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Stroke of Midnight: Impulsive/Enticing/Tantalizing (Harlequin Blaze #114) [NOOK Book]


Fashion writer Natalie Trent, fabric designer Isabel Parisi and accountant Arianne Sorenson were ready for a night they'd never forget. Last year they left the annual Monticello ball single...this time will be different. They're ready for some fun--the sexier the better!

For Natalie, running into the man who disappeared on her one year ago is more than surprising. But she has revenge on her mind, and she's going to make him beg for more!


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Stroke of Midnight: Impulsive/Enticing/Tantalizing (Harlequin Blaze #114)

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Fashion writer Natalie Trent, fabric designer Isabel Parisi and accountant Arianne Sorenson were ready for a night they'd never forget. Last year they left the annual Monticello ball single...this time will be different. They're ready for some fun--the sexier the better!

For Natalie, running into the man who disappeared on her one year ago is more than surprising. But she has revenge on her mind, and she's going to make him beg for more!

Long-term relationships aren't in the cards for Isabel. But when one of her admirers decides tonight's the night they become more than friends, a little champagne and sweet talk is all the encouragement Isabel needs....

When Arianne and her boss feel sparks on the dance floor, it's all they can do to find the closest bedroom, damn the consequences! These women are willing to risk just about everything for one hot and steamy night, but it's the morning after that turns out to be more than they bargained for!

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781426872839
  • Publisher: Harlequin
  • Publication date: 8/23/2010
  • Series: Harlequin Blaze Series , #114
  • Sold by: HARLEQUIN
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 256
  • Sales rank: 503,877
  • File size: 621 KB

Meet the Author

For Jamie Denton there's nothing quite as heartwarming as the happy ending for a hero and heroine who overcome the odds. In fact, if you ask her, she'll tell you that anything in life that's easy just isn't much fun. Always one to look for challenges in life, Jamie embraced her first real challenge at the age of 16 when she married her high school sweetheart.

A whole lot of years later, she can still remember the first time she saw her own personal hero and knew, even at that tender age, that he was the one. With a history like that, what else could she write except romance novels? Several writing awards later, it's obvious her personal life wasn't the only place she made the right choice.

Although writing takes much of her time, in her spare moments away from the computer she usually has a book (what else but a romance?) or a cross-stitch project within reach. She enjoys cooking, gardening, and has a love hate relationship when it comes to remodeling her turn of the century home, which Jamie and her husband refer to as the Little Money Pit on the Prairie. Now that her nest is officially empty, she showers her affection on her three, four-legged "babies": a mammoth Maine Coon, Max (short for Maximum Load), her adorable little Red Stag Miniature Pinscher, Strat who loves to cuddle in her lap while she writes, and the dumbest smart dog she's ever owned, the family's yellow Labrador Retriever, Dauber, whom she claims is appropriately named.

When asked why she writes romances, Jamie credits her sister-in-law. During a difficult pregnancy when all activities were strictly forbidden, Jamie received two grocery sacks (before the days of plastic!) filled with novels. Every one was a romance, so during those long days of forced inactivity, Jamie read, and read, and read some more.

She claims that during those hours while she was swept away by the compelling romances of dashing heroes and feisty heroines, she was able to set aside her worries. She never forgot that feeling, and when she penned her first romance 12 years later in 1994, she did so with the fondest hope that someone else may be able to set aside their worries for a short while, too.

Jamie, a Southern California native, lives in North Dakota with her husband. This incredibly very young grandmother of three escaped life in the fast lane and doesn't regret trading sun and sand for clear blue skies and wide open spaces . . . well, except during the long winter months with all that snow cluttering up her gardens.

There was never any doubt that Carrie Alexander would have a creative career. As a two-year-old, she imagined dinosaurs on the lawn. By six it was witches in the bedroom closet. Soon she was designing elaborate paper-doll wardrobes and writing stories about Teddy the Bear.

Eventually she graduated to short horror stories and oil paints. She was working as an artist and a part-time librarian when she "discovered" her first romance novel and thought, "Hey, I can write one of these!" So she did.

Carrie is now the author of several books for various Harlequin lines, with many more crowding her imagination, demanding to be written. She has been a RITA and Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice finalist, but finds her greatest reward in becoming friends with her readers, even if it's only for the length of a book.

Carrie lives in the upper peninsula of Michigan, where the long winters still don't give her enough time to significantly reduce her to-be-read mountains of books. When she's not reading or writing (which is rare), Carrie is painting and decorating her own or her friends' houses, watching football, and shoveling snow. She loves to hear from readers, who can contact her by mail in care of Harlequin Books, and by email at

Nancy Warren is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more than twenty sexy, humorous novels and novellas for Harlequin and Kensington publishers. She got her big break in 2000 when she won the Harlequin Blaze Contest (unpublished category) and her first sale was a three-book contract-- one for the Blaze line, one for the Temptation series and one for the Duets series. Nancy has won many awards for her writing, including the Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award for Best Blaze of 2002 and the Laurel Wreath. In 2004 she was a double Rita Award finalist. Nancy holds an honors degree in English literature and lives in the Pacific Northwest where she spends a lot of time daydreaming about gorgeous men, and women who are a lot more adventurous than she. When not writing, she is usually out walking her border collie in the rain, or twisted into some bizarre yoga shape. For more, including contests, articles and other fun stuff, please visit
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Read an Excerpt

Stroke Of Midnight

By Jamie Denton Carrie Alexander Nancy Warren

Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.

Copyright © 2003 Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-373-79118-6

Chapter One

New Year's Eve, 2002 Home of Raphael Monticello, New York City

"HAPPY FREAKIN' NEW YEAR," said Arianne Sorenson, raising a flute of champagne to no one in particular.

It was an hour past midnight and the annual New Year's Eve party at the home of famous shoe designer Rafe Monticello continued in full swing, but back here at the marble-and-gilt bar, there was only her, eleven empty bar stools and an Italian bartender who didn't speak much English.

"Back at you, girlfriend!"

Arianne was so surprised to hear another female answer her that she turned rather suddenly on her bar stool and nearly toppled off onto her Dolce-&-Gabbana-clad butt.

"Natalie Trent," the redhead said. "Mind if I join you?" Not waiting for an answer, she hoisted herself onto an adjacent stool and carefully set a signature gold shoe box on the bar.

Arianne supplied her name, deciding she liked her new friend's direct approach.

Natalie tugged the hem of her black sequined skirt down a notch. "What are we drinking to?" She signaled the bartender for another champagne.

Arianne considered the question seriously. Before she could come up with a toast that simultaneously expressed present misery but left the door open for future bliss, another female voice broke into her thoughts, this one pitched lower than the first.

"Are we all playing wallflower? Great. I need a breather." The third woman joined them, carelessly adjusting the plunging neckline of the unbuttoned man's dress shirt she wore tucked into a fringed miniskirt. Mascara was smudged beneath her exotic eyes and lipstick blurred the shape of her mouth.

It was clear she'd been involved in more than the ceremonial New Year's Eve kiss.

Arianne leaned closer and whispered, "You have a tuxedo shirt stud in your hair."

With a husky laugh, the woman flipped her dark hair over her face, shaking out the stud. It fell onto the bar and she gazed at it with a small smile playing over beestung lips. "I always like to keep a party memento."

"From a stud of a different kind, no doubt." Arianne suppressed a sigh.

Everyone else always seemed to get lucky on New Year's Eve.

"Pour another one, honey," the brunette said to the bartender, who obligingly filled a third flute with Rafe Monticello's vintage French champagne. As the bubbly liquid foamed, Natalie introduced herself and Arianne.

"Isabel Parisi," the third woman replied, popping the stud into her evening bag before accepting her own glass.

"Arianne was just making a toast," Natalie said.

The two women looked to Arianne expectantly, as though this were her bar and these her guests. Not wanting to appear like a lonely loser when they were both obviously having a much better time than she, Arianne skipped the present misery part and went straight for future bliss. "Here's to fulfilling our dreams," she said.

"Fulfilling our dreams," the others echoed as they clinked glasses.

Natalie and Arianne took ladylike sips.

Isabel drained her champagne in one long gulp. "We should smash our glasses against the fireplace to make our wishes come true."

"Oh, no. You can't!" Arianne cried. "These are stem crystal. Seventy-eight dollars a glass at Saks."

Because the other two were blinking at her as though she were under the illusion she was a contestant on The Price Is Right, she rapidly explained.

"I'm Rafe Monticello's accountant. I see all the bills."

"It must cost him a pretty penny to give away hundreds of pairs of Monticellos every year as party tokens," said Natalie.

Arianne shuddered. "You don't want to know."

In the past few years, Rafe had put his Harvard MBA to work launching his Italian mother's shoe designs in America. Since he became CEO, the company had gone from outrageous success to outrageous success. Blahnik, Choo and Monticello were the trio to make any shoe fetishist drool.

Natalie pointed to the pair of Monticellos on Arianne's feet - the ones from last year's party. "I saw those on Fifth Avenue for six hundred retail."

Arianne nodded. "Even the wholesale price is more than I would ever spend on shoes."

"I'd just as soon go barefoot." Isabel crossed her long bare legs, lounging against the bar. She wore simple beaded ballerina flats. "But if we must put on killer stilettos, why not do it in style, courtesy of Rafe? He can afford the indulgence."

"Beats going home alone." Natalie let out a weighty sigh. "Again."

They sipped for a while in silence.

"Well, aren't we the cliche," Isabel observed. "A blonde, a brunette and a redhead. Three single chicks, sitting at a bar."

"You're single?" Natalie blinked and then looked briefly at the bag containing the stud's stud.

Noticing the direction of her glance, Isabel said, "Are we talking tonight or for life?"

"Aren't they the same?"

"Uh-uh. I love being single. I came here for the fine selection of French champagne and Italian men. Bellissimo." Isabel kissed her fingertips at the bartender, who winked at her.

"Si, Bella," he replied.

She turned toward the other women. "How about you two?"

"Fashion reporter," Natalie explained. "I pretty much had to kill to get an invitation, but it was worth it. I get to hang out with people I want to interview, and take home a pair of Monticellos." She smoothed her hand adoringly over the gold box.

Arianne shrugged. "It's my job. Rafe is an important client. I come to make nice." She lifted a foot in the air and let the light catch the soft gleam of expensive leather. "And I come for the Monticellos."

"Don't tell me you both prefer the shoes to the men," Isabel teased.

"Hmm," Natalie murmured, then drained the last of her champagne. "At least shoes only hurt your feet."

Recognizing one another as veterans of the Manhattan dating wars, the three women shared looks of commiseration.

Isabel brightened her wry smile before their private party cycled downward into pity. "I'm in fashion, too." She preferred to stick to career talk rather than explain her colorful history with men. "Fabric designer. I've been working with the Monticellos on their spring line."

This spurred a lively discussion of who they knew in common, the upcoming Fashion Week and what was happening among the rich and famous fashionistas.


Excerpted from Stroke Of Midnight by Jamie Denton Carrie Alexander Nancy Warren Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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