To save my job, I have to get an interview with a reclusive bestselling author who is impossible to find.

It's an insurmountable task until I get a lead. It's probably a joke but given what just happened in my personal life, it's an excuse to get away.

The last person I expect to see there is him, the dashing and mysterious stranger who was the only man who knew the truth that night.

He invites me inside under one condition: everything he says is off the record. He'll answer my questions but I can't write about him.

Then things get even more complicated.

Something happens between us.

His touch ignites a spark. His eyes make me weak at the knees.

We can't do this.

But then he looks at me in a way that no one has ever looked at me and I can't say no...

“Barbara Freethy delivers riveting, plot-twisting suspense and a deeply emotional story. Every book is a thrilling ride.” —USA Today Bestselling Author Rachel Grant 

“Barbara Freethy’s suspense novels are explosively good!” —New York Times bestselling author Toni Anderson

Ten years ago, I was seventeen, spending summers with my wealthy family and friends on Hawk Island. One terrible night, I blacked out. The next morning, my best friend, Melanie, was gone—vanished without a trace.

Today, I go back. To the island. To my sister's wedding. To a group of privileged people with whom I've never belonged. To my best friend's brother, a man who hates us all. To secrets that someone will kill to keep.

A storm is coming. A storm that will cut off the island from all hope of help. A storm that could allow a kidnapper to escape or a killer to murder again. A storm that will wash away all the lies and deception and reveal the true faces of All the Pretty People.

Will I be the next one to disappear?

Author Bio:

Barbara Freethy is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of 41 novels ranging from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and women's fiction. Traditionally published for many years, Barbara opened her own publishing company in 2011 and has since sold over 4.8 million copies of her books. Nineteen of her titles have appeared on the New York Times and USA Today Bestseller Lists. In July of 2014, Barbara was named the Amazon KDP bestselling author of ALL TIME! She was also the first indie author to sell over 1 million copies at both Barnes and Noble and Amazon. An author known for writing emotional stories about ordinary people caught up in extraordinary situations, Barbara has received starred reviews from Publishers' Weekly and Library Journal and has also received six nominations for the RITA for Best Single Title Contemporary Romance from Romance Writers of America. She has won the honor twice for her novels Daniel's Gift and The Way Back Home. 

Shop all Barbara Freethy books

In this second thriller in the bestselling WWII Trilogy, the Eternal City of Rome during the Nazi Occupation of 1943-1944 is a besieged city with four parties grappling for control: the Allies--represented by Captain John Bridger of the American-Canadian First Special Service Force--trying to capture Rome as the first Axis prize of war but encountering stiff opposition; the German Occupiers--represented by SS Colonel Wilhelm Hollmann, the German father of John Bridger--trying to throw the Allies back into the sea while holding Rome hostage and using it as a staging ground and supply line to the front; Pope Pius XII, codenamed the "Chief," deeply involved in the plot to remove Hitler from power while struggling to maintain Vatican impartiality, save Rome from destruction, and protect the city's Jews and others from extermination; and finally, the Partisans represented by Teresa Hollmann, daughter of Hollmann and half-sister of John Bridger, who during the Occupation is transformed from a passive member of Rome's aristocracy to an active Resistance fighter. Based on actual historical events and newly released OSS/CIA and KGB documents, Altar of Resistance recounts the long, hard struggle that led to the Allied liberation of Rome. Meanwhile, as the American and British Armies push towards the Eternal City, Rome's top secret agent--Pope Pius XII, leader of the Vatican's Church of Spies--orchestrates events behind the scenes in an attempt to thwart German oppression, overthrow the F hrer, and usher in a viable post-Hitler government.

"This book encompasses what every romance book should be." —Kristen Granata, author of What’s Left of Me

Get ready for an emotional ride filled with laughter, longing, and a sweet slow-burn in this sports romance about love’s power not in spite of difference, but because of it.

Ren

The moment I met her, I knew Frankie Zeferino was someone worth waiting for. Deadpan delivery, secret heart of gold, and a rare one-dimpled smile that makes my knees weak, Frankie has been forbidden since the day she and I became coworkers, meaning waiting has been the name of my game—besides, hockey, that is.
I’m a player on the team, she’s on staff, and as long as we work together, dating is off-limits. But patience has always been my virtue. Frankie won’t be here forever—she’s headed for bigger, better things. I just hope that when she leaves the team and I tell her how I feel, she won’t want to leave me behind, too.

Frankie

I’ve had a problem at work since the day Ren Bergman joined the team: a six foot three hunk of happy with a sunshine smile. I’m a grumbly grump and his ridiculously good nature drives me nuts, but even I can’t entirely ignore that hot tamale of a ginger with icy eyes, the perfect playoff beard, and a body built for sin that he’s annoyingly modest about.

Before I got wise, I would have tripped over myself to get a guy like Ren, but with my diagnosis, I’ve learned what I am to most people in my life—a problem, not a person. Now, opening my heart to anyone, no matter how sweet, is the last thing I’m prepared to do.

Always Only You is an opposites-attract, forbidden love sports romance about a nerdy, late-blooming hockey star, and his tough cookie coworker who keeps both her soft side and her autism diagnosis* to herself. Complete with a meddling secretary, tantric yoga torture, and a scorching slow burn, this standalone is the second in a series of novels about a Swedish-American family of five brothers, two sisters, and their wild adventures as they each find happily ever after.

*This is an #OwnVoices story for its portrayal of autism by an autistic author.

More Reviews:

"Always Only You is what contemporary romance CAN be, but seldom IS. Not only do we get a sweet and sexy love story...but we learn about compassion, the human condition, family ties, female friendships, and overcoming our fears." —Rate the Romance

"Forbidden romance, friends to lovers, slow burn, sports romance with own voices autism representation...I loved every single second of it." —Nothing Better Than a Book

"A fantastic follow up to Only When It's Us. Highly recommend!" —Lisa Becker, author of Starfish and Clutch 

"Chloe Liese does it again. Only When It's Us was one of my favorite reads of 2020, but Always Only You has taken its spot." —SpeedEReader

"Somehow, this book was even better than the first one...I have no idea how, since the first one rocked my world." —Kaitlyn's Librarian Life

"Frankie is the most interesting, fierce, multi-faceted heroine I've read this year...Ren is the answer to toxic masculinity." —A Grand Romance 

"Chloe portrays autism, disability, chronic illness, vulnerability and mental health in such a wonderful and truthful a way, shining a light on all the societal problems associated with it but also pointing out their positives and how they should be looked at instead." —Reading Moonlit Pages

"The author's walk with Autism brought this book to another level and it was absolutely lovely...their love story was believable and beautifully written." —What Jen Reads

"Chloe Liese is now an auto-buy author for me! I love how she leaves no character behind in her stories, no matter how small of a role they play." —Miss Book Reviews

"Well written, deeply developed, clever and funny." —Well Read Lexi

"The slow burn, forbidden love between them is both beautiful and hot." —Romance Reviewed

Author Bio:
Chloe writes romances reflecting her belief that everyone deserves a love story. Her stories pack a punch of heat, heart, and humor, and often feature characters who are neurodivergent like herself. When not dreaming up her next book, Chloe spends her time wandering in nature, playing soccer, and most happily at home with her family and mischievous cats.

“Riveting and consuming—I loved it and anxiously look forward to the next book in the series!” —Goodreads

After her third broken engagement, Gianna Campbell comes home to help with the family business and to heal her heart, only to realize that she has become the town joke—dubbed the runaway fiancé. If that wasn't bad enough, who should show up in town but her former crush Zach Barrington, a man who has other reasons to hate her.

Zach returns to Whisper Lake not only for a job opportunity but also for a chance at personal redemption. The last person he wants to see is Gianna, who once got him kicked out of the only place that made him feel whole. But when an accident sends her into the lake, their first face-to-face meeting in years leaves them both breathless.

And suddenly the past feels a lot closer...

Zach and Gianna back away as fast as they come together, both wary of more danger to their damaged hearts. But their search for a truth leads them to surprising secrets, life-changing revelations, heartbreaking emotion, and the chance for a love more powerful than they ever imagined. Can they trust each other the second time around?

Author Bio:

Barbara Freethy is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of 41 novels ranging from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and women's fiction. Traditionally published for many years, Barbara opened her own publishing company in 2011 and has since sold over 4.8 million copies of her books. Nineteen of her titles have appeared on the New York Times and USA Today Bestseller Lists. In July of 2014, Barbara was named the Amazon KDP bestselling author of ALL TIME! She was also the first indie author to sell over 1 million copies at both Barnes and Noble and Amazon. An author known for writing emotional stories about ordinary people caught up in extraordinary situations, Barbara has received starred reviews from Publishers' Weekly and Library Journal and has also received six nominations for the RITA for Best Single Title Contemporary Romance from Romance Writers of America. She has won the honor twice for her novels Daniel's Gift and The Way Back Home. 

Shop the Whisper Lake Series

Shop all Barbara Freethy books

”Sandra Wagner-Wright is an excellent storyteller with a natural flair for historical accuracy and powerful character development.” —Seattle Book Review

Great for fans of Jane Austen, Natasha Boyd’s The Indigo Girl, and Anya Seton’s The Winthrop Woman

Three Weddings – Two Rival Families

In 1735 Richard Derby, a ship’s master in colonial Salem, Massachusetts, married Mary Hodges, a merchant’s daughter. The alliance was good business, and Mary Hodges was a willing bride. Richard prospered, retired from the sea, and founded his own merchant house. With one exception, Richard’s sons went to sea. Hasket Derby stayed ashore, learning to manage the trading network his father built.

George Crowninshield was the youngest of four brothers. Three sailed for Salem merchants. Richard Derby enticed George to sail for him by matching George with his daughter Mary. George knew a good opportunity when he saw it. Mary wanted more than a house and children, but marriage was her only option. “Marry me,” George said. “Be my partner.”

Eliza Crowninshield set her cap for a husband who would bring her wealth and status. She craved a brick house superior to any other dwelling in Salem. She wanted to dress at the height of fashion and entertain lavishly. Hasket Derby needed a wife as ambitious as he was. He expected to lead the Salem business community and required a wife to complement his achievements. Together, they became the “First Family” of Salem.

Against the backdrop of tensions between Great Britain and her American colonies, George and Hasket built their trading empires. After Americans gained independence in 1783, their sons sailed everywhere trade took place from the West Indies to the Baltic Sea, from Isle de France to Batavia, India, and China.

Inspired by true events, this is the story of two rival families who made their fortunes in the new United States of America.

More Reviews:

"If you love Jane Austin, you will love Sandra Wagner-Wright…. Inspired by true events, this book is a must-read and suitable for all ages. Wagner-Wright has a unique gift to keep her audience captivated and makes it fun to learn." —Reader's Favorite

"This bold, decades-spanning historical novel from Wagner-Wright…centers on rival families in 18th century Salem, Massachusetts, set to forge an unlikely alliance via marriage to build upon their fortunes and travel the seas, as tensions rise between Great Britain and the American… [A] transportive historical novel of Colonial marriage, shipping, and life." —BookLife

"An elaborately detailed period piece packed with intriguing nuggets of history…. Wagner-Wright combines a well-researched history of the merchant shipping industry along the Eastern Seaboard of the United States...with vivid depictions...[and] a wealth of historical details." —Kirkus

"Author Wagner-Wright does an excellent job of conveying the social mores, class hierarchy, and dangers of the time—no matter how harsh they may seem to modern readers." —IndieReader

Author Bio:

Sandra Wagner-Wright holds the doctoral degree in history and taught women’s and global history at the University of Hawai`i. When she’s not researching or writing, Sandra enjoys travel, including a recent visit to Antarctica. She lives in Hilo, Hawai`i with her family and writes a blog relating to history, travel, and the idiosyncrasies of life. Ambition, Arrogance & Pride is Sandra's most recent novel. 

A Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestseller

“An enlightening, persuasive case for changing the status of Puerto Rico.” —BookLife

China’s Belt and Road initiative is on the way. Premier Xi’s agenda? For China to have unrestricted access to the rest of the world. At the focus is America’s last fortress, Puerto Rico, which sits primely at the southern entrance of the Caribbean from the Atlantic Ocean. The only way that China can exercise influence in Puerto Rico—and move freely around the globe—is if Puerto Rico becomes an independent nation.

Puerto Rico’s political process is in shambles and the island is now slipping toward independence. Author Alexander Odishelidze spent 30 years on decolonization with a preference for statehood. This is his firsthand account of the mistakes made during that process, and of the vested interests—both on the mainland US and in Puerto Rico—that fought to maintain the status quo. In the 1970s, independence drew less than 5 percent of the vote in Puerto Rico’s elections. During the last election, independence-leaning candidates received almost 50 percent of the vote.

The trend is away from statehood. And China is watching.

More Reviews:

“An impassioned, well-researched examination of Puerto Rico’s strategic importance to the U.S.” —Kirkus

“…a fascinating look not only into the issues facing this island but also into the complex nature of the political process that didn't turn out the way [Odishelidze] expected or anticipated. Before reading this, I have to admit that I hadn't given the status of Puerto Rico much thought. But thanks to this book, it is something that I am now more aware of and will be following more closely in the future.“ —San Francisco Book Review

“Enthusiasts of nonfiction political books will love America’s Last Fortress…. [A] front seat in Puerto Rico’s political arena [and] the role it plays and would play both politically and economically to the United States and China, and insight on Puerto Rico’s political future.” —Readers’ Favorite

Author Bio: 

A Russian/Georgian born in Belgrade, Serbia, Alexander Odishelidze survived the Nazi occupation of Yugoslavia and the Holocaust. Despite losing his family and being shipped to refugee camps in Europe, Odishelidze grew into a strong, intelligent, and driven man. Immigrating to America with no grasp of the English language, no friends, and only twenty dollars in his pocket, he was drafted into the US Army, where he trained in Alaska and became an expert skier.

After the Army, Odishelidze began his career in financial services and became the youngest ever general manager of a prestigious MONY financial services operation in New York City. In 1971, he opened an insurance and securities operation in Puerto Rico. It was later purchased by Aetna. He also formed Eba, Inc. in 1979, as a Puerto Rican-based consulting subsidiary, and in 2008, Omanagement, LLC, a US-based financial and political consulting firm.

As a guru in his field, Odishelisze writes columns, newsletters, and books on finance. He and his wife Odette Bouret spend their time between their homes in Florida, St. John, and Colorado.

"With a gripping plot, mind-blowing storytelling, and unpredictable twists, Amulet's Rapture is going to be among my top three favorites of this year." —Readers' Favorite

"One of the novel's most ambitious gambits is its richly atmospheric blending of supernatural elements into the broader story. The tale features ghosts, animal familiars, shapeshifters, and all kinds of spiritual communications, and Tanner's skill at interweaving these elements is shown by how seamless the whole process feels...This is a strong entry in Tanner's enjoyable series." —Kirkus Reviews 

Blood stains her Celtic home and kingdom. The warrior Druid princess will do anything to retake her kingdom. 

Although Catrin is the rightful heir to the Celtic throne in Britannia, she is lucky to be alive. After witnessing the slaughter of her family at the hands of her half-brother, who was aided by the Romans, she is enslaved by a Roman commander. He disguises her as a boy in the Roman Legion with the belief that she is an oracle of Apollo and can foretell his future. The sole bright spot in her miserable new life is her forbidden lover Marcellus, the great-grandson of the famed Roman General Mark Antony.

But Marcellus has been wounded and his memories of Catrin and their secret marriage were erased by a dark Druidess. Though Marcellus reunites with Catrin in Gaul and becomes her ally as she struggles to survive the brutality of her Roman master, he questions the legitimacy of their marriage and hesitates to help her escape and retake her kingdom. If their forbidden love and alliance are discovered, her dreams of returning to her Celtic home with Marcellus will be shattered.

More Reviews:

2020 The Coffee Pot Book Club Award, 5 Stars

"Tanner pens a compelling narrative, and she writes with imagination and a great deal of energy. This is a book that is triumphant in all ways. If you are looking for your next great historical fantasy series set within a realistic Roman backdrop, then look no further than Amulet's Rapture...Fans of Jez Butterworth's Britannia will fall in love with this book. I highly recommend." —Mary Ann Yarde for The Coffee Pot Book Club

"…readers who seek a strong romantic feel to their fantasies will appreciate Tanner's writing. She peppers her plot with just enough of these steamy scenes to keep romance fans invested." —Literary Titan (Gold Book Award) 

"The author, Linnea Tanner has done extensive research into Roman history, mysticism, anthropology, and religions. For those that had not read books 1 and 2, the author brings the story-line forward smoothly. I had read the previous two books, but it was good to have a little refresher. This trilogy is one of my favorite books of the year." —★★★★★ Reader Review

Author Bio:

Award-winning Author Linnea Tanner weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue into the backdrop of Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology which held women in higher esteem. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids. 

Depending on the time of day and season of the year, you will find her exploring and researching ancient and medieval history, mythology and archaeology to support her writing. As the author of the Curse of Clansman and Kings series, she has extensively researched and traveled to sites described within each book. 

A native of Colorado, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor's and master's degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.

Shop the Curse of Clansmen and Kings Series

The USA Today Bestselling author of The Waratah Inn series, Lilly Mirren, proves there's no place like Emerald Cove for the holidays.

Adele Flannigan wants a fresh start. She's moved back to the Cove to escape a failed affair and to repair her broken heart. When a handsome new resident in the small beachside village helps load a Christmas tree into her car, she realises there may be a chance for a Merry Christmas, after all.

Cindy's hosting Christmas, but the Flannigan family has changed in recent years and she's nervous about how things will go. There's been a divorce, new members added, stray dogs adopted, heartbreak, romance and even a brand new bouncing baby. Christmas at Cindy's has the potential to be a delightful family feast, or to set off fireworks that could ruin the entire holiday.

Can this blended family learn to love one another during the Christmas season or will their family be torn apart?

A big family Christmas may be just what the doctor ordered for these residents of Emerald Cove.

This is the fifth book in the Emerald Cove series.

A twist of fate has left Aidan MacWilliam, younger brother f a medieval Irish laird, trapped in the future. Though he's become a successful entrepreneur in the twenty-first century, Aidan still can't banish thoughts of the world he left behind. In search of distraction, he heads to New York to scout a publicity manager for his cousin's matchmaking firm, Celtic Connections.

Emmaline Perkins is the perfect candidate. A PR expert and closet medievalist, Emma has always put work before her social life. When her ex-fianc resurfaces and threatens her livelihood, her home, and ultimately her safety, a new client proposes an offer she can't refuse - a job, travel, and security.

As they fall for each other, Emma struggles to keep her professional and personal lives separate, but Aidan is determined to meld them together. When it's clear Emma's ex will stop at nothing to claim her, Aidan realizes that the question is not where she'll be safe, but when...

Grand Prize Winner in the 2017 Writer's Digest Book Awards.

September 11, 1973: Eleven-year-old Alejandro Penda watches from his apartment window as Santiago, Chile falls to a military coup, destroying his family and his childhood. Arriving alone in America, he's taken in by the Larks: a prominent family in the town of Guelisten. Though burdened by unresolved grief for his disappeared parents, he becomes fiercely loyal to the Larks, eventually marrying one of their daughters, Valerie.

September 11, 2001: Javier Landes watches from his apartment window as New York City falls to terrorism. As one of Manhattan's top-paid male escorts, this professional lover has never lacked for company and is loyal only to himself. But in the wake of 9/11, Jav is named guardian for an orphaned nephew in Guelisten and must open his carefully-guarded heart to emotions long suppressed.

Alex, Valerie and Jav meet first in their twenties, with a sudden attraction each finds strange and compelling. When they meet again in their forties, they discover not only is their bond still strong, but their life experiences are strangely similar. All have been shaped by separate 9/11's, and their unfinished business from the past will change everything they know about love, loyalty and friendship.

Across three decades and two continents, Suanne Laqueur's fifth novel explores the unpredictability of sexual attraction, how family ties are forged, torn and mended, and how love's downfall can turn to exaltation.

About the Author
Suanne, Laqueur: - A former professional dancer and teacher, Suanne Laqueur went from choreographing music to choreographing words. Becoming an avid reader, cook and gardener, she started her blog EatsReadsThinks in 2010 and published her debut novel, The Man I Love, in 2014. Her fourth novel An Exaltation of Larks was the grand prize winner in the 2017 Writer's Digest Book Awards and took first place in the 2019 North Street Book Prize. Laqueur graduated from Alfred University with a double major in dance and theater. She taught at the Carol Bierman School of Ballet Arts in Croton-on-Hudson for ten years, while working as a business analyst for Verizon. She now works in publishing and lives in Westchester County, New York with her husband and two children.

Midnight treasure hunts, fancy-dress parties, and a blue-blooded murder . . .

November, 1923. Olive's school chum, Gigi, invites Olive to London because Gigi's dotty grandmother fears for her life--or so she's said to Gigi. However Olive is surprised to find that the dowager is far from muddled. The sharp and imperious matriarch refuses to admit to her worries and sends Olive on her way.

Without a client or case, Olive is swept into the glittering lifestyle of the "fast set," and their decadent excess. But then among the cocktails and champagne, a murderer strikes during a frivolous party game, and Olive realizes the dowager's fears were well-founded.

Can Olive unmask the upper crust culprit before the party's over for a Bright Young Person?

An Old Money Murder in Mayfair is the fifth installment in the popular High Society Lady Detective series from USA Today bestselling author Sara Rosett. Join Olive and her dapper sleuthing partner, Jasper, as they navigate the extravagant parties of the Bright Young People as well as their own budding relationship . . .

About the Author
Rosett, Sara: - USA Today bestselling author Sara Rosett writes lighthearted mysteries for readers who enjoy atmospheric settings, fun characters, and puzzling whodunits. She loves reading Golden Age mysteries, watching Jane Austen adaptions, and travel. She is the author of the High Society Lady Detective historical mystery series as well as three contemporary cozy series: the Murder on Location series, the On the Run series, and the Ellie Avery series. Sara also teaches an online course, How to Outline A Cozy Mystery, and is the author of How to Write a Series. Publishers Weekly called Sara's books enchanting, well-executed, and sparkling. Sara loves to get new stamps in her passport and considers dark chocolate a daily requirement. Find out more at SaraRosett.com.

About the Author
Meg is a long-time nonfiction writer, most recently of The Minimalist Woman blog and its related self-help and cookbooks. She now focuses almost exclusively on fiction, and has written and published two mysteries, An Uncollected Death and An Unexamined Wife. A third, An Undisclosed Location, is slated for release in Summer of 2015. Meg has an MA in English. She lives in Northwest Indiana with her husband, writer and photographer Steve Johnson. .

About the Author
Meg is a long time nonfiction writer, most recently of The Minimalist Woman blog and its related self-help and cookbooks. She now focuses almost exclusively on fiction, and has written and published two mysteries, An Uncollected Death and An Unexamined Wife. A third, An Undisclosed Location, is slated for release in Summer of 2015. Meg has an MA in English. She lives in Northwest Indiana with her husband, writer and photographer Steve Johnson. Contact: megwolfewrites@gmail.com Web: megwolfe.com

Death stalks the guests at a seaside resort...

While staying at Brighton with the formidable old Mrs. Montford, Anna Fairweather witnesses a drowning. Suspecting the "accident" is something more sinister, Anna begins a search for the truth - and the killer.

Does a belligerent brother-in-law carry an old grudge? Is the victim's grieving husband a little too quick to move on? With an entire hotel full of suspects, Anna must uncover the secrets, and the motives, the hotel guests and employees are desperate to hide. But with the clock ticking, will Anna get to the bottom of the mystery - or find herself at the bottom of the ocean?

A portrait of death...

Anna has barely had time to settle in at the Montford town home in London, when she is drawn down a new path of danger. After she witnesses a stabbing in an alley, it's up to Anna to find the killer - before the killer finds her.

When suspects abound, Anna must delve into the art world and the personal life of the victim, searching for the truth. Will the reintroduction of her employer's attractive nephew, Jerome Townson, complicate matters? And will the stirring of old shadows from her past blind Anna to the dangers of the present?

At a 1921 garden party, murder is on the menu...

The sudden death of her employer sets loyal maid Anna Fairweather on a dangerous quest for justice. Discovering who killed the quarrelsome Colonel will require joining forces with the victim's attractive nephew, Jerome Townson, but is the charming Mr. Townson hiding darker motives than anyone guesses?

A formidable dowager, an incompetent Chief Constable, and a host of greedy relations become obstacles in Anna's search for the truth. Will the head butler and the other inscrutable household servants become her allies? Or will Anna face her ultimate fate - and a ruthless killer - alone?

Sometimes the simplest of choices can have the most devastating of consequences.
Sometimes falling in love can be a curse.
Sometimes being the hard man is the hardest job.

Hungary, 1949. George, Eva and Zoltan. Three people trying to live by the rules within a system that demands total obedience.

George, a rising star of Hungarian football, is told to throw a game. Faced with an impossible dilemma, George has to decide - to risk everything to fulfil his dream or, for the sake of his future, obey the rules.

Eva, reeling from the tragedy of losing her baby, Anastasia, falls in love at a time when love is fraught with danger.

Zoltan works for the secret police where having a heart is a sign of weakness. A torn man trying to suppress the good within him, his job takes him further and further from the things he values most.

Seven years later, in 1956, their destinies collide as Hungary erupts into revolution. Secrets can no longer be hidden as loyalties are pushed to the limit.

Set against the violent backdrop of suppression and revolution, Anastasia is a tale of people caught in the machinations of history, where the choices you make determine your fate. And at the heart of the novel, the unseen presence of Anastasia.

"Characters come alive -- you get into their heads. They are empathetic or cruel and heartless, but always interesting. There is the dark side of human nature as well as its opposite."

"Skilfully developed with a suspenseful plot which keeps the story moving."

"The characters are very human, and the descriptions of these tragic events make for an excellent read."

"Impactful. Heart-wrenching. An important read."

Rupert Colley is the founder, editor and writer of the bestselling 'History In An Hour' series of ebooks and audio, published by HarperCollins.

Historical fiction with heart and drama.

About the Author
Colley, Rupert: - "Rupert Colley was born one Christmas Day, which means, as a child, he lost out on presents. Nonetheless, looking back on it, he lived a childhood with a "silver spoon in my mouth" - brought up in a rambling manor house in the beautiful Devon countryside. It's been downhill ever since. He was a librarian for a long time, a noble profession. Then he started a series called History In An Hour, "history for busy people", which he sold to HarperCollins UK. Rupert now lives in London with his wife, two children and dog (a fluffy cockapoo) and writes historical fiction, mainly 20th century war and misery. Historical fiction with heart."

A forgotten treasure. An old foe. A present-day threat.

A coral restoration project at the East End of Grand Cayman unearths a relic lost to the sea for centuries. As dive boat operator, AJ Bailey, and her friend and mentor, Reg Moore, delve deeper into the 300-year-old mystery, a man Reg wished to never see again returns - along with his habit of stealing other people's treasures.

Anchor Point follows the early 1700s story of a young lad and his family as they fight to survive a Caribbean fraught with danger, from fierce storms to ruthless privateers, while in present day, AJ and Reg do their best to untangle an infamous tale from the Age of Sail.

Book 13 in the best-selling series returns AJ home to the Cayman Islands, and straight into the path of a ruthless man with a bone to pick.

“A lucidly described coming-of-age tale” about a young boy and three teenage sisters who have “a mysterious, almost mythic feminine glamour.” —Kirkus

"Linda Mahkovec discusses the importance of family, friends, hope, and love, in happy and difficult times. I would highly recommend this thought-provoking and memorable story for other readers!" —Linda's Book Obsession Blog

In this coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of the Vietnam War, a lonely boy finds acceptance when he spends the summer with a loving family with three beautiful daughters.

Twelve-year-old Joey Roland is sent away to family friends while his parents try to work things out. He’s eager to leave sadness and secrets behind in Chicago and head downstate to the small town of Greenberry, where the Vitale family awaits him. He thinks of their town as boyland—a world of bike riding, fishing, and going barefoot. Though initially shy of the teenaged daughters—Anne, Vita, and Beth—they welcome him into their lives of adventure, beauty, and dreams.

Joey especially bonds with the middle sister, Vita, and her all-or-nothing pursuit of an acting career. Joey's “there must be more” merges with Vita’s “I must make it happen” resulting in a magical summer where the town of Greenbury becomes the crucible for two desperate dreamers.

SCROLL FOR SAMPLE! 

Author Bio: 

Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.

Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.

Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.

Book Excerpt:

Prologue

Stage lights, glittering chandeliers, ornate balconies. Crimson brocade curtains and period costumes, a deafening applause. All the stuff of magic and dreams she had so loved.

Joseph’s eyes burned with pride as he watched his old friend and mentor, Vita Vitale, standing center stage bathed in adulation from the audience. Luminous. That was the word that kept coming to his mind. Tall and graceful, the stage lights casting a golden halo around her long auburn hair. She was as beautiful as ever. No. More so. She owned it now. When he knew her, she didn’t know who she was, what she had. She was just a bundle of adolescent yearnings with vague visions of her future.

“Vita!” “Brava!” “Vita!”

All around him the audience cheered her—Vita, Vicky, Victoria, Vi. The girl with all the names. Joseph rose to his feet with the others and continued to applaud. He smiled down at his wife, happy that she was finally encountering one of those three magical sisters he had told her about—Anne, Vita, and Beth. His work had taken him to the far-flung parts of the world, and he had lost touch with the family that had helped to shape him.

Now the gap of almost twenty years had, in an instant, closed on this New York City Broadway stage. And he saw that Vita had kept her promise.

There had been updates from his mother over the years, news that Vita had met with some success. But it wasn’t until recently, now that he was back in the States, that he understood just how successful Vita had become. An unexpected trip to New York City had him reaching out to all his contacts to help get tickets for the final night of her performance.

And now, there she was, the star of a play that had been written for her. He realized with a jolt how appropriate this role was, a play that reminded him of The Tempest. From high above—cliff tops, a tower, a balcony—she wielded her power. Vita—the girl who had been afraid of heights. The brave girl who had sought out the high places in her small, flat Midwestern town in order to conquer her fears.

The curtain briefly closed, and then reopened for another round of applause. The cast linked hands and took another bow. Calls of “Brava!” and “Vita!” continued from the crowd, flowers falling about her feet. Vita took a step forward, gathered up a large bouquet into her arms, and graciously swept a low bow. She placed one hand on her heart and let her eyes travel over the audience, as if thanking each person individually.

Joseph looked about him. They loved her. Wanted more of her. She had made them feel the weight of sorrow, the desperate longing for love, and the ultimate transformation—triumph after despair. They were grateful that she had confirmed hope and love, after loss and hopelessness. She had made them believe in themselves and in the magnificent beauty of life. They didn’t want this moment to end and clapped harder in hopes of prolonging the affirmation.

The crimson curtains slowly closed, and the brightness of the house lights increased. The audience became aware of themselves now, self-conscious of their clapping, of the awkward smiles that passed between people, of the desire to linger in the afterglow of the performance.

After several minutes, the applause lessened, and eyes left the stage. The closed curtains in the bright lights no longer held the universal and the wondrous. The show was over, the magic dispelled. The lights revealed the disarray of people gathering their coats and playbills, exiting the rows, commenting amongst themselves.

Joseph put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and kissed her hair. He saw other couples with arms linked, friends placing a gentle hand on an arm or shoulder, “after you” gestures allowing others to exit the rows—he laughed at himself. Was there really such kindness and gentleness? Or was he once again seeing her world vision?

“We must hurry if we want to catch her,” his wife said, pulling Joseph into the aisle.

They wove their way through the lobby and, once outside, fell in with the line of eager fans. As they waited, the crowd grew larger.

They stood close together in the crisp autumn night, trying to maintain their position by the police barricade that separated the star-struck crowd from the path Vita would take to sign playbills and smile for photographs. Across the street, Joseph saw a similar crowd burst into cheers as the star of that show greeted his fans.

Joseph’s eyes filled with worry. Perhaps she wouldn’t come. She should have been outside by now. When would he have another chance to see her—

His wife drew a sharp breath. “Here she comes! Oh, look at her.” She pulled Joseph a step closer. “Stand here. You haven’t seen her since she was fifteen and you were— what, ten, eleven?”

“I was twelve.” Joseph realized he sounded like a boy again.

“I wonder if she’ll recognize you.”

He shook his head. Of course she wouldn’t.

He could see her clearly now. Though close to twenty years had passed, he recognized the charm and beauty, the smile and determination—and, behind the gaze, the yearning. An unanswered hunger in her eyes. The quest always in the distance.

Joseph had his playbill ready. He overheard the comments from the crowd:

“Don’t worry, she’ll sign.”

“She always makes time for her fans.”

“She’s even more beautiful up close!”

Joseph inched forward. He felt like an overgrown groupie, but he wanted to see Vita face to face, to see if she might remember him.

She made her way down the line. Though she was tall, the crowd diminished her size. Outside, she was an ordinary mortal at the end of her workday.

Yet, there was also that element that made her different from everyone he had ever known. Something that set her apart. Something solitary, otherworldly. Both proud and vulnerable. A contrast that pulled you in. She had access to the world of magic and beauty, and like an alchemist, could transmute the ordinary into the extraordinary. But it came at a price. He saw the world weariness behind the smile and imagined that she desperately needed to be alone now—or was he projecting again? They were alike, after all.

Playbills were thrust forward as Vita’s name was called out. Her manager-husband shielded her from the pressing line of admirers and kept a protective hand on her shoulder, his eyes scanning the adoring crowd.

She was close now and Joseph’s heart beat faster at her nearness. Would she recognize him?

The woman next to him extended her playbill. “To Debbie, please.”

As Vita signed, the woman bounced on her toes in excitement. “Oh, thank you! You were just wonderful! Can I take a picture with you? My sister won’t believe me otherwise.” Vita nodded as the woman twisted sideways so her friend could snap a photograph. “Thank you!”

Joseph leaned forward and offered his playbill.

Vita took it. “How shall I sign?” Her face lifted in a quick smile at him.

His heart sank. Of course, she wouldn’t recognize him, after so many years. She posed for a few cameras, poised her pen, and asked again. “To . . .?”

Joseph swallowed. “To—D’Artagnan.”

Vita’s head snapped up and her eyes flashed. “Joey!” She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him.

“Oh, Joey!” Her embrace tightened. “Let me look at you!”

Tears shot to his eyes as she said his name. There she was, his old small-town, ordinary friend. Smiling her familiar smile.

“Hello, Vita. You were brilliant!” He took his wife’s hand. “My wife—Souad.”

“Your wife!” Vita embraced her as well. “So pleased to—”

Vita’s husband leaned forward to shake Joseph’s hand. “So this is D’Artagnan! How nice to finally meet you. I wasn’t sure you really existed.”

Joseph flooded with happiness. She had talked about him? His head turned from Vita to her husband to Souad as they all talked over one another.

“Oh, how I wish we could visit—” said Vita.

“But we leave for London in a few hours,” finished her husband. “The show opens in the West End next week.”

Vita clasped Joey’s hands. “Mom sent us photographs from your Moroccan series. They were magnificent!” Her eyes locked on Joseph’s in pride.

“They hang in our London apartment,” said Vita’s husband. “National Geographic!” “That’s—”

“Please sign,” a young woman said, snapping a photo and handing Vita a playbill.

Vita’s husband shrugged in amusement at the demanding fans. “We must get together. Soon.”

Vita looked up from signing and placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Give him—”

But he was already handing his business card to Joseph.

Vita squeezed their hands in goodbye as she was pushed and pulled down the line. “Call us! We simply have to—” Her words were lost but she kept turning her head back, seeking Joseph, as if convincing herself that he was really there.

In a flash, he remembered her old word. “You were wondrous!” he called after her, and was rewarded by a sweet smile—the shy smile he knew so well, not the professional smile of the actor.

As she signed and posed, her eyes kept searching for him in the crowd.

“She’s just as you said, Joseph!” Souad linked her arm with his and craned her neck to keep Vita in sight.

He followed Vita with his eyes. He was filled, once again, with visions of the world as beguiling and beckoning, and the wild desire to set off on a quest.

He wrapped his arm around his wife. “I knew she’d make it.”

Souad reached up to kiss his cheek. “Just as she knew you would.”

Vita stood tall, scanned the crowd, and found him one last time. Their eyes locked and she gave the old nod of collusion—and waited, just a moment, to see if he would remember.

He broke into a smile at their old “handshake,” their unspoken pact that nothing would get in their way. Their “I will, if you will” bond. He nodded back.

He filled with all the things he wanted to say. That it was she who planted the seeds of hope in him. She who believed in the part of him that was bold and brave and adventurous. She who convinced him that nothing was more important than playing an active role in this wild and wonderful world.

Joseph watched the crowd as it closed around her and her magic. The glittering lights of the theater marquees doubled in brightness for the Night Queen. Or perhaps it was tears of joy that blurred his vision.

Seeing her again had conjured up the past, and he remembered—as if it were just yesterday—that summer.

The summer he learned to dream.

Chapter 1

This was why he didn’t like Chicago. The train station so crowded you couldn’t see anything. Just a swirl of people, brushing and bumping against him as he stood next to his parents. His dad reluctant to hand over the small suitcase.

His mother leaned over one more time to kiss his cheek, smooth his hair, and straighten his collar. “You be good. And call us the moment you arrive.” She handed him the sack lunch she had made.

Joey wished she hadn’t stayed up late baking cookies for him. Her face looked strained, as if she hadn’t slept.

They moved closer to the train.

“You brought your books?” his father asked.

Joey patted his jacket.

“You have a good time,” his mom said. “Play with the neighborhood kids. Remember, the girls are older now and have jobs and boyfriends.”

Joey nodded. “I won’t bother them.”

“And remember, Victoria—as she’ll always be to me—now goes by Vita.”

Joey added that to his list of things to remember.

His father gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Everything will be all right, son. We just need a little time to work some things out. That’s all. And in the meantime, you’ll be with your friends, having all kinds of adventures. And the girls . . . What did you used to call them? The Petticoat Junction sisters?”

Joey shrugged. “I don’t know.” He reached for the suitcase.

“Take care, son.” His father’s voice broke.

Joey’s eyes darted around his dad’s face, looking for an answer. Inside, he said, Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, not sure if he meant him or his dad.

“ALL ABOARD!” came the conductor’s long up-reaching cry.

The people in line began to make their way onto the train, waving goodbye, giving a few final embraces. Joey turned around and hugged his mother. “Sorry, Mom.”

“Nonsense. This will be good for you. A little break is all you need. We’ll—we’ll . . .”

“Call when you get there, son.” His father lurched forward in an awkward embrace.

“I will. Bye, Dad.” His eyes began to burn and he squeezed them shut. For one safe moment, he let himself sink into the comfort of his dad’s chest. Then he broke apart and boarded the train.

Joey turned to the left and walked down the aisle behind the other passengers. Midway, he found an empty row. He stashed his suitcase on the overhead rack and sat at the window.

There was his dad, standing marooned, his shoulders pulled down by heavy rock hands. A pasted-on smile that matched his mom’s.

She touched a hankie to her nose, raised her hand, lifted her head.

Joey waved back. Please don’t cry.

Then, in a gesture Joey would always remember—because it was so unfamiliar—his dad draped his arm around his mom’s shoulder. They stood smiling with worried eyes, looking like cardboard-cutout parents that he didn’t recognize.

He became aware of the shuffling all around him as people took their seats. A quick reassuring glance out at his parents. He waved again. And again. They hadn’t budged.

Joey’s hand tightened on the armrest when the train began to move, leaving his parents behind. A final wave, in case they were still looking, in case they could still see him.

He leaned back and released his clutch on the sack lunch, keeping his eyes fixed on the back of the seat ahead of him. Like gazing into a deep black pool that had no reflection. It grew deeper and darker.

He rubbed away the vision and raised his head above the seats, looking in front of him and then behind.

He didn’t see any other kids on the train—none by themselves anyway. He had never traveled alone before. He felt a little older. Like he was already thirteen and had been for a long time.

People were settling in, putting bags and suitcases on the overhead rack, then deciding that they needed a jacket or book that was packed, and getting settled again.

Across from him, two older ladies arranged their knitting projects on their laps. One had a ball of pale pink yarn. The other had shades of blue.

Behind them, two men with Afros were talking about ’Nam. Twisting in their seats, spitting mad. Saying it wasn’t their war. Joey’s next-door neighbor in Chicago, Tony, also had to go to Vietnam. He gave Joey his football pennant when he left. It had felt like a goodbye gift. Maybe it was.

One of the men shot his eyes to Joey and raised his chin.

Joey leaned back in his seat, realizing that he had been staring.

He wanted to tell them that he hoped they would come back. That they wouldn’t get hurt. That’s what he had told Tony. But once the words were out of his mouth, he wished he had thought of something better to say.

Joey looked at the seat back again. In six years or so, it would be his turn to go to war. And who knew if he would come back.

People from the train car behind his were pushing the doors open, hoping to find seating together. He was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he would have the whole seat to himself.

No such luck. He moved his jacket to his lap as a large man claimed the seat beside him. Joey looked up at him, ready to give a smile, but the man wasn’t interested in being friendly.

Joey leaned his head back. They were outside the station now. A fine drizzle on the window obscured his view.

The conductor made his way from seat to seat, waddling with the rhythm of the train. Joey lifted his ticket and tried another smile, but the conductor didn’t feel like being friendly either. He punched Joey’s ticket and continued down the aisle.

Joey wondered if his parents were out of the station by now. Were they seated in their car yet? Were they talking on their way back home? Or sitting quietly, deep in their faraway worlds.

After chugging along, the train picked up speed. The drizzle blew sideways in little streaks and cleared the window somewhat, revealing the wide railyard and the world outside. The pale morning air looked sooty. Like some kid had chosen a gray crayon and colored the world blah. His stomach tightened as he gazed out at the rails and tracks converging and splitting off to countless destinations. If the train broke down and he had to get out, he would be lost for sure. This time, without any idea of how to get back home. Broken bottles and papers littered the tracks. Farther away, industrial warehouses and sad-looking buildings leaned against the gray sky. Not a speck of color anywhere. He shut his eyes against the dizzying pull of so many different directions, glad he was going to one place. One very specific place where it would be hard to get lost once he was there.

He rubbed his eyes. They felt grainy from barely sleeping last night. “Don’t bother the girls,” his mother had said as she packed his suitcase. “They’re four years older since the last time you saw them. Teenagers now. Play with the neighborhood boys. And help Sal with his garden.”

“I will.” He would try not to get in anybody’s way. His parents had talked late into the night, this time in soft voices. The one time he wanted to hear them, he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

They were sending him away for the remainder of summer. Alone for the first time in his life. Shipping him off. Dumping their problem on someone else. Joey folded his arms. For the rest of July and all of August, he would be far away from home.

And he was glad.

Anything was better than the arguments. Sitting in his room. Waiting for it to be over. Trying to read. Sometimes covering his ears. Pretending to be asleep at night. His dad sitting with his head in his hands. His mom staring out the window while tears rolled down her cheeks. Was it really so hard to get along? Sometimes he wished they would get a divorce. Just to make it end. But then—he didn’t want to be without either one of them. It was at such times that he wished he had a brother. Or sister. A big family.

He twisted angrily in his seat and stared at the passing world. Shoving him off to his mom’s old friend so he wouldn’t be in the way while they probably got divorced. Then what? Or more likely, they would move somewhere. Again. They had moved many times—three towns or cities that he could remember. Four different houses. It always seemed to help for a little. He bounced back and forth between anger and sadness and just plain old feeling lost in it all.

He looked out the rain-streaked window again. The same sad buildings were still there—as if they had moved along with the train. Making their escape. Or maybe they just went on forever.

The train was speeding along now. The wooden ties and rails ran on and on, a low heartbeat throbbing beneath the wheels. Now and then the long, sad wail of the train whistle sounded above the heartbeat. It was comforting, somehow. Like it was on his side. It was comforting to be moving. Going somewhere. Anywhere.

He pulled up the collar to his jacket, tucked his head between the seat and wall, and closed his eyes. His body rocked with the rhythmic rumble of the train. The fatigue of the past few days took over, and he gave into a deep, welcoming sleep.

Shop all Linda Mahkovec books

What's done in the dark will be brought to the light...

The silhouette stood at the edge of the woods like a spider watching a fly enter its carefully crafted web. Only a few more steps and she'd be within its grasp.

Stacy Shaw has her whole life ahead of her. New job, new house and now a baby on the way--everything she's ever hoped for is finally coming true. But on a warm summer night on the way home from work, she vanishes. The police race to find her, but the clues don't add up. Conflicting facts emerge as her story twists and turns, sending the trail spiraling in all directions.

A hometown hero with a heart of gold, Jack Stratton was raised in a whorehouse by his prostitute mother. Jack seemed destined to become another statistic, but now his life has taken a turn for the better. Determined to escape his past, he's headed for a career in law enforcement. When his foster mother asks him to look into the girl's disappearance, Jack quickly gets drawn into a baffling mystery. As Jack digs deeper, everyone becomes a suspect--including himself. Caught between the criminals and the cops, can Jack discover the truth in time to save the girl? Or will he become the next victim?

Grab your copy of this brand new novel in the highly-acclaimed, wildly-popular Detective Jack Stratton Series and start reading this electrifying whodunit today

And Then She Was Gone is part of the Detective Jack Stratton Mystery Series, which has more than 3,000+ five-star reviews and over a million readers and counting. If you love a page-turning thriller with mystery, humor, and romance, pick up And Then She Was Gone today.

"The sound mystery brims with red herrings" --Kirkus Reviews

Novels featuring Detective Jack Stratton are all standalone and can be read in any order:
And Then She Was Gone
Girl Jacked
Jack Knifed
Jacks Are Wild
Jack and the Giant Killer
Data Jack

About the Author
Greyson, Christopher: - Christopher Greyson is a bestselling author of mystery, action, and thriller novels. His acclaimed Detective Jack Stratton Series has been read by over a half-a-million readers and counting. This action-packed series has a broad appeal, finding favor with mystery, thriller, and romance readers alike. The series includes Girl Jacked, Jack Knifed, Jacks Are Wild, Jack and the Giant Killer, and Data Jack. And Then She Was Gone, the next new book, will be released October 1st, 2016 with Jack of Hearts to follow. Christopher Greyson has also penned the successful epic fantasy Pure of Heart. Greyson's love of mystery and adventure began with his grandfather, a World War I decorated hero. He will never forget being introduced to his grandfather's friend, a WWI pilot who flew across the skies at the same time as the feared legendary Red Baron. Since he was a little boy, Christopher Greyson dreamt of what mystery was around the next corner, or quest lay over the hill. If he couldn't find an adventure, one usually found him! Now he weaves those tales into his stories. Christopher Greyson's educational background is an eclectic mix of degrees in Computer Science, Theatre and Communications. He resides in Massachusetts with his lovely wife, Katherine Greyson, author of the bestselling romance-mystery series Everyone Keeps Secrets and their two wonderful children, Laura and Christopher. Please visit ChristopherGreyson.com where you can message Christopher Greyson. He enjoys hearing from his readers. Sign up for his newsletter, join in the Detective Jack Stratton discussion on the blog, enter the giveaways and win prizes like a HD Kindle Fire Tablet! Follow Detective Jack Stratton on Twitter @chris_greyson and Facebook https: //www.facebook.com/ChristopherGreysonAuthor.

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away—oh, sorry, that’s another story. But it could be this one, too. Could be the beginning of a lot of stories. All stories, really. But actually the galaxy isn’t far, far away, because nothing is far, far away, really…everything is just a thought away. Everything.

So in this galaxy that isn’t very far away after all is a very large room. Very large. Emphasis on very. And large. Oh, you wouldn’t believe the love and dedication that fills this room! This room spreads on for miles and miles and miles in every direction. You can’t even see its walls. But more about the room itself in a little bit. Right now we’re standing in front of an office. The sign on the office door reads MANAGER, ANGELIC AFFAIRS— which makes no sense at all, really, because everything, everywhere would fall under the category of affairs of angels. And we’d all be managers managing them. But anyway….

Henry, a plump, balding angel sits behind his large, angelificial desk. Now you might wonder why this angel would choose to be plump and balding and sitting behind a large, angelificial desk when he can choose to be anything, anywhere. Well, what do you think of when you see a plump, balding man? Wasn’t your favorite uncle like that? How about your favorite, old art teacher in that frumpy, navy-blue cardigan with the frayed elbows? And didn’t you just want to throw your arms around him in a big, sloppy bear hug? Well, that’s why Henry chooses to be plump and balding, and why anyone would choose to be plump and balding—because it’s all a choice. All of it, every last bit—it’s a choice. Maybe the choice isn’t made consciously, top-of-mind, but it’s made. Not sure how many big, sloppy bear hugs Henry, your uncle, or that old art teacher actually got, but I’m sure lots of folks thought about it.

Now as for sitting behind his desk, that’s another choice, because, as you now well know, anyone can be anything, anywhere. But Henry chooses to sit behind his large, angelificial desk to be of high service. And since he is a very organized angel and loves being an Angelic Resources Manager (you know, like the best Human Resources Manager in the best organization you ever worked for?), that’s what he chooses. And he chooses the angelificialness of his angelificial desk to weed out the ones who don’t really mean it. The chaff from the wheat. The angels from the, well, angels. Okay, the less-than-dedicated angels from the highly dedicated angels.

Henry looks to be about sixty-five—in Earth Time. Sitting in front of him is Brooke. Now Brooke is what you might picture an angel to look like...if an angel could be of Northern European descent, anyway: long, blond hair and big, blue eyes that soak in the worlds around her. She appears to be about twenty-five in Earth Time. But really, she’s as old as the universe. And so are you, by the way. Put in that perspective, you’ve been holding up very well. It’s truly amazing how wonderful everyone looks, considering.

Do angels have wings? Well, they do if they want to. Brooke and Henry don’t have them, nor do any of the angels in our story here, but many an angel or two have donned a pair of wings for that special occasion or two or eighteen million when they wanted to look especially angelic.

“Why would you want to do this?” Henry demands of Brooke. “It’s the hardest job in the universe!”

“It’s all you hear about,” Brooke answers, “all over every single galaxy: Earth, Earth, Earth. I figure if I can’t get in as a human, I could try it this way.”

“These humans can be as thick as wood. And just as pliable.” Henry looks at her over the top of his bifocals. Angels sometimes wear bifocals when they want to have that professorial look, too, just like humans. “Why don’t you go to Arcturus and just be content with peace, love, and instant manifestation?”

“This is what I want. More than anything in the entire universe.”

Henry sighs. “Alright then. Follow me. It’s not like we couldn’t use a willing volunteer down there.” But he smiles to himself, as if at some joke.

Henry leads Brooke out the door and through a tiny part of that seemingly infinite room. In thousands upon millions upon billions of cubicles, thousands upon millions upon billions of angels sit at their computer desks in groups of three, sometimes four, and sometimes two groups of three or four sitting side by side with numerous monitors in one bigger cubicle. The room has a distinct thrum as it hums with the voices of these thousands upon millions upon billions of angels. If you heard this thrum, you’d realize that, well, you do hear this thrum. All the time. The Earth has this thrum, the galaxies have this thrum, the universe has this thrum, and you have this thrum. The thrum is everywhere, resonating in one universal harmonic.

At first glance, a first-timer—which would be you— might think that the room’s vibrant radiance comes from the monitors and other external light sources. But a second glance would inform you that the monitors are actually somewhat dim and there are no other light sources. Oh, what love and devotion in billions of angels can do. Just imagine what love and devotion in seven billion—well, we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.

Henry and Brooke pass two angels conferring over their computer monitors while the third in their triumvirate whispers softly into a microphone.

“No, no,” one angel says to the other. “You can’t have them meet yet. They’re supposed to have a child that’s going to be the Senator of Tennessee in 2067, and they can’t conceive her until after the accident, which can’t happen for another two years.”

Brooke looks at Henry in surprise. If she were one of your teenagers, I believe she would be saying, “WTF?”

Before Henry can say anything, the second angel answers the first: “Okay, let’s send this schlub along. That’ll keep her occupied for a little while.”

The first angel appears shocked. “Schlub?”

“Okay, okay,” the second angel replies, somewhat abashed, “a drop of divinity cleverly disguised as a schlub.”

Brooke again turns to Henry. “They do this while their assignment sleeps?”

“Right. Their assignment is obviously a late sleeper. Could be a hooker.” And then, to the surprise on her face, “Not to worry, it’s all good. It’s all a divine path.”

He leads Brooke past a closed office door. RAINDANCERS, the elaborate sign announces.

“Raindancers?”

“Oh,” Henry shakes his head, “you’d be amazed at how many humans want to rain on their own parade, keep worrying about nonsense, look at the bad side of anything. Raindancers only perform when asked, but they are in hot demand. You want to be extra busy, sign up for Raindancing.” And to her still-surprised expression, he adds, “It’s all good.”

Henry and Brooke continue walking and arrive at a bank of elevators. While Henry presses the down button, Brooke notices a very serious angel nearby, closely watching graphs and trends appear on his computer screen. His piercing blue eyes, which peer out from under hooded eyelids, look like they belong in a bird of prey, not in an angel.

“What’s his gig?”

Henry puts his fingers to his lips, imploring that she keep her voice down. “Karmic enforcer,” he whispers. “A job nobody wants. They have to recruit from the dark side.”

“Dark side? There’s no such thing!”

“Tell him that. Anyone in creation can believe anything he or she wants to and create that reality.”

“But—”

“And he’s found a lot of people on Earth willing to participate in that reality.”

“Yuck!”

Henry leans close to Brooke’s ear. “Don’t tell him this, or the humans who want to participate, but karma can be changed the instant the intent to change it is there.” Henry stops for a moment to consider what he just said. “Actually, no, my mistake—your job is to tell humans that. It’ll save them a lot of time. If they can hear you, that is.”

Ping! The elevator arrives and they hop aboard. Out of two hundred and fifty buttons with different codes, letters, and numbers, Henry locates E.

“E for Earth,” he tells her. “But it’s not too late to choose A for Arcturus or S for Sirius.”

“I’m good with E,” Brooke responds.

“Just double-checking.” Henry presses the E button and turns to Brooke. “Love and remember. Love and wake up. That’s all these humans have to do. And you’d be amazed how many mountains they put in their own way.”

The elevator departs from the enormous angelic hall—okay, it’s really part elevator, part rocket ship—and shuttles across the galaxies. Brooke gasps as the beautiful blue orb of Earth appears through the window. “Oh!”

“Beautiful, isn’t it? One of the finest creations in the universe. And they insist on decimating it, even though they have alternatives.”

The shape of North America appears in the window, and in just a matter of seconds, California appears to be rushing up to meet them.

“But they’ll get it,” Henry assures her. “That’s their job—to get it—and they have eternity.”

“They do?”

“If not here, somewhere. But it would be a shame to waste this incredible creation. Do what you can about that, okay?”

“Absolutely.” Brooke gasps again as the Southern California coast is now right beneath them.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yeah!”

“What?”

“Yeah!”

“What?”

“YES!”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You sure you’re sure?”

“I’m SURE I’m sure!”

THUD! The elevator lands on E. The elevator door opens and Brooke is too surprised even to gasp. They have landed in a small patch of grass by the 405 Freeway, somewhat near the Los Angeles airport. The trees, leaves, and grass shimmer and radiate with their own internal light. From Brooke and Henry’s vantage point, the veil has been lifted, and bending over every single blade of grass is an angel whispering, “Grow! Grow! Grow! Thank you for being here. You are so

loved. You are such a blessing. You are a miracle.”

As Brooke looks up and down the freeway, she sees more and more areas of grass, and she marvels at the amazingly stunning sight of more and more angels becoming visible to her.

The freeway is completely clogged. The cars are lit up by the light of the human occupants inside of them. But the exhaust from each car and the smog that hangs over the city seems to move, even dance, in a demonic way.

“What—what are they doing to themselves? Can’t they see what they’re doing?”

“It’s just wild how much denial humans can put themselves in. All of some can see, and part of the others can see, but they suppress it. It’ll be part of your job to help all of all of them see.” To Brooke’s confused expression, Henry adds, “You’ll see what I mean, all in good time.”

He gently takes her by the arm, and they float over the cars. “We landed a little too far east,” he tells her. “We have to cross over the freeway to that neighborhood over there.” The houses he points to are barely visible through the thick smog.

Brooke becomes aware of something that sounds like a beehive. And the beehive is growing louder and louder. As they glide over the freeway, she peers through the car windows. Inside each vehicle, accompanying but completely unbeknownst to the humans, are three angels—two are sitting beside their human and the third is in the backseat consulting a laptop computer.

A seriously suntanned man with a seriously bad hairdo shakes his fist out the window of his BMW to the driver that just cut him off.

“Goddamn son of a bitch! Where in the world did you learn to drive—on a farm?”

“Actually,” Henry chuckles to Brooke, “the answer to that is yes.”

They float over the car next to the boorish Beamer driver to find a woman who appears to be very composed—almost as if she’s about to step onto a ballroom dance floor. But inside her head, her thoughts are going a mile a minute.

“Oh, why didn’t I tell him what I really wanted to say? Why did I say what I said? What was I thinking? Should I call him and tell him what I really wanted to say? Oh, how could I have done that? What should I do?”

“Ouch!” Brooke winces, although she can’t feel pain. But she feels compassion—that’s her job. “That must hurt!”

“Oh, yes,” Henry sighs, “it does. Quite a bit. Takes most of ’em a long time to learn that—if they ever do, that is.”

The beehive, Brooke realizes, is really the cacophony of millions upon millions of thoughts drifting up to her.

Brooke and Henry float over the next car, where the driver is singing to his dashboard. “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt!”

They float over the next car, where the driver is doing the exact same thing. “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt.”

Puzzled, Brooke turns to Henry. “That sounded a little different.”

“He was singing in Japanese. But you can understand everything, everywhere.”

“Why aren’t their angels talking to them, any of them?” Brooke asks.

“How in the world could they hear their angels if their minds are so overly overactive?”

They float over another car and no thoughts float up to them.

“She must’ve meditated this morning,” Henry answers Brooke’s quizzical look. “And every morning for the past thirty years.”

Brooke notices the woman has four angels sitting in meditation around her. “So why aren’t her angels talking? They could get through to her.”

“No need,” Henry replies. “She’s on her right path. They speak to her from time to time just for a touch of guidance and reassurance.”

One of the angels opens one eye to look at the graphs on her laptop and then returns to her meditation. One of the other angels breaks from his meditation to address the woman: “Thank you for all that you do. You’re such a blessing.” As the woman smiles, the angel returns to his meditating.

“See?” Henry says to Brooke. “Actually, every single person on Earth has an angel who says that, over and over, when he or she can get through all the noise of the TV, radio, and the human’s own thoughts. But, even then, so few hear it.”

They float over another car with two people inside and six angels accompanying them. The radio is blaring loudly. The angels have their hands over their ears.

Brooke notices one lone angel over one lone blade of grass growing through a crack in the concrete by the freeway.

“Grow! Grow! Grow!” whispers the angel. “You’re a miracle. Thank you for being here. You’re such a blessing to us all.”

They float over the freeway wall, and Brooke sees an entirely different world as they glide down an attractive, tree-lined street of lovely, little homes with tidy, freshly mowed yards and well-tended gardens. Henry leads her to one particular house with requisite tidy yard along with innumerable angels talking to each blade of grass, each flower, even each leaf on a shrub.

“When it gets too much,” he tells her, “just fade them. You’re not even seeing all the dimensions. Even I don’t, when I can avoid it. It’d make you crazy if you did. But if you do want to see other dimensions, just choose. The choice is always there.”

The angels in the yard fade away as Brooke makes that choice.

The two voyagers float into the house. A pile of shoes greets them and piles of who-knows-what line the foyer. They float down the hallway and into a large family room off the kitchen. Now if you had just walked into the room, you would see a man playing with his young son and a woman potatoing on the couch to an early-morning quasi-news show. And if you could see like an angel, you would see the three humans and nine other beings in the room—a committee of three angels for each human. And that’s not counting the angels for the plants around the room, who are working even more intensely because their charges haven’t been watered in weeks.

Jack. Ohhhhh, Jack. He’s the man playing with the little boy. Yikes—you just want to grab him by those tightly hunched shoulders and shake him loose! The only thing tighter than his clenched fists is his jawline. Jack could be very handsome if he weren’t so sad. And even if you weren’t particularly sensitive, and even if it was a rare moment when Jack had a smile on his face,

you’d still know he’s sad. You could feel it, even across the room. If you were to take one look at him, you’d probably want to close your eyes so you could reenvision him as a strong, beautiful, powerful man—what he could be, perhaps what his original blueprint depicted about thirty-five years ago.

“But it’s kind of like someone came along and deflated the balloon of his being,” Brooke says.

“If someone else actually has that power,” Henry replies. “Which no one does.”

Three angels surround Jack: Christopher, Sapphire, and Blake. Your quintessential computer geek, Christopher wears glasses over his sharp, black eyes (yes, as you probably already surmised, angels wear glasses, too, when they want to proudly present that intellectual look). His ebony skin contrasts against his red and blond Mohawk—even angelic geeks like to sport that alternative look from time to time. Christopher constantly studies his laptop to watch graphs, analyze trends, make mental notes from the running tick of information gathered from all corners of the universe, and calculate statistics. On occasion, he looks up from his computer, but it has to be quite the occasion—which you know will happen because you certainly wouldn’t be reading a book about a non-occasion. But basically picture an angelic actuarial services analyzer albeit from the very hip part of town, and Christopher’s your guy...well, your angel.

Sapphire whispers into Jack’s ear. She’s the sweet librarian type—you remember that truly great librarian, the one you wondered about and asked your friends if they thought she had a life? At least a life that didn’t involve reference desks and card catalogs? Or for those of you younger ones who have never researched away from the Internet and are wondering what in creation a card catalog could possibly be, picture instead a woman who loves to look on her computer to see what wisdom is found where. At any rate, this librarian from your hometown library just loved researching things and helping you find information. She was born to work in a library, and you thought, wow, it’s really good we’re all interested in such different things, so it all gets taken care of. (And yes, everyone thought she had a very boring life, but oh how wrong they were—you wouldn’t believe the life she had!) Behind Sapphire’s thick glasses and tightly wound bun, she is actually very, very beautiful.

They’re all beautiful. Honestly, have you ever seen an ugly angel? Or, if you’ve never seen an angel, have you ever imagined an ugly one? Impossible. Just like humans. Maybe there are some less-than-attractive humans, but most are pleasant looking. A small percentage fall in the absolutely-breathtakingly-beautiful category and an even smaller percentage fall in the far-less-than-absolutely-breathtakingly-beautiful category. But they’re all beautiful—all angels, all humans. You know what we mean.

Sapphire’s job is to whisper continuously in Jack’s ear, which is exactly what she’s doing now. And what does she whisper? A compendium that goes something like this: “Jack, you are so beautiful. You are loved. You are a blessing. Thank you for being here. Thank you for blessing us. Jack, you are such a wonderful being. Jack, you are loved. You are so dear. You are such a blessing. Thank you for all that you do.”

Well, you get the idea. Everyone, everywhere on Earth, has an angel whispering to him or her like that. So why isn’t life a steady stream of perfection? Because very few can hear these words. But that’s starting to change, at least here and there.

Next to Christopher and Sapphire stands Blake. Remember your favorite high-school coach? Well, he probably was very Blake-like. “Atta boy,” or “Atta girl,” he’d say to you when you did a particularly good maneuver on the playing field. Or, if sports were not your thing, he’d say, “Nice try, kid.” And you’d know that while he didn’t understand how in the world sports weren’t first and foremost in your every thought, he really could tell you tried, and he sure did appreciate that.

Blake pats Jack on the shoulder. “Jack, you’re a wonderful father. You’re a wonderful businessman. But you know what? There’s more for you to do, son.” He pats him again—if Jack could’ve actually felt that pat, he probably would’ve fallen over.

“Hey!” Christopher exclaims, watching a graph on his computer. “Check it out—his awareness just went off the charts! I think he heard you. It looks like he might finally be getting it—no, no, forget it…just a passing thought.”

“Nah, he didn’t hear me,” Blake says. “His heart is open from playing with his little boy. You’ve seen this before—happens every day when he’s with him. With his baby girl, too. But it doesn’t stay.”

Meanwhile, Sapphire simply whispers in Jack’s ear: “You are so dear. You are such a blessing. Thank you for all that you do.”

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Blake practically hollers to him, clapping his hands. He bends over next to him, hand on Jack’s shoulders, like a coach trying to pep up a reluctant-but-necessary player sitting on the bench. “It’s time to run with the ball, son. Time to know there’s even a ball in play. Time to know you’re even on the ball field. Time to know there’s even a game going on!”

Henry looks at the clock on the mantle. “He’ll be off to work soon,” he tells Brooke, “but he’s getting as much as he can of the most joyous thing in his life before he drops him off at preschool. One of the most joyous things, anyway. The other joy is his daughter. And this is Lacey, his wife,” he says, pointing to a form that has very successfully merged with the couch.

Brooke glances over at Lacey, who’s still doing the most wonderful job of potatoing. Yes, well, everyone on Earth has his or her special talent, and if a higher talent isn’t cultivated and nurtured, the lowest common denominator talent tends to prevail. Lacey might have been prettier in her day, and she could be on this day, if she wanted to be. Nope, doesn’t want to be: the bulge is winning this particular battle, dark roots are taking over the blond in her stringy, shoulder-length hair, her hazel eyes have long gone slack.

Surrounding Lacey are her three angels. If this team’s computer aficionado was from Earth, you would think she’s from Southeast Asia, and she’d be gorgeous if she weren’t so bored. She watches Lacey for a moment and then sighs as she starts to play a game of solitaire on her computer. There aren’t too many charts to watch when the human is so, well, uninvolved with life.

A chubby, adolescent-looking angel plays paddleball while an even younger-looking angel plays jacks on the floor. Adorable? Off the charts.

“Have they given up on her?” Brooke asks.

“Oh, no,” Henry answers. “But they have to wait ’til she turns off the TV. They’ll work on her when she gets up to use the bathroom. Can’t work on people while their minds are fully occupied with rot.”

“Why such young angels for her?”

Henry laughs. “Those two are ageless, timeless, eternal beings, just like all of us. But young-looking ones tend to act more young-at-heart. Sometimes angels like that are the only ones who can reach people like Lacey here. Special assignment.”

Brooke looks over at the couple’s son.

“And that’s Ben, their three-year-old.”

Ben’s three angels huddle around him, devoted to their tasks for him. (You’ll never see an angel working hard, but always with immense devotion and diligence.) One whispers in his ear, one studies her computer, one watches Ben carefully.

“You are so loved,” whispers Ben’s whisperer into his ear. “You are such a light. You have so much to give.” A smile spreads across Ben’s face.

Brooke glances into the kitchen. Piles of dishes from meals obviously long past sit in the sink, drops of milk and cereal decorate the placemats on the table, and there are more piles of that who-knows-what everywhere. Brooke notices that piles even surround Lacey on the couch.

Brooke points to Jack. “So he’s my assignment?”

“In living color,” Henry says.

Brooke watches Jack as he and Ben work on their creation, a dinosaur made of Legos. Giggling, Ben adds pieces of Legos in the shape of what you could guess is an elephant’s trunk. Jack chuckles. Wow! His shoulders start to move down to a level far more appropriate for a human shoulder. Lacey laughs—snorts, really—as a television announcer jokes, however; even though he doesn’t look up at her, Jack’s shoulders zoom right back up to his ears and his jawline goes rigid again.

“He doesn’t exactly flow with the go,” Brooke sighs.

“Go with the flow,” Henry corrects her. But he ponders for a moment. “Actually, I like it better your way.”

“Oh, Jack,” Brooke whispers to him, this man who clearly could be so very handsome and vibrant, but for some reason lives far, far below where he could be living. His son looks like a happier version of him in miniature: curly brown hair, big brown eyes, irrepressible smile. As Ben adds a giraffe’s neck to the dinosaur, Jack’s demeanor softens and relaxes—until Lacey snorts again, that is.

“At bottom, everything is a choice,” Henry says. “Everything.”

2020 Mom's Choice Award Winner

A day in the life of the young farmer, Jax Visit with all of the chickens, pigs, cows, goats, sheep, and other farm animals as Jax does his daily chores with a go-get-em attitude.

Told in an easy rhyming style and beautifully illustrated, the book's message is that everyone, no matter how small, has a role in life and enriches those around them with love and purpose.