Spotlight: The Alchemy of Flowers by Laura Resau

A broken woman. A mysterious job ad. A chance to heal in French castle gardens--but strange things are growing behind the ancient stone walls. This debut adult novel is an enchanting, modern-day take on The Secret Garden, sprinkled with magic. Perfect for fans of Sarah Addison Allen.

Help Wanted: In search of a gardener for the ancient walled Jardins du Paradis in the South of France. Unique and rustic lodging provided. Off the grid in all ways. One must grow flowers from one's merde . . .

Exhausted and broken by loss, Eloise takes the chance of a lifetime to answer an ad in a French gardening magazine. To fly away from her life in the States and tend to both her shattered heart and the flowers of Paradise. And best of all for her . . .

Absolutely no children allowed on the premises.

Within the high garden walls, Eloise starts to learn the strange rules of the elusive estate owner. Living and working in isolation with her three companions, she finds her heart opening again to friendship--and realizes she's drawn to the handyman, Raphael. The flowers whisper to her, enchanting, delighting, healing. But why are the workers forbidden from going out during dusk? Who is the "Goddess of the Garden"? Is her mind playing tricks on her, or does she see a woodsprite flitting through the trees? The giggles and glimpses of a little girl haunt her and make her question: What is real in Paradise and what is illusion?

Eloise tries to rationalize her uneasy feelings and the darkness she uncovers beneath the garden's lush beauty, but as she digs deeper into the mysteries of her sanctuary, she begins to suspect there's a child on the grounds--who may be in danger. When Paradise becomes a deadly prison, she must risk everything to protect her newfound family and claim her second chance at happiness.

Excerpt

The Gardens of Paradise

Dizzy with jet lag, I stood on the wooden platform in Sainte-Marie-des-Fleurs as the train vanished into the distance. Cicadas hummed in a mesmerizing rhythm. The scent of lavender curled around me and a surreal blue stretched above the hills. The air itself somehow shimmered.

As I made my way to the front of the station, people whirled past, going about their lives, rolling suitcases, holding hands, kissing cheeks, strolling to tiny cars. 

Watching them drive away, I waited alone with my single bag—I’d packed light for my job in the walled Gardens of Paradise. No one to impress but the flowers. Back in Denver, packing had felt therapeutic, choosing what to bring into my new life. Mostly practical khaki-colored things.

Colorado seemed a lifetime away. Tying up the threads of my past had required a tangle of online and phone logistics. As I’d moved through automated voice options, I’d marveled at how archaic the process of getting the job had been—a magazine ad, a snail-mailed resumé, a handwritten offer of employment, and paper plane tickets. An impossible task from a fairy tale . . . yet here I was.

In my dazed state, I took in the absurd beauty of Provence on the brink of summer. Perched on a ridge stood a cluster of creamy stone buildings topped with red tile roofs. Walled terraces and haphazard stairs wove through the village, which was dotted with cypress and olive trees. Green velvet unfurled over slopes and valleys, rows of lavender ribboned into the horizon, rock outcroppings pierced the sky—all of it begging to be Postimpressionistically painted.

The afternoon sun shone on my fuzzy-brained head as I scanned for someone resembling a personal assistant. At least she’d know what I looked like, thanks to my passport photo.

Oleander blooms whispered in the breeze, and French conversations drifted by, snippets of pleasantries and greetings. Then I registered soft crying, the whimpers of a child. I locked eyes with a towheaded toddler, slumped against the stone wall, his face pink and tearstained. Lost in the bustle. I hurried to him and knelt down to eye level. Somehow the French word for lost came to my hazy brain. “Perdu?”

He gave a miserable nod, his face damp with snot and tears. Resisting the urge to comfort him, I stood up and glanced around, noting a woman just looking up from her phone, scouring the crowd, expression frazzled.

When I pointed her out, the child rushed toward her, calling out, “Maman!” in his hoarse little voice.

I looked away and swallowed the lump in my throat. This would be the last child I’d see for a while. A fact that made me want to cry, even as I welcomed it. As the parking lot emptied, I clutched my job offer in my sweaty hand like a talisman, something to reassure me this was real. It had arrived last week, a month after I’d mailed in my application—an assortment of documents, a copy of my passport, two photos, a cassette tape, and a plastic baggy of ashes . . . per the instructions of the job ad. I’d knelt in my garden, opened the airmail envelope with a whispered prayer, then read the hand- scripted letter to my rosebuds:

One is delighted to inform you that one is offering you employment

as a gardener in Paradise. Enclosed, please find an airplane ticket

from Denver to Paris, and train tickets to Sainte-Marie-des-Fleurs.

One will meet you at the station.

Respectfully,

Antoinette Beaulieu

Personal Assistant

Le Château du Paradis

I stuffed the letter back into my pocket, my stomach tightening. Now I was the sole person left at the train station. I had no phone or even a number to call. What if this Antoinette Beaulieu didn’t show?

There was no going back to Colorado. No job, no home, no friends or family there. I’d switched all my bills to autopay and hadn’t left a forwarding address. I’d donated my cheap belongings and sold my decade-old Subaru, which put a slight dent in my debt. I’d called my parents in Vermont to tell them I’d be off grid.

Then—poof— I’d flown out of my life.

And now there was no life to return to.

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About the Author

Laura Resau is the author of The Alchemy of Flowers, her debut novel for adults, and eleven acclaimed books for young people. Her novels won five Colorado Book Awards and appear on best-of booklists from Oprah, the American Library Association, and more. Trilingual and with a cultural anthropology background, she’s lived in Provence and Oaxaca, and now teaches creative writing at Western Colorado University. You might find her writing in her cozy vintage trailer in Fort Collins, Colorado, where she lives with her rock-hound husband, musician son, wild husky, a garden of healing flowers, and a hundred house plants. Connect with her online at lauraresau.com; Instagram: @lauraresau

Spotlight: Icing on the Murder by V. M. Burns

From Agatha and Edgar Award nominated author Valerie Burns, influencer-turned-bakery-owner Maddy Montgomery has sold plenty of wedding cakes before, but before she turns one out for her and her fiancé’s wedding, she’ll have to solve a little case of murder first…

Aunt Octavia would be so proud! Maddy has turned Baby Cakes Bakery—named for her 250-pound English Mastiff, Baby—into a runaway success, and she’s marrying the love of her life, veterinarian Michael Portman. #DreamWedding! Plus the timing couldn’t be better: the country’s biggest bridal expo has come to New Bison, Michigan, and Maddy has secured a spot for Baby Cakes to showcase their cakes. She’s also entered a contest for an all-expenses-paid wedding extravaganza offered by world-renowned wedding planner Serafina.

Unfortunately, supremely nasty Serafina truly takes the cake—she makes the worst bridezilla seem like a shy flower girl. But there’s one thing the wedding planner didn’t plan on—being impaled by one of the skewers Baby Cakes uses on their tiered wedding cakes.

While Maid of Honor Sheriff April Johnson rounds up suspects at the expo, Maddy and her aunt’s friends, the Baker Street Irregulars, and even Baby join forces to unveil a killer hiding in plain sight . . . before wedding bells start to chime.

Excerpt

“Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from New Bison, Michigan, it’s time for the main event. Army versus Navy in the battle of the century.” Tyler Lawrence paused dramatically before continuing. “Now, let’s get ready to rum-bullll!” He drew the last syllable out for a long time in his best impersonation of Michael Buffer, the wrestling and boxer announcer.

I wasn’t a fan of either sport. Having grown up on a naval base surrounded by sailors, even a fashionista like me recognized the phrase. I was surprised by Tyler’s performance. He was normally a quiet man of few words, but ever since he took on the added responsibility of acting mayor in addition to his knitwear shop, he’s been much more outgoing.

With his fist to his mouth as if he were holding a microphone, Tyler Lawrence moved around the large dining room table and stood in front of Michael. “In this corner, at six feet tall and weighing in at . . . ?”

“Two hundred five pounds.” Michael stretched his neck to the side in the way I’d seen professional athletes do in preparing to compete. His neck cracked, and he grinned across the table at me.

“We have Army veteran and renowned local veterinarian, Dr. Michael ‘The Man’ Portman.” Tyler cheered and smacked Michael on the back.

My head baker and friend, Leroy Danielson, stood behind Michael and massaged his shoulders like a trainer preparing a boxer to enter the ring.

Tyler went back around the table. “In this corner, at five-feet- four-inches tall and weighing in at . . . ?” He stuck his fist in front of my face.

“None of your business,” I said.

“Representing the Navy in this battle, we have the daughter of Navy Admiral Jefferson Augustus Montgomery. Fashionista, social media influencer, entrepreneur, and owner of Baby Cakes Bakery, Madison ‘The Squid’ Montgomery.”

Tyler cheered.

“Don’t call me Squid.”

April Johnson was the sheriff, my tenant, and, most importantly, my friend. She chuckled and reached over and fluffed my hair. At nearly six feet tall, with gray eyes and dark wavy hair, she was stunning. April often downplayed her beauty by pulling her hair back into a bun and wearing very little makeup. On the rare occasions when she allowed herself to be a normal human instead of a sheriff, and wore makeup and flattering clothes instead of a uniform, she was a knockout. Today was Sunday. April was off duty and looked like a model.

“This is a lot of foolishness,” Hannah Portman said. She sat at the head of the dining room table and sipped her coffee.

Hannah was Michael’s grandmother and one of the Baby Cakes bakers. She had been best friends with my Great-Aunt Octavia, who started Baby Cakes and from whom I’d inherited it.

“April, don’t encourage this nonsense,” Hannah Portman said. “If we’re done with our Sunday meeting, then we can go and let Maddy and Michael work out the details of their budget without an audience.”

“But we were just getting to the good part,” Tyler said.

Hannah Portman was an older Black woman who had mastered “the look.” She fixed her gaze onto him, and he immediately stopped. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tyler dropped his hand with the invisible microphone, rose, and started to clear the table.

Leroy Danielson snickered. Big mistake.

“And you can take Baby outside to do his business.” Hannah put one hand on her hip. Her look dared him to argue.

Thankfully, both Tyler and Leroy knew where to draw the line.

Leroy patted his leg. “Come on, Baby.”

Baby had been trained by Great-Aunt Octavia. He took a moment to stretch but then trotted next to Leroy, lining his right shoulder up with Leroy’s leg and sitting patiently while staring up at Leroy for his next command.

Leroy smiled down at Baby. “Baby, heel.”

Baby kept his shoulder lined up with Leroy’s leg and adjusted his gait to match. The two walked out of the dining room, and I heard the door open and knew they were outside.

“Humph,” Hannah said. “Now, you two have work to do, and you don’t need an audience to do it.” Her gaze moved from Michael to me. Then, she picked up a pitcher of orange juice and a plate and left.

April rose and picked up a casserole dish and the remaining plates. “I’m going before she comes back.”

When April had run for the sheriff of New Bison, Michigan, she wasn’t a trained policeman. In fact, she actually entered the race more from a need to prove that she could. The desire came after she’d entered the race. Her experience in beauty pageants and the support of Great-Aunt Octavia propelled her to victory. When she won, she went through training and learned the job. It turned out well. April found her calling and turned out to be a great sheriff, even though she lacked confidence. So, each Sunday, Great-Aunt Octavia had invited April and her other close friends over for brunch, and they discussed any hard cases. The New Bison version of Sherlock Holmes’s Baker Street Irregulars was born. Now, even though Great-Aunt Octavia was gone, the group still met whenever there were difficult problems to be solved.

Today’s problem wasn’t a crime, but figuring out the budget for Michael and my wedding might lead to bloodshed.

“Okay, Squid,” Michael said. “What’s the big problem?”

“What are you talking about? And don’t call me Squid.”

The various branches of the military had a number of names for one another. Most were benign. Michael and I often tossed them around as we bickered. Squid was his favorite term of endearment, and I didn’t mind it any more than he minded when I called him a grunt or dumb Joe. However, while engaged in tactical negotiations, I wasn’t ready to concede anything, yet.

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About the Author

Valerie (V. M.) Burns is a mystery writer whose novels and short stories have been finalists for the Agatha, Anthony, Edgar, and Next Generation Indie Book Awards. She is the author of the Mystery Bookshop, Dog Club, RJ Franklin, and Baker Street Mystery series, as well as the Bailey the Bloodhound Mysteries under the name Kallie E. Benjamin. Valerie is a member of Sisters in Crime, Crime Writers of Color, Mystery Writers of America, and the Crime Writers' Association. She is also an adjunct professor in the Writing Popular Fiction Program at Seton Hill University in Greensburg, PA. Born and raised in northwestern Indiana, Valerie now lives in the southeastern United States with her two poodles.

Spotlight: Edge of Heaven by Kat Mizera

Release Date: July 24

Available in Kindle Unlimited

I have everything I’ve ever wanted—except the thing that matters most. Her.

Rock and roll is my life.
Playing bass for Crimson Edge is the best job in the world. Even when we’re on tour with our musical arch enemies.
Until the woman I’ve secretly been in love with for years starts dating one of them. I can’t stand the way he treats her, and I don’t know why she stays.
I can’t get involved—the band has too much to lose.
But I’m going to anyway.
One way or another, I’m going to make her mine.

Author's note: There are some difficult themes in this story. For CW information, please check this book's page on my website.

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Meet Kat Mizera

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Kat Mizera was born in Miami Beach with a healthy dose of Wanderlust. She's lived from coast to coast, and everywhere in between, but home is wherever her family is. A devoted mom and wife to her wonderful and supportive husband (Kevin) and two amazing boys (Nick and Max), Kat loves to travel the globe with her adventurous, hockey loving family. Greece is at the top of that list. She hopes to one day retire there, spending her days writing books on the beach.

Kat is former freelance sports writer who now writes steamy hockey romance about her favorite fictional teams, the Las Vegas Sidewinders and the Lauderdale Knights. The library of novels she's penned also include sexy contemporary stories about baseball stars, alpha sex club owners, bodyguards, rock stars, and royalty. Regardless of genre, her books about bad boys with hearts of gold will steal your breath, rock your world and melt your heart.

To find out about Kat Mizera’s upcoming releases and giveaways, sign up for her newsletter here

For more information on Kat Mizera and her books visit: https://katmizera.com/

Connect with Kat Mizera: https://katmizera.com/pages/contact-kat

Spotlight: Scare Thee Well by ReGina Welling

Genre: Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Three hundred years ago, one witch had to live with her mistakes. Today, another might have to die for them.

Tansy Shackleton has spent her entire life carrying the guilt of her family's legacy. If not for her ancestor's mistake, good witches might not be trapped in the coastal town of Laurel Haven, Maine. But no matter how hard she tries to make amends, she can't stop seeing the stain on her soul. Not even at the cost of her marriage.

Connor Shackleton has tried everything he can think of to get his wife to see that she's not to blame for the unwitting actions of a long-dead witch. At his wit's end and unable to watch Tansy work herself into the ground for something that wasn't even her fault, he proposes they take a break for a few days, just to get some perspective.

He should have known Tansy would martyr both their happiness on the alter of guilt, but he didn't. He wanted her back almost from the minute he walked away, but she's shut him out of her life as firmly as the door she closed behind him.

The problem is, life and death in Laurel Haven go hand in hand for witches of the blood, and just like Tansy, Connor's one of them. The only way to move forward is to turn and face the past head-on. Together with her new coven, Tansy will have to put all of Laurel Haven's ghosts to rest or die trying.

Excerpt

“More wine?” As it always had, the sound of Connor’s voice tickled a path from her ears to her center with a detour through her heart. She knew that voice in every shade it came in—quietly amused, achingly tender, ragged with need—and right now it hit notes all three.

Given the state of their marriage, she should have thanked him and turned away.

She didn’t.

He held the bottle out with that easy, lopsided smile that had once made her say yes to forever without hesitation. And maybe it was the firelight or the wine or the way his hair had gone all unruly from salt air and sweat, but he looked so damn good it made her breath catch in her throat. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?”

“Me? Never. I’m not that kind of guy. Is that glitter in your hair?”

Leave it to him to notice. Even in the writhing shadows cast by the flickering bonfire, the man paid attention—to everything. To her. Always to her.

“Probably. I had a shift at Haven’s Rest. You can’t say you’ve really lived until you’ve witnessed a pole dancing class for seniors.”

His brow lifted and his smile deepened until it made her stomach tighten. She wasn’t imagining the warmth in his eyes. It was there—open and unguarded, like he hadn’t spent the last year trying to understand what had gone wrong between them.

“Hence the glitter?”

“Hence,” she said, nodding. “The things I’ve seen—I can’t even tell you, but I’m sure I’m scarred for life.”

“Worse than facing the Shadespawn?” Rue asked from her seat on the other side of the dwindling fire.

“Possibly. Seraphina Morgan stripped down to a thong.” Tansy took a slow sip of wine, then added, “And not just any thong. Sequined. Purple. With fringe.” She shuddered for effect. “There was choreography. And a chair involved, and I swear to every goddess that ever existed, no one who saw the performance will ever be the same.”

Poppy choked on her drink. Rue suggested a brain bleaching spell.

“Whose idea was that?” Bella wanted to know.

“No idea,  but I’m telling you,” Tansy went on, “that woman hit a split that defied both her age and several laws of physics. I’m not sure if I’m horrified or deeply impressed.”

Connor snorted, clinking his cup gently against hers before taking a sip. His gaze didn’t leave her face. She felt it on her skin like a caress, soft and careful but full of memory. The glint of amusement there unraveled something small but stubborn inside her.

She remembered exactly what it would feel like to slide her tongue into that adorable dimple in his chin. It had been nearly a year since she’d let herself get close enough to her husband to want him this badly. The separation hadn’t been easy on her or him, but it had done nothing to dim the fire between them. If anything, it had made her more aware of how badly she missed what they’d had—before it all fell apart.

What are you thinking? The voice in her head was not fully hers, and it wasn’t particularly pleasant. You let him back in, you’ll hurt him again.

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About the Author

ReGina Welling prefers not to talk about herself in the third person so...

I live in Maine with my husband, a silly flufferpup named Dash, and a crazy cat named Cricket. I write full time and also create mixed media artwork when I get the chance.

When I was three, my mom brought home a new book and when she went to read it to me, I read it to her instead. That was when she realized I'd learned to read. Since then I couldn't even estimate the number of books I've read. It's a lot!

I love talking to other readers so please visit me in any one of these various places and don't forget to let me know you stopped by!

Website * Facebook * X * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

Spotlight: Bottom of the Breath by Jayne Mills

For fans of Liane Moriarty and Maria Semple, this contemporary debut novel weaves together romance, mystery, and adventure as a woman travels to the Grand Canyon seeking answers after uncovering an old family secret.

After crashing into a devastating revelation, Cyd’s tranquil life on the Florida panhandle is further upended when she receives a letter announcing an inheritance from an estranged aunt. The inheritance contains mysterious “items of a personal nature” which Cyd must collect in person halfway across the country. In a last attempt to salvage her deteriorating marriage, Cyd agrees to travel with her husband on what he promises—and she questions—will be the trip of a lifetime.

As they set out, a hurricane threatens their hometown. Soon, fueled by the growing threat of the storm and the tension brewing between them, the couple’s long-suppressed problems erupt. Cyd digs deep for the courage to continue the journey on her own, unsure if either her home or her marriage will survive.

Once in Phoenix, Cyd learns the strange details of the inheritance and a decades-old family secret. But what was the whole truth? Clues and instinct lead Cyd to Sedona and then to the Grand Canyon. She descends into the vast chasm alone searching for answers to newly raised questions and age-old mysteries. She steps off the beaten path, literally, knowing she must make peace with her pain-filled past and her uncertain future.

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About the Author

Jayne Mills has always been a storyteller at heart. While her career as a financial advisor kept her busy, she secretly nurtured a lifelong dream of writing fiction. She honed her voice through Financial Wellness Monthly, a newsletter blending finance, yoga, and meditation, and developed The Wealth-Wellness Connection, a program exploring the emotional side of money. Now, with her debut novel, she’s stepping fully into the world of storytelling.

Jayne holds degrees in journalism and finance and is a registered yoga teacher. When she’s not writing, she’s on the road—navigating (but never driving) a custom van on a quest to visit every national park with her partner and their Border Collie, Elvis. She lives and writes in the peaceful surroundings of St. Augustine, Florida.

Spotlight: Wicked Ambition: The Lost Treasure by Patti O’Shea

(The Paladin League, #7)

Publication date: July 21st 2025

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense

Synopsis:

Ayla Desmond never takes risks, but when she senses her twin is in trouble, she boards a plane to Puerto Jardin—a country teetering on the edge of chaos. As a Public Relations specialist at the Paladin League, she’s used to spin, not bullets. But this mission plunges her into a deadly game where trust is scarce and danger is everywhere.

Special Forces Sgt. Oziah “Wizard” West is the king of one-night stands, but he hasn’t been able to forget the last woman he hooked up with, a mysterious blonde who slipped away from his hotel room. When he spots her in Puerto Jardin, he knows there will be trouble. Oz rushes to her side, determined to keep her safe.

Ayla wants nothing to do with Oz. He’s a mistake she’d rather forget, but circumstances force them together. Surrounded by mercenaries and stalked by mobsters who believe she holds the key to a hidden treasure, she has no choice but to rely on the enigmatic stranger who ignited her passion. As danger escalates, so do their feelings, and then a positive pregnancy test changes everything.

Now, Oz risks not only his heart but also his life to protect Ayla and their unborn child. Can they survive the treacherous game they’re caught in, or will their love become the ultimate casualty?

Wicked Ambition is a stand-alone romance with a HEA. There are references to events that happened in earlier books, but it’s not necessary to read them to enjoy this story.

Indulge in a protective Special Forces hero and a heroine who is a fish-out-of-water, but will do whatever it takes to save her sister. This romantic suspense story features a one-night stand, an unexpected pregnancy, and a second chance romance.

Excerpt

A while later, the second bus from Rio Blanco rolled in. This one was larger, with a hump on top. Some parts of it had rust, while other parts showed obvious metal patches, and the green paint had faded in the places where it hadn’t entirely flaked away.

He expected a repeat of the first bus, and then another ninety-minute-plus wait for the last one to arrive. 

That wasn’t what he got.

Oz tensed as a man disembarked. His hair was cut military short, and he was clean-shaven—nothing like the pictures he’d studied—but there was no mistaking him for someone else. This was the dude he’d been assigned to watch for.

As he reached the sidewalk, he paused and glanced around. He gave the gang members a look that appeared threatening even from across the street and then headed off to the east.

In a minute, Oz would follow him. As soon as a tail wouldn’t stand out. He stood and monitored the man’s progress.

The next passenger who exited the bus froze him in place.

She wore black trousers and a white shirt and dragged a small, wheeled suitcase out of the bus and onto the sidewalk. It tipped over, but she used the handle to put it upright. The catcalls from the gang began immediately. She ignored them, looking up and down the street.

Oz muttered a curse. He’d bet a month’s pay she was searching for a taxi.

The man he was assigned to tail was nearly out of sight. Oz needed to move, needed to go after him, and he couldn’t. He wouldn’t leave any woman in this predicament, but especially not this one.

Because underneath that floppy straw hat she had on, Oz knew her hair was blonde. He knew the way her blue eyes looked when she was aroused and the way she sighed when he entered her. Knew the little noises she made when she came.

Patting his pocket, he felt the familiar outline of the gold-hoop earring she’d left behind.

She walked to the west, away from the gang members. They followed her.

His assignment disappeared around the corner, but it didn’t matter. Oz couldn’t let anything happen to her. She was the woman he hadn’t been able to forget for seven long weeks.

Striding across the street, he went to protect his prissy little blonde.

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About the Author

Patti O'Shea's passions are writing, airplanes and traveling. Fortunately, she's been able to enjoy all three. After receiving a degree in advertising copywriting, she took a job with a major U.S. airline and now works in 757 Engineering. Besides teaching her about the planes she loves, it's given her an opportunity to travel to places like Australia, Papua New Guinea and Canada's Yukon Territory.

Writing, though, remains her primary love. Patti created her first romance when she was in junior high school and has been hooked ever since. She should have figured out she was a writer years earlier, however, since her dolls had such involved lives, complete with goals, motivation and conflict.

Connect:

https://www.pattioshea.com/

https://www.facebook.com/PattiOSheaBooks/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/177046.Patti_O_Shea