer, age thirty-​one. Sagittarius, in case that’s the sort of thing you like to know about a person. Long blond hair, although not as naturally platinum as my skilled hair stylist would make you think. I’ve got blue eyes and a borderline unhealthy affection for mascara. I’m a New Yorker by birth, San Francisco resident by choice. Body type . . . eh, we’ll go with decent, mostly thanks to a rather expensive personal trainer. And no, we’re not telling her about the plane Pringles. Or the vodka.

My professional life is pretty badass, if I do say so myself. I’m founder and CEO of my own business, a social media management company called Coco (as in Chanel, obviously). I started it when I was twenty-​one and had pretty great timing on the whole social media wave. When I started, some of the biggest retailers on the planet were desperate for someone to help figure out the whole social media thing and couldn’t wait to hand over their money to a team of twenty-​somethings who got it.

Fast-​forward a decade, and if I were going to be completely crass, I’d be making cha-ching! noises right now, because I’ve always known I’d make a killer girl boss, and now, finally, my bank account agrees.

Let’s see, what else . . .

Oh, relationship status? It’s complicated. Very complicated.

But we’re getting to that.

For now, all you need to know is that I’m back in New York after a decade away and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it.

[headlineeternal]

Preview of THE WEDDING PARTY

MADDIE FOREST DIDN’T WANT TO GO TO THIS BIRTHDAY PARTY. SHE didn’t like parties in the first place— they were always too loud, there were always annoying people who she had to pretend to be nice to, and there were never enough snacks. But she especially didn’t want to go to Theo Stephens’s party. It was likely to be as boring, self- important, and pedantic as the guest of honor.

But, unfortunately, one of Theo’s best friends was her best friend, Alexa, and Alexa had asked Maddie to come with her to the party. Alexa’s brief fling with some doctor in L.A. had just ended badly, and Maddie could tell she was still upset about it. So instead of being either snug at home in a caftan watching House Hunters and eating delivery pizza, or out somewhere with Alexa, drinking wine and eating fancy pizza, she was looking for parking in one of the worst neighborhoods in San Francisco in which to find parking.

“Don’t worry, we don’t have to stay all night,” Alexa said as they circled the block. “I know you’d rather be watching HGTV, but I couldn’t skip Theo’s birthday and I wasn’t in the mood to come alone.”

Alexa must have been desperate to have her there, because she’d told Maddie if she came, she would wear whatever Maddie wanted. There were few things Maddie loved more than when she got to style conservative Alexa in something edgy and force her to branch out.

“I’ll protect you from the bros. Just give me the nod whenever you want to take off,” Maddie said.

“Not all of Theo’s friends are bros!” Alexa said. “Not even most of them. There are just a few who rub me the wrong way. His brother should be there tonight— he’s kind of a bro, but also hilarious

and Theo’s opposite. You’ll like him. Anyway, thanks for coming. I know this isn’t really your thing.”

Maddie sped up as she spotted a parking space down the street.

“You’ll pay me back for this next time I need a buddy. Just don’t make me wear a shift dress and a cardigan that time, please.”

Alexa looked down at herself as Maddie pulled into the parking spot.

“Speaking of, are you sure about this outfit? I have way too much cleavage with this dress.”

Maddie turned off the car. Too much cleavage? Please. Alexa had been corrupted by her conservative work wardrobe, and now she thought even the hint of a breast was shocking in public, especially

if she was around people who knew she was the chief of staff to the mayor. Her dress had barely any cleavage, come on.

Well. Okay. That wasn’t quite true. But it was barely any cleavage in comparison to other dresses Maddie could have put her in.

“I’m very sure. I’m a professional, remember? That dress has just the right amount of cleavage for a Saturday night out at a bar.”

She checked her makeup in her car mirror. Yes, she’d put the perfect amount of highlighter on her brown skin; just enough so she looked like she’d been at the beach earlier that day, but not so

much that she looked like C- 3PO.

She got out of the car and linked arms with Alexa.

“And stop tugging at that dress. You look fantastic. Let’s go dazzle these men.”

When they walked into the bar, Maddie surveyed the crowd.

Lots of jeans and hoodies, as she’d suspected. She shook her head and followed Alexa to the back of the bar, where the party presumably was. Oh, yep, there was Theo. The one good thing about Theo: you could always count on him to dress well. He had on well- fitting dark jeans and a soft blue button- down. He greeted Alexa with a big hug.

“You made it!”

“Happy birthday! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Alexa said as she hugged him back.

Theo pulled back from Alexa and saw Maddie, and the grin dropped from his face.

“Maddie.” He nodded at her. “Thanks for coming.”

“Theo.” She nodded back. Ugh, she guessed she had to say it.

“Happy birthday.”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at her.

“Thanks. I’m delighted you’re here.”

She and Theo both knew he was as delighted to have her here as she was to be here.

She’d first met Theo three years before, at Alexa’s birthday party. Theo had recently started as the mayor’s communications director, and when Maddie had seen both how cute he was and his excellent pin- striped shirt, she’d thought maybe there might finally be a spark between her and one of Alexa’s nerdy friends.

She could not have been more wrong.

[headlineeternal]

Kelly Rimmer on writing in two genres: how writing my new contemporary romance series differed from writing my women’s fiction novels.

If you’ve read any of my six previous novels, you probably know that I like to write emotional stories. They don’t always have the happiest of endings, although I do try to find something uplifting to land on over the last few pages! But the topics I have loved exploring over the last few years have been complex, difficult issues; things like domestic violence and forced adoption and drug addiction. My most recent book, The Things We Cannot Say, covers the joy and challenge of raising a child with autism, and tells the story of a young couple caught up in occupied Poland during World War Two! These books are incredibly research intensive and sometimes really difficult to write. I am putting my characters through hell, and some writing days for me literally are me sitting at the keyboard listening to emotional music while I type and sob. Even so, I love the way these books challenge me and make me think. I’ve learned so much about so many things as I wrote these books. My own opinions have been stretched and then changed and, although it might sound crazy to say, they forced me to empathise with people very different to me. Because of that, I feel like the way I love my fellow human beings has been deepened.

All that’s to say, I love my emotional fiction and I hope I’m lucky enough to write these kinds of books forever. But in 2016, I’d just written my book A Mother’s Confession (which is about domestic violence) and my book Before I Let You Go (which is about two sisters trying to navigate a complex legal situation after one is caught up in a drug addiction…while pregnant). I remember having coffee with a friend and she said to me something like ‘it must feel like you’ve been through both of these harrowing, life changing experiences at the same time’. Of course, fiction isn’t reality and I wasn’t quite that burnt out, but I suppose I was a little tired.

The problem is that I love writing. It’s my passion. My hobby. My favourite thing in the world to do (other than spending time with family and dogs, naturally). I felt like I needed a break from sitting at the keyboard sobbing, but I didn’t want to stop writing for any significant period of time.

I was pondering all of this when my friend shattered her ankle. It was an awful injury and she was trapped at home for months, basically immobile. I asked her what she was doing to fill her days and she told me she was reading romance novels. She was basically devouring them – dozens a week. Escaping into a world safe from the difficulties of her real life was saving her and I loved the idea that she’d found such solace in books. A few days later, I heard a podcast featuring romance novelist Kylie Scott. Kylie and I are both Australian and we happen to share our agent, and I was fascinated with her story. I bought one of her books…and by the end of the week, I’d read everything she’d ever written (except the zombie stuff. I’m terrified of zombies!).

It felt a bit like the answer to my ‘what to do now’ question had landed in my lap. A few years earlier, I had two characters pop into my mind, and I knew they didn’t belong in one of my women’s fiction stories. I decided I’d take Abby and Marcus, lifelong best friends, and try to give them a happy-ever-after. Their story absolutely poured out of me, and by the time I was halfway done, I’d already come up with ideas for their friends Paul and Isabel, and Jessica and Jake. The Start Up In the City series had been born.

It would be an understatement to say I loved writing these books. They are very different to my earlier novels – very modern, a bit steamy, and quite light-hearted. That’s not to say I don’t put these characters through hell, because sometimes I do. But these books will always end with our hero and heroine figuring it all out and finding a way to be together.

My women’s fiction novels are intended to entertain, but also to challenge and education and inspire. My contemporary romance novels will hopefully do all of that too, but they are intended to be a delicious escape from the challenges of the real world, and a reminder that in the end, love is everything we have.

UNEXPECTED is out on 28th May!