Get Lost in Regency Magic with Rebecca Paisley

A Basket of Wishes is magical. Seriously, magic. There's this fairy, you see...
Well, I'll let you read for yourself.

From Amber House Books

 Can love’s tender spell melt the icy heart of a duke?

      Jourdian Amberville, the Duke of Heathcourte, is looking for the perfect bride. A practical and staid companion who will fit into his perfectly ordered life and never tempt him to fall in love. What he is not looking for is a violet-eyed sprite who tumbles right out of the sky to knock him off his horse.

     Jourdian doesn’t know that Splendor is an actual fairy princess seeking the human mate she is destined to love. After they are forced to wed to avert a scandal, Jourdian realizes his new wife is no ordinary duchess, but a tender-hearted temptress who talks to animals and weeps diamond teardrops. 
     The delightful chaos the mischievous beauty brings to his life threatens to make him lose not only his temper…but his heart.  
     If Jourdian is to keep Splendor, he must learn to surrender that heart to the strongest, most dangerous magic of all—the magic of true love.

In this morsel from A Basket of Wishes, Jourdian Amberville, the Duke of Heathcourte has just been unseated from his horse by a peculiar young woman who seemed to tumble right out of the sky…

     Jourdian saw a burst of silver light, then a flash of white before Magnus shied, bucked, and reared.

Unprepared for his horse’s sudden panic, Jourdian fell off the frightened stallion and toppled to the cold ground. Pain surged through his head; his thoughts swayed dizzily through his mind. He felt displaced, as if he wasn’t really there but was only watching what was happening from another place.

     He shut his eyes.

     Stars danced before him. Not unusual, considering the hard fall he’d taken. But why did he think he smelled spring wildflowers? The fresh fragrance was so real, it was almost as if he were lying amidst a bed of the fragile blossoms.

     May flowers in November? God, his fall must have been worse than he’d realized.

     He lay motionless, still watching stars twinkle. A moment later, he felt as though something pressed against his chest. It didn’t weigh much, but it was there, just like the scent of wildflowers that lingered around him.

     He opened his eyes and saw other eyes. Violet eyes, and they gazed at him with a combination of curiosity and pleasure. Full of sparkle and fringed with long, thick lashes, they were the sweetest, most mesmerizing eyes Jourdian had ever beheld, and he felt powerless to look away from them.

The owner of the pretty lavender eyes lay fully upon him, and it wasn’t at all difficult to discern her sex. The only thing she was wearing was the cloak of her copper hair, the alluring perfume of spring wildflowers…

     And stars. The tiny lights shimmered all over her.

     She looked like an angel.

     Disbelief slammed into him. “Am—am I dead?”

     She shook her head.

     An angel wouldn’t lie, Jourdian decided. He wasn’t dead. Closing his eyes again, he strove for a plausible explanation.

     Maybe he’d been knocked unconscious. Perhaps the naked, sweetly scented girl was but a dream, a figment of his senseless state. A real person wouldn’t go strolling through fields without clothes on—especially on a chilly November day. A dream would also explain her slight weight. After all, she was composed of nothing but his imagination and a myriad of silver stars.

     But he didn’t feel asleep. Indeed, he was fully aware of every sight, scent, and sound around him.

What the bloody hell was happening to him?

     He opened his eyes, looked at the girl, and again saw the sparkles swirling around her. Either she was a fantasy or a constellation had fallen from the sky into his arms. And since a fantasy was more believable, Jourdian realized then that he was definitely in the throes of a dream, the most realistic he’d ever experienced.

     “Hello,” she said.

     The fragile dream spoke, and Jourdian decided her voice was softer than the stirring of a bird’s wing. Her breath wafted across his chin, warm like a sunbeam, and her pale pink lips curved into a shy, lovely smile that wrinkled her small nose in a most enchanting manner.

     “Your scent is supremely pleasant,” she told him. “’Tis the sort one might come upon while meandering through the woods in the winter.”

     Ordinarily, Jourdian would not have returned a smile given him by a naked stranger lying on top of him, but since he was obviously out cold he felt perfectly free to participate in and enjoy his dream to the fullest. Not only did he smile back at her but he also lifted his hands from the ground and gently clasped her tiny, bare waist.

     She was warm and soft, and her scent of wildflowers flowed through his senses like petals drifting on a gentle breeze.

     “Oh,” Splendor whispered when he touched her. Strength began to trickle through her limbs. 
     Gradually the energy she’d lost during her chaotic flight across the meadow returned to her, and it was with great relief that she realized she would not be forced to shrink to fairy size to regain what little vigor she possessed.
     She shifted, lifting her head from the Trinity’s broad shoulder and trailing her fingers lightly across his temple. His pulse thumped beneath the tips of her fingers. A strong and steady beat, it reminded her anew of the power locked within his massive frame, and she understood then that the strength she felt flowing through her was not her own, but his.
     Excitement rushed through her. Her great-grandfather and father had been right! Just being close to a human bolstered a fairy’s vitality. 
     “You’ve wonderful eyes,” she told him, her gaze locked with his. “There are some who believe rain has no color, but I will tell you now that they are wrong. Rain is silver and iridescent, like the wing dust of certain butterflies and moths. When you rub those wings, the dust glistens on your fingertip. ’Tis a lovely thing to see. Your eyes are such a silver, like rain and the glistening wing dust, and I do not think staring into them for hour upon hour would be a difficult task.”
     Jourdian thought about what she’d said. No woman had ever commented on the color of his eyes before.
     “And your lips…” Splendor said. “Full and soft and slightly parted, and I have a glimpse of your teeth, which are as white as the water lilies that float in the pond where I bathe. You have no hair on your face. I am glad for that, for if you wore a beard I would nay have discovered the mole on your right cheek. ’Tis a mark I find quite dashing.”
     “You chatter,” he said, grinning.
     “Aye. I cannot help it. I have tried to help it, but there are so many, many things that occur to me that I fear I would burst if I could not somehow release them. Sometimes, however, I am as quiet as the flailing of a snowflake. Many believe me ill when I am so quiet, but I have only been ill once in my life. A cat scratched me. He was a black cat with eyes as green as poison. My skin is sensitive, and the cat scratch caused me such torment that I took to my bed and did not rise for a full fortnight. The cat would have eaten me alive, and I’m sure that there can be no death more horrible. I do not like cats. Not at all. I am fond of hens and rabbits, however, because they don’t chase me as cats do.”

     “Rabbits,” he echoed, his mind spinning with all the things she’d told him. “Cats chase you?”

     “Aye, but rabbits and hens do not.”
     He smiled again. He simply couldn’t help it. There was something so sweet, so good about her. “Sprite,” he said softly, touching one of her shimmering red curls.
     She frowned slightly. Did he already know of her Faerie origins? “Why do you call me so?”
     “Sprite? You remind me of one.”

     “You have seen sprites?”

     He smiled indulgently. “No, but I’m sure they look like you. Delicate. And shimmery, with impish smiles and whimsical ways about them.”

     He didn’t know what she was, she realized. Sprite was only a pet name. “I am supremely certain,” she said, “that you are the most beautiful creature ever to draw breath.” Her gaze caressing his face once more, she grinned at him.

     And no power on earth could have kept Jourdian from kissing that dreamy, dazzling smile. Drawn to her ethereal beauty and intrinsic goodness, he gently pressed his lips to hers and knew he had never encountered such sweetness. She tasted like warm honey—literally—as if she had just partaken of the luscious substance and it yet clung to her lips.

     “What—what is this you do?” Splendor whispered, her mouth still touching his.

     Jourdian ended the kiss and saw true bewilderment floating within her luminous eyes. Well, she was only an illusion, he reminded himself. A beautiful and innocent chimera who had no way of knowing what a kiss was.

     Far be it from him to allow her to end before he’d tutored her in the art of sensuality.

“It’s called a kiss, and we were kissing.”

     She thought about that for a moment, but could make no sense of it. “Why do you do it?”
     “You didn’t like it?”

     She looked at his lips again. “It didn’t repulse me in the slightest.”

     Her answer rankled. This was his fantasy, damn it all, and he would dream it the way he wanted, with her writhing in his arms.

     He clutched her slight shoulders and touched his lips to hers once more. A low moan escaped him as he drove his tongue into her mouth, seeking and finding more of her delectable sweetness.

     Surprised though she was by his strange actions, Splendor felt filled with such incredible strength that she was certain she could fly around the world. At the very least she felt she could remain human sized for several days without having to shrink.

     “Now how do you feel?” Jourdian asked smugly.

     “Strong! Why, I have never been this strong! ’Tis magnificent this kissing!”

     Strong? Jourdian repeated mentally. He’d rather hoped that his kiss would make her weak with desire.

     Slowly, he slid his hands up the sides of her body, then moved them over her chest. Her breasts barely filled his palms, but their size didn’t disappoint him in the least, for they were two handfuls of exquisite softness.

     And the sudden stiffening of her rosy nipples assured him he was making sensual progress. Gliding his hands downward again, he moved her hips so that they fit into the cradle of his.

     Splendor felt his loins pressing into her. Confused, fascinated, and curious, she rotated her hips over the thick, turgid feel of him. “You have become hard and hot, like sunbaked stone. And you grow in size. The way you have changed… ’Tis as if by magic.”

     “Magic?” He smiled. “No, sprite. It’s your beauty that brings about such changes.”

His statement made her forget to take her next breath.

     “You say I’m beautiful,” she whispered. “That can only mean that you have succumbed. You will now admit to your enchantment with me.”

     At her bold demand and imperious tone of voice Jourdian raised a brow. No one but the queen and a dream would dare to speak to him thus.

     “I am waiting,” Splendor said.

     He decided to indulge her. She was, after all, only a fantasy. “Very well, I am enchanted, miss,” he complied, smoothing his hands over the pale swells of her bottom. “Exceedingly so. But I hardly think that being enchanted with a dream will serve much purpose other than allowing me a small time of enjoyment before I wake up.”

     Splendor raised her head from his shoulder, her action spilling her thick hair over the side of his face. He thought her a dream? Sweet everlasting, how was she to convince him she was real?

Delicious solved the problem for her. The graceful swan descended from the sky, landed next to Jourdian’s head and, with one quick motion bestowed a stinging peck upon His Grace’s ear.

     “Bloody hell!” Jourdian shouted.

     “One cannot feel pain in a dream, can one?” Splendor asked, sliding her finger down the length of the great bird’s neck. “This is Delicious. I’m sure he gave you a love bite when he nipped at your ear, but I shall nay know for certain until I have a word with him later.”

     Jourdian’s ear stung viciously, and it came to him then that his head continued to throb, though only slightly now.

     He felt pain.

     This was not a dream! The naked girl was real, and he’d touched her breasts and derrière. He, the duke of Heathcourte, had lain in a field pawing a girl whose name he did not even know.

Meet Rebecca

Since her debut novel was published, bestselling author Rebecca Paisley has become known for creating her very own unique brand of magic on the page. She decided early in her career to write the sort of books she wanted to read. Her determination earned her a slot on the Publishers Weekly bestseller list and the Romance Writer's of America Honor Roll. She's been a RITA finalist, won the Romantic Times’ “Lifetime Achievement Award” and “Career Achievement Award,” a Reviewers’ Choice Award for “Historical Romance Fantasy” and a “Best Love and Laughter” Award.

Rebecca currently lives in North Carolina with her menagerie of beloved pets, still believes in magic, and still relies on the “pixie voices in her head” to inspire her as she works on a brand new book.

Visit Rebecca’s website http://www.rebeccapaisley.net
Join Rebecca on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/RebeccaPaisleyAuthor
Learn more about Rebecca's books at http://www.amberhousebooks.com

Follow her on Twitter: @Rebecca_Paisley

E.E.: What prompted you to write A BASKET OF WISHES?

Rebecca: I have a fascination with fantasy.  Anything magical.  I think that’s why I chose romance to write as well.  I have the precise sort of unbridled imagination needed to write A BASKET OF WISHES.  There were no rules.  No “That could never happen.  Please edit that out.”  Because everything COULD happen.  And it did.  I had more fun with WISHES than anything else I’ve ever written and am already working on another story very much like it.

E.E.: What is in your heroine’s reticule?

Rebecca: Nothing.  She’s naked for almost the whole book.  Fairies don’t wear clothes, a shocking fact that has the hero constantly trying to throw a robe or blanket on her.

E.E.: What is your favorite fairy tale?

Rebecca: Cinderella.  I think that story ribbons through every book I’ve written.  I realize women are perfectly capable of saving themselves most of the time, but I will never stop loving the thought of a powerful man rescuing a heroine who needs rescuing.  And, really, in all my books the heroine rescues the hero too. 

Also, I love the fairy tale in my own book, A BASKET OF WISHES.  Splendor is a very innocent, yet outrageous fairy with an aversion to clothes.  But her heart is the purest heart God ever gave to anyone.  (Yes, God takes care of His fairies too.)  Splendor’s hero, Jourdian, is a man who is sick to death of the wiles of the women who only want him for his fortune and the title of Duchess.  Splendor captured me from the first word of the book until THE END.  I miss her and still think about her all the time, which is why I want to write another magical book.

E.E.: What is your hero’s kryptonite? What brings him to his knees?

Rebecca: When the heroine gets her feelings hurt.  She doesn’t have to cry (like I do because I have a mini geyser inside of me), but if he sees even a tiny flash of hurt in her eyes - however fleeting - it will immediately make him want to take every smidegeon of hurt away from her.  And this is because my heroines are strong-minded.  The hero is used to her strong will.  So when he sees hurt on her face, he knows whatever hurt her is really, really bad.  Sometimes it’s the hero himself who has hurt her.  Sometimes it’s a mean secondary character.  Sometimes it’s a memory.  But whatever it is, the hero cannot rest until joy lights up her gaze once more.  And sometimes he struggles to make her hurt go away before he even likes her!

E.E.: Who is your favorite cartoon character?

Rebecca: Ummm…  Like TV cartoons?  That would probably be Frieda.  She was the girl with the naturally curly red hair in the Charlie Brown cartoons.  But while she loved her red curly hair, I hated mine.  I used to roll my hair with beer or coke cans to make it sort of straight.  I’d sleep with the cans on, which meant my head was about 4 inches off the pillow.  I’d have a raging headache in the morning, but at least my hair was kind of a little bit straight when I went to school.  But then by 2nd period (around 10 a.m.) it was all the way curly again, wild and probably laughing at my pitiful attempt to make it do what it didn’t want to do.  Now I love my hair because I don’t have to do anything to it.  No permanents, no rollers, no relaxing chemicals, nothing.  I just slap some leave-in conditioner on it, and it’s done.  Of course, it is still wild and my head looks like a red dandelion puff, but now I appreciate the hair God gave me.

E.E.: What sound do you love most?

Rebecca: When my children, Paisley and Emo, tell me they love me.  After those sweet words…  I think my kitty’s purring and my dogs wagging their tails on the floor.  I live near lots of horse pastures, and I love to hear the horses neigh and whinny, and the sounds of their hooves beating the ground when they run makes me feel so good.  Non-alive sounds I love are beach waves, rain, and the quiet nothing of snow.

E.E.: What feeds your creativity?

Rebecca: I like to watch unusual people.  I like accents and the stories people tell about most anything. Old things fascinate me.  Recently I went through a stage that had me seeking very old chimneys.  They were usually in the woods, the houses they’d once been in long gone.  I sat on or near those old chimneys.  Old things tell stories if you allow them to do so.  I saw an old chimney one time that had a very loose brick.  It was almost falling out, and I wondered why.  Because the rest of the chimney was very strong.  So why was that one precise brick about to fall out?  My imagination did a jig, and ideas started coming to me instantly.  My creativity is never satisfied with normal things.  It takes a normal thing and turns it into something quirky.  I can’t write about normal things.  I’ve tried, but just cannot do it.

E.E.: What book is up next? 

Rebecca: I have several started.  One is a contemporary that I am having a very hard time with.  I don’t think contemporary stories match with the way I think and feel.  I have also begun an historical that deals with a lot of animals and my feelings about those critters who are unwanted.  There is some magic in that story that keeps my creativity happy.  A third book has to do with a piece of metal.  We see the piece of metal in very odd places throughout the course of the book.  That, too, allows my imagination complete freedom with no fences.

Commenters can enter a drawing for a $25 Amazon gift card, awarded by Rebecca's publisher, Amber House Books. 

What is your favorite fairy tale, and why?

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E.E. Burke's Best of the West Holiday Hoopla!

What's more fun than getting a stocking full of books? Winning FREE books for the holidays from your favorite authors! 

Today, I'm hosting a Holiday Hoopla with some of the wonderful authors I've featured this past year in my Best of the West series of interviews. 

They’ll give us a peek at what they've got planned for 2015 and share some favorite memories. Plus, they're showering us with gifts!  

I can't think of a better way to celebrate, can you? Grab a hot chocolate, throw a log on the fire and let's get started with:

KAKI WARNER

Hi, Elisabeth! I’m very excited to join you for your Christmas bash. Thanks for inviting me. 

Glad you could make it! Can you share with us the best thing that happened over the past year, or your best Christmas gift?

My visit to Scotland. It was the culmination of a lifelong dream, and far exceeded my expectations. It’s a wonderful country, stunningly beautiful, steeped in history—both uplifting and tragic—and proudly inhabited by the friendliest people I’ve ever come across. They certainly know how to welcome “back” all the descendants of their countrymen-and-women who were forced by wars and clearances and economic oppression to seek prosperity elsewhere. I understand what it means to “Come home to Scotland”. It also left me with a folder full of ideas for a Scottish-set contemporary romance. We’ll see.

Best Christmas gift would be when I got my first horse. Sadly, I was in college at the time, and I think my parents finally relented because they thought it would take my mind off the exciting young man I wouldn’t shut up about. It didn’t. And now 48 years later, he’s still pretty exciting. I had to trade him in (the horse) when we married, but I kept the saddle, of course. He (my husband) still won’t wear it, though. Crab.

What project are you working on for the coming year?

I am very excited (and a little sad) about this final book in the Heartbreak Creek saga, Thomas and Pru’s story. It’s titled Home by Morning and will be released July 7^th.  This mismatched couple began as secondary characters in the first Heartbreak Creek book, and have since become the thread that weaves through all six books in the Runaway Brides and Heroes of Heartbreak Creek trilogies. I have never had characters so capture the imaginations of my readers. With each release throughout the two trilogies, I have gotten letter after letter asking when I would write Thomas and Pru’s story. It was a difficult book to write, and a difficult series to end, and I hope it was worth the wait

Here's a sneak peek:

Thomas Redstone—a former Cheyenne warrior seeking new purpose by following the ways of his white grandfather—is returning to Heartbreak Creek, Colorado when he decides to give the woman he loves one last chance to accept him into her life.

Prudence Lincoln’s beauty and education have brought her little joy. Envied by blacks for the advantages she’s had, and reviled by whites for her black blood, she’s proving herself by helping ex-slaves prepare for newfound freedom. Thomas has no place in her future, no matter how much she loves him.

He’s suffered only hardship. She was raised in privilege. Their only common ground is the spark between them that won’t die. Yet even as evil forces pull them apart again and their differences threaten to separate them forever, a special child teaches them that courage is a choice, happiness is a gift, and love will overcome any obstacle in their way.

Quote from Home by Morning:

“When I first saw you in Declan Brodie’s wagon, with your shy smile and great, wounded eyes, I knew I would love you, Prudence Lincoln. And later, when I held you in the sacred pool, and spirits trailed ribbons of light across the moonless sky, I knew I would lose you. I accept that. But know this, Eho’nehevehohtse.” Unable to keep from touching her, he framed her face with his hands. It was a moment before he could speak again. “Through all the days I have left…until the last sunset unfurls across the sky and the owl calls my name into the night…I will never forget you.”

I’m also working on a Texas historical that covers a twenty-year span, following a determined heroine from terrible loss, to betrayal, to revenge and ultimately redemption in the arms of the man who has pursued her for all those years.

That sounds like a wonderful way to wrap up your series and start something new. Can't wait until July! Thanks for joining us, and have a Merry Christmas on your mountaintop home.

UP NEXT…BECKY LOWER

Hi, E.E., thank you for inviting me to your Holiday Hoopla.

Glad you could join us. Can you share your best Christmas gift?

I am giving myself an early gift this year in a hip replacement. I want to hike again, something I haven't been able to do for a couple years. I hope by Christmas to be dancing at the foot of the Christmas tree.

What are you working on for the coming year? 

I just received a contract for my novella about the courtship of the parents of my fictitious Fitzpatrick family. It will be released this coming summer. And the 8th book in the series, The Widow's Redemption, will be out in the fall of 2015. I've also started a contemporary series and am working on book 2 right now.

Book 7 in the Cotillion Ball Series--Expressly Yours, Samantha--will be released March 2015. I'm excited about it, since it focuses on the Pony Express. It took a lot of research to get my facts straight, and I learned much more about this little slice of history than I ever thought possible.

Here's the blurb:

    Samantha Hughes needs to get away from her wicked uncle, and, following her aunt’s death, she has one day to escape. A sign in the post office offers an avenue out. She can cut her hair, pose as a man, and become Sam Hughes, a Pony Express rider.
    Valerian Fitzpatrick has defied his parents and stayed in St. Louis for the past year. He doesn't want the weight of responsibility his brothers have in the family business. All he wants to do is ride horses, and, fortunately, the Pony Express is starting up and looking for wiry young fellows.
    When Sam Hughes helps Valerian control a runaway horse, Joseph, Valerian’s brother-in-law, tells him their meeting was destiny. Over the weeks and months that follow, Sam and Val work side by side on the exciting Pony Express. Val assumes Sam is on the run from the law, and helps shield his buddy from the Pinkerton agents. He thinks this must be the destiny Joseph talked about. Although Samantha harbors feelings for Val, he has no idea she’s a woman. Until she suffers a stray gunshot wound and he has to undress her to staunch the wound.
    Friendship turns into attraction and maybe even love. When her uncle tracks her down, she is forced to run yet again. She realizes the danger she’s put Valerian into, having him try to shield her from her uncle, and leaves him behind with a note to not track her down.

    Will he be able to find her, or is he relieved to not have any responsibility again?

We’ll look forward to following your series out West. Thanks for being here today and here’s to you dancing beneath the tree on Christmas morning.

NOW, SYLVIA MCDANIEL

Hi, Elisabeth, thanks for the invite. This year we have a new addition to our home. A puppy! 

That guarantees you'll be busy! Can you share with us the best thing that happened over the past year, or your best Christmas present?

Best Christmas present? I can’t remember…probably a birthstone ring that my parents bought me. It broke the first week – yeah it wasn’t real good quality, so we took it back to the jewelry store and I picked out the one I wanted. It was more expensive and my mother kept telling me it’s too expensive. It was forty dollars, but this was 1969 and money was tight. I insisted and they bought the ring. I still have it today and I LOVE it. It’s one of my favorites. Now the ring is probably worth a couple of hundred dollars – not real fine jewelry, but I still love it.

What are you working on for the coming year? 

The third book in my series, Lipstick and Lead, will come out in February. Here's a sneak peek from Dangerous.

    Annabelle McKenzie strode down the wooden sidewalk on her way to the bank. As the family bookkeeper for their bounty hunting business, Lipstick and Lead, it was her responsibility to make certain the bank loan was paid, the farm continued to operate, and supplies were bought, while her sisters had all the fun chasing bad guys and bringing them to justice. Her sisters earned the money, and Annabelle made certain they had a home to return to.

    After their father died, they’d learned his profession out of desperation and become bounty hunters. The job paid better than being a waitress or a seamstress or even a housekeeper. And you only had to answer to the men captured and brought to justice.

Not the randy hands of the owner of a business or his employees.

    Living on a farm alone, taking care of cattle and chickens and gardening, was enough to make any person question her sanity. In the last year, Annabelle had begun to regret agreeing to take care of their land, while her sisters did the hunting.

    She longed for adventure, excitement, danger. Something more challenging than shoveling manure. Only, her sisters disagreed. Meg and Ruby wanted her to remain on the farm.

    Hogwash! It was someone else’s turn to babysit the chickens, harvest the garden, and chase the stray cows.

    This morning, she’d stopped at the sheriff’s office and picked up the latest wanted posters. Tonight, when she got home, she was going to make her sisters understand she needed to get away from the braying of cattle and the collecting of eggs.

    Slap her silly, but she was done!

    Deep in thought about how she would explain to them she craved adventure and longed for excitement, she rounded the corner to enter the bank and slammed into the hard chest muscles of a large dark-haired man. The scent of soap and campfire smoke spiraled through her straight to her center. This was a manly man and Lord knew, they were scarce in Zenith, Texas. Where had he come from?

    His hat was pulled low over his face, and he grabbed her by the arms, halting her progress. Her head fit just below his chin. She looked up at his strong, rugged jaw, and serious face.

    Long black lashes blinked over emerald eyes as he gripped her arms. “Slow down,” he said in a deep husky drawl. He kept his head down, barely looking at her. “There’s still plenty of cash left in the bank.”

    What a condescending, egotistical, handsome renegade. Not an “I’m sorry” or “Excuse me”, but rather a crass remark about the money in the bank. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

    She tilted her head and stared into those dark forest eyes. There was something about him that seemed familiar, yet she couldn’t place him. She’d seen his face. She stared up at him.         “You’re tall enough you should be able to see a woman coming.”

    He nodded, and she stared at the way his shirt fit his strong shoulders and muscled arms. And his lips were full and tempting, made for kissing.

    “You’re right, ma’am. I should see a small package like you, barreling around a blind corner. Maybe I need to replace my spectacles with a pair that can see through walls,” he said, releasing her arms.

    “Maybe you do,” she said, knowing the oversized giant was smarting off to her. He wasn’t wearing spectacles. Where had she seen him before? “What’s your name?”

    A sly smile turned up the corners of his full, luscious lips. “Why? You plan on having me arrested for running into you?”

    The man had an ornery mouth, and she was just the woman to give it right back.

“Maybe,” she said. “I know the sheriff well. It would serve you right for being belligerent and disrespectful.”

    He smiled a wickedly sly grin that sent tingles through her. “You have a really nice day.”

His voice was dripping with sweet sarcasm that made her feel like she’d eaten too many cookies. Tipping his black hat at her, he sauntered out the door.

    Like a kick from a bull, it hit her.

    He was on one of the wanted posters she had out in her saddlebags.

Sounds like fireworks are in store for those two. You'll have to come back in February and tell us more about them. Thanks for stopping by, and may your New Year be filled with puppy love.

ON TO HAWAII AND JILL MARIE LANDIS

Aloha, Elisabeth. Thank you for hosting us this season. I am grateful for everything in my life so it's hard to choose just one "best." Everyday I wake up is the BEST day. 

As far as best Christmas present, well, I've had so many wonderful Christmases it's hard to say, but the best gift ever was the 57 convertible Ford Fairlane 500 that my dad and mom surprised me with on my 16th Birthday, which is in November, so that's close, right?

That's an awesome birthday-almost-Christmas present. I'd say living on Kauai is pretty spectacular, too, as well as being great inspiration. Don't you have a new book coming out next year?

I'm working on my 2015 release, the fifth book in the Tiki Goddess Mysteries entitled...get ready for it.... Hawaii Five Uh-Oh! The madcap, mystery solving Hula Maidens outdo themselves once again while cavorting around the North Shore of Kauai, risking life, limb, and their hectic social obligations as they focus on trying to catch a ring of high end art thieves and still have time for cocktails and shaking those grass skirts.

But since this is a Christmas celebration, we must have presents. I'll be giving away three ebooks from my re-issued classic romances: Sunflower, After All, and Daydreamer.

Jill Marie, thank you for sharing your many gifts with us this year and we'll look forward to chatting with you about your new book next year. Mele Kalikimaka.

NEXT, REBECCA HAGAN LEE

Hi E.E., thanks for the opportunity to give my GLIAS friends a sneak peek of what I'm working on for 2015. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season. Happy Thanksgiving! Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!

So glad you could make it today, Rebecca.  What are you working on for this coming year? 

In December, Amber House Books is bringing out, ALWAYS A LADY, the second in the Marquess series that began with ONCE A MISTRESS, and January 2015 will see the release of EVER A PRINCESS, the final book in the trilogy.  

I'm currently working on an original manuscript set in Regency London and Scotland, called A BACHELOR STILL, the final book in my FREE FELLOWS LEAGUE series. I'm also writing the first chapters of the next BORROWED BRIDES book: THE RUNAWAY BRIDE: ISABEL'S STORY.

      

That's great news for romance readers. Can you share the best thing over the past year, or your best Christmas gift?

I have two best Christmas gifts. The first was when I was eight when I got a Baby Magic doll. I named her Musette. I still have her. She still works and she sits in a place of honor on my bedroom dresser. The second was the Christmas my husband gave me the money for my first trip to England and Scotland.

Thanks so much for joining us. I'll look forward to visiting with you again when your new books are available. Have a blessed Christmas.

LAST (NOT LEAST, I HOPE) E.E. BURKE

Best Christmas present ever? 
My second daughter, Emily, who was born a few weeks before Christmas. What a wonderful gift! Of course, all three of my daughters are the best gifts ever, but having a baby near Christmas was a special treat. Emily just got married his past October. How time flies!

What am I up to for 2015? 
I'll be publishing the next book in the series, Steam! Romance and Rails. Today I wanted to give our GLIAS readers a little teaser. This is an original scene with two characters who will appear in the next book. I'm also sharing a wonderful pie recipe handed down through my husband's family. His mother taught me how to make the BEST cherry pie ever. Her crust is amazing (once you master it).

The Belmont House, Parsons, Kansas, Christmas Day, 1873
   The tart-sweet smell wafting through the hotel lobby made Billy’s mouth water. Any other day, dessert was reserved for guests, mostly railroad travelers passing through Parsons. But this being Christmas Day, there were no trains running and few guests. So who was getting that pie?
   He tracked the tantalizing smell to the kitchen. As he crept closer to a worktable where the source of the wonderful aroma sat cooling, he kept a wary eye on the dainty woman at the sink peeling potatoes. Despite her size, Mrs. Daines was a force to be reckoned with...and she didn’t stand for stealing.
   When he’d first come to live here, he would’ve hooked the pie without a second thought, and if she’d thrown him out, would’ve said he didn’t care. He hadn’t wanted to be stuck with another family that didn’t want him.
   To his surprise, Mrs. Daines turned out to be different from the other folks he’d stayed with. Oh, she scolded him if he went astray, but she was just as quick to praise when he behaved. As time went by, he found he was less inclined to break her rules.
   Might be he could get away with pinching off a small piece of crust. She hadn’t made tasting a crime—yet.
   “Keep away from the pie, Billy.”
   He jerked to an abrupt halt, his finger and thumb a mere inch away from the golden brown crust. She hadn’t even turned around to look. It was like she had eyes in the back of her head. He peered suspiciously at the thick brown hair confined in a net.
   Before she caught him in the act, he tucked his hands beneath his arms.  “Ain’t touchin’, just sniffin’.”
   She turned with a partially peeled potato in one hand and used a paring knife to gesture. “You aren’t." 
   He got her point without the knife. “No ma’am. Told you, I ain’t touched it.”
   One of her dark eyebrows notched up. “Ain’t isn’t a word.”
   Billy puzzled over this revelation. “Then what is it?”
   “Poor grammar. You have better words to use to express yourself.”
   He huffed in disgust. “Not if you keep taking ‘em away.”
   Her lips twitched like what he'd said amused her. She didn’t smile a whole lot, laughed even less. Maybe that was because she worked so hard, running a busy hotel and caring for a crippled husband. She set the potato and knife aside and wiped her hands on her apron. “Tell you what. I’ll give you new words to replace the old ones.”
   Billy was dead certain the new ones wouldn’t be as good as the old. However, he’d try them out if for no other reason than to please the kind woman who’d taken him. Temporarily. His stays never lasted long. He was like a stray cat that folks might feed and keep around for a while, as long as he was helpful, but they didn’t care if he eventually ran away.
   She crossed to the worktable and picked up a plate that contained bits and pieces of baked crust. The spicy scent of cinnamon teased Billy’s nose. “I always end up with extra dough, and found a good use for it. You may have some.”
   He popped a flaky remnant into his mouth. Umm, sprinkled with sugar and spice. His heart sang. So did his stomach. Rather than waiting for another invitation, he scooped up the remaining pieces. “’S’good,” he mumbled around a mouthful.
   When she cocked up her eyebrow he swallowed before he spoke again. Talking while chewing wasn’t polite in front of a lady. Men weren’t so particular. “You sure are a good cook.”
   The sharpness in her gaze softened. When she dropped that starchy expression, she looked younger, almost pretty. Billy liked to think his mother might've resembled her.
   “I’m glad you’re here to enjoy my cooking,” she said.
   “You are?” Surprised delight collided with wary disbelief. He couldn’t recall anybody being glad to have him around, much less happy about feeding him.
   He started to wipe his sticky fingers on his shirt, and then remembered she didn’t approve when did that, so he licked them instead.
   Without batting an eye, she withdrew a faded dishtowel from her apron pocket and handed it to him. “I have a surprise for you."
   “Something I can eat?” Billy cut a glance at the cooling pie.
   Her brown eyes gleamed. “It’s better than pie.”
   “Nothing’s better than your cherry pie.” He was quite sure about that.
   “What about being adopted? Do you think that might be better?”
   His mouth dropped open. Had he heard right? “You…you want to keep me?”
   She nodded. “Yes, indeed.”
   Billy's heart flew up into his throat. Adopted meant he’d get to stay here until he was grown. Be part of a family. Belong. He’d never belonged to anybody. Not even his Ma had wanted him.
   Mrs. Daines started to look worried when he didn't answer. “Don’t you want to be adopted?”
   He knew he ought to say yes, but his heart remained lodged in his throat and it wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he swallowed. For as long as he could remember, he'd wanted a family...but he wasn't sure he knew how to be part of one.
   “If you’re worried about Mr. Daines, you needn’t be. I can assure you he’s amenable.”
   “A-mean…” Billy frowned in confusion. That was a word she hadn’t given him yet.
   “He’s agreed...and I hope you’ll agree." She twisted her fingers together. "It would be best Christmas present I ever received.”
   This seemed too good to be real, like a dream that would dissolve when he woke up. Before doubt and fear got the jump on him, he nodded.
   “Oh, Billy, I’m so glad…” Her reply came out on a rushed breath. She put her arms around him and gave him a big hug. 
   Slowly, he returned her embrace. At first it felt awkward, but after a moment the strangeness faded and a warm, happy feeling surrounded and filled him up. She stroked his hair with a motherly gesture Billy had seen countless women use with their sons. Tears stung behind his eyelids. He blinked hard. Twelve-year-old boys didn't cry like babies. 
   As she drew back still holding his arms, she gave him an honest-to-goodness genuine smile. “Merry Christmas...son."
   Billy swallowed, and at last his throat cleared. “Merry Christmas... Ma" 
   Ma, that was a good word. The best. He took a deep breath and caught another whiff of that heavenly smell. Didn't mothers bake treats for their boys? The biggest grin spread across his face. "Reckon we ought to celebrate with a piece of that pie?”

Grandma's Cherry Pie Recipe

Crust:
2 c. sifted flour, 1 tsp salt. Cut in 2/3 cu + 2 Tbsp shortening

Sprinkle with 4 Tbsp very cold water

Work together (just until blended); gather dough and press into ball. Refrigerate for an hour. (Can be refrigerated until you’re read to use it if you wrap it in saran wrap.

Divide for top and bottom crust. Roll out 1/8 in. thick. Brush bottom with egg white. Tips: water must be ice cold, don’t over handle the dough.
Filling:

2/4 to 1 c. sugar; 4 Tbsp four; ½ tsp cinnamon; ¼ tsp. almond extract; 1/8 t. red food coloring; three 16 oz. cans of TART cherries (in water, Oregon brand is best). ½ c. of the juice.  1 Tbsp butter. Dump cherries into pie shell. Add food coloring and almond extract. Mix other dry ingredients and sprinkle over cherries. Dot with butter. Put top crust over the mixture. Brush lightly with half and half.
Bake 400, 30 to 40 minutes.

Now, on to the presents...
I'm delighted to report our stocking is full. Many thanks to everyone who contributed!

From Kaki Warner: a paperback of her novel Where the Horses Run (second book in the Heartbreak Creek series) and an eBook of her Christmas novella, Miracle in New Hope. 

From Becky Lower: an eBook of her first in the Cotillion Ball series, The Reluctant Debutante and her latest The Duplicitous Debutante.

From Sylvia McDaniel: the eBook Deadly from her series Lipstick and Lead

From Jill Marie Landis: three eBooks of her classic romances, Sunflower, After All and Daydreamer

From Rebecca Hagan Lee: three eBooks of The Counterfeit Bride, the latest in her Borrowed Brides series.

From E.E. Burke: a complete eBook set of the series Steam! Romance and Rails, including Passion's Prize, Her Bodyguard and A Dangerous Passion.

For a chance to win, just leave a comment and enter the raffle. We'll announce winners on January 2.

What was your best Christmas present ever?

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