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Summer Bride


 by Fiona Harper


Autumn Bride


by Trish Wylie









Amazon UK

Amazon North America




meet the hero






meet the heroine







Sylvie's dress





"Liz Fielding begins A Bride for All Seasons with The Bride's Baby.  This story has everything-sparkling dialogue, multifaceted
characterizations, sizzling chemistry and a powerful emotional core. A


Romantic Times TOP PICK!



"I smiled through THE BRIDE’S BABY by Liz Fielding. I think anyone will. The romance is fast and fresh, the situation and characters contemporary and smart and the ending is perfect. What’s not to love?"


Romance Readers at Heart



"The Bride's Baby moves smoothly from energetic romantic conflict to moments of powerful chemistry between the hero and heroine, from conflict to heartwarming tenderness, with several wonderful surprises along the way. Heart-warming scenes in this romance reach out beyond the hero and heroine's story to the reader's heart. The Bride's Baby is a romance that a reader will want to share with friend's and family. A keeper!" 


Merrimon Book Reviews



"This is another dazzling story from the pen of Liz Fielding. Sylvie is a tough, no-nonsense heroine, and Tom is a gorgeous hero to fall in love with – and fall I did!  As well as enjoying the heartfelt emotion, I loved the humour in Sylvie’s “Oh, confetti” moments! As always, Liz Fielding has woven pure magic and by the end of the book she has her readers breathing a sigh or relief and contentment.  Another for the keeper shelf!"


The Pink Heart Society


"The Bride’s Baby is an emotionally intense story with extra layers added to the plot and characters.  I enjoyed Sylvie and Tom’s rocky road to their HEA."

Once Upon a Romance




It’s the wedding planner’s worst nightmare and when the bride elopes with one of her staff three days before the wedding, it isn’t only the groom’s heart that has a debit balance.  Sylvie Smith has bills to pay.  The jilted groom has his own way of settling debts, however.


Six months on, wedding organiser to the seriously rich, Sylvie Smith is organising a glittering fundraising event:  a fantasy wedding at a wedding show, held in a stately home that will be featured in a lifestyle magazine.   Not just any fantasy wedding.  They want her fantasy…


It should be every woman’s dream, designing her own dream wedding with no expense spared, but for Sylvie it was her worst nightmare.


One, she’s pregnant.  Two, Longbourne Court was her ancestral home and she’s just discovered that the new owner is Tom McFarlane:  her baby’s secret father.


Now Tom’s standing in front of her, looking at her bump…

Check out the joint A Bride for All Seasons blog for wedding tips and behind the scenes info from authors Fiona Harper, Trish Wylie, Shirley Jump and Liz!


‘What kept you?’

Sylvie had buzzed him so that he could let her into the basement parking garage and by the time she’d pulled into the bay by the private lift that would take her directly to his penthouse loft, he was there, waiting for her.

His impatience touched a chord deep within her.  Despite her very real, her justifiable anger with Tom McFarlane, her own impatience with every interruption, every traffic delay was driven not by her need to be with an important client in Chelsea, but by some blind, completely insane desire to get back to him.  To renew the edgy, heat-filled connection. 

He might make her angry, but for the first time in years she felt like a woman and it was addictive...  

‘I can manage,’ she assured him as he opened the door, offered her a helping hand.  The default reaction of the modern woman.  When did that happen?

It didn’t matter, he took no notice.  ‘I’ve seen you manage once today.  Since I’ve already seen your underwear, this time we’ll do it my way.’

‘A gentleman wouldn’t have looked,’ she gasped, outraged.  Outraged by the fact that he obviously thought her legs not worth a second look.

‘Is that a fact?  I guess that just proves that I'm not a gentleman.’  His eyes gleamed in the dim light of the underground garage.  ‘Didn’t your old school chum tell you that it was one of things she liked most about me?  After my money.  The risk?  The realisation that for once in her life she wasn’t in control.’  He leaned close enough for her to feel his breath upon her cheek.  For every cell to quiver with a heightened awareness.  Her skin to goose.  ‘That she was playing with fire.’

Sylvie’s mouth dried.

It worked for her.

‘But then again,’ he said, straightening, ‘you’re no lady, Miss Smith, or you’d have accepted my offer of assistance.  So, shall we try it again?  Need a hand?’

‘The only help I need is with the boxes,’ she declared, angrily.  She certainly didn’t need to hitch up her skirt to get down.  All she had to do was swing her legs over the side and drop to the floor, but then again, Tom McFarlane was going out of his way to rile her, so why make it easy for him?

It wasn’t as if she’d wanted to organise this wedding in the first place – especially not once she’d met the groom -- but Candy had begged and when she wanted something, no one could deny her anything.

Except, it seemed, Tom McFarlane. 

And maybe the house in Belgravia and the country estate were, after all, non-negotiable if you weren’t marrying for love... 

In retrospect, Sylvie thought, it was easy to see why she'd left so much of the detail to Quentin, but it really was too bad that, when all her instincts had been proved right, she was being punished by this man not just for her bad judgement, but for his, too.

And her body seemed intent on joining in.

Maybe that was why, instead of jumping down, she put her hands flat against the seams of her skirt in a deliberately provocative manner, as a prelude to sliding it back up her legs.

To punish him – punish them both -- right back. 

Tom McFarlane couldn’t believe the way he was behaving.  He was already calling himself every kind of a fool.  He’d cleared his desk in preparation for a month away and all he’d had to do was get on a plane.  Instead he demanded Sylvie Smith’s presence in his office to explain her invoice.  And then, as if that hadn’t been sufficient misery for both of them, he’d made a complete fool himself by demanding she deliver a pile useless junk to his apartment.  

He’d already put himself through an afternoon of torment looking at her long legs as she’d crossed and re-crossed them.  Her sexy high-heeled shoes highlighting the beauty of slender ankles. 

They were the kind of legs that could give a man ideas -- always assuming he hadn’t got them the minute he’d set eyes on her.  Hadn’t had the best part of two hours, while she’d kept him waiting, to think about them.

But enough was enough and before she could repeat the move with the skirt, he snatched back control, seizing her around the waist to lift her down.

Taken by surprise, she gasped as she grabbed for his shoulders, bunching his shirt in her hands as she clung to him.  She was not the only one short of breath.  Close up, by the armful, Sylvie Smith’s figure more than lived up to the promise glimpsed when she'd unbuttoned that sexy little jacket.  All soft curves, it was the kind of figure that would look perfect in something soft and clinging.  Would look even better out of it.

For a moment they were poised, locked together, just two people, holding each other, heat sizzling between them with only one thing on their mind – and it sure as hell wasn’t wedding stationery. 

A wisp of her streaky blonde hair brushed against his cheek and, as naturally as breathing, his hand slipped beneath the chocolate silk to cradle her ribcage, his thumb teasing the edge of a lace bra that he knew would exactly match the trim on what could only be French knickers.

There was no exclamation of outrage.  Instead, as his thumb swept up over the aroused peak of her nipple, Sylvie Smith’s lips parted, her breathing grew ragged and the look in her eyes was pure invitation as she seemed to melt against him, clinging to his shoulders as if they were the only thing keeping her on her feet.

It would be impossible to say whether it was the shudder that ran through her, her tongue moistening her hot, full lower lip, or the tiny moan low in her throat that precipitated what happened next.

Or maybe it was none of those things.  Maybe this had been in his mind from the very beginning, from the minute he first set eyes on her six months ago when he'd walked into her office and  had instantly wanted to be anywhere else in the world. 

Why he’d provoked today’s meeting.

Because this raw, atavistic connection between two strangers, rather than a wedding that had lain like the lead in his gut for weeks, was what today had been all about and the connection between them was as inevitable as it was explosive.

Control?  Who did he think he was kidding...?

As his lips touched hers it was like oxygen to a fire that had been smouldering, unseen for months.  One minute there’s nothing.  The next it’s wildfire.  Unstoppable...   

Somehow they made it to the lift and he groped blindly for the key that closed the doors, sending it silently upward as they tore at the fastenings on each other’s clothes, desperate for skin again skin.  Just desperate.



From the book THE BRIDE'S BABY by Liz Fielding
Miniseries: A Bride for all Seasons

ISBN 978-0263865066  (UK)
Imprint: Romance TM & Harlequin Romance (R)
(R) & TM are trademarks of the publisher




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