Ground Rules, my fantasy romance, has a cover! Isn't it adorable? I can't wait till Christmas!
The Wild Rose Press will release it sometime in December.
Can a bad boy angel and a dispirited mortal find a Christmas miracle together?
Alice Garner scores a great contract to illustrate a children’s book by a famous author, but lack of inspiration forces her to cancel her holiday plans. Alone on Christmas to meet her looming deadline, Alice wishes on her Christmas tree angel for help.
Luke, newly promoted to Watcher Angel, is reluctant to take the assignment. Long ago, his fiancée broke his mortal heart on Christmas Eve, and even returning to Earth on his Harley won’t dull the sting. Good thing the ground rules forbid getting involved with an assignment—Alice is tempting, but he’d rather not stay on Earth.
But Luke brings Alice more than inspiration. He reawakens her heart. Now Alice has to convince him he’s her greatest wish. With a little Christmas magic, can she convince him to break the ground rules and stay?
Rankled by her doubt, Luke heaved a sharp breath. “You don’t believe me? Do you really need the flash? The special effects?” He hadn’t yet mastered those.
With a wary look, she fingered the edge of a pillow. “You don’t look like… you look more like a rock star.”
Lifting her feet, he rested against the sofa back and laid her ankles across his lap. “You were expecting Clarence from It’s A Wonderful Life? I don’t go in for theatrics. And don’t get any ideas about jumping into a freezing river. I don’t do cold water rescues either. Or rescues in general.”
Sarcasm tainted her tone. “That’s not helpful, is it?”
“Hey, I’m here. Not willingly, rest assured. But everyone else had already been dispatched.”
Hugging the pillow, she took an unusual interest in its fabric. Looking up, triumph lit her glare. “How, exactly, did I ask?”
Heaving a sigh, he stood. “If we must go through this futile exercise…you stood by the tree.” To appease her he traveled in a whoosh through a tunnel of prismatic light to stand beside it. “Here. You said you couldn’t take one more night alone, too much work, yadda yadda yadda.”
“Save the sarcasm. It’s not very angelic.”
The label sounded preposterous, he had to admit, especially applied to him. “Have I left anything out?”
She pouted. “Yes. Your sensitivity.”
“Eons ago, babycakes.” He wouldn’t tell her his fiancée had murdered it.