Mae West is getting settled into the RV lifestyle as the owner of a campground in Normal, Kentucky.

Betts Hager, owner of several small businesses, is swamped Mae offers her services.

When a dead body is found in the client's house, the client begs Mae to help her prove she didn't kill the victim.

Once again Mae puts on her sleuthing cap because another dead body isn't going to help revive the economy.

Mae has grown to love her RV community and now that she's found a place to call him, she's not going to let anybody ruin it. Mae throws all of her heart and amateur sleuthing skills into bringing the real killer to justice.

DESPERATE PLAY brings you the third book in #1 New York Times Bestselling Author Barbara Freethy's new romantic suspense series: Off The Grid: FBI Series.

Special Agent Wyatt Tanner has always worked undercover. He thrives in the dark of the night. He survives by turning himself into someone else. But living so long in the shadows can make a man forget who he really is. When people start dying, when he finds blood on his own hands, he questions the choices he has made, the people he is with.

Can he find his way back to the light? Can he trust the beautiful woman who needs his help? Or does she also have a secret life?

He'll have to make one desperate play to find out...

Don't miss this page-turning, heart-stopping romantic suspense novel...coming soon

Check out more books in the series
Perilous Trust #1
Reckless Whisper #2
Desperate Play #3
Elusive Promise #4
Dangerous Choice #5

PRAISE FOR THE FBI SERIES

"Perilous Trust is a non-stop thriller that seamlessly melds jaw-dropping suspense with sizzling romance, and I was riveted from the first page to the last...Readers will be breathless in anticipation as this fast-paced and enthralling love story evolves and goes in unforeseeable directions." USA Today HEA Blog

"Barbara Freethy's first book in her OFF THE GRID series is an emotional, action packed, crime drama that keeps you on the edge of your seat...I'm exhausted after reading this but in a good way. 5 Stars " Booklovers Anonymous

"It's been a while since I have had the fun of reading a brilliant romantic suspense book - Perilous Trust gets me back into this genre with a bang " For the Love of Fictional Worlds

"Getting tangled up with Perilous Trust is a rush. Barbara Freethy sets the adrenaline level so high that it takes a while to come back down to solid ground. The suspense is killer, the danger is intense and the electricity generated between Sophie and Damon is off the charts. A lethally seductive thriller." Isha Coleman - I Love Romance Blog

One favor deserves another, or does it?

Against their better judgment, Ann and Rhonda agree to help a young girl in distress at the request of the vice-president of the United States, Amelia Swanson. After almost losing their lives because of an earlier request of hers, they plan on being more careful.

Amanda Rogers was an intern for Senator Worthington's office when she was drugged at a staff party and got pregnant. Now, alone without parental support, she and her friend, Jax Thomas, arrive at the hotel to wait out the last weeks of pregnancy in privacy. Senator Worthington and his wife want to adopt Mandy's baby girl, but she's made no promises. Jax would like to marry Mandy and raise the baby with her, but Mandy's parents have made it clear that Jax deserves better than someone like her, and Mandy's torn.

After vowing not to interfere, Ann and Rhonda find it more and more difficult to stay neutral. But they have other things on their minds. Aubrey Lowell, who almost ruined The Beach House Hotel managing it, their old nemesis, Brock Goodwin, and a couple of others have opened a nearby hotel called The Sand Castle, a playground for the hip, and have every intention of destroying The Beach House Hotel, no matter what it takes.

There is much to celebrate as happy news from both families and the hotel is shared by all. As Ann and Rhonda agree, life can sometimes be as sweet as one of Jean-Luc's desserts at The Beach House Hotel.

A light beach read with humor sprinkled in for readers' enjoyment featuring two women, Ann and Rhonda, whom readers adore. Be sure to read all the books so far in the series - Breakfast at The Beach House Hotel, Lunch at The Beach House Hotel, Dinner at The Beach House Hotel, Christmas at The Beach House Hotel, Margaritas at The Beach House Hotel, Dessert at The Beach House Hotel. Coffee at The Beach House Hotel and Tea at The Beach House Hotel coming soon.

Another of Judith Keim's series books celebrating love and families, strong women meeting challenges, and clean women's fiction with a touch of romance--beach reads for all ages with a touch of humor, satisfying twists, and happy endings. Be sure to check out her other delightful books and series that readers adore.

New from Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author L.T. Ryan, with Gregory Scott, Blake Brier returns in the sixth exciting installment in the acclaimed Blake Brier thriller series.

As the team settles into their new lives, a storm is brewing in Washington, DC.

An insidious plot, hatched at the highest levels of government, puts Blake and the team on a collision course with the most trying operation of their lives. Faced with insurmountable odds, will this be the mission that breaks them?

The sixth installment of the Blake Brier series, Detachment is a nail biting ride of action and intrigue. The stakes have never been higher. The toll has never been greater.

*** NAMED TO KIRKUS REVIEWS BEST BOOKS OF 2018 ***

Fire, splitting the atom, synthetic biology. There's a dark side to every invention, one which we have been fortunate to contain for most of history. But are we hurtling into the future too fast?

Detonation is an epic dystopian tale that is a cautionary reflection on our own innovation-obsessed culture. It follows two societies that are connected, but centuries apart, and their struggle against a superintelligent machine. Amid ideological clashes and political plotting, a diverse cast discovers this insidious threat, one which few can fathom, and fewer can challenge, and they are forced into an escalating conflict against a tireless enemy.

About the Author
Otto, Erik A.: - Erik A. Otto is a former healthcare industry executive and technologist, now turned science fiction author. His works of fiction include A Toxic Ambition, Detonation, Transition, and the Tale of Infidels series. Detonation has been named to Kirkus Reviews Best Books of 2018, and is a finalist for the Foreword INDIES Book of the Year Award for 2018. In addition to writing, Erik is currently serving as the Managing Director of Ethagi Inc., an organization dedicated to promoting the safe and ethical use of artificial general intelligence technologies. He lives in Charlottesville, Virginia, with his wife and two children.

Best Indie Book Runner Up Award from ShelfUnbound

"Driven by an exceptionally strong female lead, the first entry in Katherine Smith Dedrick's V-files series is a winner." - BestThrillers Staff

"Deviant Agendas: A Victoria Rodessa Legal Thriller by Katherine Smith Dedrick is a complete stunner..." - Rabia Tanveer for Readers' Favorite

Smart, sexy, sassy and driven-Victoria Rodessa just graduated from one of the country's top law schools and joined the international firm Acker, Smith & McGowen, respected for its advancement of female lawyers. When Victoria lands a prized assignment vital to the ambitions of the firm's powerful partners, she sets out to become the first woman to join their ranks. But behind closed doors, deviant agendas dominate. With only her intellect and guts to guide her, Victoria confronts a perfect storm of misogyny, lies and criminal intent. If she follows her conscience, she could lose everything. But keeping silent could come at an even higher cost.

About the Author
Dedrick, Katherine Smith: - Katherine Smith Dedrick is author of The V-Files, a legal thriller series with strong female protagonists. An attorney for more than thirty years, Katherine has litigated in U.S. federal and state courts and served on the management team of a national law firm. Katherine holds a law degree from IIT Chicago Kent and MBA from The University of Chicago. In addition to writing novels and practicing law, she has received the Business Insurance Women to Watch Award, the Women with Visions Award, and the Mercedes Mentor Award.

At the end of a long journey, lightning flashed outside my window...I need more control.

My hand jumped to Mulberry's forearm and squeezed. Shutting my eyes, I struggled not to picture the small plane cracking in half, my body flying through the air, still seat-belted to the beige leather chair; Blue, his paws grasping at empty space, disappearing into the bruise-colored clouds.

The small jet shook and our pilot's voice, smooth and steady, came over the loudspeaker, "Sorry about the bumps. We'll have you down in Miami in about twenty minutes. Just hold tight."

Mulberry put his hand over mine. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll be there soon." He smiled, making his crow's feet crinkle. Mulberry's eyes were deep emerald with ochre and flashes of gold. I tried to smile back but could tell I was just giving grimace. Mulberry handed me his whisky and soda. I finished it off.

The ice cubes danced in my empty glass. Then we were suddenly out of the clouds. Below us the ocean was close, steel blue with white caps cresting each wave. The city's skyscrapers looked like towers of mercury in the storm's eerie light. Raindrops clung to my window, streaking across it as our speed pushed them aside.

Hugh was somewhere down there in that city, a flat landscape made multi-dimensional through the efforts of man. My stomach lurched as we dropped through the air, my seat belt pressing into me. Blue whined softly and flattened himself even further onto the floor of the plane.

A giant of a dog, Blue has the coat of a wolf, the snout of a Collie, with one brown eye and one blue. Both of which were trained on me at that moment. My fear was freaking him out. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine the turbulence as a gentle rocking but it didn't work. An ice cube jumped out of my glass landing on the carpeting. Blue, his belly still flat on the ground, inched his way toward it, then his tongue stretched out and pulled the cube into his mouth. He crunched twice before looking back up at me, now hoping for more whisky-flavored ice. I couldn't help but smile at the expectant look on his fuzzy face.

We touched down with a jerk that sent my heart racing one more time. But as we slowly taxied toward our hangar the storm seemed suddenly minor. Just a breath of wind fluttered across the puddles, turning them into shimmering mirrors framed by the dark tarmac.

"All right Ms. Rye," our captain's voice came back on over the loudspeaker. "Sorry about that descent, but we got you here safe. Thanks for flying with us, I hope we'll have you back real soon."

As soon as humanly possible. I didn't want to be here, but Hugh was in trouble, and if there was one person I cared about in this world it was him.

He was a tie to my murdered brother, a shared memory bank. I would do anything to help Hugh.

P.S. The dog does not die.
**Beware: If you can't handle a few f-bombs, you can't handle this series.**

The Beach House Hotel, the seaside mansion Ann Rutherford and Rhonda DelMonte converted to an upscale boutique hotel, continues to be a success. Not only is it the spot for breakfast and lunch, it's become the "IN place" for dinner. The sudden, unexpected deaths of Ann's ex and his wife, leave the care of their son, Robbie, to Ann's daughter, Liz, while she is still in college. Ann and Vaughn decide to relieve Liz of this responsibility by adopting Robbie as Rhonda becomes both a mother and grandmother. Vaughn's plane disappears on a fishing trip in Alaska at the same time they learn investors want to buy the hotel. Ann and Rhonda are faced with one of the biggest decisions of their lives. The hotel is their baby too--their pride and joy. But they know no matter what the future holds, their love and friendship for each other will endure.

When a man careens off the road into the frigid waters of the Chautauqua River, Chief Detective David Wolf risks his own life to bring the man to shore. News of Wolf's bravery travels fast through the burgeoning ski town of Rocky Points, Colorado, and before long he's pulled into the political grinder, where candidates are eager to exploit Wolf's character for their own gain. Injured as well in the process, it seems his heroic deed was some cruel twist of fate, that is, until he meets Lauren Coulter, a new girl in town and a nurse at the local hospital. Lauren is smart, beautiful, and just Wolf's type. The connection between them is there. But just as they get started, so does the killing. And as bodies start emerging, so do the secrets from Lauren's troubled past. Has fate steered Wolf to the wrong woman? Or is someone more devious behind the wheel? Lives will depend on how fast Wolf can come up with the answer, and this time, living with failure will prove to be something much worse than death. This is the 8th installment of the popular David Wolf mystery series, which are chock full of mystery, suspense, and thrills. The entire series in order is as follows ... Gut Decision (David Wolf mystery-thriller short story)Foreign Deceit (David Wolf Book 1)The Silversmith (David Wolf Book 2)Alive and Killing (David Wolf Book 3)Deadly Conditions (David Wolf Book 4)Cold Lake (David Wolf Book 5)Smoked Out (David Wolf Book 6)To the Bone (David Wolf Book 7)Dire (David Wolf Book 8)You can keep up to date with Jeff Carson and his mystery-thriller projects, including a new series starter due out this summer, by visiting his blog at http: //jeffcarson.co. Be sure to sign up for the newsletter to get a free copy of Gut Decision and to stay abreast of new releases

A GRIPPING PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER WITH ONE TWIST AFTER ANOTHER...The forest is my happy place. A chance to get away from my stifling apartment, the sweat of the city, a job I hate. A Sunday morning hiking in the woods with my dog is a dream come true ... until it becomes a nightmare.
I don't see the hole until it's too late. Then I'm at the bottom of it, staring up at the ground twelve feet above me. A stupid accident.
Or was it?
Because soon, someone's bringing me food and water. Someone who doesn't want me to see his face.
Someone who knows what I did.
Out there, someone wants revenge. And down here, at the bottom of a hole, a lifetime of lies is about to unravel...
A fresh and original thriller, Dirty Liar asks how well we ever truly know the people we love. Guaranteed to keep you turning pages long into the night

The public face. A private reality. Sometimes, the dead have a lot to hide...

DI Nathaniel Caslin's life is a mess. He works the minimum, abuses substances to survive the day and drinks his nights away. A once-promising career is in freefall.

Investigating the death of an ex-serviceman in police custody, reveals the disappearance of a young family. No-one noticed. No-one seems to care. In the grip of a bitter, Yorkshire winter, a family home reluctantly offers up its grisly secrets. Out on the moors, a murder scene of horrific brutality demands Caslin's focused attention. In the search for answers, is anyone who they claim to be?

Haunted by the ghosts of the past, Caslin is pushed to his limits. Will this case break him or be his path to redemption?

Dark, terrifying and complex, Divided House is the first novel in the #1 international best selling Dark Yorkshire Series.

About the Author
Dalgliesh, J. M.: - Jason Dalgliesh was born on the south coast of England and grew up in Hampshire, UK. He has worked in the power transmission industry, the retail sector, call centres and as a night-owl in a bakery. He has a degree in history. Following on from the worldwide bestselling Dark Yorkshire crime series, he also writes the Hidden Norfolk books, introducing Detective Tom Janssen. The fifth book in the series, Hear No Evil, was shortlisted for Amazon's prestigious Kindle Storyteller Award in 2020. The two series are set in England, Yorkshire and Norfolk respectively. The medieval City of York is DI Caslin's home town and the wind swept coast of north Norfolk is home to DI Janssen and his team. The plot lines take in some of the UK's most rugged and beautiful landscapes. Penned in the style of crime thrillers with a touch of Scandinavian noir, readers who enjoy dark atmospheric mysteries will find both series a must read. Having spent time abroad, Jason has lived and worked in various parts of England as well as the Scottish Highlands. He currently lives in Norfolk with his wife and two young children.

One dead. One missing.Loyalty sucks Wolf in. Getting out alive will be another matter. The latest brand new thrill-ride mystery in the #1 Amazon bestselling David Wolf series.One man is dead and another is missing down south near Ridgway, Colorado. When the local law enforcement reaches out to Chief Detective David Wolf's department, his task is to check on former-sheriff Harold "Hal" Burton. Because a person of interest in the case has also gone missing--Burton's estranged nephew, Jesse. Out of loyalty to his old boss, Wolf is sucked into the case, and it soon becomes clear there is more going on than meets the eye. And as for disturbing clues, there are plenty to meet the eye when they arrive in Ridgway. Meanwhile, change is in the air back in Rocky Points, as palpable as the buzz before a lightning strike. And it's becoming clear that if Wolf can survive the forces at play amid the jagged skies of the San Juan mountains, then more trouble awaits at home. The acclaimed Amazon bestselling David Wolf mystery-thriller series continues in this new pulse-pounding mystery thriller, where things are not always what they seem. If Wolf wants to see justice served and stay around to see another day, he'll need to draw on all his wits. But, this time even that may not be enough.If you like C. J. Box's Joe Pickett, James Patterson, Lee Child's Jack Reacher, Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch, Craig Johnson's Longmire, and David Baldacci, then this David Wolf Mystery Thriller is sure to keep you flipping pages until the late hours of the night. If you like chest tightening suspense, plots with more turns than a Colorado mountain road, thrills that will leave you sucking air, and smart characters you'll love like family, then the Wolf series is for you. Readers are saying ..."I recommend this series to all who enjoy a fast paced thrill ride who done it. There's never a dull moment in this Colorado mountain town and how David gets himself in and out of harrowing situations is something I can't wait to find out.""I feel like I have found new friends in these characters. The stories are excellently told, with plenty of twists to keep you wanting more.""One of the best series I've read. Suspenseful, twists and turns.""Really well written characters in this action-drama-suspense series of books Well-developed plot, smooth transitions and realistic storylines.""A rare and under appreciated writer easily on par with Grisham and Patterson."

Princess Divine, the sole heir to the English throne, wants to marry a guileless All Black rugby player and farmer from Proud (New Zealand).

Fearing a royal scandal, the scheming Queen Liliana and maniacal King Filip plot to marry Divine off to an English aristocrat. Divine flees with her lover, Joshua, in 2022, to Proud.

Led by the King to bring Divine home, English and Australian soldiers fight an epic battle at a Maori pa (fortress) against fierce Māori gang warriors, elderly mercenaries, Afghan refugees, and even a replica of the extinct moa.

Divine returns to marry and become Queen, but disaster strikes when Divine cannot produce an heir to continue the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha's grip on the monarchy after the decades-old reign of the Windsor dynasty.

Will Divine abdicate? Who would replace her? Why is the British Commonwealth collapsing all around them? What dark rituals do All Blacks follow? Does Australia want to conquer Proud? Divine and Joshua are innocent pawns in an international power play between the Queen and her subjects.

Divine's Choice is a humorous, contemporary (2022) romantic adventure, a family saga with more twists and turns than the Hampton Court maze. It parodies the unique pressures facing the English monarchy and its rugby equivalent, the New Zealand All Blacks, in today's cruel social media age.

Spencer Edwards has a beautiful wife, two perfect children, and a sinister secret locked in his basement...

When Andi Edwards discovers her husband isn't where he's supposed to be and isn't answering her calls or texts, a flurry of scenarios races through her mind.

Is he hurt?

Is he cheating?

Is he dead?

The truth, she soon finds out, is so much worse than she could've imagined.

As she struggles to make sense of her new and chilling reality, she must decide whether to stand by the man she loves and help protect him or walk away and let him pay for his sins.

With time running out, the secret in the basement becomes more dangerous, and the spine-chilling truth becomes clear: if she makes the wrong decision, she stands to lose much more than her marriage.

When their best laid plans come back to haunt them, what will Spencer and Andi be willing to sacrifice to survive?

When twelve-year-old Sophie Williams went on a Girl Scout summer camp, she never returned home.

Three months later, her body is found inside her sleeping bag in the most frequented area of Cocoa Beach, and the town is outraged.

The girl isn't just any child. She's the town's most beloved surf idol, and it was believed that she could be the next Kelly Slater.

As another child, the son of a well-known senator is kidnapped, and the parents receive a disturbing video, FBI profiler Eva Rae Thomas - who has just returned to her hometown, divorced and out of a job - plunges into the investigation, breaking her promise to her children not to do police work again.

Local law enforcement, with her old flame Matt Miller in charge, are the ones who ask for her help in a case so unsettling that only she can solve it. But the deeper they dig, the deadlier it becomes for Matt and Eva Rae. Soon, everyone she holds dear is in grave danger as this case hits a little too close to home.

DON'T LIE TO ME is the first book in the Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Series and can be read as a standalone.

Scroll up and grab a heart-pounding mystery today.

“Powerful and absorbing … Sheer hold-your-breath suspense.” —NY Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestselling author, Karen Robards

12 weeks on the New York Times Bestseller List!

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Barbara Freethy comes an award winning tale of romance and suspense.

Everything she's been told about her past is a lie...

Julie De Marco is planning a perfect San Francisco wedding when she comes face-to-face with a famous photograph, the startling image of a little girl behind the iron gate of a foreign orphanage—a girl who looks exactly like her. But Julia isn't an orphan. She isn't adopted. And she's never been out of the country. She knows who she is—or does she?

Haunted by uncertainty, Julia sets off on a dangerous search for her true identity—her only clues a swan necklace and an old Russian doll, her only ally daring, sexy photographer Alex Manning. Suddenly nothing is as it seems. The people Julia loved and trusted become suspicious strangers. The relationships she believed in—with her mother, her sister, and her fiancé—are shaken by new revelations. The only person she can trust is Alex, but he has secrets of his own. Each step brings her closer to a mysterious past that began a world away—a past that still has the power to threaten her life...and change her future forever.

 

More Reviews:

"A page-turner that engages your mind while it tugs at your heartstrings...Don't Say a Word had made me a Barbara Freethy fan for life!" —NY Times and USA Today bestselling author Diane Chamberlain

"An absorbing story of two people determined to unravel the secrets, betrayals, and questions about their past. The story builds to an explosive conclusion that will leave readers eagerly awaiting Barbara Freethy's next book." —NY Times bestselling author Carla Neggars

"Dark, hidden secrets and stunning betrayal boil together in a potent and moving suspense. Freethy's story-telling ability is top-notch." —Romantic Times Magazine Top Pick of the Month

“What drew me to Don't Say a Word was the fear of the unknown. Everybody has questions about who they are and where they came from,, but to come face to face with the answers is scary. Ms. Freethy created a world full of suspense that is as thrilling as it is tragic. Julie serves as a beacon that from some of life's darkest moment can rise many of the brightest.” —I Love Romance Blog

 

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

It's the dead of winter, and FBI Agents Jade Monroe and J.T. Harper are asked to assist the Gary, Indiana, police force in a possible serial killer case that has everyone stumped.A body, frozen stiff and drained of blood, is found by children playing near an old quarry. Several weeks later, a second body is discovered in an abandoned house, and the manner of death is identical. The agents race to Gary when word of a third victim comes in.With no clues and multiple frozen bodies, the agents have no idea when these women died or what the FBI is facing, yet the body count rises and the manner of death remains the same. Jade wonders whether they're heading into the dark, unknown world of the occult, a place she knows nothing about-and has no desire to.The most well-known occult leader in the area is in their sights and currently their only lead. Are the agents and local law enforcement heading down the wrong path? The final blindside shakes Jade to her core and leaves the entire police force stunned.

About the Author
C.M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in the Midwest, although she is originally from California. She is a member of numerous writers' organizations including, Writers-Online, Fiction for All, Fiction Factor, and Writers etc. Other than writing crime thrillers, she enjoys spending time with her family and dog. She is an art enthusiast and loves to paint and make hand-made soap. Gardening, hiking, bicycling, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes. Be the first to be notified of new releases and promotions at: http: //cmsutter.com.

Seeking answers to her father's death.
Hatch finds herself in a small town outside of Las Cruses, New Mexico.
Controlled by a vicious street gang.
A family caught in the crossfire.
Hatch sets out to make things right.

The quaint town of Luna Vista, turns out to be anything but. A ruthless gang runs a section of the town. In searching for the truth about her father's past, she's pitted against a criminal network that exposes the town's dark secret. Hatch puts her life on the line to help a boy escape the clutches of the gang. Her act puts her in peril.

She finds herself in a battle as treacherous as any she's faced before, against an enemy hellbent on stopping her. Danger lurks around every corner. Hatch 's code, a simple one, Help good people and punish those who hurt others, may prove more difficult a task as the forces against her mount. A whirlwind of threats converge like the unpredictable desert weather and threaten to crash down upon her.

Not afraid of a good fight, Hatch prepares herself for her most difficult battle of her life.

Downburst is designed with the dynamic pacing and story telling fans of L.T. Ryan and Brian Shea have become accustomed to. This sequel is filled with twists and turns, and the relentless pacing that will keep readers turning pages until the very last word.

If you're going to take aim at Blake Brier, you better not miss.

New from Wall Street Journal bestselling author L.T. Ryan, with Gregory Scott!

Returning to Rhode Island, Blake finds a Dear John letter and his house empty. Haeli is gone. Is it history repeating itself? Or is this something different?

A search for answers about a past operation has come back to haunt her. Haeli finds she's in for more than she bargained for. Her past is on a collision course with her future. Will Blake be collateral damage?

Caught in the crosshairs, Blake is forced into action. A heart-pounding race-against-all-odds thriller awaits.

"You'll hold your breath until the very last page."

The third book in the exhilarating treasure-hunting adventure series, the Atlantis Legacy.

An ancient enemy has Earth in its sights, and there's only one hope for humanity...

Cora and Peri have finally merged, making their minds one, but it's not all smooth sailing. Cora is having a difficult time reconciling her current, reclusive gamer identity with the badass warrior she was in lifetimes past. Before she can get a grip on her new reality, an old enemy resurfaces, endangering Earth and everyone residing there--including the last remnants of the Olympians.

With the help of her nearest and dearest, including the two men--one Olympian, one human--now vying for her heart, Cora must lead the team on a quest off-world to save the planet from certain destruction. Until some dire information surfaces, leading Cora to wonder if fighting is futile, and the only way to survive, is to run.

Dreams of the Damned is the third book in the captivating sci-fi adventure series, the Atlantis Legacy. If you like ancient mysteries, Greek mythology, treasure-hunting adventurers, and alien conspiracies, then you'll love this exhilarating adventure!

THEY KILLED THE WRONG GIRL. RACHEL HATCH WILL MAKE THEM PAY.

USA TODAY & Amazon 2-million copy bestselling author L.T. RYAN has teamed up with police detective Brian Shea for this debut novel in the gripping Rachel Hatch mystery thriller series.

Ex-Army criminal investigator Rachel Hatch is a drifter. No home. No commitments. Until her sister's drowning drags her back to the town she left fifteen years ago.

Convinced her sister's death was no accident, Hatch partners with the local sheriff, Dalton Savage to uncover the truth. Every answer unlocks another question, and as the investigation begins to unravel, Hatch and Savage find their lives on the line.

Hatch is forced to use her special set of skills - forged on the field of combat - to learn the truth about her sister and bring those responsible to justice.

The first novel in one of the most highly-anticipated collaborative series this decade, DRIFT is a tightly woven story, with deeply-developed and endearing characters that will have you rooting for them at every turn, set at an exhilarating pace that will keep you turning pages late into the night.

As the snow melts, a disturbing truth emerges. Colorado mountain detective David Wolf is back in the latest page-turning mystery that will leave your heart pounding and lungs pumping for air. A Rocky Points businessman goes missing, leaving behind an SUV drifted over in snow and a lot of questions for the Sluice-Byron County SD. But the answers are hard to come by, and Chief Detective David Wolf's personal problems aren't making investigating any easier for him and his team. As the temperatures rise in the Chautauqua Valley, the most important clue emerges from the melting drifts. At the same time, Wolf's memories surface from the shadowy depths of his mind and back into his life. Even for a man with Wolf's history, dealing with the case and facing his demons head-on proves too much, and Wolf is brought to his knees, both physically and mentally. Will the valley's best cop rise again, purified by fire? Or will his ashes drift away on the high winds of the Rockies, leaving behind a justice unpaid? If you like C. J. Box's Joe Pickett, James Patterson, Lee Child's Jack Reacher, Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch, Craig Johnson's Longmire, and David Baldacci, then this David Wolf Mystery Thriller is sure to keep you flipping pages until every single one is read. Other Books in the David Wolf Series of Mystery, Suspense, Action ThrillersDrifted is the latest of a twelve stand-alone book series starring the lovable David Wolf and his colorful cast of SBCSD deputies. The series has earned thousands of five-star reviews, and has been among the most downloaded and read on Kindle. If you like gripping suspense, mysteries with more turns than a Colorado mountain road, action that will leave you breathless, and characters you'll learn to love like family, then the Wolf series is for you Readers are saying ..."I recommend this series to all who enjoy a fast paced thrill ride who done it. There's never a dull moment in this Colorado mountain town and how David gets himself in and out of harrowing situations is something I can't wait to find out.""I feel like I have found new friends in these characters. The stories are excellently told, with plenty of twists to keep you wanting more.""One of the best series I've read. Suspenseful, twists and turns.""Really well written characters in this action-drama-suspense series of books Well developed plot, smooth transitions and realistic storylines.""A rare and under appreciated writer easily on par with Grisham and Patterson."

Two lives intertwined. Will the truth set them free?In this fourth book of The 1929 Series, we are led into the world of Richard Sloan, a Massachusetts missing person's detective who seems to be losing his touch. After six months he hasn't found anyone alive and becomes desperate to redeem his reputation.Aryl Sullivan, who suffered amnesia in a boating accident, finds himself caught up in a series of events that land him in London. While in the hands of Gina, a secretive and controlling woman, and her boss, Mickey, Aryl is forever changed as he does what he has to in order to survive.Following leads on a serial cop killer terrorizing Boston, Detective Sloan unwittingly stumbles on information that leads him to Aryl Sullivan, a man everyone in Rockport thinks is dead.

“I stayed up the entire night reading Duet for Three Hands…[it] was the epitome of unputdownable.” —The Bookish Owl

A standalone historical romance from USA Today bestselling author Tess Thompson that teaches a valuable lesson about life's most important choice: embracing the power of love or being consumed by the power of hate.

Nathaniel Fye's marriage into the wealthy Bellmont family is one of convenience, and the brilliant concert pianist soon discovers he has no idea who his wife really is. Then tragedy leaves Nathaniel with nothing more than memories of his fame and fortune, and a single protege—the widow Lydia Tyler—to continue teaching.

Jeselle Thorton's heart has always belonged to one man, who, fortunately for Jeselle, has always reciprocated her love. But because of the color of their skin, the couple can never have more than their dreams of a future together.

Four lives brought together by circumstance will be forced to combat prejudice and risk everything in this deep and complex family saga of forbidden love and flawed humanity in America's Depression-era South.

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Author Bio:
Tess Thompson is the USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary and historical Romantic Women’s Fiction with nearly forty published titles. When asked to describe her books, she could never figure out what to say that would perfectly sum them up until she landed on Hometowns and Heartstrings.

 

Book Excerpt:

Part 1

From Jeselle Thorton’s journal.

June 10, 1928

When I came into the kitchen this morning, Mrs. Bellmont handed me a package wrapped in shiny gold paper, a gift for my thirteenth birthday. A book, I thought, happy. But it wasn’t a book to read. It was a book to write in: a leather-bound journal. Inches of blank pages, waiting for my words.

Mrs. Bellmont beamed at me, seemingly pleased with my delight over the journal. “You write whatever ideas and observations come to you, Jeselle. Don’t censor yourself. Women, especially, can only learn to write by telling the truth about themselves and those around them.”

I put my nose in the middle of all those empty pages and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the clean smell of new paper. Behind us Mama poured hotcake batter into a frying pan. The room filled with the aroma of those sweet cakes and sizzling oil. Whitmore came in holding a string of fish he’d caught in the lake, the screen door slamming behind him.

“Tell me why it matters that you write?” asked Mrs. Bellmont in her soft teacher voice.

“I cannot say exactly, Mrs. Bellmont.” Too shy to say the words out loud, I shrugged to hide my feelings. But I know exactly. I write to know I exist, to know there is more to me than flesh and muscle being primed for a life of humility, servitude, obedience. I write, seeking clarity. I write because I love. I write, searching for the light.

Mrs. Bellmont understood. This is the way between us. She squeezed my hand, her skin cream over my coffee.

Tonight, for my birthday present, Whit captured lightning bugs in a glass jar, knowing how I love them. We set the jar on the veranda, astonished at the immensity of their combined glow. “Enough light in there to write by,” I said, thinking of my journal now tucked in my apron pocket.

“They spark to attract a mate,” he said, almost mournfully.

“They light up to find love?” I asked, astonished.

He nodded. “Isn’t it something?”

We watched those bugs for a good while until Whit pushed his blond curls back from his forehead like he does when he worries.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“They shouldn’t be trapped in this jar when they’re meant to fly free, to look for love.”

He unscrewed the lid, and those flickers of life drifted out into the sultry air until they intermingled with other fireflies, liberated to attract the love they so desperately sought. I moved closer to him. He took my hand as we watched and watched, not wanting the moment to end but knowing it must, as all moments do, both good and bad, light and dark, leaving only love behind to be savored in our memories.

Chapter 1: Nathaniel

On a hot and humid day in the middle of June, Nathaniel Fye rehearsed for a concert he was to give that night at the Howard Theatre with the Atlanta Orchestra. It was late afternoon when he emerged from the cool darkness of the theatre into the glaring afternoon heat and noise of Peachtree Street. He walked toward the large W that hung over the Hotel Winecoff, where he planned to eat a late afternoon meal and then head up to his room for a rest and a bath before dressing for the evening concert. Thick, humid air and gasoline fumes from passing automobiles made him hot even in his white linen summer suit. Across to Singapore, starring Joan Crawford, was displayed on the Loew’s Theatre marquee. What sort of people went to the moving pictures, he wondered? Ordinary people who had lives filled with fun and love and friendship instead of traveling from town to town for concerts and nothing but practice in between. All the travel had been tolerable, even exciting, when he was younger, but now, as his age crept into the early thirties, he found himself wanting companionship and love, especially from a woman. Lately, he daydreamed frequently of a wife and children, a home. The idea filled him with longing, the kind that even the accolades and enthusiastic audiences could not assuage. But he was hopeless with women. Tongue-tied, stammering, sweating, all described his interactions with any woman but his mother. His manager, Walt, was good with people. He could talk to anyone. But Nathaniel? He could never think of one thing to say to anyone—his preferred way of communication was music. When his hands were on the keys it was as if his soul were set free to love and be loved, everything inside him released to the world. He would never think of taking the astonishing opportunities his talent had afforded him for granted, especially after the sacrifices his parents had made for him to study with the finest teachers in the world. Even so, he was lonely. The disciplined life and his natural reticence afforded little opportunity for connection.

A young woman stood near the entrance of the Winecoff, one foot perched saucily on the wall while balancing on the other, reading a magazine. She wore a cream-colored dress, and her curly, white-blonde hair bobbed under a cloche hat of fine-woven pink straw with a brim just wide enough to cover her face. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the door’s glass window, suddenly conscious of his own appearance. Tall, with a slight slump at his shoulders from years at the piano, dark hair under his hat, high cheekbones and sensitive brown eyes from his father but a delicate nose and stern mouth from his mother. Handsome? He suspected not. Just because you wish something didn’t make it so, he thought. As his hand touched the door to go in, the young woman looked up and stared into his eyes. “Good afternoon. How do you do?”

Porcelain skin, gray eyes, perfect petite features, all combined to make a beautiful, exquisite, but completely foreign creature. A beautiful woman. Right here, in front of him. What to do? His heart flipped inside his chest and started beating hard and fast. Could she tell? Was it visible? He covered his chest with his hand, hot and embarrassed. “Yes.” He lifted his hat. Oh, horrors: his forehead was slick with sweat. Yes? Had he just said yes? What had she asked him? He moved his gaze to a spot on the window. A fly landed on the glass and went still, looking at him with bulging eyes.

Her voice, like a string attached to his ear, drew his gaze back to her. “It’s unbearably hot. I could sure use a Coca-Cola.” With a flirtatious cock of her head, she smiled. She had the same thick Georgian accent as all the women in Atlanta, but there was a reckless, breathless quality in the way she oozed the words.

“Quite. Yes. Well, goodbye, then.” He somehow managed to open the door and slip inside.

The hotel was quiet. Several women lounged in the lobby, talking quietly over glasses of sweet tea. A man in a suit sat at one of the small desks provided for guests, writing into a ledger. A maid scurried through with an armful of towels. He wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the wall. What was the matter with him? How was it possible to hold the attention of hundreds during a concert, yet be unable to utter a single intelligible thing to one lone woman?

He stumbled over to the café counter and ordered a sandwich and a glass of Coca-Cola. He allowed himself one glass whenever he performed in Atlanta during the summer. The heat, as the young woman had said, made a person long for a Coca-Cola. But only one, no more or he might never stop, and next thing he knew he’d have one every day and then twice a day and so forth. Sweet drinks were an indulgence, a dangerous way to live for a man who must have complete discipline to remain a virtuoso. If he allowed himself anything or everything he wanted, where might it lead? He could not be like other people, even if he wanted to be.

Waiting for his drink, he heard, rather than saw, the door open, and then the blonde woman sat beside him, swinging her legs ever so slightly as she perched on the round bar stool. “Hello again.” She placed her hands, which were half the size of his and so white as to appear almost translucent, upon the counter. She interlaced her fingers, rather primly and in a way that seemed to belie the general forwardness of sitting next to a man she didn’t know at an otherwise empty counter. He nodded at her, catching a whiff of gardenia he supposed came from her smooth, white neck.

“Would you like to buy me a Coca-Cola?” She peered up at him from under her lashes. Her eyes were the color of storm clouds.

What was this? She wanted him to buy her a drink? Had she hinted at that outside? What a ninny he was. Of course. Any imbecile could have picked up on that. Walt would have had her in here with a soda in her hand before the door closed behind them. He tried to respond, but his voice caught in the back of his throat. Instead he nodded to the man in the white apron behind the fountain, who, in turn, also in silence, pulled the knob of the fountain spray with a beefy arm.

“I’ve just come from the Crawford picture. It was simply too marvelous for words. I do so love the moving pictures. What’s your name?” She pressed a handkerchief to the nape of her neck where soft curls lay, damp with perspiration. What would it feel like to wrap his finger in one of the curls?

“Nathaniel.”

“I’m Frances Bellmont. You from up north?”

“Maine originally. I live in New York City now.”

Her gray eyes flickered, and an eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “I see. A Yankee.” He thought he detected an excitement as she said it, as if to sit by him were an act of rebellion.

“As north as you can get and still be an American,” he said. At last. Words!

“’Round here we’re not sure any of y’all are true Americans.” She took a dainty sip from her soda and peered at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Now wait a minute. Are you Nathaniel Fye, the piano player?”

“Right.”

“Oh my.” She turned her full gaze upon him. “That is interesting.” She had full lips that looked almost swollen. “My mother and I happen to be attending that very concert tonight. I don’t enjoy such serious music, but my mother simply adores it. We’re staying overnight here at the Winecoff. We live all the way across town, and mother thought it would be nice to stay overnight. Together.” She rolled her eyes.

Before he knew what he was saying, a lie stumbled from his mouth. “Party. Later. In my suite. You could come. Your mother, too.”

“A party? I’d love to attend. Do I have to bring my mother?” She sipped her soda while looking up at him through her lashes.

“I, I don’t know.” He stuttered. “Isn’t that how it’s done?”

She slid off her seat, touching the sleeve of his jacket like a caress. “I’m just teasing. We wouldn’t think of missing it. I’ll see you then.” And then she was out the door, leaving only the smell of her perfume behind, as if it had taken up permanent residence in his nostrils.

Later that night, before the concert, he stood at the full-length mirror in the greenroom of the Howard Theatre, brushing lint from his black tuxedo jacket. Walt sat across from him in one of the soft chairs, scouring the arts section of the New York Times and occasionally making notations in a small notebook.

“I’d like to have a small group up to my room. After the concert tonight.”

“What did you say?” Walt, a few years younger than Nathaniel, possessed light blue eyes that were constantly on the move, shifting and scanning, like a predator looking for his next meal. He was once an amateur violinist who had played in his small town of Montevallo, Alabama, at church and town dances before he went to New York City. “Played the fiddle, but I didn’t have the talent to go all the way,” he told Nathaniel years ago, during their first interview. “But the music, it gets in a person’s blood, and I aim to make a life out of it however I can.”

Walt closed the newspaper without making a sound, like he was trying not to spook a wild horse. He stood, folding the newspaper under his arm. He had a slim build and wore wire-rimmed glasses. Receding light brown hair made his forehead appear more prominent than it once was. Despite his ordinary appearance, women flushed and giggled when he spoke to them. “Never, in five years, have you had folks up to your room. Much as I’ve asked you to.”

“I know,” Nathaniel said, shrugging as if it were nothing important. “You know I can never think of anything to say to people.”

Walt’s eyes were already at the door. “You want me to bring the music promoter I was telling you about? He’s keen to get after you with some ideas.”

“Fine.”

Walt rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I’ll make sure no one stays too late. We leave for the West tomorrow on the early train.” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Why the sudden interest in sociability?” He raised an eyebrow and punched him on the shoulder. “Could it be the young lady I saw you with earlier?”

Nathaniel straightened his bow tie. “How did you know that?”

“I was checking into the hotel when I happened to see the two of you at the bar. I saw her again at the restaurant tonight. Dining with her mother, if I make my guess. They’re almost identical.”

Nathaniel wanted to ask more but kept quiet. He took his pocket watch out of his trousers and set it on the table. His pockets must be empty when he played. He stretched his fingers.

“You do know who they are, don’t you?” Walt’s forehead glistened. He took off his glasses and waved them in the air. Nathaniel couldn’t decide if he only imagined the movement was in the shape of a dollar sign.

“Last name’s Bellmont.”

“Yeah, that’s Frances Bellmont you bought a soda for, my friend. The Bellmont family’s old money. Used to own half of Georgia. He’s a vice president over at Coca-Cola.”

“I see.”

Walt waggled his fingers, teasing. “I know you don’t care about such things.”

“Just be at my room at ten,” Nathaniel said, chuckling. “Before anyone else arrives. I’ll need you to do the talking.”

“My mama always said I was a good talker,” said Walt.

“One of us has to be.”

“I’ll get hold of some champagne. From what I hear, Frances Bellmont likes her champagne.” He slapped Nathaniel on the back.

“What do you mean?” A dart of something, almost like fear, pierced the bottom of his stomach.

“Just rumors. Nothing to worry over.”

“Tell me.”

“She likes parties. That’s all.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s my job to know these kinds of things.” Walt put up his hand, like a command. “Stop. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you interested in a woman. Don’t ruin it by talking yourself out of it.” He left through the greenroom door, calling out behind him, “Good luck tonight.”

After the concert, Nathaniel went back to his suite and bathed the perspiration from his body, using a scrub brush and soap he imagined smelled like a woman’s inner wrist. He washed his thick, dark hair and flicked it back with pomade so that the waves that sometimes fell over his forehead were tamed. Using a straight blade to shave his face, he scrutinized his looks. Would he ever be appealing to a girl like Frances Bellmont? His eyes were brown and on the small side, if he were truthful. And his lips were thin, now that he really looked at them, although he had straight, white teeth. That was something. People were always telling Walt that Nathaniel came across as intense, and sometimes even the word frightening had been used. I’ll smile, he assured himself. Easy and fun, like Walt.

He hung his tuxedo in the closet and smoothed the bed cover from where he’d rumpled it during his earlier nap. Then he straightened the sitting room, disposing of a newspaper and moving several music sheets marked with his latest composition to the other room. Would people sit, he wondered? Or stand? He looked about the room. He hadn’t noticed much about it upon his arrival. All hotels began to look the same after a while. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room, cascading like fallen tears and casting subdued light across a dark green couch with scalloped legs. A round table stood between two straight-backed chairs with cushions decorated in a complicated red floral design. Would there be enough room for everyone? How many did Walt invite? He should have asked. Despite his recent bath, he began to perspire.

Just then there was a knock on the door. It was Walt, looking newly shaven and dapper in a tan linen suit with a blue tie. With him was a man about Walt’s age, whom he introduced as Ralph Landry. “How do you know Walt?” Nathaniel asked him, feigning interest, trying to keep his gaze from wandering to the door.

“Knew one another growing up in Montevallo, Alabama.” Ralph’s accent sounded like a foreign language to Nathaniel: slow, elongated vowels, twice as many, it seemed, than words usually had, and no “r” sounds. “Moved out to New York together for college, and I went on to med school. Now I’m headed back to Montevallo to start my own practice.” Ralph’s face, pink and fleshy, looked like the underbelly of a sow, and he had a particularly thick neck that seemed about to pop open his bow tie.

“Best of luck to you.” Nathaniel cleared his throat and glanced over at Walt, who was taking bottles of champagne out of an apple crate. He forced himself to look back to his companion.

“How’s your younger brother doing?” Walt asked.

“Half-brother,” Ralph corrected him. “He calls himself Mick now.” Ralph’s face turned serious. “He’s at loose ends since graduating from high school.”

“Send him out to California,” said Walt. “Didn’t you tell me he lives for moving pictures? He could get a job out there.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Ralph.

“We can thank Ralphie here for the illegal suds,” Walt said, slapping is friend on the back.

Ralph took a big sip. “Well, let’s just say being able to stitch folks up after a gunshot wound in the middle of the night provides some benefits.” He laughed and took another gulp of champagne. “Have to get a little wop blood on my hands sometimes, but it’s worth it.”

Nathaniel felt a blast of revulsion, knowing Ralph meant the New York underworld of organized crime. One of the head crime bosses had asked Nathaniel to play at his daughter’s birthday party several years ago. He booked an overseas tour to get out of it, fearing his hands might be crushed if he refused.

“You want a drink, Nathaniel?” asked Walt.

Nathaniel shook his head, no.

“Don’t drink, Mr. Fye?” asked Ralph.

“I do not,” said Nathaniel, stifling a sigh. This was a mistake. Frances probably wouldn’t even show, and he’d be trapped here all night while these derelicts went through the half-case of champagne.

“Nathaniel here is looking for sainthood after his death,” said Walt. “All he does is work. So you and I’ll have to drink his share.”

Before Walt could answer, there was another knock on the door. It was John Wainwright, the music promoter, and his wife. Walt had told Nathaniel the wife’s name, but he couldn’t remember it. The palms of his hands were damp. His throat tightened. The pulse at his neck was rapid, yet his breathing felt shallow, like he couldn’t get enough air. He caught a glimpse of the bed in the other room and felt a sudden, intense longing for the feel of the cool sheets on his skin.

To his relief, John Wainwright came over to him and held out his hand, introducing himself. Mr. Wainwright had the kind of face no one would remember in the morning and a limp, clammy handshake, like a faded, damp cloth on a clothesline. His wife wore a black evening gown that clung to her wide hips and large breasts. Her copper red hair was cut in an unflattering blunt bob above the ears. She stared at Nathaniel with eyes rimmed in charcoal-colored liner, grasping in her gloved hands the program from tonight’s concert. “Autograph for me?” She blushed, the fat of her upper arms straining against the elastic of her long white gloves.

He did so, avoiding her gaze. My God, the room was stifling. He reached inside his jacket for his handkerchief and wiped the palms of his hands and then mopped his brow.

“I’m just absolutely thrilled to meet you.” Mrs. Wainwright’s highpitched voice reminded Nathaniel of one of those yappy lapdogs he saw with wealthy New York socialites. “Oh, the excitement in the theatre tonight when your hands hovered over the keyboard before those last notes. I thought the woman next to me might faint. How do you do it?” Her eyes bulged as she leaned forward, so close to his face that he caught a whiff of onions on her breath.

“It’s just my job.” His voice sounded like a rusty gate. He tried to smile, feeling as if his lips were caught against his teeth. “Same as anyone.”

Another knock on the door. Walt, setting down his glass of champagne, moved to answer it. Nathaniel held his breath. He wanted it to be her. And he didn’t want it to be her.

Walt opened the door, and there stood Frances Bellmont. She wore a pale blue gown with rows of fringe all the way up the skirt, which reminded him of the spikes of sea anemones. Fair hair curled around her face, and her stormy eyes were made up with black mascara. They sparkled even from across the room and were, for an instant, the only things Nathaniel could see. He tore his eyes away from her. Yes, he thought, that’s what it felt like to turn away, like a ripping away from something life-giving. Her mother was equally lovely, and Walt was correct, they looked remarkably alike, except Mrs. Bellmont was several inches shorter and wore her hair in longer curls.

The room had gone silent, like an enchanted breeze had woven its way among everyone, rendering them speechless. Walt recovered first, taking the Bellmont ladies’ hands in turn and introducing himself. Nathaniel could do nothing but stare at his shoes and wish for a piano where he could play and hide. And then, like walking in a strong wind, he came forward and put his hand out to Mrs. Bellmont. She took it, and he brought her gloved hand up to his lips in the way he’d seen Walt do many times to young ladies after concerts.

“Mr. Fye, I’m pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Bellmont’s eyes were identical to Frances’s, except without any makeup. She was virtually unlined, but her face was thinner than her daughter’s, showing evidence of her age. He imagined, for a brief, insane moment, that he saw his future, but then her lovely resonant voice, like a stringed instrument, brought him back to the present. “The concert was simply lovely. What a privilege to meet you in person.”

“Mr. Fye, good to see you again.” Frances tugged at her gloves as her eyes shifted about the room. “Are more guests expected?”

“I’m not sure. Walt arranged this.” Frances’s gloves were off now, dangling in her left hand like discarded snakeskins. “Oh, I do hope so. It’s wonderful to be out. You must have such a glamorous life in New York City.” She held out her left hand.

He took the offered hand, but instead of kissing it properly as he intended, his shaking hand seemed incapable of bringing it to his mouth; instead of making contact with her soft skin, he kissed the air just above her knuckles, resulting in a smacking from his lips that sounded like a baby suckling. He felt his ears turn red.

Frances smiled at him and removed her hand, which was the texture of a rose petal. Dazzling, that’s the only way he could think to describe her smile. It reached him someplace deep inside, stirring feelings he didn’t know he had. Was it possible that a man like him could get a woman like Frances Bellmont to love him? If only he were less awkward, less confused.

She stuffed her gloves into the small, black purse she carried. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you have a glamorous life in New York City? I imagine you know actresses and singers. Think of that, Mother.” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, her eyes bright, “I suppose there are hundreds of parties?”

“I’m unsure. I travel much of the time. In fact, I leave for the West tomorrow. I’ll be gone eight weeks.”

“The West? Do you mean California?” asked Frances.

“Yes. All the western cities, including San Francisco and Los Angeles.”

“Hollywood?” Frances clapped her hands together. “How exciting.”

“I suppose.” He wanted to tell her how lonely he was, how comforting it would be to have a wife by his side, but, of course, he could not. Even he knew this was not appropriate cocktail party conversation.

Ralph Landry brought champagne to both the Bellmont ladies and then guided Mrs. Bellmont over to the Wainwrights, leaving Nathaniel alone with Frances. For the second time in less than a minute he wished for a piano, and then he simply wished for music, but there was not a gramophone in the room and no piano at which he might sit and transform into the man featured on posters and programs. Instead, in the glow of the beautiful Frances Bellmont he was merely a large, awkward man in an expensive suit.

He remembered then, as if it were only yesterday, standing at the side of the Grange hall when he was in his late teens, home for a brief visit before he left for New York City to begin another chapter in his tutelage, dressed in a suit made by his mother. For days, while he practiced in the other room, he’d heard the stop and go of the sewing machine, between his scales and notes; his mother unconsciously matched the rhythm of whatever he played—relegated, for her son, to seamstress from her own seat at the piano bench.

That night, at the Grange, a band of the variety Walt had once been part of played as entertainment. There was a fiddler, a banjo player, and a pianist who had no feel for the subtlety of music. The singer was a young woman with a clear, crystal voice; thick, shiny, brown hair arranged in a loose bun at the nape of her neck; and round, blue eyes the color of the sea on a sunny day. She wore a cheap cotton dress, loose like it belonged to an older sister, but Nathaniel could see the roundness of her hips and breasts, could imagine what her thighs might feel like in his hands. And the desire for her rivaled even his ambition, so that for nights afterward he thought of her, staring at the ceiling in his childhood bedroom, which was no bigger than a closet, with walls so thin he imagined he heard the wood rotting in the sea air. He prayed for the thoughts to go away, even while imagining himself as the moderately skilled piano player next to her. He wondered, should this be his small life instead of the large one his mother imagined for him, that he, indeed, had imagined for himself?

But he’d gone away, to live with his mentor, and it would be years before he acted on his base desires with a prostitute in New York. While he thrust into the half-used-up immigrant girl who spoke only the romantic, lyrical Italian of her native country, he closed his eyes and imagined the singer. It was only after he was done that he truly looked at the girl’s face and saw her humanity. She was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister. What had he done? Sickened, his lust was immediately replaced by a terrible feeling of regret and shame that lived in his gut for months afterward, like a flu from which he couldn’t recover. But he was a man, and there were others from time to time, all women who traded pleasure for money. It shamed him, each one, and yet he was a slave to his desires. Without a wife, he must turn to these destitute women and then repent on Sundays and ask for forgiveness. How lonely it was, this life that was his destiny. The feeling of desolation lessened only when he played. And so he did. Day after day. Night after night.

Now, at this makeshift party, Frances drank her champagne as if it were water. Think of something to say, he commanded himself. Cigarettes. Offer a cigarette. Women liked that. Did they like that? He had no idea what women liked. “Would you like a cigarette?”

“No thank you. Not in front of Mother. She has this ridiculous notion it’s bad for a woman’s complexion.”

He put them back in his coat pocket without taking one for himself and then stuffed his hands in his pockets. Under his jacket, he drew his stomach to his backbone, cringing inside. He caught Walt’s eyes and silently begged him for rescue. Walt understood, apparently, because he brought Mrs. Bellmont over to where Nathaniel stood with Frances and offered his arm to the younger woman. “Miss Bellmont, come with me. I’ll introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright. And my old friend, Ralph Landry.”

After they had gone, Mrs. Bellmont smiled up at Nathaniel. “Frances was awfully happy to be invited to a party. We don’t have nearly as an eventful life as she wishes.” Her accent was slightly different from Frances’s, clipped with more distinct “r” sounds.

This was something, he thought. Something to ask. “Are you from Georgia originally?”

“A small town in Mississippi, but I’ve been in Georgia for more than twenty years now.” She paused, glancing over to where Frances was now talking with the Wainwrights. “Frances tells me you’re from Maine. I’ve read it’s beautiful there.”

“I’ve never been anywhere prettier.” A surge of pleasure exploded inside him. Frances had spoken about him to her mother. Perhaps she liked him a little. “If you can stand the winters.”

“How does your father earn his living?”

“Lobster. Worked the cages almost every day of his life, pulling up those crates with his bare hands, often to find only one or two lobsters at a time.”

“He’s passed, then?”

He nodded, feeling the ache in his chest that had taken a year to subside. “Three years ago.”

“He lived to see your success?”

“Yes.”

“He must have been quite proud.”

“I believe so. He wasn’t one to talk much. My mother told me he used to listen to my recordings every single day before he died.”

His mother had been his first teacher, but after several years she decided he’d surpassed her ability to teach him and found a teacher of considerable reputation in the next town over. He remembered, vividly, his father taking the boat out on Sunday afternoons, even though it was the Sabbath, to catch additional lobsters to pay for Nathaniel’s lessons. “You can’t imagine what they gave up for me to have this life.”

“I’m sure I can.” She played with the collar of her gown, a lovely light green that reminded him of gowns he’d seen in Paris last year. He thought of his mother’s one decent dress, ironed faithfully every Saturday night to wear to church the next morning, until the fabric thinned at the elbows and frayed at the hem. “My grandmother did the same for me. And we must never forget those sacrifices.” Mrs. Bellmont smiled and took a small sip of champagne.

“Is Frances your only child?”

“No, I have a son. Whitmore.” Her face lit up when she said her son’s name.

From across the room Walt laughed and clinked glasses with Mrs. Wainwright and Frances. Nathaniel must have sighed because Mrs. Bellmont’s kind eyes met his as she touched the sleeve of his jacket. “What’s wrong, Mr. Fye?”

He blinked. “Nothing really.”

“You don’t usually host parties, I imagine?”

“Never.” He turned toward her. “I find it difficult.”

“Meeting new people?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve had to live a disciplined life. It doesn’t leave much time for social engagements.” Her voice was sympathetic, understanding. “So why tonight?”

He took his hands out of his pockets. The bubbles in Mrs. Bellmont’s glass floated one by one to the top of her drink.

“I suggested the party for the sole purpose of seeing your daughter. I also wanted to meet you properly so that I might ask if I could call on her when I return from the West. But when she was in front of me, I couldn’t think of one thing to say.”

Mrs. Bellmont was silent for a moment, twisting the stem of her champagne glass with her fingers. “When I married, my husband paraded me in front of people like I was a prize racehorse. I have a nervous stomach, and I’d be sick for hours beforehand. I had to figure out a way to get through those engagements.”

“What did you do?”

“You’ll laugh.”

He smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time that night. “I promise not to.”

“I found a book called The Lost Art of Conversation, by Horatio Sheafe Krans. I probably should have read Emily Post instead, but I’m one to look to the masters first, so I muddled through each of the essays, and do you know what I learned?”

He put his hand up to his heart. “Tell me, Mrs. Bellmont, and save me from a life of solitude.”

She laughed. “It all comes to this.” She raised one hand in the air like a preacher. “Ask questions.”

“Questions?”

“Precisely. Begin every conversation by asking a question of the other person. It never fails me. People love to talk about themselves.” She looked, once again, over at Frances, who was now talking with Mr. Wainwright, and then back at Nathaniel. “Mr. Fye, you must come visit us. This isn’t the setting to talk with Frances properly.”

“You might think I’m too old for her. I’m thirty-two.”

“Frances is twenty. Quite old enough to marry. My husband’s ten years older than I am. I see nothing wrong with it. Anyway, her father will like it if you call on her at our home. He’ll be delighted that a man of your reputation is interested in Frances.” She took another sip of her champagne.

“Do you think she would consider me?”

Her face softened further as her eyes turned a deeper shade of gray. “I didn’t raise a fool, Mr. Fye.”

“That’s kind. Thank you.” He forgot himself for a moment, forgot his terrible wanting of young Frances Bellmont and his paralyzing shyness. The room was beautiful and so were his party guests, and, in the company of Mrs. Bellmont, he felt like the kind of man who laughed at parties and thought of questions and answers. It was good, this, to have people around him, and he felt hope, too, for a future that might include the beguiling Frances Bellmont and her lovely mother.

Then, he noticed Frances and Walt across the room in a corner by themselves. Frances leaned into Walt, whispering something in his ear. Walt flushed and shook his head. A moment later Walt left Frances and came to stand next to him. “Excuse me, Mrs. Bellmont, but it’s getting late, and our prodigy here needs his beauty rest.”

Mrs. Bellmont set her glass on the table behind them. “Oh, of course. It’s getting late for us, too.” She waved to Frances. “Time to go, darlin’.”

Frances stood next to Ralph Landry now; he poured more champagne in her glass. “But we just arrived,” said Frances.

“Nathaniel has a busy day tomorrow,” said Walt. Nathaniel stared at him. He’d never heard Walt sound so cold. What had happened?

Frances glared at Walt while drinking the rest of her champagne in one swallow.

Everyone else bustled about, getting ready to leave. Goodbyes were made until it was only the Bellmont women left, standing in the doorway, and Walt, gathering the empty champagne bottles.

“Good night, Mr. Fye,” Frances said. “It was awfully nice of you to invite us.” Behind them, Walt flung bottles into the apple crate. Frances leaned forward, pulling at the lapel of Nathaniel’s suit jacket, and whispered in his ear. “Please tell me I’ll see you again soon?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Mr. Fye’s agreed to call on us at the house when he returns from California,” said Mrs. Bellmont to her daughter.

Frances gave Nathaniel her hand. “Something to look forward to then, even though it seems terribly far away.” She paused, looking up at him from under thick lashes. “I can’t remember a better evening.”

Nathaniel kissed both women’s hands and bid them good night. After he closed the door, he turned toward Walt, grinning. “She wants to see me again. I can hardly believe it.”

“I don’t think Frances Bellmont’s a good idea.” Walt went to the table and poured a last bit of champagne into his glass from the open bottle on the table.

“Why? Did something happen between you?”

“Let’s just say I know women, and she’s trouble.” Walt downed the champagne in one gulp and thumped the glass down on the table. “You could have your pick of women, you know, if you could conquer this shyness.”

“I tried tonight, Walt. I thought you’d be pleased.” He deflated, like a cake just taken from the oven into a cold room.

“I want you to be happy. I know you’re lonely, the way we work all the time. Hell, so am I. But you have to be careful of beautiful women. They come at a price.”

“They do?”

“The most important decision of any man’s life is who he chooses as his wife. Remember that.” Walt picked up his jacket from one of the chairs and draped it over his arm. “Miss Bellmont is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. That also makes her the most dangerous.”

Walt was out the door before Nathaniel could think of what to say.

 

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The war is over. But some wounds take time to heal...

The 1950's are in full swing, and for some, World War II is just a grim memory. Young Adam Beaumont, the son of a wealthy aristocratic family, is a commissioned officer in the Royal Air Force. With Adam's uncle wielding considerable influence, he is next in line for the Baronetcy. But Adam cares little for family politics, and is still haunted by the murder of his Malayan mother at the hands of the Japanese.

At a debutante ball, Adam overhears whispers of scandal. Beau, his pompous and arrogant cousin, claims Adam is illegitimate... that his father and mother never married, and he is not worthy of the family estate. With no marriage certificate to prove otherwise, Beau's insult strikes a nerve, and Adam's blood boils. He is determined to prove his cousin wrong, by any means necessary...

Traveling to Hong Kong to work in his uncle's branch of the family business, Adam delves into his family's wartime past. Desperate to find a witness to his parent's wedding, the young man makes the acquaintance of his father's old friend, Perry Marshbank. But in the years since the war, Perry has become a wanted drug lord, with deep ties to the underworld. And his motives for helping the young Beaumont are questionable indeed...

From the silken boudoirs of Hong Kong to the glitzy theatre palaces of New York, Each to His Own weaves historical fact and fiction into a memorizing tapestry. Fans of Ken Follett, James Michener, and Wilbur Smith won't want to miss the next epic chapter in the Beaumont saga.

There are some days when being the Garda Sergeant of a small Irish town really tests me. Having to police my family and friends is a necessary evil, but when I'm faced with arresting half the children in the town, and discovering someone close to me among the offenders, well, those days I really wish I'd chosen a different career.

Irate parents are not my only problem unfortunately, as I'm then called to manage a baying mob of strangers, bearing placards and demanding change. I'm all for peaceful protest, but these people were threatening the vulnerable, and I'm just not having that.

So, after a very long week, I just want to go home and put my feet up, when a dramatic, decades-old secret is revealed. It shocks everyone in the family to the core, and it feels like everywhere I turn, where once there was trust and honesty, now there are nothing but lies.

I usually know what to do for the best, but faced with this, I'm unsure. Should I trust my instincts and bend the rules, or should I apply the law to the letter?

It began with a breakthrough. In interspecies communication. Leading both John Clay and Alison Shaw through a series of startling discoveries and life-altering revelations. Divulging who we really are as a species. Why we are here...and who is here with us.

And the greatest lesson of all, that our brains are not as rare and unique as humans had assumed. But rather just one of three brains between three extraordinary species. All influenced by a fluke of evolution that should never have existed on Earth in the first place. Something we are now finally on the cusp of understanding.

It will take more than just one brain to do it. More than just one species. And courage from all three.

Courage in the face of those still trying to stop Clay and Alison before their stranglehold on the world is lost.

But Clay and his team already know the truth. That there is no courage without fear, and no victory without sacrifice.

Two best friends divided by war. Can an Englishman and an Afrikaner carve out an existence for their families in the savage bush?

South Africa, 1887. Son of a tyrannical English sea captain, Sebastian Brigandshaw loves his childhood sweetheart and his country. But before he can marry, his cruel father banishes him and his broken heart to the British South African colonies. With the beauty of the backcountry and the goodwill of local Afrikaner Tinus, Seb builds a new life despite the threat of another Boer War on the horizon.

Ignoring the tensions threatening their land, Seb and Tinus grow close, determined to create a life on a farm with their two families. But as hostilities open between the Boers and the British, war places the devoted friends on opposite sides.

Can Seb and Tinus's friendship survive the brutal conflict, or are they destined to fight to the death for their countries?

Echoes from the Past is the first book in the gripping Brigandshaw Chronicles historical fiction series capturing the beautiful untouched wilderness of Southern Africa. If you like friendships battling against all odds, rich settings, and history-come-to-life, then you'll love Peter Rimmer's captivating saga.

2017 Beverly Hills Book Award Winner in New Fiction
2017 Beverly Hills Book Award Winner in Women's Fiction
2018 IBPA Ben Franklin Finalist in Best New Voices: Fiction
Becca Meister Fitzpatrick--wife, mother, grandmother, and pillar of the community--is the dutiful steward of her family's iconic summer tradition . . . until she discovers her recently deceased husband squandered their nest egg. As she struggles to accept that this is likely her last season in Long Harbor, Becca is inspired by her granddaughter's boldness in the face of impending single-motherhood, and summons the courage to reveal a secret she was forced to bury long ago: the existence of a daughter she gave up fifty years ago. The question now is how her other daughter, Rachel--with whom Becca has always had a strained relationship--will react. Eden is the account of the days leading up to the Fourth of July weekend, as Becca prepares to disclose her secret and her son and brothers conspire to put the estate on the market, interwoven with the century-old history of Becca's family--her parents' beginnings and ascent into affluence, and her mother's own secret struggles in the grand home her father named "Eden."

About the Author
Blasberg, Jeanne: - Jeanne McWilliams Blasberg began her career on Wall Street and later worked in strategic planning at Federated Department Stores in Cincinnati before making her way to Boston, where she worked as a Research Associate at Harvard Business School.Writing case studies and business articles, however, couldn t satisfy her creative longings. Today, she is on the board of directors and is an avid student at Grub Street, one of the nation s preeminent creative writing centers, where she is hard at work on her next book.Jeanne and her husband split their time between Boston and Westerly, RI and have three grown children.When she s not writing, Jeanne can be found playing squash, skiing, or taking in the sunset over Little Narragansett Bay.Blasberg, Jeanne McWilliams: - Jeanne Blasberg is a voracious observer of human nature and has kept a journal since childhood. After graduating from Smith College, she surprised everyone who knew her by embarking on a career in finance, making stops on Wall Street, Macy's and Harvard Business School, where she wrote case studies and business articles. A firm believer that you are never too old to change course, Jeanne enrolled at Grub Street, one of the country's pre-eminent creative writing centers, where she turned her attention to memoir and later fiction. Eden is her debut novel. Jeanne and her husband split their time between Boston and Westerly, RI. When not writing, she can be found playing squash, skiing, or taking in the sunset over Little Narragansett Bay. For book group questions and to learn more, please visit www.jeanneblasberg.com.

From New York Times bestselling author Joanne DeMaio comes a beautiful novel about a little town you'll want to visit, and a love story you won't soon forget.

Harry Dane lives an ordinary life. From his days working alongside his father at a New England general store, to Harry's endearing and heartbreaking relationships, to sudden snowstorms, to quirky fiascos of found kittens and spilled jam jars, always...always there is a curious constant. 

Through it all, each and every winter, a Christmas card arrives at Harry's Craftsman bungalow from a mysterious woman named Sadie Welles. And when the two of them unexpectedly meet, Harry Dane soon finds himself in an intricate love story spanning Eighteen Winters.

Author Bio:

Joanne DeMaio is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary fiction. The novels of her ongoing and groundbreaking Seaside Saga journey with a group of beach friends, much the way a TV series does, continuing with the same cast of characters from book-to-book. In addition, she writes Winter Novels set in a quaint New England town. Joanne lives with her family in Connecticut.

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War is inevitable, with two enemies finding themselves fighting on the same side. But one wants peace, the other intent on murder

With his Oxford days over, Harry Brigandshaw spends an idyllic summer at Purbeck Manor in the heart of the Dorset countryside and home to his friend Robert St Clair. Harry meets the young and impressionable Lucinda who falls madly in love with him but the love is not returned. Lucinda is to never forget.

The utopia of summer comes crashing down when Harry receives a devastating telegram from Africa. He must return home. Immediately Together, Harry and Robert set sail for Rhodesia and to Harry's beloved Elephant Walk. What was a mapped out future has now been crushed.

The years pass and 1914 approaches with England declaring war on Germany. With the conflict now in full swing and those closest to Harry enlisting in the army, Harry's brother is killed in action. Devastated, Harry enlists for vengeance. As he moves up the ranks, a past acquaintance from Oxford is also making a name for himself - the invincible killing machine, Fishy Braithwaite.

Fishy becomes jealous and a burning hatred begins to simmer. The motive turns personal. Winning is not so important. But who is Fishy after? Who will he kill?

Elephant Walk is the second book in the gripping Brigandshaw Chronicles historical fiction series with Peter Rimmer bringing to life the savagery and futility of war in Europe and the sheer beauty of Africa. If you like real-life people and their situations facing crises beyond their control, then you won't want to miss this next instalment of Peter Rimmer's saga.