“Does it hurt?” Caitlin asked.
“Not yet,” Rachel admitted.
“Here we go,” Mike announced.
Rachel closed her eyes, and memories of her uncle filled her mind. Distracted, he’d slipped while working a circular saw and cut off three of his fingers. Blood spurt in every direction. She’d been seven and stood by his side when it happened.
Everyone in the room shouted as Mike pulled the black boxes apart. Rachel frowned. She didn’t feel any different.
“Rachel, are you alive?” Mia called out.
“Yes, I’m still here.”
Jake’s daughter, Taylor, pointed. “Her feet are sticking out of the other half of the box.”
“How do you know those feet are mine?” Rachel challenged, knowing her bare toes were still curled beneath her.
Jake’s daughter, Taylor, pointed. “Her feet are sticking out of the other half of the box.”
“How do you know those feet are mine?” Rachel challenged, knowing her bare toes were curled beneath her.
Caitlin laughed. “They are wearing your pink shoes.”
Rachel craned her head around to see the other half of the black box several feet away. The two flesh-colored, lifelike feet sticking out of the end wore her pink pumps.
“How ’bout we put Rachel back together?” Mike suggested.
The kids clapped and cheered.
Moving the two boxes back together, Mike motioned for her to slide out of the first wooden compartment. Then he removed the set of fake feet out of the second compartment and gave her back her pink pumps. When she’d slipped them on, he took her hand and led her in front of the audience.
“She’s back together again!” Mia exclaimed.
“Take a bow,” Mike told her. “You’ve earned it”
“I survived.” Rachel tilted her head and gave him a questioning look to remind him of his earlier words. But he didn’t ask her to marry him.
He didn’t even ask her for a date.
Disappointed, Rachel left the party and headed back to the kitchen, where Andi and Kim waited for a progress report.
“Does he like you?” Andi asked.
“Oh, yes,” Rachel said and swallowed the knot in the back of her throat. “He called me a ‘good sport.’”
Acknowledgments
* * *
I’D LIKE TO thank my editor at Avon Books, Lucia Macro, for giving me the opportunity to write this book series. It’s been a dream come true.
And I’d like to thank my critique partners Jennifer Conner, DV Berkom, Chris Karlsen, and Wanda DeGolier for their inspiration and support.
About the Author
* * *
Darlene Panzera writes sweet, fun-loving romance and is a member of the Romance Writers of America’s Greater Seattle and Peninsula chapters. Her career launched when her novella The Bet was picked by Avon Books and New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber to be published within Debbie’s own novel, Family Affair. Darlene says, “I love writing stories that help inspire people to laugh, value relationships, and pursue their dreams.”
Born and raised in New Jersey, Darlene is now a resident of the Pacific Northwest, where she lives with her husband and three children. When not writing she enjoys spending time with her family and her two horses, and loves camping, hiking, photography, and lazy days at the lake.
Join her on Facebook or at www.darlenepanzera.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Also by Darlene Panzera
The Cupcake Diaries: Recipe for Love
The Cupcake Diaries: Sweet On You
Bet You’ll Marry Me
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at five brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
STEALING HOME
A DIAMONDS AND DUGOUTS NOVEL
By Jennifer Seasons
LUCKY LIKE US
BOOK TWO: THE HUNTED SERIES
By Jennifer Ryan
STUCK ON YOU
By Cheryl Harper
THE RIGHT BRIDE
BOOK THREE: THE HUNTED SERIES
By Jennifer Ryan
LACHLAN’S BRIDE
HIGHLAND LAIRDS TRILOGY
By Kathleen Harrington
An Excerpt from
STEALING HOME
A DIAMONDS AND DUGOUTS NOVEL
by Jennifer Seasons
When Lorelei Littleton steals Mark Cutter’s good luck charm, all the pro ball player can think is how good she looked . . . and how bad she’ll pay. Thrust into a contest of wills, they’ll both discover that while revenge may be a dish best served cold, when it comes to passion, the hotter the better!
Raising his glass, Mark smiled and said, “To the rodeo. May you ride your bronc well.”
Color tinged Lorelei’s cheeks as they tapped their glasses. But her eyes remained on his while he took a long pull of smooth aged whiskey.
Then she spoke, her voice low. “I’ll make your head spin, cowboy. That I promise.”
That surprised a laugh out of him, even as heat began to pool heavy in his groin. “I’ll drink to that.” And he did. He lifted the glass and drained it, suddenly anxious to get on to the next stage. A drop of liquid shimmered on her full bottom lip, and it beckoned him. Reaching an arm out, Mark pulled her close and leaned down. With his eyes on hers, he slowly licked the drop off, his tongue teasing her pouty mouth until she released a soft moan.
Arousal coursed through him at the provocative sound. Pulling her more fully against him, Mark deepened the kiss. Her lush little body fit perfectly against him, and her lips melted under the heat of his. He slid a hand up her back and fisted the dark, thick mass of her long hair. He loved the feel of the cool, silky strands against his skin.
He wanted more.
Tugging gently, Mark encouraged her mouth to open for him. When it did, his tongue slid inside and tasted, explored the exotic flavor of her. Hunger spiked inside him, and he took the kiss deeper. Hotter. She whimpered into his mouth and dug her fingers into his hair, pulled. Her body began pushing against his, restless and searching.
Mark felt like he’d been tossed into an incinerator when he pushed a thigh between her long, shapely legs and discovered the heat there. He groaned and rubbed his thigh against her, feeling her tremble in response.
Suddenly she broke the kiss and pushed out of his arms. Her breathing was ragged, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. Confusion and desire mixed like a heady concoction in his blood, but before he could say anything, she turned and began walking toward the hallway to his bedroom.
At the entrance she stopped and beckoned to him. “Come and get me, catcher.”
So she wanted to play, did she? Hell yeah. Games were his life.
Mark toed off his shoes as he yanked his sweater over his head and tossed it on the floor. He began working the button of his fly and strode after her. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to catch her. When he entered his room, he found her by the bed. She’d turned on the bedside lamp, and the light illuminated every gorgeous inch of her curvaceous body.
He started toward her, but she shook her head. “I want you to sit on the bed.”
Mark walked to her anyway and gave her a deep, hungry kiss before he sat on the edge of the bed. He wondered what she had in store for him and felt his gut tighten in anticipation. “Are you going to put on a show for me?” God, it’d be so hot if she did.
All she said was “mmm hmm.” Then she turned her back to him. Mark let his eyes wander over her body and decided her tight, round ass in denim was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
When his gaze rose back up, he found her smiling over her shoulder at him. “Are you ready for the ride of your life, cowboy?”
Hell yes he was. “Bring it, baby. Show me what you’v
e got.”
Her smile grew sultry with unspoken promise as she reached for the hem of her t-shirt. She pulled it up leisurely while she kept eye contact with him. All he could hear was the soft sound of fabric rustling, but it fueled him—this seductively slow striptease she was giving him.
He wanted to see more of her. “Turn around.”
As she turned, she continued to pull her shirt up until she was facing him with the yellow cotton dangling loosely from her fingertips. A black, lacy bra barely covered the most voluptuous, gorgeous pair of breasts he’d ever laid eyes on. He couldn’t stop staring.
“Do you like what you see?”
Good God, yes. The woman was a goddess. He nodded, a little harder than he meant to because he almost fell forward. He was starting to tell her how sexy she was when suddenly a full-blown wave of dizziness hit him. He shook his head to clear it. What the hell?
“Is everything all right, Mark?”
The room started spinning, and he tried to stand but couldn’t. It felt like the world had been tipped sideways and his body was sliding onto the floor. He tried to stand again but fell backward onto the bed instead. He stared up at her as he tried to right himself and couldn’t.
Fonda stood there like a siren, dark hair tousled around her head, breasts barely contained—guilt plastered across her stunning face.
Before he fell unconscious on the bed, he knew. Knew it with gut certainty. He tried to tell her, but his mouth wouldn’t move. Son of a bitch.
Fonda Peters had drugged him.
An Excerpt from
LUCKY LIKE US
BOOK TWO: THE HUNTED SERIES
by Jennifer Ryan
The second installment in The Hunted Series by Jennifer Ryan . . .
1
A wisp of smoke rose from the barrel of his gun. The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Face raised to the night sky, eyes closed, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, enjoying the moment. Adrenaline coursed through his veins with a thrill that left a tingle in his skin. His heart pounded, and he felt more alive than he remembered feeling ever in his normal life.
Slowly, he lowered his head to the bloody body lying sprawled on the dirty pavement at his feet. The Silver Fox strikes again. The smile spread across his face. He loved the nickname the press had given him after the police spoke of the elusive killer who’d caused at least eight deaths—who knew how many more? He did. He remembered every one of them in minute detail.
He kicked the dead guy in the ribs. Sonofabitch almost ruined everything, but you didn’t get to be in his position by leaving the details in a partnership to chance. They’d had a deal, but the idiot had gotten greedy, making him sloppy. He’d set up a meeting for tonight with a new hit but hadn’t done the proper background investigation. His death was a direct result of his stupidity.
“You set me up with a cop!” he yelled at the corpse.
He dragged the body by the foot into the steel container, heedless of the man’s face scraping across the rough road. He dropped the guy’s leg. The loud thud echoed through the cavernous interior. He locked the door and walked through the deserted shipyard, indifferent.
Maybe he’d let his fury get the best of him, but anything, or anyone, who threatened to expose him or end his most enjoyable hobby needed to be eliminated. He had too much to lose, and he never lost.
Only one more loose end to tie up.
2
San Francisco
Thursday, 9:11 p.m.
Little devils stomped up Sam’s spine, telling him trouble was on the way. He rolled his shoulders to erase the eerie feeling, but it didn’t work, never did. He sensed something was wrong, and he’d learned to trust his instincts. They’d saved his hide more than once.
Sam and his FBI partner, Special Agent Tyler Reed, sat in their dark car watching the entrance to Ray’s Rock House. Every time someone opened the front door, the blare of music poured out into the otherwise quiet street. Sam’s contact hadn’t arrived yet, but that was what happened when you relied on the less reputable members of society.
“I’ve got a weird vibe about this,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “Watch the front and alley entrances after I go in.”
Tyler never took his eyes off the door and the people coming and going. “I’ve got your back, but I still think we need more agents on this. What’s with you lately? Ever since your brother got married and had a family, you’ve been on edge, taking one dangerous case after another.”
Sam remembered the way his brother looked at his wife and the jealousy that had bubbled up in his gut, taking him by surprise. Jenna was everything to Jack, and since they were identical twins, it was easy for Sam to put himself in Jack’s shoes. All he had to do was look at Jack, Jenna, and their two boys to see what it would be like if he found someone to share his life.
Sam had helped Jenna get rid of her abusive ex-husband, who’d kidnapped her a couple years before. Until Jack had come into her life, she’d been alone, hiding from her ex—simply existing, she’d said. Very much like him.
An Excerpt from
STUCK ON YOU
by Cheryl Harper
Love’s in the limelight when big-shot producer KT Masters accidentally picks a fight with Laura Charles, a single mother working as a showgirl waitress in a hotel bar. When he offers her the fling of a lifetime, Laura’s willing to play along . . . just so long as her heart stays out of it. If she can help it, that is!
Laura said, “Excuse me, Mr. Masters.” When he held up an impatient hand, she narrowed her eyes and turned back to the two women. “Maybe you can tell him the drinks are here? I’ve got other customers to take care of.”
The pink-haired woman held out a hand. “Sure thing. I’m Mandy, the makeup artist. This is Shane. She’ll do hair. We’ll both help with costumes and props as needed.”
As Laura shook their hands, she privately thought that might be the best arrangement. Shane’s hair was perfect, not one strand out of place. Mandy’s pink shag sort of made it look like she’d been caught in a windstorm. In a convertible. But her makeup and clothes were very cute.
KT said, “Hold on just a sec, Bob. Let me go ahead and tweet this. Gotta keep the fans interested, you know.”
Laura glanced over her bare shoulder to see KT bound down the stairs, pause, snap a picture, and then type something on his phone before shouting about taking down the electronic display in the corner. Lucky would not be happy about that. As KT waved his arms dramatically and the director nodded, Laura smiled at the two girls. “Guess I’m dismissed.”
They laughed, and Laura turned to skirt their table as she reached for the drink tray. Being unable to move, like her feathers had attached themselves to the floor, was her first clue that something had gone horribly wrong. And when KT Masters bumped into her, sending the tray skidding into the sodas she’d just delivered, she knew exactly who was responsible. She tried to whirl around to give him a piece of her mind but spun in place and then heard a loud rip just before she bumped into the table and sent two glasses crashing to the floor. She might have followed them, but KT wrapped a hand around her arm to steady her. His warm skin was a brand against her chilly flesh.
The only sound in Viva Las Vegas was the tinny plink of electricity through one million bright white bulbs. Every eye was focused on the drama taking place at the foot of the stage. Before she could really get a firm grip on the embarrassment, irritation, shock, and downright anger boiling over, Laura shouted, “You ripped off my feather!”
Even the light bulbs seemed to hold their breath at that point.
KT’s hand slid down her arm, raising goose bumps as it went, before he slammed both hands on his hips, and Laura shivered. The heat from that one hand made her wonder what it would be like to be pressed up against him. Instead of the flannel robe, she should put a KT Masters on her birthday list. She wouldn’t have to worry about being cold ever again.
“Yeah, I did you a favor. This costume has real potential”—he mot
ioned with one hand as he looked her over from collarbone to knee—“but the feathers get in the way, so . . . you’re welcome!” The frown looked all wrong on his face, like he didn’t have a lot of experience with anger or irritation, but the look in his eyes was as warm as his hand had been. When he rubbed his palms together, she thought maybe she wasn’t the only one to be surprised by the heat.
They both looked down at the bedraggled pink feather, now swimming in ice cubes and spilled soda under his left shoe. No matter how much she hated the feathers or how valid his point about their ridiculousness was, she wasn’t going to let him get away with this. He should apologize. Any decent person would.
“What are you going to do about it?” She plopped her hands on her own hips, thrust her chin out, and met his angry stare.
He straightened and flashed a grim smile before leaning down to scrape the feather up off the floor. He pinched the driest edge and held it out from his body. “Never heard ‘the customer’s always right,’ have you?”
Laura snatched the feather away. “In what way are you a customer? I only see a too-important big shot who can’t apologize.”
His opened his mouth to say . . . something, then changed his mind and pointed a finger in her face instead. “Oh, really? I bet if I went to have a little talk with the manager or Miss Willodean, they’d have a completely different take on what just happened here and who needs to apologize.”
Laura narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Oh, really? I’ll take that bet.”
An Excerpt from
THE RIGHT BRIDE
BOOK THREE: THE HUNTED SERIES
by Jennifer Ryan
The Hunted Series continues with this third installment by Jennifer Ryan . . .
Taste of Romance Page 11