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Geri Krotow: This Isn’t Your Grandmother’s Harlequin!
Wednesday, July 3rd, 2019

My latest book, Colton’s Mistaken Identity, is Book 7 in the Coltons of Roaring Springs series from Harlequin Romantic Suspense. While each book in the series is standalone, meaning you don’t have to read any of the previous, it’s a richer read when you have. My heroine is an identical twin and poses as her (missing? kidnapped?) twin during a film festival in the idyllic setting of Roaring Springs, Colorado. Phoebe works at her parent’s Chateau resort, giving the setting a very Aspen/French Alps feel. Phoebe is attracted to the bigtime movie star Prescott Reynolds, but can’t even contemplate a sexy rendezvous or two, not with her sister’s mysterious disappearance and the festival to run. Of course, lots of scary suspense and life-threatening action ensues, along with intimate, intense sexy times. It’s why it’s called romantic suspense. What keeps me happily writing Harlequin Romantic Suspense is the depth of characters and the emotional honesty of their relationships. I hope you’ll enjoy them, too.

Colton’s Mistaken Identity

The wrong twin…or the right one?
A Coltons of Roaring Springs romance

Marketing exec Skye Colton suddenly disappears, putting the Roaring Springs Film Festival in jeopardy. Enter Skye’s identical twin, Phoebe, who poses as her sister. In her starring role, Phoebe catches the eye of A-list actor Prescott Reynolds, and she can’t deny the electricity that erupts between them. With Skye still missing and a stalker at large, this is the worst time to fall in love, especially with danger racing toward them…


A flash of red, the distinct shade he’d first laid eyes on this morning in the copse of aspen trees, caught his attention. The same woman he’d seen on the trail walked past him and began to climb the stairs to the grand ballroom. He knew where the impressive stairs led, as he’d already memorized the layout of the hotel. His privacy had necessitated he know every nook and cranny to escape to if the paparazzi became rabid.

She wasn’t in running clothes any longer, and her hair was styled to show off the unique hue. From her profile he saw that she was wearing makeup, a little much for his taste, but he was used to being around women who enjoyed dolling themselves up. It was all part of being an actor.

This woman intrigued him when she shouldn’t. And yet as she’d walked by, oblivious to him, he’d caught a whiff of floral perfume that captured him like a trout in a net. The sight of her profile again, this time with makeup on and offset by the backdrop of the luxurious resort, struck a chord deep inside him. Prescott wasn’t a stranger to immediate attraction but this took it to a new place for him. Besides the obvious physical pull of her beauty, he sensed the potential for something deeper, more meaningful, between them.

What the heck was going on with him?

She wasn’t wearing anything exciting, and her business suit didn’t show off her curves as well as her workout clothing had. Still, in the view he had of her backside, there was no denying her very feminine shape under the jacket and dress pants. Insta-lust made him pause, not wanting to get an erection in public.

You’ve been alone too long.

After what he’d been through with his ex, he knew better than to even look twice at this stunning woman. But he couldn’t help himself. Truth be told, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Nor how relieved he’d felt when he’d realized she wasn’t trailing him. It was always in the back of his mind that Ariella could show up again, and her penchant for ugliness wasn’t something he relished. He’d been drawn to Ariella’s intelligence and quick wit. And it had worked for a while, until her true nature of career-climbing at the expense of the men in her life reappeared. Or maybe he’d simply come out of his denial about her dark side. Either way, it had been a rough go of it for his dating life ever since.

But the redhead… His gut told him to go after her.

He didn’t entertain the rational side of his brain that told him he was out of his league. That not everyone was impressed by actors, not that he ever consciously used his job or status to seduce a woman. He believed more in allowing an attraction to grow organically.

This inexplicable urge to talk to the stranger, the only redhead he’d seen at The Chateau, was definitely organic on his part. But would she think he was odd?
What if she wasn’t available? Preston stopped midway up the staircase. He hadn’t even considered that she might be with someone already. Hell, she could even be married.

Chill, dude.

Prescott hadn’t had to go after a woman in years. And he missed it. The constant attention from the opposite sex had been heady when he’d arrived in Hollywood and been cast in his first roles ten, twelve years ago. But it quickly grew old, and he didn’t want to spend time with someone who only saw him as an actor. The redhead clearly worked here or had a role to play in the film fest, so she was probably used to celebrities. Would she see past the Caribbean-blue eyes that had become his trademark? Not that he’d ever expected to be known for his eyes. His dream wasn’t even so much to be recognized for his acting as to be give the opportunities to bring meaningful roles to life. He wasn’t a fan of the celebrity culture that came with it but he understood it was all part of the gig.

Except when he wanted a woman to see him as more than a contender for a tabloid’s annual sexiest man.

He walked through open, massive carved oak doors and into the hotel’s pièce de résistance—the grand ballroom. The floor was entirely parquet but covered with a huge red carpet that ran into its center, where the area delineated for dancing remained clear. Hundreds if not a full thousand round tables framed the open area, the crystal chandeliers catching the fading sunlight, their bulbs still dim. Soon they’d be bright and the room a cacophony of press, actors, studio executives and the teams of people it took to make it all happen.

It was that rare quiet moment before a major event launched. Right now it was hushed as workers rapidly set tables and moved last-minute lighting equipment into place. A DJ set up in a far corner of the room, her control panel as large as any he’d ever seen in a concert. But in another hour and a half, it would burst to life with an entirely different personality.

Prescott liked the quiet anticipation before an event. As much as he enjoyed the slow build of desire as he met and wooed a woman into his bed.

The redhead stood alone in the middle of the room, silently moving her lips as she read from her phone. Her running clothes were gone but she hadn’t upgraded her look that much, wearing easy black pants and a simple pale pink silk shell. Her skin was dewy, and as he’d already noticed she liked her makeup heavy, but on her stunning features it only emphasized her beauty.

His running shoes, silent on the plush carpet, hit the parquet floor, and a loud squeak sounded. The woman gasped as she startled and dropped her phone onto the carpet. Her caramel-brown eyes lasered in on him, and he knew how a bug felt under a magnifying glass. But it was more like an ant under a sunbeam as heat immediately flared in his chest, rushing toward his groin. The woman was so damned beautiful, from her glorious red hair to her full lush lips, down to her full breasts and hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so smitten, from the get-go.

Because you never have been.

He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He bent down and retrieved her phone, on which he saw notes displayed before he handed it back to her.

“I-I’m not…scared.” She cleared her throat, and he had to consciously force his gaze from the creamy skin of her neck to her eyes. He swore he already knew what she’d taste like, how her soft skin would give under the pressure of his lips.

“What can I do for you?” She’d been surprised by his appearance but recovered quickly. The immediate shock in her brown eyes was already replaced by cool assessment. Yup, definitely someone used to working with celebrities. And not easily impressed, he’d guess.

“I’m Prescott—”

“I know who you are, Mr. Reynolds. Is there something you need before tonight’s premiere?” Her tone burst with brusque efficiency, but all he could see was the way her pink-glossed lips formed the words.

“You didn’t notice, but this morning we were both on the hiking trail.”

“You mean the running path?” She bit her lower lip, and her cheeks flushed under the makeup. Why did she have an expression of guilt on her feminine features? “Sorry, but I’m not a runner. You must have seen my twin sister, Phoebe. She, ah, goes for a few miles every morning. I’m more of a night owl. Did you enjoy your time on the property?”

“Yes, of course.” He waved his hand around, motioning at the room. “This entire place is amazing. It’s easy to feel like I’m in the middle of Normandy or Burgundy while I’m here.” Too late he realized what a snob he sounded like. His global travel was a direct privilege of his celebrity status, and the Iowa farm boy inside him cringed at his careless mention of a destination so few ever afforded.

“Thank you. I’ll pass that on to my parents. Is there something else?” There was an air of impatience, no, make that desperation about her as she repeated her question. Maybe she had to practice red carpet introductions, or there had been some last-minute disruptions to the festival’s launch gala.

“Actually, it’s me who’d like to do something for you. What did you say your name was?”

Most women were impressed enough by this point to at least show a spark of appreciation in their gaze. But not this woman. She actually hesitated before she answered, as if reluctant to let him know anything so personal. Talk about the tables being turned.

The warmth in his center from her nearness exploded into something he hadn’t felt in a long while. Joy.

Prescott realized that he’d sorely missed having a woman turn him on his head. Maybe this film festival wasn’t going to be the laborious weeklong junket that he’d resigned himself to.

“I’m Skye Colton, the resort’s marketing director.” She held out a slim hand, and he took it. As they shook he was again distracted, this time by the silky softness of her skin that contrasted sharply with the firmness of her grip. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Not as pleased as I am. Call me Prescott, please.” He loved how she grasped his hand like a boss. She’d be incredible in bed, he instinctively knew. But what stunned him was that he wasn’t interested in that, not right now. Well, maybe he was completely enthralled by how seductive her mere presence was, but he was feeling something very different from first-meet attraction. Something more palpable.

All Prescott wanted was to get to know Skye Colton better. Suddenly his seven-day junket in Roaring Springs felt as if it was already half over. There would never be enough time to know this woman the way he wanted to.

But damned if he wouldn’t give it his best shot.

Phoebe knew she gripped Prescott’s hand too tightly, but to his credit the man didn’t even wince. She’d had no choice, as there was no other way to hide her nervousness. Thank goodness she’d wiped her palm on her pants before she’d shaken his. Otherwise he’d have known how rattled she was.

The photos and films didn’t do this man justice. Not even close. She’d never had a zing of awareness when she’d seen him on the big screen, nor had she grown wet with pure feminine need as she’d watched his performances. Standing so near to him, it was a shock to her that his star status wasn’t at play. She felt as she would with a non-celebrity man she was attracted to. Except her reaction was so far over the top. Between his deep voice, his words that made her feel like she was the only woman in the room, and the confidence in his posture and body language that hinted at his athleticism, her knees felt like her mother’s pepper jelly. All wobbly but with heat washing over her skin, making her want to run away before she did what her hormones were begging for: to kiss Prescott Reynolds right here in the ballroom and tell him to follow her to her room.

This must be what groupies feel like, and why they go after movie and rock stars.

This had to be some kind of sexual overreaction due to the morning’s upheaval caused by Skye’s disappearance.

Prescott flashed his familiar white-toothed I-leave-hearts-crushed-with-every-footstep grin that she recognized from his film promos and it snapped it out of her sexual trance.

It was nothing like the smile she’d witnessed in her favorite work of his—an historical period piece where he’d played a struggling artist amid the French Revolution. While his smile was part of his trademark good looks, as he looked at her, she was aware that there was more to this man than his celebrity. And he knew how to turn it on and off, not a virtue of many people she’d met who lived in the spotlight.

“Okay, then. Nice to meet you, Prescott.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Skye.” Phoebe didn’t like lying, ever, yet as she stood in the middle of the grand ballroom, her hair and makeup perfectly done in Skye’s signature style, it was surprisingly easy to fall into the role. Save for Skye’s effervescent presence. And extreme comfort around attractive, powerful men.

“You must be very excited for tonight. I’ll be announcing each of you, I mean the VIPs, as you arrive.” She’d watched from the sidelines as her twin had handled actors over the past three years since they’d both left college. Skye made it look so easy, but Phoebe was drained at the mere thought of having to play “happy to meet you” with countless actors.

He shrugged, his tall, muscular frame formidable in measure but his energy anything but. He made her feel as though she were the only person he wanted to be with. No doubt all part of his practiced Hollywood charm.

“It’s a thrill to know the world’s going to finally see something I worked so hard on, but to be frank, I left this film’s set almost a year ago. My mind is on other…projects.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, his flirting was so obvious. “I’ll bet it is.” It seemed silly, but she went ahead and batted her eyes anyway. And immediately felt like Skye. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t really her twin, please forgive her, and would he call her Phoebe?

But she couldn’t. So she smiled, content to soak up his aura of good cheer as pseudo-Skye.

He smiled back, but it wasn’t the predatory grin of a man on the prowl. She’d watched plenty of actors behave poorly over the years, and this wasn’t it. Prescott seemed relaxed, and there was a special light in his eyes that she couldn’t attribute to the chandeliers, as they weren’t fully lit yet. She didn’t know the man, but if she had to name it, she’d say he was happy. A man in his element. Exactly where he wanted to be.

Buy links:

About the Author

Geri Krotow is the bestselling author of the Silver Valley PD series for Harlequin Romantic Suspense, and the Bayou Bachelors series with Kensington Lyrical Caress. A U.S. Naval Academy graduate and Intelligence Officer, Geri left her Navy career to pursue writing. Geri enjoys creating sexy contemporary romances and tingling suspense.

Geri loves to connect with readers!

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Geri Krotow: The Billionaire’s Colton Threat
Saturday, November 11th, 2017

With Veteran’s Day today, I want to take a moment to say a silent as well as super-loud “thank you” to all the veterans, past and present, who have served our great nation. I was blessed to wear a U.S. Navy uniform for 9 years of active duty, 4 years at the Naval Academy, and I supported my husband and kids as he served for 27 years. And how lucky am I that I’m a writer, so I got to work wherever we lived, and now I use a lot of those experiences in my books.

My latest, The Billionaire’s Colton Threat, is out this month and part of a publisher series—meaning that my publisher, Harlequin Romantic Suspense, came up with a HUGE sweeping cast of characters and a super sexy, suspenseful setting and situations. I wrote about a Texas corporate star-turned-cowgirl, and the sexy smart Scottish billionaire she falls in love with. It was so much fun to write, almost as much fun as being on active duty and flying over cool places during a challenging mission. Note: I was an intel officer and flew as an observer.

I’d like to thank Delilah for another opportunity to get to know you, and I hope you’ll enjoy my latest. For a long-ish excerpt, plus the low-down on all of my books, please visit my website, and be sure to sign up for my newsletter and not miss any of the 5 new books I’ll have out next year.

Go Navy!

Connect with Geri Krotow:

Elle James: Let it Begin!
Monday, January 2nd, 2017

I have an exciting year planned. I can’t wait to share everything going on.

First, my last book in the Devil’s Shroud series with Harlequin Romantic Suspense released yesterday. I think you’ll love Andrew Stratford, his daughter Leigha and their protector Dix Reeves. Prepare yourself for an exciting conclusion to the series and to fall in love with the characters.

At the end of January, my sister, Delilah Devlin and I have a co-authored book coming out SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT. It’s book #2 in the Texas Billionaires Club series. It’s a light-hearted romantic comedy you’ll enjoy.

And watch for more exciting things coming from the BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS Series.  I have 3 books planned and Amazon has given me a Kindle World for this series! That’s right. There will be many authors writing stories in this world. I can’t wait to see these stories. I know you will love them and the authors contributing to them, to include my lovely sister, Delilah Devlin!


In a Gothic mansion on a windy coast, former soldier Dixie Reeves and her client, billionaire Andrew Stratford, are in grave danger. The single dad has hired her to help him protect his daughter from a mysterious threat. As their enemy closes in, even tough-as-nails Dixie has to hold her nerve…and keep her guard up to stop herself from falling for Andrew and his adorable little girl. The long nights pass, and Dixie and her handsome boss can’t deny they’re barreling toward the kind of love that changes lives. That is, if they can somehow keep their instant family safe from the danger at the door!

Amazon | Amazon UK | Kobo | Nook | iBooks | GooglePlay


What happens when a young Martha Stewart teams up with the Oscar Madison of radio talk shows?  Sparks fly, romance blooms and their audience goes wild

Diane Denton is a cool, sophisticated home and garden talk show host on K-YAK 102.5 radio station.  All she thinks she wants is to talk about fertilizer and place settings, while fending off her well-meaning country club parents’ attempts to push her into marriage with the “right man.”

To Diane, fellow talk show host, Rip O’Rourke, is nothing more than a rebellious, overgrown teenager flaunting his baseball-capped, Hawaiian-shirted, ex-football player physique to “score” with anything with breasts.  Proof of his perversity is the crude, but popular, hour of programming he hosts that discusses such manly topics as wet T-shirt contests and sports statistics.  Diane wouldn’t spit on Rip if he were on fire, while Rip on the other hand, wants to do more than spend time with Diane.  She is a challenge to mankind as a whole and his goal in life is to see Diane’s crisp shirts and tailored slacks properly rumpled, just once.

Rip gets his opportunity when the radio station is sold to a large corporation and the station manager is challenged to come up with a prime-time show that will set the city on its ear.  From one of Rip and Diane’s public arguments springs the idea of a show about the differences between men and women giving their audience, “Something to Talk About.”

Amazon | Kobo |GooglePlay

Lindsay McKenna: Wolf Haven
Wednesday, December 3rd, 2014


I’ve always loved wolves.  When Dr. Pinkola-Estes wrote “Women Who Run With The Wolves,” it was a landmark book about feminine mystique.  She is a Jungian analyst.  Carl Jung, Swiss Psychiatrist, saw symbolism in everything.  And in the book, she too saw the deep symbolism of the wolf with women.  After all?  They both start with a “W.”  Right?  Right.  And you can add the world “wild” to the mix, too.  Wild Women. Wild Wolves.  They are synonymous with one another.

There is a deep intuitiveness and natural wildness in all women, and maybe that’s why we vibe so strongly with wolves and wolf packs.  Wolves, by nature are not loners, nor are humans, really.  We’re social animals, also.  And social animals need group, clan, tribe, team, family or group of friends to be happy and feel fulfilled.

I’ve had the good fortune to photograph Timber Wolves in Canada.  The photo I’ve got with this blog is one of them.  It was an alpha pair, male (gray, right) and female (white, left).

Everyone knows wolves are pack animals and they work together as a team toward one objective.  I chose the wolf symbol for my latest release WOLF HAVEN precisely because of this symbolism and reality.  Having wolf energy means that one’s will to survive is always close to their skin and nature.   Further, it is the alpha male and female who procreate while the others do not.  They become babysitters, instead.

One little known fact about wolves is that most people think all wolves have yellow eyes.   In truth, they are born with BLUE eyes.  And as they begin to mature, the eyes will change to yellow.  But, even among wolves, there are the rare ones that will keep those beautiful blue eyes for the rest of their life.

Gracie, the alpha white female wolf in my book, has blue eyes and is instrumental in helping the heroine heal from her wounds and trauma.  But she also brings out the heroine’s will to not only survive. But thrive.  So typical of wolves, they are one of the toughest, most adaptable of all creatures.  Wolf symbolism, then, is a wonderful foundation to pen a story.

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Wolf Haven, HQN, by Lindsay McKenna, Wyoming Series, 12.1.2014
Audio book available at
Visit her website:

The Warrior’s Touch is here!
Sunday, May 1st, 2011

The Queen of the Kitchen contest continues (see Tuesday’s post for details)!
The Promo Whore contest ends today. You have a little time to enter before my sister and I get together to choose our winners!

I hope the snippets I’ve fed you were enough to convince you to go buy the book. I’d love for it to be a success. I’m dependent on you to provide me the chance to write more stories for Nocturne.

And y’all know the drill. Please tag it, “like” it—and if you’ve read it—review it as soon as possible! Anything to get the word out to other readers would be appreciated. You have the power! (Why do I feel like a dozen She-ra’s are raising their swords into the air? :))

Here are the buy links:

TWT at Amazon
TWT at eHarlequin
TWT at B&N

One Day to The Warrior’s Touch!
Saturday, April 30th, 2011

Remember, the Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue!
See details in Tuesday’s post! Post a comment here to win!
The Promo Whore contest ends tomorrow!

It’s a Nocturne, so you know there has to be some danger, action, and magic! Here’s another little taste. And remember, tomorrow’s the day it releases—pre-order now!

* * * * *

Caleb rode, only part of his attention on the road and his surroundings. His focus was on the wisps of green light ahead of him. A horse. A rider. In the center of the road. Then suddenly, the pair veered off the path, toward the ridge above.

Not bothering to signal Fari, because she was right on his horse’s tail, Caleb reined right, leaned low over his mount’s neck and flew up the slope. Near the top were boulders and a stand of conifers. The ghostly green shadow weaved among the trees, although he appeared to be slowing down, because his outline was sharper, the green color more brilliant.

Caleb held up a fist to warn Fari, and slowed his roan.

The trees were thicker here, the darkness pressing around them. The rider ahead of them dismounted.

Caleb did the same. He listened for the sounds of Fari following, but kept his gaze ahead, peering into the darkness.

So many places to hide. His heart thudded. His breathing deepened as he focused. If the Centaurian knew he was being followed, he might strike out. The only way to keep Fari safe was to meet him first.

Caleb tied his horse to a branch, glanced around for Fari and motioned again for her to stay behind him. Then he took off through the trees.

His footsteps crunched on the pine needles, but there was no point in being quiet. They didn’t have time. If the Centaurian reached his headband, they would fail.

Ahead, he caught sight of another wisp, then a darker, blacker shadow. The figure bent near the base of a tall tree that leaned at a slant, half uprooted.

Caleb stalked closer, careful to muffle his footfalls now.

But the Centaurian stiffened, glancing over his shoulder.

Before he could reach the belt glinting beside him, Caleb leaped, taking the alien to the ground.

Immediately, Caleb knew he was in trouble. His opponent was preternaturally powerful, and without the impediment of a weakened shoulder.

Caleb plunged his fist into the alien’s side while wrapping his injured arm around the Centaurian’s body to hold him. “Fari,” he gasped. “Get the belt and jump!”

“Got it!”

The Centaur roared, slammed his fist into Caleb’s shoulder and leaped off him to run after Fari.

Caleb saw stars for a moment, then shook his head and lunged to his feet.

He heard hoofbeats in the distance, knew Fari had gotten to her horse to lead the Centaurian away from him. “Dammit, this is no time to be a hero, woman!”

Caleb ran for his own mount and swung up, then kicked it into a gallop, following the traces of the two figures ahead of him. They were weaving through the trees toward a clearing that dropped away sharply to the sea.

In the moonlight now, he watched Fari zigzag left and right, then pull hard on her reins to head toward the cliff. The Centaurian was gaining on her.

Suddenly, the ground in front of both riders fell away, the cliff wall crumbling.

Caleb knew it was a flare. But so did the Centaurian. However, both horses balked, shying to the side, backs arching, bucking in revolt.

Fari held tight to her mount’s reins, her expression focused as she threw another flare.

Caleb’s heart stopped for a beat as he saw a huge, golden gryphon diving toward the Centaurian’s horse, wings extended and flapping. It dipped toward the animal, claws outstretched, then pulled up sharply, only to dive again.

The Centaurian’s horse bucked harder, twisting and jouncing the rider on its back. The alien roared again, his head thrown back in rage.

Two Days to The Warrior’s Touch!
Friday, April 29th, 2011

Remember, the Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue!
See details in Tuesday’s post!

So I know that no one’s gonna be checking out this blog today—not with all the hoopla going on the TV. I taped THE WEDDING to watch when I go to bed tonight. So don’t tell me what I missed!

In The Warrior’s Touch, both the hero and heroine have specialized psychic powers. Here’s a little taste.

* * * * *

She blew out a breath. “Dinner’s over. Most everyone’s settling in for the night. We might take a look around.”

“And if we’re caught?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Do you know where the queen’s chambers are?”

Fari nodded in crisp assent. “She’s above stairs. Only those closest to her are allowed up there.”

“Heavily guarded?”

“Hippolyta has guards inside her chamber with her and Theseus. She may be besotted with the man, but she doesn’t trust him.”

“That’s where you think the belt is?”

Fari nodded again. “It’s that or the temple, but she doesn’t seem like the kind to hand power over to anyone. She’d want to keep it close.”

“Did you hear any mention of it at dinner?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. First night here and I didn’t want anyone suspecting I was after anything other than to serve my queen.”

Caleb leaned back on his hands and studied Fari’s expression. “You’re enjoying this.”
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