Aubrey Wynne's Blog

A guest post by Eric Grandy and excerpt from ACCIDENTAL PARADISE

Question for the author: Did you have a minor character who insisted on playing a larger a larger role in the story? If so, please tell us about it.  If not, please tell me how you get the characters in your head to behave.

The minor character who played a larger role than I initially anticipated was Earl Jackson, Shaundra’s criminal brother. After his appearance in the first chapter, where he and his two cohorts tormented LaVern on the way from school, I didn’t foresee a larger role for him. His sole responsibility, at that point, was to create the angst that drew LaVern and Shaundra together and initiated a life-long friendship.  I saw a place for him later when LaVern, now a bona fide movie star, was present when she moved her parents out of their East Baltimore neighborhood. He was still the thug she remembered from her childhood, and through his street- weary eyes, he silently witnessed the Whitaker family moving on to better things. It reminds the reader of the choices one makes in life and their subsequent ramifications.

Towards the end of my book, when LaVern decided to establish her foundation, I didn’t have Earle in mind. But what better symbol of the foundations mission statement, to recognize that everybody wasn’t college material and that others need a life sustaining skill, than Earl Jackson? It only seemed appropriate that he resurface, posthumously, as the newly established job training center’s namesake, The Earle Jackson Project.

I’d like to touch on your second question. How do I get the characters in my head to behave? Even though this story is fictional, lots of my characters and events are based on reality. I take mannerisms and tendences from people I’ve met and use circumstances I or friends of mine have experienced. This fact-based reality leads me in a direction the dictates how these places and people should naturally fall into my manuscript.

 

ACCIDENTAL PARADISE

by Eric Grandy

GENRE: Coming of Age

BLURB:

Natural talent, hard work, and a childhood friend help LaVern Whitaker find her calling as an actress.  When her life becomes overwhelming, they discover a small town where her true identity can remain unknown and she can stay out of the spotlight.  The more she visits her secret getaway, the more deeply she feels connected to the history, the lifestyle, and the people.  Could this place be her home away from home, or become the home she has dreamed of?  Or will sinister forces rip it all away?

Excerpt  

“I’m going to miss you so much sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

The tears began to flow.

“I’m going to miss you too, Mom.”

“I miss you already, Peaches,” cried Shaundra. “You better text me every day.”

LaVern broke her tight hold on her mother and transferred it to Shaundra.

“I told you a long time ago that nothing will ever come between us. I meant it then and I mean it now.” She clutched her best friend even tighter. Then it was Freeman’s turn. He’d been holding off his goodbye intentionally. He wrapped his arms around his daughter and held on. He rested his chin on her head. LaVern was sobbing uncontrollably, but she didn’t let go. He finally relaxed his grip and looked directly into LaVern’s crying eyes.

“I want you to know you have made your mother and me so proud, Peaches.” He wiped a tear from his daughter’s face with his thumb. “You’re ready for this. You’ve been preparing your whole life.”

“Thank you, Daddy. I love you so much.”

He released his daughter, picked up the luggage and, along with everyone else, headed outside. LaVern turned to take one last look. The realization that she wouldn’t be back for months was just hitting her. It’s really happening, she thought. I’m actually leaving. She closed and locked the door. The second part of her life was about to begin.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Eric Grandy was born and raised in Baltimore City and graduated from City College. After he graduated from Essex Community College, he was drafted by the Chicago Cubs and played six years for that team. He went on to a variety of jobs: photographer, lab manager, driver for DHL and warehouse manager. After retirement, he decided to devote himself to writing, producing several short stories and Accidental Paradise, his debut novel.

Grandy still lives in Baltimore with his wife Rhonda and his daughter Marti.

Shop Now  https://www.amazon.com/Accidental-Paradise-Eric-Grandy/dp/B0FKPYYH8S

Eric Grandy will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.

 

Giveaway not loading? Click this link Enter to win a $25 Amazon/BN gift card.

An excerpt from Barnabas Bartholomew and the Undead Freshmen by Matthew Lett

Barnabas Bartholomew and the Undead Freshmen
Matthew Lett
Publication date: September 16th 2025
Genres: Coming of Age, Fantasy

Death isn’t the end of education—at least not at UniverZity U., where fourteen-year-old Barnabas “Barney” Bartholomew is about to begin his freshman year.

As a recently raised zombie trying to make his undead mother proud, Barney must navigate the haunted halls of an underground mausoleum-turned-school, where strict Crypt Keepers enforce ancient rules and mysterious passages hide untold dangers. With fellow freshman facing expulsion for merely refusing to eat their grits, Barney knows he’ll need more than just good grades to survive. But when he discovers his beloved grandfather’s connection to this shadowy institution, Barney realizes there might be more to UniversZity U.—and himself—than meets his speckled blue eyes.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“What in the heck is a lich?” Barney asked.

“It’s a member of the Undead class, like us, except it was brought back to life by a sorcerer or a necromancer for evil purposes.”

“What sort of evil purposes?” Barney asked. There was a knot in his stomach; a bundle of nerves resting on the edge of a guillotine.

“Hard to tell,” Pudgy replied. “Depends on what the sorcerer wants the lich to do. He could use it as an assassin, I suppose, to knock off his enemies, or as a bodyguard. Or in this case, a guard dog over a graveyard.”

“But why a graveyard? What would a sorcerer want in a graveyard anyway? And what if it’s not even there? This lich thing. Suppose it’s gone?”

Pudgy shrugged. “Then it’s gone and we don’t have to worry about anything. But if it is real, and there is a lich wandering around, it’ll be looking for souls to eat. That’s why we need the crucifix, to repel it.”

“’Souls to eat?’” Barney repeated. “Are you serious?” He felt light-headed for a second; the world beyond his eyes in a lazy swoon.

“Quite serious,” Pudgy answered. “That’s what liches do. They eat the undead, and if they can, they’ll eat their souls too.”

Barney’s face paled at the thought. An undead cannibal running around the graveyard? That’s what it was! An undead cannibal! The dead eating the dead, for Christ’s sake!

Pudgy caught the look on Barney’s face; pallid, the sickly color of cream cheese left out in the sun for too long. He snickered. “Hey, calm down. It’s a legend, remember? We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Barney didn’t answer, his tongue frozen to the roof of his mouth, when Millicent cleared her throat. “Guys?” She tapped the face of her wristwatch. “We need to go if we plan on making curfew. You can discuss the ins-and-outs of liches later, but we need to move.”

“You’re right,” Pudgy said. “I’ll take the lead with the flashlight. Milly, you’ll be behind me. Barney next and then Marcy, and I don’t want you two kissing back there. Agreed?”

Barney blushed clear to his toes. Marcy smiled at him. Millicent laughed out loud and Pudgy winked at Barney, who was staring at the tops of his shoes with a sheepish grin. “Yeah, yeah, okay…” he mumbled. “Funny, real funny, now can we go?”

And so they entered the southwest tunnel, its passages by now near memorized. It was more of a home away from home for the children; its twists and turns nothing more than well-travelled streets and avenues in their hometowns.

Barney stepped through (minus his flashlight which he’d given to Pudgy), when a thought struck him like a phantom stone in the darkness: Pudgy never fully answered my question, he thought. Why the graveyard? Why would a sorcerer (or a necromancer, for that matter) want a lich guarding a graveyard for him? Hmmm…

###

The trip to the graveyard took less than forty-five minutes, and the four of them arrived to find the wrought iron gates unlocked, and the tombstones shrouded in a silky mist of pale fog. A raven, with one eye missing, was perched on a spire atop the gate. It looked down at the children, as if considering their plight, then cawed in its shrill voice a single word they heard all too well:

“BEWARE!”

The raven took flight after its portent of doom. It did a hop and a half-skip, spread its wings, and then soared over the face of the moon reflected in the wavering mist. The raven disappeared as Pudgy opened the gate in a scream of rust. It was loud in the tranquil of the graveyard; as good as any doorbell that rings after midnight.

“Smooth move,” Barney quipped.

“Sorry,” Pudgy said. “I didn’t expect that. Let’s go.”

They walked through the gates; their eyes blind, sinking in what they could not see. Silence–the full-time caretaker of the grounds–greeted them. Distant thunder rolled over the clouds in the east. Lightning followed and took a snapshot of the graveyard for posterity’s sake.

And had there been a black cat perched on the back of a tombstone, with its yellow lamp-lit eyes and its spine arched in a splay of fur, it would not have surprised Barney in the least. The graveyard was spooky, if not picturesque in the simmering light of the moon; a mural better suited on the backdrop of a Halloween landscape.

“What now?” Barney whispered. The air was dank, hollow somehow. There was no need to whisper, but the graveyard almost demanded—dared that it be so upon its consecrated ground.

Author Bio:

Matthew Lett was born in Kassel, Germany. Currently, he lives in Sapulpa, Oklahoma with his wife of 39 years, and their two daughters, who also reside in Oklahoma. He’s also a Veteran of the United States Navy, serving on both the U.S.S. Saratoga and U.S.S. America aircraft carriers from 1985-1989. Matthew has been a prolific writer for over 20 years and is a multi-published author with an array of Novels, Novellas, Novelettes, and assorted short stories in a variety of genres. Most of his work can be found in Horror/Suspense/Mystery categories.
During his leisure time, Matthew enjoys rock-n’-roll music, attends church on a regular basis, watches Mystery Science Theatre 3000, reading, and playing with his 3 grandchildren. And of course, Writing. His books include such titles as, “He Who Walks the Corridors,” (Wolf on Water pub.), “Trail of Love and Death,”, “Woodview Heights: Legacy of Decadence” Trilogy and “Barnabas Bartholomew and The Undead Freshmen.”
Matthew Lett can be reached via e-mail for comments, feedback, and suggestions at matthew74107@yahoo.com

 

GIVEAWAY!

Barnabas Bartholomew and the Undead Freshmen Blitz

—

The Vanishing Castle by Marlena Cannon with giveaway

The Vanishing Castle

Marlena Cannon
Matthew Lett
Publication date: September 23rd 2025
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery, Fantasy

A fantasy mystery with hooves and heart. Simarron isn’t a detective, he’s just a centaur with a clipboard and a nose for trouble. He left his homeland to get a professional job in the city as a magical safety inspector. However, his new life isn’t quite as he imagined it to be and his fellow housemates at Slant Row Boarding House (which is definitely not haunted) are shadier than an enchanted forest. When a castle disappears and an alchemist ends up dead, Simarron must choose between the cozy, safe rule-bound life he’s always dreamed of and the principles that won’t let him walk away. He is a safety inspector, after all, and the city isn’t safe with a killer on the loose. A cozy mystery set in a richly imagined gaslamp fantasy world, The Vanishing Castle delights with magical intrigue, a quirky found family, and a centaur sleuth you won’t soon forget.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

So, you want to be a magical safety inspector?

Checking my pocket watch, I scuffed the moisture off my hooves as I entered the brick building. Inside, a framed newspaper article announced the founding of the Magic and Alchemy Safety and Health Administration just ten years ago. But the smell of dust, lamp oil, and crumbling paper told a different story, one far older. I caught a dim reflection of myself in the glass—enough to see that my auburn mane looked presentable—but I smoothed it down anyway while I waited.

My gaze restlessly traveled the shelves containing old books and magical oddities, including a globe of the world adorned with dynamic swirls of clouds that flowed over the model. The morning light streamed in from a pair of narrow, floor-to-ceiling windows, brightening the dark wood and heavy silence of the interior.

I glanced at my pocket watch again—one minute until my appointment. Inconveniently, the desk positioned outside the director’s office was unoccupied. Not a secretary in sight. Oh, no—they didn’t expect me to interview for a secretary position, did they?

An indistinct figure moved beyond the glass-paneled door. I shifted from hoof to hoof. What was I to do in this situation, knock or wait one more minute?

By the time I worked up the nerve to announce my presence, two more minutes ticked by. Dread slid its icy fingers into my chest, warning me that I was now late, and gave me the final push to act.

I reached forward to knock, pausing when I heard footsteps shuffle to a halt on the other side. I backed up awkwardly, my hooves clattering on the wood floor as the door swung outward.

“Hello, you must be Simarron! I’m Ken Moosekind, Executive Director of MASHA,” said a squinty man with a bushy mustache whose robes smelled faintly of tobacco. “Come in, lad, and mind your head.” He retreated behind his cluttered desk.

I ducked my head slightly, entering the office: a place of organized chaos. Books and files sat piled atop cabinets and shelves—even on the floor. Wood scraped on wood as I moved aside a chair and settled down on my haunches opposite the director.

Director Moosekind shifted a stack of papers aside. “So, Simarron, you want to join MASHA as a magical safety inspector, do you?”

 

Author Bio:

Marlena Cannon grew up reading “The Cat Who…” mysteries by Lilian Jackson Braun and writing stories of her own. She kept writing intermittently over the years, eventually pursuing her dream by completing the DIY MFA program in 2023, where she drafted “The Vanishing Castle,” inspired by one of her childhood projects. She also designed the cover using her background in graphic design. Marlena lives with her husband and their rescue rabbits.

Website / Goodreads / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

The Vanishing Castle Blitz

—

The Itch of Greed by Christa Nardi

The Itch of Greed
Christa Nardi
(Izzie Di Sante Mysteries, #6)
Publication date: September 22nd 2025
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery

A dark cloud hangs over baseball season in small town Rosedale when star pitcher Randy Kampton is taken out of the game for good.

The DA is determined to pin the crime on Cole Rigley, a friend’s brother and fellow pitcher, citing the fierce competition for a major league trade as his motive for murder. Rigley’s brother, asks Henry and reluctant restaurant owner Izzie Di Sante to help prove his innocence. Adding fuel to the fire, Kampton stole Rigley’s girlfriend months earlier.

While Kampton’s pitching skills are universally acknowledged, no one, not fans or teammates, has a kind word to say about him, making for a long list of suspects. Rigley, on the other hand, is respected for his talent and team spirit. The wild card is another pitcher recovering from a car accident, whose open roster spot has all three men vying for the same prize.

In Rosedale, loyalty to the minor league team runs deep, and Izzie’s digging into the players’ pasts draws resentment from fans, police, and management alike. When the team’s PR person is targeted after meeting with her, the threats become all too real. The closer Izzie gets to uncovering the truth, on and off the field, the higher the stakes, and the more dangerous the game becomes.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

CHAPTER 1:

An alert sounded on my phone as I entered Cenare, the Italian restaurant I owned with my sister Chloe. While Chloe was a foodie, I took care of the business side of things. Before our parents died, I freelanced as a journalist following homicides in New York City.

I was committed to the restaurant and Chloe, but my passion was murder, so I kept the homicide alerts coming. Occasionally, if one sparked my interest, I took some time to search out my next story. Homicides provided a rush the restaurant business didn’t give me. I put my things down on the small table in the kitchen area and pulled up the message.

“Breaking news! The Rosedale Thorny Bats will be hurting this season. Their best pitcher, Randy Kampton, died under suspicious circumstances. His body was discovered by the custodians in the Thorny Bats locker room early this morning. Stay tuned for details.”

The announcement prompted me to check my other sources for unsolved homicides, although I’d never heard of the Thorny Bats or Kampton. I assumed if the man was a pitcher, the sport was baseball. It was spring and our guests or employees occasionally mentioned baseball. Growing up, Chloe and I spent most of our time in the restaurant. We lived and breathed Cenare.

My escape was writing. I knew from experience that the death of those close to you changed your life. My stories focused on the impact of a sudden death – usually a homicide – on those left behind. I found less resistance from law enforcement when I focused on cold cases or those that were stalled. Most often, my casual interviews with those who knew the victim provided clues to the killer.

Unfortunately, sometimes the killer targeted me. Having lived in New York City for five years, I was prepared for that, even in small town Pinewood, Maryland, where murders rarely happened. With the first ever murder in our small town a few years back, I clashed with the local police detective when the immediate conclusion was a burglary, and I disagreed. For the record, I was right.

With the murder of an athlete, Kampton’s death would likely be quickly solved if the alert was any indication. Not finding anything else of note in the alerts, I went through my morning routine of checking income, paying bills, placing orders, and taking inventory. At least I used my degree in business management. I preferred taking care of those tedious tasks before anyone else arrived.

As usual, Chloe arrived with a breakfast treat as I finished the accounting and started the inventory.

“Good morning, Chloe. Those look and smell delicious.”

“Thanks, Izzie. Help yourself. I got this idea in my head and combined ingredients from an apple brownie recipe and a cinnamon streusel cupcake. Ryan assured me they were more than edible.” With money from the estate and the restaurant, Chloe had completed her training at the culinary institute nearby. In and out of the restaurant, she often created dishes. Breakfast for me and whomever else wanted a taste tended not to be traditional Italian. For the restaurant, she kept with the family tradition and stuck to Italian dishes.

I chuckled. “I don’t know how you can cook here all day and then try out new things when you get home.”

“Well, Ryan brought some work home that he needed to get done like yesterday. Only he didn’t get the assignment until that morning.” She shrugged. “I got creative in the kitchen while he worked.”

Since she and Ryan married a few months ago, she hadn’t been as creative with her morning treats, though I could always count on her to provide my breakfast. When she took a week off for her honeymoon, I had to fend for myself, usually stopping at the local bakery on my way to work.

“It’s delicious! Not quite brownie and not quite muffin. Still very moist and I’m a sucker for cinnamon and apples. I’ll have to freeze some of these for the next time I see Henry. Now that he’s taken the detective exam and he may be working part time in Franklin, I hope to see him more often.”

Henry and I had started off as friends and our relationship moved forward from there. He was always a willing assistant and backup when I pursued a story. Helping me out prompted him to pursue his private investigator credentials.

“Speak of the devil.” I showed Chloe the phone, took the container of treats, and sat down at the table.

“Hi, Henry. How are you?”

“Good. I may have a case for you and wanted to give you a heads up. Do you have a few minutes?”

I grabbed a piece of paper off the nearby printer. “Sure. What’s going on?”

“You know the guy who always gives me a hard time about driving an automatic or having a family car? Phil Rigley?”

“Dark hair, hazel eyes, not quite as tall as you, and maybe a year or two younger. A southern twang.”

“That’s him. He called this morning, wanting my opinion. His brother, Cole, plays ball with the Thorny Bats. Cole contacted Phil this morning. Something about a player dying and the police interviewing everyone. Phil didn’t have many details, but he wanted me to look into it.”

My phone pinged with an alert. “I caught one announcement earlier and then another just came in. A custodian found Randy Kampton, a pitcher for that team, dead this morning. It was a sports broadcaster the first time, the usual police blotter the second time. Nothing else. Where did the Thorny Bats come from? Is there a new major league team in Maryland?”

“No. The Baltimore Orioles is the only major league team. The Thorny Bats is a triple-A minor league team out in Rosedale. The players are good and some eventually get picked up by a major league team. I played in college and a few of my teammates went on to the minor leagues. We lost touch but I may see if I can locate them.”

“The news I caught indicated a suspicious death. Thorny Bats is a weird name for a team though.”

“Minor league teams often have interesting names, usually related somehow to their location and often suggested by fans. Rosedale, thorns, and baseball bats – Thorny Bats. Makes perfect sense to me.” He chuckled. “Keep me posted. If it’s a homicide, Phil thinks his brother will be a person of interest. Both Cole and Kampton are pitchers, and Kampton stole his girlfriend.”

“Both would give Cole two motives. I’ll call you after lunch with any updates. Katie just walked in. Right now I best finish the inventory and start the lunch prep.”

Katie was a chef-intern from the culinary institute. We’d hired two to help Chloe and relieve her of 12-hour days. A brunette in her mid-twenties, Katie stood a good six inches shorter than my five foot ten, with the figure of someone who competed in gymnastics through high school and still used her gym membership. She added to Chloe’s energy in the kitchen. Chloe hummed and listened to her favorite tunes when not directing Katie. They worked well together and became fast friends.

Jerry, another intern, comes in mid-afternoon, when Katie leaves. Jerry towers over Katie at six foot. Husky, he looks more like a bodyguard than a chef. Before switching careers after twenty years, Jerry worked for stuffed-shirt lawyers as a paralegal. He burned out about the time his mother became ill. He started as a server and moved into the second intern position. Jerry’s personality and age lent itself to being a calming influence in the kitchen.

“Katie, be sure to try Chloe’s latest breakfast treat, but save some for Henry, please.”

She laughed. “Will do.”

Inventory done, I moved to the restaurant side. As I dressed tables, Jennifer, the manager, joined me. She became the manager when the original manager left. A long-term employee since before Chloe and I took over, Jennifer was in her mid-thirties, older than both Chloe and me. She continued in the role of server most often, but also helped with training new servers, and took on hostess responsibilities when I took time off to chase down a story.

As the waitstaff filtered in, I raced upstairs and put on a dress, a throwback to when our parents were alive. Our mother thought it added an element of class and set Cenare apart from fast-food places. As I reentered the kitchen area, I took a deep breath. I might not be a foodie, but the smell of the spices made me smile.

Lunch went smoothly and I fidgeted at the hostess stand. I wanted to check my computer and phone for any updates on the Kampton death. It had been months since a case grabbed my attention. This time, it sounded like Henry and his buddy wanted me involved. I wasn’t too sure how the league, minor or otherwise, would appreciate me asking questions. Sometimes questions uncovered secrets best left untold, at least from their perspective.

Author Bio:

Christa Nardi is an accomplished author of cozy mysteries with an edge – still no graphic violence or sex or profanity, but touching on social issues. Christa’s background is in higher education and psychology, much as her protagonists, Sheridan Hendley in the Cold Creek and Sheridan Hendley mystery, along with Stacie Maroni in the Stacie Maroni mystery series. She has always loved mysteries – reading them, writing them, and solving them. She reviews books on her blog, predominantly cozy mysteries.

Christa is a member of Sisters in Crime and can be found on occasion at Bouchercon, Killer Nashville, or Malice Domestic. She writes four series: Cold Creek Cozy Mysteries, Sheridan Hendley Mysteries, Stacie Maroni Mysteries, and the Izzie Di Sante mysteries. Christa also collaborates with Cassidy Salem in writing the Hannah and Tamar Mysteries, featuring teen sleuth sisters.

When not writing or reading, Christa and her husband enjoy travel, their three grandchildren, and their dogs. Christa supports dog rescue and local shelters.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Instagram

 

GIVEAWAY!

The Itch of Greed Blitz

—

Excerpt from The Champagne Crush by Caroline O’ Connell plus a giveaway

The Champagne Crush
Caroline O’ Connell
(Les Femmes Series)
Publication date: September 16th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

For fans of The Paradise Problem, a slow-burn romance about a socialite in over her head in a high-stakes job promoting a new sparkling wine with a difficult boss who wants to see her fail—despite the electric sparks flying between them.

Catherine Reynolds has enjoyed a life of luxury, but her diplomat parents have cut her off financially, leaving her flat broke. She is determined to turn things around and gain her independence—so, when an old family friend offers her a lifeline as a PR consultant for his sparkling wine company, she jumps at the chance. But working with Chris McDermott, the company’s sexy, stubborn president, is anything but easy.

A purist at heart, Chris clashes with Catherine’s glitzy marketing flair; still, the chemistry between them is undeniable. As they travel from New York to Napa, Paris, and the Champagne region of France, their partnership blossoms amid high-stakes industry rivalries and a launch that could make or break them.

When sabotage threatens to shatter their dreams, Catherine must dig deep to prove her worth. With the dazzling unveiling of their new sparkling wine in Bordeaux in jeopardy, will she and Chris overcome the challenges of the past and present to secure their future—and find love in the process?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

Excerpt

Sightseeing in Paris

(after work trip to Champagne)

 

As they walked out, Chris asked, “What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?”

Catherine’s eyes lit up. “Shopping, of course, though I’m on a tight budget. Mind if we stop at my favorite lingerie boutique?”

Chris draped his arm around her shoulders. “Far from it. Consider it my duty to assist in your choices—after you’ve modeled the contenders.”

“Sounds like an athletic event,” she said.

“Might very well be after you’re done.” Chris’s arm around her tightened as they found a nearby cab.

“What’s so special about this place?” he asked during their ride over to the Right Bank.

“Family tradition. My French grandma used to take me there. Herminie Cadolle is credited with inventing the bra in the late 1800s. She cut a corset in half and voilà.” Catherine made a cutting gesture across her chest. “Every garment was handmade, called sur mesure, to fit each woman’s body. Now much of their lingerie is ready to wear, prêt à porter.”

“Don’t they sell stuff like this in New York?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Cadolle is still run by Herminie’s descendants—same high standards, top silk and black French lace, quality craftsmanship.”

Ten minutes later, they walked into the boutique on Rue Cambon. A young saleslady welcomed them and directed Chris to a sitting area. Catherine perused ensembles hanging artfully on a partition while Chris was served coffee. Then the ladies got to work.

Catherine had a gift card from her French grandma; she hoped the amount would cover a matching bra and panty set and a silk cami. In her modeling days, she and Vanessa had worn camisoles as an undergarment for an extra layer to stay warm or as a sexy top under a fitted suit jacket, buttoned up partway with the lace peeking out.

The saleslady understood exactly what Catherine preferred and they had a good selection in Catherine’s small size. Catherine playfully dangled a few lacy nothings in front of Chris on her way to the dressing room. She’d never been to a lingerie store with a man waiting nearby. She found it incredibly sexy. As she tried on each delicate bra and panties set, she envisioned modeling them for him.

Catherine knew she was playing with fire and had some trepidation. Chris had made his intentions crystal clear. No holds barred while they were in Paris. After the trip, they’d go back to their agreement to wait until the launch.

She was intensely attracted to him. Her quandary: She had difficulty letting her guard down when it came to intimacy. She might freeze up. That could nix this love affair before it started. She liked him so much she was willing to take the gamble.

 

There’s something to this French stuff, Chris mused, while waiting on a velvet settee with a cup of strong coffee. The French didn’t hide their appreciation for sexy lingerie. He’d passed more boutiques displaying lacy bras and barely-there undies on the streets of Paris than in any other city. Of course, the woman who’d captured his interest was all in on this enticing game.

In a dressing room nearby, she was in the process of selecting an ensemble that he hoped to get her to model for him in private, post haste. Fortunately, their hotel was a few blocks away.

Catherine emerged with her purchases in a decorative gold bag and looked pleased with the results. This woman really does like to shop.

They got back to the hotel in record time. Chris suggested a stop at the Costes bar for a late-afternoon cocktail. He managed to find a dark corner where they could sit side by side in a secluded leather booth with no distractions. After ordering the house specialty—a pitcher of Caipirinha, sugar cane, liquor, and lime—Chris reached for Catherine’s hand.

I’m head over heels for this woman. He hoped she felt the same and it wasn’t a dalliance on her part.

 

Also check out Caroline’s other book, Affordable Paris Hotels!
Your Ultimate Guide to a Perfect Trip to Paris is the must-have resource for travelers who want charm, comfort, and location—without the luxury hotel price tag.

—

 

Author Bio:

CAROLINE O’CONNELL has written five travel guides and numerous travel articles for magazines, newspapers, and websites. Her Romance In Paris guide has won widespread praise: “There is no better person to guide you through Paris than Caroline” — Peter Greenberg, the Travel Detective, radio host, and Travel Editor on CBS-TV. And Library Journal raved — “Reading this breezy but informative guide to Paris is like having a series of conversations with a well-traveled friend…”

Her debut novel, THE CHAMPAGNE CRUSH: A Romance Novel (Spark Press), is due out on September 16, 2025.

Website / Goodreads / Twitter

 

GIVEAWAY!

The Champagne Crush Blitz

—

Never Marry the Best Man by Julia Kent with excerpt and giveway

Never Marry the Best Man
Julia Kent
(Whatever It Takes, #4)
Publication date: September 9th 2025
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

There’s no way the hot relative of a minor British royal is hitting on her. She’s misreading everything, right?

Except there’s no mistaking that proposal.

When 50something Ranney Martini (yes, Nessa’s mom!) finds herself being courted by the very English best man in a minor royal’s wedding she’s managing, she can’t help but laugh. He’s 17 years her junior, smoking hot, and an award-winning architect. The flirting is all in her imagination.

Of course it is.

But when a strange twist of fate leaves them trapped in Las Vegas, and Tom has a sudden need for American citizenship – faster than fast – Ranney proves she’s the consummate professional.

Because when you’re a wedding protector, you do whatever it takes to make the perfect wedding.

Even marrying the very handsome best man.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

Tom cleared his throat.

“I know you’re on the clock, and this is a mess, but Jack’s with Chunk and we have no idea what’s happening next. Emergency rooms take hours, so we have some time. What would you like to do? Are you hungry? Shall we get some dinner? I’ve never seen Las Vegas before. Shall we take a look around?”

“From what I’ve seen of your work, I don’t think you’re going to like the aesthetic here very much.” Ranney had only been there once before, with Carmine, for some sort of packaging expo. She’d spent most of her time by the hotel pool and therefore avoided the stereotypical Vegas experience. The desert weather had been lovely, the hotel food was exceptional, and she never set foot in a casino or even pulled a slot machine handle.

“But it’s iconic! Come on, I can’t be here on the ground and not see it, I may never be back!”

“Tom, what about the wedding party? You’re supposed to be hanging out with them!”

“I already explained that. They’re my relatives and a bunch of future in laws of Charlie’s. I can be with them anytime. I can’t be with you anytime. And certainly not in Las Vegas, Nevada.”

And that was the moment when she realized just how much she wanted to go with him. She wanted to see Las Vegas–with him. She wanted to sit next to him in the back of an Uber and listen to him talk. Lean against him, close enough to breathe the scent of his skin. Hear everything that had ever happened to him before they met, even if he told her in that annoying British accent–which was becoming less annoying and more charming by the minute.

Dear God, was this some unanticipated perimenopausal side effect? In all the articles that she’d read on the subject, had this ever been mentioned? Intense and inappropriate lust for a virtual stranger?

Speaking of inappropriate, what exactly was his age, anyway? She needed another look at his profile and she needed it now. Because if he was anywhere near her daughter’s age–if he was young enough, say, to have attended one of Nessa’s childhood birthday parties–she was going to fake stomach flu and get on the next plane home. Claire could have this entire field all to herself, whether she was capable or not.

“Are you all right?” Tom asked. “You’re looking a bit… shaken up. I thought emergencies were your specialty?”

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.

From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).

She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.

She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / Amazon / Newsletter

 

GIVEAWAY!

Never Marry the Best Man Blitz

—

Songs, Sails & Silly Dating Schemes by Cindy Kehagiaras with excerpt and giveaway

Songs, Sails & Silly Dating Schemes
Cindy Kehagiaras
(A Love In Destiny Romance)
Publication date: September 2nd 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Shay Lazar was a childhood TV star and a 1990s “It Girl,” but left the spotlight to raise her two kids and be the supportive partner to “America’s Sweetheart,” Jack Cole…for almost thirty years. Now she wants back into the Hollywood Machine at fifty-two but the producer for show she wants to do called her Jack’s “Doormat”. Now she’s reassessing her life by hiding at her aunt’s house in Destiny, Florida, after a very publicized and possibly a career-ending incident.

Drew Slater wants to be left alone. The former ‘One-Hit-Wonder’ will never play his song again. He’s pretending his life is settled, but when a star falls out of the sky and onto his boat, he knows a hurricane is coming, and her name is Shay Lazar.

Songs, Sails & Silly Dating Schemes is a steamy over-40 romance set in the magical town of Destiny with Yacht Rock vibes and a Fake Dating Trope gone right with a stunning Hollywood Ending. SS&SDS is the fourth book in the Destiny Romance Series.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

He drove straight out onto the runway of the small airport, then came to a stop next to another police cruiser with its lights off, a big black Lincoln Navigator sat at the base of an impressive private jet. The stairs were down and the light inside glowed behind the sheen of the early morning mist. A peach illumination in the distance reminded me how much I hated sunrises these days.

I used to love them. Seeing a sunrise meant I’d spent an entire night with friends and lovers talking and partying all the way to the next day. It meant I was living, really living. Not waisting too much time asleep but being awake and free to create music and memories. That was long ago. Three lifetimes ago. Now it meant I couldn’t sleep. That the memories kept me awake. That I was still living and forced to be a functioning human. I was surviving enough for my daughter and her insistence that I stay in her life, when she wasn’t mad at me. And the music, always the music, but other people’s music. Not mine, never mine. “Alright.” Kurt met me at the top of the stairs. “Now, this is strictly confidential. I’ve had explicit instructions to deny any goings on here for the safety of the passenger,” he stated gravely.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

He used to work for Bernie and Sandy when they lived at BernSand full time. But they let his crew go when they left on their cruise and Kurt wasn’t too happy about it. I wasn’t sure why he was involved with this mystery person or who was paying him.

Kurt turned his bulky body sideways and placed his hands on his hips. My view of a heap on the floor in the middle isle of the plane was still slightly obscured by his massiveness. I pushed past him to get a better look. I’d seen women passed out on the floor before, maybe too many times to have any strong emotions about it. I only wanted to know who it was that was so important that the police needed my sorry ass in the middle of the night.

“I’m not sure how many of these she took,” The airplane captain in his white uniform held out a prescription bottle to me on the far side to the body. I didn’t take it. I needed to see who the woman was.

I knelt at her bare feet. She wore ivory silk pants and matching blouse, almost like pajamas making her look ethereal in the way she lay on her side like a Botticelli painting. Her dark hair lay across her face. I heard a gasp from Stewie when I brushed the hair way from her face. The bandage across her forehead and large yellow and purple bruise on her swollen cheek almost made her unidentifiable, except for the dark beauty mark next to her right eye, long luscious lashes, and full pink lips.

I looked back at Kurt. “This is Shay Lazar.”

Author Bio:

“The Perpetual,” my over 40-second chance romance, has won the coveted “Stiletto Award” by Contemporary Romance Writers in the Mid-length Contemporary Romance category.

BIO: My writing journey began after my 50th birthday, and the pandemic lockdown allowed me to write. Some of my stories have haunted my dreams for decades. When the characters shouted day and night, I knew I had to write about them. These days I love to read and write stories about second chances with GenX characters in over 40, later in life, and mature steamy romances.

My previous lives have been in advertising, fashion, and small business owner. I’ve made it my life’s ambition to push through the challenges of dyslexia to consume novels, poetry, and articles and tell my stories.

A proud native Californian, I live in Hermosa Beach, CA, with my husband of 17 years, two beautiful kids, and two spunky-rescue kitties.

Please find me on all social media platforms.

Linktree

 

GIVEAWAY!

Songs, Sails & Silly Dating Schemes Blitz

—

The Sweetest Getaway by Sasha Preston On sale for $2.99 for a limited time!

The Sweetest Getaway
Sasha Preston
Publication date: August 26th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Women’s Fiction

Jennifer used to be a wholesome daydreamer who’d never broken a law in her life.

In a moment of weakness, she lets her roommate, Nari, rope her into a money-making scheme that isn’t exactly…legal.

How could she have known that stealing from bad guys would be so much fun?

Soon, Jennifer is so busy leading a double life that she barely has time to fantasize about the hot, dimpled stranger she met at one of Nari’s parties.

Everything is going smoothly, until someone rats them out to the cops.

Now, Jennifer and Nari need help from a team of seasoned criminals to pull off a heist that’ll either set them up for life…or get them locked up for a very long time.

Can Jennifer find a path to happily ever after that doesn’t include an ugly prison jumpsuit?

There’s only one way to find out…

The Sweetest Getaway is a no spice, cozy heist novel with laughs, a diverse cast, and the smartest heroines since Ocean’s 8. Perfect for fans of women’s fiction and crime capers. Get it today for a criminally good time.

Goodreads / Amazon

On sale for $2.99 for a limited time!

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FND7RBHV/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-sweetest-getaway-1?sId=ff292fea-9783-4315-97f8-99b5f62d36d0Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-sweetest-getaway/id6751138806?ls=1Google Play Books: https://books.google.com/books/about?id=PQx-EQAAQBAJ&redir_esc=yBarnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-sweetest-getaway-sasha-preston/1148037294?ean=2940184615059

—

EXCERPT:

“All we have to do is confidently walk to the door like we’re supposed to be here,” Nari said under her breath.

She and Jennifer argued in the parking lot of Omaha’s largest mansion as glamorously dressed revelers approached the entrance, arm in arm.

“I’ll enter five minutes before you. When they ask for our names, remember that I’m Doris and you’re Béatrice. After that, everything will be easy. No big deal,” Nari explained.

Right. It was no big deal to Nari because she was endlessly charming, constantly meeting new people, and making loads of cash from random schemes that took her all over the world. Jennifer, on the other hand, was great at petting her neighbors’ dogs and getting lost mid-conversation in daydreams about faraway lands she’d never visited.

Doris Huang and Béatrice Boivin were wealthy business-women who were actually invited to the gala. Jennifer had helped Nari find an Asian and black woman on the guest list that they could impersonate. Doris and Béatrice looked enough like them, although Doris was in her fifties. Luckily, Doris wore glasses, so Nari could hide her youth behind a pair of round black frames that complemented her off-the-shoulder, gold metallic gown.

“Honestly, Nari, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.” Jennifer tapped her fingers nervously on her arm. “What if Doris and Béatrice are inside already? Why don’t we look for a back entrance to sneak into instead?”

At least there would be fewer witnesses if they got caught at the back entrance. Maybe they could even pretend they were lost, ask for directions, and then decide to scrap the whole mission and return to their cozy apartment. “Oh well, that didn’t work. At least we tried!” Jennifer would say peppily. Nari would shrug. They’d end the night bingeing on popcorn and singing nineties hits into their TV’s karaoke app.

But Nari would never give up that easily. “Nah, we’re early. We’ll have at least an hour before these two fabulous women show up. They’re always late for events like this. Besides, our target is already inside.”

Jennifer groaned. “This is nuts. I’ve got to pretend to be French like Béatrice.” She shook her head. “I can’t even tell the difference between a good macaron and a bad one. They’re all delicious to me. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

“I know why you said yes, mon amie,” Nari said, grinning. “Remember, you’ll be getting twenty-five percent of whatever deal we pull off after today. If I can close this deal, it could be worth half a million dollars.”

Jennifer had almost forgotten about the payout. Normally, Nari compensated her for these wild rides with chili cheese fries. She sucked in air through her teeth. “I… I can’t really say no to that,” she said, goosebumps covering her arms.

With that kind of money, maybe she could travel far beyond Omaha’s borders. She’d meet wonderful, surprising people. People who spoke five languages, painted in their spare time, and effortlessly rode their electric scooters through crowded street markets before arriving at home to make love to their beautiful spouses. Maybe she could even quit her job as a marketing analyst.

Nari swept her arm out in front of her, as if she were showing off her kingdom. “Welcome to the business world. There’s tons of cash just waiting for you.”

Money came easily to Nari, even though she had the attention span of a gnat. She could have her own massive condo if she wanted to, but she chose to live with Jennifer to feel a sense of home so far away from her family. Jennifer, however, was thirty-six years old and broke. If she didn’t live with Nari, she would have to start a window washing side hustle to be able to afford her student loan payments.

“It’s my favorite business world, the one where we have to sneak into galas to close deals,” Jennifer snorted.

 

Author Bio:

Sasha Preston writes women’s fiction crime capers where close friendships and adventure come together to inspire your next big escape (or at least make you think about planning one). She loves to explore and hatch plots with her girlfriends, daughter, and husband.

Website / Facebook / Instagram / TikTok

 

GIVEAWAY!

The Sweetest Getaway Blitz

—

THE REBELLIOUS COUNTESS by Helene Matheson with giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Helene Matheson will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Society may be run by the men of the ton, but six scandalous sisters are determined to take it by storm one gentleman at a time.

Máira Blair married for love, her honeymoon trip with the Earl of Dorset is a dream come true—until reality turns it into a nightmare. Máira wakes up to discover her husband isn’t an earl, but the captain of a pirate ship and what was supposed to be her honeymoon, is a voyage bound for war-torn France. If that isn’t enough to disparage her husband’s character, he abandons her in the middle of a French port where she must find a way to survive as she defends her virtue and her life. Just when she’s convinced of what kind of rogue she married, the pirate transforms into a hero on a quest to save her and the missing Earl of Astley.

Sir Elias Drake married for convenience, he needed a Scottish bride to complete his mission. He can resist his desire for his beautiful wife, especially after she discovers his true identity. Except Máira Blair was more than he bargained for. He needs her skills, cherishes her compassion, and is tormented by her passion, which only makes him want her and the life their marriage represents more.

It will require both of their talents to rescue the Earl of Astley, and it will take more than a war to defeat their hard-won love—if they can escape.

 

Read an Excerpt

Her Scottish blood began to simmer. The mettle of her ancestors wronged by backstabbing, licentious English bastards was rising to a call so deeply ingrained in her soul, she wanted to fight. It didn’t matter her mother was English, she was a Scottish bastard through and through as far as the ton was concerned. One of the scandalous sisters. Even Iseabail’s marriage to a duke hadn’t been able to stop the label from spreading. Máira’s good-for-nothing husband had just added to her family’s ruination by making her a walking, talking scandal of the worst kind.

It was Ellison. There was no doubt. It didn’t matter that he wore clothes she didn’t recognize, or that a hat sat low over his brow hiding most of his features. It didn’t matter that the sun was going down and the only light in town was coming from the windows of The Happy Hag. It didn’t matter that she’d somehow slept the night and day away probably due to the bump on her head.

She knew it was Ellison by the tune he whistled and poetical way he performed it. He’d whistled that same tune the night of their wedding. How she remembered that she wasn’t certain, but it was him, of that there was no doubt. He could whistle like no one she’d ever heard in her life. Melodic, and sorrowful, his song spoke of love found and lost. It spoke to her soul, and she wanted to punch those sinful lips for making her feel anything but hatred.

About the Author:

Helene Matheson writes steamy regency historical romance novels with intelligent, unstoppable heroines who don’t require an alpha male to save them—having one in their bed is another story.

Helene moved south for fun in the sun after she retired from public service and began pursuing her life-long dream of writing. She wrote the Amazon best-selling mystery series The Book Barn Mysteries for Lyrical Press and has written multiple award-winning romantic suspense novels under Kym Roberts.

In her spare time she can be found woodcarving by the pool or blogging for The Cozy Corner on Fresh Fiction. To contact her on social media, you can find her under KymRoberts911 on FaceBook, Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest. Her books can also be found on her websites.

Helene Matheson: http://www.HeleneMatheson.com
Kym Roberts: http://www.KymRoberts.com

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DRDM5CSH

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-rebellious-countess-helene-matheson/1147883832

Books a Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Rebellious-Countess/Helene-Matheson/9781648399787

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Mr. Not Your Savior! by Alina Jacobs with excerpt and giveaway

Mr. Not Your Savior!
Alina Jacobs
(The Seattle Svenssons, #2)
Publication date: August 5th 2025
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

When your mean boss asks you if you’re ready to admit defeat—and move out of his car…you wonder where you went wrong in life.
Two weeks ago, I was an optimistic office girl with a Pinterest vision board and a dream.
Now? I’m standing in a billionaire’s penthouse office, trying not to throw a donut at his smug, perfect face.
McCarthy Svensson is my new boss-slash-personal tormentor.
Though he thinks he’s my only protector.

He’s wrong. He’s way worse than the merry-go-round of ex fiancés who may or may not be stalking me, including ex-fiancé number one of three, who fakes his death then pops up out of a casket. Alive.
Yes, I have a messy dating life.
I like to think it makes me unique and quirky!
He doesn’t seem to think so.

When he growls, “I’m not helping you until you admit you need me,” I slam a binder against his chest and smile sweetly.
“Pick your fake girlfriend, buddy. Deadline’s midnight.”
He smirks. “As long as she’s nothing like you.”
Cool.
Now all I have to do is convince this ice-cold bastard that I’m exactly what he needs…

No not like that! I’m trying to save his reputation and my job.
And I’m not saving either if I keep letting him finger me in the back seat of his limo…gulp.

Stalkers, hot but toxic bosses, a granny with a flamethrower… This full-length, stand-alone, enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy with all of the crazy laughs and of course the perfect happily ever after!

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

I lean over. I might not be pissing on Brock’s grave, but I am going to spit on him. Symbolically, mostly. I don’t want to go to jail for defiling a corpse. Bethany really would fire me then.

But as I lean over, there’s motion.

I’m literally losing it, I think.

His corpse hasn’t just smiled, has it?

“B-B—Brock?” I stammer, then I scream when a cold hand shoots up and grabs my neck.

“Vampire! Help! Zombie!” I slap at him.

Still screaming, I scramble back, tripping over chairs, falling and banging my knees. My dress hem rides up my stress-eating-enhanced thighs as I try to escape that unholy thing in the coffin.

It’s sitting up with cold, lifeless eyes.

“Call the police! Call the army! Help!” I look around wildly for someone with a flamethrower or a gun.

Except… I’m the only one upset. No one is freaked out that Brock has risen from the dead. No one is screaming from fear. Instead, they’re… laughing?

“Oh my god!” Brock is clutching his sides. “Oh my fucking god, your face!”

His friends from the YouTube channel are circling vultures with cameras as everyone howls at me.

“Did you get her falling?” One of the camera men motions to the other.

I grab my skirt. “What the hell? Are you kidding me? This was a prank?”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” Brock’s laughing hysterically in the casket while I sob on the floor.

My ex leaps out of the coffin and swaggers over to me. “Surprise! I always knew you cared, baby.”

The cameras are in my face as he crouches down in front of me.

“Aww, you’re crying over me. Come here, give me a hug.”

I’m in shock; I don’t know what I’m doing as I let him wrap his arms around me.

My ex leans in to kiss me on the head.

“Hey, man, you’re ruining the shot,” one of the cameramen complains.

“I don’t give a fuck about your fucking bullshit YouTube channel.” A massive arm wraps around my waist, then I’m yanked upright and back.

I cling to McCarthy as he holds me, my legs jelly.

The room is spinning.

I’m going to puke.

I left Brock after he played one too many stupid jokes on me—and now this?

“Why would you do this?” I whimper. “Make me think you’re dead?”

“The content, man.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her.” McCarthy tucks me protectively to his side.

Author Bio:

I write the kind of books I love—romantic comedies featuring snarly guys with hearts of gold, kick-ass heroines, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after! Also wine. And cupcakes.

When I’m not writing I can be found drinking tea, surrounded by my massive to-be-read pile! So many books…

You can connect with me on social media or find information on my books at my website.

Sign up for my newsletter so that you can get information about new releases, giveaways, and more!

Website / Facebook / Goodreads / Bookbub / Instagram / Newsletter

 

GIVEAWAY!

Mr. Not Your Savior!

—