Spotlight: Falling in the Blue Hour by Kristi Ayers

Genre: Young Adult Contemporary Romance

Publication Date: June 4th, 2024

Surfing with her best friend Brody by day and playing guitar alongside her other best friend Nate in the evenings is what Sam equates as the ideal way to spend summer vacation. When her mother announces they will be moving from the California beach where Sam grew up, Sam’s world gets rocked off its core. Her mother and her childhood best friend from Michigan, both newly divorced, decide they want a fresh start, and what better way than a sleepy fishing town on the coast of South Carolina, their families all together in one big house.

Sam’s mother doesn’t tell her that Julie’s boys will be joining them. She last saw Ledger and Noah on a visit to Michigan when she was thirteen. Gangly limbs, braces, pimples, and a hefty dose of brotherly competition didn’t amuse Sam then, and nothing is going to amuse her about them now. Ledger and Noah aren’t her boys. Nate and Brody hold that title.

But Ledger and Noah grew up…

The brothers begin to show an interest in Sam, and slowly, day by day, they wiggle their way into her guarded, tentative sphere. It’s not until one night that a race in the swimming pool changes Noah’s feelings for Sam, but it’s too little too late.

Will Sam be able to navigate her feelings for both South Carolina and her new housemates in the midst of missing her old life, or will she let the tide sweep all her passions away? Find out in the latest teen romance from author Kristi Ayers, Falling in the Blue Hour.

Warning: Contains strong language and sexual situations.

Excerpt

   I can feel her respirations have evened out, but she’s not asleep yet, just relaxed. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

     She’s quiet for a few moments, staring at the ceiling. “No. You warned me. I didn’t listen.” She turns her head to look at me. Our faces are so close now. “…and I should have.”

     My eyes glance at her lips, but I drive them back up to her eyes. I want nothing more in this world than to kiss her right now, but we can’t. Not yet. 

     “I want you to look back up at the ceiling.” Her brows draw together, confused by my request. “Look up there, Sam.” She tries to read me for a few moments and then finally turns her head and looks up at the white ceiling. 

     Her profile is stunning. I have a hard time continuing, taking one long blink to get back on track.

     “That’s a blank canvas. We can paint any kind of picture we want. Now I want you to close your eyes.”

     She lets her eyes close, her long lashes resting against her cheeks now.

     “Picture yourself in the ocean, sitting on your board.” She gives me a side-eye with a raised brow. “Just humor me.” When her eyes are closed again and she’s focused, I continue, “Think of what the water feels like moving against your legs, your hands. What it sounds like. What the breeze feels like flowing through your hair. Focus on the peacefulness that’s out there because it’s just you and the warm sun shining on your back, your shoulders, your arms. Do you feel it?”

     She nods. Her lips are parted.

     “This time, there isn’t a wave coming. Just soft lapping ripples that started a thousand miles away. Each ripple is determined, and it never once lost faith that it would reach the shore. It saw sharks that cut it in half, boats that flattened its drive for the minutes of time they took to leisurely move along, and storms that threw it off its course completely, throwing droplets in every direction, but it never wavered in its determination to reach the sand.” 

     I love that she’s intently listening to me. “The ripple meets you where you are and you both head in the direction of the shore. You lie on your stomach and paddle, following alongside the ripple that started before you even decided to go out on the ocean, before you even woke up that morning. When you both reach the shore, you realize that, like seashells, as fragile as you seem, you traveled, you overcame, and you made it home.”

     Her eyes remain closed, but I feel her hand search for mine, threading her fingers through mine when she finds it. 

     I freeze. Any words that were on the tip of my tongue to say next get stuck in my throat along with a plethora of emotions. How many times did I want to simply hold her hand since the night we kissed? Countless. Though admittedly, half were to lead her away from Ledger. But the other half…I wanted to take her wherever made her smile. 

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About the Author

I write in the hope of sparking infinite imaginations for all readers who enjoy love stories. I most enjoy writing young adult and new adult novels containing slow-burn romance with a dash of pining, a sprinkle of pounding heartbeats, and a measured heaping of desire. When I’m not writing, I’m reading, planting flowers, or hanging out with my family. 

Connect:

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Cover Reveal: Wrinkled Rebels by Laura Katz Olson

Literary Novel / Historical Fiction

Date Published: 07-23-2024

Publisher: Vine Leaves Press

Now 80 years old, retirement and advanced age have dissipated the spirit of six college radicals of the 1960s, who jointly had participated in civil rights campaigns and anti-war protests. Having engaged in only periodic communication over the decades, they suddenly receive an invitation to reunite for an extended weekend. Struggling with whether to go, each of them has divergent qualms and expectations for the proposed gathering.

During their three days together, they confront their inner demons, each other, and their future. Does Rebecca, the prime mover of the event, find solace after losing her wife and career? Can Malaika regain her sense of self after stepping down from her successful law practice? Mourning the loss of her youthful athletic prowess and attractiveness, what happens when Deanna faces her old friends?

Struggling with two divorces and a failing marriage, can Russell attain peace of mind? How will Max, an expat living in Canada, manage with his incipient dementia? Will the demoralized Keith recover his idealism?

Wrinkled Rebels is a story of how six people achieve meaningful lives through the struggle for social justice. It is also a tale of love, the bonds of friendship, and growing old positively.

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About the Author

Laura Katz Olson, AGF Distinguished Professor of Political Science, has taught at Lehigh University since 1974. To date, she has published nine nonfiction books, focusing on aging and healthcare. Her latest, Ethically Challenged: Private Equity Storms U.S. Health Care has been awarded several gold medals, including from the Independent Book Publishers Association (IBPA) and the Benjamin Franklin Awards. Elder Care Journey: A View from the Front Lines, which relates her personal experiences as a caregiver for her mother, won a Gold Medal in the Ninth Annual Living Now Book Awards. Wrinkled Rebels is her second novel.

Connnect:

Website: http://wrinkledrebels-olson.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61559156664714

Twitter @lauralee111

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/55546307-laura-olson

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/laura-katz-olson-a7706034/

Spotlight: Follow Her Down by Victoria Helen Stone

Decades of doubt, fear, and suspicion won’t let a woman overcome her trauma in a riveting novel of suspense by the Amazon Charts bestselling author of Jane Doe and The Hook.

The murder of Elise Rockwood’s sister shattered her family. Their mother’s anxiety kept her housebound. Elise’s paranoid brother, Kyle, saw conspiracies everywhere. Elise numbed her grief in an aimless lifestyle that left her emotionally broken. All of them victims. A local boy eventually confessed, but the damage was already done.

Years later, Elise is reinventing herself. She’s bought a mountain lodge to be close to home again and to find stability. Not even an email from her ex tempts her into revisiting the past. But Kyle won’t let it go. He still believes there’s more to their sister’s murder―and the confession―than meets the eye. When Elise’s ex is found dead in the same forest where her sister went missing decades before, Elise is finally willing to listen.

The traumas of the past are reemerging. So is the truth. Elise’s greatest fear now is who will survive it.

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About the Author

Victoria Helen Stone is the author of the runaway hit Jane Doe, which was optioned by Sony for television, and the Amazon Charts and Wall Street Journal bestseller The Last One Home. 

In addition to her critically acclaimed novels of dark intrigue and emotional suspense — At the Quiet Edge, Problem Child, Half Past, False Step and the chart-topping Evelyn, After — she has also published 29 books as USA Today bestselling author Victoria Dahl and won the prestigious American Library Association Reading List award for best genre fiction. Her novels have been published in 18 different languages.

Victoria writes in her home office high in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah, far from her origins in the flattest plains of Minnesota, Texas and Oklahoma. She enjoys gorgeous summer trail hikes in the mountains almost as much as she enjoys staying inside by the fire during winter. Victoria is passionate about dessert, true crime, and her terror of mosquitoes, which have targeted her in a diabolical conspiracy to hunt her down no matter the season.

Connect:
Official Website: VictoriaHelenStone.com
Instagram: @victoriahelenstone
Threads: @victoriahelenstone 

Cover Reveal: Illusion of Stars by Sarah Marie Page

Publication date: July 16th 2024
Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Romance

Synopsis:

She’s stealing more than secrets.

As the royal physician of a tiny, windswept island, Isabel spends her days trying to keep the queen from dying and the mad king from streaking naked down the halls. But when her best friend is found murdered on the beaches, her world is ripped apart. Desperate for answers, she discovers a stash of letters that reveal a terrifying truth: the neighboring kingdom of Volgaard possesses a kingdom-shattering weapon and is poised to conquer everything in its path.

Seeking vengeance, Isabel infiltrates the enemy. Her mission? Woo Erik Lothgarson, the general’s steamy, illusion-magic wielding son, and steal the dangerous weapon. She can bring Volgaard to its knees—if she isn’t caught.

But as Isabel dances along the knife edge of deception, the lines between truth and fiction blur, and she must wrestle her quest for vengeance against her undeniable attraction to the enemy.

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About the Author

I'm Sarah, an award-winning author who writes fluffy fantasy. I live in Phoenix, Arizona with my equally fluffy cat (starting to see a pattern here?) And fine, I have a husband too.

He's not fluffy.

My debut novel, ILLUSION OF STARS, comes out July 2024. I'm currently working on the (untitled) ILLUSION OF STARS sequel and SERPENT GREEN, VENOM BLUE. I also have a witchy manuscript that lives in a trunk under the bed.

We don't talk about that.

My work has been featured in Y Magazine, The Advocate, The Crow’s Quill, and Hippocampus Magazine (among others) and I've been a guest on a ton of podcasts like The Outspoken Artist, Bookish Flights, Books are Magical and the Author's Alcove.

If I got some pity laughs out of you, I suggest signing up for my newsletter where I will make you pity laugh some more. 

I'm also a frequent flier on Instagram, so if you still can't get enough of me, you can also follow me there.

Connect:

https://www.sarahpagestories.com/

https://www.instagram.com/sarahpagestories/

https://x.com/sarahmclifford

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/48017983.Sarah_Marie_Page

Spotlight: One Deadly Eye by Randy Wayne White

Publication Date: June 4, 2024

Publisher: Hanover Press

From New York Times bestselling author Randy Wayne White, after the deadliest hurricane to hit Florida’s Gulf Coast in a century, Doc Ford must stop a gang of thieves—and worse—during the twelve hours of chaos that follow the passing of a storm’s eye.

A Russian diplomat disappears while Doc is tagging great white sharks in South Africa, and members of a criminal brotherhood, Bratva, don’t think it’s a coincidence. They track the biologist to Dinkin’s Bay Marina on the west coast of Florida, where Brotherhood mercenaries have already deployed, prepared to pillage and kill in the wake of an approaching hurricane.

No one, however, is prepared for a cataclysmic event that will forever change the island and leaves Doc to deal with escapees from Russia’s most dangerous prison, including a serial killer—the Vulture Monk—who has a taste for blood. His only ally is an enigmatic British inventor whose decision to ride out the storm might have more to do with revenge than protecting a priceless art collection.

Doc has a lot at stake—the lives of his fiancée, Hannah Smith, and their son, plus the fate of his hipster pal, Tomlinson, whose sailboat has disappeared in the Gulf of Mexico. The greatest threat of all, though, is a force that cannot be escaped—a Category Five hurricane that, minute by minute, melds sins of the past with Florida's precarious future.

Excerpt

1 

I returned an arcane Station Six pistol to the US Consulate in Cape Town, South Africa, unaware a storm that would forever change Florida had gathered to the north, fueled by a mirror that is the Sahara Desert. 

In a world of electronic intrusions, I’m too often deafened to the silence of atmospheric tides, saltwater and sunlight—dynamics that can ignite a cataclysm six thousand miles away. 

“Has this weapon been fired?” the consulate armorer asked. 

The strange bolt action pistol lay on a table. Its bulbous barrel (an integrated sound suppressor) had the utilitarian aspect of a ball-peen hammer. 

“At the range a few days ago. Five rounds,” I said. 

“But not in the field.” 

“Nope.” 

“A few practice rounds. That’s all?” He sounded disappointed. 

“With a bolt action single-shot, five rounds was four too many.” 

A Cold War assassin’s tool was an ironic weapon to issue me, a marine biologist in Africa under the guise of tagging great white sharks.

He noticed the bandage on my knuckles. Blood had wicked through the gauze.

“Tough on your shooting hand. Too bad, Dr. Ford.”

“Tougher to explain if I’d been stopped at the border,” I said. “Shouldn’t I get some sort of receipt?”

When I was at the door, the armorer spoke again. “Afrikaners call the stretch of water off Dyers Island ‘Shark Alley.’ I heard a Russian diplomat went missing there yesterday.” There was a pause. “Or defected. Depends, I guess, on who you ask.”

It was a question without a question mark.

Dyers Island, one hundred twenty kilometers southeast. It brought back the stench of thousands of fur seals and penguins fighting, breeding, dying, birthing pups on a rock the size of a parking lot. Blood, the ammonia stink of urine, verified that monster great whites cruised the island’s rim.

I replied, “Can’t say I’ve been there before. Maybe next visit.”

“After your wedding, perhaps. An interesting honeymoon that would make. A few weeks away, isn’t it?”

In state department/intel circles, there are no personal secrets, only classified obligations.

“Maybe,” I said again. I tapped my wrist. “The COS wants a word before I take off.”

He buzzed me out.

The US Consulate in Cape Town is a geometry of white concrete on acres of landscaped grounds. Tiers of bulletproof windows, three stories high, are dwarfed by the enormity of Table Mountain, a slower geologic cataclysm eight kilometers north.

Across the commons, marines in BDUs were getting in a morning run. Kids with tattoos, jarhead buzz cuts, rocking to a navy cadence call.

Let ’em blow, let ’em blow,

Let those trade winds blow,

From the east, from the west…

Let those nukes, the new kids glow… 

A foreboding message cheerfully voiced this spring morning in September, half a globe away from my lab and home at Dinkin’s Bay Marina, west coast Florida.

Building A, through security, up three flights of granite steps. The Chief of Station slid an envelope across her desk, an encrypted IronKey memory drive inside.

After some distancing pleasantries, she said, “Don’t download the files until you’re over international waters. Are you familiar with Black Dolphin Prison on the Kazakhstan border?”

I might have smiled if I didn’t know the place was real. Russia sends its twisted worst to Black Dolphin—terrorists, pedophiles, serial killers, the criminally insane. Cannibals.

“Named for a stone dolphin carved by inmates,” I said. “No prisoner has ever left there alive from what I’ve heard.”

Chief of Station indicated the envelope. “Until two years ago. There was an earthquake, the facility flooded. Guards evacuated and left seven hundred prisoners behind. We don’t know how many drowned, but at least six escaped according to the few villagers they didn’t murder.” Again, a glance at the envelope. “It’s all in there.”

I started to explain, respectfully, that I was a poor choice to send to Russia.

Chief of Station surprised me by agreeing. “Of course. Not at your age, Dr. Ford.” She was bemused. “And your skill set isn’t up to…well. Let me ask you something. This morning, were you aware of the van shadowing you?”

I answered, “Until it missed the curve at Killig Bay. Was anyone hurt?”

Her flat gaze told me the subject was not to be discussed. “Our concern is, they know who you are. Don’t worry, we’ll look into the matter. Besides, you’re getting married in a few weeks, aren’t you?”

Not if a certain agency didn’t stop leveraging me with extradition threats.

I responded, “That’s the plan.”

As I went out the door, she said something about the weather—“Keep an eye on it,” possibly, which I took as a reference to my flight. Or marriage. Or both.

At Wingfield Airbase, a chill breeze was siphoning toward the Sahara—another silent dynamic. At 36,000 feet, I opened the IronKey while our pilots rode the North Equatorial Jetstream across the Atlantic.

I read. I summarized. Four, maybe six of Russia’s most violent criminals had left a blood trail crossing to the Caspian Sea and might have entered the US via Venezuela or Mexico.

Might. But it made sense. Bratva, a Russian criminal brotherhood, and Wagner mercenaries had established crime syndicates in major US cities, including Miami.

Thus the courtesy of briefing me, a biologist whose skill set was doubted, but who could at least pick up a phone and dial for help.

So why bother with the second, unopened folder on my laptop screen?

Why, indeed.

Sixteen hours in the air. I dozed, awoke when the pilot warned of turbulence. Somewhere off Brazil, the plane pitched, banged down hard into thermal clouds that mimicked tentacles. We landed and took off again at sunset. Below revolved a familiar green mosaic of seaward borders. South America. The coastline tracked my past and the passage of time.

To port, a monoxide haze flagged Caracas. The largest tarpon in the Americas had been landed there long before Lake Maracaibo became a swill of petroleum, plastics, and industrial offal.

After that, there were only small pockets of light: jungle villages, fires burning, night islands of humanity linked by darkness, aglow like pearls, bright and solitary from four miles high.

We crossed the flight corridor of Western Cuba, Pinar Del Rio. More solitary lights. Somewhere down there was a farm town, Vinales, a baseball diamond, wooden bleachers, fields where oxen grazed.

I winced away fun memories of villagers and playing ball with barnstorming friends.

Nostalgia is a waste of time. The present is our only tenuous reality. It’s all a rational person has. But there was something grating about the Chief of Station’s smirk regarding my skills and age. And her reference to the impending wedding had the ring of sterile dismissal.

My betrothed—Hannah Summerlin Smith. Captain Hannah to fly-fishing aficionados from Ketchum to Key West. And the mother of our toddler son, Izaak.

In the Everglades, in the middle of nowhere, is a jet port that never got off the ground for environmental reasons. But its ten-thousand-foot runway is still used clandestinely and for commercial touch-and-goes.

Dade-Collier Training and Transition Airport is the official name.

They dropped me off in the wee hours of the morning, the air heat-laden, wet, ripe with sulfur. By 4:00 a.m. I was in my new truck, a gray Ford, crossing the Causeway bridges a few miles from the marina and home.

I reminded myself, If you don’t stop lying to Hannah, there won’t be a wedding.

Most of us have a nagging, destructive voice that second-guesses even the best of decisions.

Is that such a bad thing? mine argued.

Excerpted from One Deadly Eye by Randy Wayne White. Copyright © 2024 by Randy Wayne White. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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About the Author

Randy Wayne White is the New York Times bestselling and award-winning author of the Doc Ford series. In 2011, White was named a Florida Literary Legend by the Florida Heritage Society. A fishing and nature enthusiast, he has also written extensively for National Geographic Adventure, Men's Journal, Playboy and Men's Health. He lives on Sanibel Island, Florida, where he was a light-tackle fishing guide for many years, and spends much of his free time windsurfing, playing baseball, and hanging out at Doc Ford's Rum Bar & Grille. Sharks Incorporated is his middle grade series, including Fins and Stingers.

Connect:

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Facebook

Instagram: @randywaynewhite

Spotlight: Need You Now by Maria K. Alexander

(A Pelican Bay Novella)
Publication date: June 2nd 2024
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Can two lost souls reunite in time to save her shop and their hearts?

Abby O’Connell returned to Pelican Bay to start a new chapter of her life. With the revitalization of the hurricane-ravaged beach town, it’s a perfect time to open the bath and body product shop she’s always dreamed of. But with her place looking more like a construction zone, the risk of not being ready for opening day is high. Just when she thinks things can’t get worse, she takes a fall on the beach, only to be rescued by her sexy surfer ex.

Connor Maguire was always the party guy. In recovery from a substance abuse disorder, he’s gotten his act together and now is a partner in a home improvement business and co-host of a reality TV show. Surfing has always been a way to escape his worries while becoming one with the waves. When he witnesses a woman fall on the beach, the last person he expects is the girl whose heart he broke ten years ago.

With a week until the grand opening of her shop, can he use his renovation skills to bring her shop and their hearts to life without risking his hard-earned recovery?

Excerpt

She quickly dressed in running shorts, a tank top, and sneakers. After grabbing a bottle of water, she went downstairs and let herself out the rear entrance, refusing to walk through the store and the reminder of all that needed to be done.

There’d be time to freak about work later. Now she needed to clear her head.

The benefit of living above her storefront was its prime location along the boardwalk, only a few steps away from the beach. Abby veered left and jogged along the water, pacing herself. She did a circuit around the lighthouse before turning and heading past where she started and the newly renovated amusement pier.

The sun had peeked past the horizon and was slowly making its way into a new day. Watching the sun rise over the Atlantic was one thing she’d missed most after leaving Pelican Bay nine years ago, a year after Hurricane Samantha hit and wrecked the small New Jersey barrier island. In the months since she’d returned, Abby had made a point of watching it rise every day. Each sunrise looked different and brought her a joy she’d experienced nowhere else.

Usually, she had this part of the beach to herself, but she caught the outline of someone in the water. 

A surfer. 

Her heart lurched as she got closer.

Could it be…

It was hard to be sure from the distance, but once he rose on the board and got into position, Abby recognized the form…the body…the man.

Connor Maguire.

After riding the wave in, he grabbed the board and paddled out even further. He straddled the board with his back to the shoreline, like a god calling to the waves. Then, with the ease and swiftness of the boy she remembered, he turned and paddled toward shore, rising at the perfect moment to get the lift and rush he needed to propel him forward.

Abby continued to run, mesmerized by his form, by the way his hair and body looked against the backdrop of the rising sun. The damn man was as beautiful as ever.

Despite the magnetic pull, she had every intention of running past him. 

If only she had been watching where she was going. 

When she stepped on something in the sand that caused her ankle to turn, all she could do was cry out as her knee buckled, and she started to fall.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Maria K. Alexander is an award-winning contemporary romance author. She writes about strong women, who are fearless in pursuit of their ambitions. Her stories have strong connections with family and friends, both important parts of her life. When not writing, she loves to read, bake, crochet, bike, visit the beach, and watch romantic comedies. She has two adult children and is a semi-empty nester. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and juggles a full-time job, while dreaming of writing full time by the Jersey shore.

You can keep in touch with Maria at: http://mariakalexander.com and https://linktr.ee/mariakalexander

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7393870.Maria_K_Alexander

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