Aubrey Wynne's Blog, page 31
November 1, 2022
Hate, Rinse, Repeat by Whitney Dineen & Melanie Summers
Hate, Rinse, Repeat
Melanie Summers
(A Gamble on Love Mom-Com, #3)
Publication date: October 28th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Christmas is a time for hate…
Maisy Moore is not looking forward to the holiday season. As owner of the only hair salon in Gamble, Alaska, she’ll be run off her feet helping her clients get dolled up for Christmas and New Years Eve parties. Parties she’ll never be invited to.
But that’s not the worst of it. As a single mom, she knows she still won’t be able to give her seven-year-old son, Jack, the kind of magical Christmas his classmates get. Telling him how much she loves him will only get a kid that age so far. If only she could give him what he really wants—to know who his dad is.
The last thing Maisy needs is for NHL star Chase Evans to come waltzing back into town like he’s God’s gift to women. But that’s exactly what Chase does.
After a taking a crosscheck from behind, Chase’s season is over. Instead of scoring goals, he’s recovering from shoulder surgery, and according to his mother, there’s no better place to recover than home. Because let’s face it, basking in the glow of local adoration won’t be too bad. There are no fans quite like hometown fans.
The last thing Chase expects is to find Maisy Moore still single. He decides to see if maybe they could rekindle their brief romance that occurred the night of their ten-year high school reunion. But when he tries to talk to her, he discovers Maisy’s feelings of lust have turned to loathing. And he’s determined to find out why.
Will Maisy manage to keep the identity of her son a secret? Will there be a holiday miracle that will reunite two hard-headed lovers? Will the BOGO special on shampoo and conditioner be a hit?
Find out in the deliciously funny and ridiculously romantic final installment of the Love is a Gamble Mom-Com Series.
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble
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EXCERPT:
Childhood can be hard at the best of times. But when your name rhymes with crazy, lazy, hazy, daisy, and Swayze—as in Patrick—it’s worse than you can imagine. Here are a few phrases I heard ad nauseum during my formative years:
“It’s crazy Maisy with the lazy eye!” Corrective glasses fixed the eye, but there’s no coming back from such an abysmal start to your school years. Kind of like if you wore a body brace in middle school, you will always be the girl who wore the body brace in middle school. And if you wore a body brace and had a lazy eye? It was no picnic, let me tell you.
An actual allergy to allergy medication—you can’t make this stuff up—was to blame for my third-grade teacher often complaining, “Maisy was a little hazy today.”
I have Dr. Seuss to thank for, “It’s Daisy Head Maisy!” That’s right, his first posthumous book was gunning for me. I turned down free tickets to Seussical (the musical) because of it.
Finally, my least favorite and most often heard—thank you, Chase Evans—“Maisy Swayzeee, wassup?!” This one was often accompanied by, “Nobody puts Maisy in the corner.”
Being that I live in the town where I grew up, I’m often reminded of my past nicknames. Owning the only hair salon in Gamble, Alaska, means old classmates and their mothers are always hanging around (and bringing their hilarious memories of me with them—Remember that time your back brace got caught in the monkey bars?).
If having a challenging start to life wasn’t enough, I’ve made one or two questionable decisions along the way that have added to my troubles. The first being that the father of my son does not know he’s the father of my son.
I know, I know, “secret baby” is by far the worst romance trope. As romance novels are my only social life, I read a ton of them. And even before I got pregnant with Jack, I always passed on the secret baby ones. I mean, who keeps a secret that big?
Short answer—me. But I have my reasons. More on that later because I’ve got much bigger problems these days.
Author Bio:
Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries — not always in that order.
Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.
She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.
Gold Medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2017.
Silver medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.
Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.
Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.
Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017
Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017
Author links
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram
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Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.
Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.
In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally – then she’ll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for ‘K’ Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn’t require makeup and/or nylons).
Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she’s not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something–more like just staying until they turn the lights off.
She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.
Author links
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram
Giveaway!
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October 31, 2022
The Enchanted Bungalow by Eva Pohler with excerpt and giveaway
The Enchanted Bungalow
Eva Pohler
(The Mystery House Series, #9)
Publication date: October 31st 2022
Genres: Adult, Mystery
Ellen and her friends never saw this coming.
During a Twilight tour of Forks, Washington, Ellen, Sue, and Tanya rent a bungalow on Quileute land to celebrate Tanya’s sixtieth birthday. They’re having the time of their lives until strange visions make them question everything they know about the afterlife. Can the three best friends uncover the mystery of the Machiavellian spirit sharing their bungalow?
Here’s what readers are saying about this series:
“Slightly wacky ladies, humor & good intentions result in a very interesting story. I’ve already ordered the second one in the series.”–Lynne J. Condon, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
“They begin a dangerous quest digging into the real history behind the Gold House. What they find will blow your mind! My heart was racing throughout this entire book. If you believe in ghosts or even if you don’t, I suggest reading by a lamp. I jumped several times as if a movie were playing inside my mind. . . . The three women in this book are wonderful. This is definitely a must-read. 5 stars for Eva! Well done!!”–Book Lover Reviews ★★★★★
“This is a real page turner. Riveting, and exciting. The characters are very well written, it’s easy to read and you won’t want to put it down.”–Southermermaid85, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
“This is my first experience with author Eva Pohler and I can’t believe I haven’t read anything of hers before! Loved the book and I’ll be checking out more in this series.”–The Novel Lady, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
Described as “Nancy Drew meets The Golden Girls,” these friends get in way over their heads as they try to bring peace to ghosts haunting their most recent flip project or vacation rental.
**The books in this series can be read in any order.
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play
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EXCERPT:
Two days later, Ellen flew with Moseby to Seattle, where she rented an SUV—a white Nissan Rogue—and drove in the dark and through the rain for three hours toward La Push. The last two hours were on winding roads that had Ellen gripping the steering wheel and clenching her teeth.
Moseby whined. He sat in a carrier strapped in the front passenger seat.
“I know, Moseby-Mo. It’s been a long car ride, but I think we’re nearly there.”
Brian had business meetings in Portland all week, and Ellen hadn’t wanted to board the dog, worried it would cause post-traumatic stress disorder. Plus, she needed him, since she was traveling without her friends, hoping to get everything ready to save Tanya’s birthday.
It was so dark and rainy in La Push when she arrived that she nearly missed the turn into the Oceanside Resort Office. She pulled in, put the rental in park, found the totem pole Dorothy had described, and, clutching her hood beneath her chin, used the phone inside the totem to telephone security.
“I’ll be right there,” a man on the other end of the line assured her.
Moments later, a black truck approached, and a police officer rolled down his window to hand her a key.
“Are you staying there alone?” he asked as she stood in the rain beside his truck. “I thought there were three of you. My paperwork shows three signatures.”
Ellen and her friends had been asked to sign, scan, and email liability waivers.
“The other two will be joining me in a couple of days.”
The officer frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, staying there alone? Dorothy told you about the history of the place, didn’t she?”
“I’ll be fine.” Ellen sounded more confident than she felt. “I just need directions.”
“It’s up there on the highest hill,” he pointed out. “Just follow this road on up. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” Ellen said.
“Let us know if you decide to leave early,” the officer added, handing her his card with his contact information. “The cell service is spotty out here, but you can always drive over to the totem and call me from here.”
“Will do.” Ellen read the card. “Thank you, Officer Hobucket.”
The officer waited until Ellen had returned to the SUV before he drove off. She said a prayer as she followed him from the parking area and back onto the road in the opposite direction, heading toward the beach, until she came to a fork. The road to the right went downhill and the road to the left went up, so she went left.
“This has to be it,” she said to Mo as they neared a bungalow surrounded by enormous western red cedar trees, the silhouettes of which were visible in her headlights.
She parked the Nissan Rogue and took Moseby from his carrier. With his leash attached to his collar, she walked him toward the front door. It was too dark to make out much about its features. An old porchlight illuminated the front door and wooden porch, but not much else. She couldn’t even tell what color it was painted. Maybe gray?
As she waited for Mo to do his business, she turned her face toward the ocean, but it was too dark to see. She could hear it, though, gathering in great bursts against rocks that must not be too far below. A glance to the dark sky above revealed no moon, but an ocean of stars twinkled down at her, and she felt suddenly small and nervous.
“Come on, Moseby-Mo.” She nudged her dog from the grass toward the front door. “Let’s check out the inside.”
Dorothy had warned her that it hadn’t been cleaned in years, and the stale air that greeted her when Ellen opened the door did nothing to contradict that.
Moseby whined at the stoop.
“Inside,” Ellen commanded as she blindly felt the wall for a switch.
Not finding one, she stepped further into the bungalow, making the leash taut between her and Mo, who’d remained on the threshold.
Ellen’s hand swept across a cobweb, and she gasped with surprise at the unexpected texture. Shuddering and wiping her hand against her jeans, she continued to flail around for a light switch and finally found a floor lamp when she walked right into it.
She dropped the leash by accident to steady the lamp, and Moseby scurried away.
Ellen rushed outside into the rain. “Mo! Come back here!”
Mo stood at their rental car looking back at her without any intention of minding her call.
Fortunately, he didn’t run off as she approached him and scooped him into her arms.
“Why are you shaking, boy?” she said in a soothing voice. “Are you cold? I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
She fumbled for her phone, which was somewhere at the bottom of the purse draped over her shoulder. Once she found it, she turned on the flashlight app and proceeded back toward the house.
When she reached the porch, the front door, which she’d left ajar, slammed shut in her face.
“The wind is really something out here,” Ellen remarked as she reached for the knob.
Author Bio:
Eva Pohler is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty-five novels in multiple genres, including paranormal mysteries, thrillers, and young adult fantasy based on Greek mythology. Her books have been described as “addictive” and “sure to thrill”–Kirkus Reviews.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Bookbub / Youtube
Giveaway!
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October 29, 2022
A sneak peek at In Possession of a Good Fortune by Shanae Johnson plus a giveaway
In Possession of a Good Fortune
Shanae Johnson
(Pemberley Ranch, #3)
Publication date: October 25th 2022Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Women’s Fiction
When Lydia Bennett runs off and gets engaged to Mr. Wrong, she’ll have no idea it’ll be for all the right reasons.
Chatterbox Lydia Bennett has always felt like the stepchild in her redheaded family. To get out from the shadows of her successful older sisters, she starts a gossip blog fueled by info from her best friend, and heiress Emma. When Lydia gets the chance to write a story for the city paper, she’ll need to expose one of the bull riders in town for the annual Pemberley Rodeo. And one rodeo star in particular is all too eager to give her a wild ride.
Bull rider George Wickham is in over his head—in debt that is. After repeated injuries, Wick’s bull riding days are nearly up. With his career at an end, he’ll have no way to pay off the money he owes to the rodeo organizers. But when Wick learns about a young heiress in attendance at the rodeo, a plan forms to sweep her off her feet to get access to her wallet.
Unfortunately, Wick mistakes Lydia for her bestie and the two hit it off, falling hard and fast and getting engaged in record time. But when this case of mistaken identity is revealed, they both will be faced with impossible choices. Lydia will have to decide between the career she’s always wanted and the secrets of the man she’s in love with. Wick will have to choose whether or not to ride in an event that might cost his livelihood and possibly his life to prove his love for the right woman?
Get swept off your feet by this clean and wholesome, laugh out loud romantic comedy filled with sweet and swoony situations and a heartwarming happily-ever-after. In Possession of a Good Fortune is the third in a series of modern day Jane Austen retellings—set on a ranch!
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo
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SNEAK PEEK:
His smile was slow. It didn’t spread across his face. He looked amused and slightly terrified. It was the same way her father had always looked at her mother. It was the way Carlos looked at Jane. It was the way Darcy looked at Eliza—that is, when he didn’t think anyone was watching.
Wick had said he didn’t believe in love. But his gaze was telling Lydia something different. It was telling her that she might be different. Isn’t that what every girl wanted? For a guy to think she was different. That she was special. That’s how he was looking at her.
This was it. Lydia hadn’t believed it would happen to her. But she was standing in the moment where the reality of it was going down. A guy was totally falling for her.
“Are you going to kiss me, Mr. Wickham?” Lydia spoke softly in the dark. Not that anyone was around to hear her. But the moment felt sacred, holy even.
“Yes,” he whispered back. “Yes, I am.”
His thumb rubbed back and forth across her low back in a windshield-wiping motion. His chest pressed against hers, so much so that she could feel his heart beating in time with hers. His gaze was on her mouth, but he didn’t descend to capture her lips.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to kiss me or not?”
“I said I would.”
And then he stepped away from her. If he hadn’t kept hold of her hand, Lydia would’ve stumbled. Wick tucked her into his side and walked with her away from the pen.
Lydia was so rattled from having been in a haze of desire and then yanked back down to earth that she was silent for a time.
“You know what I think?” she said after a time. “I think you’re a player.”
They were walking away from the light posts along the drive, so she couldn’t see his features, but she sensed a change in him. A stiffening.
“But I don’t think that’s the full story,” she continued.
Wick turned to her. She saw the whites of his eyes, but she still couldn’t read his expression. Some of the stiffness left his body as he walked on in silence.
“One thing I’ve learned is that there’s always a kernel of truth to gossip. But there’s almost always more to the story.” She leaned into him. “Tell me.”
“You want me to tell you all my secrets?”
“I do.”
“Well, I won’t. I’m still trying to impress you.”
She laughed. When she did, the corners of Wick’s eyes widened as he watched her. His smile was back in place. He pulled her more firmly to his side as they walked on.
Author Bio:
Shanae Johnson was raised by Saturday Morning cartoons and After School Specials. She still doesn’t understand why there isn’t a life lesson that ties the issues of the day together just before bedtime. While she’s still waiting for the meaning of it all, she writes stories to try and figure it all out. Her books are wholesome and sweet, but her heroes are hot and her heroines are full of sass!
And by the way, the E elongates the A. So it’s pronounced Shan-aaaaaaaa. Perfect for a hero to call out across the moors, or up to a balcony, or to blare outside her window on a boombox. If you hear him calling her name, please send him her way!
Website / Goodreads / Facebook
GIVEAWAY!
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October 27, 2022
All Hallows Airship by Liz Delton with an excerpt and giveaway
All Hallows Airship
Liz Delton
Publication date: October 25th 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Steampunk
A catastrophic blast. A haunting memory. And she only has one chance to prove her family’s innocence.
All Caz Coppersdown has ever wanted is to be a journalist for the Soldark Times. But the chances of her parents letting her pursue a breaking story are slim. Secluded after a childhood illness, Caz finally gets to leave Soldark for a trip to the country to her great aunt’s estate, but she quickly finds out there isn’t anything newsworthy there—unless you count her aunt’s upcoming All Hallows Eve soiree.
Until the local airshow clashes with her aunt’s party plans—causing more than just pumpkins to be destroyed. When Caz meets one of the airship pilots and discovers something about her family’s past, Caz might have just found her big story.
But she’ll need to dig for the facts quickly, because the constables are looking for a culprit, and old ghosts are making themselves known on this All Hallows Eve.
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SNEAK PEEK:
As they pulled up to the front door of Daguerre, Caz didn’t know what to expect. She certainly didn’t expect to see her great aunt, dressed in a modest burgundy gown with black lace edging, stacking pumpkins on the doorstep with the help of a maid. There was dirt under her fingernails. Caz grinned and removed her satin gloves, stuffing them into her pocket before opening the door to the auto. Grimlee wordlessly brought her carpetbag around as Caz stepped forward. She took a deep breath of the country air, inhaling the unfamiliar yet alluring scents of nature.
Dowager Daguerre straightened, a calculating look in her eye as she smiled at her great-niece. “Go get the last four, will you, Marla, and then we can see if we need to buy extra from Shore. Caroline! Welcome to Daguerre.”
“It’s Caz,” she blurted, and heat immediately rushed to her cheeks as she reached up to cover her mouth. Had she really just corrected her? “I’m sorry, Dowager.”
Her great aunt raised a single eyebrow–a feat Caz envied–and said, “What for? I would never wish to call you by a name you dislike. And as far as names go, you may call me Elmira. We are flesh and blood, by-golly.”
“I–all right,” Caz said breathlessly, her cheeks still burning, though she was secretly pleased. Her aunt was nothing like the stuffy nobles in Soldark. Her opinion on the upcoming month shifted immediately to excitement.
“Grimlee, take her bag to her room, it’s already prepared. That’s all you brought?” she asked Caz.
“No, my trunk should be here this afternoon. At least, that’s what my father said.”
“Perfect,” Elmira said crisply. “Now, I need your opinion on these pumpkins.”
Caz grinned as her great aunt picked up some wicked-looking shears and sliced off a few inches of the long stem on one of the bright orange gourds littering the mansion’s doorstep.
Though she wasn’t sure she’d find much action worthy of a gripping story she could write for the Soldark Times, perhaps the season in the country wouldn’t be so boring after all.
Author Bio:
Liz Delton writes and lives in New England, with her husband and amazing son. She studied Theater Management at the University of the Arts in Philly, always having enjoyed the backstage life of storytelling.
She reads and writes fantasy, especially the kind with alternate worlds. Liz is the author of the dystopian Arcera Trilogy, the fantasy Realm of Camellia series, and the steampunk novel THE ALCHEMYST’S MIRROR. World-building is her favorite part of writing, and she is always dreaming up new fantastic places.
She loves drinking tea and traveling. When she’s not writing you can find her hands full with one of her many craft projects.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / TikTok / Pinterest
GIVEAWAY!
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October 26, 2022
Read an excerpt from In The Shadow of The Apennines by Kimberly Sullivan and enter the gift card giveaway
In The Shadow of The Apennines
Kimberly Sullivan
Publication date: October 21st 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Historical, Women’s Fiction
An American divorcée. An Italian shepherdess.
Separated by a century, united by common dreams.
The sleepy little Abruzzo mountain town of Marsicano seems about as far as Samantha can flee from her failed marriage and disastrous university career. Eager for a fresh start, Samantha begins to set down roots in her Italian mountain hideaway.
At first, the mountain retreat appears idyllic, but an outsider’s clumsy attempts at breaking into the closed mountain community are quickly thwarted when the residents discover Samantha’s snarky blog ridiculing the town and its inhabitants.
Increasingly isolated in her mountain cottage, Samantha discovers the letters and diaries of Elena, a past tenant and a survivor of the 1915 Pescina earthquake. Despite the century that separates the two women, Samantha feels increasingly drawn into Elena’s life, and discovers startling parallels with her own.
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo
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SNEAK PEEK:
Pescina, Italy
25 April 1914
Where do I begin? Mamma blames it all on Father Ignazio. She says if only he had left me to the chores I was employed to carry out at San Berardo and the parish house, my cooking and cleaning would be much improved, and I would not be constantly scribbling on any piece of paper I could find and begging for books to read.
She worries I will never find a husband.
“What man wants a wife who only cares about book learning, when she should be tending the goats, washing the clothes, and baking the bread?” Mamma warns me every day.
Mamma says no peasant girl should study beyond the first years of elementary school. Writing the letters to sign your name and computations for simple transactions are more than enough for a female in our region. She calls it getting above oneself. To mamma, this is the worst sin.
Of course, we weren’t always peasants. We used to have some money, back before papà lost his property. It was never much, but our lives were so much easier back then. My brothers and I even had a tutor to teach us to read and write and to know our history and literature. Those hours were the highlight of my day. My tutor was very pleased with me.
It was hard on us when we lost everything. Only mamma said maybe it was for the best – at least for me. Now she could insist I concentrate on what was most important for girls.
I suppose I am lucky it was Father Ignazio who insisted I keep up with my learning. Mamma may often speak her mind, but she will never argue with our parish priest. She respects him too much, and she worries about punishment in the afterlife if she talks back to a priest. So mamma, who is quick to speak her mind on every occasion, bites her tongue until she draws blood whenever Father Ignazio praises my learning to her.
Papà is proud of my reading and writing. He is the one who bought me this diary and the pen and ink for my birthday. Yes, I can hardly believe it, but today I am sixteen.
Mamma is probably right that a girl who reads and writes would scare off the local boys. Boys in Pescina mostly work the land like their fathers or tend the sheep. But even if I am now sixteen and townspeople consider me a woman, I still feel like a little girl.
All my friends talk about getting married, about preparing their wedding chest and living with their husbands. They make eyes at the boys returning with the sheep, the same boys we scrambled over the mountaintops with just a few years ago.
My friend Concetta even has a sweetheart. She always goes to the fountain to gather the water at the same hour so that she can meet Domenico on his way back to town after a day working in the fields.
Sometimes I see them together walking on the path back to town, the ruins of the castle watchtower above them in the distance. They look so happy in one another’s company, laughing and talking, finding excuses for their hands to brush together.
When Concetta and I are together, sewing or baking bread, she always seems to have a far-away look in her eyes, and I sense that she does not hear what I say, that her thoughts are only for Domenico now. Mamma says one day I’lll feel that way about a boy, too, but I wonder if I ever will.
Author Bio:
Kimberly grew up in the suburbs of Boston and in Saratoga Springs, New York, although she now calls the Harlem neighborhood of New York City home when she’s back in the US. She studied political science and history at Cornell University and earned her MBA, with a concentration in strategy and marketing, from Bocconi University in Milan.
Afflicted with a severe case of Wanderlust, she worked in journalism and government in the US, Czech Republic and Austria, before settling down in Rome, where she works in international development, and writes fiction any chance she gets.
She is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA) and The Historical Novel Society and has published several short stories and three novels: Three Coins, Dark Blue Waves and In The Shadow of The Apennines.
After years spent living in Italy with her Italian husband and sons, she’s fluent in speaking with her hands, and she loves setting her stories in her beautiful, adoptive country.
Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Bookbub / Twitter
Giveaway!
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October 25, 2022
Christmas in Glowing Springs by T.J. Amberson with an excerpt and giveaway
Christmas in Glowing Springs
T.J. Amberson
Publication date: September 24 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Avery Walsh is a romantic at heart, but her demanding career as a big-city attorney means she doesn’t have time for love. Dane Livingston is a small-town boy who has had his share of heartbreak, and so he vowed never to love again. When a Christmastime snowstorm leaves Avery stranded in Dane’s charming village of Glowing Springs, Avery and Dane team up to save the village’s beloved Huckleberry Inn. With Christmas Day approaching, will Dane and Avery be able to save the inn . . . and dare to take a chance on love?
A sweet (clean) romance told in 3rd-person, dual POV
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SNEAK PEEK:
Up ahead of her, unaware of Avery’s presence, Dane was chopping wood. His lumberjack-style coat and forest green sweatshirt were draped over one of the woodshed’s fence posts, leaving his chiseled torso covered in nothing but a fitted t-shirt as he worked. Every rippling muscle in Dane’s neck, chest, arms, and back were on display as he skillfully and steadily swung the axe. His broad chest was rising and falling with exertion, his heavy breaths were visible against the cold, and a hint of sweat lined his forehead.
Avery started feeling a little lightheaded as a shock-like sensation coursed down her spine. Intense heat filled her body, momentarily displacing the cold. She swallowed hard, still barely able to move or breathe.
This was most definitely not the way to get over her attraction to Dane Livingston.
Dane stopped what he was doing, used his teeth to pull the working gloves off his hands, and wiped his brow with his forearm. He turned his head slightly, doing a double take when he caught sight of Avery staring at him. His eyes got big, and he spun so he was facing her directly.
“Avery,” he barked.
“Um, hello,” Avery said, her words coming out squeaky. She was suddenly grateful for the freezing temperature, since it made it appear as though her cheeks were only red from the cold. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but I didn’t want to startle you while you were using the axe.”
Dane was still breathing hard from exertion as his brows snapped together. “What are you doing out here?”
Avery started clenching and unclenching her hands into fists at her sides, trying to get some feeling back into them. “I’m finished in the kitchen, so I wanted to ask what else I can do to help.”
Dane glanced down at Avery’s hands, and then his steely stare returned to her face. He exhaled an exasperated-sounding breath. Brow furrowed, he dropped his axe and gloves, strode fast over to the fence, and snatched up his coat. He stomped through the snow toward Avery.
“You shouldn’t be out here without a coat,” he growled.
Avery didn’t have a chance to reply before Dane stopped right in front of her and draped his big, heavy coat over her shoulders. His touch instantly caused her respirations to catch, and she went completely still. He seemed to pause, too, with his strong, sturdy hands resting upon her shoulders. For another moment, neither of them moved. Avery started feeling the intense heat that was radiating from Dane’s body, despite the cold, and her own body started quivering in response. Slowly, she raised her eyes. He met her gaze through the falling snow. Her heart pounded feverishly as she watched him search her gaze with his.
Author Bio:
TJ Amberson hails from the Pacific Northwest, where she lives with her husband and nutty cocker spaniel. When she’s not writing, TJ might be found pretending to know how to garden, riding her bike, playing the piano, enjoying a hot chocolate, or scouring the Internet for cheap plane tickets. She adores all things cozy, seasonal, and holiday-themed; she cheers for happily-ever-afters; and she believes there’s no such thing as too much seasonal decor. With a love of multiple genres, TJ writes sweet romance and romantic comedies for adults and advanced teen readers, and clean fantasy adventures for teen and advanced tween readers.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Pinterest
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Don’t miss your chance to enter the Trick or Treat Book Bonanza Giveaway!
Trick or Treat! ‘Tis the month to celebrate all things paranormal, supernatural, suspenseful and mystical. If you’re like me, you’ll want to accept this very special invitation to join the festivities at N. N. Light’s Book Heaven’s 4th annual Trick or Treat Book Bonanza. 39 authors share what they’d dress up as for Halloween as well as 49 books featured plus a chance to win one of the following:
One lucky reader will win a $75 Amazon (US) gift card.
I’m thrilled to be a part of this event. My book, Saving Grace ,will be featured on October 14. Wait until you read what my Halloween costume would be. You won’t want to miss it.
Bookmark this event and tell your friends:
https://www.nnlightsbookheaven.com/trick-or-treat-book-bonanza
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October 24, 2022
The Mystery of the Tea Cup Quilt by Jodi Allen Brice
If you prefer mystery over scares during the spooky season, then you’ll want to check out this new cozy mystery by Jodi Allen Brice, The Mystery of the Tea Cup Quilt! Read on for more details!
The Mystery of the Teacup Quilt (Harland Creek Mystery Quilters)
Publication Date: September 5th
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Hi! I’m Dove Agnew, former successful dress designer who was living the high life in New York, until my sleazy business partner used my business to move his drugs, leaving me to pack my ruined reputation and move back home to the tiny town of Harland Creek.
Despite the setback, all was going relatively well until I found Gertrude Brown’s body on the floor of my mom’s quilt shop. Now, rumors are flying and all eyes are on me. I’m a murder suspect! Even my ex-boyfriend, the current chief of police, is suspicious of me.
Now, it’s up to me to clear my name and find out who the real killer is before someone else gets hurt. But I’m going to need help, and the Harland Creek Quilters, and a goat named Petunia, are just the group to get things done.
Welcome to the new series set in the beloved town of Harland Creek.
With the quilting club ladies and a sidekick, which happens to be a goat, this book will keep you guessing and laughing out loud!
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Excerpt
I thought no one knew my secret. But I was wrong.
Yesterday, Gertrude Brown had come into the quilt shop demanding that I finish her quilt in one day. I’d never liked that old lady. She was as mean as a snake and cruel just for sport. I had let my anger get the best of me and let Gertrude have a piece of my mind. My mom had been horrified and the two customers in the store had gaped.
I immediately regretted my action and tried to apologize, but Gertrude stormed out of the store. My guilt had me staying late after the quilt shop closed to try to finish her quilt as a peace offering. I should have known better. There would never be any peace between Gertrude Brown and me.
Things went from bad to worse when Gertrude burst into the quilt shop after Mom had left. Gertrude told me she knew about my secret in New York. She said she would not hesitate to tell the whole town I was a criminal if I didn’t finish quilting her Tea Cup quilt that night. Gertrude was the cruelest woman in Harland Creek, bent on making everyone miserable if she didn’t get her way.
I laid my head on the steering wheel and groaned. “Why didn’t I just keep my big mouth shut?”
A knock on my car window jolted me back to the cruel reality of where I was.
I frowned at the plump older woman with mousy brown hair styled in a bowl cut. She shoved her vintage silver glitter cat eye glasses up on the bridge of her nose and squinted at me. She was wearing a tight purple tracksuit in the middle of summer. The stress lines around her mouth and forehead made me think she was in her late fifties.
I went to press the button to roll down the window, then remembered I was no longer in my Lexus convertible.
Grimacing, I remembered the Ford’s windows couldn’t be rolled down without turning the engine back on. I didn’t want to deal with another fart of smoke so I opened the door.
“Yes?” I asked.
“You must be Dove Agnew. You’re Mildred’s daughter, aren’t you?” The woman’s mouth shot up in a wide grin, making her cheeks look big and rosy. “I could tell by the eyes. No one has eyes like Mildred.”
I cringed at the sound of my birth name but then forced a smile. It had been a while since anyone called me Dove.
“I am.”
“I’m Patricia Earle. I work with your mom. She hired me a few months ago to help in the quilt shop. I was off these last few days to take care of Mother. She schedules all her doctor’s appointments the same week and I have to drive her.” Her smile faltered. “Mildred said you’d be working here, too.”
I sighed and nodded slowly. “Yes. Mom asked me to help with the quilting orders. Seems like summer is a busy few months for her.”
Patricia looked a little pale around the lips. “So, you will not be running the register? I was afraid you were going to replace me.” She extracted an inhaler from the pocket of her tracksuit, put it to her mouth and took a deep pull.
I frowned. “Are you okay?” The last thing I needed was to be giving a strange woman CPR.
She nodded and then let out the breath. “Yes. I have asthma. My mom told me I don’t need to get all worked up and upset over nothing.”
“Your mom is right.”
“She’s always telling me what to do. I live with her.” She gave me a slight smile. “Like you and Mildred.”
My smile slid off my face. “It’s only temporary.” Like me, staying in Harland Creek was temporary.
She smiled. “That’s what I said. But it’s been ten years since I moved back home, and I’m still living with my mom. I’ll see you inside.” She gave a little finger wave and walked into the quilt shop.
It was my first week back at Mom’s quilt shop, and I already felt like I was suffocating.
I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. The double braid I had fashioned my blonde hair into was starting to frizz in the Mississippi heat. I blinked. Patricia had been right.
No one had ice blue eyes like my Mom, except me.
Instead of wallowing in my self-pity, I climbed out of my car and grabbed my Christian Louboutin bag, the only expensive thing I still owned, and made my way to the shop.
The honeysuckle that wrapped around the side of the building hung heavy in the air. A smile escaped my lips, reminding me of sweet memories of how as a child, I’d pluck the blossoms and suck on the nectar.
A bead of sweat trickled from my neck down my back. I had sold a lot of my expensive clothes back in New York and my wardrobe was severely limited. Thankfully I’d borrowed a T-shirt of Mom’s and my denim shorts to help stay cool while I quilted. While the shop had air conditioning, the room where I worked was the hottest in the building.
I swiped my brow with the back of my hand and opened the door to the quilt shop.
Patricia had already switched the window sign to Open and had turned on all the lights. The scent of fabric welcomed me inside the shop as I made my way toward the back room where the long arm machine was.
The phone rang, and Patricia immediately answered. “Mildred’s Quilt Shop, where the sewing magic happens. How may I help you?”
I headed to the back room and put my purse under the counter where my mom kept the coffee maker beside the usual tray of pastries that her quilting buddies would bring by.
My mom poked her head out of the office. “Good morning, Dove. I was hoping you’d get here earlier so you can work on Gertrude Brown’s quilt. She left two messages on the answering machine after we closed. After that terrible row between you two, I think it best if we go ahead and finish her quilt.” Mom let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry about what I said to her yesterday. I know it’s not good for business to be yelling at customers. No matter how demanding they are.” I gave her a pained smile.
“Well, she had it coming. No one has ever stood up to her in this town.” Mom shook her head. “I swear this is the last time I’m ever quilting for her.”
I poured myself a cup of black coffee and walked over to her. “I finished her quilt last night.”
My mom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You what?”
“I stayed up half the night so I could finish it. I even completed the binding.”
Mom gaped. “That’s the quickest quilting job I’ve ever seen.”
“I wasn’t going to stay late, but after what happened yesterday, I felt it best to get it done.” I left out the part about Gertrude trying to blackmail me.
Mom stood up and her eyebrows knit together in a frown. “That woman is so demanding. And mean as a snake to boot.” She lifted her chin. “You should have just made her wait. I would have if she had talked to me that way.”
I took a sip of my coffee and averted my eyes. “I didn’t mind,” I lied. I minded a lot.
Mom pressed her lips together in a thin line. “That woman thinks she runs Harland Creek. I don’t like people like that.”
“Neither do I. Want me to call to tell her to come get her quilt?” I looked at her.
“Let me see it first. I don’t want to give that old bat something to criticize.” Mom set her mug of coffee down on the counter and followed me out of the office.
“Knock, knock!” The woman I recognized as Elizabeth Harland, walked into the back of the shop. Gray, short hair curtaining a face with kind, yet strong features, Elizabeth Harland was a steel magnolia. She sought comfort over fashion and worked hard for a living. She wore blue jeans and a floral blouse with black orthopedic shoes with white socks. “I brought goodies. Homemade lemon bars. My grandmother’s recipe.” She held up the decorative platter covered in cellophane.
Elizabeth Harland was one of Mom’s quilting group. She was widowed, ran her own flower farm with a young woman named Heather, and the town was named after her ancestors. She preferred muumuus when she worked her farm and was a wonderful cook.
Mom walked over to give her friend and fellow quilting buddy a hug. “Elizabeth, you shouldn’t have. But I’m glad you did.” She turned to me. “You remember my daughter, Dove?”
Elizabeth gave me a bright smile. “Of course, I do. Hello, Dove. So nice to have you back in Harland Creek.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Thank you, Mrs. Harland. I’m here to help Mom get caught up on her long arm quilting.”
“That’s right. You’re quite the seamstress.” She walked over and placed the platter of sweets next to the coffee. “And please call me, Elizabeth. I hope you’ll join us for our quilting bee. We’d love to have the help. We have to finish hand quilting a quilt of valor for one of the residents at the nursing home.”
“How kind of you. But I don’t know if you’ll want me quilting with you ladies. I’m better at long arm quilting than hand quilting.”
“I doubt that.” Elizabeth gave me a wink. “Have you had time to finish a quilt yet? I’d love to see it.”
“Then you got here in time. She finished Gertrude’s last night. Fastest quilting job I’ve ever seen.” Mom shook her head.
“I heard she made some kind of coffee pot quilt.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.
I let out a laugh. “Actually, it’s a tea cup quilt. She appliqued fabrics in the shape of tea cups and tea pots onto her blocks.”
“Sounds pretty. Which is unlike Gertrude.” Elizabeth groused.
“Oh, it is pretty. She even added folded vintage women’s handkerchiefs under each tea cup. She sewed a seam around the whole handkerchief so it wouldn’t open. The effect was pretty, but it made it difficult to quilt through the extra layers.”
“If she were going to do that, she should have just cut the handkerchief in half.” Elizabeth quipped.
“I totally agree, and I told her that. Her response was to shut up and sew it the way she wanted.”
Mom gasped. “Dove, you should have called me. I don’t let anyone talk to my employees, let alone, my daughter like that.”
“I heard you gave Gertrude quite an earful yesterday.” Elizabeth grinned.
“Ugh. I guess it’s all over town. I was hoping to avoid that.” I buried my face in my hands.
“Ha! That old bird had it coming.” Elizabeth lifted her chin. “Hopefully you won’t have to deal with her again.”
I took another sip of my coffee. “I hope not. Come on, I’ll show you the finished product.”
Mom and Elizabeth followed me into the next room, where we kept the quilt orders written on a whiteboard. There was a wall of built-in shelves where we kept the pieced quilts to be quilted, as well as the finished quilts waiting to be picked up.
I flicked on the switch and immediately screamed. A body, with lifeless eyes stared up at me. Lying in the middle of the white linoleum floor was Gertrude Brown.
Dead.
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About the Author
Jodi Allen Brice is a USA Today best-selling author and has written numerous books under a different pen names. Under Jodi Allen Brice she writes fiction, small town clean and sweet romance and cozy mystery. She transitioned away from paranormal romance in the year 2020 when the virus hit and currently writes under Jodi Allen Brice. Jodi Allen Brice
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Preorder Lords & Lace and get a free gift!
Coming in October 2023 – Lords & Lace
Pre Order your copy today:
***
I’m excited to be a part of a six book anthology set coming out in the fall of 2023 – Lords and Ladies of St James.
Book 1 of the set – Lords & Lace is now available for preorder.
They say…
Lace is a sign of purity and innocence
but for six Lords…
Lace is the symbol for new beginnings.
Upcoming Lords and Ladies of St. James titles available for preorder soon:
Book 2 – Earls and Pearls
Book 3 – Rakes and Reticules
Book 4 – Dukes and Diamonds
Book 5 – Gentlemen and Gloves
Book 6 – Peers and Parasols
You can Pre Order Lords & Lace from your favorite eRetailer
Pre Order Links:
B&Nhttps://www.barnesandnoble.com/w?ean=2940186599159Applehttps://books.apple.com/us/book/id6443890917KOBOhttps://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lords-laceAmazonhttps://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BJFN1HKSBooks2Readhttps://books2read.com/lordsandlaceDon’t forget, if you preordered Lords & Lace you are entitled to receive a FREE downloadable Lords and Ladies of St James Anthology Set Reader Log. Click here to register your preorder and Penford Publishing will email you a direct link to your preorder gift. Here is the link to submit your proof of purchase. https://bit.ly/3TXsB9k
Like this:Like Loading...October 21, 2022
Welcome to the book tour for The Unlikely Spy by Sophie S...
Welcome to the book tour for The Unlikely Spy by Sophie Schiller! Read on for more details!
The Unlikely Spy
Publication Date: August 21st, 2022
Genre: Spy Thriller/ Historical Romance/ Historical Fiction
Casablanca meets Notorious in a Hitchcock-style thriller of espionage, romance, adventure, and intrigue.
1917. Emma Christensen is a young widow who returns to the Danish West Indies to reclaim the life and the villa she left behind. When she discovers her husband has disinherited her in favor of his young heir—an illegitimate son—she turns to the one thing she knows, gambling, and soon finds herself deeply in debt.
Emma is approached by Cornelius Smith, a representative of an American shipping line, who offers an alternative: infiltrate the suspicious Hamburg-American Line and spy on its nefarious leader, Julius Luckner, to gain valuable business intelligence for his firm.
It doesn’t take long for Emma to realize that both Smith and Luckner are not as they seem. Close to the Allies but even closer to the enemy, Emma bravely engages in missions that could blow her cover at any moment. But with the Panama Canal at stake, how far will she go to help the Allies?
A gripping and suspenseful World War I spy thriller from an accomplished thriller and historical adventure writer.
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Excerpt
From the moment she left the telegraph office, Emma had an eerie feeling that someone was following her. It stayed with her all the way back to the hotel. She felt as if someone was watching her every move although she was quite certain she had slipped past the German in the lobby.
When she returned to her hotel, waited impatiently for Smith’s cable. She called down to the front desk numerous times to ask if any message had arrived for her, but the answer was always no. With no other recourse, she went to bed, tossing and turning half the night, fearing that something terrible had happened to Allendorf and now she was all alone. This was completely unexpected. For several agonizing hours she pondered what she should do, but couldn’t come up with a viable plan. The Germans were watching her every move. She was basically trapped in her hotel room, and Smith was counting on her to complete her mission. But no one could have foreseen such a reversal.
As the hours ticked by, she had an ominous feeling she couldn’t shake, that her life was hanging in the balance. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she had an unsettling feeling that would not quit.
When she could no longer tolerate her insomnia, she picked up the phone and ordered a chamomile tea from room service, hoping it would calm her jangling nerves. When the drink arrived, she splashed a bit of rum in it from her trusty flask. Yet she still had a nagging feeling that something was wrong.
Her eyes fell on her purse. It sat on the nightstand near her bed, just within her reach. She opened it, took out the pistol, and rehearsed priming it so she could use it in a tight spot. She needed to have the movements go like clockwork. There was no room for failure in this business. Luckily it only weighed two pounds. That made slipping it into her pocket easier. The magazine was already loaded with seven bullets. Seven chances to save her life. She gripped the pistol in her right hand and racked the slide, then added a bullet to the barrel. Now it was ready. She flicked the lever to “safe” and set the pistol down on the nightstand. Perhaps now she could sleep.
She lay down, pulled the sheet around her, and turned off the light. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but she could not fall asleep.
Outside, the moon cast a luminous glow on the surroundings. Crickets croaked their nightly serenade and the stars lit up the heavens. The palm fronds billowed in the breeze. The waves crashing on the rocks sent an ominous warning. Emma found it difficult to sleep in a different bed, and impossible to relax when she had so much on her mind, so much responsibility on her shoulders.
She got up and peered outside. Despite the late hour, there were still people milling about, laughing and heading to restaurants and casinos. Horse carriages trotted past while motorcars meandered down the streets, their glowing lights like the eyes of a puma. Sounds of amusement echoed from the restaurant below. Lights shone from the ships in Manzanillo Bay, creating a scene that was idyllic, almost peaceful. Further out, she could see the lights on the ships waiting to enter the canal. There was a long line of them that suspended off to the horizon. Each one had its own purpose and destination. Each one could be sunk at any time by German torpedoes or hidden bombs. She shivered. An explosion along the canal would cause chaos for the Allies. The Kaiser would gloat in his victory. His generals and their underlings would launch even more attacks. Emma could picture Luckner in his office toasting his triumph, patting himself on the back even as the embers of the canal still glowed.
She went back to bed and covered herself with the sheet, trying to block out her worries. But it was impossible. She had a sense of impending doom. And for some strange reason, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
Suddenly she heard a scratching noise near her door. A man’s footsteps shuffled just outside. She froze and listened, not daring to move. Someone was fumbling with the lock, trying to break in. She sat up in bed, listening. She felt her heart stop. Yes, somebody was trying to break in.
She fumbled in the dark for her pistol. She grabbed it, flicked the safety to “fire” then eased herself off the bed. Crouching down on the floor, she listened as the noise continued ever so slightly that it was barely detectable. She sat behind the bed, aiming the pistol, not daring to breathe.
The latch turned and the door opened, allowing just enough light from the hallway to illuminate the figure of a man entering her room. When he was inside, he closed the door behind him and latched it. Her eyes widened. He tiptoed toward the bed and raised his hands as if to attack. Emma’s heart pounded as she released the pistol break and held her breath.
Available on Amazon!
About the Author
Sophie Schiller was born in Paterson, NJ. She is a novelist and a poet. She loves stories that carry the reader back in time to exotic and far-flung locations. Kirkus Reviews has called her “an accomplished thriller and historical adventure writer.” Publishers Weekly called her novel, ISLAND ON FIRE, “a memorable romantic thriller”, her novel RACE TO TIBET, “a thrilling yarn,” and her TRANSFER DAY, “a page-turner with emotional resonance.” Her novel, THE LOST DIARY OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON, was called, “an engaging coming-of-age story of heartbreak, bravery, honor, and triumph” by Kirkus Reviews. She graduated from American University, Washington, DC and lives in New York.
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