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The Designers Bride by Lynn Chantale

The Designer’s Bride #MFRWhooks

For cosmetics heiress Elisabeth Bach, finding the right man hasn’t been easy, especially when her father is bent on arranging her love life for his own twisted purposes. When she falls for fashion designer Jordan Carlisle, she knows she’s met The One, and she’ll do anything to keep their relationship secret from her father’s schemes.

Jordan Carlisle has been waiting a long time for a chance to date Elisabeth and he’s determined to make her his wife. Will a Valentine’s Day proposal be enough to keep her or will his checkered past destroy his future?

 


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Excerpt

“Are you playing matchmaker again, Dylan?”

He chuckled. “No ma’am. He saw you sitting alone.”

“I think I can take it from here,” a smooth, velvety voice interrupted.

Dylan nodded and backed away. Elisabeth straightened a little in her chair. Her breath stuck in her throat at the intensity of the newcomer’s stare. His long slow perusal left her body simmering.

His jet black hair was cut close, the smooth hairline tapering to neatly trimmed sideburns. Otherwise, his rugged face was clean-shaven. He smiled and her eyes were drawn to his full, sexy mouth. For a moment, she wondered how his lips would feel pressed against hers. Desire flooded her veins.

“Jordan Carlisle.” He offered his hand. The oversized watch on his wrist winked in the dim light, vying for attention with his gold cufflinks.

She accepted his hand. “Elisabeth.” She snapped her gaze to his at the crackle of electricity between them. He held her hand a second too long and flirtation gleamed in the depths of his coffee-colored eyes.

“Mind if I join you?” He waved to the vacant chair across from hers.

She shook her head and bit back a sigh when his biceps flexed against the dark silk of his suit jacket. He unbuttoned his coat and sat down.

“I hate dining alone,” he said, smiling apologetically.

“I do too. I was just about to leave.” She studied him from beneath her lashes before meeting his eyes a second time. He seemed familiar to her, yet she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen him. “Have we met before?”

He smiled, wide and easy, and her heart fluttered in anticipation.

“Not formally. I’m a friend of your brother’s. We went to college together.”

His dark good looks and devil-may-care eyes slid into place in her memory. The photo in her brother’s room, of the lacrosse team. Jordan had been the captain.

“You and Drew played lacrosse.”

He nodded. “How is Andrew? It’s been a few months since we’ve seen each other.”

“Out of town at the moment. At a conference.” She reached for her water glass and Dylan reappeared with a second menu. “I’ll have to tell Andrew we spoke.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Jordan smiled again and she melted.

She shook her head. “He thinks I should get out more, but my father has a way of sabotaging my love life.” She sipped her water.

He regarded her a moment, avid interest shining in his eyes. “You are definitely worth protecting.”

Heat crept into her cheeks from his scrutiny as well as the compliment. “You’re pretty suave, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a smooth laugh that reminded her of warm fudge. “When it suits me.”

“Like now?”

He inclined his head.

“And my father knows nothing about you?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

She picked up a menu. “Let’s keep it that way.”


 

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These Shoes #MFRWauthor

Walk a mile in my shoes, please. Or is it put yourself in someone else’s shoes? Either way, the phrase encourages you to look at the world through someone else’s eyes, or point of view, (POV for short). Not only is this important in everyday life, but equally important in writing.

 

Early in my career, I was known as a “head-hopper.” This is someone who jumps from one character’s point of view to the other. After all, I was emulating bestselling authors I loved to read. Now that I’ve learned a few things. “Head-hopping” is actually called an Omniscient point of view.

 

I choose to write in third person POV, which only gives you the thoughts of the hero, heroine, or the villain if there is one. So if one of those characters don’t see what’s happening, I can’t write it. Think of it like being in a room by yourself. You can’t see someone walking behind you, but you CAN hear the scuff of shoes or shuffle of feet.

 

The majority of my work is done in third person. I’ll be honest, third person isn’t really a preference. it was a choice. And as I’ve grown as a writer, I prefer third person omniscient. When I read stories in which this technique is used it gives the plot a deeper texture. Think of the character who professes his love to his wife. Wife says the same thing but thinks something contrary. Not only do you have conflict, but there’s an elevated level of tension in knowing that the wife has this secret, but how and when will the husband know the truth?

 

There are many choices of POV: first person, second person, (truthfully, I haven’t seen this one in action), third person, omniscient, and third person omniscient. I’m sure there are more out there, but those I’ve mentioned are the most familiar. So before I write a scene, I need to walk a mile in my character’s shoes, whether they’re stilettos or a pair of Timberlands. I need to know how they’ll react to their situation. As for me, give me a comfy pair of Skechers any day. 

 

“Indulge Your Inner Romance”

#LynnChantale #Author #Writing

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What had she agreed to? #MFRWhooks

Seducing His Wife 

By Lynn Chantale

 

Haunted by nightmares, Sheridan Sinclair just wants to get through one night without reliving the terrible accident that led to her miscarriage. And she longs for the arms of the man who betrayed her. Matthew Sinclair has always loved his wife, but when she refuses to speak to him after her accident, he's left to wonder what went wrong. When a stolen kiss ignites their forgotten passion, he'll use their love as a means to get her home and in his bed again. Will a husband’s plan of seduction be enough to heal a wife’s broken heart?

Excerpt:

 

Matthew rubbed his eyes. Sheridan always had the ability to make him ache. From the first moment he saw her, she exhilarated him. Even after all these months, she made him feel alive and all was right with his world again.

 

But something about her was wrong and not just the brace he glimpsed on her wrist. She wasn’t the same Sheridan. Something traumatic happened to his wife. Maybe it was the accident, maybe not, but the tragedy was enough for her to avoid him, enough to lose weight. He tried to comprehend the possibilities, but he wasn’t the type of man to jump to conclusions. He leaned over and picked up the phone, breathed deep, and dialed her number before he lost his nerve.

 

* * * *

 

Sheridan laid her needlepoint on her lap and picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello?”
 
“Did I wake you?” The rich timbre of Matthew’s baritone voice sent tingles down her spine.
 
She wiggled her toes in excitement. He actually called. “No. I couldn’t sleep.”
 
“You have a moment?”
 
“Yeah.” She picked up her needlepoint again, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear.
 
“I’m working on a presentation, and I haven’t found my attention-getter.”
 
“What’s it about?”
 

“Employee turnover.”
 

“Start with the amount of money a company loses each time they have to train someone who doesn’t stay for more than ninety days.”
 

He chuckled. “That’s not really why I called.”
 

“I know. You’ve had your presentation done for weeks, but I’m glad you called, anyway.”
 

“Really?”
 

She swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to admit she was glad to hear from him, but the words had already been said, and she wasn’t prepared to lie to him. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve made my decision.”
 

“Okay.”
 

“I’ll do what you ask on one condition.”
 

“I’m listening.”
 
“Don’t ever ask me why I left.”
 
He remained silent for so long she pulled the phone from her ear and checked the display screen to make sure he hadn’t disconnected the call.
 
“But…” He fell silent again. “Fine. I’ll agree if you share the same bed with me. We’re not doing separate rooms and all that crap.”
 
She almost laughed. “What is this, quid pro quo?”
 
“I get what I want, and you get what you want. What’s the harm in that?”
 
At the moment, she couldn’t see any harm. All that mattered was he not ask her again why she left. “None, I guess. What time?”
 
“Does tomorrow afternoon work for you?”
 
“All right.”
 
“I’ll drop the keys off at the store before I go to work. What time will you be there?”
 
“Any time after six. I have inventory,” she responded.
 
“So early? And here I am keeping you awake. I’m sorry.”
 
“Don’t be.” She would’ve been up anyway, and she enjoyed talking to him, despite everything. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”
 
“Goodnight. Oh, and Sheridan?”
 
“Yes?”
 
“Thanks.”
 
The line went dead. Sheridan slowly returned the phone to the cradle and turned the ringer off. The soft smile she wore moments ago faded. She was going back home. She clasped a hand over her pounding heart. What had she agreed to? Panic seized her and shook her hard. She and Matthew would be in the same bed. Had she lost her mind? She breathed deep.
 
The situation wasn’t permanent. She was merely helping Carolyn so she could get Sean back as quickly as possible. The thought steadied her. And speaking of Carolyn…  

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