Spotlight: Grave Watch by Annie Anderson

(Soul Reader, #3)

Publication date: September 28th 2021

Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

Synopsis:

Meeting long-lost siblings should be awesome, right?

Well, when you happen to be on the wrong side of the law and have every intention of staying there, having a cop for a sister isn’t exactly ideal. And teaming up with said sister? Well, that is just the cherry on top of the craptastic pie that has been my life.

But when our brother decides to attack us head on, banding together is the least of our problems.

Because in our family? Being the hunter also means being the hunted.

Excerpt

Simon wiped at his leaking eyes before striding across the grass and pulling me up by my biceps. “He gave you an hour and we’ve wasted enough of it. You have to get ready.”

Dumbstruck, I allowed him to pull me by the forearm back to the house. 

“Clem, get their leathers ready,” he called over his shoulder as we crunched over broken glass and fallen books. 

The house looked no better than it had a week ago after our little invasion, and I had to wonder how many times it had broken apart and been put back together by magic over the years. Simon muttered to himself for a second before picking through the debris, yanking me behind him to the staircase. An irritated trill pulled my gaze to my feet, and an angry set of glowing green eyes pierced me with an annoyed glare. Simon yanked me again, and Isis wound around his feet nearly tripping him.

“Damn and blast, Isis. It’s not my fault you went and hid under the bed. The whole bloody house was going to fall on us, you mangy feline, and you can’t die.”

She couldn’t? Well, that was new information—and sort of comforting if I was being honest. The world without a little skeleton kitty in it seemed just a bit awful to me. I pulled my arm out of Simon’s hold and picked up the bone cat, cuddling her in my arms as I continued following him up the stairs. 

“Did evil Simon leave you behind, my sweet girl. What a bad daddy.” Scratching at her nonexistent fur, I smiled evilly when Simon shot me a look over his shoulder as he muttered something about children these days.

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About the Author

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she'll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, an old man of a dog, and a young pup that makes life... interesting.

Connect:

https://www.annieande.com/

https://twitter.com/annieande

https://www.instagram.com/annieande/

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAnnieAnderson

https://www.pinterest.ca/AnnieAnde/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6108766.Annie_Anderson

Spotlight: Threads of Yoga by Pamela Seelig

Yoga draws many practitioners because of its physical benefits, but it is often the experience of peace that people return for. Threads of Yoga supports those seeking to learn more about yoga’s deeper spiritual teachings, helping to deepen and enliven your yoga practice with 30 themes based on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras that can inspire on and off the mat.

Each short chapter introduces a foundational yogic theme, such as letting go, the breath, the yamas and the niyamas, and the chakra system. Each theme is accompanied by practices, including meditation, complementary poses, breath work, or quotes to contemplate.

Threads of Yoga is an ideal guide for both practitioners and teachers who want to connect with the spiritual wisdom of yoga, deepen their personal practice, or develop and support a theme for yoga class.

Excerpt

The Initiation 

My introduction to yoga began in my twenties, not with postures, but with meditation. At the time, I had less than no interest in yoga, which looked to me like a weird practice for flaky people. I considered myself a serious person with more important things to do. As so often happens, life circumstances stepped all over my worldview. My story is similar to those of so many others who turned to yoga and meditation only as a desperate last resort but found healing and relief in what yogis have known for so long. 

I was working on Wall Street in the late eighties during one of the biggest bull markets in history. It was a heady time, and I thought my rather large paycheck proved my importance and worth. I embarrassingly personified the word yuppie—young, upwardly mobile professional. My dreams were coming true. I was living and working in Manhattan, making lots of money . . . which was pretty much the extent of my goals. I’m not proud of these rather shallow, early-in-life dreams, but that’s who I was. 

My job was demanding and, looking back, not sustainable. As a woman trying to excel in an aggressive, male-dominated industry, I put unrealistic demands on myself and did not appreciate the notion of balance. Eventually, I began to feel the stress taking a toll on my body. One night I woke with a powerful headache. I couldn’t get up or even lift my head, and I eventually passed out from the pain. The next morning, I slowly opened my eyes and strangely felt zero pain. Brushing my teeth, I watched in the mirror as the left side of my face began to melt. I thought for sure that I was having a stroke. The left side of my face was completely paralyzed. 

Panicked, I went to the emergency room and learned that I had a fairly common condition called Bell’s palsy. I was relieved that this was not considered serious but rattled when told to expect a three-month recovery. There was also the possibility that there would be no recovery. 

I went home with a small electrical device to intermittently shock the side of my face to delay muscle atrophy, and that was it. There was no medication, no additional physical therapy, nothing I could “do” to end the symptoms of Bell’s palsy. I taped my left eye closed because it didn’t blink, wore an eye patch, and put an earplug in my left ear as loud noises were painful with an inactive eardrum. This new look was made complete with a slight drool out of the corner of my mouth. 

If I went outside, I used my hand to hold up the left side of my face. I remember trying to place an order at my favorite lunch spot. The familiar guy behind the counter just shrugged because he couldn’t understand what I was saying. I left dejected and hungry, thinking this would be the low point of my Bell’s palsy experience. That came later when I was asked to take a leave from work, as my appearance made people uncomfortable. 

Even though Bell’s palsy is not a life-threatening illness, it was the first time I had ever felt physically challenged. I had always been an athlete, with the illusion that I was in charge of my situation, especially my physical body. Now strangers looked at me with what may have been compassion but felt like pity. I was devastated and frightened. 

I began to visit different doctors, hoping for some innovative course of action, but they all said there was nothing to do but wait. One doctor wisely asked if I had “considered meditation or alternative medicine?” I had no idea what that meant, but I now see that the question was a lifeline, and I am so grateful that I grabbed it. 

Even though I had previously dismissed alternative medicine as “wacko,” I was now all in. I read as much as I possibly could with one eye patched and began meeting with energy healers, meditation teachers, a chiropractor, a medium, past-life regression therapists, and more. 

At one of my first appointments, a meditation teacher asked me to do some deep breathing on her count. I was sitting in her comfortable office, and I somehow couldn’t breathe slowly and deeply. I apologized and ran out of her office in tears. The more I tried to relax, the more I realized that I couldn’t. It was at this point that I understood I had some sort of problem. I had no idea what was wrong but believed that figuring it out was critical to recovering and living a healthy life. 

So I started with some meditation at home. I did not start slowly. Reading with one eye was uncomfortable, so I just skimmed some basic instruction and meditated. I liked it. I’m sure this was because I couldn’t go to work, read, or watch TV, but I was doing something. I meditated earnestly for hours, right from the start. I craved the feeling of transcending my physical body. I didn’t know then that it’s best to start with a few minutes of meditation and slowly increase your time. 

What I experienced during meditation blew my mind—from metaphysical experiences to senses of love and light to energetic presences. I glimpsed firsthand that there was more happening than just the physical, five-sensory world. 

I had no idea what was happening, but again I was determined to find out, and with Bell’s palsy, I had some time on my hands. This was pre-internet, so I began my research primarily in bookstores, while also asking doctors and the healers I had started seeing. 

Fortunately, I worked with an experienced energy healer who clued me in. She listened and told me that I could find answers to what was happening by studying yoga. Yoga? I thought skeptically. I did not realize at that time that meditation was a central aspect of yoga. After doing some digging, I was flat-out astonished to find that she was right. This was not at all what I thought yoga was about. 

I began to study older texts from schools in India and was amazed to find that the mystical experiences of some devoted yoga practitioners mirrored my own. I learned about kundalini energy and realized that I had to settle this energy; the way to do that was through yoga postures and breathwork. I had to get healthy by grounding and balancing my system. 

At this point, about three months in, there was no sign of facial recovery. Thankfully, meditating and reading about yoga and other esoteric subjects made the time move along. I became completely enthralled by what I was reading and experiencing. It was like an entire unknown universe opened up, or honestly, a universe I had previously thought was fake. I am sorry I once had that opinion, but now I get it if people roll their eyes when I teach about “out-there” subjects. 

When I started to learn about kundalini energy and life force, or prana, I intuitively knew that this energy was the key to my particular issue. I felt a sense of hope and relief that by getting to the root of the problem, I had the best chance of recovery. I suspect the cause of Bell’s palsy is different for everyone, so by no means do I believe this is a universal cause or a medical opinion. 

I began to incorporate some basic gentle yoga movements with breathwork and lots of meditation into my routine and felt the therapeutic effect on my body. I learned a little about Ayurveda, the medical sister science to yoga, and self-diagnosed that my system was overheated, or in Ayurvedic terms, had excessive agni (fire). When this occurs, the nerves are at risk. My prescription became cooling down my body. I cut back on heating foods such as sugar, alcohol, and coffee—basically my previous diet—and added cooling foods such as green tea, green vegetables, and oatmeal. I intuitively felt that I was on the road to recovery. 

After about four months, I noticed a little flutter in my eyelid, and the corner of my lip started to move. In twelve months, I looked somewhat more like my previous self. Bell’s palsy was the wake-up call or punch in the face I needed to begin to find more balance in my approach to life. It gave me the opportunity to discover a life’s passions: yoga and meditation. Some muscle weakness remains on the left side of my face thirty-some years later, but I am forever grateful for this medical and personal initiation. I struggled to integrate what I was learning into my day-to-day life. At first, I became a bit of a “yogavangelist.” With a lack of subtlety, I steered every conversation toward meditation or yoga. I was utterly intrigued by all things esoteric and genuinely thought that everyone else should be captivated as well. I was perplexed when people would not want to discuss these subjects at length all the time. A lot of people were struggling, and I knew modalities such as meditation could genuinely help.

It took some time, but eventually, I realized that people might be interested in other worthy topics and not so much in meta-physics. I now get (sort of ) that it’s a good thing that we’re all fascinated by different subjects. We each have our role to play in the world, and if we listen to and follow what we’re interested in, life will certainly be more fun and fulfilling for everyone. However, I believe yoga and meditation offer so much benefit to our lives and our world that I remain motivated and energized to share whenever I can.

While I did stay in the finance industry for a few years, eventually my interest in yoga and meditation, along with marriage and two children, led me to leave Wall Street. After a decade of yoga practice, I became an instructor and ultimately opened a studio in my hometown. 

Over the past thirty years, I have witnessed how yoga and related concepts have become more mainstream and popular in the United States and around the world, to the point that we now commercialize and exploit words like nirvana and karma to sell cars. But this commercialization of yoga comes with costs— few people understand the roots of the practice and the depths beyond the postures. I hope that Threads of Yoga will help you explore and experience these concepts in your own practice, begin or continue to share them if you are a teacher, and weave them into your life. I hope they also inspire you to delve into some of the original yoga texts for yourself. 

Yoga teaches us who we are, and it’s time we remember and embrace this astonishing gift.

From Threads of Yoga by Pamela Seelig © 2021 by Pamela Seelig. Reprinted in arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc. Boulder, CO. www.shambhala.com

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback

About the author

Pamela Seelig is a yoga teacher and the author of Threads of Yoga: Themes, Reflections, and Meditations to Weave into Your Practice. She began her yoga and meditation journey in 1991 when an illness interrupted her Wall Street career. Along with helping recovery, the impact of her meditation led to a lifelong pursuit of perceiving and sharing yogic wisdom through practice, teaching, and writing. She completed her teacher training in 2006 at Integral Yoga Institute in New York. Pamela considers Swami Satchidananda, the founder of Integral, as her primary teacher (root guru), but she has trained with many of the top yoga luminaries in the world today. Pamela is a fervent student of yoga and continues to deepen and expand her yogic knowledge and understanding. Along with Hatha yoga, Pamela also studies Patanjali's Yoga Sutras and is a certified Raja Yoga instructor. While grateful for so many brilliant teachers along the way, she regards the practice itself as the greatest teacher. She lives in New Jersey where she practices yoga, teaches yoga workshops, writes, and empty-nests with her husband, Bob, and dog, Bodhi.

Spotlight: Resting Beach Face by Melanie Summers

(Paradise Bay, #4)
Publication date: September 16th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Melanie Summers welcomes you back to Paradise Bay for a ridiculously romantic, laugh-out-loud tale of reluctant homecomings, lost loves, and second chances…
 
Yoga instructor, Hadley Jones, has loved Chase Williams since high school. Fifteen years later, she still does. And while he hasn’t popped the question yet, she knows it’s only a matter of time. Little does Hadley know Chase has been busy making wedding plans—just not with her.
 
Heath Robinson left the Santa Valentina Islands the first chance he got. He’s about to pull together the biggest aeronautical merger in history when he gets a call that has him boarding a plane home. Now, instead of sipping whiskey sours with the big boys, he’ll be watching his bed-ridden mother sip from a juice box. His plan is to help her recover from her moped accident as quickly as possible so he can get back to his real life—hopefully before he runs into the girl who crushed his heart, Hadley Jones.
 
Will Hadley realize that Heath is the real man of her dreams? Will Heath forgive Hadley? Will his mum ever ride a moped again?
 
Find out in this delightfully funny tale of life coming full circle! Resting Beach Face is sure to leave you smiling.

Excerpt

She stares at me for a long moment before adding, "I don't want to lose you again."

"Well, since I'm out of a job, I may have to stick around for a while."

Rolling onto her back, she lets out a sigh. "I know it sounds silly because you only just got back here, but somehow the thought of you leaving again feels like it would be harder than what I've been going through."

"I'm pretty sure you feel that way because of what you're going through," I tell her, shifting onto my side and propping myself up on my elbow.

She shakes her head and her gaze hardens. "No, that's not it.” Lifting herself up, she brings her mouth in line with mine. "That's not it at all."

Swallowing hard, I tell myself not to kiss her—that it's a terrible idea, that it can't go anywhere, that she is going to break my heart if I let her. I tell myself that the timing could not be worse. When that doesn’t work, I mentally yell at myself to learn from the mistakes of my past. 

Then I forget about all those things and press my lips to hers.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback | Bookshop.org

About the Author

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.

Connect:
https://mjsummersbooks.wordpress.com/
https://twitter.com/mjsummersbooks
https://www.instagram.com/mj_summers_author/
https://www.facebook.com/MJSummersAuthorPage
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17105602.Melanie_Summers

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Spotlight: A Lot Like Christmas by Jennifer Snow

Genre: Holiday Romance

Synopsis:

This Christmas season, love comes where you least expect it.

For Jessica Connolly, there is no better place than her coastal hometown of Blue Moon Bay. She has a wonderful family, supportive best friends, and a successful bakery on Main Street. Unfortunately, every time she designs one of her ex-boyfriends' wedding cakes, she's reminded just how unlucky she is with love...and that she's a good luck charm for men to find their happily ever after. With someone else. The minute they break up. So she's decided to be done with love.

Dr. Mitch Jameson is more comfortable traveling the world with Doctors Without Borders than staying in one place. He just needs to survive the holidays in his small hometown before he can leave again. The beautiful, intriguing bakery owner with an aversion to dating might be just who he needs to occupy his restless heart.

From sipping hot chocolates at the local festival of lights to early morning dessert deliveries, Jessica and Mitch rediscover the spirit of the holidays. But when the 25 days of Christmas are over, will their romance be over, too?

Excerpt

He shot a quick glance toward her in the passenger seat of his rental. She’d licked her dark mauve colored lipstick from her lips during dinner and she hadn’t reapplied it. Did that mean she’d be open to a good night kiss? He’d read in a Cosmo magazine left behind on a flight once that the lack of reapplying lipstick was a sign…

         Jeez, now he was getting his relationship advice from a magazine he had no business reading.

         She looked at him, and he quickly turned his attention back to the road. “I’m just the next left,” she said, as he came to a stop sign. The speed limit in the neighborhood was thirty, but he couldn’t be going faster than ten. He was reluctant to see the night end, but inviting her back to the Inn for a drink had seemed too sleazy…but would she invite him into her place?

         It had been far too long since he’d been on a real first date, and it was quickly becoming evident that he had no idea what the dating etiquette was these days in the era of apps and hookups. She’d been quiet on the drive back to her place, so it was hard to read her.

         He turned onto her street and cleared his throat. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate tonight’s date?”

         She grinned as she turned in the seat to face him. “Like if I was leaving a Yelp review?”

         “Yes. Yelp review me.” He could take it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t dock him for his use of the word “corny” or his unimaginative date suggestion.

         She looked as though she were thinking for a long moment. “Um…I’d say it was a solid eight.”

         “Eight.” He nodded slowly. Not bad. Not a ten. “What could have I done for a better score?”

         Jessica’s cheeks flushed slightly as she stared at their joined hands between the seats. “I docked you two points because you are a limited-time offer.”

         He swallowed hard. So, she was looking for something a little more serious in a guy. Normally that response would have him doing the logical, responsible thing—breaking it off before the woman got too invested or got her feelings hurt. So far, he’d been honest and clear in his intentions. Saying goodnight and thanking her for a fun evening was the way to play this.

         But he really wanted to see her again. More than he’d wanted a second date with a woman in a long time. He didn’t want to see her get hurt, of course, but maybe they could take things casually and see what happened.

         All he knew was he’d been dreading this time in his hometown. Dreading the downtime, the holidays with his family, being in one place for too long…but Jessica was already helping him cope.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Mass Market Paperback | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Jennifer Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author writing contemporary romance fiction for Grand Central Publishing, Entangled and Harlequin. Her stories range in heat level from sweet to sexy and are set everywhere from big cities to small towns. Her books are light and humorous, but also full of heart, featuring families and communities readers love to visit over and over again.

Originally from Newfoundland, Canada, she now resides in Spain with her husband, son and three mischievous cats.

She currently publishes psychological thrillers under her pen name J.M. Winchester and writes screenplays and TV shows in her 'spare' time. Her holiday rom-com, Mistletoe and Molly airs Christmas 2021!

More information can be found on her website at www.jennifersnowauthor.com

You can also find her at http://www.twitter.com/@jennifersnow18 and http://www.facebook.com/jennifersnowbooks/

Spotlight: Love, Only Better by PAULETTE STOUT

For Rebecca, sex is a joke missing a punchline. No crashing waves. Only pangs of inadequacy. At twenty-eight, shouldn’t she have had one by now? Her snickering ex thought so. His taunts echo in her ears as he rolls out of her bed. Then out of her life.

Lost, Rebecca seeks expert help, joining a study for women who can’t “finish” in the bedroom. There is such a thing? It’s unconventional, for sure, but she’s desperate for answers. The no-sex mandate is a no brainer. Who’d want to be with her anyway?

Then Kyle moves in. Her blue-eyed, black motorcycle-riding dream of a neighbor lives a heartbeat away. Sparks flew immediately. But could the timing be any worse?

If he learns her secret, she’ll lose her best chance at love. But if her lessons fail, she’ll be left eternally broken. Unlovable.

What started as a search for fulfillment, has suddenly become a quest for something far greater.

Love, Only Better is an intimate quest full of heart, blending a fun next-door romance with steamy dates-for-one. Perfect for fans of Helen Hoang (The Kiss Quotient), Jennifer Weiner (Good In Bed), Jojo Moyes and fans of women's fiction full of wit, spice and soul.

Excerpt

Chapter One

It wasn’t as if the words were unexpected. Hell, Rebecca said them to herself a thousand times over. Only, this was different. Hearing someone else say them—someone she loved. Someone who shared her life and her bed for three years—somehow made them true. And to have Ethan say them. For him to let them free that way. Now, they were alive to reverberate through the universe and rebound on her in unforgiving ways. And he’d no longer be around to save her.

Frigid. Ice queen.

Who calls someone they love an ice queen? Rebecca wondered.

That’s the ticket. Ethan didn’t love her. Had he ever? Or was she just a bad lay; a notch on his belt. Not even a trophy. A third-place yellow ribbon no one wanted, abandoned in the bottom of a drawer.

A wisp of spiderweb dangling from her headboard above fluttered in time with her cleansing breaths. Dust covered. Abandoned. Even the stupid spider hadn’t stuck around.

Frigid. Ice queen.

She flipped up her covers to snatch a tissue from across the room, wiping her eyes and nose before tossing it into the wastebasket under her old desk. The desk in name only. Even back in high school, she did her homework on her bed. The desk chair, like now, was a glorified staging area for clothes somewhere between clean and dirty.

Did she still have it?

She yanked the center drawer open, pawing the time capsule within. Old lipstick, diaries, hair elastics, the wallet-sized card reproduction of her university diploma, tarot cards, and there it was: her third-place ribbon. She won it at summer camp for archery. She’d never held a bow before then, or since. But there it was; evidence that she was once good enough at something to warrant recognition.

The silky cord slid between her fingers until hitting the tassel knot.

So fitting. Third place. Rebecca was third place in her own life, too. She was certainly last place to Ethan. He was probably off finding himself a blue-ribbon sex machine worthy of His Majesty. Even at this hour. New York City never sleeps, after all.

Growing up in the belly of Manhattan, the buzz of life at all hours was as natural as air. The humming streetlights, the shadows, everything held a pulse. Teeming.

Except for her. Rebecca was the one spot of lifelessness in the whole city.

Frigid. Ice queen.

She dropped the ribbon in the drawer and slammed it shut, then quickly froze. Alert, she listened for sounds of stirring. Barbara, her roommate and best friend, was fast asleep in the next room. A lawyer with a big day in court ahead.

Rebecca released her breath, then strode back to bed, flopping on top of her navy down comforter and making herself a burrito with its folded edges. It was as close as she would get to an embrace for who knows how long.

Wiggling for her night table, she switched off the light. Shadows formed at familiar angles on her ceiling. The ceiling she’d pondered for twenty-eight years. Framed pictures of Salvador Dali and Kandinsky hung over her low, long dresser, once filled with frilly pink play clothes, now stuffed with T-shirts and leggings in mismatched shades of black. Her collection of discount designer shoes spilled out of the closet, distractions for the shortcomings of her noir wardrobe.

Her eyes drifted closed.

Ethan’s contorted, red face jolted her awake.

Would she ever sleep again?

Would she ever love again?

Would anyone ever love her?

Was she even worthy of being loved?

She wasn’t sure.

On cue, her nemesis, the mourning dove, made a fluttery landing on the air-conditioning unit blocking half of her window. The distinctive coo was maddening. Was that how Ethan felt when she was unable to climax in bed? A fury of frustration without an outlet?

Rebecca abandoned covers and leaped to battle stations. The vinyl shade creaked its objection as she bent it up to spy on the enemy. The pink towel she put out to dull the air-conditioner drips from upstairs had become a bird magnet. Twigs, leaves, tinsel? Where did they find tinsel in June?

“Shoo! Shoo!” Rebecca whisper screamed, banging on the glass with her fist.

The dusty bird settled in.

“Go on. Go.”

“Becca! Are you fucking kidding? It’s 4:00 a.m.!” Barbara shouted through the wall.

“Sorry!” Rebecca hollered back, watching the bird tuck its wings for sleep. There was a beat of silence.

“Shit,” Barbara muttered. Rebecca heard her feet hit the floor and storm down the parquet hallway, a staple of 1950s’ NYC apartments. The bathroom door closed.

Rebecca dropped the shade and collapsed into the cup of her papasan chair under the window, drawing a branded fleece blanket over her. It was one of the many freebies she got working in advertising; this one was from her hotel client.

After the flush and wash, Barbara exited then walked through Rebecca’s perennially open bedroom door and switched the light on.

Her hand shielded her eyes from the sudden brightness.

Barbara stood in a pink satin Victoria Secret nightie, a matching sleep mask holding up her long, dark locks—a top-shelf weave and proudly not hers—flowing over ebony shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing up?”

“I’m so sorry—”

“Jesus, what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like a clown on acid.”

Rebecca crawled out of the saucer and stood in front of the mirror.

“Yeah, not my best look.”

Black mascara streaked down her face from the blotchy eyes she had been rubbing for hours.

“Where’s Ethan? I thought he was staying over?”

“Gone.”

“Gone home?”

“No. Just gone. We’re done. Well, actually, he was done with me.”

“Wow. I’m so sorry. But… not as sorry as you should be for waking me up…” Barbara said, launching herself to Rebecca’s bed and sliding her sleep mask down over her eyes.

“That’s it? That’s all the consoling I get? I have a blowout with my boyfriend who calls me a ‘frigid ice queen’ and leaves, and…”

“He didn’t,” Barbara said, lifting up on her elbow and raising her mask.

“Oh yes he did.”

“You’re not an ice queen. You know that.”

“Counselor, the evidence is overwhelming.”

“He’s a jackass. I’ve always thought so.”

“Oh, he’s not that bad…”

Barbara raised an eyebrow.

“Come on!”

“I won’t lie to you and say I’m disappointed he’s gone.”

“But… I am,” Rebecca whispered.

“All I mean is he didn’t treat you right. You can absolutely do better.”

Barbara patted the bed next to her. Rebecca folded her arms and looked away.

“You CAN do better. Ethan will regret losing you, and you’ll look back and NOT regret losing him.”

Rebecca pouted her bottom lip.

“Suit yourself. I must sleep more, though.” Barbara left the bed, popped a squeaky kiss on Rebecca’s forehead.

“Leave that damn bird alone, will you?” she said before leaving.

“You left the light on!” Rebecca called after her, but Barbara’s bedroom door closed with a click.

Sighing, Rebecca crawled out of the chair and crossed the room to switch off the light. Dawn’s blueness was already invading. She looked at her bed, but instead returned to sit under her fleece blanket, gathering it about her.

Maybe she could sleep if she was out of bed, away from his smell. She’d have to change the sheets later. She wanted to change everything; beginning with herself.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback

About the Author

Paulette Stout is the fearless author of Love, Only Better, a contemporary novel and bedroom rallying cry for women everywhere.

Born in Manhattan, Paulette is the gold-star wordsmith and owner of her content marketing agency, Media Goddess Inc., where she crafts content for her list of global clients. Prior to MGI, Paulette led content and design teams at several tech companies, and one educational publisher where her elimination of the Oxford comma caused a near riot.

Paulette’s prior career as a media buyer/planner in New York earned her three industry awards, including a MediaWeek All-Star. She earned her Bachelor’s Degree in Communications from Cornell University and her MBA in Marketing from the Lubin School of Business, Pace University.

You can usually find Paulette rearranging words into pleasing patterns while wearing grammar t-shirts.

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Spotlight: Just For A Moment by Kate Carley

Returning home stirs up all of the old memories and heartache Grace Holland would rather forget, but now that she’s back, she finally has a chance to put her demons to rest. Sparks fly when Aarron Beckett agrees to work on her granddad's old plane.  Fall for this hard-working hottie in Just For A Moment by Kate Carley, a Return to Hometown Romance, the next book in the Blue Collar Romance Series.

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From author Kate Carley comes a blue collar, return to hometown romance with heat, heart and a happily ever after.

For Grace Holland, coming home to Oak Bend isn’t easy. The journey stirs up old memories, including the heartbreaking reason her family left town. But now that she’s inherited both her granddad’s old Victorian home and a World War II aircraft that he’d been working desperately to restore, Grace is ready to face down the demons of her past—if the people in Oak Bend will let her.

Aaron Beckett’s life is a balancing act. His aircraft mechanic business is booming and being a single parent of a young daughter keeps him on his toes. But when Gracie Jane Holland, granddaughter of his late friend, steps into his aircraft hangar, Aaron’s well-managed life soars out of control, and every free thought begins and ends with that beautiful blonde.

Even with plenty of excuses to avoid each other, sparks fly while they work together to restore an old fighter plane. And just for a moment, it feels as if they’ve found a deeper, more sustainable connection—until well-meaning half-truths threaten to tear them apart.

When her past and present collide, nothing can prepare Grace for the storm of hatred that pours down on her. Ruthless words leave her questioning whether staying in Oak Bend and putting her heart on the line is worth the pain. Can this small town ever be home again?

Escape to Oak Bend, where blue-collar hotties work hard and love even harder, especially when it comes to landing their happily ever after.

Excerpt 

Copyright 2021 Kate Carley 

“Beck, I’ve heard so many great things about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“People been talking?” Beck chuckled again, but he was studying her face, assessing her with those stunning eyes.

“My grandfather, Win Ross. I’m Grace Holland, and he left instructions that I should reach out to you. That you would have something for me.”

Beck tilted his head a bit to the left, a tender expression passing over his face. “Gracie Jane. I figured you’d be stopping by here at some point. I was sorry to hear about Win’s passing. Everyone in town loved him. And I felt blessed to call him my friend. God, I miss him every day.” 

“Thanks for saying that, Beck. I miss him, too. And it’s just Grace now. I think my granddad was the only one still calling me Gracie Jane.”

“He did.” Beck nodded. “He talked about his granddaughter all the time. He was so proud of you and how you started that company of your own.” 

As he spoke about her granddad, Beck’s eyes softened and his voice warmed. Talking about the most important man in her life with someone she’d just met felt bittersweet. But according to her granddad, Beck was one of his dearest friends.

“I remember how proud he was when I told him about my new business venture.”

“A website design business. What’s it called again?”

“Holland Designs.”

“Right.” He bobbed his head. “Win said you had more work than you could do in a lifetime.”

“That sounds about right.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the memorial. I searched for information but never found anything.” 

Grace bit her lower lip and then shook her head. The memorial had been a point of contention between her and her mother. “There wasn’t one.”

“Yeah, he always said he didn’t want anything like that, but I wondered if his family would have one anyway.”

“No. My mom and I…We just wanted to do exactly what he wanted.” Grace’s mother had an entirely different interpretation of what Edwin Ross had wanted. “And his wish was to not have people standing around, staring at him.”

Beck chuckled softly. “I remember Win saying that.”

Several unpleasant tasks still remained to be accomplished today, and they dampened the joy Grace generally experienced reminiscing about her granddad. “My granddad left something here for me. Do you have that?”

“Right.” Beck pointed toward the corner of the enormous hangar. “It’s in my office.”

With quickened steps, Grace kept pace beside Beck. “This place wasn’t here before. I mean, when I used to live here, there was the airstrip, but there weren’t many hangars. Maybe two or three.” 

“It’s become a thing. Owning a plane. Faster than the ferry if you’re crossing Lake Michigan. Lots of people around the county can afford it. And none of the other towns in the area have an airstrip.” 

Stopping at the door to his office, Grace watched while Aaron walked to his desk and lifted a heavy-looking silver paperweight shaped like an airplane. He plucked a key from underneath and went to a tall wooden cabinet in the corner. With a twist of his wrist, he unlocked the door. From her position outside his office, she could see the small black safe. He entered a code, and the door swung opened. Shifting the contents around, he produced a manilla envelope. Then, Beck reversed his steps until he was standing in front of her again, presenting her with the envelope. 

The strained expression on his face was exactly how Grace’s heart felt in the moment. A deep ache—one of loneliness and sorrow—created by the loss of a precious soul. Slowly, she reached for the envelope.

“Thank you, Beck. Thank you for keeping my granddad’s wishes safe for him. For me.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Beck pinched his lips together and glanced around before meeting her eyes again. “So, are you ready for your tour?”

“Tour? Now? No.” Grace shook her head, fighting a choking feeling at the back of her throat. A tour—wasting time, wandering around—wasn’t part of her plans for today. Not even for a few minutes. “No. I don’t need a tour. But thanks for this.” She lifted the envelope to indicated she had all she needed at the moment.

Again, he tilted his head the slightest bit to the left and then gave a gruff grunt. 

“Suit yourself,” he said. Like a switch had been flipped, his tone turned dark and sarcastic, and Grace had no idea why. “See ya around, Gracie Jane.” 

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About Kate Carley 

Kate Carley broke onto the indie publishing scene in 2016 with her debut novel, Challenged, a 2017 RONE award winner. Since then, she has released ten additional titles that explore small town, family sagas in both the romantic suspense and contemporary romance genres.

Kate took a meandering path to get to the point of published author, including a short stint as a computer systems designer and an extraordinary journey as a home-schooling mom. After more than a dozen years of teaching her kids, Kate opened the front door, pointed the youngest in the direction of the local high school, and focused her attention on writing romance novels.

Now that her four children are off writing their own adventures, Kate is free to drift along in her fictional world, plotting the rise and fall of her characters. She has a passion for black coffee, dark chocolate, and red wine. Not necessarily in that order. Kate lives in the Midwest with her family.  

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