God, yes. I felt like an idiot when I danced in high school.”
She laughed again, even though it was impossible to imagine this man graceless. She was immediately ashamed of herself. Kyle had only died three months ago, and Nate Kendrick had played a role in the tragedy. She’d agreed to work for him because she was desperate, and for Molly’s sake. Becoming friends and confidantes wasn’t happening. Given his tall, lean body, the saunter that spoke of complete confidence and features that might be too rough to be called handsome, he had to turn women’s heads wherever he went.
I can’t be one of them, she thought desperately.
I hope I’m not too predictable, but I know I’ve returned to some of the same themes repeatedly in my Harlequin Superromance novels. Always love, but also family, the people who are missing in our lives, and the aftereffects of trauma or loss. Without intending any such theme, I’ve managed to combine all of that in this, my last Superromance.
His daughter, her kids, his troubled ex-wife and the blame game. Is Nate really a man who breaks promises? The heroine wants to blame him for her husband’s death—but is that fair? And what kind of relationship can they possibly have when Nate also turns out to be the support Anna so desperately needs when she finds her husband’s death left her and their two children destitute? Imagine having to let yourself lean on the person you also want to hate—or, from his perspective, to fall in love with a woman whose devastation might be your fault.
Love never comes easily in my books!
Look for me next at Harlequin Intrigue. Different kinds of stories, but I feel sure you’ll still see the forces that have always driven my characters.
Signing out,
Janice
I’ve been lucky to have worked with remarkably smart, strong, caring editors at Harlequin Superromance. To Victoria, Jane, Laura and Wanda: a huge thank-you. I wouldn’t be the writer I am without you.
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