Christmas in the Highlands
Suzy Henderson
Publication date: December 12th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

When Niamh Macdonald’s world crumbles, her roots call her home.

A feel-good holiday romance set in the Scottish Highlands at Christmas.

When artist Niamh Macdonald uncovers her boyfriend’s affair, she leaves her job and city life behind and flees home to the sleepy hamlet of Arden in the Scottish Highlands. Having inherited her late grandmother’s cottage, she vows to make a fresh start and pursue her dream of a career as an artist.

Love is the furthest thing on her mind until she bumps into her old friend, Alex Mackenzie, heir to Arden Castle. Sparks fly between the pair but swiftly wane when Alex inadvertently scuppers Niamh’s business plans. Niamh retreats to consider her options.

Can she make her home in Arden and can she ever forgive Alex?

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Arden

Niamh MacDonald was almost home. As she drove by fields and hedgerows, smoke rose in straggly lines from croft chimneys at the foot of the mountains. With her foot, she squeezed the brake pedal as she approached Loch Melfort, the ocean waters of which lay flat and still; lead-grey, reflecting the mountains and the blue cloudless sky. Cold, uninviting, yet the scene warmed her heart and a smile emerged on her lips for the first time since leaving Leeds.

The late autumn sunlight glared through the windscreen as she turned into the drive of her late grandmother’s cottage, Arden House. As she swung into the drive, she drove slowly over the rutted, stony tree-lined track now mostly covered with a fine carpet of grass. Above the towering pines, a buzzard glided through the infinite cloudless sky. She squinted into the light as she parked, casting a furtive glance at her gran’s old silver Range Rover that sat in the open fronted barn at the side of the house. Goodness, that wouldn’t start now. Was it even road worthy? Niamh huffed out a breath.

She clambered out of her black Honda CRV, her thighs tight, lower back aching from the long drive. She tugged her blue pinstriped shirt down and wiggled her hips as she hitched up her skinny black jeans. Thirty minutes away from Oban and she was in a remote haven surrounded by mountains, lochs, wildlife, and a castle. The local village housed one public inn, a village store and post office.

The wind puffed, shaking the boughs free of autumn’s leaves, sending them scuttling around her feet like confetti in hues of scarlet, gold, and amber. Suddenly, she felt the ache of loss and failure and sucked in a deep breath. All the dreams she’d had and clung to. She’d studied art at university, dreamt of holding extravagant exhibitions, travelling the world, painting her way, selling originals like hot cakes.

Reality was a harsh taskmaster. Working in pubs, supermarkets while painting in every spare minute and holding scrappy two-bit exhibitions in downtown art galleries which yielded minimal sales. Still, she’d tried her best and often told herself she needed to keep going. She remembered a rather crude expression of her grandmother’s, who often said, “In Churchill’s own words, keep buggering on.”

Niamh smiled, a pang nipping her heart. When she was fourteen, her parents died in a car accident, so she’d gone to live with Gran. The landscape of the Highlands inspired her over the years. The mountains and hills rose all around, their energy simmering in the air. Her heart bloomed. In Arden, she grieved, and later, fell in love for the first time.

On a grey drizzly day, descending from Glencoe, she’d slipped on loose scree and sprained her ankle. Her friend, Anna, didn’t know what to do. Niamh had insisted on getting to her feet and leaned on Anna for support. As she hobbled along, a young man emerged from the mist. Dark hair, coffee-bean eyes, with long lashes. Such a handsome face. ‘Do you need help?’ he said. Of course, Anna jumped at the offer, squealed like a little girl in delight whereas Niamh longed for the ground to swallow her whole, her cheeks burning as he gazed into her eyes. ‘I’m Alex,’ he said. ‘Here, put your arm round my shoulders.’ Then he slipped his arm around her waist before helping her down the mountain. Their friendship bloomed and matured like the fine rambling roses in Gran’s Garden. Niamh hid her growing attraction as they hung out together during school holidays and at weekends. Later, university beckoned for them both. Alex left for St Andrews and she to Leeds. They both promised they’d write, but that soon petered out.

The past eleven months had been bleak. Catching her partner, Tom, in a clinch with a younger woman at his office party a few months back was the icing on the cake. Afterwards, she discovered it wasn’t his first indiscretion. How could she have been so blind? Her bruised heart ached, but it would heal in Arden.

Author Bio:

Suzy Henderson is the author of The Beauty Shop, Madame Fiocca, and SPITFIRE, novels which are set during the turbulent times of World War Two.

Her debut novel, The Beauty Shop, was awarded the B.R.A.G. Medallion. It is based on the true story of pioneering plastic surgeon, Sir Archibald McIndoe, and the Guinea Pig Club – an exclusive club for RAF pilots and airmen who required plastic surgery as a result of their war injuries and were under the care of this enigmatic New Zealander.

Madame Fiocca is also based on a true story. This gripping adventure follows the tempestuous life of SOE heroine, Nancy Wake before and during the Second World War.

Suzy lives with her family on the edge of the Lake District, where she can be found rambling around lakes, country lanes or roaming the fells. Armed with a pen, a love of reading and a growing obsession with military and aviation history, she is often lost in the 1940s, writing historical fiction.

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Only Sometimes
Felicia Blaedel
(The Without Filter Series, #3)
Publication date: December 9th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Disagreeing from the first time they meet, Noah and Niko know exactly how to push each other’s buttons while they fight the intense pull between them. But when they’re forced to work together, they might realise that their connection runs deeper than frustration and lust.

Niko is driven and ambitious, even when it’s misconceived as cold and measured. Her latest project is her great-grandmother’s nature organisation. Niko is determined to see it thrive again and hopefully understand herself and her broken family better in the process. Getting a handle on her inconvenient feelings is a must too.

Noah has made a promise to set things right and honour his eccentric grandfather’s hard work. Even when that means taking on an active role in a small nature organisation, while hiding his true identity. He is busy enough as it is with university, work, and late nights of writing. Still, he can’t help but care about the organisation. Or the fierce woman who always seems to make his life harder.

Only Sometimes is a new adult frenemies to lovers romance set in Copenhagen, Denmark (with a getaway to a gorgeous Swedish forest). It’s book three in the Without Filter Series, but it can be read as a complete standalone. Only Sometimes is a steamy slow-burn romance, and it contains spicier content than the previous two books in the series.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Noah’s POV

When I hear Niko’s laugh, I stop so abruptly that an older man almost stumbles into me. It’s sweet and songful and a stark contrast to her usual sharp tone—but then again, I think she reserves that one just for me. My eyes zero in on her in no time, always so damned attuned to her every move. She’s standing next to the bar chatting, but I only notice her. My mouth is dry, and a drink would probably help, but I can’t seem to move.

She’s wearing a simple pale green summer dress that shows off her trained shoulders and arms. It’s almost floor-length, and her hair is up and pinned with a fresh pink flower. It makes me think of midsummer nights and dancing under the stars. Her deep red lips form a crooked smile, and then suddenly, her eyes cut to mine. For a moment, we’re simply looking at each other, her smile still lingering. I don’t realise that I’m walking before I’m standing right in front of her.

I’m pretty much invading Niko’s personal space without planning to. Our closeness screams of an intimacy that we don’t share and never will. She’s abandoned whatever conversation she was having, waiting for me to speak. I was the one to run over here like a man on a mission, but my throat is so dry and my mind is scattered.

She’s breathing lightly, like she’s afraid to make a sound, but her eyes are all challenge and fire. A touch of pink colours her cheeks, and I notice a faint dusting of freckles on her light skin. Heat rushes over me—embarrassment that I’m standing there staring like an idiot with an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her.

Niko is fucking magnetic. Her beauty is a contrast I can’t get enough of, no matter how much it pisses me off. Her body is toned and firm, likely capable of kicking my arse, but she’s still delicate and feminine, almost like something out of a fairy tale.

My hand lifts on its own accord, but I hide the motion by clenching my fists, frustrated with myself. I’m burning, but I doubt it has anything to do with the evening sunshine.

Niko straightens ever so slightly, her eyes narrowing. The challenge in them grows stronger until it overpowers every bit of softness left. It’s my fault. I probably look like a mad man. Aggressive. She must think I’m about to pick a fight with her. I briefly close my eyes and take my first full breath since I raced over here.

“Hi,” I say hoarsely as I refocus on her.

“Hi, Noah. You clean up nicely,” Niko answers, an amused smile playing on her lips.

The compliment shocks me, but maybe it was supposed to because she looks entertained. Perhaps she’s sarcastic. I want to smack my head into something hard for overthinking. I also want to compliment her, but I have no idea what to say that won’t give too much away and make working with her even harder.

I’m too slow, as Niko rolls her eyes. “Don’t look so scared. Just because I appreciate seeing you in something other than those awful, convertible hiking shorts does not mean we’re friends. You don’t have to look so torn up.” Her voice is sugary and unaffected, but her eyes look hurt as she scans the rest of the party.

It’s as if someone turned off the mute button on the whole event as the sound of chit chat, laughter and clinking glasses overwhelms me.

Author Bio:

Felicia writes quirky, heartfelt, and steamy romance with real, flawed characters.

Felicia’s books have themes about being true to yourself, and she is passionate about mental health and authenticity. As an adult, Felicia received professional confirmation that she is actually autistic.

Felicia hangs out (too much) on Instagram where she posts about her author journey, mum-life, flowers, dinosaurs, musings about autism and anxiety, book recommendations, and much more. She would love it if you came by and said hello. @feliciablaedel

Make sure to follow Felicia on Goodreads and Amazon so you don’t miss a new release.

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It’s a Wonderful Lie
Wren Michaels
(Heaven on Earth, #1)
Publication date: December 9th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

He was sent to save her life, but ended up losing his heart, memories, and clothes.

Eden Credere should be in Barbados with her new husband. Instead, it was like she married Murphy and his law was ruining her life. She’d lost her dad, her job, her best friend, and her fiancé. After drowning her sorrows with rum and eggnog on Christmas Eve, she takes a tumble in a tree lot with a Douglas Fir, sending Eden over the edge.

Theliel has watched over Eden her entire life, from her first steps to her latest, where she dove in a tree lot. He’s always been there to save her, and this time should have been no different—until it was. As her guardian angel, he’s not supposed to be seen, but one corporeal slip-up later, and he’s got a lot of explaining to do.

As Theliel works to convince Eden why the world is a much better place with her in it, he finds himself the one falling, and it’s Eden who catches his heart. In a twist of fate, Theliel must not earn his wings, but his humanity by convincing Eden they’re meant to be together.

The only problem is neither of them remember who he is when he wakes up on Christmas morning in a snowbank with no memories and no clothes. With the magic of Christmas in the air, love in their hearts, a vision of yoga pants, and maybe a little help from their “friends”, all they have to do is believe.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Swiping my tearstained face, I made my way over to the myriad of trees and tried to make a quick decision. I had to get out of there fast. I couldn’t “people” anymore today. I would either end up a blubbering mess under the blow-up lawn ornaments or in jail from high-fiving the heartless cashier right in the face who couldn’t fork over thirty cents to help a kid buy a Christmas wreath.

In my unstable mindset, I made the poor choice to go for the nine-foot Douglas fir. As I yanked the leaning tree from the fence, little did I know I held a death trap in the palm of my sticky hand. The laws of physics mocked my existence as the tree toppled over, taking my five-foot, six-inch frame with it.

It’s completely true how your life flashed before your eyes in those last seconds of mortality. Mine happened to be stuck on repeat of Grayson stuffing Suzie as I cursed his name in all six languages I spoke. If he hadn’t cheated on me, I’d be in Barbados as Mrs. Jilani, not splattered on the floor of Trees-R-Us as the jilted Eden Credere.

Instead of hitting the cold, snow-covered ground, something strong cradled the back of my head, radiating a warmth that caressed my skin and soothed what should have been my shattered bones. I would have sworn there were no customers around me as I hid my ever-blackening soul in the back forty of the tree lot. No one could have caught me that fast. Then again, one hundred pounds of Douglas fir swallowed my face, so my vantage point skewed a bit.

“Thank you, Lord,” I whispered on the breath that whooshed out of my lungs.

A melodic yet husky chuckle vibrated around me, filling me with the same warmth that held my head in some bubble of safety. Maybe I did hit the ground, and the warmth was a pool of my own blood. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities with as much rum and eggnog as I’d consumed earlier.

“Believe me, I am not the Lord.” A voice surrounded me, and heat tingled straight to my toes, as if his tone resonated just for my ears.

“Oh good, because if you were, I’d be really upset that I’m meeting him in yoga pants and no makeup.” Sometimes the things that came out of my mouth missed the sanity filter in my brain.

Another chuckle vibrated against me before it halted, followed by a sharp intake of air. “You heard that?”

With pine needles burrowing into my closed eyelids, I couldn’t be sure I was actually talking to another person and not just myself. “Heard what?”

“What I said. I didn’t mean for you to hear it.” Worry strained his words as he softened his voice.

“You didn’t exactly whisper it, and seeing as how you caught me like a ninja, you had to be nearby. Which reminds me, I still have a tree on my face. I don’t suppose you’d help get it off me? I’ll buy you a coffee or a beer or something.”

“I’m so sorry. Of course. I…I was caught off guard. Let me help you up,” he stammered.

“Well, I suppose anyone would be caught off guard while having to dive for some stranger being eaten by a tree. Unless you’re like a lumberjack and see that kind of thing all the time.” The spiked eggnog I’d had for breakfast now seemed like a really bad idea as the stupid tumbled out of my mouth in droves.

His harmonious chuckle returned and enveloped me again, like tiny ripples of pleasure bouncing off my body. I loved this man’s laugh, and I hadn’t even seen his face. In the span of thirty seconds, I’d developed some freaky fetish where all I wanted to do was have him laugh near me so I could swaddle in the warmth and happiness of his voice.

Shit, what the hell did I put in that eggnog? Was it expired?

“Hold still,” the mystery man said.

He eased me to the ground. Cold snow soaked the back of my head, my hair sucking it up like a slushy. I cursed the blasted New Jersey winters in three ancient tongues. I’d probably pay for that later, but as an archaeologist, I rarely got to use all the dead languages I studied. Now seemed like a good time.

The tree whisked away from my face, and I blinked my eyes open. The gasp that followed sucked in so much cold air, an erratic series of hiccups erupted. Another sign I was more than likely drunk—Thor hovered over me, or at least he could have passed for his twin brother. Thick blond locks of hair danced across his broad shoulders in the light breeze, framing his marble-smooth, chiseled face. The bluest eyes I’d ever seen sparkled like an ocean, and if I stared into them long enough, I was sure they’d take me to a whole other world. Those eyes looked hauntingly familiar. Where had I seen them before?

“You’ve got quite the naughty mouth, Eden,” he said, warming me with his voice and a smile that probably dropped a lot of panties. He slid his arms under my back and lifted me from the ground as if I weighed nothing. Boy, would he have a backache in the morning.

“How do you know my name? Have we met before?” I blinked again, reassuring myself I hadn’t passed out and that I was indeed alive, awake, and in Thor’s arms.

“Um, your driver’s license was on the ground. Must have fallen out when the tree landed on you.” He glanced away from my inquiring stare.

Hmm, plausible, since I had stuffed my debit card and license in my pocket instead of carrying a purse today. I only planned on getting a tree and going right back home. I dared not go anywhere else on Christmas Eve with all the crazies on the road.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and found both cards there. Did he put it back? Surely I would have felt it. But it had been a while since I’d had a man’s hand in my pants. Grayson and I stopped having sex about six months before the marriage that never happened. He wanted the wedding night to be special. Yeah, so special because he was basting the neighbor.

Wait, he said I had a naughty mouth, meaning this dude knew I cursed in a dead language. Or maybe he assumed it was cursing, since Aramaic and ancient Greek sounded a lot like my angry Italian mother.

Author Bio:

Wren hails from the frozen tundra of Wisconsin where beer and cheese are their own food groups. But a cowboy swept her off her feet and carried her to Texas, where she promptly lost all tolerance for cold and snow. Fueled by coffee, dreams, and men in kilts, Wren promises to bring you laughter, heart-fluttering romance, and action that keeps you on the edge of your seat.

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