Everything about the settings in this book are dreamy - white Christmas, passenger liner, Europe. All beautiful, exotic locations. It was great fun to write. And I loved working with a wounded heroine - my favourite. Rachelle's wounds are partly self-inflicted - she's too hard on herself and hasn't come to terms with her past mistakes. Don't we all suffer from regret at some stage in our lives but it becomes dangerous when it stops us from opening our heart to love.
Blurb:
Rachelle runs a little wedding chapel on the Coderica Passenger Liner. Two years on the passenger liner haven’t helped her find peace from past mistakes. Ray brings his girlfriend on the Coderica’s grand cruise to Europe. When his plans to marry her in the little chapel go horribly wrong and the relationship fails, Ray and Rachelle are drawn to each other like moths to a flame. Romance blossoms in Europe, culminating on Christmas Day. But the cruise ends and Rachelle isn’t sure she’s ready to leave the Coderica with Ray. Will the memory of their white Christmas kiss be strong enough to bring them together forever?
Excerpt:
“I’m thinking of ending the whole relationship.”
The woman walked to the fire and placed her
hands near its warmth. “The air by that window is cold.”
“The weirdest thing is that I’m actually enjoying
being away from her.”
“Would you like another drink?”
It was actually humorous how she avoided the
conversation. He shook his head. “I’d like to get to my ship cabin safely without
toppling overboard.”
“Whatever.”
“Are you feeling relaxed?”
She shrugged.
He couldn’t bear it any longer. In a moment, he
rose and moved to her, placing his hands on her sagging shoulders. “What did
you run away from?”
“I’m sorry?” She turned to him, her eyes
haunted, cheeks flushed with embarrassment—or was it the heat of the fire?
“I can see it in your eyes…the hurt…the
confusion.”
She pulled away and attempted to walk back to
the window, but he grabbed her hand, desperate for her to open up and release the
pent-up, albeit negative, energy. The force of their opposite movements made
her spin around to face him, her soft cheeks inches from his gaze. Her lips
were pursed and pale pink—no lipstick, no cracks, just smooth and plump. A warm
vanilla scent wafted from her hair, mingling with the lazy smell of liqueur and
wood smoke. In a moment, he’d tucked her up against him, and he’d moved his
lips onto hers. The pressure he gave her surprised even him, as also the need
to remain there, locked in a kiss in a smoky bar in Spain when his future wife
stood vigil in a hospital back home.
He expected her to pull away and break the
contact. Waited for her scathing comment to add fuel to his guilt. Instead, her
whole body softened in his grasp, making him unable to retreat. He explored her
mouth with simple movement, which she mirrored. They were instinctively in
tune, and the arousal he experienced sent shock waves through him. It felt so
intense that he was now convinced Desia wasn’t the only woman who stirred him
to such passion. In fact, this felt far deeper and more intense than Desia’s…
“I have to go.” She pulled away and turned from
him, grabbing her jacket in haste.
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