Happy New Year! I’m thrilled to say that Wooing the Wedding Planner is now available for your reading pleasure wherever ebooks are sold as well as in mass market paperback through Harlequin…
No more wedding marches for her!
Wedding planner Roxie Honeycutt can make happy-ever-after come true for anyone except herself. Freshly divorced and done with love, she’s okay with watching clients walk down the aisle. What’s not okay? Sharing a charming Victorian house with accountant Byron Strong. He’s frustratingly sexy and determined to keep her confused.
Roxie thought Byron’s expertise was numbers, yet somehow he sees her for who she really is. Somehow he understands the hurt she hides behind a trademark smile. Suddenly romance is tempting again, even if it means risking another heartbreak.
I thoroughly enjoyed writing this book. It’s been so fun watching Byron and Roxie drive each other crazy and now I get to share it with you! I’m taking them both for a virtual book tour spin in February just in time for Valentine’s Day, but you can ring in the new year and be one of the first to read their story today! Just visit the BOOKS page, Harlequin, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Kobo. To add the book to your To-Be-Read pile, visit Wooing the Wedding Planner’s Goodreads page.
Because we’re fresh off fireworks and Roxie and Byron have yet to finish their celebratory champagne, we’ll leave you with an exclusive excerpt from Wooing the Wedding Planner. Cheers and enjoy!
“What was wrong with the old Roxie?”
His words stuck with her. And his kiss.
It was difficult to forget a kiss like that, especially coming from someone…well, someone like Byron. Roxie had spent more time than she’d like to admit trying not to think about the kiss – about how sweet it was. She’d forgotten kisses could be so sweet. She’d tried extra hard to forget how his lips had lingered. And how in lingering he’d awakened starbursts inside her. Starbursts of eternity.
She frowned deeply. Being touched…it had been so long since she had really been touched. The hollowness in her had turned into a resounding ache, and for a few moments she’d thought about bringing Byron’s mouth back down to hers. For a few moments, she’d craved more than his companionship. She’d craved the contact. The promise of heat that came with it.
But had she wanted it – had she wanted him – for the single reason that heat could erode loneliness? There was trust there. There was affection. For those small starbursts of eternity, there had been longing and the promise of flame. It had been too long since she’d felt the sheer, electrical pulse of new chemistry.
Why had Byron’s kiss made it seem like so long since she’d felt the flame? The passion?