The Silk Romance was my first ever novel. First book, first love! To celebrate the month of Valentine’s, The Silk Romance is now only #99c/99p  from Amazon and other online ebook stores

Here is the blurb:

A Cinderella retelling and an uplifting story of family loyalties and passionate romance

When Sophie Challoner’s grandmother throws a romantic party for her in Paris, for one wonderful night Sophie forgets her promise to her mother to look after her family, and she does something reckless – and wonderful – she will never forget.
Years later, Sophie is reunited with the man she left that evening, and she finds Jean-Luc Olivier is not the shallow womaniser she thought.

Jean-Luc is a force to be reckoned with”¦

Excerpt

“So what happened?’

Sophie looked a little guilty and dropped her eyes to the spots of wine spilt on the table. She dabbed at them ineffectually with a napkin. “You’ve got to remember I was so on edge, there was no bearing it any more. I thought I’d get my own back. Thought I’d teach him a lesson by pretending to be the groupie he thought I was.’

So she confessed to Marco how she’d waited until Jean-Luc got up from his stool and was standing by the edge of the dance floor ““ alone for once ““ and seized her moment. And then, when she was just a pace away, how her step faltered a little. He was an imposing man close up. His shoulders were broad, and he carried himself with easy confidence. The fleeting thought had crossed her mind that perhaps her recklessness might get her into trouble. Then she thought of his scornful assumption about her, and her mouth narrowed into a thin line. With a girlish smile, she’d put her arm round Jean-Luc’s waist and looked up at him with what she hoped was a suitably inane expression.

“Not dancing, gorgeous?’ She was satisfied to see a startled look cross his proud face and his broad shoulders lean away from her slightly.

“I don’t dance, mademoiselle.’ His air of cynicism had been replaced by one of caution. Good, Sophie thought viciously. The hunter was about to become the hunted. She snuggled a little closer to him.

“Oh, call me Sophie,’ she simpered.

Then suddenly everything changed. He bent his head toward her, one strong arm snaking swiftly around her waist, pulling her to him. Her breath was knocked out of her in a soft gasp. When she looked up to protest, she found his blue eyes on hers, his expression still unsmiling, his hard features almost frightening in their intensity.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, chérie.‘ From that moment, Sophie was lost.

“I don’t know how everything changed,’ she told Marco. “There was something about him. It’s as though if he decides to do something, somehow it just seems to happen how he wants it, without you realising.’ She looked up, her eyes far away. “And then when we got outside, he seemed so different somehow. Away from those dreadful groupies and the noise. He was a different man.’

She shivered. Even now the intensity of that moment could reach forward to her over the years and crush her in its grip. She shut her eyes momentarily. He had turned to lead her across the dance floor, a purposeful progression through the crowds, not stopping until they reached the DJ’s booth. Even then, he pulled her forward, behind the booth, until they reached a door set into the far wall. The instant he opened the door and she gazed out into the cool night air, everything else was forgotten. She gasped aloud with pleasure. Like Alice in Wonderland, she stepped outside into a magical country, her white evening dress rustling softly around her long legs. Jean-Luc climbed out after her onto the iron fire-escape, the door shutting behind him with a small clang. The night had been black, but all around them and beneath them and far into the horizon were the lights of Paris, sparkling and turning like jewels, caught in a dark glass bowl. The river Seine wound its way through it all, black in the night, unhurried. Above them rose the Eiffel Tower, glittering white and gold. The sounds of the party vanished. The traffic beneath them could barely be heard.

Jean-Luc had smiled at her childish pleasure. The moonlight spilled its silver light over him, softening the harshness of his features. To the teenage Sophie, he was transformed. The cold, arrogant guest had become a devastatingly handsome Prince Charming. He leaned over the balcony railings to point out the various landmarks of Paris for her, his tanned hand outstretched, the sleeve of his jacket brushing against her bare arm. Only when she shivered in the evening breeze had he turned to her. And then he’d taken her in his arms, and her surroundings vanished in the well of her senses. The depth of his kiss engulfed her.

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Helena Fairfax is a British author who was born in Uganda and came to England as a child. She’s grown used to the cold now, and these days she lives in an old Victorian mill town in the north of England, right next door to the windswept Yorkshire moors. She walks this romantic landscape every day with her rescue dog, finding it the perfect place to dream up her heroes and her happy endings.

Check out Helena’s Amazon page for more of her books. And you can find Helena on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Goodreads, and her blog. Subscribe to Helena’s newsletter for a  FREE romantic suspense novella.