Corsica Gate by Robena Grant

Corsica Gate by Robena Grant
Release date: January 28^th, 2015
Publisher: Wild Rose Press

Synopsis:

A heroine who has stopped believing in fairy tales and happy endings, Dia Sophia Romani, jilted three days before her wedding, has lived with Mama in San Diego’s Little Italy for six months. She’s tired of everything Italian, and is ready to move on…

Enter an unlikely hero. Carlo Antonelli is of Italian descent. He adores Dia, but he’s willing to take his time and not rush her. When he learns she will be vacationing in Italy and Corsica, he must step up his game.

Will a wish made at a magical gate destroy, or strengthen, their newfound love?

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About the Author

Robena Grant writes contemporary romance about ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances. Travel and discovering new places brings Robena great pleasure, and she often includes these discoveries in her stories. She is Australian by birth, lives in Southern California, and has two grown children. Robena may be contacted at her website.

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An Excerpt from Corsica Gate

“You mean…?” She looked back at the guy.

Nah, impossible. I’ve never been that lucky.

“Yeah, that’s Carlo Antonelli.”

“You don’t want to accept the date, just make up whatever excuse you want.” Tony beckoned.

A jolt of heat spread through her abdomen when Carlo grinned and waved. He ducked through the slow moving traffic and stopped in front of her smiling a crooked smile. Pushing his sunglasses onto his head, white teeth flashing, and mahogany eyes sparkling, he held out his right hand.

My wedding date? Her heartbeat pounded, and her mouth went dry.

“You must be Dia.” He tucked the book underneath one arm and held her hand gently with his other big warm hand. “Carlo Antonelli.”

“Yes.” The word came out on a soft breath. She swallowed hard. “Tony mentioned you wanted to speak to me about Marco’s wedding.” Something inside of her shifted, as if a huge iceberg started to melt in her chest and slide sideways, leaving a pool of cool, blue, bubbling water. She floundered for a minute wondering what to say next, because she couldn’t use the word date. Not while looking into his magnificent eyes. Then she remembered he was Italian, or at least part Italian.

Strike one.

Her shoulders stiffened. She had no interest in Italian men. She hitched up the purse onto her shoulder, and squinted from behind the dark sunglasses.