HOT WINTER KISS Releases 30th November 2012
Book four in the bestselling Irish Kisses series.
Tasty treats await you.
FLAME RATING: four
GENRE: contemporary romancePUBLISHER: www.decadentpublishing.com
PAGE COUNT: 47
CONTENT: May to December / Tinsel Play / Irish Castle / Snowed In / Holiday Romance
Hot winter kisses to warm broken hearts….
Sick of tending to everyone else’s needs around the holidays, divorced barmaid and granny Sandra ferries it from London to Belfast. All she wants for Christmas is some peace with a romance story in front of a roaring fire in a remote Irish castle. What she gets is a most unexpected Christmas present from her friends at Bell’s—A 1Night Stand with a young Irishman.
Can she hack it in the real world of romance, or are life’s complications and treacherous snowstorms best left to the pages of a book?
Newly widowed Ardan Draighean owns Ballygalley castle. Once run as a hotel with his late wife, the stone building now serves as a home for him and his son. After hearing about Madame Eve’s matchmaking skills, he contacts her in search of the perfect match. Although much older than him—by fifteen years—Sandra is his ideal woman. He be damned if he’ll let a good story get in the way of his happy ever after with her.
Hot winter kisses are all this couple needs to stay warm this Christmas, but will the heat stay long after the magical season of mistletoe has finished?
AMAZON US: http://www.amazon.com/lm/R2WFCBFWNDA9ZI
MORE BUYLINKS: http://www.joannekenrick.com/p/hot-winter-kiss.html
Sweet Irish Kiss, book 1
Shamrocked, book 2
Threesome Sweetness, book 3
Born n bred Brit, JoAnne Kenrick grew up in a wee sea-side town in North Wales and has enjoyed a variety of vocations such as holistic healer, window dresser, and ghost tour guide. Having lived in Wales, England, and Scotland with her dear family, she finally escaped the dull British summers to reside in sunny Australia. After two years, they moved to the States where she endured three harsh winters in Minnesota. She now lives in North Carolina with her husband, two kids and two puddy cats. When they aren't demanding her attention, or jumping on her head, she strums away on the keys of her little laptop, creating worlds and adventures she could only ever dream of. Come across the pond and faraway....with JoAnne Kenrick! www.joannekenrick.com
Get exclusive sneak peeks at her new and upcoming releases by signing up to her quarterly newsletter here: http://tinyletter.com/joannekenrick
HOT WINTER KISS Excerpts
Sandra SNIPPET - PG/13
Digging out the treat the staff had bought her for her trip, all wrapped in hot hunks printed gift paper, she grinned. She’d promised to wait until she’d arrived at the castle before opening her surprise, but if not for the ferry delay and the bus strikes, she’d be snug by the fireplace already. By her calculations, present time had come and gone. She ripped that baby open and found a gift only good friends would think to buy her.
They’d included a card, on the front of which a very sexy Santa hung up a fishnet stocking over a cartoon fireplace.
Now you’ll be able to carry those sexy stories around with you wherever you go, without your grandkids ever discovering those smutty covers! And to ensure your holiday is romantic, we’ve stocked your reader with books from your favorite series. One is about an Irish castle owner. Wink, wink. Oh, and talking of romance, tucked into the cover is another present to ensure your Christmas is one filled with joy.
Happy holidays! Your wee family from Bell’s.
Sandra thumbed around the cover and found what looked like an invitation. She opened the envelope and cringed. A 1Night Stand date. Hell’s bells. Had to be Devlin’s idea, the cheeky sod. Her co-worker always teased her about her reading habits at work. Yup. This trickery had Devlin written all over it. Insensitive bastard.
“Sandra? I’m from Ballygalley, here ta give ya a ride ta the castle. Bloody good job the barman recalled seeing ya. I’d never have found ya tucked way back here.”
A man loomed over her, his face shadowed by a knit hat pulled down to his temples; a hint of dark ginger peeked through the wool.
He rubbed his hands together then blew on them. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?”
Christmas lametta tinsel from above reflected across his smoldering, indigo glare. His brow furrowed and a glint of impatience flickered in his eyes. He rubbed at his stubbled face, and she could have sworn she heard the gentle sweep of thick whiskers brushing his palm. Her ex used to do the same thing when he was deep in thought. A tightening in her throat stalled her.
“Not got all night.” He pulled out her chair, nearly knocking her flying.
Ardan SNIPPET PG/13
Slowing the vehicle to a crawl, he prayed his mid-renovation Alfa Romeo would hold out. He would have used the four by four, but his mother had borrowed it.
His passenger leaned against the window with her mouth wide open, her breath heavy. Damned woman slept, out like a log. How could he apologize for the terrible first impression he must have given her? Stupid digital books and noisy bar. He despised the bustle of the city, but he hadn’t meant to take his impatience out on her. Amy often said he had low tolerance levels. Guess she’d been right.
Amy, his wife, had died on Christmas Eve two years earlier. He kept her pink blanket on the back seat where she always threw it no matter which car they used. “Living out in the sticks,” she’d say, “means you have to be prepared for anything. This blanket could be the difference between staying alive or freezing to death if the car ever breaks down.” He didn’t have the heart to throw the precious keepsake out or stash it in the attic.
Reaching to the back—keeping his sight focused on the road ahead—he felt around for the cover. His digits landed on something soft and he yanked it to the front and brought it to his nose, searching for some semblance of comfort. The scent of her still wedged in the thick softness. The faint, but distinct waft of her favorite flowery perfume filled his nostrils, and his memory hurtled back to when she insisted on knitting the thing. Her little side smile, the sparkle in her violet eyes—as if it were yesterday.
His heart lay heavy. A sigh escaped him and steamed up the window.
Sandra shivered, and her knees knocked together. The poor lass was freezing. Instinct made him want to cascade his treasured knit over her, but his mourning for his dead fiancée made him pause. “Damn it, Amy wouldn’t want her ta catch her death.” He placed the blanket
on her knees and lifted it around her shoulders. Without the harsh din of Laverty’s and her crass tongue to bug him, she was stunning. Naturally pretty. Shame about her foul cockney mouth.
A swoon tease PG/13
“No phones! But I’ve got to call the family and let them know I arrived safely.” “We’re stranded here until the roads have been cleared.” “Heck, I’m meant to travel to Dunluce Castle the day after tomorrow. I’m
booked in for their Christmas Eve dinner special.” “You should make it fine. The snow never sticks around for long with us being
on the coast. But we’re not likely to get any more bookings, at least not today. It’ll just be yourself and Mr. Draighean as guests, by the looks of it.”
“You met him, I believe. He drove you home through last night’s terrible storm.”
“It’s just us? Here in this castle? With no phones? Stranded here....” What did I say, St Nick? No more fuck ups.
“Ah, here he is now.”
The back door swung open, and there he stood, holding a bird carcass by its feet. “The bird is from ya husband. Reckon ya can rustle up a dumpling stew with this for dinner tonight?” “Of course.” Laura took the dead animal. Holding it at arm’s length and scrunching up her face, she dropped it into a huge boiler pot. She then rushed to the sink to scrub her hands clean. “Eww, why can’t we get our meat from the store like everyone else?”
Sandra snorted. “Do guests usually bring their own dinner ala fresh-from-the- farm?”
“I’ve been coming here years, love. Like family, I am.” He winked at Laura who rolled her eyes and turned to finish making a brew.
“Erm, guess I kinda owe you a thank you for last night.”
“No need. Besides, I think ya kiss was thanks enough.” Chuckling, he motioned to Laura for a drink.
“Not going to let me forget about that, are you?” Sandra backed up against a kitchen cupboard and gulped.
He strutted into her personal space and nudged her chin. “Nope, and I’m only ta happy ta oblige a replay...for memories sake,” he rasped, slinking forward and pinning her against the worktop behind her.
“You cheeky beggar.” Sandra glanced over his shoulder and willed herself not to look him in the eye, for if she did, her knees would buckle and she’d slam to the ground. A nervous giggle escaped her. She placed a hand over his and squeezed at his fingers to get him to release his clasp. There was no budging him.
“I just want....” He moved closer still, his breath grazing her mouth, and she leaned toward him. She tried to stop the forward motion, but it seemed her body knew more about what she needed than her brain did.
“The sugar for me brew.” He reached around her and retrieved the bowl of caster sugar. Relief and disappointment surged through her, and the inevitable happened. Her legs gave way. She swayed a little but grabbed the worktop to save her fall.