Valentine’s Week Special Offer: Spotlight on St. Patrick’s and Christmas Brides

This week, enjoy four seasonal romances in the Brides of Noelle series for less than the price of a latte!


Today, we'll take a closer look at a St. Patrick's Day and a Christmas bride

NORAH by Amanda McIntyre
On sale for 99 cents this week only!

Not proud of his seedy entanglements back East, Irish Immigrant Seamus (pronounced Shamus) Malone is determined to create a new and better life in the western frontier, but despite attempts to reach the woman that captured his heart, his letters for the last four years have gone unanswered. Will a plea for help from Noelle’s new matchmaker convince his estranged wife to join him in this new world, proving his love, and that he is a changed man?

Passion (and a controlling aunt) drove Norah into marriage, but when she finds her new husband dabbling in drink and dangerous liaisons, she bid him farewell, relenting to his pipe dreams of a better life, while she remained behind living in the shame of a broken marriage. But when a dark truth is discovered she must now decide if the love she once felt is enough to survive a second chance in the New West?

Here's an excerpt:

Seamus blinked. “I’m sorry, what’d you say? What is it you’d be needing, Felice?” He looked away before God could strike him down for his thoughts. He forced them to Norah, how she’d looked at him the last night they were together. He turned his back to check the stock on the shelves and see what he and his new partner (at least in his mind) could afford to sell.

He felt a hand slide down over his trousers.

“What I need, Seamus Malone, is some of this fine, Irish—”

“Whisky, Felice,” he said, taking her hand and dropping it at her side.

She gave him a little pout, and then her face came alive in a bright smile as she batted her lashes above captivating blue eyes. Rumor was, she’d left her husband and child to find success in the theater. Given the woman’s flair for the dramatic, the fact that she’d not made it in show business puzzled the heck out of him.

“I need something special, Seamus.” Her gaze took him in, head to foot. “Something that will set my place apart from all the other places on the row.”

His gaze narrowed. “What’d you have in mind?”

She twirled a corkscrew tendril around her finger. “One of my regulars who’s back in town working the mine was talking about a special homemade whisky you once sold to the miners.”

“Is that so?” He eyed the petite woman.

“Said it was the best he’d ever drank.” She cocked her head. “I don’t suppose you’d have of that famous whisky left, would you?”

And there it was. Like a sign from above. Sure, it had some risk, but maybe the old family recipe of Norah’s grand-da should be resurrected. He’d set aside for years, not having the time, and working hard to set an example for his boss. He needed something that would raise money. Maybe a few bottles sold locally, a few glasses served slightly higher than the standard fare, let news travel, and create a demand. He mentally counted how many bottles he had tucked back in the storeroom off the kitchen.

“It’s me private whisky, Felice. An old family recipe. Top o’ the line.” He gave her a wink. “It dunna come cheap.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Neither do I, honey.”

“How much you got?” he asked, already calculating how fast he could rebuild a new still, get more bottles, maybe have a fancy new label made to showcase his fine Irish-made whisky.

Felice planted her hand on her hip and, with a sultry smile, tugged at the lace ribbon of her bodice. “More than enough for the likes of you, honey.”

Seamus reached out and grabbed her wrist. “I mean, money. How much are you willing to pay?” he asked.

Her beautiful face crumpled in a frown. He’d offended her.

Seamus raised his brows, waiting. Business was business, and few in town understood that concept better than Felice.

“Same as the liquor we’ve bought before?” She patted her hair and gave him a side glance. “Two bits.”

“Two dollars.”

Her plump little mouth dropped open. “Two dollars?”

“Per bottle. This is a well-guarded family recipe, darlin’. And don’t tell me you don’t have that kind of money, Felice. We both know who makes the most money in this town next to Hardt.”

She preened a little to that comment, then shrugged.

Seamus was not to be detoured. “Further, you’ll be signing a contract exclusive to me and the Golden Nugget to purchase any and all liquor for your business.” He was thinking by the seat of his pants.

She didn’t look convinced. “What’s in it for me?” she asked.

“I tell you what, if you send me a new client, I’ll take a few bits off your next order.”

“I should be livid with you, Seamus Malone. Why, what you propose is nothing but plain horse-thievin’. You never charged Madam Bonheur such prices.”

“Madam Bonhuer never got any of my whisky,” Seamus said with his most charming smile.

“Well, then,” she said stepping around the bar and pressing herself against him. “If I say yes, maybe together we might find a way to seal our little partnership. Maybe have a little fun?” She giggled as she slinked her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Seamus placed his hands on her shoulders, intent on pushing her away. He froze when he heard the sound of a man clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry. Is this the Golden Nugget? The stagecoach experienced a bit of trouble and needed repair, which is why we’re late. It was suggested that here is where our traveling companion might find a Mr. Seamus Malone?”

Seamus heard nothing of what the man said, his words like the drone of a beehive in the back of his brain. He stared at the trio standing in the middle of the saloon, unable to trust his eyes. “Norah? What in bloody blazes are you doing here?”

ROBYN by Jacqui Nelson
On sale for 99 cents this week only!


Who’s the perfect match for a flame-haired Welsh tomboy who loves driving wagons?

Raised by three free-spirited older brothers, Robyn Llewellyn has learned to fight for what she wants—and now she wants to transform her boss and best friend, Max Peregrine, into a lifelong partner. Determined to become the image of what a marriage-minded man wants, Robyn trades her trousers for a dress and heads to Max’s hometown of Noelle, Colorado. But changing who she is with the help of the now happily married Brides of Noelle puts her friendship with Max at risk.

Who’s the perfect match for a work-addicted Denver business owner who loves his independence?

Defying his brother and grandpa’s wishes for him to stay with them in Noelle, Max Peregrine has created his dream job—leading a highly successful branch of Peregrines’ Post and Freight while working beside Robyn, the only person who makes him smile every day. But when she leaves without a word, Max follows her to Noelle where the choices they both must face could make it impossible for them to stay together beyond Christmas day.

Here's an excerpt:


Denver, Colorado
 — December 21, 1877

“She’s gone?” Max Peregrine shouted, disbelief then panic raising his voice to a roar. “Where?”


Lined up shoulder to shoulder inside the Denver office of Peregrines’ Post and Freight, the three Llewellyn brothers studied him intently, not with surprise but curiosity. And something more. Something his careening thoughts couldn’t identify.


Brynmor, the eldest by several years, heaved a sympathetic sounding sigh. “She’s—”


“Fine,” Heddwyn interrupted, embracing his status as the swift-talking middle brother who needed to do everything quick, including driving freight wagons at breakneck speed. He shot his brothers a secretive glance. “Remember our plan. He sounds upset, but we need to know more.”


“Stuff your plans!” Max threw down his pencil and stormed around the desk where he’d been working on his ledgers. He’d throttle his answers from Robyn’s brothers if need be. “Why—did—she—leave!?”

Griffin, the youngest but also the largest, folded his arms over his barrel of a chest. “He sounds more than upset.” 


“Good.” Standing on either side of their flame-haired baby brother, Brynmor and Heddwyn spoke and nodded in unison, like matching musclebound bookends with the same auburn hair and sky-blue eyes. Except Bryn had one eye clouded white. Max had yet to learn why. 


The Llewellyns were fond of talk but notoriously unforthcoming on certain subjects. Like, at the moment, Robyn’s departure. 


“He’s regretting something,” Griffin added. 


Max froze. Leave it to Griff to pinpoint Max’s state of mind while never addressing his own. Griff’s hair color matched his sister’s, but his reputation as the Llewellyn sibling with a short fuse was his alone.


“I regret”—he unlocked his clenched jaw and tried to speak normally—“that your sister might have put herself in jeopardy.”


Heddwyn snorted. “Little Red can take care of herself.”


“Hedd’s right. The wee one is all grown-up,” Bryn proclaimed with another sigh. 


“She’s as tough as she is beautiful.” Griff’s gaze narrowed, studying him even more keenly. “Or do you believe otherwise?”


“I don’t,” Max muttered, thinking of Robyn’s lean strength, steely blue gaze, and stunning smile. A smile he’d been blessed to see every day since he moved to Denver. A smile he craved more than a miner coveted gold. A smile that had become increasingly melancholy of late. “Whatever’s wrong and wherever she’s gone, she needn’t be alone. I would’ve traveled with her.”


“You sure ’bout that?” Hedd released a low whistle as he pointed at Max’s face. “Look! Dog Bone’s turning the same shade of red as Ruddy does when he’s near to exploding.”


In Welsh, Griff meant ruddy, but that hothead remained poker-faced as he said, “We have eyes, Peaceful. No need telling us something we can plainly see.”


Max’s entire body burned with outrage. Not because of the teasing titles the Llewellyns loved to dole out, for themselves and others. In Welsh, Heddwyn meant blessed peace, a constant source of ribbing for a man who had too much energy to stand still. Max had learned to look below the surface of their name tomfoolery after Robyn revealed her brothers called him Dog Bone because he never stopped gnawing problems into submission. 


He didn’t give up. A trait all of the Llewellyns found admirable. If they assigned you a name, even one you didn’t find flattering, it meant you’d earned their respect. They didn’t waste their time on people they didn’t like. 


Robyn’s explanation along with her easy smile had ended his dislike for long conversations. But only with her. They’d talked about everything after that, argued as much as they’d agreed, but always ended up smiling. 


No topic had been taboo, or so he thought. Why hadn’t she spoken to him before she left? And how could her brothers question his resolve, especially when it came to Robyn?


Their lack of faith left him not only furious but frustrated and flummoxed. “If your sister asked, I’d have gone anywhere with her.” 


Bryn raised an eyebrow in challenge. “You said differently in the past.”

Also on sale this week: Ophelia, A Valentine's Day Bride by Kit Morgan 

and Jolie, A Valentine's Day Bride by E.E.  Burke. 

Pick up all 4 delightful romances for a sweet deal, only 99 cents each. Click the names below. 

Ophelia |Jolie | Norah |Robyn

If you missed yesterday's post about the two Valentine's Day brides mentioned above,  CLICK HERE. 

We're running a contest this week for 4 FREE eBooks from E.E. Burke, Kit Morgan, Jacqui Nelson & Amanda McIntyre, and a $20 gift card. 

Five winners will be drawn on Monday, February 18. Leave a comment to be entered (and don't forget to leave your email so we can reach you).

What was one of your favorite St. Patrick's Day or Christmas gifts, or one you'd like to receive?