ALL
IN FOR LOVE: A Lucky 7 Anthology
An Inn
Decent Proposal By Sharon Buchbinder
Perfect Odds By Lashanta Charles
A Ghost To Die For By Keta Diablo
Raising Kane By Kat Henry Doran
For Money Or Love By Margo Hoornstra
Take A Chance On Me By M.J. Schiller
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Romantic Suspense Anthology
Release
Date: June 1, 2017
ASIN B071V94BWM
ALL IN FOR LOVE
Six award-winning authors bring you seven *sweet
to sensual* romances filled with suspense, thrills and maybe even a ghost or
two—for less than the price of a cup of
coffee—99 cents!
Welcome
to La Bonne Chance Resort & Casino!
With
thousands of people passing through the casino’s doors on a daily basis, it’s
no surprise that a variety of lives and loves are on the line there. It’s said
that you’re more likely to lose your heart at La Bonne Chance than a hand of
poker. Whether you are the Director of Casino Operations or the guy who created
its software, a jilted bride or a black jack dealer, a past guest’s ghost or a
sous chef--when it comes to love, the stakes are high.
Thank
goodness what happens at La Bonne Chance, doesn’t always stay at La Bonne
Chance….
Ready
to roll the dice?
An Inn Decent Proposal, Sharon Buchbinder
Can an hotelier with a past and a chef with a future revive the grand dame in a
neglected old inn?
Perfect Odds, Lashanta Charles
When a jilted bride meets the man of her dreams, will she embrace the new plan,
or cling stubbornly to the old one?
A Ghost To Die For, Keta Diablo
She didn't believe in ghosts...until one showed up in her room.
Raising Kane, Kat Henry Doran
Funny how a night in jail will change a woman's outlook on life.
For Money Or Love, Margo Hoornstra
She's the one woman he can't afford to lose.
Take A Chance On Me, M.J. Schiller
Who do you count on when the chips are down?
Giveaway
To add
to the fun, we are giving away one gambling themed handmade item to ONE lucky
commenter who will be selected by a Random Number Generator.
Links
Tagline (20 words) What happens at La Bonne Chance,
doesn’t always stay at La Bonne Chance. Are you ready to roll the dice?
* * *
Excerpts and Author Fun Facts
Excerpt from An
Inn Decent Proposal by
Sharon Buchbinder
After the hotel auction, a
stunned Jim Rawlings and excited Genie King go to Sips, a local coffee house.
Overwhelmed with self-doubts verging on buyer’s remorse, Jim begins to question
his sanity. Genie, on the other hand, is bursting with enthusiasm and ideas…
“Why did you
want this place?”
“The old girl
called to me, begged me to save her.” He gave Genie a wistful smile. “Do I
sound crazy?”
“You call the
Inn ‘she,’ too?”
“Yes, she’s
like a grand old dame who’s fallen on hard times. Remember the parties? The famous
people who stayed and played there? Celebrities came to the Inn because they knew
their privacy and secrets were safe with us. If those walls could talk! Every day was new and exciting. I would
love to bring back her glory days.”
Genie leaped
up, ran around the table and hugged him. “I have the same dream. We can do
it.”
He hesitated
for a moment, then returned the gesture, his hands unable to resist lingering
on her luscious curves just a tad too long. Genie’s inviting cleavage made him
wish they were somewhere private. He could scarcely breathe and had to shake
his head to dispel naughty images of nuzzling her soft breasts. “We can do
what?”
She sat down
again, but clung to his hands. “I’ve done the research. The Inn should be in
the National Park Service Historic Registry—but it isn’t. If we can get her
added to the Registry, there are laws and standards about how we make the
rehabilitation. We can bring it up to modern codes, but have to use certain treatments—”
“I hate to
burst your bubble, but where will we get the money to do all this?” He wasn’t
sure he could afford too many more big gambles like this last one.
Her face
flushed and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled. “If we can get her added to the
Registry, we’ll qualify for special low interest loans. And for
a major tax credit. And we have a million dollars in
equity.”
“Pretty,
smart—and you say you can cook? If you can do all that, you are a genie.”
She released
his hands, pulled her shoulders back, and inadvertently gave him a better
glimpse of her bosom. Genie gave him a scalding look. “Are you challenging my cooking, Mr. Rawlings?”
Uh-oh. He never dreamed of Genie having a little temper. He couldn’t
resist tweaking her. “I’m sure you’re a solid cook.”
She stood,
almost knocking her chair over. “Solid? What the hell does that mean?
Average? Good enough to make the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner for the
family—but not good enough to cook for guests? Tell you what, Mr. Critic, you
come to my house for dinner tomorrow night.” She scribbled her address on a
business card and threw it on the table. “My food makes men go weak at the knees.”
Hypnotized by
the sway of her voluptuous ass as she stalked out of the nearly empty café, Jim
bet it wasn’t just this saucy woman’s cooking that made strong men weak.
About Sharon Buchbinder
Sharon
Buchbinder and her husband used to breed and show Egyptian Maus and Color Point
Persians (formerly called Himalayans). If you’ve ever seen the mockumentary, Best in Show, you have an idea of
what life was like 24 out of 52 weekends a year for this wild and crazy couple.
When Sharon returned to school for her PhD in 1986, she decided a doctoral
program plus a toddler plus a full time job was more than enough and they
placed all their cats in good homes—including their own.
* * *
Excerpt from Perfect Odds by Lashanta Charles
Callista is meeting her fiancé
at the airport so they can fly out to N.Y. where they're supposed to get
married, but it seems plans have been changed without her knowledge.
“James? Where are you? They’re boarding everyone now,” I say when I answer.
“I’m not coming,” he says.
I pause in making my way to the
attendant station. Surely I heard him wrong.
“Hang on a sec, let me ask them how long
we have before they can no longer wait. If you’re here already it shouldn’t be
a problem. You’ll just need to hurry. Like, sprint through the airport or maybe
get one of those guys on the carts to give you a ride somehow.”
The attendant smiles at me and holds her
hand out for my boarding pass. I move to give it to her, but hear James
speaking again.
“Cali, you’re not listening. I’m not
there. I’m not coming,” he says.
Pulling my boarding pass away from the
attendant, I force a smile and step away for privacy. “What are you talking
about, James? I’m here waiting for you.” As if he doesn’t know that. He helped
me load our luggage into the car before I left this morning. Is this some sick
joke he’s pulling right now?
“I’m not
coming, Cali,” James repeats for the third time.
I stare numbly at the ‘now boarding’
screen above the attendant. I heard him the first two times. It makes as much
sense now as it did then – none.
“I don’t understand. You can’t not come. I can see if they’ll schedule us
for a different flight. I’m sure it’s not too late. We’re getting there early
enough that one day won’t really matter,” I tell him.
He lets out an exasperated sigh. He’s annoyed? We’re two weeks away from our wedding
and I’m at the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia,
sans fiancé. I battled an hour and a half of traffic to get here and get us
both checked in two hours early, lugged all our suitcases – overweight, I might
add – only for him to call when it’s time to board the flight to New York and
tell me he’s not coming, yet, he’s the one who’s annoyed?
“I don’t know what else to say, Cali.
I’m trying to do right by you here. We both knew this wouldn’t end well.”
I splutter. Try as I might, I can no
longer get the words to flow from my mouth to have this conversation. We didn’t know anything of the sort. Do right by me? How is standing me up for our wedding
doing right by me? I didn’t ask to marry myself. I didn’t insist on us having a
short engagement or me moving in with him. I definitely didn’t count on any of
this.
About Lashanta Charles
So I don't really
have anything too witty, but I have a 6-year-old with a sharp tongue. One of
the things I always tell my kids is that mommy and daddy knows everything. So
one day I'm taking my daughter to the store to buy toys with her birthday
money. This is how the conversation went:
Her: So, who gave
me this birthday money?
Me: Poppy
(Grandad)
Her: Oh, I really
miss Poppy. I want to go see him.
Me: Well, you
have to wait until this summer, when you're out of school.
Her: Why?
Me: Because you
have to learn things in school and if you miss a day, you'll miss what you need
to learn and then you won't know everything.
Her: Ohhhhh, you
mean like you and daddy don't really know everything even though you say you
do?
Me: *speechless*
* * *
Excerpt from A Ghost To Die For by Keta Diablo
Rooney encounters a stranger in her hotel room
and soon finds out he's a ghost!
Rooney looked at the man through
narrowed eyes. "You weren't at the séance on stage, so what then, were you
in the audience?"
No, I was on stage, but kind of hanging around in the background. He put his hands in the air, palms out. I swear, I won't hurt you, but I been lurking around this hotel for two
months now wondering how I was going to get out of this mess. Then you arrived
at La Bonne Chance with your sister, you know, the fabulous Fontaine sisters,
the crème-dela-crème of psychics, and my prayers were answered.
She snorted. "I'm not a
psychic, mister, so if that's your angle, you picked the wrong sister."
No, I picked the right sister. Now if only I can get her to hear me
out.
"I don't want to hear you out;
I want you to get the hell out of my hotel room. Like now!" When he didn't
comply, she moved the can of hair spray until it loomed inches from his face.
"I'm going to count to three. If you aren't out of that chair and out that
door by then, I'm giving you a face full of hair spray."
Go ahead. Maybe then you'll realize what I am and listen.
"You asked for it." She
held the nozzle down and let him have it right between the eyes. He didn't move
a muscle, didn't react at all. Much to her dismay, she didn't even have the
satisfaction of seeing him blink. The drizzle and aroma of hair spray hung
heavy in the air but didn't seem to bother him nearly as much as it did her.
Through a series of chokes and chortles she managed to eke out the words.
"What are you, some kind of weirdo with inhuman defenses?"
A ghost.
"What!"
You asked me what I am and I'm telling you. I'm a ghost.
Eyes wide, voice in shriek mode, she
fell onto the edge of the bed and glared at him. "You can't be a ghost. I
don't believe in ghosts!"
Understandable. Neither did I until I became one.
She reached out and touched his
arm, more to prove him wrong than anything else. A startled scream escaped when
her fingers danced through vacant air. Coming to her feet, she paced a small
area beside the bed. "This can't be happening. It isn't possible."
That's exactly what I said when they pushed me off the balcony and I
wound up in this state.
She resumed her prior position on
the bed. "Someone pushed you off a balcony?"
More like tossed me over, right here at the La Bonne Chance Casino,
seventh floor, two months ago.
"Two months ago? You've been
wandering around here for two months?"
He released an exasperated sigh. I thought you might be a good listener, but
I've said that twice now. Two months ago I died, and yes I've been hanging out
here, twiddling my thumbs and trying to figure out what to do next.
"You can't leave the
hotel?"
Not yet, anyway. I'm working on it, but you have no idea how much
energy it takes just to project my voice. No one else has been able to hear me,
or see me, until you, Rooney, and now I seem to be experiencing a renewed sense
of energy.
"Stop saying my name as if
we're besties."
Well, after that séance and
the conversation you had with Violet about your little sister, Vanessa, I kind
of feel as if we are.
About Keta Diablo
Keta once dressed
up as old man on Halloween and picked up her 9th grader at school in costume!
Needless to say, he wasn't pleased. In fact, he refused to get in the car. She
followed him out of the parking lot and down the street for two blocks before
he'd even look at her. Yes, he finally got in, but didn't appreciate her
humor...at all. Update: He's in college now and says the "old man"
incident is now one of his fondest childhood memories.
* * *
Excerpt from Raising Kane by Kat Henry Doran
Lt. Kieran Pollack signs in to work and comes up against the
woman of his dreams: Mallory Kane, ace investigative reporter. Unfortunately
she's just spent the night in jail and is in no mood to speak with
anyone--particularly a cop.
“Anything I
need to know before I head upstairs, Sarge?”
“It’s all
there.” The night duty man passed him the report from the previous platoon.
“The usual pugs, thugs and mugs threw themselves a circus down at The Dirty
Dawg last night.”
Kieran scrawled
his name on the sign-in roster. “Again? Somebody ought to look into closing
down that pest hole.”
“I bet the
Mayor is thinkin’ along those same lines. With the Chief on vacation and the
Deputy Chief at a meeting out of town, as PIO it’s your job to handle the
fallout. Lucky man.”
Fall-out? “What
are you talking about?”
A woman with
mile-long legs and hair the color of roasting chestnuts strode past the desk,
heading in the direction of the revolving door.
“Overnight
guest,” the sergeant advised under his breath. “TV Reporter. I was you, I’d
head that one off at the pass.”
In addition to
a talent for scoping out shapely legs, Kieran possessed the good sense to act
on sound advice. After shooting both cuffs and ensuring his tie hung straight,
he glided up beside the woman. “Excuse me, miss?”
She stopped,
threw back her shoulders, then turned. “Yes?”
In the shimmer
of an early morning sun he saw a nasty bruise blossoming across one cheekbone
and winced. “Does that hurt as bad as it looks?”
“Who are you
and what do you want?”
She possessed a
voice designed to make a man think of hot nights and cool sheets. Extending a
hand, he launched into his usual PIO song and dance. “Kieran Pollack, Public
Information Officer for the Victory PD. What’s a pretty thing such as yourself
doing in a joint like this?”
The screech of
tires on the street outside obscured any response she might have made. Panel
vans bearing the logos of the local TV affiliates disgorged reporters and
camera-persons who wasted no time in storming the doors to the Public Safety
Building.
Kieran
attempted to head her off at the pass with a fast two-step and a faster line of
bull. “Look, can you help out this hard working public servant?”
She raised one
hand to shield her injured cheek. “Not without my attorney.”
“Aw, now. Why
do you want to go and do something like that? We don’t need no lousy lawyers to
make things right, do we?”
“I believe it’s
somewhere in the Bill of Rights,” she murmured, eluding his out-stretched hand
with a fast step to the left.
“Please. Hear
me out,” he pressed, one eye on the camera-persons now jockeying for position
just inside the doors. “I can make this all disappear―if we could go someplace
to talk. It would be to your advantage, I promise.”
A spark flared
in those dull, pain-filled eyes. “I’d sooner walk barefoot through a nest of
pit vipers than spend one second alone with any member of the Victory Police
Department.”
About Kat Doran
There was the
time I played private duty nurse for my uncle, after he underwent a resection
of an aortic aneurysm. Very scary for a number of different reasons. It became
my job to ensure Father Joe got sufficient rest which boiled down to playing
traffic cop and time-keeper on visitors. On one afternoon, I could see Joe was
fatigued and needed a nap. As I rounded up the crowd to send them out the door,
one smirked at me. "Who's Nurse Ratched, Joe?" he asked.
I said, "Who
are you, the Pope?"
He said,
"Close to it, honey. I'm the Bishop."
Aw geez.
* * *
Excerpt from For Money or Love by Margo Hoornstra
Lindsey Carr's two best friends, Rita and Anne, discuss
exactly why she and her mega-millionaire boss, Daniel Montgomery, are no longer
romantically involved.
Shooting Lindsey a quickly manufactured smile, she turned her full attention to
the eye candy. “No doubt about it. Those are bedroom eyes.” She trailed her
fingertips over Daniel’s forehead, down his cheek and onto the outline of his
lips.
Lindsey brought
both hands to her lap under the table, locked her fingers together and
squeezed. It was a four-page spread in Today’s Tech magazine. The
picture of Daniel’s forehead, cheek and lips.
An important
distinction to remember. If that had been her boss in the flesh he’d be
blushing beet red from all the fluttery female attention. Daniel Montgomery was
different than most other powerful millionaires. Those she’d heard about
anyway. Certainly drop dead gorgeous as had been established. With a mile wide
shy streak not many people knew about or even suspected. Hands still clasped,
Lindsey leaned away from the display.
Anne slid her
glass aside and moved up to fill the void, her critical gaze focused on
Daniel’s picture. “I’m never sure what the term ‘bedroom eyes’ means.”
“Not droopy or
sleepy.” Rita didn’t bother to look up. “Sexy. There’s no other word for it.
Well, maybe erotic would fit. I must say, Lindsey. It amazes me you can work
side by side with this man day in and day out and manage to keep your hands to
yourself.”
“It’s easy.”
She murmured the blatant lie. Very easy. He does the same and then
some.
“You and this
marvelous specimen.” Rita waited until Lindsey glanced up then met her eye to
eye. “As a couple, are old news, right? That’s what you’ve said.”
“Absolutely.”
Purposely lowering her voice, she mentally counted to five before she spoke
again. “We did the dating thing for a while.” She shrugged one shoulder for
effect. “It didn’t work for us.”
Lindsey took a
small gulp of wine to avoid having to share more, and was relieved when Rita
and Anne went back to hunk browsing. Trying her best to ignore the fact it was
Daniel’s hunk they browsed, she gave up to give into her own thoughts about the
man. Bowing to a mutual attraction that became evident soon after they
met, Lindsey and Daniel dated for a time. A very short time, consisting of a
few casual dinners, a couple of movies. That one night in….
“Why didn’t it
work for you exactly?”
Unsure who
asked the question, Lindsey looked up then blinked. “It just didn’t.” She
slowly let out a breath. “I don’t think of Daniel Montgomery in that
way.” Much anymore.
“Then why are
you blushing?” Her sharp gaze unrelenting, Rita leaned considered her from
across the table. “Care to share?”
I’ll have no
peace around here until I do. Taking
her time to indulge in another sip, she completed a long, slow swallow then
licked her lips.
About Margo Hoornstra
Becoming a coffee connoisseur
wasn’t an instant fall head over heels event for Margo Hoornstra. Initial cups
were loaded with milk and sugar. When the children arrived, two AM feedings
coupled with six AM risings for work necessitated more indispensable caffeine.
Flavored, iced, lattes and such, a true coffee aficionado, she covets them all.
* * *
Excerpt
from Take A Chance On Me by M.J. Schiller
After chasing
leads at the station, Cash returns to his home where his partner, Ian, is
supposed to be watching over the murder witness, Harper...
Cash slowly pulled his keys out of
the door, examining the pair. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Right, Ian?”
Ian nodded loosely. “Nothing. Like
she said.”
Cash closed the door and set his
keys on the end table. “Uh-huh.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “What’s
behind your back?”
Ian shot a glance at Harper.
“You’re on your own.” He ducked into the kitchen.
“Coward,” she mumbled out of the
side of her mouth.
Cash moved forward, and she took a
step back. He lunged, catching her, and causing her to scream. He wrestled the
bottle from her hand and brought it out where he could see it. Ian ran in, his
concerned gaze darting to Harper. He stopped and put a hand over his heart,
leaning against the side of the archway between the two rooms.
“Hmm.” Cash took a step back,
tilting the bottle. He fought the smile tugging on his lips. “Is this my
Jäger?”
Ian and Harper looked at each other
with open mouths, but neither spoke.
Cash ambled over to the coffee
table and clinked the bottle against the shot glasses as he set it down.
“So—and correct me if I’m wrong—it looks like, while I’ve been out working my
ass off, the two of you were busy getting snockered.”
“Oh, no.” Harper shook her head.
“We were working hard, right, Ian?”
Ian made an attempt to stand
straight, but swayed comically. “We were working hard.” He nodded, but turned
to Harper. “What were we working hard at again?”
“Looking at the mug shots.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s right. We were
looking at the mug shots.” He faced Cash. “And doing shots.”
“Sh-sh-sh. It’s a secret.” Harper
laughed.
Ian chuckled along with her. “Oh,
yeah.”
Cash put his hands on his hips.
“Well, I hate to tell you, friends, but the cat’s out of the bag now.”
“Cat? What cat?” Harper laughed,
seeming to be slightly more sober than her partner in crime, his partner.
“He has a cat?” Ian seemed
genuinely confused, looking around for the feline. “You never told me you had a
cat.”
Harper sputtered and broke into laughter
again.
Cash sat, hiding his chuckle. She
was so damned cute. He put his feet on the coffee table, spreading his arms out
along the top of the couch. “Whose idea was this anyhow?”
They pointed at each other.
“It was mine?” Harper asked. Ian
nodded. “Oh. It was mine.” She smiled and didn’t appear to try to hide her
pride.
Cash shook his head, staring at
them for a moment. He stood and pulled out his phone. “Okay, Ian. I’m calling
you an Uber.” He punched some buttons. “Chrissy’s gonna kick your butt. And the
next time she sees me, she’s gonna kick my butt.” He looked at his screen. “Two
minutes away.” He came over and put his arm around Ian, steering him to the
door.
“I’m leaving?”
Cash grabbed his jacket off a
recliner. “Yes, you are. Maybe the night air will sober you up some.”
“I doubt it.”
Cash laughed. “I doubt it, too. And
you, little missie—” he swung around to point to her.
She looked about, then put a finger
on her chest and mouthed “Me?”
“Yes, you. Don’t think you’re off
the hook. I’ll deal with you when I get back.”
About
M.J. Schiller
One day--when
M.J.'s triplets were about two, and her eldest four--she was doing laundry and
matching up the socks, one of her least favorite chores. She lined them up all
along her arms as she hunted for their mates. After a bit of fruitless
searching, she glanced at the time and realized she needed to hustle to be on
time for a prayer service she was attending at her church.
She made it in
time, her four children in tow, and removed her coat before kneeling to say a
prayer. An half hour later, as she piously prayed along with the congregation,
her eldest asked, "Mommy, why do you have a sock on your shoulder?"
She had missed removing one of her husband's long, mateless gym socks!
