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New Orleans Rush
by Kelly Siskind
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Falling for your surly boss is a rotten idea.
Letting him saw you in half is even worse…
Beatrice Baker may be a struggling artist, but she believes all hardships have
silver linings…until she follows her boyfriend to New Orleans and
finds him with another woman. Instead of turning those lemons into
lemonade, she drinks lemon drop martinis and keys the wrong man’s car.
Now she works for Huxley Marlow of the Marvelous Marlow Boys, getting
shoved in boxes as an on-stage magician’s assistant. A cool job for
some, but Bea’s been coerced into the role to cover her debt. She
also
maybe fantasizes about her boss’s adept hands and what else they can do.
She absolutely will not fall for him, or kiss him senseless. Until she
does. The scarred, enigmatic Huxley has unwittingly become her muse,
unlocking her artistic dry spell, but his vague nightly activities
are highly suspect. The last time Beatrice trusted a man, her bank
account got drained and she almost got arrested. Surely this can’t
end
that badly…right?
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A small-town girl at heart, Kelly moved from the city to open a cheese
shop with her husband in northern Ontario. When she’s not neck deep
in cheese or out hiking, you can find her, notepad in hand,
scribbling down one of the many plot bunnies bouncing around in her
head. She laughs at her own jokes and has been known to eat her
feelings—gummy bears heal all. She’s also an incurable romantic,
devouring romance novels into the wee hours of the morning.
2015 Golden Heart® Finalist
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Exclusive Excerpt

Exclusive Excerpt: HOOKED ON TROUBLE by Kelly Siskind

Hooked on Trouble by Kelly Siskind

We devoured this excerpt in record speed. Hooked On Trouble by Kelly Siskind has the pacing of a really great soap opera! And here’s your taste:


His large hand presses against my knee under the table. “Can we talk?”

Jesus, his touch. It’s the first time I’ve felt the weight of his palm on me since Aspen. It’s heavy. Huge. Callused. Instinctually I shift forward, my body no longer mine to command. He doesn’t move his hand. Just his thumb. It presses harder, dragging downward. I grip my armrests to keep from sliding to the floor. He stares at me, waiting for my answer.

Yes. No. Maybe. I choose silence.

The way our lives are entrenched with our friends, I’ll have to spend time with him, and I can’t keep pretending I can block him out. Moving here was about starting fresh, which means letting go of this grudge. But talking about Aspen could stir up more feelings, the same way the experience spurred my need to find Rose. If we talk about our time in the hot tub, it could unhinge me further.

Our waiter arrives to take our order, and Nico’s thumb moves again, a tiny brush, his skin against mine, sending a pulse hooked-on-trouble-quote-graphicbetween my thighs. My sanity plummets. I shout, “Chicken,” like a lunatic as I push away from the table.

Nico’s hand slides from my knee, but his eyes don’t waver. I feel his gaze on my back as I hurry to the bathroom. The second I get inside, I close the door and lean against it, thankful it’s not a public room with several stalls. I take a few deep breaths.

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