Baby Bonanza (Maureen Child) – Chapter Two

Jenna is getting ready to meet Nick in her cabin. On the way downstairs, she talks to Mary Curran again and arranges to meet her for drinks later (maybe a security measure – should Nick decide to kill her, somebody would miss her).

At least, she was fairly certain Nick would show up. But what if he didn’t? What if he didn’t care about the fact that he was the father of her twin sons? What if he dismissed her note as easily as he’d deleted all of her attempts at e-mail communication? 

What, you’ve come this far and have never thought about that possibility? Ever? Jesus, woman, are you sure you have all the necessary synapses to survive?

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Baby Bonanza (Maureen Child) – Chapter One

We get right in the middle of things:

“Ow!” Jenna Baker hopped on her right foot and clutched at the bruised toes on her left one. [I imagine that it would be quite difficult to do it differently. Like hopping on your left foot while clutching the bruised toes on the left foot.]

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Baby Bonanza (Maureen Child)

The book is available here, even for free because of Harlequin’s 60th anniversary.

The Description by Harlequin:

Twins? The startling revelation that his affair with Jenna Baker had produced two little boys was almost impossible to grasp. Tycoon Nick Falco had never considered himself the settling-down type, yet now that fatherhood had been thrust upon him, he was determined to give his sons his name. But their mother wasn’t about to let him back into her life… at least not without those three little words Nick had never, ever said.

Let’s talk about the cover!


Photoshopping skills aside, will you look at the expression the guy has? It’s like “I know I should be radiating bliss but life is much too painful. Also, my oversized jaw tries to pull me down. But I guess that’s peanuts compared to the burning city behind me. Although I have two babies in my arms, who look strangely gleeful at the thought of a destroyed city. So maybe my worries are bigger than I thought.”


I know I haven’t been in a while. I’m looking for a book to read next which proves a little difficult. (Suggestions? Mail me or leave a comment!) Surprisingly, I do have a life…

Anyhoo, so that you’ll get your fix of bad prose, check this out. Here’s an excerpt.

Ron Miller – Silk and Steel:

As Spikenard watched, Bronwyn slipped the transparent cloak from her shoulders; it fell with a whisper. She let her hands drop to her sides; she pulled her shoulders back and stood erect, feet apart, legs straight. This is what he saw:

Bronwyn standing pale and tall in the nervous light that shimmered through a vibrating canopy of green leaves. The shifting bands of milky light and emerald shadow made her seem luminous, translucent, as though she were a tallow candle glowing beneath its own flame. Like a porcelain lantern. Like a curtain fluttering in a window at dawn. Like a ghost that came and went with the twilight and darkness, that first veiled and then revealed.

Her hair had the sheen of the sea beneath an eclipsed moon. It was the color of a leopard’s tongue, of oiled mahogany. It was terra cotta, bay and chestnut. Her hair was a helmet, a hood, the cowl of the monk, magician or cobra.

Her face had the fragrance of a gibbous moon. The scent of fresh snow. Her eyes were dark birds in fresh snow. They were the birds’ shadows, they were mirrors; they were the legends on old charts. They were antique armor and the tears of dragons. Her brows were a raptor’s sharp, anxious wings. They were a pair of scythes. Her ears were a puzzle carved in ivory. Her teeth were her only bracelet; she carried them within the red velvet purse of her lips. Her tongue was amber. Her tongue was a ferret, an anemone, a fox caught in the teeth of a tiger.

And it goes on like this, down her body. When he reaches her tighs, you’re all relieved because you think it’s over. And then he starts with her backside…

People, I’d read that with you! Unfortunately, I can’t find a copy. And I’m not prepared to actually spend money on this, money that would only encourage the author to write some more…