Spotlight: Casanova Cowboy by Jamie Schulz

(The Montana Men Series, #2)

Publication date: June 6th 2023

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

She’s used to the glitzy, big-city life. He hides behind country-boy charm.

Will these total opposites spark unquenchable flames of attraction?

Izabel Silva is wary of men. After escaping an awful relationship and a workplace betrayal, the talented marketer seeks refuge with an old friend in small-town Montana. And though worried she’s falling in with another control-obsessed hunk, she accepts the kindly neighbors’ invitation to stay with them and their flirtatious son.

Zack MacEntier longs to live down his reputation. With his ranch’s bank accounts at rock bottom, the one-time lady’s man isn’t ready to take on a gorgeous and strong-willed Latina. But when his mother volunteers him to show the lovely newcomer around, the loyal cowboy is secretly glad of an excuse to spend more days in the fierce woman’s company.

Taken aback by local prejudice, Izabel’s concerns over Zack’s stubborn protective streak start to fade when he comes rushing to her rescue. And even as the brave rancher fears that he has nothing to offer the beautiful outsider, their growing passion has placed them firmly in danger’s crosshairs…

Can they survive the unexpected threat and claim a scorching love?

Casanova Cowboy is the steamy second book in the Montana Men romantic suspense series. If you like determined women, heroes with hidden depths, and slow-burn chemistry, then you’ll adore Jamie Schulz’s fiery path to happily ever after.

Buy Casanova Cowboy to flirt with trouble today!

* No cliffhangers. Though the stories intertwine in places, each book is a standalone suspenseful, western romance with adult content. The perfect read for fans of strong heroines, broken heroes, cowboys, horses, slow-burning love, and small-town romance!

Excerpt

Her mind filled with thoughts, and scents, and images of this man, of Zack. She welcomed the hungry nature of his kiss and the hard strength of his body, and she wanted more.

Without breaking the kiss, she slid her hands down his chisel chest and tugged at the navy material of his T-shirt until it came free from the waistband of his jeans. Greedily, she slipped one hand inside and she groaned at the hard heat that flexed beneath her fingers. Needing to touch him, to see him, Izabel sat back and jerk the rest of his shirt from his jeans. Frantically, she pulled and pushed it upward until Zack lifted his arms and allowed her to haul the shirt over his head.

She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. The masculine beauty she’d unveiled sucked it all from her chest as her eyes took in every work-hardened crest and valley of his well-built body. The breadth of his shoulders, the thick layers of muscle that made them and his brawny arms bulge and flex when he moved. The perfect plane of his pecs and the ridges of his belly. Her nails rasped over the dusting of dark, curling hair on his chest, her fingers following its path as it narrowed into a line that disappeared under his jeans.

“Izabel?”

She looked up, startled by the strangled sound of his voice. His cheeks were flushed as his breath heaved in through parted lips, and his soulful whiskey eyes were hooded and full of passion as he stared back at her.

“You are gorgeous, Zack.”

He smiled, but when she swiveled and got to her feet, apprehension filled his face. “What are you doing?”

Reaching for the closure of her jeans, her mouth curled suggestively as she popped the button and slowly lowered the zipper.

Zack’s lips tipped up at the corners and appreciation washed over his expression.

Once she’d shed the jeans, Izabel crawled back onto his lap, but straddled his legs this time.

“Did you think I was going to leave?” she asked, flicking her nails over his nipples. Her grin grew when he sucked in a breath and his eyelids closed briefly. When they opened, he cupped her butt cheeks in each of his huge hands and drew her against the large bulge in his jeans.

“I thought so, yes.” He ducked his head and his lips found her neck. “I thought you might leave me with this,” he said as he lifted his hips and pressed himself against her core.

She moaned as he nibbled the tender column of her throat, drawing gasps of pleasure from her. When he found a sensitive spot at the base of her neck, a sharp pang of desire shot through her belly. Lust electrified her, zapping along nerve endings and driving her need for him...for Zack.

“What do you want, Izabel?” His voice sounded rough against her skin. “Tell me what you need.”

“You, Zack. I need you,” she gasped. “I want to see you. I want to feel your skin on mine. I want you to make love to me. Right now!” She reached for her blouse and quickly unbuttoned the first two buttons, but frustrated with how long it took, she reached down and yanked it over her head.

Zack’s passion-filled eyes had followed her movement, but now she sat back and watched as his gaze devoured her. From the disarray of her curly hair to her small breasts and down to the plain white bikini underwear she wore, he soaked it all in as his chest rose with each rapid breath. Slowly, almost reverently, he traced the gentle swell of her breasts above the lace edge of her bra with his fingertips. The touch sent a shiver through her body as need pulsed hot and wet between her thighs.

“Oh, God, Zack,” she cried, the ache from his simple touch so acute, she had to grip his shoulders to keep from tumbling to the ground. Her head dropped back onto her neck and she sighed. “What you do to me...”

“Tell me, goddess,” he said with a throaty growl as his hands bracketed her face and pulled her in for another soul-melting kiss.

“You’ve lit a fire inside me,” she said when he let her up for air. “You give me strength when I feel week. You make me feel strong and beautiful and wanted. You make me want...more.”

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Jamie Schulz lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her family, her husband, and their fur babies. Writing has always been a big a part of her life, and she hopes to one day reach the best sellers lists.

Cowboys, ice cream, and reading almost any kind of romance are among her (not so) secret loves. To her, every one of her stories, no matter how dark, must have a happy ending, and she strives to make them impossible to put down until you get there.

She balances her free time between reading her favorite romance authors--in genres ranging from erotica and dark romance to sweet historicals and contemporary romance--and spending time with her family.

Connect:

http://www.jamieschulzauthor.com/

https://www.facebook.com/jamieschulzauthor/

https://www.instagram.com/thejamieschulz/

https://twitter.com/TheJamieSchulz

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jamie-schulz

https://www.amazon.com/Jamie-Schulz/e/B07K7X6JV5/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18580547.Jamie_Schulz

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Spotlight: Retribution: A Koa Kāne Hawaiian Mystery by Robert McCaw

As people around him come under attack, Chief Detective Koa Kāne wonders if he might be the real target.

In the back alley of a bar on Hawaii Island, a young man is found stabbed to death. When Hilo Chief Detective Koa Kāne begins investigating the crime, the murder weapon is recovered only a few feet away from the body. Crime scene technicians find fingerprints on the knife­­­­­­­­—they are a perfect match for Koa’s younger brother, Ikaika.

As the brothers scramble to prove Ikaika’s innocence, another crime sends shockwaves through the Hilo police force. A sniper tries to take out Makanui, Koa’s closest colleague. As Koa tries to figure out whether these crimes are linked, the sinister force continues their killing spree, threatening Koa and his loved ones at every turn.

Could Koa be the real target? If so, who is behind this trail of retribution? With his own secret criminal past, Koa confronts an all-out offensive against those closest to him and his police force to which he has devoted his life. As the bodies pile up, Koa finds himself the ultimate target of a ruthless adversary and must risk it all to survive.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Robert McCaw grew up in a military family, traveling the world. He graduated from Georgetown University, served as a U.S. Army lieutenant, and earned a law degree from the University of Virginia. Having lived on the Big Island of Hawaii, McCaw’s s writing is imbued by his more than a 20-year love affair with this Pacific paradise. He lives with his wife, Calli, and they split their time between New York City and San Diego. https://robertbmccaw.com

Cover Reveal: Rebels & Romantics by Jeanmarie Anaya

Release Date: July 1

Netflix's Outerbanks meets Southern California’s skateboarding scene in a YA contemporary romance about love, hope, and carving your path.

Vista Buscato has palm trees, but that doesn’t mean it’s paradise.

Skateboards and the punks who ride them aren’t welcome. Gutsy eighteen-year-old Effie Fox dreams of packing up her skateboard and busting out of uptight Vista Buscato after high school with her breakout partner and lifelong crush, Matty. But suddenly Matty’s flooded with thoughts of Celeste, a sweet and mysterious beauty who’s everything Effie is not.

It turns out Celeste is far from perfect, with a load of secrets and an ever-changing identity. Soon, Effie pulls off a simple, well-timed trick to get rid of the girl forever. But Matty’s heart crumbles way worse than she expected. As their friends ignite a revolution fighting for space in a town where they don’t fit in, new possibilities spin Effie in a different direction, away from Matty. She’s torn to pieces wondering what it means to really care about someone or something, and if it’s braver to stay and fight or just split.

Buy on Amazon

Jeanmarie Anaya writes contemporary romance novels about teens and twenty-somethings. She loves food, wine, the beach, and preferably all three of those things at the same time. She grew up in a small beach town, which means she owns more flip flops than actual shoes. After many years drafting contracts as a lawyer, she finally followed her heart and her keyboard down the path of novel-writing.

Jeanmarie’s stories are full of romance, falling in love, longing, love triangles,

heartbreak, tons of (mostly unnecessary) drama, and the beautiful ache of first

love.

She lives in New York with her husband and three daughters.

Check out more book news from Jeanmarie and subscribe to her newsletter at her

website: www.jeanmariewrites.com. You can also hang with Jeanmarie on Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok:

@jeanmariewrites

Connect with Jeanmarie Anaya:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100089758445264

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

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@jeanmariewrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/29924874.Jeanmarie_Anaya

Website: http://www.jeanmariewrites.com

Spotlight: The Little Italian Hotel by Phaedra Patrick

On Sale June 6, 2023

Park Row Books

When a relationship expert’s own marriage falls apart, she invites four strangers to Italy for a vacation of healing and second chances in this uplifting new novel from the author of The Messy Lives of Book People.

Ginny Splinter, acclaimed radio host and advice expert, prides herself on knowing what’s best for others. So she’s sure her husband, Adrian, will love the special trip to Italy she’s planned for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. But when Ginny presents the gift to Adrian, he surprises her with his own very different plan—a divorce.

Beside herself with heartache, Ginny impulsively invites four heartbroken listeners to join her in Italy instead while live on air. From hiking the hills of Bologna to riding a gondola in Venice to sharing stories around the dining table of the little Italian hotel, Ginny and her newfound company embark on a vacation of healing.

However, when Adrian starts to rethink their relationship, Ginny must decide whether to commit to her marriage or start afresh, alone. And an unexpected stranger may hold the key to a very different future… Sunny, tender and brimming with charm, The Little Italian Hotel explores marriage, identity and reclaiming the present moment—even if it means leaving the past behind.

Excerpt

Mountains

“Hi, it’s Ginny Splinter, I’m listening. Tell me your worries…”

It was something she said so many times a day on her Just Ask Ginny radio show it had become second nature, like sprinkling sunflower seeds on her muesli or kissing her husband, Adrian, on the cheek before he left for work each morning.

Ginny arrived early at the Talk Heart FM studio that day to pass a financial planning article to a security guard who’d confided to her he was struggling to pay his rent. She stopped to chat to the young receptionist whose boyfriend wouldn’t commit to anything more serious between them.

“You shouldn’t rely on him for your own self-esteem. Never forget you’re a prize worth winning,” Ginny told her with a kind smile. “Come talk to me anytime.”

The receptionist wiped a tear from her eye. “Do you really mean that?” 

“A promise is a promise. Stay strong, sweetheart.” 

Ginny walked away with a glow in her chest, touched when others trusted her with their personal issues. She wasn’t one to toot her own horn, but when her friends wept into their chardonnay, she was the one they turned to for good advice and packets of tissues. Where others saw paths littered with broken glass, she chose to picture the sun rising over the mountains. It was probably why thousands of folk from Greenham, Ginny’s leafy northwest England hometown, tuned in to her daily advice show.

Throughout her fifteen years on the air, there wasn’t a problem Ginny hadn’t tried to fix, whether it was loneliness, retirement worries, body dysmorphia, noisy neighbors or bullying at work. She offered solutions for the lost loves, secret loves and the never-been-in-loves. Empathy was her superpower.

Other people’s issues made her appreciate her happy marriage all the more. Her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary was just around the corner and she couldn’t wait to celebrate it in style. Whenever Ginny thought about the surprise holiday she’d booked for her and Adrian, in Italy, she couldn’t help smiling. Next month, in June, they were going to be staying in a gorgeous little village, Vigornuovo in Bologna, for three whole weeks. It would also be the perfect opportunity to renew their wedding vows, to reaffirm their love and commitment to each other and to have some fun, too.

The thought of spending quality time alone with her husband made a rush of warmth flood her skin. Ginny couldn’t wait to wander the side streets of Venice at dusk and admire Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. More than anything, she wanted to reignite the spark in her marriage. She and Adrian had been so busy recently that they were like cars speeding along a motorway in opposite directions. It made her feel uncharacteristically listless, especially now that their daughter, twenty-four-year-old Phoebe, had left home to move in with her fiancé, Pete, and was busy arranging her own wedding.

Ginny usually advised fellow empty nesters to keep busy by taking up a new hobby, perhaps home baking or walking a neighbor’s dog, but she was struggling to practice what she preached. Her hormones had felt out of balance for some time and sticking HRT patches to her backside, to banish her hot flashes, hadn’t proved to be the wonder cure she’d hoped for.

Last week, she’d had a worrying urge to rip open her blouse on the high street and flash her lacy bra to passersby. “See, I’m here, still desirable, not invisible!” she’d wanted to shout. But really, she wanted her husband to make her feel that way. The Italian holiday was going to be the perfect solution.

When she stepped into the elevator at work, Ginny was faced with a new life-sized poster of herself. She had an auburn high ponytail with a trademark curl at the end, and was wearing a pastel blue skirt suit with animal print heels. Her face had been airbrushed, removing every wrinkle, and she’d been given a golden halo and wings.

Ginny Splinter, Advice Angel, said the tagline.

Ginny pursed her lips. She didn’t like that her lines had been erased. She’d earned them over forty-nine years of life experience, like gathering stamps in a passport.

In the office, she waved at her latest producer, Tam. There was a conveyor belt of young graduates keen to join Talk Heart FM, using it as a training ground before migrating to bigger and better roles elsewhere. Tam was the latest recruit. She buzzed with ideas and her oversized black-rimmed glasses screamed ambition.

Tam propelled her chair across the office at great speed while sitting in it. “Gin, babe,” she said, tapping a pen against her teeth. “Thought we’d shake things up today and take some live calls, if you’re up for it?”

Ginny sat down at her desk and frowned. “Are you sure that’s sensible? We’ve got time to run through the show and handpick a few problems. It gives me time to digest them and give my best advice.”

Her mind flicked back to a live call during which a woman had set fire to her husband’s clothes after discovering his affair. Fortunately, he’d not been wearing them at the time. Afterward, Ginny had fielded lots of calls from concerned listeners and had to assure them everything was okay. Since then, all her producers preferred to pre-record conversations.

Tam drummed her fingers on the table. “Come on, Gin. Today’s lead news story is about a herd of sheep escaping into Greenham town center.” She fanned a yawn with her hand. “You must be bored of the same old format, too. We don’t want Just Ask Ginny to become the missionary position of advice shows.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. She knew her audience well. “Playing some great music, reading out listeners’ letters and giving them advice on air, plus a few pre-recorded interviews is a proven formula,” she said. “And the new poster makes me look like someone off Love Island.”

Tam slow-blinked and tapped her teeth again. “Hmm…” she said, looking Ginny up and down critically. “Not sure about that.”

Ginny was increasingly aware she was now twice the age of her colleagues. It felt unbelievable, laughable even, that she and Adrian would both turn fifty later that year. She always told callers that age was just a number, but she was finding the milestone confusing. One minute, she treated herself to a new pair of sparkly stilettoes, and the next she found herself reading reviews for thermal nightdresses. She bought pretty lingerie and vitamins to improve her energy levels. She was far from being old, but her youth sometimes seemed like a distant memory.

“I’ve made my decision.” Tam pointed her pen at Ginny’s chest like a pistol. “Let’s go for the live calls.”

Ginny tried not to growl.

A few minutes later, she went live on air, playing songs by Ed Sheeran, Adele and Coldplay, slotting in a couple of her own choices by Red Hot Chili Peppers and The Strokes.

Many of the callers seeking advice used a pseudonym and sometimes even affected a fake voice. Ginny nervously gnawed the inside of her cheek as she took a live call from Confused of Greenham. The woman didn’t know whether to enter a third marriage with a kind, generous man she didn’t love, or to pursue a fling with a younger pizza delivery guy.

“Picture yourself five years from now,” Ginny said. “You’re lying on your sofa, wrapped in a blanket with a dose of the flu. A hand gently sweeps the hair off your clammy forehead. You open your eyes and see someone holding out a cup of hot tea and some aspirin for you. Is it your fiancé or the pizza guy?”

“My fiancé, I suppose,” Confused said.

“Then there’s your answer. You can get pizza anytime from any place. Care and understanding are more difficult to come by.”

Ginny wrapped up the call and Tam’s weary voice came through her headphones. “Try making the next call sexier, Gin,” she said. “We don’t want listeners nodding off.”

“I’m here to help, not titillate,” Ginny said through gritted teeth. She ran a hand down her ponytail and picked up a call from the next person on the line. “Hello, it’s Ginny Splinter, I’m listening. Tell me your worries.”

The woman’s voice sounded shaky. “Oh, hello. It’s Miss…Peach.”

“Well, hi there, Miss Peach. Thanks for joining me today,” Ginny said. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”

The caller’s words stuttered out. “I only stayed with my husband for the sake of our child. You make a promise and then you’re stuck with it, for life. I wish I’d got out while I had the chance… I’ve wasted so much precious time and now I don’t know what to do.”

A familiar ache of compassion rose in Ginny’s chest. It was something she welcomed but had also learned to control, so other people’s problems didn’t affect her too deeply. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she soothed. “It sounds like you’ve been through a tough time. There’s nothing you can do to change the past, but you can take control of your future.”

“What if it’s too late for that?”

“It’s never too late to move on. Focus on yourself and consider what you really want from life—”

“And what if I don’t know?” Miss Peach snapped. “What if I’ve forgotten how to think about me?”

Ginny hmm’d and delivered a sympathetic pause while considering what advice to give her caller. People often just needed a gentle push in the right direction. “Why not make a list of all the things you enjoy, perhaps a walk in the country or a trip to the cinema. Try to get to know yourself again and—”

“As if that will work,” Miss Peach interrupted, her tone growing more brittle. “And what do you know anyway? You think you’re little Ms. Perfect, don’t you?”

Ginny’s scalp prickled and her mouth dried. Her uneasy sensation made the room tilt a little. She waved a hand, trying to get Tam’s attention through the glass partition, but the producer was busy scrolling on her phone. “This call is about you, not me,” she told Miss Peach. “Please don’t let your regrets eat you up.”

“I’ve seen photos of you and your husband in a magazine. Adrian, isn’t it? You think you have such a marvelous life together.”

Ginny’s heartbeat began to thump ominously in her ears. A few thousand people would be listening in to this conversation. Oh, god, she hoped Adrian or Phoebe weren’t tuning in. Organizing a wedding was stressful enough for her daughter without this. Ginny drew a finger across her neck, indicating to Tam she was thinking of cutting the caller off.

Her producer didn’t notice.

“Shouldn’t you address your own problems before you lecture other people?” Miss Peach continued. “Do you even know what your husband gets up to at work? How well do you really know him?”

Ginny hesitated and rubbed the double lines between her eyebrows. Of course she knew Adrian, from the way the moles on his back formed a diamond shape, to how he liked his toast served warm, not hot, and with butter spread right to the edges. He didn’t like the bedroom to be stuffy so he slept with the window ajar, even if it meant Ginny had to wear socks in bed during winter. He thought Porsches were works of art but would feel like a cliché owning one. He could be grumpy until his morning coffee kicked in and he enjoyed a nice glass of Rioja most evenings. He loved dogs, hated cats, liked dark chocolate but never white and sang Oasis songs while he shaved.

Nevertheless, something icy seemed to slither down her spine. “Miss Peach, what do you mean by—?” Ginny started.

“Ask him,” Miss Peach said.

“Ask him what?”

But there was a click and the line went dead.

Excerpted from The Little Italian Hotel. Copyright © 2023 by Phaedra Patrick. Published by Park Row Books, an imprint of HarperCollins.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Phaedra Patrick is the bestselling author of several novels, including The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper, which has been translated into twenty-five languages worldwide. Her second novel, Rise and Shine Benedict Stone, was made into a Hallmark movie. An award-winning short story writer, she previously studied art and marketing and has worked as a stained glass artist, film festival organizer and communications manager. Phaedra lives in Saddleworth, UK, with her family.

Connect:

Author Website: https://www.phaedra-patrick.com/ 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/phaedrapatrick 

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

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14203653.Phaedra_Patrick 

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

Spotlight: Starring Adele Astaire by Eliza Knight

A spirited rising stage star…

Adele Astaire was a glittering, glamorous star, dancing with her brother, Fred, endearing herself to audiences from New York to London. But although she is toasted by royalty and beloved by countless fans, Adele Astaire has dreams of a loving husband and a houseful of children. And when she meets Lord Charles Cavendish, her wishes may just come true—but at what cost?

 A determined young dancer …

Ever since Violet Wood could walk she’s wanted to dance on the London stage. Befriended by Adele, filled with ambition, she is more than willing to make the sacrifices it will take to become a star herself, and her rags-to-riches hopes are within reach. But the road to fame is never easy.

Two women with unquenchable spirit …

From the fast-paced world of roaring 20s New York to the horrors and sacrifice of wartime London, Adele's and Violet’s lives intertwine, and each must ask themselves is fame worth the price you must pay?

Excerpt

The colossal steamship Aquitania loomed at the pier, its four great red-and-black stacks puffing clouds of grayishwhite smoke. My breath mirrored those hazy swirls, and I tucked my fur stole around my neck. The ocean liner was massive, its many decks lined with hundreds of windows and portholes. A floating skyscraper, if there were such a thing.

I wondered, as I stared at the streamlined floating tank—all the layers on top of one another and each strata representing something different—where did I, mentally, fit in? With the glitz and glam of first class, the hopes and dreams of the passengers in second, or the raw determination of those lost in third? The control and precision of the captain’s deck or the chaos of the laborers shoveling coal deep in the bowels? All stacked neatly and looking cohesive from the outside. Perhaps I belonged on the promenade, hurrying around the perimeter until called to enter one of the levels. From my personal attempts to balance ambition with insecurity, glamour with grit, I knew that nothing was ever as perfectly put together as it seemed.

I caught my brother, Freddie, watching me curiously, his hazel eyes a lighter shade than my dark brown. I was taller than he when we were kids, but somehow he’d soared past me, leaving me at a few inches over five feet. My little brother had become my big brother. Our mother, Ann, held his arm, the bow on the side of her green cloche hat fluttering in the wind, a slight smile on her still-young face. Which layer of the ship were they—control, chaos, hope, determination? 

“Would you look at that, Delly?” Freddie used my nickname, a play on Adele, then glanced back at the steamship in awe. “Our whole future before us.” 

Our whole future—success or failure. Ever since we were kids, we’d boarded trains, traversing America on the vaudeville circuit, and then spent the past six years on Broadway. Neither one of us had ever set foot on a ship. This trip represented a major shift in our show-business careers—a debut on the London stage. A chance to show the world that we were rising stars. After nearly two decades of dancing, singing, and acting together, we were at last bursting onto a scene that we’d been clamoring for, with all the glamour and influence it brought.

Hopes and dreams. 

But I couldn’t help asking myself—did I want it? I’d been working since I was eight years old. The sacrifices I’d made to get here—friendship, romance, rest from my constant exhaustion, a life—how much longer was I willing to put up with days that consisted only of rehearse-perform-sleep, on constant repeat? I didn’t ask for this . . . 

“Everyone keeps calling it the ‘Ship Beautiful,’ but I don’t see it,” I teased. “It’s a massive hunk of black-and-white metal.”

I was nervous as hell about trudging up that gangway and onto a miraculously floating liner that looked heavy enough to sink. I tucked a loose dark tendril beneath my camel cloche hat and prayed our ship didn’t run into an iceberg like the Titanic had on its maiden voyage eleven years ago. The Aquitania had been built to emulate the Titanic in luxury and comfort, but at least this vessel was outfitted with enough lifeboats, should we run into similar trouble. 

We weren’t the first in our family to set sail. Four years before I was born, Pop—now stuck back in Omaha—had made the trip from Austria to Ellis Island, leaving his parents and siblings behind. If he could survive a trans-Atlantic voyage, then I supposed we could, too. After all, we were living his dream a generation later. Making it big on stage, something he’d wanted to do himself.

Determination. Lost. 

I think my fear of drowning now was more figurative than literal. For the first eight years of my life, I was Adele Austerlitz of Omaha. Daughter of Fritz—an immigrant, Catholic convert of Jewish Austrian descent—and Johanna—a first-generation American Prussian. I was sister to Freddie from the time I was three. Then, suddenly, I was Adele Astaire from New York City. A name that was less Austrian, less controversial. A name for a star.

I’d been Adele Astaire for so long, I didn’t even know who Adele Austerlitz was anymore, or whom she might have become. Sometimes I wanted to know. The rest of the time, I brushed it off. After all, the show must go on.

Buy on Amazon | Audible | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling author. Her love of history began as a young girl when she traipsed the halls of Versailles. She is a member of the Historical Novel Society and Novelists, Inc., and the creator of the popular historical blog, History Undressed. Knight lives in Maryland with her husband, three daughters, two dogs and a turtle.

Spotlight: It Had to be You by Tracy Solheim

Publication date: June 5th 2023

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

It’s hard to keep a big secret in a small town . . .

When Paige Hollister discovers her “Mr. Right” already has a “Mrs. Right,” she swears off men forever. Even more humiliating, she suddenly finds herself labeled the other woman and out of the teaching job she loves. So Paige does what every unemployed single woman staring thirty in the face does: She hightails it to the beach. Bad luck like hers is hard to outrun, however. Her getaway is stalled when her car breaks down in a small-town chock full of meddling, nosy residents. The worst of them being the local sheriff—none other than her estranged father.

Finally on top of the golf world, Tanner Gillette is poised to show everyone he’s not just an entitled playboy coasting through tournaments on his pedigree. That is until his life is turned upside down by a little girl who shows up on his doorstep with a birth certificate inexplicably bearing his name. Complicating matters more, the kid isn’t talking. When the stress of caring for a child whose mother is AWOL gives Tanner a bad case of the yips, he’s forced to enlist help from the one person in town who can’t wait to leave.

Sticking around Chances Inlet and her father’s shiny new, über-successful family isn’t on Paige’s to-do list. Especially when she’d prefer to keep her embarrassing incident under wraps. Yet she can’t walk away from the troubled little girl. Or the sexy Australian golfer who just might make her want to take a chance on trusting her heart again.

Excerpt

She snatched up one of the beach-reads she’d brought from home. The well-worn paperback was one of her “comfort” books. Part of a Victorian era romance series featuring a group of wallflowers trying to find love. The familiar words kept swimming on the page, however, before Paige finally slammed it closed.

“There’s more to life than finding a man, sister,” Paige mumbled. Sighing heavily, she smacked her head against the pillows. “Yet another thing Jon ruined for me. Romance novels.”

She was about to reach for the TV remote when a sound from Whitney’s room caught her attention. Flipping back the covers, she listened intently for it to come again.

“It was probably something outside,” she told herself.

Except it wasn’t. Whitney was crying out in her sleep. And it sounded like she was calling for her mother. Paige raced through the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom. Whitney was tossing and turning as sobs wracked her small body. As sweet as it was to finally hear the girl’s voice, Paige was devastated by her cries.

“Shh.” Paige crawled into the bed, gathering Whitney up beside her. “Shh,” she repeated. “Everything is going to be okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Whitney’s gulping sobs eventually subsided. She curled against Paige, remarkably, still fast asleep. Paige rubbed the girl’s back, softly whispering reassurances. She wiped Whitney’s tear-stained cheeks with the sheet. Within minutes, the child was sleeping peacefully.

A noise in the doorway alerted Paige they were not alone. She looked up to see a shadow of a man illuminated by the hallway lights. After resettling Gladys in Whitney’s arms, Paige replaced her own body with a pillow. She waited a moment to make sure Whitney was settled before slipping out into the hallway where Tanner waited.

A shirtless Tanner.

“She okay?” he whispered.

Paige picked a spot beyond his muscled shoulder where she could fix her gaze to avoid openly drooling at the man.

“Mmhmm,” she answered with a nod.

He took a step closer. “Are you okay?”

She wanted to be blasé and mature, but she wasn’t that skilled at playing it cool. The man’s chest was a freaking work of art. And who knew golfers had six-pack abs? Weren’t they supposed to be pot-bellied or some damn thing? It was the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his flannel joggers that sent her over the edge.

“Could you—” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of his chest. “Could you cover that up, please?”

He looked at her as though she’d just asked him to shoot a hole-in-one on the moon. Then he chuckled sadistically before turning on his heel and padding down the long hallway leading to his bedroom.

“Water.” Paige fanned herself. “I need some water.”

Hurrying to the kitchen, she filled a glass using the dispenser on the refrigerator door. She was gulping down its contents when Tanner reappeared. Thankfully, he was wearing a T-shirt with what looked like German writing on it. A pair of sheepskin moccasins covered his feet.

“I’ve got something stronger in my study,” he said when he walked past, presumably on his way there.

A smarter woman would have returned to her bed and listened for signs Whitney might be having another nightmare.

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About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Tracy Solheim writes books with shirtless men on the cover. Some of them are actually best-sellers. The books, not the men. When she's not writing, she's practicing her curling. . . bottles of wine, that is. She's been known to cook dinner but no more than two nights in a row. Most days, she'd rather be reading, which to her is just necessary research. She lives in the suburbs of Atlanta with her husband and a neurotic Labrador retriever. Her two adult children visit but not often enough. (See the note above about cooking.) Check out her romantic suspense series featuring the Men of the Secret Service--shirtless, of course! See what she’s up to at www.tracysolheim.com

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