Doc is a veterinarian whose backyard is filled with animal friends, including Margie the myopic, sniffing skunk. One day, a mysterious visitor makes a mess and the animals must find the intruder. Will their adventures lead to more trouble or love at first smell?

A great book for children who are afraid of the dark.

Join big sister as she teaches her little brother how to go with the moon and overcome his fear of the dark.

"Golden Lies is an absolute treasure, a fabulous, page-turning combination of romance and intrigue. Fans of Nora Roberts and Elizabeth Lowell will love Golden Lies." —Kristin Hannah, New York Times bestselling author of The Nightingale

Every family has secrets—some too intriguing to resist… some too dangerous to ignore…

A novel about three remarkable families—the fifty-year-old promise that once bound them together, the fiery betrayal that tore them apart, and the ancient bronze dragon that could destroy their future...

Riley McAllister, Paige Hathaway, and Alyssa Chen come from very different worlds. Tough guy Riley has overcome the hard knocks of a working-class upbringing. Paige struggles to define her place as the heir to a famous antiques emporium. And Alyssa feels trapped by the restrictions of her family's old world attitudes. Now this unlikely trio of strangers must come together to follow an elusive trail through the streets of San Francisco—from glittering Pacific Heights to colorful Chinatown to trendy south of Market. Each will have to make the impossible choice between romantic love and family loyalty, between sheltering lies and revealing truth. Once the door to the past is opened, there's no turning back…

More Reviews:
"Freethy's smooth prose, spirited storytelling and engaging characters are sure to send readers on a treasure hunt for the author's backlist books." —Publishers Weekly

"A priceless Chinese artifact, an ancient curse, and a decades-old betrayal set the stage for this gripping story, which unites the grandchildren from three diverse, yet strangely linked, families and sweeps them from the rarified world of high-priced antiques to the fragrant alleys of San Francisco's Chinatown on an urgent quest to unravel the past's secrets. Multidimensional characters at all levels (especially the strong-willed hero and heroine), realistic and sometimes funny dialog, and a well-constructed plot that Freethy unwraps with such consummate skill that the conclusion is at once surprising and totally logical result in a rich and compelling tale." —Library Journal

"The lives of three families collide and intersect in this wonderfully intriguing new drama by bestselling author Freethy." —Romantic Times Magazine

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. 

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2021 San Francisco Writers Conference Young Adult Writing Contest Winner

Alicia Ortega, a 14-year-old Mexican girl, struggles to protect her father's land when she and her older sisters are aggressively courted by land-hungry Yankees and rough-cut fur traders in the Spanish colony. It's up to Alicia, her sister Clara, and their Chumash friend Nina to shoulder the responsibility of caring for the Ortega home and business.

When Alicia's oldest sister is sent to finishing school in Texas for protection and refinement, the remaining younger sisters must run the rancho alone. Dangers on all sides begin to descend as the sisters are pursued by Yankee immigrant merchants and sailors hoping to cash in on rich lands and access to Pacific ports.

Alicia is trying her best to keep her family's home and business afloat and thankfully, her companion, Nina is there to help. But as an indigenous girl, Nina is valuable to traders, trappers, and surveyors for her knowledge of the Californian terrain and her network of tribal relations. However, she won't always be there to help Alicia's family, especially since she has problems of her own. The Franciscan Mission is pressuring her family to convert to Catholicism, a charming trader is courting her, and, worst of all, their tribal territory and tribal ways are vanishing.

The girls struggle to protect the Ortega family's land and black market dock from conniving suitors, but tough family secrets are threatening everything, and Alicia doesn't know if they'll be able to survive until her parents return.

Author Bio:

Dr. Perez Ferguson is a cross-cultural educator and consultant. Her fiction brings to life the voices of California inhabitants living 200 years ago. Her non-fiction promotes the voices of under-represented communities in the twenty-first century. This earned her the 2014 Lacayo Lifetime Achievement Award from the United States Hispanic Leadership Institute. She is an Advisor and Former Chair for the InterAmerican Foundation and a Visiting Lecturer for the Council for Independent Colleges. She enjoys living and writing on the Pacific coast.

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Gone Mia Deadly Deception A Psychological Thriller

Love can blind us to mortal danger...

Small town introvert Mia Agostini has long wondered if "the one" will ever find her. Then, one day, when her car breaks down, the handsome and handy Alex Bartlett comes to the rescue, offering more than a tire change. Mia is instantly smitten, and yet, what begins as a promising romance quickly takes a perilous turn.

Alex is teeming with dark secrets-and isn't anyone's savior.

Soon fleeing her home, Mia finds Alex in relentless pursuit, determined to prevent her escape. Trapped by a deep desire for love, one woman who's long been waiting for change must now step up and claim it.

Embracing her instincts will now be crucial. It's time for a total transformation-and a whole new game of deception...

About the Author
Clink, Kris: - Kris Clink writes about relatable characters who rely on humor and tenderness to navigate their complicated relationships. Set in middle America, her novels are laced with love, heartbreak, and just enough snarky humor to rock the boat.

“Gibbs is a clever and engaging writer, and he has hit gold with gutsy Izzy and her partner, Elton…. An entertaining, witty, and well-plotted murder tale.” —Kirkus

After solving a decades-old cold case murder, Izzy Brown learns no good deed goes unpunished. Arrested, expelled, and back in the sad Florida trailer park where she’s spent most of her life, Izzy’s world has spiraled out of control. But then, the opportunity of a lifetime…

Izzy accepts an invitation to move to England with her best friend, Elton Jones-Davies, and live with his mother in her flat in Graves upon Bones, London’s poshest neighborhood. At her exclusive new private school, Izzy begins seeing a therapist for her anxiety, and life is good—for a minute.

But then Izzy and Elton open an investigation into the unsolved bombing of a local pub and soon uncover illicit affairs, ties to organized crime, and even terrorist plots. Desperate not to squander her second chance, Izzy promised her mother she’d not go looking for trouble. But trouble has found her, and now Izzy must decide whether to press on in her search for the killer, knowing it could cost her everything.

Set in 2009 during the Great Recession and the first wave of the opioid epidemic, Graves upon Bones is the second book in the Izzy and Elton Mystery Series.

Author Bio:

Chad Alan Gibbs is the award-winning author of Two Like Me and You, The Rome of Fall, and the Izzy and Elton Mystery Series. He lives in Alabama with his wife and two sons.

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Everything went wrong. And then she went gray.

At 47, newly divorced makeup artist Lela Bennett is dreading her next steps. Dating. Meeting people. Not letting herself go. But then she runs into Donovan James and tries something different-sleeping with her sexy crush from college. Unfortunately, in a post-orgasm stupor, Lela confesses she was in love with Donovan all those years ago. He responds by leaving while she sleeps. The next morning, her gray hairs are practically taunting her. She knows she has to get it together. Forget men. Embrace her age. Own her gray.

Donovan James is a marketing genius, but his ex-wives will tell you-nothing freaks him out like feelings. Three years after his one-night stand with Lela, he's focused on his daughter's lifestyle company, but unprepared to meet the face of their new beauty brand. It's Lela. With stunning silver locks and new confidence, she's no longer swayed by his charms. When business starts booming, the universe seems intent on throwing them together time and again. And suddenly, two people convinced that romance was behind them are wondering if love could be what's next.

She had everything figured out. But life had other plans.

Melinda Foster had it all - well, almost. A charming vintage apartment in Minneapolis, a rewarding career at one of the city's top marketing firms, supportive friends and a flush bank account. So what if she was nearly forty and single? Or if, when she slowed down long enough to reflect, something seemed to be missing?

One tough break, and one phone call, change everything.

Finding herself at a crossroads, Melinda packs her bags and heads home to rural Iowa. She lands behind the counter of her family's hardware store in the tiny community of Prosper, whose motto is "The Great Little Town That Didn't." When a "for rent" sign beckons her down a dusty gravel lane, she takes charge of a rundown farm and its stubborn animals. And learns that starting over, at any age, isn't for the faint of heart.

Like the sprawling garden she tends under the summer sun, Melinda begins to thrive ... and discovers it's the small blessings that matter the most. But when storm clouds arrive on her horizon, can she hold on to the new life she's worked so hard to create? First in a series.

Author Bio:
Melanie Lageschulte grew up on an acreage in northern Iowa. She's spent much of her professional life telling the stories of Iowa and its residents, including several years as a reporter and editor for the Des Moines Register. Melanie holds a bachelor's degree in journalism and a minor in American history from the University of Iowa. Learn more at fremontcreekpress.com.

“Haint Blue is a highly engaging paranormal mystery filled with frolic, fun, and genuine nail-biting moments as we race to its conclusion. The book is filled with charming and likable characters that will keep you invested throughout.… Stephanie Alexander gives us a really fresh take on the paranormal genre, setting this novel apart from others within the genre.” —Readers' Favorite, 2021 Gold Medalist for Paranormal Fiction

"Charleston's favorite ghost-talking divorcée returns in Alexander's latest supernatural mystery.… A well-told, deeply felt addition to a ghostly mystery series." —Kirkus 

Clairvoyant single mom Tipsy Collins is easing into a post-divorce new normal. She's solved a century-old murder mystery and brought peace to her house. She's rebuilding her artistic career and co-parenting with her ornery ex-husband. She's hopeful that her boyfriend is Mr. Right. Mercurial phantom Henry Mott still haunts her house, but he's become a dear friend. Tipsy plans to return to her lifelong habit of ignoring restless spirits.

A series of sudden financial and personal setbacks leave her feeling like she's back to square one, until a new friendship offers unexpected financial salvation. Ivy More has been haunting a Sullivan's Island cottage since the 1940s. Ivy's eccentric granddaughter, Pamella Brewton, will pay big bucks if Tipsy can figure out how to free her moody, volatile Meemaw. It turns out there was more to Ivy's death than a simple swan dive off the dock at low tide. To complicate matters, Ivy had a secret lover. Shockingly, he's someone Tipsy has seen before.

As Tipsy struggles with heartbreak, her ex-husband's shenanigans, and a growing sense of frustration with life, she turns to Henry for help solving Ivy's mystery. She finds herself learning from her brooding housemate, but also from Ivy, who has far more in common with Tipsy than either of them expect.

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Author Bio:

Stephanie Alexander is a writer and a family law attorney. She lives in Charleston, South Carolina, with her husband, their blended family of five children, and their miniature dachshunds, Trinket and Tipsy.

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Almost two years after her ex-husband moved out, Tipsy Collins was still trying to figure out her life. She’d learned some handy lessons, for sure. When it comes to personal revelations, divorce is the gift that keeps on giving. For example, as her dating life collapsed around her like a house of unpleasantly prophetic tarot cards, she reached the liberating yet disheartening conclusion that she would never understand men, living or dead.

Like most women in their thirties, Tipsy had plenty of experience with the behavior of living men, but she only understood that dead men were just as flummoxing because she lived with one. After a lifetime of avoiding spirits, she’d inherited ghostly roommates when she had the good fortune to move into Miss Callie’s house in the Old Village of Mount Pleasant, across the Ravenel Bridge from Charleston. Thanks to her former brother-in-law’s generosity with his late mother’s home, she didn’t pay rent, but she had to share space with two cantankerous, kooky phantoms. Jane and Henry Mott hadn’t escaped their miserable marriage with ‘til death do us part, but with Tipsy’s help and the mystery of their century-old murder solved, Jane had done the sensible thing. She moved on. A year later, Henry still lingered in Ms. Callie’s house, as confounding as ever.

On this morning a few days after the Fourth of July, Tipsy brushed past him as she hustled her three children—Ayers, Mary Pratt, and Olivia Grace—out the door for camp. “Morning, Henry,” she said under her breath.

Henry sat at the dining room table. He whispered to himself as he wrote in the air with one pale finger. His dark blue eyes followed his imaginary penmanship. Bright red, tousled hair hung in his face. He smiled, as if he’d just noticed Tipsy wrestling her three boisterous kids into submission in the foyer. “Good morning, Miss Tipsy,” he said, “Where are y’all off to today?”

Dropping them at summer camp. Tipsy spoke in her mind. Henry would hear her as clearly as if she hollered through a bullhorn.

“Of course! How could I forget? I apologize, but this chapter of THE GREAT STORY is terribly demanding of my attention.” Even when he was grinning like a fox in the early stages of rabies, Henry cut a dashing figure at Ms. Callie’s antique mahogany table. In the age of kitchen islands, such edifices of formal meals were going the way of the flip phone. Meanwhile, neither Henry nor the furnishings had changed much since he died in 1923.

Which chapter now? Tipsy asked, although she pretty much knew the answer. Henry was compiling his mysterious magnum opus at a speed approximating that of a drunk slug crawling up a slippery wall.

“I’m nearly finished with chapter two!”

Another voice rose in Tipsy’s mind. Her Granna, who had died years ago but shared her talent for seeing the dead and hence some of her headspace, spoke up with her usual country forthrightness. It’s taken him a year to finish two chapters, said Granna. He wants you to transcribe for him, but you’ll have joined me in the afterlife before he’s finished. Why doesn’t he move on now that he can?

I don’t know, Granna, but if he wants to hang around haunting this place, that’s his choice. She looked at the eccentric ghost like her own errant offspring. Besides, I’m used to him at this point, bless his crazy ass heart.

“Y’all have a nice day now,” said Henry. “I’ll take the basket of clean clothes to your room.”

Tipsy gave him a subtle thumbs up. Henry’s telekinetic powers definitely came in handy around the house.

He’s more helpful than Big Ayers was, said Granna, in reference to Tipsy’s famously self-centered ex-husband.

If I have to live with a man, I think I prefer a dead one. Living men drive me to drink.

Still getting the heebie-jeebies from Will?

That’s as good a way as any to describe his vibes lately.

The kids’ arguing recaptured her attention. Little Ayers had typical nine-year-old boy morning energy. He was singing a borderline inappropriate rap song he’d heard on YouTube at his father’s house. He tugged one of Olivia Grace’s curly brown pigtails while bouncing his soccer ball on his knee.

“Stop it,” said O-liv.

“Ayers, stop it. Hold onto the ball. What’s that song? I don’t like the sound of it.”

“It’s the clean version, Mom.”

He’d lately switched from Mama to Mom, reminding her that there was a lot more YouTube in her future.

Tipsy helped Mary Pratt sling her camp backpack over her shoulders. “Your bathing suit and towel are in—”

“Where’s my lunchbox, Mama?” asked Mary Pratt. “Did you put fruit snacks in there?”

“Ayers, staaaaap!” Olivia Grace was about to lose it. While she was often the most compliant member of the Collins Kids Triad, she’d been known to clobber her siblings when they pushed her.

“Ayers Lee! You’re almost ten years old, for heaven’s sake. Leave your sister alone!”

“She started it! She called me a poophead!”

“Oh lord, are we revisiting poophead? O-liv, no more poophead.” Tipsy reached for M.P.’s lunchbox. She planned to head straight to Sullivan’s Island to discuss a new painting commission after drop off, so she wore wedges and a long sundress. As a freelance artist, commissions were her most important source of income. She always dressed up to meet a potential client, but her outfit was not kid-friendly. As she handed over the pink rectangle, she stumbled on her hem and stepped on her own toe.

“Damnit!” she yelled. “Shit!”

The kids shut up mid-complaint.

“You okay, Mom?” Ayers flipped his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes.

“She cussed,” Mary Pratt whispered to Olivia Grace. Olivia Grace grimaced in acknowledgement. The two girls, as identical at seven-years old as they had been as newborns, didn’t need to talk to communicate any more than Tipsy had to speak to talk to Henry or Granna.

Tipsy looked in the hallway mirror and straightened her dress. A tall, slim woman with wavy brown hair and gray eyes stared back at her. She appeared only mildly frazzled. No parenting induced eye tick yet, but hell, it wasn’t even eight in the morning. Still plenty of time for her hair to stand on end and her mascara to run. She smiled at her reflection as if practicing for a television interview. Money was always tight in her post-divorce life, and she needed this commission.

Her phone dinged insistently as she gave Little A his water bottle. “Yes, buddies. I’m fine. I’m sorry I cursed, but y’all are driving me batty. Let’s all try to chill out, okay?”

“Sorry,” said Ayers. “Sorry, O-liv.”

“S’okay,” said Olivia Grace.

“I don’t need fruit snacks,” said Mary Pratt.

“All good, y’all. Please get in the car.”

They meandered out the front door, chatting and laughing with the abrupt conviviality of children, while Tipsy grabbed her purse. She looked at her phone.

Will Garrison Text Message (2)

It’s about time, she thought. He’d been distant the past week and hadn’t texted a good morning. She swiped across the text.

Will: Did you go to Pamella’s about the commission yet?

Tipsy: No, I told you, I have to drop off the kids first. Driving to Sullivan’s after.

The question irritated her. Will had connected her with Pamella Brewton, as he’d done carpentry work on her house. His sporadic communication of late harped on this meeting.

Tipsy: Why do you keep asking?

She stuck the phone in her purse and walked down Ms. Callie’s front steps with the July sun baking her shoulders. She checked the kids’ seatbelts and got into her old faithful Tahoe. Her phone dinged again as she buckled her belt. She tried and failed to ignore it. She couldn’t stop herself. Her arm might as well have belonged to someone else.

She swiped across Will’s next text.

Just let me know how it goes. And can I come over tonight to talk?

Tipsy’s heart sank. Will Garrison was no chatterbox. If he wanted to talk, it couldn’t be good.

Tipsy dropped off the kids—the girls to swim camp and Little Ayers to soccer camp—without sending Will any messages demanding clarification. So frustrating of him to drop a “talk” on her with no context, but she refused to question him and then wait for another vague text that would likely increase her anxiety. She drove over the Ben Sawyer Bridge, but she didn’t slow down to admire the stretch of picturesque marsh between Sullivan’s Island and Mount Pleasant. Her mind raced over the past year as she crept through Sullivan’s quaint business district, with its coffee-wielding pedestrians and stop-and-go golf cart traffic.

Will initially started acting weird around Thanksgiving. He’d cited his frustration at having a girlfriend to answer to during deer season, and she thought he was breaking up with her. She was crushed, until she realized he wasn’t really going anywhere. She gave him space and he slowly came back around. By February, with deer season over and Will not much of a duck hunter, things almost returned to normal. Tipsy understandably felt more insecure about their relationship, however, and not only because of the break up scare. As their first bucolic summer together faded behind them, frustrating trends emerged that neither Tipsy nor Will seemed able to resolve.

When she was brutally honest with herself, she knew she’d always struggle to give Will the long leash he wanted. His idea of an appropriate leash was more like an invisible fence. She never understood where the boundaries were. Tipsy didn’t think of herself as high-maintenance, but she did have expectations. She was happy for Will to spend time on the weekends hunting or fishing, as long as their relationship remained a priority. After all, she’d already been a deer stand widow in her marriage.

As for herself, she continued to wish Will would be more expressive. She thought with time and patient encouragement, he’d open up more, but she’d accepted that Will would never be one for effusive declarations of love or long, deep conversations about feelings. Tipsy had gone so long without any of that, she found herself craving it.

Maybe we’ll never be able to make each other happy, she thought.

Her emotions did an about face, as they always did. She loved so many things about Will. He was as steady as a summer day was long. He was always there to help when she needed him, whether it be connecting her with new painting clients through his work as a residential contractor or fixing her garbage disposal. Most complicating of all, their lives were as entwined as the invasive vines that crept up the walls of Ms. Callie’s house. The twins regularly had sleepovers with his two younger daughters. Her two best friends, Lindsey and Shelby, were married to his closest old friend (P.D.) and dating his closest new friend (Brian), respectively.

Lastly, and not unimportantly, they never lacked for physical chemistry. She still got the tingles when he ran his hand up her arm. Given the big messy picture, she’d decided the good outweighed the bad. She’d made the conscious decision to stick it out.

Am I settling or expecting too much? She’d never figured out the answer to that question. Granna, who married the first boy she ever kissed and lost him to bladder cancer twenty-some years later, didn’t know either.

She missed Jane, Henry’s wife. If she still haunted the house, Tipsy could talk to her about Will. Jane had always listened while offering snippets of practical advice. She was compassionate without being judgmental. Tipsy knew what Lindsey would say (“Just give him some time!”) and what Shelby would say (“I love Will but if he’s back on his bullshit, then screw him!”).

I tend to agree with Shelby, said Granna.

Tipsy pondered as she drove past Sullivan’s Island Baptist Church into the historic district known as Moultrieville. Isn’t there something in between? Between a mile long leash and screw you? Between settling for less and expecting perfection? And why am I still asking these questions?  Frustration roiled in her midsection. I’ve been divorced for going on two years. Shouldn’t my life be sorted out by now?

Granna didn’t provide an answer, which meant she didn’t have a good one for those questions, either. Tipsy followed her phone’s directions down Middle Street toward the south end of Sullivan’s. While the northern Breach Inlet side of the island had a sparse, grassy beach town feel, the southern end had a small town Steel Magnolias vibe; that is, if Chinquapin Parish had included Revolutionary War fortifications. The oldest remaining homes were mostly tiny bungalows, but a few pseudoplantation houses with traditional double-decker piazzas lingered on Officer’s Row, a section of historic military housing on I’On Avenue. Ancient live oaks had observed the island’s long, dark history, including a tragic stint as a quarantine station for enslaved Africans. Post-Civil War, an African American farming community had slowly transitioned to an exclusive seaside enclave. Brick ranchers from the 1960s with hodgepodge additions huddled beside towering contemporary board and baton mansions. As always, Sullivan’s was proudly disorganized and eccentric. The architectural version of an academic convention; an eclectic mix of sleepy tenured professors and arrogant doctoral students.

She took a few sharp turns onto Thompson Avenue near Station 14, on the Intracoastal side of the island along the marsh. She looked up as her phone announced that she had arrived at her destination.

Will had told her that Pamella Brewton— Pam-ella, with two l’s, don’t forget— was a little eccentric.

From the looks of this place, said Granna, he wasn’t telling tales.

The house was one of the island’s clapboard senior citizens. Butterflies, moths, and fat bumble bees flittered over a front yard covered in white daisies and yellow brown-eyed susans. Purple wisteria blossoms and Confederate jasmine swarmed over the trellis above the front gate. The archway looked as if it were made of flowers instead of the same rotting wood that made up the fence. A cracked flagstone path led to a two-story house on raised pilings. Five crooked steps ended in a wide, slightly lopsided porch furnished with four red rocking chairs and a Charleston green joggling board. The strangest thing about the whole place, however, was the color.

Everything from the siding to the shutters to the fence itself was painted in shades of pale blue. Given the peeling state of it all, it was an old paint job, and a stubborn one. A bit of fading here and there, but otherwise that blue paint clung to the wood like a bad case of frostbite.

Haint blue? Tipsy asked Granna.

Looks like it, but my word, someone got a mite carried away.

Tipsy nodded her agreement. Normally haint blue—the shade of pale blue common to South Carolina porch ceilings—was one of her favorite colors. This house’s color scheme reminded her of diluted toilet bowl cleaner, or mouthwash spit in a sink.

It took a moment to make sense of the darker blues and sea greens that interrupted all that used Listerine. At least ten bottle trees dotted the yard. They rose out of the flowers, iron crab legs capped with cobalt claws. A few were crafted from driftwood. Those upright arboreal skeletons reminded Tipsy of morbid Christmas trees decorated with spacy blue lights.

As she shut off the ignition, she read Will’s text again. She swallowed the lump in her throat like an egret trying to gulp down a particularly large fish. She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and got out of the truck.

Good decision. He threw the ingredients in the pot, said Granna. Let him stew a while.

She pulled the jasmine away from the weathered gray sign on the trellis. True Blue Cottage.

The bottle trees couldn’t possibly be waving at her; they were made of metal or stiff dead wood. Still, something about the sunlight glinting off the blue glass made the whole yard seem topsy-turvy. If I didn’t know how such things worked, I’d think there were spirits moving around in there.

So silly! said Granna. Imagine trying to cram Henry Mott’s lanky behind into one of those itty bitty bottles.

Tipsy walked under the trellis and down the path. The browneyed susans bent toward one another as if they were gossiping about an unwelcome visitor. She climbed the creaky stairs, but when she got to the porch, she turned back to the yard. Sunshine on the pale blue fence created an unpleasant glare. She closed her eyes, but the shape of the bottles remained in splotchy blue streaks in the blackness. She rubbed her face.

The door swung open behind her. It banged against the exterior wall. “You must be Tipsy!”

Tipsy spun around. “Yes. Hey!” The woman before her was probably around fifty, even taller and thinner than Tipsy, with dark curly hair and bright green eyes. She wore a neon pink Bohemian tunic, green and yellow striped cropped jeans with fringe at the bottom, and a pair of sandals that wrapped halfway up her calf. Somehow, it all worked. “Pamella?”

“That’s me, honey! Pam-el-la, with two l’s!” Pamella grabbed her hand and squeezed, hard. Tipsy winced. Still, she couldn’t help but smile back at this pretty woman who dripped enthusiasm like a leaky bucket of happiness.

“Come on in. I am so beyond happy to meet you! When we spoke on the phone, I knew you were the perfect artist for this project. Will Garrison had so many nice things to say about you. So did May Penny!”

“May Penny Collins?” asked Tipsy, surprised at the mention of her former mother-in-law.

“Yes! She and Tripp were friends of my late father.” She peered over Tipsy’s shoulder. Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if the spirits in the bottles might hear her. “It’s pretty impressive to get a glowing reference from your ex-husband’s mother.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve had our moments.”

Pamella tugged her toward the threshold and then abruptly stopped. Tipsy bumped into her.

“Oh, wait. Listen, I inherited True Blue from my daddy a couple years ago. I just moved back to town from Atlanta. So good to be back in the real South.” She wiggled her shoulders. While she didn’t blink for emphasis the way Jane had, she added pizazz to words of import. Mostly in flailing hands, wagging eyebrows, and those shoulders that bounced like she danced to music only she could hear. Pamella talked as fast as a New Yorker, yet her husky voice retained its Southern twang. Like a taxicab horn crossed with a baying hound dog. “I know it looks like a fricked up version of the witch’s house from Hansel and Gretel.”

“It’s truly blue, that’s for sure.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to change it soon, if this works out.”

“Oh, jeez. I don’t do exterior painting. Is that what—”

“Of course you don’t! You’re an artiste extraordinaire!” She dragged Tipsy into the house. True Blue had no foyer. Upon crossing the threshold, they were in the living room. A brown leather sofa and matching club chair sat around a hideous coffee table with a glass top and a base made from an old boat propeller. No carpets on the old hardwood floors. Faded beachy prints on the walls and a faint musty smell.

Pamella led her toward the kitchen in the back of the house. It was as fresh as the rest of the house was dated. White cabinets, white quartz countertops, and light wide plank wood floors courtesy of Will. An oyster shell chandelier hung over the island. All perfectly orderly, with the exception of two empty sauvignon blanc bottles and a wine glass in the sink. Pamella pointed at a bare expanse of wall behind the rustic kitchen table. “I’d like to hang it here.”

“Perfect.” Tipsy sized up the wall. “You want a painting of the front of the house with you and your father sitting on the stoop?”

“Yes. Or maybe the back. To get the marsh view? I’m not sure yet.”

“I’ll do a bunch of sketches to give you some ideas.”

“Great. I want the figures to be me as a child and him as a younger man. I never knew my mother, so it was just me and Daddy.”

“I’m sorry—”

“She ran out on us when I was a baby. No biggie.”

Tipsy’s own mother had left her, albeit as a teenager and not an infant. Even before her mother had really peaced out, Granna had basically raised Tipsy in her tiny, threadbare house in the rural upstate. Tipsy knew firsthand that maternal abandonment was kind of a biggie, but she didn’t know Pamella from Adam so she kept her mouth shut.

“I can’t believe I don’t have a photo of me and Daddy outside!” said Pamella.

“It’s okay. If you show me a couple pictures of the two of you from back then, it won’t be a problem. I’ll work y’all in however you want. Position, facial expression, whatever.”

“That’s pretty cool. Will said you could paint anything, but I didn’t know he meant, like, anything.” Cue shoulder wiggle.

Tipsy shrugged. She had no way to explain her supernaturally inspired ability to replicate life with paint.

Pamella gestured to the table. “Let’s sit. Can I get you anything to drink?” The lady herself had a large Yeti tumbler. Tipsy shook her head as she joined her.

“I hope I’ll be able to display the painting here.” Pamella sipped from her Yeti. “But if I have to sell the house at least I can take something of it with me.”

“You’re thinking of selling? The market on the island is sure hot.”

“I don’t need to sell it for the money. I need to sell it… because… you know. The you know what.”

“I do?”

“Will didn’t tell you?”

“He told me I was coming out here to talk about a painting commission.”

“You are… and we did talk about the painting. Of course I want the painting. But he didn’t mention anything about my grandmother?”

“I’m sorry?”

Pamella leaned back in her chair. “My grandmother haunts this house. Will told me you have some experience with such things.”

Tipsy about fainted. Her eyes bugged from her head like she was dead herself and someone needed to close them. No living person had ever frankly called out her talent for seeing the dead. She’d confided in exactly two people about it: Granna and Will. Yet Pamella was stating she had some experience with the paranormal in the same way she might ask to look at Tipsy’s paintings on her Instagram feed.

She tried to eke moisture out of her suddenly parched mouth. Maybe she’d misinterpreted Pamella. “Will told you I have experience with what now?”

“Ghosts, lady. He told me you had a similar problem in your own house and you dealt with it.” Pamella snapped her fingers.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you’d found out why the ghosts in your house were stuck there, and then they moved on.”

“Can I have some water?” Tipsy stood and walked past the kitchen island. She opened a few cabinets, and removed a tumbler. She ran lukewarm water from the tap. She needed to guzzle this water and the cold might make her head explode. How dare Will casually tell this woman about her lifelong secret?

Pamella started chattering behind her. “So. Right! My grandmother haunts the house—my father’s mother. Ivy More Brewton. She died in 1944. Fell off the dock out back, bless her heart, when my father was only twelve. She—”

“Ma’am. Pamella. I need a minute. I came out here thinking this was a painting commission, not an invitation to conduct a s.ance.”

“I really, truly do want the painting. But if you can help me with this other problem—”

“How do you even know the house is haunted? Can you see ghosts?”

“No, but I know she’s here. Things happen in this house. Objects move. Doors open and shut. Sometimes, when she’s angry—”

“She gets angry?”

“I think so. When I was a teenager Daddy and I got in an argument about my curfew one night. He was so strict. I was kind of, like, a rebel, but like in an eighties punk rock way that wasn’t that rebellious. Like I wore leather jackets and once I dyed my hair jet black. I wanted to go to a party at— wait. Where was I? Oh, right. We were yellin’ at each other and the coffee table flipped over. Magazines went everywhere. Daddy’s bourbon all over the floor. Then the windows flat out exploded. I still have a scar, where glass hit me.” She showed Tipsy a thin line on the side of her cheek. “It was a loud argument. I suppose we were disturbing her peace.”

“How do you know it’s your grandmother?”

“Daddy couldn’t see ghosts, so he never actually laid eyes on her either. His grandmother, Ivy’s mother Alma More, somehow knew it was Ivy. Maybe she saw ghosts.”

Despite Tipsy’s hesitation, the discovery of a kindred family caught her interest. “It does run in families, but not always in a straight line. My mother has no supernatural talent, but her mother, my Granna, she did.”

“I didn’t inherit anything from Ivy besides my face, from what photos tell me.” She patted her cheek. “Anyway, after Ivy died, Alma warned Daddy about her haunting this place. Alma died long before I was born, so I never got to ask her any questions.”

“So your grandmother—”

“Meemaw. I always wanted a grandmother to like, teach me to bake and sew and stuff. Ivy was as close as I could get. So I call her Meemaw.”

“Meemaw. Okay. Pamella, listen. I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. I’m sure it must be annoying—”

“It’s gone beyond annoying. It’s gotten worse over the years. When I was a child, Meemaw rarely got angry. By my thirties, it got bad. She’d go quiet for a few days and then she’d rage around like our family hurricane. Daddy loved this place, but we couldn’t stay here as often as he would have liked. That’s why Daddy painted the whole damn place haint blue and set up all those frickin’ bottle trees. You know the old stories. Keep the spirits at bay. Trap them in bottles. Yada-yada-yada.”

Tipsy glowered, her sense of justice offended. “He wanted to trap his own mother in a bottle?”

“Is she still his mother? I don’t know anything about this stuff. I’ve tried to do research, but there are a lot of charlatans out there. I mentioned to Will that the house is haunted. He’s the first person that ever gave me any real hope something could be done about it.”

“It seems pretty quiet here now.”

“I’ve only been back for two months. I rented a townhouse downtown. I paid the kitchen contractors bonuses to get things done faster. But she’s starting to get annoyed. I can tell. Two days ago, when I arrived, all the potted plants I’d set up on the porch were turned upside down. Dirt everywhere. Yesterday, I opened the back door, and even though it’s a hundred degrees out, I felt a chill like I’d been plunked down in Antarctica.”

Tipsy filled her water glass again and sat down. “If she’s throwing things around and stuff like that, then she was a seer herself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only ghosts who were able to see ghosts as living beings have that  kind of telekinetic power.” Tipsy thought of Henry knocking over the bookshelf in her kitchen a few days after she moved to Miss Callie’s. How afraid she’d been of his power. It sounded like this woman Ivy was just as volatile, if not more.

It’s one thing dealing with your own restless spirits, said Granna. But someone else’s…

That was enough for Tipsy. “I’m sorry. I hate that you’re having these problems, but I don’t think I can get involved.”

“Please,” said Pamella. “I seriously don’t know what else to do. My father had three houses during my childhood. His family home downtown near the Battery, a new house in Atlanta where he did business, and this cottage. The house downtown was lovely, but I never missed it when he sold it. Atlanta? Not a second thought. Sold it myself when he passed. This place, though—it’s so special. I want to make it happy and cozy again, like when I was little. I’d seriously like to live here, but I can’t if Meemaw can’t find peace. Poor woman, stuck here like a fly between a screen and glass. It’s seriously so sad.”

As much as instinct yelled at her to run out of this house, Tipsy felt the familiar burn of compassion for Pamella and her late grandmother. “I agree. The lingering dead are always sad, believe me. Maybe there’s another way to get some peace around here.” Even as she said it, Tipsy couldn’t think of any other reasonable solution.

“I don’t even know if I could sell the house. In my research I found a legal case from New York or somewhere, where someone got sued for not disclosing a haunted house! How can I sell a place and say, yeah, it needs a new roof, and my dead grandmother might hit you upside the head with a broom? So tacky. And potentially litigious.”

“I get it. But I didn’t give Will permission to tell anyone about my ghosts. It’s a private matter—”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“It’s not that—”

“Fifty thousand.”

“Excuse me?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Tipsy about fell out. “Are you serious?”

“Let’s say three thousand for the painting. Forty-seven for the exorcism!”

Tipsy sat back in her chair. Fifty thousand dollars would be life changing for her. She no longer suffered from painter’s block and she’d been making decent money from her paintings, but she always watched her bank account like a hawk flying above a sneaky fish. Unlike other business endeavors, as an artist she was one person and she only produced so much. She refused to let the quality of her work suffer. That kind of money would finally give her a cushion. She could pay off her credit cards and start saving.

“If you’re sure, and you really have fifty thousand dollars you can just hand over—”

Pamella grinned. “Don’t you worry about that, lady. My daddy left me a lot more than a haunted cottage and a shed full of haint blue paint.”

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The dead monarch Charon was destroyed at Elzinga Asylum, but its impact on the Hourglass strike team continues to affect them, particularly Clyde Williams. With his necromantic powers acting up, he's under the watchful gaze of the Median's rulers, who fear he could be a risk to their kingdom of sleep and the countless souls therein.

But when a familiar and bitter enemy resurfaces, attacks a secret Hourglass facility, kills a high-value Hourglass member, and steals sensitive intel, Clyde is pulled back into service.

Now, Clyde and his teammates must find and stop a powerful new threat: a troubled Spark whose anger issues could potentially lead him to being swayed by the Cairnwood Society's dark agenda.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the creature-filled wastes of Erebus, Kozlov continues his perilous search for the Firmament Needle. A quest whose reverberations will be felt by Clyde, his teammates, and most of all, the volatile new Spark.

A fearsome legend. A long silenced ghost. A modern greed.

When her co-worker and friend, Thomas, suggests they search for the long-lost jewels from an old island legend, dive boat operator, AJ Bailey, is up for the challenge. But their innocent hunt leads them to the run-down shack behind the myth, stirring up far more than timeworn dust.

The struggle over a precious piece of land begins, rekindling a tragic story of young love in the shadow of World War II and the mysteries left unanswered.

Book 11 in this best-selling series set in the beautiful Cayman Islands takes AJ on a wild chase above and below the water.

Read in series order or as stand-alone novels.

For Flynn Barnes, dying is just the beginning of his problems.

After waking up in his Happy Place--as all "graduates" do--he is guided by his Post-Mortem Facilitator to figure out his next move. With a lifetime of criminal behavior, an estranged family, and a vengeful English gangster to deal with, he's still got a lot of work to do.

And as Flynn will discover--even in the afterlife, free will can lead to all sorts of trouble.

Harriet is an intriguing and original "take" on Jane Austen's immortal Emma, by Publishers Weekly's 2021 BookLife Prize Quarterfinalist, Alice McVeigh.

Emma, a privileged young heiress, decides to mentor Harriet Smith, a pretty boarding-school pupil, and to matchmake her as eligibly as she can... But how is she to guess that Harriet has a secret?

Meanwhile, the brilliant, penniless Jane Fairfax consents to a clandestine engagement with Frank Churchill - though not daring to confess, even to him, that she is being relentlessly pursued by her best friend's husband.

Harriet sidelines Emma herself in favour of the ingenious Harriet and the fascinating Jane Fairfax. It is Emma - but an Emma with a surprisingly believable twist in its tail.

"A dynamic take on a revered classic. This is still Austen's Emma-but the story that unfolds through the recollections of these two 'side' characters feels remarkably fresh... With or without an understanding of Emma, Harriet contains a fully-formed narrative that should satisfy even the choosiest Austen fans... Readers will rarely find the words 'page-turner' and 'Jane Austen' in the same sentence, but McVeigh's impeccably written Harriet certainly fits the bill." (IndieReader)

"A highly engrossing novel that captures the spirit of Austen and celebrates all the best qualities of her work from new and innovative angles... The characters are vibrant and full of life - McVeigh hits the mark spot-on." (Readers Favorite editorial review)

"An enchanting recreation of Austen's world" (James Conroyd Martin)

"McVeigh puts a unique spin on this fresh take of one of Jane Austen's most popular works. The characters are vibrant and full of life. McVeigh hits the mark spot-on, capturing the essence of Jane Austen's work and providing a rare glimpse into the headspace of some of her most popular secondary characters. I can honestly say that I didn't foresee the twist towards the end, yet in hindsight, it felt satisfying. Any fan of character-driven novels should grab a copy. (Readers Favorite Editorial review)

Classic regency fiction in the tradition of Pride and Prejudice: Harriet will appeal to Jane Austen groupies, Bridgerton fans and Georgette Heyer lovers alike.

Will you be allowed to pass through to the Second World? Could you escape the terrors of Agenesis? There's only one way to find out...

Skye, your slightly above average teenager, has never left the boring little farm town of Alfaro. Her senior year at Black Pine High School ends up taking a stark turn of events as she meets Olli, who she thought was the school's handsome yet mysterious foreign exchange student. While juggling the challenges of high school, dating, and graveyard golf she starts to realize something is very wrong. Skye begins to see glimpses of an impossible future.

What was believed to be a simple head injury turns out to be much more. As she is taken into the magical Second World, surrounded by royalty, milkweed pixies, and even sorcerers, she is left questioning everything about the life she thought she had in the First World. Skye tries to embrace her new powers, but is also terrified by her discoveries. Can she even trust her own parents anymore? Who or what was the real Skye Hope, and could she live up to the truth?

Don't miss this heartwarming sequel to "Growing Season." The muggy days of August find Melinda Foster's garden bursting at its borders. And two months into an unexpected sabbatical from her bustling life in Minneapolis, Melinda's efforts at her rented farmhouse are starting to pay off: She's learned to preserve produce, outsmart a few headstrong chickens and wrangle a flock of spoiled sheep. But even in the little town of Prosper, nothing stays the same. One member of the hardware store's coffee group shares a startling announcement, and a trip back to the city makes Melinda realize how deep her roots now run in rural Iowa. As the months roll by and the seasons change, Melinda must choose between the security of her old life or taking a chance on an uncertain future.

About the Author
Lageschulte, Melanie: - Melanie Lageschulte is the author of Growing Season and Harvest Season (2017). A third book in the series, The Peaceful Season, is planned for fall 2018. Melanie grew up on an acreage in northern Iowa. She's spent much of her professional life telling the stories of Iowa and its residents, including several years as a reporter and editor for the Des Moines Register. Melanie holds a bachelor's degree in journalism and a minor in American history from the University of Iowa. Learn more at fremontcreekpress.com.

Gold Award MOM'S CHOICE AWARDS(R)

Gold Award Winner 2021-2022 READER VIEWS REVIEWER'S CHOICE AWARDS Early Reader Category

Winner 2022 INDEPENDENT PRESS AWARD Children's: Inspirational/Motivational

Winner 2022 INDEPENDENT PRESS AWARD Picture Books - All Ages

First Place 2021 ROYAL DRAGONFLY BOOK AWARD Children's Nonfiction

First Place 2021 ROYAL DRAGONFLY BOOK AWARD Children's Poetry Books

Winner 2021 PINNACLE BOOK ACHIEVEMENT AWARD Children's Motivational

Runner-Up 2021 INDIES TODAY AWARD Children's

Finalist 2021 FOREWORD INDIES Picture Books, Early Reader

Finalist 2021 BEST BOOK AWARDS Best Interior Design

Finalist 2021 THE WISHING SHELF BOOK AWARDS Books for 6-8 Year Olds

Uplifting picture book of wit and wisdom inspires readers and graduates young and old.

For those preparing for the adventures of life and pursuing their dreams, this charming picture book is a rhyming story of inspirational affirmations that chronicles all of the many wonderful potential futures that lie before us. Have You Ever Wondered What You Will Be? is perfect for inspiration seekers, graduates young and old, someone turning the page to a new chapter in life, and those looking for a meaningful gift.

Through gorgeous painterly illustrations with a whimsical mix of art styles, combining surrealist, classic, and a creative interpretation of the art deco movement, the story's child characters look into mirrors to see what future befalls them. A poignant text introduces the many potential vocations, professions, and callings that are within our grasp, as long as they are pursued with courage and determination.

The story acknowledges that life isn't always perfect and that the path to success and happiness will have peaks and valleys, but what matters is that you don't give up working toward your dream with patience and positivity. Overcoming obstacles and not fearing failure is part of the adventure.

But never forget that at times you might fail,

For failures and flops are part of the tale.

Readers will enjoy some of the book illustrations' architectural labyrinths, reminiscent of such classics as Dr. Seuss, as they are introduced to a myriad of professions including an inventor, an animal rescuer, a software developer, an architect, an entrepreneur, or fitness instructor, among other unique offerings.

A lasting message will stay with the reader long after the book is closed, reminding one that they are unique and special and that they can do anything - the future is wide open.

Praise for Have You Ever Wondered What You Will Be?:

"A whimsical, engaging, beautifully illustrated celebration of imagining the future-obstacles and all." -Kirkus Reviews

"A timeless and visually stunning story that will inspire the boundless potential within readers of all ages." -Reedsy Discovery

"This whimsically illustrated book offers a myriad of fun answers to the age-old question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" With diverse characters and positive affirmations, this inspiring read will delight any hopeful youngster." -BookBub

It started as a marriage of convenience, but falling in love has made it anything but convenient.

Fresh from the humiliating annulment of the love match she always wanted, Lady Anne Vincent meekly agrees to the marriage of convenience her father has arranged. She feels hopeful that this marriage can be one of cordial indifference, protecting her from the hurt she knows so well.

Tobias Cosgrove isn't meant for marriage, free spirit that he is. And yet, as the only son, marry he must. He is thus relieved when his father reveals his future wife to be the calm, collected Lady Anne Vincent, for he is confident she won't plague him with neediness or hysterics like so many of the other young women in society.

But when Lady Anne's past reappears on their doorstep, she and Tobias are forced to confront whether a marriage of convenience is the type of marriage they wish for after all.

“Once again Tess Thompson brings an amazing story to life and I'm already excited for the next book…” —Book Nerd Anonymous

Stone Hickman is the last of a dying breed. The former Marine believes in integrity, service to his country, a hard day's work, and taking care of his loved ones. When he meets the clever Pepper Griffin, their obvious attraction has him ready to count the stunning beauty among the people that he cares for. But Pepper doesn't share the instant connection. In fact, she wants nothing to do with him. And for honest, straightforward Stone, not knowing why only makes the rejection worse.

Pepper Griffin is the epitome of scrappy. For years she's struggled to make acting her career without any help at all from her famous father. While she's still accepting meager roles with little screen time, her best friend has steadily risen to the height of fame. To make matters worse, that very same friend is happily in love, newly engaged, and wants poor Pepper, whose love life is as sad and pathetic as her last film role, to serve as her maid-of-honor while Pepper's enemy, Stone Hickman, is sure to be the groom's best man.

Though Pepper despises the best man, she loves the bride-to-be more. To keep the peace, Pepper willingly includes Stone in the wedding planning process. When the unlikely pair find themselves stranded in a snowstorm while searching for the perfect venue, they'll have to work together to survive the chill even if that means thawing Pepper's heart.

Author Bio:
Tess Thompson is the USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary and historical Romantic Women’s Fiction with nearly 40 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.

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The celebration of the Viking Festival of Fire ensures that thousands descend annually on the the small coastal town of Sheringham, but when one man dies amidst the grand finale, it falls to DI Tom Janssen and his team to identify who the victim was and how he met such a grisly end.

The victim was a local man, successful, hard working and well respected. A motive proves to be elusive. As the case progresses it becomes evident that not all is at it seems. Those within the victim's trusted circle appear unable, or unwilling, to aid the investigation. Someone has a grudge... one strong enough to willingly send a man to his death in the most brutal, and public, manner.

The answer must lie in the victim's past; a past that sees highly decorated military service. The past shapes our future and the consequences of our actions catch up with us. Those with the darkest secrets... with the most to hide... will face a day of reckoning.

Witnesses, friends and enemies alike all appear to employ the same old adage; see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil, but a ruthless killer is on the loose and they want revenge... Janssen and his team must unmask a murderer before they strike again.

Hear No Evil is the fifth novel in a new series of thrillers from Amazon number one bestselling crime writer, JM Dalgliesh, the author of the Dark Yorkshire books. Perfect for fans of LJ Ross, JD Kirk, Angela Marsons, Joy Ellis and Damien Boyd.

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. His greatest challenge of all is ongoing, as a stay at home parent. Having spent time abroad, Jason has lived and worked in various parts of England as well as the Scottish Highlands. He currently resides in Norfolk with his wife and two young children.

"It's Carrie Bradshaw meets Brené Brown, and we're here for it. Heart Boss is the laugh, the cry, the hug, and the spark we all need right now." —Katya Libin and Amri Kibbler, co-founders of HeyMama

Women are doing it all: running companies, nurturing marriages, raising kids, volunteering on boards, and still making Pinterest-perfect cupcakes for the class party, thank you very much.

But we're exhausted.

We're running on hamster wheels and popping Xanax, and in our most private moments, we're wondering the scariest question of all: "Is this it?"

I've been that woman. The harried workaholic. The unhappy wife. The frustrated mom. I was even in a passionate relationship with a woman for two years before marrying my husband. Life is complicated, friends.

The point is, I found my way off the treadmill. This book is me extending my hand to help you off yours.

You are not alone. You are worthy. You are powerful. And you can own your life in such a way that you'll stop asking "Is this it?" and instead start saying "This is it "

Heart Boss is the story of how I learned to let my heart be boss. And, hopefully, it's a story about how you can get there too.

More Reviews:

“Regan is a renegade leading us back to our original boss—our heart, the ultimate voice of authority. Heart Boss is pure entertainment. It's equally inspiring and aspiring." —Amy Jo Martin, investor, Founder/CEO, New York Times bestselling author, and host of the Why Not Now? podcast

"Heart Boss is like reading the diary you never had the guts to write yourself. It's a raw, honest, soulful coming of age, complete with childhood wonder, family hysteria, drunken nights, good sex, falling for the wrong ones, finding the right one, and letting go of everything you should have been to become exactly who you are. Love, love, love." ­­­—Leslie Morgan Steiner, New York Times bestselling author of Crazy Love, Mommy Wars, and The Naked Truth

Author Bio:

Regan Walsh is an executive coach and life coach who finds joy and fulfillment in helping women worldwide lead lives that sizzle. She has worked with thousands of women from Nike to Wall Street and has been featured by media outlets nationwide, including Forbes, Harvard Business Review, Today, Fast Company, and more.

Regan’s own journey has been fraught with self-inflicted stress, unsatisfying busyness, and plenty of needless striving. Thankfully, it has also been a journey of intentional searching and incredible transformation. Regan believes life’s greatest honor is to be exactly who you are, whoever that is. Regan helps women realize that person, be true to her, and find not just happiness, but contentment.

Independently published with Houndstooth Press

A playboy prince in want of a decoy bride.

A servant girl desperate for a disguise...

Raven shifter Prince Franco is every social climbing debutante's dream. He's handsome, heir to the Lunar Court throne, and deliciously single. Every young woman wants to bed him, wed him, or steal a moment of his time. Except, of course, for Ember Montgomery.

Half-fae Ember craves freedom from her conniving stepfamily. As if they weren't enough to deal with, a chance encounter with the arrogant Prince Franco leaves her humiliated and in a fiery rage. Nothing could convince her the prince is anything but a rake. But when the opportunity to evade her scheming stepmother falls into her lap, she'll pay the price-even if it means impersonating the prince's newest flame...

To prove himself a worthy heir, Prince Franco must marry a princess. But after far too many unsatisfying trysts, he's given up on love. With the social season in full swing, and bringing with it a horde of husband-hungry socialites, he'll do anything to delay the pressures of both marriage and the crown. And what better solution than an alliance with a desperate servant girl glamoured as his false future bride?

Locked in a bargain, Ember must pose as a princess until midnight at the full moon ball. Until then, all she has to do is wear the glamour, pretend to court the prince, and above all else, not fall in love. But when feelings emerge on both sides, she starts to wonder if there's more to their contrived courtship than either of them planned...

Can Ember and Franco find love when the masks come off? Or will illusions and lies prove stronger than their hearts?

ACOTAR meets Bridgerton in this standalone fairytale retelling of Cinderella. If you like slow burn romance, fake engagements, and snarky fae royals, then you'll love this swoon-worthy story in the Entangled with Fae series.

*NOTE this book is upper YA/NA featuring mature situations and some adult language. The romance is slow burn but leads to moderate steam.

Heart of the Raven Prince is a complete stand-alone novel set in the same world as The Fair Isle Trilogy. Journey back to Faerwyvae or begin your adventure for the first time with this enchanting tale. Each book in the Entangled with Fae series can be read on its own and in any order. Happily ever after guaranteed!

Billie Murphy's swoon worthy adventures in New York City continue in Heartstruck at Dawn, the second book in the Moonstruck series.

In the wake of her disastrous, and not to mention dangerous, breakup with Thomas, Billie Murphy is once again trying to settle into her busy New York City life. Yes, she's still got some romantic threads to unravel-including her tricky relationship with her longtime bodyguard Caleb and her on-again-off-again flirtation with her handsome Swedish neighbor William-but with Thomas behind her, she's ready to move on just as someone completely unexpected enters her orbit.

Though things may seem to be finally falling into place, Billie can't help but escape the feeling that the people she loves are keeping secrets. Caught between being the little girl everyone wants to protect, and the bold, young woman she knows she is, Billie begins to learn that the danger she thought was behind her may be closer than she thinks. And this time, the stakes could be unimaginably high.

About the Author
Andrade, Alejandra: - Alejandra lives in Mérida, Yucatán, México with her husband and son. She's a music lover, a geek at heart, and a fan of all things Christopher Nolan, Star Wars, LOTR, GOT, et cetera.Moonstruck at Midnight is her debut novel and Book One of the Moonstruck Series. You can find her on social media on Facebook & Instagram as long as her 30-minute social media app limit hasn't elapsed.

Daria has fled to Orindor. She's left the man she loves to accept a marriage proposal from a man she doesn't, hoping to save the people of Gaia from her tyrant uncle. She needs the forces that Lord Danton Pontefract's hand in marriage will provide, and she's running out of time. Her uncle's army of shadowguard have laid siege to the castle of Valdon--where Stefan resides.

Meanwhile, Alexander Del Conte, with Thaddeus and Vera in tow, fights to rally what's left of a broken people in order to lead them in battle against Eris's shadowguard.

But Gaia is just a piece of what Eris wants. And if he isn't stopped, he'll turn his armies toward Earth.

HELEN . . . IS SIXTEEN AND PREGNANT.​ IT IS 1963. ​ ABORTION IS A CRIME. ​ WHAT CAN SHE DO? ​

​Author Wendy Sibbison offers an insightful, thought-provoking perspective in this coming-of-age novel; a poignant exploration of burgeoning womanhood, mother-daughter relations, family dynamics, and sexual awakenings rooted in the mores of an era that offers lessons for the present. Beautifully written, a meaningful read for mature readers of all ages and for book groups interested in the debates about Roe v Wade.

About the Author
Sibbison, Wendy: - Wendy Sibbison practiced law for 35 years. She lives in Western Massachusetts. This is her first novel.