Spotlight: A Hate Like This by Whitney Dineen & Melanie Summers

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(A Gamble on Love Mom-Com, #2)
Publication date: September 8th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Single mother Moira Bishop hates when her family interferes in her love life. If life as a young widow isn’t hard enough, just add three boys, a slew of unruly pets, and ownership of Gamble Alaska’s only diner. The last thing she needs is a man to look after too.

Entertainment lawyer to the stars Ethan Caplan hates his clients. There’s only so much coddling and placating a man can do in a lifetime. He’s finally decided he’s had enough, so he escapes to the tiny no-horse town of Gamble to work on the novel he’s always wanted to write.

Positive that Alaska will be distraction-free, Ethan’s sure he can pen a bestselling legal novel. That is until he lays his eyes on Moira Bishop. Suddenly he finds himself having five meals a day at the diner, just so he can talk to her for a few minutes.

When Moira’s son wins tickets to the Galaxy Studio Theme Park in L.A., Ethan jumps at the chance to play host to the family. He’s sure he can win her over by showing her how glamorous life could be with him. With the help of his friends, he plans the date to end all dates, hoping one incredible night will change her mind about giving love a second chance.
Will Moira open her heart to Ethan? Will Ethan do what it takes to prove that he can be the man Moira and her boys need in their lives? Will little Colton be tall enough to ride the Galactic Mindbender?

Find out in the deliciously fun second installment in the Gamble on Love Momcom series.

Excerpt

“Wyatt, why didn’t you tell me about this fundraiser your baseball team is part of?”

My son spins around on his heels, flinging waffle batter through the air. “I totally forgot! Isn’t it cool? The team that raises the most money gets free tickets to a Dodgers game, and we even get a tour of the dugout!”

“I can see how that’s exciting,” I tell him haltingly. “But according to Coach’s flyer, even if your team sells the most raffle tickets, you’ll still have to pay for your own airfare to Los Angeles and lodging once you get there.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, but how much can that be? Fifty dollars? A hundred? I can totally make that by doing odd jobs around the neighborhood.”

I look down at the sheet. “More like five hundred dollars. Look, I’m not trying to burst your bubble, but I don’t have five hundred dollars to pay for your ticket to California, and even if I did, that wouldn’t be enough because I’m not about to let you go without me.”

“Coach Dalton and his wife are going. I’d be fine.”

He turns around to take his waffle out, when Ash announces, “You’d need two thousand dollars, Mom, because Colton and I would be going, too.”

“You’d stay with Grandpa Jack and Uncle Digger,” Wyatt snarls. 

“No way! If you’re going to California, then so are we!” Colton joins the fray. 

“No one’s going to California,” I tell them. “I’m sorry, Wyatt, but there’s just no way. Not this summer anyway.”

“That’s not fair, Mom,” he pouts, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks just like a tiny, furious version of Everett. Like a knife to my heart, he adds, “Just because you’re poor doesn’t mean we should have to be poor, too.”

All kinds of feelings rush through my nervous system. Anger at Everett for leaving us with no life insurance; anger at myself for not making enough to give my boys the extras; and finally, anger at the kids for not appreciating how hard I work to give them the things I do. I mean, seriously, the baseball uniform and shoes strapped my June budget enough. 

 Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath for a count of five before exhaling. When I’m slightly calmer, I tell the kids, “We aren’t poor. We may not be rich, but we all have clothes on our backs and shoes on our feet, and a roof over our heads.” Such as it is. “Just because I can’t afford to take off work and fly you all to California doesn’t mean you don’t have a good life.” Take that, you little rug rats. 

Ash shrugs. “It’s cool with me. I’m not even sure where California is.”

“I’m good, too.” Colton nods while spooning batter onto the waffle iron. 

“Well, I’m not good!” Wyatt shouts. “I’m going to raise as much money as I can and I’m going! I don’t care if I have to ask Uncle Digger for the money.”

I point my finger in his direction with sharp jabbing motions. “You will not ask Uncle Digger. He’s already giving us a water heater and is painting our kitchen, which believe me, we need a lot more than we need a vacation.”

“Then I’ll ask Aunt Harper,” he threatens. “She’s got loads of money.”

I find myself longing to be a parent in the eighties who could spank freely. “You will do no such thing, young man, and if you go against my orders and ask anyway, I’ll ground you until you’re in high school.” His glare is so menacing, I add, “Don’t cross me, Wyatt. I told you how it’s going to be and that’s it. End of discussion.”

Instead of responding, he storms out of the house, making sure to slam the front door on his way out. I turn to the twins and demand, “Do you two have anything you want to fight with me about? Because, let me warn you, if you do, things will not go your way.”

I’m practically shaking with rage when Colton puts his spatula down and walks toward me. Throwing his arms around my waist, he says, “I love you, Mom. I know you’re doing the best you can.” 

Ash joins in, holding on as tight as his brother. “I love you too, Mom.”

And just like that, I burst into tears again—this is becoming an alarming habit. My seven-year-old sons are comforting me. I’m proud and ashamed all at once. If Everett were still alive, he could have taken Wyatt and I could have stayed home with the twins. We would have had two incomes, so even if we’d had to scrimp a little, we could have done it. 

“What would you think about us selling this house?” I ask them, wiping my eyes.

“Just so Wyatt could go to Los Angeles?” Colton asks, pulling away from me.

“That seems a little extreme, Mom,” Ash says. 

“No, not so Wyatt can go to California.” At this point, even if I had the money, I wouldn’t let him go after that scene he just made. “I was thinking we could move into a smaller house that needs less work. It would free up time for us to do more fun things.”

“I like it here,” Ash says. 

“Me, too,” Colton hurries to add. 

Slumping back into my chair, I say, “Okay.” I’ll leave it for now. After all, Digger and Ethan will be here in a few minutes to paint. Maybe I just need to start seeing some improvements to start liking this house again.

A knock at the front door interrupts my thoughts. I hurry over to answer it, only to see Ethan standing on the other side of the screen. He’s wearing ripped jeans and a gray T-shirt, and he looks far too handsome for my own good. His boyish smile appears as I push the door open for him. 

“Is this where the painting party is happening?”

All sorts of feelings bubble up inside me as I stare at his gorgeous face, not the least of which is a longing to kiss him that nearly knocks me on my butt. Where the heck did that come from? I should only be thinking about how grateful I am that Ethan is helping me out. Not only is he here to paint, but he’s renting a table at the diner. As he steps inside, I get a hint of his aftershave, and I’m back to longing again. Suddenly, I’m afraid my feelings for him are going to become another complication in my life. 

And the last thing I need are more complications. 

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About the Author

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

Connect:
https://whitneydineen.com/
https://twitter.com/whitneydineen
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8145525.Whitney_Dineen
https://www.instagram.com/whitneydineenauthor/
https://www.facebook.com/Whitney-Dineen-Author-11687019412/

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

Spotlight: The Book Haters' Book Club by Gretchen Anthony

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Publication Date: September 13, 2022

Park Row Paperback Original

Filled with humor, family hijinks, and actual reading recommendations, The Book Haters’ Book Club features a messy group of people trying to save their local Indie bookstore -- and who might just save each other along the way. This heartwarming, wildly entertaining novel is both a celebration of found family, and a love letter to booksellers and librarians everywhere.

Elliot, co-owner of Over the Rainbow Bookshop in Minneapolis, started The Book Haters’ Book Club—a newsletter of reading recommendations for the self-proclaimed “nonreader” – because he believed that it only takes the right book to turn a Book Hater into a Book Lover. Now, after they’re all reeling after Elliot’s sudden death, his business partner, Irma, has agreed to sell Over the Rainbow to a developer. When Irma breaks the news to her daughters, and Elliott’s romantic partner, Thom, they are aghast. Especially since Irma won’t explain why she’s so intent on selling.

Irma’s daughters and Thom conspire to save the bookshop. Even if it takes some snooping, gossip and (minor) sabotage, they won’t give up without a fight.

Excerpt

Thom Winslow swept through the glass doors of Vandaveer Investments a titan. “Good afternoon,” he announced to the receptionist, his voice bold, his tenor unwavering. “I’m here for the Over the Rai-iin-bow—” He faltered as the word “rainbow” indiscriminately, and most unpleasantly, stuck to his throat like jelly, leaving him no choice but to clear it with a sickening “HUUCCHH!”

“I’m here for the meeting about the bookstore.” This he said with the voice of a defeated man, aware that his too-narrow shoulders and pigeon neck were rapidly deflating in shame. Damn his rehearsed confidence.

The receptionist barely paid attention, his focus on the tablet attached to his hand. (Was it glued there?) “You’re meeting in the Lake Minnetonka conference room. I’ll escort you.”

Irma Bedford, co-owner of the Over the Rainbow Bookshop with Thom’s recently deceased partner, Elliot, was already inside, waiting. Seeing her, Thom felt a second blow, his vision for today’s meeting all but stomped dead. He’d arrived early to be the first one in the room—he’d read it was a power move—and yet here she was, extending her hand.

“Thom.” She stood when he entered. “They’re running a few minutes behind.”

She was rumpled. He hadn’t expected that. Of the few things  Thom appreciated in Irma, it was her easy chic, a style that never failed to impress—well-ironed jeans, crisp white shirt, flawless foundation and knockout lips. Today they were an unfortunate shade of coral.

“Here.” He plucked a tissue from a box on the side table. “Lipstick. On your tooth.”

She accepted it and turned discreetly to fix herself. There was a stain on her back pocket, the flowering blue swell of ink that would never come out, and before realizing, he said, “I’ll walk behind you when we leave so no one can see that spot on your slacks.” It was a kindness she perhaps did not deserve, and yet he couldn’t help himself.

Irma smiled, gratefully. “Before they come,” she began to say but hadn’t finished before James and Trevor Vandaveer, father and son, walked through the door and started the handshaking and back-patting portion of the afternoon. Trevor, the younger, pulled out chairs for Thom and Irma, as if they were elderly, joints too swollen with arthritis to do it themselves. Or in Thom’s case, enfeebled by a set of useless-looking shoulders.

“Will your daughters be joining you, Irma?” Trevor asked.

“Laney’s flight was delayed.” She nodded toward the glass wall behind him. “But here’s Bree now.”

Bree Bedford exited the elevator, armpits sweating through her shirt, the voice in her head hyperventilating about what a stupid mistake she’d made by not having worn a blazer, as usual failing to avoid even one of the mini disasters that, together, comprised her average day.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” The clock on the wall above the crystal water pitcher that looked too fancy to touch read 2:58 p.m., two minutes early. But the energy in the room said she was embarrassingly late. She slipped silently into a chair next to her mother and pulled her planner from her purse for notes. The clasp snapped loudly, echoing against the room’s hard surfaces. “Sorry. Again.”

She and Trevor Vandaveer had graduated high school together, and twenty years on, he looked just as much the tailored son of privilege as he always had, wearing a suit that probably cost more than she was comfortable thinking about. His father, whose first name she kicked herself for not being able to remember, remained the only one standing. She sensed he spent too much time in the sun—though his cheeks and forehead were shiny and taut as if fresh from the dermatologist, the wrinkles on his hands betrayed his age, all but undoing the medical illusion up top.

“We waiting for more?” he barked.

“Just Laney,” Irma, Bree, and Thom said in unison. Irma added, “She texted me a few minutes ago. She’s on her way from the airport.”

It had been upon learning that Laney was flying in from California that Bree began to feel anxious about what she might learn at this meeting. Their mother had only said, “With Elliot gone, I’ve enlisted an outside firm to help me make some decisions about the Rainbow.” Bree was more or less the bookshop’s assistant manager—it made sense for her to attend. Her sister, Laney, though, never flew in for store matters. In fact, she almost never flew in for personal matters, either. Their mom’s best friend and business partner, Elliot, had died several months ago and Laney hadn’t flown in for his funeral. She hadn’t flown in when their mom’s late-in-life boyfriend, Nestor, passed away unexpectedly last year, and she hadn’t spent a Christmas or Thanksgiving in Minneapolis for as long as Bree could remember. Laney didn’t come home for things, and yet she was coming home for this.

The receptionist opened the door a third time. “Laney Hartwell,” he announced.

Before stepping through, Laney pulled her baseball cap low and made a wish to whatever god, genie, or fairy watching over her that Old Man Vandaveer would keep on talking. The sooner this was over, the better. She was tired. She didn’t need to be here. It was too big of an ask.

“What are you doing over there?” Mr. Vandaveer saw her choose a seat in the corner and, grossly offended, slapped his notes on the table with a violent, outsize thwak!

She rubbed at the back of her neck, her hair at full attention. “I’m trying not to interrupt.”

“Laney.” Her mother tapped the chair beside Bree. “There’s plenty of room right here.”

“It’s a big table,” Old Man Vandaveer barked, a man showing off his territory—big office, big voice, big dude-jewel ring rapping on his big table’s glass top. “Alright, brass tacks.” He returned to his agenda. “Ms. Bedford, on behalf of Over the Rainbow Bookshop, LLC, has entered into a contract for sale of said business with Vandaveer Investments. Per her request, we’ve agreed to brief you all, her stakeholders, on the terms.”

Trevor handed each of them a slick folder adorned with the firm’s green-and-gold logo. Laney accepted hers, placed it unopened on the table, and set her brain free to wander. It was strange, flying in from her grown-up life in Oakland, only to come face-to-face with a kid she’d graduated with, now an adult with a tailored suit and a haircut too slick for his conservative, monochromatic tie.

“Let’s begin with the Terms of Sale,” Trevor said. The words entered the air, floated around the room. Laney didn’t try to catch them.

“‘…will be paid by the Seller in full upon closing in the form of certified check, agreed to by both Buyer and Seller…’”

Bounce. Bounce.

He had a tiny blue dot above his lip. She’d thought it was an ink spot, a rogue pen leaving its mark. But the more she watched, the more she became convinced. Trevor had a perfect dot of a mole above his lip.

“‘—six weeks,’” the mole said. 

“I’m sorry?” Bree’s voice cut through Laney’s foggy thoughts.

“Yes, July 1,” Trevor said. “When Irma signed the Statement of Intent, we agreed to an expedited, six-week timeframe. We’ll sign the final closing documents at the end of the month.”

“But that’s only three weeks from today.” Bree double-checked the date. She was correct. “You sold the shop three weeks ago and you’re just telling us now?” A panicked chill seized her; she didn’t think she could lift her arms. “What about all our customers? What about the neighborhood? We’re the only independent bookstore left in Lyn-Lake.”

“I admit the timeframe is less than ideal.” Her mother did not sound remotely apologetic. “I needed time to get Laney here.”

Bree dug her fingers into the edge of the glass tabletop to keep from crying. Three weeks until her life came to a crashing halt, until the bookshop that had first been her refuge, then family, and then career, ceased to exist. “I don’t understand.” Tears slipped from her chin to the table. “How can you close the Rainbow?”

Irma didn’t respond.

“If you’ll turn to page seventy-nine,” Trevor said, apparently anxious to move the meeting along, “you may understand more after hearing the details.”

“Take a look at the offer price,” his father said. “That oughta dry your boo-hoos.”

Thom pushed the tissue box down the table toward Bree. That Irma was only now telling her daughters of the sale did not surprise him. She was a beauty with fangs, and he’d known from the very beginning it was dangerous to get too close. She and the bookshop had consumed Elliot, and just as a new chapter of their lives was to begin, just as Elliot had agreed to cut back on his work there, to consider retirement, to refocus on his life with Thom, he’d died. In a flash. Gone without warning or goodbyes.

Thom turned to the correct page and looked for the price Irma had received for the beloved Over the Rainbow, aware that no amount of money would ever dull the resentment he’d sharpened for the woman and her bookstore over so many years. Trevor was now spewing gibberish, a tactic meant to blunt the impact of what he could see with his very own eyes: Irma had sold Elliot’s life’s work for practically nothing.

“Oh, Mom,” Bree cried. “Is that all the Rainbow means to you?”

Laney flipped her page, assuming there had to be more on the other side. “So, is this just the first installment or what?”

Thom felt his jaw, followed by stoic resolve, go slack. “Irma,” he hissed.

The woman didn’t flinch. “These are the terms the Vandaveers offered, and I’ve accepted them,” she said, her back an iron rod. “If you have questions, please direct them to our hosts.”

Thom looked at the sale price again, convinced they’d misplaced a comma.

Bree shifted from being quietly tearful to a sobbing soap opera star.

Laney checked her watch.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

GRETCHEN ANTHONY is the author of Evergreen Tidings from the Baumgartners, which was a Midwestern Connections Pick and a best books pick by Amazon, BookBub, PopSugar, and the New York Post. Her work has been featured in The Washington Post, Medium, and The Write Life, among others. She lives in Minneapolis with her family.

Connect:

Author Website 

Twitter: @granthony 

Facebook: Gretchen Anthony

Instagram: @gretchenanthony.writer 

Goodreads

Spotlight: The Girl From Guernica by Karen Robards

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Publication Date: September 6, 2022

Publisher: MIRA

New York Times bestselling author Karen Robards returns with a riveting story of intrigue, deception and bravery in the face of war, inspired by Picasso’s great masterpiece Guernica:

On an April day in 1937, the sky opens and fire rains down upon the small Spanish town of Guernica. Seventeen-year-old Sibi and her family are caught up in the horror. Griff, an American military attaché, pulls Sibi from the wreckage, and it’s only the first time he saves her life in a span of hours. When Germany claims no involvement in the attack, insisting the Spanish Republic was responsible, Griff guides Sibi to lie to Nazi officials. If she or her sisters reveal that they saw planes bearing swastikas, the gestapo will silence them—by any means necessary.  

As war begins to rage across Europe, Sibi joins the underground resistance, secretly exchanging information with Griff. But as the scope of Germany’s ambitions becomes clear, maintaining the facade of a Nazi sympathizer becomes ever more difficult. And as Sibi is drawn deeper into a web of secrets, she must find a way to outwit an enemy that threatens to decimate her family once and for all.  

Masterfully rendered and vividly capturing one of the most notorious episodes in history, The Girl from Guernica is an unforgettable testament to the bonds of family and the courage of women in wartime.

Excerpt

April 25, 1937

To laugh and dance and live in the teeth of whatever tragedies an uncaring fate threw in your path was the Basque way.

The stories Sibi’s mother told, stories handed down through generations of indomitable women, painted those defiant sufferers as heroes.

Sibi feared she was not the stuff of which such heroes were made.

She was hungry. Her feet hurt. And she was afraid. Of those things, afraid was the worst by far. She was so tired of being afraid.

A knot in her stomach. A tightness in her throat. A prickle of unease sliding over her skin. Familiar sensations all, which did not make their sudden onset feel any less dreadful. Sixteen-year-old Sibi—Sibil Francesca Helinger—pushed back a wayward strand of coffee-brown hair that had escaped from the heavy bun coiled at her nape and frowned out into the misty darkness enshrouding the Calle Fernando el Católico. Her 

pulse thrummed as she clung to the desperate hope that she was not seeing what she thought she was. Since the fighting had moved close enough so that the residents of this ancient village high in the western Pyrenees could actually hear gunfire in the surrounding hills, fear had become her all-too-frequent visitor. But this—this was different. This was because of something that was happening now, right before her eyes, in the wide, tree-lined street just beyond where she stood watching the regular weekly celebration on the night before market day.

Have we left it too late? The thought made her mouth go dry.

“I want a sweet.” Five-year-old Margrit’s restless movement beside her reclaimed her attention. Gripping the child’s hand tighter, Sibi cast an impatient glance down.

“There’s no money for a sweet.” Or anything else, Sibi could have added, but didn’t.

“But I want one.” Round blue eyes in a cherubic face surrounded by gold ringlets stared longingly at the squares of honey and almond turrón being hawked to the crowd by a woman bearing a tray of them. The yeasty aroma of the pastry made Sibi’s stomach growl. For the last few weeks, she and her mother had been rationing their diminishing resources by skipping the evening meal so that the younger ones could eat.

“Ask Mama to buy you one later.”

Margrit’s warm little fingers—which Sibi kept a secure hold on because, as angelic as the youngest of the four Helinger sisters looked, she wasn’t—twitched in hers. “She won’t. You know she won’t. She’ll say she doesn’t have any money, either.”

That was undoubtedly true. In fact, Sibi had only said it in hopes of placating her little sister until their mother returned. Thinking fast—Margrit had mostly outgrown tantrums, but not entirely—Sibi was just about to come out with an alternate suggestion when thirteen-year-old Luiza jumped in.

“You know we’re poor now, so stop being such a baby.” Cross because she hadn’t been permitted to go to the cinema 

with a group of her friends, Luiza spoke sharply. The thick, straight, butterscotch blond hair she’d chopped to chin length herself the night before—”Nobody has long hair anymore!” she’d wailed in the face of their mother’s horror—had already lost its grip on the rag curls she’d forced into it. She looked like she was wearing a thatch of broom straw on her head, but Sibi was far too good a sister, and far too preoccupied at the moment, to point that out.

“I don’t like being poor.” Margrit’s lower lip quivered.

“None of us do.”

“I specially don’t like—”

Luiza cut her off. “You’re whining. You know what Mama said about whining.”

“I am not…”

A match flared in the street. Tuning her sisters out, Sibi focused on what the brief incandescence revealed as it rose to light a cigarette—red tip glowing brightly—before arcing like a tiny shooting star to the ground. Sibi looked beyond the cigarette to the dark shape behind it. The dark shapes behind it. She wasn’t mistaken. Soldiers—their soldiers, the loyalist Republicans, their uniforms unmistakable—poured into the street from seemingly everywhere. And the numbers were increasing…

Her heartbeat quickened. Does no one else see?

Biting down on her lower lip, she glanced around. The crowd clapped and swayed to the rollicking music of the highly prized town band and ate and danced and played games and— She concluded that no one else did. The village leaders who were present appeared unaware: Father Esteban talked to the woman behind the refreshment table as she ladled out a bowl of spicy fish soup for him; His Honor the mayor played mus, the popular card game, with three friends; the Count of Arana, the town’s most prominent citizen, stood with his arms crossed and a stern gaze fixed on his fifteen-year-old daughter, Teresa, 

as she walked away from him with her hand tucked into the arm of… Emilio Aguire.

Sibi’s stomach gave an odd little flutter.

Watching them reminded her of just how much of an outsider she was here in this quaint small town with its red-roofed white houses and narrow cobbled streets. Emilio was her age, he was the handsomest boy in school and he had been kind to her. She had hoped… But no. To hope for anything where he was concerned was foolishness. She and her mother and sisters were only temporary residents. She worked as a part-time waitress and her mother had worked in a dress shop before being fired three weeks ago, when the shop owner’s husband had displayed too much interest in her. And that, of course, had immediately become a topic for much discussion among the town gossips whose gleeful suspicions that the former Marina Diaitz, now Helinger, who had come home with her children but without her husband, was a floozy were thus seemingly confirmed. All those factors combined to put them near the bottom of the social ladder in this place where the wealthy local aristocracy had been comfortably in place for generations, and they, with their German father, would have been outsiders, anyway. And Teresa was beautiful and rich and— Well, there it was, foolishness.

She had no time for foolishness.

Glancing at those in her own party—Luiza and Margrit, and their other sister Johanna, all bunched close around her, and their mother, Marina, dancing merrily with the baker Antonio Batzar beneath the colored lights strung above the makeshift dance floor in hopes of securing a scarce loaf of tomorrow morning’s fresh bread—Sibi felt her heartbeat quicken.

Intent on their own concerns, they appeared oblivious to anything else. As usual it was up to her, notorious as the family worrier, to think about what might happen, to catch and make sense of what the rest of them missed.

Tonight, it was that their soldiers, their last line of defense against the surging rebel Nationalists, appeared to be coming together en masse to slink like starving cats past the Sunday night festivities.

These were the same war-weary, battle-scarred troops that had been camped out in the forested peaks surrounding the town since they had fallen back after the savage attack on the neighboring village of Durango that had brought the nine-month-old civil war as close as its ancient churches and rambling streets. In the days since, thousands of panicking refugees had flooded the town. The warships of Generalissimo Francisco Franco, commander in chief of the rebel forces, had blockaded the Basque ports. Food had become scarce: along with bread, milk and meat were almost impossible to obtain. People were hungry, frightened. The war that had been safely on the other side of the country had changed direction so fast that the residents of these sleepy villages high above the Bay of Biscay had been caught unprepared. But unprepared or not, in a new and terrifying offensive the newspapers were calling the War of the North, the fighting was now rushing like a wave toward their front door.

The soldiers were all that stood between them and the enemy forces determined to destroy them. And the soldiers were leaving.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Karen Robards is the New York Times, USA TODAY and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of fifty novels and one novella. She is the winner of six Silver Pen awards and numerous other awards.

Connect:

Author Website: http://karenrobards.com/

TWITTER: @TheKarenRobards

FB: @AuthorKarenRobards

Goodreads: 

Spotlight: Doctor of the Heart by Grace Maxwell

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Release Date: September 9

He’s a billionaire doctor with a supportive family. I’m an artist who can’t keep a day-job while taking care of my little sister. We’re opposites in every way.

My BFF and I are going out to meet men. Lots of men

!I’ve been focused on other more important things, but when my best friend insists we do something fun, I give in. It’s been a long time. Did I mention I even needed to dust off my Jimmy Choo’s?

His chocolate brown hair and piercing dark eyes find me in line outside the club, and my stomach does cartwheels. Yes, he puts the yum in yummy.

It gets us in and when we connect, it’s fireworks—my heart beats triple time, and I’m doing something I never dreamed was in my DNA.

It was only a onetime thing. I knew we weren’t star-crossed lovers. We were quick, down, and dirty.

Then it was back to real life—bills, keeping a roof over our head and food on the table, all while dealing with my sister’s chronic illness.

When my sister takes a turn for the worst, we head to the emergency room and my jaw drops and not because the doctor is dressed in a tuxedo. It’s because it is him.We are opposites in every way. Dr. Davis Martin saves my sister’s life and somehow he’s out to save mine.

Doctor of the Heart is a stand-alone, steamy romance with a happy ending. It is the first in the Men of Mercy series.

Buy on Amazon

Available in KU 

Meet Grace Maxwell:

Grace Maxwell writes saucy, fast pace contemporary romance. She like her drinks sweet, her music loud, and her books steamy. When she’s not reading, writing, or sleeping, she is a chauffeur, Sherpa, and lives on all forms of caffeine and carbohydrates as she moves her children around.

Connect with Grace Maxwell:

www.gracemaxwellauthor.com

Spotlight: The Messy Truth About Love by C. L. Walters

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Publication date: September 6th 2022
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance

HANNAH

A fresh start is exactly what Hannah Fleming needs after getting dumped by her cheating ex-boyfriend. While getting rejected was awful, nine weeks removed she’s recognizing the benefits, seeing that relationship for what it was: unhealthy. Then, Hannah bumps into her high school crush, Seth Peters, and is offered a second chance to see if what was in the past can once again be magical in the present. But when her past threatens her second chance, she must determine how hard she’s willing to fight for her future.

SETH

A fresh start is exactly what Seth Peters needs. New place. New people. New opportunities. Except, he runs straight into one of the greatest unresolved moments of his past, Hannah Fleming. Suddenly life is offering a second chance with her, but can he hold onto all he’s learned over the last few years to make a future with Hannah work? Or will he backslide into old ways of being to hide the truth of his darker past?

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

As a kid, CL Walters, world revolved around two things: stories and make believe. She's built a real life around those two things: a teacher of stories and a writer of make believe.

With four books now published, she's looking forward to her fifth release October 13, 2020, a YA Contemporary Romance called The Stories Stars Tell.

Sign up for her newsletter for news, goodies, and fun (www.clwalters.net)

Connect:

https://www.clwalters.net/

https://www.instagram.com/cl.walters

https://twitter.com/peeledandcored

https://www.facebook.com/clwaltersofficial

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/c-l-walters

https://www.pinterest.ca/clwalters2015/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15458999.C_L_Walters

Spotlight: Just Like Family by Barbara Casey

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Publication date: July 28th 2022
Genres: Adult, Romance

All in one day, thirty-five-year-old Hallie Marsh learns that the man she loves, works for, and is living with has found someone else-and that she no longer has a job, a place to live, or a car since she crashed it into a hedge. Her feelings of rage and desire for revenge are soon replaced by a fascination with her new neighbors-four peculiar, elderly people who decide to buy an old run-down estate, fix it up, and live in it “just like family.”

Excerpt

Hallie’s heart raced as she walked briskly past the other offices to the executive suite at the end of the corridor.  Since Jeff had sent word asking to see her, it must mean that he was finally finished with that project he had been working on day and night for the past several weeks and that he needed her as much as she needed him.  She knew his divorce had just been finalized, although he hadn’t told her yet.  She had called the courthouse downtown and found out on her own.  He was probably just waiting for the right time to tell her.  Over a romantic dinner at one of their favorite places.  Or maybe he would take her somewhere for the weekend.  He enjoyed surprising her.  And there was the awards banquet tonight.  He hadn’t mentioned that to her either, but naturally he would want her to go with him.  In real estate circles, it was the event of the year.  Even though it was supposed to be a secret, everyone knew that Jeff was getting the Salesman of the Year Award again.  So much to celebrate and what better way than to make love in his office now.

“Mr. Darnell is expecting you, Ms. Marsh.”

Hallie smiled at the secretary, hoping that her demeanor was that of a public relations director going into a meeting with the president of the company and not of a woman who was going to make love to her boss in his office at four o’clock in the afternoon.  “Thanks, Mary,” she said shifting her notebook in an exaggerated movement from one hand to the other, feeling slightly self-conscious.  She suppressed the urge to giggle, something she frequently did whenever she felt self-conscious, and walked past the secretary’s desk.  On the other side of the ornate double doors was Jeff’s office, a large multi-functional room that had both a southern and eastern exposure.

Jeff was standing with his back to her, looking out one of two mullioned, floor-to-ceiling windows, the one facing the intracoastal waterway.  Hallie quietly closed the door and locked it.  The desire she felt for him was tremendous and had somehow managed to gravitate to an area the size of a baseball between her naval and vulva.  Without saying anything she unbuttoned her navy blue coatdress, silently applauding the fact that she had decided to wear it today since it was so easy to take off.  Then she walked up behind him, slipped her arms around his waist, and pressed her body into his back.  “You can’t imagine how much I have missed you,” she whispered when he turned around.  She eagerly sought his lips as she loosened his tie and began unfastening the buttons on his shirt, completely forgetting the self-consciousness she had experienced moments earlier.  He did that to her.  Things she wouldn’t normally do under any other circumstances, she felt no inhibitions in doing with Jeff.

“Hallie, I need to tell you something.”  Jeff held her trembling hands in his but she continued with the buttons, stopping only when she reached the buckle on his belt.  She pulled his shirt loose from his trousers and opened it, exposing his bare chest.  Then she tenderly kissed his neck, working her way down his chest and stomach with her mouth and tongue.

“Hallie, please.  Stop.  We have to talk.”

Hallie looked up into Jeff’s face, breathless and flushed with desire.  Curiously at that moment she remembered seeing somewhere in a magazine two similar photographs side by side, the caption under one of them reading, “What’s wrong with this picture?”

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About the Author

Barbara Casey is the author of several award-winning novels for both adults and young adults, and numerous articles, poems, and short stories. In addition to her own writing, she is an editorial consultant and president of the Barbara Casey Agency, established in 1995, representing authors throughout the United States, Great Britain, Canada, and Japan. In 2014 Barbara became a partner in Strategic Media Books Publishing, an independent publishing house that specializes in true crime and other cutting-edge adult nonfiction. Barbara lives on a mountain in Georgia with her three cats who adopted her.

Connect

http://www.barbaracaseyagency.com/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/697572.Barbara_Casey