Showing posts with label Sheila Roberts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sheila Roberts. Show all posts

⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Starry-Eyed for Christmas by Sheila Roberts #Romance

An Unconventional Love Story Wrapped Up in the Magic of the Holiday Season


Starr Conner is longing to find the perfect man. She hasn’t found him in her beach town of Port Haven. She just knows he exists. Somewhere. Maybe this year Santa will come through for her.

John Smith is new to the area. Actually, John Smith is new to Earth. Making his visit in the special human form provided for him, he gets to experience a taste of life there. And he’s just in time for the festival called Christmas. Long before he meets Santa, he meets someone even better: Starr.

Starr is thinking her dream man might have finally arrived, but there’s just one problem. Earth’s atmosphere isn’t as welcoming as she is, and much as he wants to, John can’t stay permanently. Can an out of this world love conquer all?

Starry-Eyed for Christmas is available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/099943988X .

╰┈➤Book Details 

● Title: Starry-Eyed for Christmas
● Author: Sheila Roberts
● Genre: Romance
● Sub-genre: Christmas Romance
● Language:English
● Pages: 170
● Paperback ISBN: ‎978-0999439883
● Publisher: Roberts Ink
● Publication Date: October 18, 2025
● Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/099943988X
● Price: Paperback $12.99, Kindle $9.99

Excerpt:

 

Somewhere on the planet there had to be a man Starr Conner could fall in love with. Not just sort of, not just top lust and drool over, but someone who was her soulmate, someone who wanted to dream together, grow together, and build a life together. Where was he hiding? Certainly not in Port Haven, where men smelled like the fish they caught and never thought beyond beer on Friday night. Not that Starr had anything against beer. Or fish, especially not fish. Fish, along with crabs, oysters and clams, were what kept the Neptune Seafood Company humming. They sold both canned and fresh to chain supermarkets all around Washington State. And that kept the town humming as more than half its residents were employed there. The rest were either retired or managing to eke out a living catering to the tourists who managed to discover Port Haven during the summer. Most of them either went to Ocean Shores or Seabrook, two main attractions on the Washington coast, but a few managed to straggle in and buy fresh seafood, rent one of the two Air B&Bs in town and party on the beach.

No one stayed in the derelict old Starlite Motel (Or, according to its dying neon sign, the Star---te otel) which hunched in humiliation at the top of the bluff overlooking the beach. Nobody in town knew who owned it – some sort of shell company, it was assumed. The place had a crusty old custodian of sorts who beat back the blackberries and scared away teens hoping to find a room they could break into and hook up. Occasionally lights would flicker in a top corner room of the motel.

Which, of course, convinced some people that it was haunted.

No ghost hunters had come to town to prove it. But hardly anyone came to town at all so that wasn’t at all surprising.

Where were those romance heroes you saw stumbling into small towns all over the Hallmark channel? Not in Port Haven, that was for sure. Oh, the town had a few of the expected staple movie characters – the snobs, consisting of mean girls and the few remaining former high school football stars who dated and then married the mean girls, the requisite best friend. “Earth to Starr. Come back,” said Ellie Peterson from her desk across the small office of the Neptune Seafood Company where Starr (and half the town) worked.

Ellie was Starr’s requisite best friend. Although really, they were mostly besties because there wasn’t much of anyone else to bestie with. Starr loved to read and watch romance movies and series on BritBox. Pride and Prejudice, the BBC series … sigh.

Ellie was into graphic novels and shows where despicable people murdered each other. Love stories optional. But they’d known each other since kindergarten and Ellie did like to play Boggle. When her catch of the day, Gus, wasn’t claiming her evenings. She was expecting a ring for Christmas. And she had predicted Starr would be getting one, too, from Milton Curtis, the science teacher at Harbor High.

“What?” said Starr.

“You’re thinking about that movie again,” Ellie accused.

She was right. The latest movie Starr had watched had featured a mysterious stranger coming to a dying small town.

He turned out to be a business tycoon looking for a place to plant his new factory. Of course, he’d fallen for the heroine, Misty Moran (great name!) and when hiking in the woods she’d sprained her ankle. He’d carried her to a nearby, handily deserted mountain cabin. Later, after they’d conveniently found a bottle of wine and a frozen pizza, he’d kissed her in front of a roaring fire.

If she wanted, Starr could enjoy a roaring fire at her own house, where she still lived, even though neither her mother nor her father was around anymore. Dad had died in a boating accident and Mom had moved to an over fifty community further inland, hoping to find a Dad the Second. It was looking like she had. (That singles cruise had been a good investment.)

As for her brother, well, he’d left behind ordinary and moved to San Francisco where he was making big bucks as a tech genius and was working on becoming the next Elon Musk. No ordinary life for James.

“There are no lost billionaires wandering the Washington coast. If there were I’d have found one for you,” Ellie teased.

“So, you may as well grab Milton and come to Keep Clam with me and Gus tonight. Gotta get ready for the darts tourney tomorrow.”

“Darts.” At the pub. Again. And again. Starr was stuck in a remake of the movie Groundhog Day. She was tired of the same entertainment at the same place with the same people.

She was tired of her lukewarm life. Where was the zing? The zest?

“Why don’t they ever have a trivia night?” she complained.

“Because no one would come,” said Ellie. “Anyway, if they did, you and Milton would smoke us all. So, how about it? Darts?”

“I think I’m going to stay home. I want to work on that new bracelet.” Artistic fame and Etsy were calling.

“Ooh, the one with the sea glass?”

“Yep. The starfish charms finally came in and I’ve got enough sea glass now to make at least a dozen bracelets.”

“Save me one.” Yes, Ellie was a true bestie. She loved her short, half-shaved hair and she favored jeans and sweatshirts but, like Starr, she loved jewelry. And she especially loved Starr’s hand-crafted bling that featured beach glass and agates and shells.

Starr nodded and turned her attention to her computer screen.

“But we’ll see if you get anything done. Milton’s bound to turn up on your doorstep.”

“No, he’s got his podcast tonight.”

“Milton Mars,” sneered Ellie. “My gosh, that man has got to get over his fixation about past civilizations on Mars before he puts the whole town to sleep talking about it. Nobody cares.”

“He could be right,” Starr said in her make-do boyfriend’s defense. “There could be life out there.”

“Right. And little green men really landed at Area 51.” Ellie studied her. “Why are you with him, anyway? I mean, he’s nice and all but he doesn’t exactly look Hallmark.”

Well, really, who did? “He’s sweet,” said Starr.

Sadly, being sweet wasn’t enough. Milton didn’t make her heart flutter when he kissed her. In fact, she tried to avoid kissing him as much as possible. For all his fascination with life on Mars, Milton just didn’t know how to make life on earth exciting. If that wasn’t a sign that they shouldn’t be together she didn’t know what was.

“Yeah, he is. But he’s a nerd. I just don’t see you with a nerd.”

“There isn’t much of anyone in this town to see me with,” Starr said.

“Gary,” Ellie began.

“Oh, yes, I want to get back together with the boyfriend who broke up with me right before prom.”

“Good point,” Ellie agreed. “But how about ...”

Starr cut her off. “Andy just found someone on Tinder.”

Ellie sighed. “Looks like you’re stuck with Milton.”

Poor Milton. Would he want someone who was with him because she was settling for second best? Not that there was a best in town to compare him to.”

Starr leaned on her desk and looked out the window past the reflection of a woman with long, red hair and hazel eyes who was teetering on the edge of thirty. An almost Hallmark worthy face. The sky above restless waters was slate gray.

There’d been talk of snow, but she doubted they’d get any.

Snow rarely visited the coast, even when it was December. A white Christmas would be nice, even if it was only a dusting.

White Christmases, perfect man – boy, was she a dreamer.

“If he’s not doing it for you, you really should set him free.

Give him a chance to find someone else. Otherwise, come New Year’s Eve, there he’ll be with a ring he’s sprung for and there you’ll be, throwing it in his face. Not literally,” Ellie clarified.

Starr exhaled deeply. She should set the man free to find someone else. There were other single women in town, and not quite enough men to go around. Milton was valuable property. She was just keeping him around as… a place holder.

She frowned at the thought. “I always thought I was a nice person,” she mused.

“You are,” Ellie assured her.

“Well, it’s not nice to keep Milton hanging on. You’re right.

He and I need to have a talk.”

But not that night. She already had plans for the evening, and dumping Milton wasn’t one of them. But they would have that talk. Soon. She owed it to him.

Okay, enough talk about their love lives – Ellie’s great, hers lukewarm. It was time to get back to work. Entering orders, typing reports, emailing copies of reports to Chad Everly, their boss. Chad, such a cool name. Too bad the man who owned it was a grumpy middle-aged misogynist.

The afternoon piddled away and finally it was quitting time.

Workers spilled from the factory, got into their trucks and SUV’s and headed home, many to their wives and their TV’s.

Some of them would be showering and getting ready to go to Keep Clam to play darts. They’d drink beer, eat burgers or clam chowder, listen to country music and laugh, talk about the Seattle Seahawks or tell their buddies about that ring they’d put money down on at the jewelry shop over in Aberdeen.

Some would have their girlfriends there, rooting them on as they aimed for the high points on the dartboard. In between turns they’d sit next to those girlfriends, with a hand on their knees.

Starr would love to feel a big hand on her knee. The last big hand had wound up with a wedding ring on it and the guy now had two kids. But he hadn’t been her soulmate either. Sigh.

Was it asking too much to want a man who would give her the shivers when he smiled at her? A man who was larger than life and really appreciate life, one who wasn’t just marking time catching fish and watching football? Was that too much to ask?

Really?

Her cell phone summoned her. Milton. Sweet, amiable Milton. In a romance novel he would be the hero’s buddy. Or the comic relief. No, not the comic relief. Milton was too serious

to be comic relief.

“I’m doing a special podcast tonight. Are you going to watch it?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. She could half-listen while working on her bracelets.

And that would be her exciting night, sitting home listening to Milton’s podcast. Drilling tiny holes in sea glass would be more interesting.

And so, later, after heating up a frozen mini-pizza and reading a chapter in her novel, she gathered her supplies and settled at her little dining table with her laptop open and tuned

to Milton’s YouTube channel.

He came on in all his Milton glory, wearing his favorite button-down shirt. No glasses. Milton may have been nerd, but he wasn’t a total cliché. He wore contacts. And he really wasn’t’ bad looking. He had nice eyes and lips. His face was a little long, but the eyes made up for it. Still, she didn’t look at Milton and think, Let’s take a blanket to the beach and pretend to star gaze.

Wrap those big arms around me. Martin wouldn’t want to expose his bare skin to sand fleas. And he didn’t have big arms.

She half listened as he showed pictures similar to the ones he’d showed on his last podcast.

“We really are being lied to,” Milton said. It was his favorite theme, and he loved returning to it often. “Look carefully at these pictures. If you do, you’ll see what I mean when I say that all the buttes on Mars are nothing more than destroyed vessels that have come down out of the sky. We can know this because of the debris, which is actually metal. See the rocks scattered at the base? The satellite pictures we have proven that these are not rocks.”

They looked like rocks to Starr.

“Nothing is ever as it seems when you are looking at Mars.”

Maybe. But everything was exactly as it seemed in Port Haven. Sigh.

– Excerpted from Starry-Eyed for Christmas by Sheila Roberts, Roberts Ink, 2025. Reprinted with permission.


About the Author

USA Today and Publisher’s Weekly best-selling author Sheila Roberts has written over sixty books under different names, ranging from devotional, self-improvement and memoir to fiction. Her novels have been turned into movies for the Lifetime, Hallmark and Great American Family channels. Her 2024 Christmas novel, The Merry Matchmaker, received a starred review from Publishers Weekly. Sheila is happily married and lives in the Pacific Northwest.

Visit her website at www.sheilasplace.com.

Connect with her on social media at:

❄︎Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/p/Sheila-Roberts-100044180452595/

❄︎Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sheilarobertswriter/?hl=en

❄︎BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/sheila-roberts

❄︎TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@sheilarobertswriter


Sponsored By:
 

⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐Love on the Shelf by Sheila Roberts #RomanticComedy


Love on the Shelf, an enemies to lovers romcom, chronicles a battle of the sexes between a misogynist radio personality turned shock jock and the owner of a romance bookstore...


The battle lines are drawn—between a romance-loving bookseller and the shock jock determined to tear happily-ever-afters apart.

Alice Willoughby and her mom run HEA Books, a cozy shop devoted to love stories and the people who crave them. Alice is great at matching customers with their perfect happily-ever-after…she just can’t seem to find her own.

Enter Parker Black, a disillusioned radio host who’s reinvented himself as a romance-bashing shock jock. Bitter from his breakup with a romance author who turned love into a four-letter word, Parker takes aim at the entire genre—and his on-air rants start stirring up trouble for Alice’s loyal customers and their partners. He’s arrogant, aggravating, and absolutely not book-boyfriend material.

Parker’s crusade leads to spirited debates and bookstore protests, but when unexpected sparks fly between the two of them Alice begins to wonder if her favorite trope—enemies to lovers—might actually be playing out in real life. Parker may claim romance is a lie…but is he protesting a little too much?

With sharp wit and plenty of charm, USA Today bestselling author Sheila Roberts delivers a modern battle of the sexes where the biggest question is simple:

Are romance novels ruining love—or rewriting it?

╰┈➤Book Details

  • Genre: Romance
  • Sub-genre: Romantic Comedy
  • Language:English
  • Pages: 336
  • Paperback ISBN: ‎ 978-0778305828

Love on the Shelf is available at Amazon.


╰┈➤Here’s What Readers Have To Say!

“Sparkles with warmth, wit, and a sweet helping of holiday charm! The perfect stocking stuffer for readers who crave all the holiday feels and a happy ending!” —Rachel Linden, bestselling author of The Magic of Lemon Drop Pie on The Merry Matchmaker


"The Best Life Book Club is your book club book of the year...with her trademark wit and warmth, Sheila Roberts delivers a story nestled inside a story, a novel of pure delight! —Patti Callahan Henry, New York Times Bestselling author of The Secret Book of Flora Lea on The Best Life Book Club


"Sheila Roberts makes me laugh...and come away inspired, hopeful and happy." —Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author

╰┈➤Read if you love…

💕⃝🕊️ 💕⃝🕊️🥀Fun Romance Fiction

👱🏻‍♀️Romance Loving Booksellers

💪Shock Jocks

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆Happily Ever After

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・RomComs

Excerpt:


CHAPTER 1

GOOD GRIEF, ALICE, you’ve got to stop hiding in books. Wake up and see what’s going on around you.”

Alice Willoughby frowned at her older sister. Scarlet had always been a little bossy. Which was hardly surprising, since bossing was what older sisters did, even when they were only two years older. But this was . . . bossy plus. Not nice.

“It’s bad enough that beast king is turning men into lemmings with his stupid radio show and podcast, but now he’s trying to take down your business. You should be going after him,” Scarlet informed her.

“My business?” Alice repeated. “He’s said stuff about the store?”

“He might as well have.”

Scarlet was heated, Alice got that. Parker Black, radio personality and host of the popular radio talk show Jock Talk, had evolved into Parker Black, woman hater. He’d been using his platform to encourage men to quit being, as he put it, doormats. She’d heard some of their customers complaining about him. They were becoming upset as their boyfriends and husbands

began following him for more than his sports commentary. He was the new champion of American males.

Scarlet’s husband Mark was turning into a Parker Black lemming, going out with the guys after work whenever the spirit moved . . . or the spirits called, and spending what he referred to as his money, money he was goaded to spend because he worked hard and deserved it. All talk of starting a family

had been put on hold because their love life was paused, and their marriage of three years was circling the drain.

“You’ve got to do something,” Scarlet repeated as if Alice hadn’t heard her when she first blew into the bookstore.“Now he’s dissing romance novels.”

“I didn’t know anything about that,” Alice said.

Scarlet did the eye roll of disgust she’d perfected by the time she was eleven. “Of course you didn’t, because you hide in here all day and talk about living happily ever after with dukes and dragon trainers.”

Alice could feel embarrassment draping itself over her face like a red flag. But she rallied. “It seems to me you’ve been showing up for a lot of those happily-ever-after conversations when your

book club meets here.”

“Those are historical and we’re learning about history,” Scarlet said, sounding like a total snob. She was a regular at the Back in Time book club, one of four that met at the store.

“You’ve been known to be seen hanging out with the Chili Peppers a few times, too,” said Alice.

That group liked their books smutty and their heroes smexy. Two other book clubs besides those two met at the store, which, in addition to author signings, kept Alice busy most nights. The Closed-Door

Club preferred sweet romances and Darkness and Dragons was all about dark fantasy. Alice sat

in on all the club meetings, selling them books and passing out home-baked treats. 

She didn’t read much of what the Chili Peppers read. When she wanted to escape it was usually into another time, where women wore beautiful gowns and lived on large estates. Where men fought duels, and words of love rolled off their tongues like poetry. But she also enjoyed a good contemporary story, especially if the hero was a millionaire. With a yacht. And a little getaway place in Italy. She was a closed-door girl, preferring love scenes that faded to black like a classic movie. Although she’d been known to give in to the temptation to peek through a keyhole or two . . . and wish. Like she did with every book she read. Sighs and yearnings. Happily-ever-afters. Sighs and yearning, that summed up her love life. Actually, nonexistent summed it up much better.

“Okay, so I like spice,” Scarlet said. “So, sue me. But we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about what this man is doing to you. To all of us.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do. I’m trying to run a business,” Alice protested. Even though she was only half owner, HEA Books took up all her time and energy. “Anyway,

one angry man isn’t going to affect the bookstore. Almost all our customers are women.”

“Well, Parker Black is affecting men and they’re affecting your customers. Like me! That’s why you need to take this guy on, to fight on behalf of women,” said Scarlet. “This man is a two-legged

virus. He needs to be eradicated.”

“Why don’t you take him on?” Alice argued.

“Because I don’t have the clout you do. You’re the expert on romance.”

On books about romance. There was a big difference.

About the Author

Visit her website at www.sheilasplace.com. 

Connect with her on social media at:

╰┈➤Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/p/Sheila-Roberts-100044180452595/ 

╰┈➤Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sheilarobertswriter/?hl=en 

╰┈➤BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/sheila-roberts  

╰┈➤TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@sheilarobertswriter 


Sponsored By:

⭐Pump Up Your Book Virtual Book Tour Kick Off⭐The Man Next Door by Sheila Roberts #RomanticComedy

Trouble ensues when a mother and daughter spy on their hunky and mysterious new neighbor in this re-imagined telling of the classic movie Rear Window.

 

Title: THE MAN NEXT DOOR

Author: Sheila Roberts

Publisher: MIRA

Pages: 368

Genre: Fiction/Romance

Format: Hardcover, Paperback, Kindle, Audiobook

Love in the Time of Serial Killers meets The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window in this delightful romp about a recently broke divorcee who moves in with her house-bound mother only to spend their days spying on her grumpy, mysterious, and sexy new neighbor.

Zona never thought her life was headed this way, but here she is, newly divorced and moving back in with her mom, Louise. After her gambling addicted ex-husband lost all of their savings, including their daughter’s college fund, she doesn’t really have a choice. She’s cutting every coupon she can and she’s going to help put her daughter through nursing school, even if it kills her. 

This wasn’t Louise’s plan, either, laid up at home with a broken leg after one unfortunate tumble on the senior singles cruise she’d been looking forward to for months. But if she’s going to spend all her time at home, at least she’s got her daughter there with her. And there’s some hot new eye candy next door to distract them both from their troubles. He appears to be single and just around Zona’s age. Could his arrival be the universe making amends for everything it’s put her through? 

Maybe the universe isn’t feeling as generous as Louise hoped. There’s something lurking under that mans surface charm, something…dangerous? And who’s the woman they can hear him in all-out shouting matches with on the other side of the fence? When the woman seems to disappear without a trace, imaginations run wild. Or at least, Zona hopes it’s just her mother’s imagination… 

The Man Next Door is available at Amazon.



Book Excerpt

  

The House

The house on Glenwood Avenue had taken on an air of darkness. Not simply because the previous owners had painted its adobe outside dark gray and trimmed it with black, although that hadn't helped. It was what had happened inside the house even before they moved in. 

Elder abuse. Louise Hartman, who lived next door, had been the first to spot it. The single man rarely let his grandmother out, and he never let anyone in, no matter how many cookies they came with. He was the only unsociable person on the whole street. Louise had known early on that he was hiding secrets.

But there are things you can’t hide from people who pay attention. And Louise paid attention. The curtains were always drawn, and the son rarely left the house. Neither did the old woman who had arrived with him, not even to care for the roses which were starting to wither from lack of attention. Lawn service had been stopped and weeds were popping up everywhere. Neglect! cried the house. Often old cars with nefarious looking drivers showed up after dark. Drugs, for sure. The place sent off keep away vibes and the neighbors all did. Including Louise. A woman living alone had to be careful.

One day the old woman in the house next door got out. Louise had been checking her mail and saw the poor soul. She was skinny as a wraith, wearing dirty women’s pajama bottoms and an equally dirty men’s t-shirt. Her hair hung in greasy, gray strands, and when Louise hurried over to say hello she saw the woman had bruises on her arms. Yes, older people had thin skin, and they tended to bruise easily, but this woman had too many to have just bumped against a counter. When Louise asked about them the woman had looked mildly puzzled for a moment, then replied that little Sammy was strong. 

Louise had seen little Sammy. He was a mammoth. And obviously brutal. Louise had called the authorities, and it wasn’t long before Sammy was no longer around, and neither was the old woman. According to the rumor mill, a relative had stepped in and moved her across the country and put the house up for sale. 

Then had come the middle-aged couple with the dog. Happily married, both working, but with time for a chat by the mailbox. One daughter, married, about to give birth to the first grandchild. Perfect. They would bring back the happiness that had lived in the house when Louise’s daughter Zona was growing up and laughing children had run back and forth between the two homes. 

But tragedy struck only a few months later. The wife died suddenly. No one knew quite how. The funeral was small and private, the wife cremated, and the man gone almost instantly. The house went on the market again. And sat, waiting, like the neighbors, to see what would happen next. People came and looked at it, but it remained empty. 

Louise didn’t blame them. A miasma enshrouded the place and she could almost feel … a presence hovering over there, peering over the property line, whenever she went up her own front walk. Her daughter insisted Louise was imagining things. A house was just a house. It didn’t have a life of its own. And no, Zona hadn’t felt any creepy vibes since she’d moved in with Louise. Of course, Zona was dealing with so much in her own life she probably wouldn’t recognize a creepy vibe even if it came up to her and rattled her bones. 

Could a house absorb the emotions of the people who lived in them? Did bad vibes linger long after those people had moved out? Once infected, did that house become a magnet for more of the same?

Louise hoped not. She watched as the realtor put a sold sign on the front lawn. Maybe the new owners would dispel the gloom. Maybe she wouldn’t shiver every time she walked past the place.

Or maybe this unsettled feeling she was getting was a premonition.

– Excerpted from The Man Next Door by Sheila Roberts, MIRA, 2025. Reprinted with permission.

About the Author

Sheila Roberts is a USA Today and Publishers Weekly bestseller – and a fan favorite. She has seen her novels turned into movies for the Lifetime, Hallmark, and Great American Family channels. Before settling into her writing career, Sheila owned a singing telegram company and played in a band. She is happily married, and when she’s not traveling, she splits her time between the Pacific Northwest and Southern California. You can visit her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100044180452595 and Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/sheilarobertswriter/. 

Her latest book is the romantic comedy, The Man Next Door.




Sponsored By:

🎈Happy Book Birthday to 🧁THE MERRY MATCHMAKER by Sheila Roberts🎈 #bookbirthday

 


We're thrilled to announce the release of Sheila Roberts' new women's fiction/romance novel, THE MERRY MATCHMAKER today! To help celebrate, we are asking our readers if you can please pretty please pick up a copy at Amazon and come back and tell us how you liked it? Or, leave a review at Amazon! 
 

Congratulations, Sheila, on your new release, The Merry Matchmaker!




Is Now Available in Hardcover, Paperback, Kindle & Audiobook)!
 





 

Title: The Merry Matchmaker
Author: Sheila Roberts
Publisher: MIRA
Pages: 336
Genre: Women's Fiction/Romance

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, this joyful Christmas romp tells the story of a woman who can’t stop trying to help everyone around her find their happily-ever-after—even when her help leads to disaster.

Frankie Lane knows what’s best for just about everyone but herself. Her divorced sister, Stef, who is too young to give up on love; her shy employee, Elinor; and her daughter, Natalie, who works in Frankie’s shop, Holiday Happiness, and really needs to start her own business selling the delectable chocolates she makes at home; even her best friend, Viola, who is trying to renovate her old Victorian. Frankie knows she could help all of them, if they’d just let her—and if all of her help didn’t end in utter disaster.

Then there’s Mitch Howard, the owner of the local hardware store. They’ve been friends ever since Frankie opened her store, nine years earlier. He got her through the nightmare when she lost her husband in a freak accident, and he’s her favorite shoulder to cry on. He’s been divorced for years, and it’s such a waste of man! Mitch is the fittest, finest man Frankie knows. He’s easygoing, wise and kindhearted. Mitch needs someone. And she’s determined to help him find that someone—whether he likes it or not.



 


WHO KNEW THAT THE WORD HELP COULD TURN INTO A whole other four-letter word? Not Frankie Lane, that was for sure.

Although it wasn’t help that her friend Viola muttered when the two women stood looking at the pile of wallpaper that had slid down the wall and onto the floor in the dining room of Viola’s fixer-upper Victorian. The section Frankie had put up, not Viola’s.

“I don’t understand what happened,” Frankie said, gaping at it.

Viola heaved a sigh.

Everything had looked fine before they’d stepped into the kitchen in search of wine to celebrate the completed job. By the time they were back in the dining room to toast, the wall-

paper was toast. Soggy toast. Frankie had to get back to her shop, and here was…this. Obviously, she couldn’t leave her friend with such a mess.

“I’ll just put this back up again,” Frankie said, hurrying over to the sodden pile.

Viola rushed after her. “No! Don’t touch anything. I know you want to help.”

“I do!”

“But please don’t.”

Ouch. That hurt.

This had all been Frankie’s great idea. “You have to have wallpaper in an old Victorian,” she’d said. “It will look so cute with the wainscoting,” she’d said as she showed her friend

what she’d found online.

“I don’t think wallpapering is your forte,” Viola said in an attempt to remove the sting. “Anyway, you should get back to the shop. We can drink our wine this evening. Terrill won’t

be home until the wee hours.”

“Are you sure? I can get it right this time, and I hate to leave you with this mess. It won’t work for your blog.”

“Sure, it will. Every home improvement project has set-backs. This will make my finished project look more impressive. Anyway, your mom’s probably ready to throttle you by

now for leaving her in charge for so long.”

“Are you kidding? Mom loves being in charge, and I haven’t been gone that long. But you’re right. I should get back. How about I make this up to you by picking up a pizza for us?”

“Excellent idea,” Viola approved. “And ask Adele not to hate me for stealing you on Small Business Saturday. I forgot about that when Terrill deserted me to go to work.”

“It’s okay. We weren’t that busy. Yesterday was our big day.”

But Viola was right. Frankie had a business to run, and she needed to get back to it.

She got into her Prius and headed off to beautiful downtown Carol, where she had her shop, Holiday Happiness.

Thanksgiving was over, and the shop, which featured all manner of Christmas decor, had done a whopping business the day before with customers crowding in to take advantage of

the Black Friday sale, check out the latest Christopher Radko ornament or pick up an Advent calendar. Or simply chat.

Downtown was now decorated for Christmas, thanks to all the shop owners and the chamber of commerce getting busy Friday morning. The lampposts were ringed with red plastic ribbon tied in bows. Swags of greenery and fat old-fashioned lights hung over shop windows, and the big banner strung across Main Street announced A Carol Christmas—Santa Walk December 21.

The Santa Walk had been Frankie’s brainchild, and this would be its third year. All the downtown shops would be offering coupons and special discounts and passing out treats.

Santa would come to town and set up in the town square gazebo. Mrs. Claus would be on hand to accompany him during the Santa parade and to help greet the children who were

excited to see him as well as their parents.

Frankie had been Mrs. Claus both previous years and was looking forward to a repeat performance. After all, she was Mrs. Holiday Happiness.

She didn’t go right into her shop. Instead, she walked next door to Handy’s Hardware, which would be the perfect place to get an apology prezzie for Viola. With all the work she and

her policeman husband, Terrill, were doing on their house, the hardware store had become their home away from home.

Terrill happened to be cruising by in his patrol car. He stopped and let down his window and called, “How’d it go?

Am I still Mr. DooDoo?”

Frankie snickered. “Maybe. She wound up calling me to help her finish.”

“Did you?”

“Sort of but not really. I’m on pizza patrol.”

“All the works?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied. “If you’re lucky, we’ll save you some.”

He gave her a thumbs-up and cruised on down the street. Pizza would go a long way in making up for the wallpaper mess she’d left her friend with. Hopefully a Handy’s Hardware gift card would do the rest.

The hardware store was ready for Christmas. Someone had made fresh popcorn in the circus popcorn cart, and the aroma made her mouth water. No popcorn for her today, though.

She was on a mission.

She moved past the display of artificial trees and the shelves of Christmas lights and garlands and went straight to the checkout, where she selected a card with a hammer on it and Handy Holidays written above it in red. She spotted her pal Mitch Howard in the paint section and, after purchasing the card, went over to say a quick hi.

A hefty fifty something man in Carhartts ogled her as she walked past. She wasn’t dressed to inspire ogles in her jeans and boots and the old letterman jacket that had belonged to her husband, Ike, but she was still good-looking enough to attract attention. And she appreciated an occasional ogle (as long as it didn’t turn into a leer).

Fifty had been a hard birthday. Even though she was fit and her hair was still a rich auburn thanks to her hairdresser, she felt the passing of time like an insult with those tiny wrinkles

digging into her face and the gray hairs that were constantly multiplying and kept her going to the salon. When it came to aging, Mother Nature was not very nice to her daughters.

But oh well. What did it matter, really? Frankie wasn’t in the market for anyone to replace Ike. He was irreplaceable, and it had broken her heart and shredded her world when she

lost him four years earlier. The kid who’d taken him out had been texting and driving and had felt terrible, but feeling terrible after you’ve killed someone wasn’t enough to bring the

person back.

The community had come alongside her, offering sympathy, hugs, meals and cards, and her family and friends had checked in on her often. She’d felt their love, but nothing could replace the love she’d lost. She soldiered on, keeping the shop going, keeping her life going, reminding herself to be thankful for the people she still had left—her mother, her sister, her

daughter, Natalie, and Natalie’s little family.

And Mitch Howard, who owned Handy’s. He had been there for her both when she first started her business and again during that awful time after Ike died.

“You’ve got this,” he’d said seven years earlier after she’d signed the lease for her shop and then instantly experienced a confidence crisis. He’d said it again when he stopped by Holiday Happiness a month after Ike’s memorial and she’d confessed that she didn’t think she could go on.

“Yes, you can,” he’d assured her. “You’re a strong woman.”

He kept stopping in, often with a latte from The Coffee Stop just a couple doors down from their businesses. Next thing she knew, she was returning the favor.

It was only natural they would become close. They already were friends. She and Ike had known Mitch before she’d opened her shop and become business neighbors with him.

Of course, everyone with a house knew Mitch.

He’d taken over the hardware store after his father retired and his parents moved to Arizona. Mitch himself had moved away for a while, but he returned and settled right back in,

working again in the same store that had employed him as a teenager. Eventually he became the owner.

He was Frankie’s favorite pal, always up for helping her test out a new cop show or watching a Seahawks game together.

Like her, he was single; unlike her, he was divorced with an ex- wife who was ancient history. He was a great guy—fun-loving and kind and easygoing. And handsome—slim but broad-shouldered, with a perfect square jaw and dark hair turning to salt and pepper at the temples. Then there was that lopsided smile that her mother once said made her think of Harrison Ford. When he was young…oh, baby!

(Mom had been in touch with her inner cougar for years.)

Mitch was probably the fittest fifty-eight-year-old man in town. Him being single was a waste of man, if you asked Frankie. Not that he had.

“Leave the poor man alone,” Ike had said whenever she’d talked about finding someone for Mitch. “He’s smart enough to figure out what he wants and go for it.”

Still, she’d persisted in trying to set Mitch up because Frankie was convinced that, when it came to love, very few men were smart.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” her mother had said. This was after Frankie had shared her profound observation a few months earlier, after her latest attempt to help Mitch had failed.

“It’s different for me,” Frankie said.

Unlike Mitch and his ex, there had been no parting by mutual consent. Frankie didn’t need to try again and do better. She’d had a great marriage only to have her man snatched violently from her. One minute Ike had been off to go for a run and the next he was gone. His death had left a hole in her heart that refused to completely close. She doubted it ever

would, and even if it did, she had no desire to put herself in a position of facing such a loss again.

“Hey there,” Mitch greeted her as she joined him. “How’s the wallpapering going?”

“Hers or mine?”

He cocked his head, studied her. “Let me guess. Something went wrong.”

“Only on my side of the wall. Doing penance.” She held up the gift card, and he chuckled. “And I’m taking pizza over after I close up.”

“Can’t screw that up,” he said.

She frowned. “I hope not. I suck.”

“Nah, you don’t. It’s not easy to hang wallpaper. Anyway, you have other talents.”

“Like?”

“Helping people.”

The way she’d helped Viola. Frankie gave a snort.

“You’re good at making things happen.” He pointed out the window to where the banner hung. “The Santa Walk’s been a big success. People love you, Frankie. Not everyone

can say that.”

“It’s nice of you to say it.”

“Just speakin’ the truth.”

“Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Call it an early Christmas present. We still on for Cop Stop tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ve already got the chips and salsa.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I’ll bring the beer.”

A blonde in black leggings, thigh-high boots and a pink wool coat strolled over. “Hi, Mitch,” she purred. “Can you help me pick out some paint for my bedroom?”

Gack, thought Frankie in disgust.

“Be right with you,” Mitch said with a smile.

“You can do better than that,” Frankie said as the woman sashayed away.

“Yeah? How?”

She could tell by that lopsided grin that he was teasing her.

She pointed a finger at him. “You need help.”

“There’s a lot of things I need, Frankie, but you helping my love life isn’t one of them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go help my customer,” he added with a wink. “Try not to be jealous.”

“You should be so lucky,” she said to his retreating back.

“Stubborn man,” she muttered, and left to go next door to her shop.

Honestly, Mitch could have his pick of women. He shouldn’t be living alone, eating takeout and tuna fish sandwiches. Getting hounded by predators in pink coats. What if one of them

succeeded? Mitch needed someone special, someone with some depth to her, someone who would see him as more than a big slice of beefcake. He really needed a guiding hand. Hers.

Of course, whoever he wound up with would have to share because Frankie had no intention of giving up her best buddy.

All the more reason to help him find his perfect Mrs. Claus.


 
 


 
 





This birthday greeting is brought to you by the kind folks at Pump Up Your Book. May we send our heartfelt congratulations to Sheila and her new release!