Today, we have a Book Blitz to kick off celebrating the release of Pasko Na, My Love: A Holiday Romance Anthology, featuring acclaimed and bestselling Filipino American authors—Elle Cruz, Maan Gabriel, Maida Malby, Mia Hopkins, Sarah Smith, and Tif Marcelo! To celebrate this new release, we have various excerpts from these stories AND a blitz-wide giveaway to share! So... Be sure to check it out and grab this holiday read NOW!
It was late. No one would have guessed how late it was, because the party was still in full swing. The wedding of Ron Palacio and Aditi Wilson had been a raging success. The open bar might have had a little something to do with it.
Despite the series of doors open to the stunning view of the beach under a moonlit sky, the heat pervaded. All those bodies packed onto the dance floor of the resort ballroom intensified the humid summer night atmosphere. Travis wandered outside with an ice-cold bottle of water in his hand. He had intended to take a brief walk down to the shore, dip his feet in a little, and then maybe head back to his bungalow.
The sight of a woman lying motionless under a cluster of palm trees drew his attention. Fear thundered in his heart, but once he drew near, he could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she took in steady breaths.
It was Sophie.
His heart twisted in agony. God, she was everything. She was beauty and vice. Joy and terror. Pleasure and ruin. She was his best friend’s little sister and therefore stood for everything forbidden to him. If that was true, then why did he find himself coming closer instead of walking away?
She opened her eyes and stared up at him.
“It’s you,” she said.
Travis didn’t respond. He looked down into her face, trying to ignore the way the deep neckline of her dress and the short skirt affected him in the most inappropriate of ways.
“Are you okay?” he asked, fighting his dirty thoughts with every inch of his being. “Do you need me to walk you back inside?”
It was Sophie’s turn to pause. Instead of answering, she held out her hand. Travis grasped it and helped her to a sitting position. He loosened his grip, but Sophie didn’t let go.
“Sit with me,” she said.
Travis sat. They were about six inches apart on the sand, their legs extended in front of them. Travis handed her the bottle of water.
“Took advantage of the open bar, huh?” he said.
“It was my idea, you know.” Sophie twisted the cap off and took a dainty sip. “Ron didn’t want it at first. He’s super kuripot, but with a lot of threatening, I finally persuaded him.”
Sophie was buzzed. It was unlike her to use Tagalog words, especially ones describing her brother’s frugalness. She was a pleasant, happy kind of drunk who swayed gently back and forth in her seat. She wasn’t the kind that went off on slurred diatribes and stumbled around everywhere, threatening to topple over with every precarious step. No. Despite her hooded eyes, joy illuminated them from the inside out. It made Travis happy knowing she was in the moment.
She scooted closer and leaned her head on Travis’s shoulder.
He froze. Everything in his rational mind told him to put distance between them. Unfortunately, the rest of his body wanted nothing more than to get as close to Sophie as humanly possible. His rational mind was effectively outnumbered.
“Love … is a sham. Love is a sham,” I say under my breath like a chant. I remind myself of this every single day.
When you fall in love early in life, chances are it will not make it past your prime. Life will consume you, ambitions will redirect you, and love—yeah, it takes a back seat.
That is the story of my life with Drew—Andrew Emmanuel Moore Hizon, the illustrious thirty-six-year-old senator from California. So, when I received a call from him last night, ten years after our painful breakup, all the suppressed feelings didn’t just come tumbling in. They frightened me, again. Why does he need to talk to me after all these years, anyway?
Sitting by myself at a Georgetown bar, far from the Capitol and from prying eyes, my palms sweaty amid the cold winter weather and my insides a mess, I wait uneasily. My cheeks are still cold from my walk from work, hoping the chill in the air would relax my nerves some. It didn’t.
Instead, my hands tremble incessantly. I’ve not seen this man in a decade except for accidental flickers on television, which I almost always turn off immediately.
As if perfectly timed, I turn my head toward the door, and in he walks. The world stops as I process this, seeing him again—looking perfect in his dark blue suit, royal blue tie, and that flawless body still the same from when he once was mine.
Mine?! I roll my eyes at this thought. He looks exactly as I remember—chiseled jawline, perfect cheekbones, and amazingly bronze skin thanks to his Filipino roots. He bites his lower lip upon meeting my eyes.
I sigh. The sight of him still takes my breath away. Like I’m back to that unsuspecting law student that I was, idealistic to a fault, thinking that love could withstand the undetermined current of living. I smile and give him a small hand wave. Now, I’m self-conscious. I check my newish dark suit that I paired with red pumps. It’s not bad, but it’s not strikingly attractive either. Oh, well. I roll my eyes again. “Here we go,” I huff under my breath, the chant still lingering in my head: “Love is a sham … a sham …”
“Hello,” they said at the same time.
He smiled and walked forward, holding out his hand. “I’m Rafa. I apologize for dropping in without an appointment. I was driving by, saw the billboard, and was curious about the name.”
Her expression of wariness left, replaced by a warm smile that transformed her face from merely lovely to downright stunning. “Welcome to Hacienda Luz, Rafa. I’m Vida. This is Jen, our estate ambassador. We appreciate your visit on this rainy afternoon.”
The hand that firmly shook his had long fingers, neatly trimmed nails with clear polish, and a soft palm. He hadn’t wanted to let it go. He only did when she pulled away to point at the glass of red wine the other woman was holding out.
He’d been so engrossed with Vida he hadn’t noticed the estate ambassador move to and from the bar on the far end of the room to pour him a welcome drink.
“This is our Cabernet Sauvignon from the 2013 harvest. One of our best years since my grandparents, Naty and Robert Moore, started operations almost fifty years ago. It’s a small taste of the exceptional quality of wine we produce,” Vida said.
Rafa accepted the glass. “Thank you,” he said to the younger woman who smiled and returned to the bar, leaving him with Vida by the reception counter, pleasing Rafa greatly.
It pleased him even more to follow Vida to the glass-enclosed veranda with its large gas fire pit and a one-hundred-eighty-degree view of the property. Even without grapes on the vines, the colors earthy and predominantly brown, the Hacienda Luz vineyard was a striking sight. But no matter its grandeur, it couldn’t hold his attention for long. Not when all he wanted to see was Vida’s beautiful face.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Vida asked.
There was no ring on her left finger, so he thought he’d take a shot. “Yes,” he said, openly staring at her.
Her lips formed a word that Rafa couldn’t hear. He could have sworn it was “smooth.” He gave her a cheeky smile.
“Aren’t you going to try the wine? I want to know what you think of it.”
He swirled the dark red liquid and brought the glass to his nose. After an appreciative sniff, he took a sip. “Hmm. It’s ripe, savory, and yet sweet. Smooth and complex. I’m enticed to find out more.” He took larger gulp, then another until he finished the glass. His eyes held her expectant gaze as he declared his final assessment. “Sexy.”
Vida’s cheeks turned a lovely dusky pink. Her eyes flicked to his lips. “I think so too,” she said.
“Wait. Let’s have a truce, okay?”
“A truce?” I almost laugh.
“A time-out, a break, whatever you want to call it. Then you can go back to hating me for something that I did five years ago.”
I grit my teeth, ready to go off on Mason, but he speaks before I can.
“We have to at least try to get along. This is for your grandmother, right? I want her to have the best party.”
His hazel eyes go warm when he mentions her. So does his tone. Like he actually cares about doing a good job for her, even though he doesn’t even know her. It’s so disorienting that for a split second I’m heartened. I shake my head slightly and refocus.
“Right,” I say. “I want everything to go as perfectly as possible for her.”
Mason nods once and sticks his hand out at me. “So truce?”
I squint at his hand, then up at him. “Temporary truce.”
The second break room door, the one that led to the outside, opened with a bang, and a figure stumbled forward with a grunt. Norah sat up on the couch, stunned at the sight of the man who had earlier been thrown out, all but executing a judo roll. Sweeping back the hair that had fallen over his forehead with his fingers, he stood to his full height and stiffened when he saw her.
Oliver Moore.
“Oh, hi,” he said.
“Hi.” For a beat, Norah was stunned, not only with surprise, but with how she’d apparently conjured him. Okay, so maybe she was also staring at him because of how goddamned good-looking he was. Though sorely underdressed, he was easily the handsomest man of the evening. His features were those she’d become familiar with while working with the Moore family: light brown skin, high cheekbones, brown hair with streaks of light in between, and a distinctive sharp jawline.
He was so handsome that had she not been on the clock, and if he wasn’t a Moore, she might have offered to buy him a drink at the bar. Sadly, it had been years. This black hole of celibacy had not been her choice. For so long, she just hadn’t been in the mood, caught up with starting her life over with Braeden.
This man could fill that black hole.
As if he heard her thoughts, an eyebrow shot up. Then he said, “You’re from upstairs.”
“Yes.” She was still breathless. Then she remembered that in order to access that secondary door, he would have needed a key. She grabbed her phone from the couch and clicked through to her recent calls. Her thumb hovered over the name Up To Code, aka her boss Mr. Kawolski.
He raised a palm. “Wait. N…no…don’t call anyone."
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