Rancher Next Door by Marie Johnston

Pretend to date, he said. It'll be fine, he said. 

Two years ago, Lucas’s high-school sweetheart divorced him for her boss, leaving him with nothing but a string of words like unreliable, disappointing, and failure. He hasn’t looked at another woman since—a failing farm and an ailing dad are all he has time for. But when an old friend moves back next door, he can’t help but notice she’s a woman. And single. And ignoring him. 

Seven years ago, Trina’s boyfriend left her for greener pastures, leaving her nothing but a son and no child support to help raise him. So when she’s late for the interview of a lifetime and the childhood friend who abandoned her offers to cover, she can’t afford to say no. The proposal is clear: pretend to date him and she’ll get the job she needs with his aunt. 

They both know the deal. It should be no problem. But the more Lucas learns about Trina’s plans and ambitions, the more he knows his ex-wife was right—he has nothing to offer. Yet the bigger the glimpse Trina gets into Lucas’s lonely life, the more she wants to be a part of it, even at the risk of her own damaged heart. These old friends have so much more to risk the second time around, but the temptation next door has never looked so good. 

Rancher Next Door is book #4 in the Part-Time Cowboys series. Each book is a standalone contemporary western romance novel with no cliffhangers.

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About Marie Johnston

Marie Johnston writes award-winning paranormal and contemporary romance and is a RITA® Finalist. Before she was a writer, she was a microbiologist. Depending on the situation, she can be oddly unconcerned about germs or weirdly phobic. She’s also a licensed medical technician and has worked as a public health microbiologist and as a lab tech in hospital and clinic labs. Marie’s been a volunteer EMT, a college instructor, a security guard, a phlebotomist, a hotel clerk, and a coffee pourer in a bingo hall. All fodder for a writer! She has four kids and just as many cats.

Connect with Marie Johnston:

Website: https://www.mariejohnstonwriter.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mjohnstonwriter/ 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/mjohnstonwriter 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mariejohnstonwriter/ 

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2XddWwp 

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Marie-Johnston/e/B00R6SC79Q 

Excerpt Reveal: Redesigning Happiness by Nita Brooks

A Note from Nita:

Thank you for giving Redesigning Happiness a try! When I started writing this story, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted Yvonne to do. She’d gotten over a rejection from her child’s father, built a new business, and was engaged to the perfect man. As the story unfolded and the situations changed, I realized my characters were telling a different story. I hope readers will understand the decisions Yvonne made in the past and the final decision she makes in the end.

- Nita Brooks

Real life is a work in progress… #DesignYourLife

It wasn’t easy for Yvonne Cable to get over a heartbreaking relationship and revamp her life. But now the once-broke single mom is Atlanta’s most sought-after interior designer—and one-half of the media’s hottest power couple. She and her celebrity fiancé, Nathan, are a perfect, practical match, on—and off—camera. And with their new home improvement reality show the object of a fierce network bidding war, there’s no limit to how far they can go . . . 

But Yvonne is stunned when mogul Richard Barrington III unexpectedly makes an offer for their program. He’s the man she thought left her for a more successful woman. And he’s the father of her son—though he didn’t know it until now. Richard wants to get to know their boy, and Yvonne agrees, though she’s wary. Yet little by little, she’s finding it hard to resist the responsible, caring man Richard has become. But when a scandalous leak puts everything Yvonne’s worked for at risk, she’ll have to look beyond surfaces to come to terms with who she is—and discover what she truly wants.

EXCERPT REVEAL

Chapter 1

The Power of Perfection. 

Yvonne Cable stared at the headline and grinned. The glowing feature on her latest design made her want to do cartwheels down the hall in her office. If only she’d mastered the art of a cartwheel. 

The picture below the headline was of the completed home office for her latest client. Muted blue-grey colors created a cozy and restful feel. The natural light from the picture window overlooking the home’s intricate landscape brightened the room. A mixture of textures—cotton, leather, and wood— added depth and visual interest. 

After clawing her way through Atlanta’s cutthroat interior design community, the article in Atlanta Life Magazine was the coveted crown after a hard-fought battle. She created perfection for her clients. Gave them the spaces they needed to be comfortable and content, a haven in their hectic lives. Money, family, status . . . she didn’t care. Whatever her clients needed, she was going to give them.

She put the magazine on her desk and walked over to the perfectly organized whiteboard in her downtown Atlanta office. Nine sections partitioned off. The title of her projects in blue at the top of each section. Tasks associated with each project in green. Due dates written in purple. Red checkmarks for completed tasks. The board served as a quick reference guide to where she was and what she needed to do next. 

Her grin widened as she a grabbed the green dry erase marker to add the title for a new project to the ninth box. Sandra Covington Project. Or, as her assistant Bree liked to call it, the super enviable commission of every designer in Atlanta. The people who’d vied for Sandra’s new home project were many, but Yvonne was the one to land it. 

Sandra Covington, self-help author turned radio personality, had just announced that her radio program was going into nationwide syndication. Yvonne was familiar with Sandra’s radio show. The woman’s advice was quoted everywhere. Known for going deep into her readers’ and clients’ pasts to help them unlock the “key to their potential,” her famously quoted words, Sandra kept her own personal life out of the spotlight. Yvonne didn’t care about Sandra’s past, all she cared about was that she’d gotten the project. Designing Sandra’s house, and possibly getting a shout-out on her show, combined with the notoriety she’d gotten from her appearance on Celebrity Housewives, would go a long way toward increasing the demand for an original Yvonne Cable Design when someone needed decorating for their home or business. 

She’d arrived. Shed the mistakes of the past and become a household name. Her mom still couldn’t believe it. On most days, Yvonne couldn’t believe it either. 

“Yvonne, I got the fabric swatches you needed for the Tyson project, and don’t forget that you’ve got a call with the editor of Lady Entrepreneur magazine in fifteen minutes.” 

Bree Foster, Yvonne’s administrative assistant, swept into Yvonne’s office with an arm full of fabric. She laid the material on the drafting table in the creative corner of Yvonne’s office. Vision boards for projects adorned the walls in that corner. Sketch pads, colored pencils, and drawing notebooks littered the drafting table where Yvonne created her designs. Bree continually purchased organizers to keep Yvonne’s samples in order, but when Yvonne was in the middle of the creative process, materials scattered the desk. As usual, Bree picked up the strewn color charts, pencils, post-its, and papers and put them back into their correct spots. 

“Crap, I completely forgot about that call.” Yvonne hurried over to her desk, in the working corner of her office. Lady Entrepreneur magazine wanted to start a lifestyle section which would include design tips. Yvonne wanted to be the person who supplied the articles. 

Lady Entrepreneur had a wide circulation. Women all over the country subscribed to the magazine, which provided everything from tips for running a business to interviews with successful women on its pages. Of course, she wanted those same women to think of her when they thought of interior design. 

“That’s why I’m here,” Bree said. A recent graduate of design school, they’d met when Yvonne hired Bree as an intern the summer before. After graduation, Yvonne had snatched up the brilliant designer immediately. “Besides, you’ve got a good excuse. I can imagine your head is elsewhere.” Bree grinned and squeezed her hands together in front of her chest. Bree’s curly hair was worn in a cute pixie cut and her brown eyes sparkled with excitement behind a pair of black framed glasses. 

“I know. I’ve been busy thinking about what I need for my first meeting with Sandra Covington.” 

“I’m not talking about that. I mean your proposal over the weekend. The way Nathan surprised you! That was so romantic!” 

Yes. The proposal. You’d think saying yes to the man she loved after he proposed via the jumbotron at the Atlanta Braves game wouldn’t slip her mind. Honestly, she was still getting used to the idea of being engaged. For the past six years, she’d been a single mom and business owner. Now she was part of a team. Of course, she would have a hard time believing it.

Nathan Lange, home improvement television star, boy next-door sex symbol, and all-around good guy, was her fiancé. She couldn’t be happier. And if she happened to notice that saying yes to Nathan had gotten her more congratulations and well wishes than starting her own business, being named business woman of the year twice, or working for a star on Celebrity Housewives, she didn’t let it bother her. Not too much. 

Marriage was a big deal. Her son, Jacob, would have a father. She would have a man who loved and supported her. That was worth congratulating.

She glanced at the three-carat diamond on her left hand. “I can’t wait to marry Nathan, but no, that’s not what distracted me. Now that I’ve got Sandra’s account, I want to make sure I don’t let any other projects slip through the crack.” 

“That’s what you have me for,” Bree said. “As your administrative assistant, I’m determined to keep you on track. But once you and Nathan get the television show, I may need an assistant for all of the work that’s going to come your way.” 

Yvonne knocked three times on the oak surface of her desk, then crossed her fingers. “I hope so. The television show is still up in the air.” 

She’d met Nathan on the set of Celebrity Housewives, where he’d worked as the contractor. The disagreements and attraction between them had sparked almost instantly. So much so, they’d stolen every scene they were in. Their chemistry had given Nathan’s publicist the idea they could be the new helm of a home improvement show. While Yvonne had never thought about television, she wasn’t one to turn down the opportunity to grow her business even further. She’d once been forced to accept whatever scraps she could get from the person who claimed to love her. Not anymore. Neither she, nor her son, would ever be in that position again. 

“You guys will get it.” 

“Maybe, but until then I can’t forget what got me here in the first place. No matter what happens with me and Nathan, Yvonne Cable Designs is and always will be my priority. I fought too hard to build my brand to this point to let it go just because I’m getting married.” 

“But you will be making time to plan your wedding.” 

“You know it!” 

“I’d expect nothing less.” Bree looked at her cell phone. “Five minutes until the call. I’ll leave you alone so you can get ready.” 

Yvonne went through the notes she’d jotted down for why she should be their go-to person for the lifestyle section. When she’d spoken with Lashon, the editor of the magazine, she’d still been considering a few other designers. This call would, hopefully, convince Lashon to go with her. 

Lashon called right on time. They went through the normal pleasantries: quick stories about their kids, Lashon had two girls, and the latest good news from the magazine staffers. Then Lashon got to business. 

“Look, Yvonne, I know you’ve gotten really busy lately.” 

“Not too busy to supply design tips for the readers of your magazine. I was thinking of a focus on commercial spaces. Restaurants, offices, things like that.” 

“Actually, I was thinking we could go in a different direction,” Lashon said before Yvonne could go into the reasons why she was the right choice.

“You’re no longer looking to include interior design tips?”

“No, silly. I’m surprised you haven’t already figured that out,” Lashon said laughing. “I want the feature to be with you and Nathan.” 

“Really?” That idea had not crossed her mind.

“It’s genius, right?”

“I’m not sure I’m following along.”

“Lady Entrepreneur is still going to focus on women business owners, but I’m thinking of expanding the lifestyle section to also tackle relationships. Doesn’t that make sense?” 

Not entirely, considering the magazine was supposed to be a business resource, but Yvonne never claimed to be an expert in magazine editing. “I’m intrigued by this new direction. Tell me more.” 

“We did a survey of our subscribers. Many of them are single women who are also struggling to find a balance between work and family. You, my friend, are now the epitome of what so many single women want. You made a successful career despite having a child.” 

“Despite?” A child wasn’t an automatic liability. 

“And even though you are a single mother, you still happened to land a great guy like Nathan Lange. We think a quarterly feature on how you balance being a wife, mother, and business owner would go a long way to giving our readers hope.” 

Giving the readers hope? Landing a great guy like Nathan hadn’t been part of her life goals. If anything, after the disaster that was her relationship with Jacob’s father, she’d never believed she would trust a man again. But she had, and yes, Nathan was great, and she was happy things worked out, but she wouldn’t say her life was now defined by her engagement. Was it? 

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ABOUT NITA BROOKS

A reading addict, self-professed connoisseur of home improvement shows, and a collector of teapots, Nita Brooks resides in South Carolina with her family. You can connect with her on Facebook and Twitter at @AuthorNitaB.

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Spotlight: Meant to Be by Nan Reinhardt

Meant to Be
Nan Reinhardt
(Four Irish Brothers Winery, #2)
Published by: Tule Publishing
Publication date: July 18th 2019
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Can a near-tragedy help two best friends realize they’re meant to be so much more?

Best friends since grade school, high-powered Chicago attorney, Sean Flaherty, and small-town mayor Megan Mackenzie have always shared a special bond. When Sean is shot by a client’s angry ex, Megan rushes to his side, terrified she’s about to lose her long-time confidant.

Upon his return to River’s Edge to recuperate, Sean discovers that his feelings for his pal have taken an undeniable turn for the romantic. While Megan struggles with an unfamiliar longing for Sean, she worries that he may be mistaking a safe place to land for love.

Can Sean help her realize that they are truly meant to be so much more than friends?

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EXCERPT:

Meg was afraid to ask, but she did anyway. “What happened?”

“Sean’s been shot.” Sam crumpled back into the booth, sobbing.

Megan gasped as bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t even comprehend Sam’s words. Sean was shot? The invincible Sean Flaherty? Her buddy? Her best friend? His handsome face flashed into her mind—the lock of dark hair that invariably fell across his brow, the blue, blue eyes that sparkled sapphire with wit or turned dark navy with emotion, that killer smile, those amazing Flaherty dimples… impossible!

“What?” She sat down across from Sam. “Shot?” She could hardly catch her breath. “When? Where?”

Sam grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and swiped at her eyes. “I–I don’t know much. Charlie Smith at the firm said it happened right outside the courthouse in Evanston early this afternoon. Some crazy woman. The wife of his current client. They took him to Northwestern; he’s in surgery right now.” She took a shaky breath. “Conor’s driving up to meet Aidan and Brendan at the airport, then they’re heading to the hospital.” She covered her mouth with both hands as if that could stop her lips from trembling, then shuddered. “Dear God, Meg.”

Megan closed her eyes, trying desperately to banish the dreadful pictures in her head—Sean on a gurney, pale and bleeding—and replace them with ones from the last time she’d seen him—grinning and pouring sparkling wine on New Year’s Eve.

They’d hugged each other at midnight because neither of them had had a date, and Sean had pressed his warm lips to her forehead. “You’re the best, Megs,” he’d murmured and held her close to his brawny chest for a long moment. She felt the even beat of his heart under the navy sweater he wore—the one she’d knitted for him for Christmas that made his eyes look deep blue.

“I’m going up there.” Megan stood and gazed at Sam. “I have to, Sam. He’s my oldest and dearest friend. Maybe there’s nothing I can do, but I can spell the guys at visitation and maybe, I dunno, give blood or something. I just know I can’t stay here. I’ll go crazy. I have to see him.”

Sam stared at her silently, then sighed. “Come on. Let’s trade cars. I don’t trust your old beater to make it to Indianapolis, and you sure as heck can’t ride Big Red all the way to Chicago.”

Author Bio:

Nan Reinhardt is a USA Today-bestselling author of romantic fiction for women in their prime. Yeah, women still fall in love and have sex, even after 45! Imagine! She is a wife, a mom, a mother-in-law, and a grandmother. Nan has been a copyeditor and proofreader for over 25 years, and currently works on romantic fiction titles for a variety of clients, including Avon Books, St. Martin’s Press, Kensington Books, and Entangled Publishing, as well as for many indie authors.

Although she loves her life as an editor, writing is Nan’s first and most enduring passion. Her latest novel, Meant to Be, Book 2 in the Four Irish Brothers Winery series from Tule Publishing releases on July 18, 2019. A Small Town Christmas, which is the first book in the Four Irish Brothers Winery series from Tule Publishing, is available now, and she is currently hard at work on Book 3.

Visit Nan’s website at www.nanreinhardt.com, where you’ll find links to all her books as well as blogs about writing, being a Baby Boomer, and aging gracefully…mostly. Nan also blogs every sixth Wednesday at Word Wranglers, sharing the spotlight with five other romance authors and is a frequent contributor the RWA Contemporary Romance blog, and she contributes to the Romance University blog where she writes as Editor Nan.

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Spotlight: Lions of the Sky by Paco Chierici

A Top Gun for the new millennium, Lions of the Sky propels the reader into a realm in which friendship, loyalty, and skill are tested, battles won and lost in an instant, and lives irrevocably changed in the time it takes to plug in your afterburners.

Sam Richardson is a fighter pilot’s pilot, a reluctant legend with a gut-eating secret. He is in the last span of his tour as an instructor, yearning to get back to the real action of the Fleet, when he is ordered to take on one last class—a class that will force him to confront his carefully quarantined demons.

Brash, carefree, and naturally gifted, Keely Silvers is the embodiment of all that grates on him. After years of single-minded dedication, she and her classmates can see the finish line. They are months away from achieving their life-long dream, flying Navy F/A-18 fighters. They are smart and hard-working, but they’re just kids with expensive new toys. They’re eager to rush through training and escape to the freedom of the world beyond, a world they view as a playground full of fast jets and exotic locales.

But Sam knows there is a darker side to the profession he loves. There is trouble brewing in the East with global implications. If they make it past him they will be cast into a dangerous world where enemy planes cruise the skies over the South China Sea like sharks, loaded with real weapons and hidden intentions.

With fans already excited for the new film Top Gun: Maverick (releasing June 2020), Lions of the Sky gives readers an inside look at the world of the fighter pilot, from someone who’s been there.

Excerpt

Virginia Beach, Virginia

Slammer sliced through the crisp early morning air in a jet with his name stenciled on the side: LT Sam “Slammer” Richardson. For his last flight as a Navy fighter pilot instructor he’d finagled a spot on a dawn flight for his favorite dogflght hop, a 2 versus 1, where he was the lone bad guy. Now he was heading back for administrative chores on Earth. He felt his heartbeat slowing to normal as he peered from the cockpit at the Atlantic, watching as the color of the sea gradually melted from a deep turquoise blue a hundred miles off the coast of Virginia to a slate gray as he cruised closer to shore. The surface of the ocean was still and heavy, like slowly undulating molten lead. He had a little gas to play with so he gently tilted the stick on the F/A-18E Super Hornet—the Rhino, as the aircrew called it.

Some Rhinos had two seats but this variant had only one, and for once he was glad to be in the cockpit alone with his thoughts. He was going to miss his buddies. They had worked together for the past couple years as instructors at the Naval Air Station Oceana, and prior to that in their previous Fleet squadron for an action-packed three years. He felt a twinge of regret leaving them behind but he could feel the undeniable thirst building for the action of the Fleet. It was definitely time to rotate back into life at sea. To flying real missions, not training ones.

The plane banked responsively, turning toward the northern corner of the Carolinas, Kitty Hawk and Kill Devil Hill. As the pale strip of sandy shoreline marched closer, a line of snowy white puffies dotted the horizon looking like a hanging playground of cotton candy suspended a couple of thousand feet above the sailboats and rolling waves. Almost of its own volition, the Rhino climbed and banked, surfing the cloud tops, gently tearing off a piece of fluff with a wingtip as it rolled inverted, descending a few hundred feet in the blink of an eye, and rolled upright again. At times like these, when his hands transmitted his thoughts directly to the control surfaces without effort, Slammer felt like he was just along for the ride. The plane was an extension of his body; no conscious input was needed to roll inverted once more and fall, fall weightlessly until he recovered just above the waves. 100 feet above the water, 450 knots, there was no stress. No sweat beading on his brow, no abnormally high pulse, just a wide smile hidden behind his oxygen mask. While the world raced by just below, miles clicking away at an absurd pace, propelled by the explosive violence of combustion, he was at peace at the tip of the spear.

As the Rhino approached the shore and the confines of the Air Traffic Control system, the spell was broken and, like a horse headed for the barn, the Rhino climbed and pointed north over the Albermarle Sound toward the Naval Air Station Oceana. He approached the airfield, contacted the tower, and was cleared for the overhead pattern; no other traffic in the area. This was the perfect way to end his tenure with the training squadron, he thought, grinning. He maneuvered toward the runway at fifteen hundred feet, watching through the Virginia Pines the jam of cars carrying morning commuters, wondering if they were watching him. When he was three miles from the runway’s end he nudged the nose over slightly and cracked the afterburners, just a bit, igniting twin plumes of focused flame. The Rhino surged forward like a rocket, accelerating to 600 knots in a few beats of the heart as he leveled off just above the green blur of tree tops.

In a flash he was over the runway. “Roman Two-One, numbers,” he informed the tower.

“The pattern is yours, Roman.”

As the near end of the runway disappeared below the pointy nose of his jet, he snapped to the left, one wing pointed straight at the earth, the other up to the heavens. Then he pulled back on the stick, quick yet smooth, grunting as speed and back-stick squatted the jet into a tight, seven-and-a-half G arc. A moment later, the aerial u-turn complete, he rolled level racing at 300 knots in the opposite direction. He was a mile abeam the runway, smokin’ fast 800 feet above the grass. Just where he wanted to be. Now his pulse was up. He was alert, working hard but still having fun. At the moment the end of the runway flashed below his wing, he turned left again, pulling hard on the stick. As the speed dropped quickly he threw down the landing gear and moved the flap switch to FULL. With 90 degrees to go to line up with the runway, he was all set—decelerating nicely, gear down, flaps down.

“Roman Two-One, three down and locked,” he transmitted.

“Cleared to land.”

Rolling into the groove, two hundred feet off the ground on runway centerline, he scanned with a practiced eye and picked up the ball—the meatball—centered between the two rows of green reference lights, just where it should be. The meatball was the device adjacent the runway that beamed glide-slope information into the sky so the pilots could land precisely. Keeping the ball centered as the plane slowed to approach speed, he worked the throttles like a concert violinist, gently adding and withdrawing diesel to the turbines, feeling the plane as it slowed slightly or rose on a summer thermal, fighting the forces of entropy conspiring to push the ball from the middle where it was aligned with the green lights.

From the ground, if one stood just next to the meatball lens as it projected its glide-slope of orange light into the air, the Rhino would appear steady as a rock, locked in the same piece of sky and magically enlarging as it got closer. In the cockpit, the pilot would be working hard, hands and feet making hundreds of minute corrections, eyes scanning nonstop.

The groove lasts but fifteen to eighteen ticks of a clock’s second hand, about the time it takes to tie a shoe, but careers are made and lives are changed in that span. A few heartbeats later the wheels smashed onto the runway as Slammer and the Rhino left their natural environment. While the plane slowed, the computer-enhanced control surfaces twitched back and forth, like the wings of a primordial creature reluctantly realizing it was now firmly on the ground.

“Nice break,” came from the tower, and Slammer’s grin widened as he taxied off the runway, popping one of the fittings holding his oxygen mask so it now dangled jauntily from one side.

Reprinted from Lions of the Sky. Copyright © 2018 by Paco Chierici.

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About the Author

Francesco “Paco” Chierici is the author of Lions of the Sky. During his active duty career in the US Navy, Chierici flew A-6E Intruders and F-14A Tomcats, deployed to conflict zones from Somalia to Iraq and was stationed aboard carriers including the USS Ranger, Nimitz and Kitty Hawk. Unable to give up dogfighting, he flew the F-5 Tiger II for a further ten years as a Bandit concurrent with his employment as a commercial pilot. Throughout his military career, Paco accumulated nearly 3,000 tactical hours, 400 carrier landings, a Southwest Asia Service Medal with Bronze Star, and three Strike/Flight Air Medals. Chierici’s writing has appeared in Aviation Classics magazine, AOPA magazine, and Fighter Sweep. He also created and produced the award-winning naval aviation documentary, Speed and Angels. Currently a 737 captain, Chierici can often be found in the skies above California flying a Yak-50 with a group of likeminded G-hounds to get his dogfighting fix. He lives in Northern California with his wife Hillary, and two children.

Spotlight: No Ocean Too Wide by Carrie Turansky

Between the years of 1869 to 1939 more than 100,000 poor British children were sent across the ocean to Canada with the promise of a better life. Those who took them in to work as farm laborers or household servants were told they were orphans–but was that the truth?

After the tragic loss of their father, the McAlister family is living at the edge of the poorhouse in London in 1908, leaving their mother to scrape by for her three younger children, while oldest daughter, Laura, works on a large estate more than an hour away. When Edna McAlister falls gravely ill and is hospitalized, twins Katie and Garth and eight-year-old Grace are forced into an orphans’ home before Laura is notified about her family’s unfortunate turn of events in London. With hundreds of British children sent on ships to Canada, whether truly orphans or not, Laura knows she must act quickly. But finding her siblings and taking care of her family may cost her everything.

Andrew Fraser, a wealthy young British lawyer and heir to the estate where Laura is in service, discovers that this common practice of finding new homes for penniless children might not be all that it seems. Together Laura and Andrew form an unlikely partnership. Will they arrive in time? Will their friendship blossom into something more?

Inspired by true events, this moving novel follows Laura as she seeks to reunite her family and her siblings who, in their darkest hours, must cling to the words from Isaiah: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God”.

Excerpt

1

London 1909

Katie McAlister’s heart pounded out a frantic beat as she gripped the rickety railing and rushed down the back stairs. She shoved open the heavy door at the bottom and jumped into the dark alley behind the dress shop. Cool, gray mist swirled around her, carrying the smell of rotting food and choking coal smoke.

She darted a quick glance to the left and then the right, and tremors raced down her arms. She never went out alone at this time of night. It wasn’t safe, not in this part of London. She couldn’t let her fears keep her from doing what she must.

If only her older sister, Laura, were here. She would know what to do, but she was miles away.

Katie took off down the alley, dodging wooden crates overflowing with broken bottles and stinking trash. A cat’s screech pierced the air. Katie gasped and jumped to the side. The cat dashed past, a black shadow in the faint light of the gas streetlamps.

She pulled in a ragged breath as she rounded the corner, her footsteps slapping on the cold, slick cobblestones. She should have gone for help sooner, but Mum had begged her not to leave.

She ran past the boot shop and bakery, then cut through an alley and dashed up to the Grahams’ door. With a shaky hand she knocked three times, then bit her lip and stood back. No one came so she pounded again, harder this time. “Mrs. Graham!”

The door finally swung open, and her mother’s friend squinted out at her. She wore a white ruffled cap over her hair and a gray woolen shawl draped around her shoulders. “Goodness, Katie, is that you?”

“Yes ma’am. Can you come? Mum has taken a turn for the worse. She’s burnin’ with fever, and her breathing is so raspy we don’t know what to do.”

A fearful look flashed across the woman’s face, and she gave a quick nod. “Of course, love. I’ll just gather some things.”

Katie closed her stinging eyes and blew out a heavy breath. Everything would be all right now. Mrs. Graham knew how to nurse the sick. Katie swallowed hard, praying Mrs. Graham’s help would be enough. But the painful memory of her dad’s accident eighteen months earlier came rushing back.

He had been injured in a terrible train wreck. Mum had nursed him around the clock for three days. The whole family had prayed he would recover, but he’d slipped away from them and shattered their world.

They’d been forced to leave their modest home and move into the three small rooms over the dress shop where Mum worked long hours doing hand sewing, finishing dresses for Mrs. Palmer. At least Mum had worked for Mrs. Palmer until eight days ago, when she had come down with a fever and taken to her bed.

Mrs. Graham stepped outside, carrying a basket over her arm. “Come along, child.”

Katie stiffened. She wasn’t a child. She was fourteen, and she worked alongside Mum most days, caring for her younger sister, Grace, and doing some of the cooking and laundry. But this was no time to argue the point. She hurried after Mrs. Graham, sending up a silent prayer as she followed her mum’s friend through the neighborhood and then turned into the alley behind the dress shop. She ran ahead and opened the door for Mrs. Graham.

“Blimey, it’s as dark as a cave in here.” Mrs. Graham grabbed up her skirt and climbed the creaking stairs.

Katie stopped at the bottom step and looked up. Gray light shone through the lone window, spreading ghostly shadows over the steps. Cold dread filled her stomach. If only she could turn and run away from the painful scene that awaited her. But her twin brother, Garth, was upstairs with Mum and seven-year-old Grace. They were counting on her, and she wouldn’t leave them to face this frightening night alone.

Pulling in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and climbed the stairs. When she reached the top, she followed Mrs. Graham inside. Dank odors from the alley penetrated their small flat even though she and Mum did their best to keep everything clean. A single lantern burned by Mum’s bedside, spreading a faint light around the chilly room.

Mrs. Graham bustled toward the bed where Mum lay. Katie’s brother and sister sat on the other bed. Grace curled up beside Garth and hid her face in his shoulder. He looked across at Katie, his anxious gaze penetrating hers, reading her thoughts.

It had always been that way, ever since she could remember. Mum said when they were toddlers they had their own language—“twin-speak,” she used to call it. And though many years had passed since then, they still had a strong connection and could usually tell what the other was thinking. There were no secrets between them.

Katie moved toward the bed where Grace and Garth waited. She gently ran her hand over her sister’s damp blond curls. Poor dear. It was almost midnight. She should be asleep, dreaming of happier days.

Mrs. Graham spoke softly to Mum as she straightened the sheet and blanket across her chest, but Mum did not answer. Instead, she tossed her head, her cheeks flushed and damp.

Grace looked across at Mrs. Graham. “Is she going to be all right?”

Mrs. Graham hesitated. “Of course, love.” But her words were unconvincing. She shifted her gaze from Grace to Katie. “Why don’t you go in the kitchen and put on the teakettle? Garth, you and Grace go with her. A cuppa will help us all.”

“Yes ma’am.” Katie reached for Grace’s hand and helped her sister off the bed. Garth stood and followed them into the adjoining room.

Garth added a small scoop of coal to the stove, his expression distant and troubled. Katie filled the kettle and tried to ignore the ache in her chest. Grace climbed into one of the chairs at the round table, watching them both with wide blue eyes.

Katie took four cups from the shelf and set them on the table, then reached for the canister of tea. It was almost empty, and they had no sugar. The bread was gone. All they had left were a few shriveled potatoes and an onion. With a weary sigh, she added tea leaves to the pot and let them steep.

Grace leaned her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her hand. “Can I have hot chocolate?”

Garth sent Katie a quick glance, his meaning clear. Don’t upset Grace. He turned to their younger sister. “Not tonight, Gracie. Maybe tomorrow.”

Grace crossed her arms on the table and lay her head down with a tired sigh.

Garth opened the cupboard and scanned the empty shelves. He gave his head a slight shake, then turned to face Katie. “I’ll speak to Mr. Davies. Maybe he’ll give me my wages early.”

Katie nodded, hoping the butcher would agree. Garth worked for Mr. Davies after school and all day on Saturday as his delivery boy. The man was notoriously stingy and always made Garth wait until the end of the month for his pay. It wasn’t much, but Mum hadn’t earned any money since she’d been feeling poorly, and they needed Garth’s wages as soon as Mr. Davies would pay him.

Mrs. Graham stepped into the kitchen, her hands clasped tightly together. “Garth, I need you to run back to my house and tell Mr. Graham to fetch the wagon. We have to take your mum to the hospital.”

Katie’s heart lurched. “Mum doesn’t want to go to the hospital. Surely there’s something we can do for her here.”

Mrs. Graham’s expression softened as she looked from Katie to Garth. “Your mum needs a doctor and trained nurses looking after her, or I fear she…” Her voice drifted off, and she shot a pained look at Grace.

Katie laid her hand over the cross necklace beneath her dress and tried to swallow back her fear. She knew Mum’s illness was serious. But they couldn’t afford to summon a doctor. How would they ever be able to pay a hospital bill?

But what choice did they have? With Dad gone and Laura working so far away, someone had to make this choice for Mum.

Garth grabbed his cap and sweater from the hook on the wall and strode toward the door without a word. He would do as Mrs. Graham asked and fetch her husband.

Katie poured a cup of tea for Mrs. Graham and took it to her. Then she sat with Grace beside Mum’s bed. Fearsome questions filled her mind while they waited for Garth to return with Mr. Graham. Mum’s face grew even more flushed, and she tossed her head from side to side, murmuring words Katie couldn’t understand.

Finally, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Garth strode in, followed by Mr. Graham and the Grahams’ son, Jacob. They quickly placed a heavy blanket under Mum to use as a stretcher. Mr. Graham took two corners near Mum’s head, and Mrs. Graham and Jacob each took one of the other corners.

Katie reached for her sweater. “We’ll come with you.”

Excerpted from No Ocean Too Wide by Carrie Turansky. Copyright © 2019 by Carrie Turansky. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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About the Author

CARRIE TURANSKY is an award-winning author of twenty novels and novellas. She has won the ACFW Carol Award, the Crystal Globe Award, and the International Digital Award, and was a finalist for the Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award and the Maggie Award of Excellence. A prolific writer of contemporary and historical romance, women’s fiction, short stories, articles, and devotionals, Carrie lives in central New Jersey with her husband, Scott. They have five adult children and six grandchildren.

Spotlight: Spin the Dawn (The Blood of Stars Series #1) by Elizabeth Lim

Project Runway meets Mulan in this sweeping fantasy about a young girl who poses as a boy to compete for the role of imperial tailor and embarks on an impossible journey to sew three magic dresses, from the sun, the moon, and the stars.

Maia Tamarin dreams of becoming the greatest tailor in the land, but as a girl, the best she can hope for is to marry well. When a royal messenger summons her ailing father, once a tailor of renown, to court, Maia poses as a boy and takes his place. She knows her life is forfeit if her secret is discovered, but she’ll take that risk to achieve her dream and save her family from ruin. There’s just one catch: Maia is one of twelve tailors vying for the job.

Backstabbing and lies run rampant as the tailors compete in challenges to prove their artistry and skill. Maia’s task is further complicated when she draws the attention of the court magician, Edan, whose piercing eyes seem to see straight through her disguise.

And nothing could have prepared her for the final challenge: to sew three magic gowns for the emperor’s reluctant bride-to-be, from the laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of stars. With this impossible task before her, she embarks on a journey to the far reaches of the kingdom, seeking the sun, the moon, and the stars, and finding more than she ever could have imagined.

Steeped in Chinese culture, sizzling with forbidden romance, and shimmering with magic, this young adult fantasy is pitch-perfect for fans of Sarah J. Maas or Renée Ahdieh.

Excerpt

I had three brothers once.

Finlei was the oldest--the brave one. Nothing frightened him, not spiders or needles or a flogging from Baba’s cane. He was the quickest of us four children, fast enough to catch a fly with only his thumb and a thimble. But along with his dauntlessness came a craving for adventure. He despised having to work in our shop, having to spend the sun’s precious light sewing dresses and mending shirts. And he was careless with the needle, his fingers constantly bandaged from pricks and his work marred with uneven stitches. Stitches I would unpick and redo to save him from Baba’s lectures.

Finlei didn’t have the patience to become a tailor like Baba.

Sendo had patience, but not for sewing. My second brother was the poet in the family, and the only weaving he loved was of words, especially about the sea. He would tell stories about the beautiful garments Baba could sew, with such exquisite detail all the ladies in town clamored to buy them--only to find they didn’t exist.

As punishment, Baba made him sit on the pier behind our shop, unraveling thread from silkworm cocoons. Often I stole out to sit with him, to listen to his tales of what lay beyond that never-ending horizon of water.

“What color is the ocean?” Sendo would ask me.

“Blue, silly. What else?”

“How will you be the best tailor in A’landi if you don’t know your colors?” Sendo shook his head and pointed at the water. “Look again. Look into the depths of it.”

“Sapphire,” I said, studying the ocean’s gentle crests and troughs. The water sparkled. “Sapphire, like the stones Lady Tainak wears around her neck. But there’s a hint of green . . . jade green. And the foam curls up like pearls.”

Sendo smiled. “That’s better.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and hugged me close. “One day, we’ll sail the seas, you and I. And you’ll see the blue in all the world.”

Because of Sendo, blue was my favorite color. It painted the white of my walls when I opened my window each morning and saw the sea glittering in the sunlight. Sapphire or cerulean. Azure. Indigo. Sendo trained my eyes to see the variations in color, to appreciate the dullest brown to the brightest pink. How light could bend something into a thousand possibilities.

Sendo’s heart was for the sea, not for becoming a tailor like Baba.

Keton was my third brother, and the closest to me in age. His songs and jokes made everyone laugh, no matter what mood we were in. He always got in trouble for dyeing our silks green instead of purple, for carelessly stepping on newly pressed dresses with dirty sandals, for forgetting to water the mulberry trees, and for never spinning yarn fine enough for Baba to knit into a sweater. Money slipped through his fingers like water. But Baba loved him best--even though Keton didn’t have the discipline to become a tailor.

Then there was me--Maia. The obedient daughter. My earliest memories were of sitting contentedly with Mama as she worked the spinning wheel, listening to Finlei, Sendo, and Keton playing outside while Baba taught me to roll Mama’s thread so it wouldn’t tangle.

My heart was for becoming a tailor: I learned to thread needles before I could walk, to make a line of perfect stitches before I could talk. I loved my needlework and was happy learning Baba’s trade instead of going out with my brothers. Besides, when Finlei taught me to spar and shoot arrows, I always missed the target. Even though I soaked up Sendo’s fairy tales and ghost stories, I could never tell one of my own. And I always fell for Keton’s pranks, no matter how often my older brothers warned me of them.

Baba proudly told me I was born with a needle in one hand, a pair of scissors in the other. That if I hadn’t been born a girl, I might have become the greatest tailor in A’landi, sought after by merchants from one coast of the continent to the other.

“A tailor’s worth is not measured by his fame, but by the happiness he brings,” Mama said, seeing how disappointed Baba’s words made me. “You will hold the seams of our family together, Maia. No other tailor in the world can do that.”

I remembered beaming at her. Back then, all I wanted was for my family to be happy and whole like this--always.

But then Mama died, and everything changed.

We had been living in Gangsun, a key city along the Great Spice Road, and our shop occupied an entire half block. Baba was a well-respected tailor, known throughout southern A’landi for his skill at dressmaking. But ill times fell upon us, my mother’s death opening the first crack in Baba’s strong will.

He began to drink heavily--a way to drown his sorrows, he said. That didn’t last long--in his grief, Baba’s health deteriorated until he was unable to stomach any sort of spirits. He returned to his work at the shop, but he was never quite the same.

Customers noticed the decline in quality of Baba’s sewing and mentioned it to my brothers. Finlei and Sendo never told him; they didn’t have the heart. But a few years before the Five Winters’ War, when I was ten, Finlei convinced Baba to leave Gangsun and move into a shophouse in Port Kamalan, a small coastal town along the fringes of the Road. The fresh sea air would be good for Baba, he insisted.

Our new home occupied the corner of Yanamer and Tongsa Streets, across from a shop that made hand-pulled noodles so long you could get full on just one, and a bakery that sold the best steamed buns and milk bread in the world--at least it tasted that way to my brothers and me when we were hungry, which we often were. But what I loved most was the beautiful view of the ocean. Sometimes while I watched the waves roll along the piers, I secretly prayed that the sea would mend Baba’s broken heart--the way it was slowly healing mine.

Business was best in the summers and winters, when all the caravans traveling east and west on the Great Spice Road stopped in Port Kamalan to enjoy our temperate weather. My father’s little shop depended on a steady supply of indigo, saffron, ocher--colors for our dyes. It was a small town, so we not only tailored garments but also sold fabrics and threads. It had been a long time since Baba had crafted a gown worthy of a great lady, and when the war began, there was little business to be had anyway.

Excerpted from Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim. Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Lim. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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About the Author

ELIZABETH LIM grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she was raised on a hearty diet of fairy tales, myths, and songs. Before becoming an author, Elizabeth was a professional film and video game composer, and she still tends to come up with her best book ideas when writing near a piano. An alumna of Harvard College and the Juilliard School, she now lives in New York City with her husband and her daughter.

Spin the Dawn (book 1 in the Blood of Stars series) was her first original novel, and Unravel the Dusk is her second. 

Visit her at elizabethlim.com
Follow her on Twitter @LizLim
Follow her on Instagram @elimpix