Spotlight: Excerpt from I Made It Out of Clay by Beth Kander

 

By Beth Kander
On Sale: December 10, 2024
ISBN: 9780778368120
MIRA Hardcover 
Price: $30.00

 DECEMBER 2024 INDIE NEXT PICK 
 
In this darkly funny and surprisingly sweet novel, a woman creates a golem in a desperate attempt to pretend her life is a rom-com rather than a disaster. 

Nothing’s going well for Eve: she’s single, turning forty, stressed at work and anxious about a recent series of increasingly creepy incidents. Most devastatingly, her beloved father died last year, and her family still won’t acknowledge their sorrow.

With her younger sister’s wedding rapidly approaching, Eve is on the verge of panic. She can’t bear to attend the event alone. That’s when she recalls a strange story her Yiddish grandmother once told her, about a protector forged of desperation…and Eve, to her own shock, manages to create a golem.
At first, everything seems great. The golem is indeed protective—and also attractive. But when they head out to a rural summer camp for the family wedding, Eve’s lighthearted rom-com fantasy swiftly mudslides into something much darker.

With moments of moodiness, fierce love and unexpected laughter, I Made It Out of Clay will make you see monsters everywhere.

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Excerpt:

I MADE IT OUT OF CLAY

By Beth Kander

The soft growl on the train is coming from me.

I flush with shame at the insistent rumbling of my stomach. Thankfully, the Monday-morning brown line is too crowded with bundled-up commuters for anyone but me to notice the sound. If someone does somehow clock it, they’ll probably assume it’s coming from the pigtailed pregnant woman I gave my seat to at the last stop.

The train lurches, and I nearly drop my peppermint mocha. Technically, you’re not supposed to have open food or beverages aboard, but no one follows that rule. You’ll only get in trouble if you spill on someone. Nobody really cares what’s going on in the background until the mess impacts them.

When my stomach rumbles yet again, the pigtailed pregnant woman gives me a conspiratorial look. Everyone else on the train might think it’s her, but she knows it’s me. She isn’t judging, though; her expression is friendly. Surprisingly kind and intimate in a maternal sort of way. I take in her pert nose, amused hazel eyes, and the beautiful coppery shade of her two neat, thick braids. I want to tell her I bet you’re gonna be a great mother—but who needs to hear that from a stranger? Besides, maybe she already is a mother. This might not be her first rodeo.

Another grumble from my midsection cues me to return my attention to myself. I smile weakly, averting my gaze as I take a slow sip of my mocha, attempting to temporarily silence my stomach’s demands. While I’ve always had a healthy appetite, lately it’s like I’m haunted by this constant craving. I can take the edge off sometimes, but I’m never really satisfied.

My granddaughter Eve, oy, let me tell you, she can really eat, my grandmother used to say with pride. But it wasn’t a problem when I was a kid. I was just a girl who liked food. Now, it’s like I can never get enough. I’ve been trying to tell myself it’s seasonal. The weather. Winter cold snap making everyone want to hibernate and fatten up like all those rotund city squirrels. But I think it’s something more than that.

Like, say, losing my father a year ago.

Or my looming fortieth birthday.

Or my little sister’s upcoming wedding.

Or the growing conviction that I’m going to die alone.

Or, most likely, all of the above.

Rather than sift through all the wreckage, it’s easiest to just blame my hungry malaise on December—and specifically, Christmas.

Holidays make excellent emotional scapegoats, and I’ve always had a powerful love/hate relationship with Christmas. I’m pretty sure that’s just part of growing up as a religious minority in America. The holiday to end all holidays is an omnipresent blur of red and green, a nonstop monthlong takeover of society as we know it, which magically manages to be both inescapable and exclusionary. It’s relentless. Exhausting.

But at the same time, dammit, the persistent cheer is intoxicating, and I want in on it.

That’s why I do things like set my vintage radio alarm to the twenty-four-hour-carols station that pops up every November for the “countdown to Christmas.” It’s an annual ritual I never miss, but also never mention to any of my friends—the literal definition of guilty pleasure, which might just be the most Jewish kind of enjoyment ever.

From Thanksgiving all the way until the New Year, I start every day with the sounds of crooning baritones, promises of holiday homecomings, and all those bells—silver, jingling, carol-of-the. I can’t help it. My whole life, I’ve loved all the glitzy aspects of the season. The sparkling lights adorning trees and outlining the houses and apartment buildings throughout Chicagoland always seemed so magical to the little Jewish girl with the only dark house on the block. And as an adult, God help me, I cannot get enough of seasonal mochas. (At the same time, I feel a need to assert my Hanukkah-celebrant status, resenting the default assumption that everyone celebrates Christmas. Because humans are complicated.)

One of the best and worst things about the holiday season is how much more you wind up chatting with other people. Wishing total strangers happy holidays, commenting on their overflowing shopping bags, chitchatting with people in line for the aforementioned addictive peppermint mochas. I’m not in the mood for it this year as much as in years past, but once in a while I’m glad to take advantage of the holiday-related conversational opportunities.

For instance, there’s a new guy in my apartment building. He moved in a few months ago. He has a British accent, thick dark brows, muscular arms, and a charming tendency to hold the door for everyone. I haven’t crushed this hard on someone since high school. We said hello a few times over the fall, but December has opened the door to much more lobby banter.

Hot Josh—which is what I call him when he’s not around, and am absolutely doomed to someday accidentally call him in person—has been getting a lot of boxes delivered to our lobby. Which, for better or worse, has given me multiple excuses to make stupid jokes. Most recently, a huge overseas package arrived; it had clearly cost a fortune to ship. Hot Josh made some comment about the overzealous shipper of said holiday package, rolling his eyes at the amount of postage plastered all over the box.

It’s better than if they forgot to put on any stamps at all, I said. Have you heard the joke about the letter someone tried to send without a stamp?

Uh, no? Hot Josh replied, raising an eyebrow.

You wouldn’t get it, I said, and snort-laughed.

He just blinked. Apparently, for some of us, all those cheery holiday conversational opportunities are more like sparkling seasonal landmines.

At the next train stop, only a few passengers exit, while dozens more shove their way in. The handful of departing passengers include the pigtailed pregnant woman. She rises awkwardly from her seat, giving me a hey-thanks-again farewell nod as she indicates I should sit there again.

I look around cautiously as I reclaim my seat, making sure no new pregnant, elderly, or otherwise-in-need folks are boarding. It’s only after I finish this courtesy check that I notice I’m now sitting directly across from a man in full Santa Claus gear.

He’s truly sporting the whole shebang: red crushed-velvet suit with wide black belt and matching buckle, epic white beard, and thigh-high black boots. His bowl-full-of-jelly belly is straining the buttons on the jacket, and I honestly can’t tell if it’s a pillow or a legit beer gut.

I’m not sure how to react. If Dad was here, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d high-five Santa, and they’d instantly be best friends. 

But I never know where to start, what to say. Like, should I smile at the guy? Refer to him as “Santa”? Maybe, like, salute him, or something?

I gotta at least take a picture and text it to Dad. He’d get such a kick out of this guy—

My hand automatically goes for my phone, pulling it swiftly from my pocket. But my amusement is cut off with a violent jerk when I touch the screen and nothing happens. That’s when I remember that my phone is off—and why I keep it off.

My rumbling stomach curdles. Even after a whole year, the habit of reaching for my phone to share something with my father hasn’t gone away. I’m not sure it ever will.

Shoving my phone back into my coat pocket, I ignore St. Nick and just stare out the filthy train windows instead. Even through this grayish pane streaked with God-knows-what horrific substances, the city is beautiful. I love the views from the train, even the inglorious graffiti and glimpses of small backyards. And now, every neighborhood in Chicago has its holiday decorations up. 

This Midwestern metropolis, with its glittering architecture, elegant lakefront, and collection of distinct neighborhoods sprawling away from the water, knows how to show off. Most people think downtown is prettiest. But if you ask me, it’s hard to beat my very own neighborhood, Lincoln Square.

In the center of the Square is Giddings Plaza. In summertime the plaza’s large stone fountain is the bubbling backdrop to all the concerts and street festivals in the brick-paved square. But in wintertime, the water feature is drained and becomes the planter for a massive Christmas tree. Surrounded by all the perky local shops, the plaza is cute as hell year-round. When you add tinsel and twinkle lights and a giant fir tree that looks straight out of a black-and-white Christmas movie, it’s almost unbearably charming.

We haven’t had a proper snowfall yet, so the natural seasonal scenery has been lacking a little. But even with the bare tree limbs and gray skies, the stubbornly sparkling holiday decor provides a whispered promise of magic ahead.

I really want to believe in that magic.

The light shifts as we rattle beneath looming buildings and trees, and I briefly catch my reflection in the dirty window. Dark curls crushed beneath my olive-green knit cap, round cheeks, dark eyes, no makeup except a smear of lip gloss I bought because it was called Holiday Cheer. The details are all familiar, but I barely recognize myself. I wonder if I’ll ever feel like the real-me again, or if grief has made me into someone else entirely.

Last month marked the one-year anniversary of losing my dad. A whole year, and it still doesn’t feel real. Most days, it seems like I’m in the wrong version of my life. Or like everything around me is just some strange movie set I wandered onto and can’t seem to escape. I keep waiting for things to feel normal again. For me to feel normal again.

Hasn’t happened yet.

Excerpted from I MADE IT OUT OF CLAY by Beth Kander. Copyright © 2024 by Beth Kander. Published by MIRA, an imprint of HTP/HarperCollins.

 
About the Author: 

Photo Credit:
Kyle BiceKAB Studios

Beth Kander is a novelist and playwright with tangled roots in the Midwest and Deep South. The granddaughter of immigrants, her writing explores how worlds old and new intertwine—or collide. Her work has been described as “riveting,” “emotional,” “expertly crafted,” and “habit-forming." Expect twists, turns, and secrets, with surprising heart and humor. Beth has too many degrees and drinks too much coffee. Her favorite characters are her dashing husband and their two lovely kids. www.bethkander.com

Social Links:
Author Website: https://bethkander.com/ 
Instagram: www.instagram.com/bethkander
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/4084609.Beth_Kander 
Facebook: www.facebook.com/bybethkander

Spotlight: Excerpt from Tall, Dark and December by Tracy Sumner

 

In a city where every scandal and secret counts, iron-willed inventor Weston Witaker’s world is turned upside down by Lady Penelope, leaving him determined to win her heart. Readers who love Kathleen Ayers, Lisa Kleypas, and Sarah MacLean will devour Tall, Dark and December by Tracy Sumner, a steamy, reverse age-gap, My Fair Lady retelling.

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USA Today bestselling author, Tracy Sumner, crafts her signature sizzling style into an emotional, witty, standalone romance. An American scoundrel falls for his etiquette teacher in this steamy Regency romp!

- Reverse age gap
- Hero falls first
- My Fair Lady retelling
- Brothers & bromance!
- STEAM

In the frosty heart of Regency London, American engineer Weston Whitaker has arrived with a singular purpose: to perfect his steam-powered inventions. But his reckless disregard for England’s stifling social codes earns him a notorious reputation as “Tall, Dark, and December”, putting his project—and his prospects—in jeopardy. Bound by blood to a powerful duke, West is reluctantly drawn into society’s gilded web, where every glance and rumor can make or break him.

Tasked with taming this brooding American is Lady Penelope, London’s sharpest etiquette tutor and a woman who embodies the very aristocracy West disdains. Yet, beneath her proper exterior, Penelope is as fierce and unconventional as he is, and West finds himself captivated by her bold mind and dangerous wit. As sparks fly between them, Penelope battles to remain detached, unwilling to fall for a man who could so easily unravel her carefully constructed life.

When West’s secrets threaten to shatter their budding love, he must decide to confront the family he never wanted or leave England—and the woman he’s falling for—forever. In a city where every scandal and secret counts, can this iron-willed inventor win the heart of the woman who’s turned his world upside down?
 

 
 
Excerpt
Copyright 2024, Tracy Sumner
Where a lady recalls what desire feels like.
He was a mess. A grand, gorgeous mess.
One she’d been hired to clean up.
Penelope stood in the entryway of the warehouse’s sprawling main room, the box she’d brought for their lessons filling her arms. She’d agreed to this location without initial consideration of the fact that none of the items she needed for instruction would be housed in a working space. Place settings, cutlery, and the like. Hence, her arrival a day early to ensure they were prepared to start tomorrow.
Plus, she’d been too bloody curious to stay away another minute.
Her breath slowed as she sighted her erstwhile pupil leaning over a partially disassembled engine, a wrench in his hand as he adjusted a part. He was dressed more carelessly than any man she’d seen since her downfall, thin cotton stained with sweat clinging wonderfully to the straining muscles of his arms and shoulders. His midnight hair disheveled, his trousers rumpled and being held on his lean form by braces that cut a sharp, incongruent crease down the center of his back. Light blazed from an assortment of lamps and fixtures, a brilliant burst raining over him.
It was quite the presentation.
Pulling her attention away before she was too taken by the scene, Penelope lifted her gaze to the detailed sketches and calculations tacked to the wall, and the books tumbled around his feet, pencils jammed in the open folds as if the reader had taken flight during the browsing. The collection spoke of intellect and industry, passion and progress, a life being led without compromise.
For the first time in years, Penelope Anstruther-Colbrook seized temptation simply because…
…she wanted to.
Leaning against the scarred doorjamb, the sounds and scents of Weston Whitaker’s world flowed through her. In Limehouse, of all places, a realm she’d never seen and certainly never been invited to, this time purely due to commerce. The acrid odor of heated oil mixing with a salty brine straight off the Thames danced across her nose, the thrum of spinning cylinders and the soft burst of steam presenting a strangely calming murmur. In the distance, shouts from the dock and the bang of goods being unloaded whistled through gaps in the warehouse’s planks.
Nothing was as it should be here, and she’d be lying if she said she wanted it to be.
She shifted the box in her arms with a shiver of expectation, the penny in her skirt pocket warm against her thigh. Her life had become incredibly staid by design while the man across from her was more vibrant than a post-squall sunset—bursts of color like those she spilled across repurposed canvases in an effort to save her purse and calm her mind.
The moment spoke of revelation, one she couldn’t define.
Stretching to reach a section of the engine, Mr. Whitaker’s untucked shirttail rode high, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband—a moment’s view, quickly lost. The leanness of his body wasn’t a surprise, nor was the sight of firm muscle at his hip. It was the contrast with Neville’s flaccid outline that had her sighing in regret.
And appreciation.
For a brief summer, she’d investigated the male form in all its glory. Shocking to some, perhaps, but she’d liked her research. Memories, new and old, swept past. She feared her spectacle lenses fogging from her rapid breaths if she didn’t calm herself.
Startled by a sound, Mr. Whitaker looked up as the wrench twisted in his hand. Muttering a curse, he let the tool slide free and brought his curled fist to his chest.
Then, she noticed the blood trailing down his wrist.
Penelope was across the room before either of them had time to utter a syllable. Placing her box atop a crate, she dug around until she came up with a napkin. Starched linen with her family’s initials embroidered in the corner, but it would do.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said, though he winced when he flexed his hand.
Rolling her eyes, she pointed to the barrel at his side. “Sit.”
Her firm tone prompted a flashing grin that only made him more attractive, she was vexed to note. Nonetheless, he complied, perching his bottom on the rusted iron rim, his hand cradled between his spread legs. “Do your worst, then, Penny, me gal.”
Sighing, she stepped gingerly over strips of leather, an errant nail, and various tools she had no name for. “Lady Penelope if you please.”
His penetrating gaze cut her way, taking her apart and putting her together again like one of his mechanisms as the seconds ticked away. “What if I don’t please? Has any Englishman in history ever been courageous enough to ask?”
 
About Tracy Sumner

USA Today Bestselling author Tracy Sumner’s storytelling career began when she picked up a historical romance on a college beach trip, and she fondly blames LaVyrle Spencer for her obsession with the genre. She’s a recipient of the National Reader’s Choice, HOLT Medallion, Golden Leaf, and Georgia Romance Writer's MAGGIE. When she's not writing sizzling love stories about feisty heroines and their temperamental-but-entirely-lovable heroes, Tracy enjoys reading, snowboarding, college football (Go Tigers!), yoga, and travel.
 
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Review: Christmas with the Lords by Hannah Langdon

Author: Hannah Langdon
Publisher: Blackstone Audio
Publication Date: September 2023

 URGENTLY a nanny for Christmas . Seeking an adventurous nanny to work for the aristocratic Lord family at their country estate. Must love naughty dogs, mischievous children and have a high tolerance for Christmas chaos. Room and board provided. Penny Windlesham is stunned when her long-term boyfriend suddenly dumps her, leaving her with a broken heart just in time for Christmas . At a loose end, she accepts a job as a short-term nanny to a family she’s never met. Climbing aboard a train bound for the Dorset countryside, a tear rolls down her cheek. 

Alone, working and amongst strangers… could her Christmas be any less magical? As she crunches up the family’s frost-covered drive, Penny’s spirits lift when she glimpses her home for the next an enormous manor house, its windows glowing with firelight and festooned with twinkling holly. And, as she settles into her role caring for the adorable Lord children, she finds herself surrounded by a quirky cast of characters, including loveably frazzled Spanish chef Pilar and the children’s grouchy uncle, Lando Lord. Despite Penny’s attempts to avoid him, the darkly handsome Lando seems to be everywhere – hanging around like Scrooge amidst the happy present-wrapping and gingerbread baking. Apparently he wasn’t always this way… is there some secret reason he’s so cranky at Christmas? 

When Lando is commissioned to carve a beautiful new Nativity scene for the local church, Penny blushingly agrees to be his model, and a sudden spark flickers between them. But it’s not long before the past comes knocking, and Penny discovers exactly why Lando left his old life behind… A heartwarming and feel-good holiday story full of Christmas magic! Fans of Beth Moran, Donna Ashcroft and Trisha Ashley will love Christmas with the Lords .

Christmas with the Lords was an over the top, quirky romance that really disappointed me.  I was hoping for a cute and cozy Christmas romance.  I'm not sure where the romance was in this book.  There was zero chemistry between Lando and Penny.  I'm not sure when they fell in love.  I mean they didn't kiss and Penny is thinking marriage after sitting for him twice for his sculpture. It was like a week or so after getting dumped by her boyfriend.  Don't get me started on the ridiculous scenario where they both exes show up and cause issues.  The rest of the family and characters were all "quirky' almost to exhaustion.  And you know they are unusual because everyone in the town will tell you they are. I would have been tired of working in the house.  I don't really recommend this one.  It probably should have been a DNF.

Review: Winning Her Duke by Allison B. Hanson

Author: Allison B. Hanson
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing (audiobook)
Publication Date: February 2024

When Gia Landon is tricked into a London season by her father, she is pleased to have found a friend who shares her love of horses in the Duke of Roxburghe. The surly Scot enjoys living in London and hates the country, while Gia despises everything about society.

Hale knows Gia has no intention of marrying. She is simply biding her time until her father gives up and allows her to return to the country. Which means there is no danger in spending his days in her company discussing their one true love…race horses.

But soon, their shared love of all things equine begins to grow, and a friendship they thought was safe tempts them into crossing the line into scandal.

In Winning Her Duke,  Gia never wanted a season. She just wants to take care of her horses and live in the country.  She hates London society.  Hale has no desire to marry either. Although he does enjoy the city and a good ball.  Their unexpected friendship and love of horses poses a perfect solution to keep the suitors at bay.   I thought this was  a really adorable romance.  I enjoyed watching Gia and Hale fall for each other. They were really cute as they fought their attraction. Their friendship first made it all the more sweet when they got to their HEA.  My only real complaint was the "miscommunication" toward the end.  It was unnecessary and frustrating.  This is the first in a series, so I will be continuing with the next book soon. 

Review: The Five Year Lie by Sarina Bowen

Author: Sarina Bowen
Publisher: HarperAudio
Publication date: May 2024

She thought it was love. Then he vanished.
On an ordinary Monday morning, Ariel Cafferty's phone buzzes with a disturbing text message. Something’s happened. I need to see you. Meet me under the candelabra tree ASAP. The words would be jarring from anyone, but the sender is the only man she ever loved. And it's been several years since she learned he died.

Seeing Drew’s name pop up is heart-stopping. Ariel’s gut says it can’t be real. But she goes to the tree anyway. She has to.

Nobody shows. But the text upends everything she thought she knew about the day he left her. The more questions she asks, the more sinister the answers get. Only two things are clear: everything she was told five years ago is wrong, and someone is still lying to her.

The truth has to be out there somewhere. To safeguard herself—and her son—she’ll have to find it before it finds her. And with it, the answer to what became of Drew.

The Five Year Lie was a pleasant surprise. In it, the father of Ariel's son disappeared 5 years before.  Right around the time of the death of her father occurred.  One day she gets a text from him to meet up.  This sets off a quest to figure out what really happened five years earlier.

I initially thought I had it all figured out as there is one part of the reveal that is pretty obvious. But there was a twist that I didn't see coming.  It ended up being something completely different than what I thought it would be.  I loved Ariel's character.  From flashbacks, you can really see growth she went through to get to where she was in the present day.  I liked that she didn't give up in trying to figure out what happened to Drew.  I won't spoil the book for you.  Instead I will definitely recommend it to you.

Spotlight: Excerpt from When Stars Fall by W. Million

 

When I got my first big break, I was thrilled to be co-starring with Wyatt Burgess and thought I could handle life with him. But, when his best friend overdoses outside a nightclub, Wyatt spirals deeper into his addictions. After ten years of heartache, I’m content with the life I created and the last thing I expected was to see Wyatt on TV, telling the world his biggest regret is losing me. Readers who love second-chance romances will consume When Stars Fall by Wendy Million, a forced proximity, celebrity romance.

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He's the most famous movie star in the world, and now he's on my doorstep begging for a second chance.
When I got my first big break, I was thrilled to be co-starring with the Wyatt Burgess–former childhood star, charismatic, sexy as hell–and heavily dependent on drugs and alcohol.
I thought I could handle life with him, and I did for a while. But after his best friend overdosed outside a nightclub, he spiraled deeper into his addictions. Desperate, I gave him an ultimatum: the lifestyle or me.
After ten years of heartache, I’ve carved out a life that makes me feel stable and content. The last thing I expect is Wyatt Burgess on my television screen, telling the whole world his biggest regret is losing me.
Now he’s standing in front of me, forcing me to choose between the comfortable life I’ve created and the passionate whirlwind that allowing him back into my life could bring.
But I wasn’t one hundred percent honest when I left, and I fear he’ll never forgive me. 

 
Excerpt
Copyright 2024, Wendy Million

Wyatt
Present Day
I’m sweating. Profusely. It’s disgusting. I tug at the collar of my freshly pressed shirt and loosen my tie. I’ll tighten it before I go on set.
Leaning forward on the couch, I grab my water from the coffee table. Bottles of alcohol line the bar to the right. A sign encourages everyone to help themselves. There is nothing worse than wanting a drink, being surrounded by alcohol, and not being able to have any. I need to be sober for this interview. Ellie will see it.
I grab some candy off the table and pop it into my mouth, chewing slowly. The greenroom is a weird shade of lime. Whenever I’m in a green waiting area, I’m always disappointed. We’re in a creative business—lime isn’t creative; it’s just hard on my eyes. Jackson Billows, the host of the late-night program, probably thinks the color is hilarious.
I wiggle my back along the too-stiff couch. Maybe I’ve been doing this whole scene too long. Few things in the entertainment business surprise me anymore. Of course, having this big a stage, a platform for my announcement, is helpful. Surprises may be few and far between for me personally, but I can still deliver a couple.
“You’re on in five, Mr. Burgess.” A dark-haired man pops his head into the room.
I nod. Say nothing. Check my phone again. The few people who understand my plan are reluctantly on board. A last-minute Break a leg text rolls in. I turn off my ringer, readjust my tie and collar. My suit jacket is stifling, but she used to like me suited and booted. Every advantage is necessary. I’m about to blow up her life.
For ten years, Ellie has been coordinating her projects and schedule to avoid me. We’ve developed an unspoken agreement to keep each other and Isaac, my best friend, out of the press. The weight of his death has remained ours to carry.
Jackson enters from the hidden side door. “You all right, buddy?” He perches on a chair across from me.
“Sweating like a pig.”
“It’s been ten years, man. This will be great television, don’t get me wrong, but Ellie is going to eat your nuts for breakfast tomorrow.”
“I picked you for a reason, Jack. Don’t let me down.” I drain the rest of my water and wish the liquid was something much stronger.
“We could have booked you both on the show. Left you here in the greenroom to sort out your issues in private.” Jackson stands.
“She’d have canceled. Whenever she’s gotten wind I’m in the area, her cavalry rides to the rescue. I even flew to Bermuda and not one person—not one,” I say, holding up a finger, “would tell me where she lived.”
“What makes you think she’s going to take any notice of you this time?” he asks.
“She’ll have no choice.” Certainty washes over me, and I point to my phone. “Finally got her address. I’m headed to the airport as soon as we’re done.”
“Ten years and you’re just going to show up on her doorstep? Do you need the public spectacle first?”
He has a point, but if I go without the spectacle, she’ll slam the door in my face. “I’m trying to make it impossible for her to say no.”
“I hope that doesn’t make it hard for her to say yes later.” Jack arches his eyebrows.
Truthfully, I haven’t thought that far in advance. All I’ve done is organize Operation Get Her to Talk to Me. The rest will fall into place. A long time ago, I was her kryptonite. God knows she’s always been mine.
The doors split as we walk toward the set. Jack heads to the stage and I stand in the wings, waiting to make my entrance.
By midnight tonight, she’ll realize I’m done with our unspoken truce.
I’m coming for you, Ellie.
Jackson gives his rambling introduction, then I strut onto the set. The crowd goes wild, and I drop into my seat. I adjust my jacket and wave to the audience as the screams die down.
Jackson’s right about one thing: Ellie will not take this well.
 
About Wendy Million

Wendy Million is an award-winning author whose contemporary romances about strong women and troubled men have captivated her loyal readers. She is the author of the contemporary second-chance romances, When Stars Fall and Miss Matched. Writing as W. Million, she is the author of the Bellerive Royals series, the Tucker Billionaires series, and the Little Falls series. When not writing, Wendy enjoys spending time in or around the water. She lives in Ontario, Canada with two beautiful daughters, two cute pooches, and one handsome husband (who is grateful she doesn’t need two of those).
 
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Spotlight: Excerpt from Bleeding Heart by Tricia T. LaRochelle

 

Danger lurks in the shadows as Sara and Scott's idyllic holiday takes a sinister turn. With a violent convict named Randy Meyers on the loose, every moment becomes a battle for survival. Will their love withstand the looming threat, or will it crumble under the weight of uncertainty? Readers who enjoy romantic suspense and strong heroines will devour Bleeding Heart by Tricia T. LaRochelle, the fourth installment of the Sara Browne series.

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Sara Williams yearns for a tranquil existence as she embraces her new life as a teacher and wife. Her ultimate desire is to cultivate a sense of security and simplicity alongside her husband, Scott.
But the escape of a notorious convict, Randy Meyers, disrupts Sara's and Scott’s newfound stability, unleashing a wave of fear and uncertainty.

While danger looms, Sara is offered an unforeseen opportunity that threatens her future with Scott. Amidst the chaos of Christmastime, Sara and Scott's love is put to the ultimate test. With each twist and turn, they must decide: will they let fear dictate their destiny, or will they embrace the unknown with open arms?

The heart that beats the hardest is the one that refuses to bleed out hope. Dive into Sara’s world and witness the true mettle of the Christmas spirit.

 
Excerpt
Copyright 2024, Tricia T. LaRochelle
 
I awoke to the light of the moon filtering in through the plantation blinds, our room quiet as a mouse. The measure of Scott’s breathing told me he was out cold. I turned over to face my clock that flashed 2:33 a.m. with its neon-blue digits. Why was I awake? A dry mouth answered me. Thirst. I did eat a lot of pizza, and I did have two cosmos. I sat up, trying to rouse my mind enough to head to the bathroom to get some water.
All at once, a noise came out of nowhere. What was that?
I froze. Was it the wind hitting the house? The forecast had called for high winds, the enemy of outdoor Christmas decorations. Plus, this house was new, and I needed to get acquainted with its creaks and gentle moans. A nearby oak cast its shadowy branches across my window, and I found myself imagining it waving hello.
I lowered my feet to the floor and stood, my body suddenly cold. After making love, I often slept naked next to Scott, but in the winter, my shoulders had a way of chilling the rest of my body. Realizing this, I shuffled over to my closet and grabbed a nightshirt and pants made of brushed cotton.
Another sound came from … upstairs? I gazed at the ceiling. Was it a scrape or …? I struggled to process.
And then bang.
My heart practically leaped out of my chest.
Okay, that wasn’t the wind. And that wasn’t a tree, either, unless one was coming through our second floor right now. I crept over to Scott and shook his shoulders. “Scott, I heard a noise upstairs.” Terror engulfed my senses, making it difficult to breathe.
All I could think was is it the escaped convict, Randy?
 
 
 
About Tricia T. LaRochelle

Since she was a little girl, award-winning author Tricia T. LaRochelle has been obsessed with tragic love stories. No beach reads for her. Bring on the grit with a double side of turmoil. She likes to feel the character’s anguish as they fight to overcome obstacles to be together. Growing up in central Vermont, she has seen her share of tragedy but remains a hopeful romantic. She now lives in central Virginia, where she continues to foster the possibilities of how love can conquer all.

Flickering Heart, part of her Sara Browne series, won a Gold Medal in the 2023 Readers’ Favorite Contest for New Adult and was a first-place winner in the 2022 Incipere Awards for romance. Revive received an Honorable Mention in the 2022 Incipere Awards for romance in the same series. Her stand-alone contemporary, Sun in My Heart, won second place in the 2024 Bookfest Awards for Romance-Contemporary Romance-New Adult and a Bronze Medal in the 2024 Readers’ Favorite Contest for New Adult Fiction. Her next installment in the Sara Browne Series, Bleeding Heart – A Holiday Romance launches December, 3^rd 2024.

Subscribe to her newsletter at tricialarochelle.com and receive updates and opportunities to win prizes or follow her on X, Threads, Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, or Pinterest.
 
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Blog Tour: Guest Post form George Almond, Author of Even Higher Then Everest

Author: George Almond
Publisher: Paragon Publishing
Publication Date: October 26, 2018
Pages: 274
Genre: Historical Fiction/Adventure Fiction/Biographical Fiction
  
EVEN HIGHER THAN EVEREST is a vastly entertaining, fact-based, yet dramatized story of a London cockney heiress who, in the 1930s, sent a small fleet of double winger biplanes on a daring and remarkably dangerous mission to fly over Mt. Everest and film the world’s highest and most famous mountain peak.
 
Author George Almond met the Himalayan heroes (Sherpa Tenzing and Lord Hunt), who explained how the first aerial photographs, taken in 1933, assisted their heroic ascent of Everest in 1953. Captivated by this dazzling and little known tale, the book - Even Higher than Everest - is a dramatized recount of the tenacity of the heiress Lucy Houston and her team of prestigious aviators whose five aircraft flew to the world's highest mountains. 

A short 1930s film from footage of Houston’s flight, titled Wings Over Everest, won an Oscar in 1936 from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wings_Over_Everest 
 
Commenting on his work, author George Almond says: “Inspired by true events of that first flight over Everest, the novel Even Higher Than Everest follows skilled personnel in finance, diplomacy, media, filming, engineering and aviation, all aiming for a shared objective. How these characters blended successfully, overcoming constant setbacks and challenges, was in itself a major accomplishment. I have followed the truth, tweaking just a few elements, in recounting the event.”

The Inspiration Behind Even Higher Than Everest

By George Almond

Being a serial adventurer myself, I was immediately drawn to the story when Lord Hunt and Norgay Tenzing (the first man to successfully climb Everest) revealed how they had examined aerial photos taken by the pilots in 1933 to identify the best routes to the top.  Due diligence came no higher! 
After spending time on square-rigged ships, I was impressed that the heroine of my story, Lucy Houston, had bought the beautiful steam yacht Liberty which had been built for Joseph Pulitzer, one of Americas's enduring and prominent leaders. 
My lawyer in Century City advised me write the story and then Oscar winner screenwriter Julian Fellowes (Downton Abbey) added valuable impetus because his relative had led the 1933 flight expedition.
Once I started on my archive hunt, there was no stopping me.  I went to all the original locations: Houses of Parliament, Westland aircraft factory, RAF Museum, Kinrara (Lucy Houston's priceless estate in Scotland), the Maharaja of Jodhpur's hunting lodge, the Terai jungle and then the foothills of Everest. In the photographic archive of The Times in London, I found a box of precious photographs which described the rest of the story. 
From a junkyard for retired RAF aircraft, we found the wreck of the only surviving biplane which is helping us finalise manufacture of a new Everest-enabled biplane (Lucy2). For this associated venture, I am supported by highly experienced professional British and American pilots who agree, like many of the world's 500,000 pilots, that touring the Himalayan peaks in a single engine open double winger riding invisible currents as wild as Hawaiian surf is no place for scaredy-cats!
Along the fascinating turns on my journey, many significant film professionals have urged me to continue. Sadly I'm no natural author. I did not study English when I was at Oxford University so the finer points of literature may be missing in my text, but hopefully the story will give great credence to those who can admire the 35 men under Lucy Houston's patronage who created a unique moment in Everest's history.
I turned to Amazon for publishing my novel and am pleased that I did so.

Watch the Trailer:

 

About the Author
 

George Almond, the grandson of a Wyoming horse rancher, enjoys revisiting great adventures. Born in London and educated in France and Oxford University he has ridden horseback 1500 miles across Europe, worked for Calgary Stampede's Champion Chuck Wagon driver,  sailed two oceans with the world's most experienced square-rig sea captain, taken the Flying Scotsman steam train from Boston to Houston where he was hired by Neiman Marcus. These days Almond makes his home in Europe, working on other books, including one about Jack Rackham and his two lady pirates who formerly sailed the Caribbean, preying upon merchant vessels.