Here you'll find a brief description of each book. Read more for an excerpt and "the story behind the story".
Some quick hints: I love all my children...er, books...equally. But some have different tones and characters than others. If you liked the more light-hearted Amber Rules, you'd probably also enjoy Count on Love, Once Upon a Christmas and The Best-Kept Secret. If you liked the drama in Michael's Father, you'd probably also enjoy A Marriage Between Friends and Back to Eden. The rest of my library falls somewhere in between (a balance of drama and fun).
Looking for a sweeter read? Try my Harlequin Heartwarmings or The Bridesmaid Series, where I write as Melinda Curtis.
Looking for a hotter read? Try my Hollywood Rule series, where I write as Mel Curtis.
You can find a list of all my titles here.
Although they dated for only a month, Harley O’Hannigan just agreed to be Vince Messina’s plus-one at a Harmony Valley wedding. Big mistake, given her deepening feelings for the tall, dark, unavailable bachelor. And what about Vince’s long-buried family history? Then there’s the growing secret that could transform this pretend relationship into the real thing…
Heat level: As with all Harlequin Heartwarming books, this story is sweet (has no overt sensuality, rated PG).
But she found a home
Never in her wildest dreams could single mom Ella Monroe imagine co-inheriting the small town of Second Chance, Idaho—or falling for its curmudgeonly doctor, Noah Bishop. Despite his rough edges and protests for isolation, Noah has her believing in love at first sight again. But when she’s pressured to sell her stake, Ella is torn between family loyalty and following her heart.
Heat level: As with all Harlequin Heartwarming books, this story is sweet (has no overt sensuality, rated PG).
Santa School, part of the Heartwarming Christmas Town Holiday series (a mulit-author sweet romance series)
Dominick Decker wife's last wish was that he and daughter Jessie move to Christmas Town. As a second generation repairman Dom doesn't understand why Christmas is so important to everyone in Christmas Town. You put up a tree, buy some gift cards and order a pre-made turkey dinner from the grocery store, which leaves plenty of time for service calls in between. What more does he need to do? A lot if he's to ensure Jessie has a good Christmas, the first without her mother.
Enter Ruby Caldwell, owner of Santa School and trainer of "professional" Santas. Now that she's been laid off from her day job, she needs to take Santa School from a part-time seasonal hobby to a full-time year-round operation. That requires a positive mindset, along with a healthy dose of creativity. Step one: Santa School for Busy Elves to train single dads like Dominick to put on a great Christmas by themselves. All she needs are a few willing dads and a don't-quit smile. With a challenge like Dominick, let's hope Ruby's smile holds out this holiday season.
A car was in the ditch, a figure trying to scale the bank to the road.
Dom pulled over and turned his hazard lights on. “Stay inside, Jess. Call for help if I get stuck in that ditch.” He handed her his cell phone.
Clutching the unit, his daughter undid her belt buckle and pressed her nose to the window.
Dom left the car in park with the heater on full blast and came around to the side of the road.
A short woman in a green jacket and blue jeans was struggling to ascend the bank where her blue car had landed. She waved at Dom as if she wasn’t sure he’d seen her and was a bit panicked.
Ruby wore one of those knit caps with fake white braids. They flew behind her in the wind, along with her dark hair.
Dom tested out footing near the edge of the road, found a solid layer of snow and reached for her.
She grabbed onto his hand with red knit gloves with Rudolph stitched on the back, similar to the ones the Knotty Elves had given Jessie. He hauled her to the shoulder.
“Thank you,” Ruby shouted, looking at him with eyes the dark blue of her denim jeans. Her lashes were frosted with snowflakes. She stared back down at her car. “The wind pushed me right off the road.”
The wind whipped between them, nearly pushing her back over the edge.
Dom grabbed two handfuls of green jacket and yanked her back to safety, which at the moment happened to be the shelter of his arms. She didn’t push away or cling. She just…fit, even though her head barely reached his armpits.
He chuckled. Somewhere up in heaven, Mia would be chuckling, too.
Just the fact that he’d used the word armpits to describe Ruby proved he wasn’t and never would be the romantic type.
“Are you laughing at me?” Ruby stared up at him. Illuminated by the headlights, her eyes sparkled, and her lips were as deep red as her name.
Dom stiffened. He hadn’t wanted to kiss a woman in a long time.
That didn’t mean he let go of her. If anything, he held on a little tighter as he tried to figure out what about this petite dynamo could have possibly reached through the layers of protection he’d security-installed around his heart.
“Of course, you’re laughing at me.” Ruby tried to shrug out of his hold. “You being you.”
The wind shifted, circled, sent one of her hat’s yarn braids slapping across his face. The puffy ends were frosted with ice and struck with force.
And that’s what he got for having thoughts about a woman that went beyond her ability to pay to fix her heating or air conditioning woes. “Get in the truck.”
“I’m not going to leave.” Ruby stopped struggling and rested her gloved hands on his chest. Snowflakes crusted on her cheeks and had begun collecting on the shoulders of her jacket. “I called a tow truck.”
“You’ll be a snowman by the time one arrives.” Dom wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her to safety. “Get in the truck.”
He opened his door. The wind tried to take it like a sail. “Because it’s not safe here.” If she waited by her car there was no guarantee another vehicle wouldn’t slam into her. “This turn and that wind spell disaster.”
“Dad, that doesn’t spell anything.” Jessie sat on her knees, staring at the two adults as the wind blew snowflakes in the cab. Apparently, not even roadside emergencies halted the smart wheels of his daughter’s brain.
“Get in,” Dom commanded. When Ruby didn’t immediately set foot on the running board, Dom lifted her toward the seat.
“Seriously?” Ruby crouched behind the wheel, boots still facing outward as if she was about to climb back down. “Just because I’m elf-size doesn’t mean you can just toss me about.”
“Why are you upset?” He gestured for her to move over. “Normally, I’d earn some respect for picking up a woman.”
“You are not picking me up!” Her blue eyes turned a stormy navy.
Those eyes, he decided, were the key to her mood.
For once, Jessie watched without a running commentary.
The wind gathered at his back, pushing the door open wider and sliding across Dom’s exposed skin – his wrists, his neck, his nose – taking his patience with it.
“Shove over, girls.” Dom pushed Ruby into the middle of the cloth bench seat the same way he used to push a football sled across the fifty-yard line in high school – with both hands on the most solid feature. In this case, her slender hips and upper thighs. When he’d made enough room, he climbed behind the wheel, shut the door and gripped the steering wheel to keep his eyes looking ahead and not at Ruby Caldwell.
Who he still wanted to kiss.
The Rancher's Redemption, Book 3 in the Return of the Blackwell Brothers series
The last time Ben saw Rachel Thompson was when her best friend left him at the altar. Now Rachel’s suing the Blackwells over river water rights. Rachel’s a triple threat—rancher, fellow attorney and single mom—and Ben’s plan to win in court hits a snag when mutual attraction blooms. If he divulges a long-held secret, will his family forgive him? Will Rachel?
Rachel’s roan gelding, Utah, was ungainly but trustworthy. Nothing spooked him. Not her mother’s yappy poodle. Not Poppy pulling on his mane.
Not even the sight of Ben Blackwell being chased by a charging bull.
Rachel was spooked, though. Her hands trembled and air stuck in her throat. Life on the range wasn’t like living in the suburbs. She’d witnessed ranch hands gored by bulls during branding, struck by hooves while training horses, lose fingers to hay balers. Lacerations. Broken bones. Internal injuries. People got hurt on a ranch. People died.
She may not like Ben, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be trampled.
On the road separating the two properties, Rachel urged Utah into a fast trot toward the gate that opened onto Blackwell land. She freed a length of rope from her saddle as smoothly as if she was reaching for her cell phone. She loosened the noose.
She wasn’t that good with a lasso. A shiver of fear ran through Rachel, originating in concern for Ben. And then another shiver startled her, one brought on by the image of her roping the bull and watching helplessly as he bolted for the river. She’d be pulled off Utah’s back, dragged into the pasture and serve as the bull’s doormat, one that read Little Ladies Not Welcome Here.
Little ladies weren’t cowboys. Little ladies didn’t run ranches or track down escaped heifers or save grown men. Rachel breathed raggedly as Utah carried her closer.
The Double T had survived generations because of strong Thompson leadership. It was why she’d come after the garden trampling, suit ruining heifer, because she was running things now and she couldn’t rely on anyone else. Although, to be honest, this little lady had eaten dinner before embarking on her heifer search. Consequently, the cow had a big head start and was nowhere to be found.
Rachel squared her shoulders. Not that the heifer mattered right now. This rancher had other priorities.
Ben reached the trees before the bull and swung up into the branches like a monkey. He looked more like a rodeo clown in red running tights beneath black shorts and a neon yellow nylon jacket. No wonder the bull was chasing him.
The bull charged the tree, bumping the trunk without reaching Ben or knocking him down. He continued to patrol, clearly hoping to catch any straggling rodeo clowns.
Spotting Utah and Rachel, the bull took a run at the gate.
Rachel pulled up ten feet away and stood in her stirrups, twirling the rope above her head. This was her chance. Rope the bull and hold him long enough for Ben to escape.
The bull rammed the metal gate with his beefy shoulder, testing the barrier to see if it would give. It didn’t. Thank heavens Big E kept the ranch in tip-top shape.
Utah pawed the ground, refusing to back down.
Heartened, Rachel spun the rope higher. Now was the time to prove she was a rancher, not the rancher’s princess daughter.
“Do taunt that bull, Rachel.”
“The superhero in red tights is giving me advice?” Rachel threw the rope.
It landed cockeyed on the bull’s forehead and over one ear, which seemed to annoy the beast. He shook his head and pranced on the other side of the gate, snorting. The rope fell to the ground.
Rachel sat back in the saddle and coiled the rope for another try. “My mother would say you’re in a pickle, Blackwell.” Her mother would tell Rachel to get her sweet patooty out of there and get help.
Rachel might have done that a year ago, before Dad died, but now things had changed. She’d changed.
“It’s June,” Ben griped from his position in the tree. “This pasture should be empty. The cattle should be over on higher ground across the river.”
Hearing Ben’s voice, the bull turned and charged the trees. He wasn’t the brightest steak-on-a-hoof. He slammed into the wrong tree.
“Quit taunting the bull.” Rachel’s heart was having palpitations to rival the ones that killed her father. “A true cowboy would’ve asked where the livestock was before he took off in his pretty running clothes.”
“I’m not a cowboy anymore. I’m a lawyer.” Ben clung to the tree trunk and shouted at the bull,
“Calm down, Blackwell. You’ll be reduced to bits of superhero tights if that bull has its way with you.” If she rescued him, maybe he’d be so shaken up he wouldn’t show up in court tomorrow.