Spotlight: This is Halloween by Sarah Branson

(A Blue Spruce Hills Novella)

Publication date: September 17th 2026

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Midwife. Halloween. A Pennsylvania hill town. A ghost with an agenda. A historian with patient eyes.

Jules Lockwood, nurse-midwife and family nurse practitioner, wants two years of loan forgiveness and a one-way ticket to Australia. Her obstacle: a town that keeps finding reasons to need her.

Eli Matthews, Blue Spruce Hills town historian, is the kind of man who came back when it mattered and stayed. He brings coffee every morning without being asked.

Agnes Bell, midwife, 1856 to 1931, has been waiting in Blue Spruce Hills since her death for the right pair of hands to pass her work to. She has found them. She is not subtle about it.

On Halloween night, when the veil between past and present is at its thinnest, everything Jules came to Blue Spruce Hills to avoid arrives at once.

This Is Halloween delivers the satisfaction of a woman choosing herself and her work on her own terms, a slow-burn romance that earns every moment, and a ghost story that will make you wish you could have known Agnes Bell.

• small town romance
• ghost mentor
• found community
• slow burn
• woman finding home
• past and present collide
• reluctant to stay
• Halloween setting
• professional woman romance
• haunted by the past (literal)
• second chance at belonging

Heat level: closed door
Series: Blue Spruce Hills, Book 1 — standalone, complete story, no cliffhanger
POV: third person limited, Jules
Tense: past
Setting: small Pennsylvania town, October through May
Comp titles: The House in the Cerulean Sea; Beach Read; A Discovery of Witches
Content notes: pregnancy and birth depicted (clinical, not graphic); brief mention of historical pregnancy loss (off-page); deployment/absent spouse (minor character)

Excerpt

Juliet "Jules" Lockwood had sworn exactly six times since leaving the highway and crossing the Blue Spruce Hills town line. All six had been silent. All six had been necessary.

She pulled her Subaru into the gravel lot beside the Blue Spruce Hills Community Clinic and sat there longer than necessary, hands wrapped around the steering wheel like the car might attempt escape without her. Outside, the October sky was an intense blue with a few white clouds scudding across it. A carved pumpkin grinned from the clinic's front step. Orange lights shaped like leaves were looped around the porch railing. Just up the street, a plastic skeleton swung from a telephone pole, rotating haphazardly in the wind.

Jules stared at the skeleton. The skeleton appeared to stare back.

She opened the car door, stepped out onto the gravel, closed her eyes, and took a deep inhale. Wood smoke and baked goods, harvest-sweet with cinnamon and nutmeg. It was, Jules thought grimly, aggressively charming. She took a step and nearly collided with a man holding a cardboard tray of coffee.

"Oh! Sorry!" he said, immediately steadying both the tray and her elbow with equal care. He was tall and laid back, with dark hair that the wind had done something unrequested to and kind brown eyes, soft and patient, the sort of eyes that suggested the person behind them listened when you talked. He wore a canvas jacket the color of cedar bark and was smiling with the easy confidence of someone who had nowhere to be and was fine with that. "You must be Jules."

She froze. This was... unfortunate. Because those eyes were going to be a problem. She recognized his type immediately, the way one would recognize a load-bearing wall, structural and quiet, that the whole room organizes itself around without anyone quite noticing. Those eyes reflected the sort of steadiness that belonged to men who stayed. She had believed that about someone once. Believed it comprehensively and inconveniently, and at considerable personal expense. Never again.

"I'm Eli Matthews," he said, and held out the coffee tray. "Town historian and unofficial town greeter. I brought options. Decaf, regular, and one with oat milk, because the clinic called ahead and..." he paused, reconsidering his own sentence, "okay, I asked Margaret at the post office, who asked Clara at the bakery, who said she had heard that you'd mentioned oat milk to someone at the gas station in Lehighton."

Jules stared at the tray. "That's a significant intelligence operation for a cup of coffee."

He smiled, a little sheepishly. "Small town. We have patterns." He glanced at the pumpkin on the porch. "Also, it's October. We take hospitality seriously in October."

She reached for the oat milk coffee. Behind her, someone cleared their throat very distinctly — the throat-clearing of someone who had been waiting a respectable amount of time and was now done waiting. Jules's hand tightened around the cup.

She recognized that sound. She knew it the way she knew a change in barometric pressure, in her teeth, at the base of her skull, in the specific cold that moved along her spine when something was present that had no business being present.

Absolutely not. I am not doing ghosts again.

She turned slowly.

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Award-winning feminist speculative fiction author Sarah Branson spent close to thirty years as a midwife before turning to fiction, writing tales of action, adventure, revenge, and romance rooted in the strength and resiliency of the human spirit. Her New Earth universe imagines a future where diversity of identity is simply the texture of life, with honors including the 2022 Kindle Book Award for science fiction, the 2025 Wishing Shelf Book Award Gold Medal for A Pirates' Pact, and a Foreword Indie Award Honorable Mention for For the Love of Glitter. Her two newest releases expand beyond New Earth: This Is Halloween, a cozy women's fiction novella in the Blue Spruce Hills series (September 17, 2026), and Life Ends, Love Remains: A Revolutionary Ghost Story, a literary paranormal novel set in Ridgefield, Connecticut (early October 2026). Sarah lives with her husband in Connecticut.

Connect:

Contact: https://www.sarahbranson.com/

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

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

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

Spotlight: North Country by Sarah Branson

Four women, each with a secret. None will return from the North Country unchanged.

North Country takes place in the year 2372, a time when Earth is recovering from floods, fires, pandemics, and war. Amidst this post-apocalyptic world, the pirate nation of Bosch is thriving—but not without its complications. The focus is on four fierce women who must navigate their way through both external dangers and their own personal demons.

Master Commander Kat Wallace, haunted by a past filled with violence, takes on a dangerous mission to the North Country in search of peace.

Carisa Morton, struggling with her failing body and independence slipping away, embarks on one last adventure before it's too late.

Sergeant Flossie Porter hides a hidden family fortune and a deep infatuation with her commanding officer, putting everything on the line for the chance to be by her side.

Master Sergeant Diamond Miata, driven by ambition and beauty, will stop at nothing to advance her own agenda—even if it means testing her loyalty in the process.

As they trek through the barren land, each woman faces betrayal, desire, and the harsh truths of their own hearts. North Country is an exploration of strength, vulnerability, and the bonds that form between women in even the toughest circumstances.

Excerpt

Kat, February 8 1100

The four of us tramp along for three-quarters of a bell through the snow from where the Whydah is parked and camouflaged, following the old, wooded, water path. Our footsteps are muffled and our voices silent in the dim dawn. The cold stings my cheeks, and in my gloves, I pull my fingers from their assigned places to rub against my warm palms. The horizon, when the trees are clear enough to be seen, has the thin, chill, morning light of winter filtering about the soaring, craggy mountains that jut up and keep the villages near the lake isolated from the coastal folk and, let’s be honest, almost everyone else.

A deep inhale pulls the icy air inside of my nose, where it stings, but I can catch a hint of wood and coal smoke in the air. The fragrance brings a host of memories with it, and I’m actually surprised that not all of them are bad. Grandma Rina’s voice rings in my little girl ears: “Stick to the trails, my little Kitten, and always fill both your water jugs to the same level. It makes balancing them easier.” This recently unearthed memory lifts my spirits, and I shake my head a little as less pleasant ones try to push to the front to gain my attention. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, which is work, as through the night the snow has blown onto the path, and it almost feels like we are breaking a new trail.

We reach a small crossroad clearing that, while snow-covered, still shows the ruts from hand wagons having been pulled along over the years. I pull out the old compass that Teddy left me after he died and check our bearings. “Based on my memory and those old maps, we have about another bell-plus to reach the farm location.” My breath blows out in puffs of steam.

“Why didn’t the settlers build the village closer to the lake? Seems like a long way to trek for water before they dug wells.” Carisa has her academic inquiry voice on.

With a chuckle, I challenge her, “Oh, I think you know. Given what I’ve said about their superstitious nature…”

“A lake monster?” Carisa sounds giddy. “Oh, that is the stuff of great mythology.”

Sergeant Porter looks back, her brows creased. “Not a real monster, though, right?”

I grin and give the North Country answer. “Well, I ain’t never saw it myself, but I got a cousin who had a friend whose uncle was ’et up by it.” Flossie Porter looks horrified, and I laugh. “There’s two kinds of folk here in this village and the surrounds, Porter, the superstitious ones and the ones savvy enough to exploit the superstitious. Is there something big in Tassy? Maybe. Is it a monster? Doubtful? Will the story keep your kids from going too close to the lake? Absolutely. Will it guarantee a quiet meeting place for less than legitimate endeavors? Yes, ma’am, it will.”

Carisa is still staring back toward where the lake lies. “The Myths of the North Country.” She says wistfully, “I’d like to write that book.”

“Sounds like a fine idea. More of the research can happen on our next trip here.” Which will be just this side of absolutely never, I quip to myself. “For now, we should come to where the road veers off toward the farm location in another couple kilometers. Once we have established a base.” I point at the two BI troopers. “The two of you can head to the mountain. Carisa and I will continue our own fact-finding efforts.” I wink at my blonde friend as we start back on our journey through the snow.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Paperback

About the Author

Sarah Branson, an award-winning author, writes thrilling tales of action, adventure, and heart, often featuring strong female leads in sci-fi and dystopian settings. After nearly thirty years as a midwife, Sarah has channeled her experiences into stories about the strength of women in extraordinary circumstances. She believes that badass women will inherit the Earth—and that Earth will be better for it.

Website: https://www.sarahbranson.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sarah.branson.author

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

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