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Thursday, May 21, 2015

Love Down Under Romance Anthology; #NewRelease

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Genre: Contemporary Romance
Authors: Rosalind James, Tracey Alvarez, Diana Fraser, H.Y. Hanna, Joanne Hill, Kris Pearson, Annie Seaton, and Serenity Woods.
ISBN: 978-0-9962654-3-0


Eight New Zealand & Australian Beach Romances

100% pure escape.
Escape to the Land Down Under, where the sky is bluer, the living is
slower, and the loving is sweeter. This summer, dive into eight heartwarming feel-good beach romances by bestselling Australian and New Zealand authors. And because size matters, they’re all novel or long novella length! We’ve got cheeky, sexy, funny, steamy, sweet—and all with heaps of heart. Enjoy with
a tall pitcher of iced tea or a bottle of chilled white wine—we’ll never
  • Eight standalone novels (no cliffhangers!) spanning 1,500+ pages
  • Over 95% off retail for the individual books sold separately
  • Only available through July--get your copy today!

Eight perfect indulgences to get your summer sorted!
ROSALIND JAMES, – Just for You (Escape to New Zealand)
TRACEY ALVAREZ – Melting Into You (Due South)
DIANA FRASER – The Playboy’s Redemption  (The Mackenzies)
H.Y. HANNA – Playing to Win (Summer Beach Vets)
JOANNE HILL – Falling for Jack
KRIS PEARSON – The Boat Builder’s Bed (Wicked in Wellington)
ANNIE SEATON – Beach House (Bondi Beach Love)
SERENITY WOODS – A Secret Between Friends (Treats  to Tempt You)

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INDIVIDUAL BOOKS INCLUDE 6 Full-Length Novels & 2 Long Novellas. No Cliffhangers! Over 1,500 pgs!
ROSALIND JAMES, – Just for You (Escape to New Zealand)
All Black rugby star Hemi Ranapia meets a beautiful—and very unimpressed—blast from his past, and finds his fishing holiday taking a most unexpected turn. Sometimes, especially in New Zealand’s Maori Northland, it really does take a village. And sometimes it just takes a little faith. (Heat level: Steamy)

She'd stood in her neat row to one side of the bride throughout the service, had done her best to keep her attention on the event, and had felt his gaze on her as surely as if he'd been touching her. She'd had to will herself not to shiver, and the look he sent her way, unsmiling and intent, when she walked back up the aisle again told her she hadn't been imagining his interest.
She'd still had what felt like hours of photo-taking to come. Standing around endlessly, smiling in the sunshine, arranging and rearranging herself according to the photographer's instructions, being flirted with by one of the groomsmen, with Hemi in and out of her view all the while. His suit coat off now, his tie loosened, white shirt stretching across chest and shoulders. A beer in his hand and a smile on his face, having a chat with the other boys, being approached, at first shyly and then with enthusiasm, by the kids. And by the girls, she saw with a twinge of jealousy that made no sense at all, as one after another of them smiled for him, touched her hair, touched his arm. It looked to her like every unattached woman at the wedding, and more than one of the partnered ones as well, was going out of her way to chat him up. And he wasn't exactly resisting.
But he was looking at her all the same. Every now and then, she glanced across and his gaze caught hers, and she saw an expression on his face, an intensity and a heat that were making her burn.
By the time the photography was done and she was released at last, the wedding party moving into the wharekai so the eating and drinking and dancing could begin, she was well and truly warmed up, and tingling more than a little in every single place she could imagine him touching with those clever hands, the hands she somehow knew would handle a woman as deftly as they handled a rugby ball.
The band began to play, the bride and groom stepped into their first dance, and she saw him edging his way around an animated group towards her, a glass in each hand. He reached her side, handed her the flute of champagne with the flash of a smile.
"Think you earned this," he told her.
She took it, and he touched his glass to hers.
"Cheers," he said with another white smile, the heat in his gaze unmistakable at this range. He tipped his brown throat back and drank, and she mirrored his action, felt golden bubbles popping against her tongue, the cool liquid sliding down her own throat. Drinking together like that somehow felt as intimate as kissing him, and the tongues of flame were licking every secret spot now.
"Took your time, didn't you?" she asked him with a cool she wasn't even close to feeling.
He laughed. "Didn't want to seem too eager. Doing my best to be smooth here, but it's hard going."
Another long drink, another long look as Victoria and Mason finished their dance and the band began another number, a fast one, and couples started filling the floor.
"Think I can get a dance?" he asked.
"Mmm, I think you could," she said. "Maybe so."
© Rosalind James 2014

TRACEY ALVAREZ – Melting Into You (Due South)
Ben Harland doesn’t do emotional stuff, but he does want to do Stewart Island’s pretty schoolteacher, Kezia Murphy. He needs a plan B to convince Kezia into his bed when his surprise eight-year-old daughter unexpectedly arrives on his doorstep. (Heat level: Steamy)

Kezia half turned to watch her go, her dark curls spilling over the shoulders of her red blouse. The silky material stopped just short of the curve of her hips, pointing like an arrow to her shapely little ass. An ass that, no matter how many cool showers he endured, held a reoccurring role in his dreams. The fiery color suited her dark hair and olive skin. If he touched her now, would she burn as hot?
Really. Bad. Idea.
He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “Holly got sick, and I tried to ring, but—”
“It’s fine. Jade keeps Zoe entertained too, so it’s win-win.”
“Thanks, I owe you one.”
“I guess you do.” She paused. “There’s something you could do for me.”
Though he needed her help, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease. “Does it involve a leather riding crop and you dressed only in stilettos?”
Her serious expression dissolved. “In your dreams, big guy.”
He waited for the tell-tale blush to warm her cheeks. Nothing. She smiled at him with the same patronizing smile she gave every other man who came on to her—and he’d seen a few crash and burn since Kezia arrived in Oban.
Huh. She thought they could return to polite acquaintances. After that kiss? The one that kept him awake at night?
Not gonna happen. Game on.
He imagined everything he wanted to do to her, with her, before he spoke. Hoped the echo of those thoughts would filter through his tone. “So…what can I do for you?”
A sudden stiffening of her spine shouted, “Message received, loud and clear.”
She met his gaze, serene and cool as a marble statue. “I want Jade to go the Easter gala on Monday. Zoe’s told Jade all about it.”
Not the request he’d hoped for. “I’ve already arranged for her to go. Mum and Piper are taking her.”
“I think you should take her. It’d be good for her to see you loosen up a little.”
“I’m loose.” He shrugged to demonstrate his laid-back-ness.
Kezia rolled her eyes. “Not with Jade, you aren’t. You edge around her like you’ve got that riding crop stuck up your butt.”
Goddamn—sparring with this woman was the best fun he’d had in months. “Why Kezia, I thought you were a good Catholic girl…yet you’re thinking about my butt.”
That shocked a full-out belly laugh from her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been a good Catholic girl, and don’t change the subject—you and Jade need to relax and have fun.”
“Oh, I know how to have fun.” He closed the gap between them and braced a palm against the door jamb.
She sniffed and arched a brow. “I mean fun that doesn’t involve the kinds of things men like you think is fun.”
“Beer, sports, and sex?”
“Precisely.” She placed one small palm on his chest and shoved him out of her doorway. “Now stop flirting, and go swim with the sharks.”
She shut the door in his face.
The brief warmth of her hand against his tee shirt sizzled through his skin and he grinned at the closed door. “Yes, Mistress Murphy.”

© Tracey Alvarez 2014

DIANA FRASER – The Playboy’s Redemption  (The McKenzies)
James Mackenzie is tired of his shallow lifestyle and wants a family. But first, he wants to secure the future of the woman he wronged ten years before. But how can Susie Henderson trust someone who betrayed her, someone who doesn't even believe in himself? (Heat level: Steamy)

Susie glanced around and saw James had left some papers on the table. Just at that moment he returned, by himself.
She picked up the papers and held them out to him. “Grown forgetful?”
He shook his head, no sign of a smile now. “No. I remember everything.”
“And you still choose to come here and buy a company I’m involved with? I’m surprised.”
“Are you? Why?” Again, he was being deliberately obtuse.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, layering the sarcasm thickly. “Perhaps because ten years ago I told you I never wanted to see you again?” She could see she’d hit a raw nerve by the tension in the fine lines around his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. His face was immobile and, for the first time, serious.
“Ten years is a long time.”
“Not so long when the facts remain the same, when the feelings remain the same. When nothing’s changed.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not. You were a bastard then, and I’m sure you’re a bastard now.”
He shrugged. “A bastard maybe, but I’m also the owner of this winery.” He tapped the papers he was still holding, onto the table between them. “Signed and sealed. Everything has changed.”

© Diana Fraser 2013

H.Y. HANNA – Playing to Win (Summer Beach Vets)
Ellie Monroe doesn't make mistakes, and her dream job in a gorgeous Australian seaside town isn't the place to start. But a mischievous chocolate Lab and a handsome Aussie vet just might make her change her mind. Sometimes, a mistake can be the best thing that could happen to you… (Heat level: Sweet)

The waiting room erupted in total mayhem. The old woman shrieked and clutched the carrier to her breast as Milo bounced eagerly around her, barking and trying to shove his nose up to the cage. A hissing, spitting ball of orange fur exploded against the bars of the cat cage. Will shouted and tried to grab Milo’s collar while Ellie and the receptionist nearly collided with each other as they ran to help.
“Crikey—what’s going on here?” came a deep male voice behind them. Ellie whirled around to see a tall man in blue scrubs standing in the hallway next to the reception desk. He must have just come out from one of the consulting rooms and, judging by the stethoscope around his neck and his authoritative air, he was one of the vets at the practice.
He came forward rapidly and said in a commanding tone, “SIT.”
The effect was amazing. Milo stopped in mid-bounce and sat. The cat subsided. The old lady calmed down. Will stopped yelling and Ellie almost dropped down on her butt herself. She had worked with a lot of powerful, successful men in her time, but there was something else about this man. An air of easy-going, relaxed confidence that belied a strong, commanding presence. She eyed him with renewed interest.
He was massive, with the kind of toned, muscular body she had seen in professional athletes—powerful shoulders, broad chest, and taut biceps that were accentuated by the cut of the blue scrubs he wore. His hair was dark and close-cropped, highlighting his strong eyebrows and firm jawline. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes from here, but his gaze was cool, with a twinkle of amusement.
And he was the vet? Whoa, were Australian vets all so sexy? wondered Ellie. Then she stopped, shocked at her own thoughts. Where had that come from? She wasn’t the type of girl to drool over guys—even the hottest “jocks” back in college had never done a thing for her. Sure, she’d been on a few dates and they had been okay. But nothing to make her lose sleep over. Anyway, in her quest to graduate summa cum laude and then climb the career ladder, Ellie had hardly had time for boyfriends. She often joked that she was in a very happy relationship with a guy whose first name was Microsoft and last name was PowerPoint.
Now she looked at this tall Australian vet and felt something she had never felt before. And it scared her. She took a step back from him as he came forwards.
“What’s going on here?” he asked again.
Will said quickly, “It’s not Milo’s fault—he just really loves cats.”
“My poor Mopsy is never going to recover from this!” the old woman cried.
Poor Mopsy let out a loud yowl which suggested that not only was he fully recovered, but that he was ready to make mincemeat of any canine who dared to even look in his direction.
Ellie realised that everyone was looking at her. She saw the tall vet’s eyes rake over her and caught a glimmer of appreciation in his gaze. She flushed under his scrutiny. What was wrong with her? She was acting like some silly school girl!
“Uh… yeah.” She stepped forwards. “My name’s Ellie Monroe. I need your help—Milo has swallowed my USB flash drive.”
© H.Y. Hanna 2014

JOANNE HILL – Falling for Jack
Jack Fletcher has survived his rough upbringing to become a mega success. Now, with his personal life already in turmoil, he discovers he has a son. Robyn Taylor, the brainy girl destined for great things, waits tables for a living to support her twins. Looking after Jack’s son is a change for the better—or is it?  (Heat Level: Sweet)

“Is that man your new boyfriend?”
Robyn stopped in the middle of tying back her hair, and wondered briefly if she should read anything into Ruby's phase. Her ‘new’ boyfriend. She didn’t even have an ‘old’ one.  Edwin had been pretty much it with a few embarrassing interludes before that. She caught herself before she began her own “poor me” pity party, and told Ruby, “No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a—um...”
A what? A friend? An acquaintance?
“A friend,” she said. She heard the smooth rumble of Jack’s car and finally admitted she’d been deluding herself that she was calm over this. She held up her hand. It was actually trembling. Jack had rung her, asked her in that deep voice of his if he could talk to her and she’d agreed.
“What does he want?” Ruby asked. She wore one of Robyn’s new designs, a dark green cotton pinafore with a barely-there plaid imprint. Her pink blanky was draped around her shoulders like a shawl. Note to self: accessorize with pink. Add a couple of pink pockets. Thank you, Rubes.
“I’m not sure.” Robyn squared her shoulders, exhaled on a bundle of nerves. It was going to be something to do with Charlotte. What, she didn’t know, but it had to be.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Ruby pressed her hand into Robyn’s. “Harry said he’s a good boyfriend because he’s got lots of money. Has he got some money?”
Robyn shot her a curious stare. “Harriet told you all this?”
Ruby nodded. “Is he your boyfriend, Mom?”
“No.” She said it too loudly. Almost shouted it. “No,” she said again, calmly. “Like I said, Jack is a friend. Just a normal friend like Antony at playgroup.”
“Do you want him to be our boyfriend?” Ruby asked.
Knocks sounded at the door, Ruby gasped, and bolted away to pull open the door before Robyn could stop her.
She swung it open, and stared up at Jack.
Stunned, he stared down at her.
“Hello,” he said finally
“Hi,” Ruby said, not moving.
Jack looked up, met Robyn’s gaze. The strangest mix of panic, relief and...nerves?
Jack Fletcher had never, ever struck her as the nervous type.
(C) Joanne Hill, 2013

KRIS PEARSON – The Boat Builder’s Bed (Wicked in Wellington)
Sophie Calhoun fears her dream contract comes with strings that tie her to the superyacht-builder's bed. She knows Rafe Severino won't want a preoccupied single mother, so she's concealing her daughter's existence - and trying desperately not to fall in love.   (Heat level: Steamy)

She’d expected another phone call so she could thank Rafe personally for the orchids, but there were only several short and businesslike emails.
That was it? She was just the designer?
Probably she hadn’t seemed interested enough; well, she only had herself to blame. And really it was best this way. If she’d fallen for him and they’d had an affair she’d be hurting big-time now.
Instead of only medium-big.
But their passionate embrace at the foot of the stairs had burned itself into her brain. And memories of his possessive and protective behavior when he’d walked her to her door had thrilled her again and again.
His emails seemed cold by comparison so she was unprepared for his sudden appearance in the studio, mid afternoon Wednesday, duty-free bag dangling from a long tanned finger.
“Rafe!” she squeaked, rearing up in her chair and clicking the mouse when she hadn’t intended to. The ivory bedroom curtains on the screen turned bright orange.
His warm voice wrapped around her in a drugging mist.
So she wasn’t quite off the menu? Should she be pleased or annoyed?
He lowered the shiny bag onto the desk beside her and bent to brush a swift kiss over her astonished and trembling lips. “I bought you perfume.” Then he turned away and dropped onto the sofa, apparently exhausted.
She grimaced at the alarming orange curtains and rolled her chair back from the desk. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that to get a good job out of me, you know.”
Rafe seemed too tired to react. He simply said, “That was one pig of a trip. Thank God it’s over.”
She rose, took half a dozen shaky steps across to him, and peered down. The laugh lines around his normally joyful dark eyes looked more like worry lines today. The devil-may-care tycoon was human after all. “What was so bad?”
And why did I throw him such an ungrateful comment about the perfume?
He blew out a frustrated breath. “One accountant trying to fiddle the books, as I suspected. Nasty scenes. Sad when you trust someone. One inept salesman who nearly wrecked a huge deal. I pulled that back, by a miracle.” He reached out for her hand and grasped it. “One jumped-up Gelcoat rep who needed shooting. One cute little designer who wasn’t there.”
He gave a swift tug and Sophie overbalanced onto his lap.
“Better,” he said, sliding his arms around her to confine her. He kissed her again—with much greater thoroughness this time, and in full view of anyone who wished to look through the studio windows. Somehow she didn’t have the strength to fight him off. She wondered if she was even trying.
No, not trying at all. Fingers running through his inky hair now. Tongue sliding into his hot sweet-tasting mouth. Heart beating like a bongo drum. Thighs losing all muscle tone. Damn...

© Kris Pearson 2012

ANNIE SEATON – Beach House (Bondi Beach Love)
Rosie Pemberton has her life mapped out, and her tarot cards agree. The cards take a turn, though, when her aunt leaves the old house on the hill above Australia’s Bondi Beach to champion surfer Taj Brown. Three months sharing a house with a pinup would test any woman’s self-control… (Heat level: Steamy)

By the time he showered and limped back down the stairs, the house was quiet. He tapped on the door of the room Rosie had directed him to, and waited for her to open the door. He didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Come in.” Her voice was brisk as she stepped back to let him enter the dimly lit room. A strong smell of massage oil wafted over to him as she pointed to the privacy screen at the back of the small room.
“Slip down to your jocks, and lie face down on the table. Give me a call when you’re all settled.”
She stepped outside as he walked over to the screen and stripped down, hanging his jeans and shirt on the hook provided. He was looking forward to this. He always enjoyed a remedial massage and Rosie’s hands on him would make it even more enjoyable.
“I’m done,” he called out as he settled face down on the table and put his face into the soft vinyl ring, and looked down at the floor. A click was followed by soft music; the same sort of music they’d played in that alternative soul place in the Maldives. He closed his eyes as two warm hands gripped his calves and straightened his legs.
“Hmm.” Her voice was soft but with a tinge of concern.
“What’s wrong?” Taj tried to lift his head and look around but his position face down on the massage table made it too difficult. Rosie stretched his leg back and then the other.
“Which knee is the bad one?”
“The right one.”
“Your left leg is a fraction longer than your right. Do you have back problems?”
“No. Just the bloody knee. I’m as fit as a Mallee bull apart from the knee.”
Taj closed his eyes and let Rosie work her magic. He tried to focus on the remedial aspect of the massage but her firm hands sliding up and down the backs of his calves and thighs, and the smooth sensation of the massage oil on his skin sent tingles up to his groin. He swallowed and focused on the patterned carpet on the floor beneath the table. He counted the roses, then counted the leaves on the winding stems. The tightness that had been building in his groin began to lessen, until her warm hands reached his lower back.
God, he didn’t want to have a hard on when she rolled him over. But then all thoughts of pleasure flew out the window as her firm fingers hit a nerve at the base of his back and she pressed. Hard. Bloody hard.
“Holy shit.” He almost jumped off the table. “What the fuck’s that?”
“Breathe it out.”
“Breathe it out! I can’t bloody breathe. What the hell are you doing?”
“You want your knee fixed?”
“That’s not my knee.”
© Annie Seaton 2015

SERENITY WOODS – A Secret Between Friends (Treats  to Tempt You)
Genie Sharpe has come home to New Zealand’s Bay of Islands from Afghanistan with a bad knee, an aching heart, and her best friend Ciara’s bucket list. Ciara’s gorgeous big brother might be just the cure she needs, but secrets between friends  have a way of spiraling out of control. (Heat level: Steamy)

Genie took a swallow from her cup and shrugged. “I can understand why you’re mad—that was pretty embarrassing.”
“It’s nothing to do with Tamsin.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?” He didn’t reply, and after a few moments her eyes widened. “You’re not talking about Danny, surely?”
He looked out across the bay and drank his coffee.
She huffed out an irritated sigh. “Niall, seriously? You know we were winding you up, right? Anyway, me and Danny?” She laughed. “That’s as funny as saying me and Jonah. All the guys are like brothers to me.”
“Including me?”
Humor lit her eyes. “No, Niall. Excluding you.”
Her smile faded. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t think of me like a brother?”
“I trust you like one. I respect you. You drive me nuts the same as the others.”
He couldn’t bring himself to smile. “Why were you and Danny winding me up?”
“I thought that was what we all did to each other.”
Not now, he thought. Maybe a long time ago, he’d thought of her like a sister. But no longer.
A frown flickered across her brow again. “Why are you so angry with me?”
“I’m not angry with you.”
“I don’t want you to see anyone else,” he said.
He waited for the outburst. For her cry of indignation. For her to yell, Who the hell do you think you are?
It didn’t come. Instead, her lips curved a very tiny bit, and her eyes shone in the moonlight.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He held her gaze for a while. Then they both turned back to the view and sipped their coffee.
He couldn’t think what to say. He felt confused, hopeful, and frustrated, all at the same time.
After a few minutes of silence, she put down her glass and limped off to the laundry room.
He waited a moment, then put down his glass and followed her.
When he reached the doorway, he leaned on the jamb and watched her, hands in his pockets. She was folding up some washing she’d done earlier, placing tops on hangers and laying jeans over the clothes stand.
She glanced up at him, then back at the washing. What was she thinking? She’d expressed no resentment at his demand, and he couldn’t understand why. Hadn’t it irritated her? She’d always been fiercely independent, disliking any guy who tried to make demands on her. But the only word to leave her mouth had been Okay. Why had she said that?
His gaze slid down her, noting the curve of her waist and hips, the swell of her breasts as she leaned over the machine to reach the basket. The pale skin of her neck and behind her ear. How pink her lips were, and her beautiful Cupid’s bow.
She didn’t look up again, but twin spots of red touched her cheekbones. He tilted his head to look at them, and the color intensified.
A smile touched his lips.
He pushed off the doorjamb and walked into the room. Took the washing from her hands and threw it into the basket.
Her lips parted, but she didn’t object, her breathing coming quickly as he turned her to face him.
Bending a little, he caught the bottom of her dress in his hands and lifted it. Wordlessly, she raised her arms so he could pull the dress up over her breasts and head, and he dropped it to the floor.

© Serenity Woods 2015

Fuelled by copious amounts of coffee, Tracey Alvarez writes steamy but heart-warming contemporary romances set in New Zealand.

Diana Fraser is an award-winning author of sexy, emotional romances set wherever there are beautiful locations and wealthy and powerful men!

H.Y. Hanna is an award-winning author of sweet romances, romantic suspense and mysteries set in beautiful, exotic locations.
Kiwi author Joanne Hill writes short romance - light, funny, and contemporary, set in beautiful New Zealand.

Rosalind James is a bestselling wannabe-Kiwi author of contemporary romance and romantic suspense set in both New Zealand and the U.S.

Kris Pearson writes sizzling contemporary romance, pure and simple. Well, maybe not that pure! She's the author of a dozen steamy novels.
Annie Seaton is a bestselling Aussie author of beach romances set all over the world in exotic locations.

A prolific and award-winning fantasy and romance author of over 40 books, Serenity Woods writes hot and sultry romances with a happy ever after.

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