Thursday, June 26, 2014

“Please, your sisters-in-law are not like normal ‘girls;’ it’s like a beauty pageant slash couture fashion show,” Shoshana said as she sprung up from bed.

She sped walked into the bathroom and began brushing her teeth with fervor.

“I guess you’d better get your crown ready,” Drew said and winked at her.

“I don’t even think I have enough time to shower!” Shoshana protested between mouthfuls of toothpaste foam.

“Why do you have to shower?”

Shoshana spit into the sink. “Are you serious?” She marched out of the bathroom and looked at him incredulously.

“Yeah, your hair looks fine, you don’t seem dirty,” Drew said with a shrug.

“Drew! Your sisters-in-law have perfect hair.”

“Stop, you’re making yourself crazy.” Drew walked into the bathroom to shave.

“Forget it, there’s no time to shower,” Shoshana yelled after him.

“Sounds good,” Drew said barely listening.

Shoshana rummaged through her closet. She threw on a black cotton dress and black flip-flops. She figured black was a chic-enough color and it would hide any sweat marks. It was August in Washington, D.C., which meant, it was hot.

“I’ll wear black and then I’ll fit in—”

“Why do they bother you so much?” Drew asked as Shoshana emerged from the closet.

Shoshana stopped and looked at him. “It’s not that they bother me.”

“What is it then?”

“I can’t really describe it.”

“They’re nice, they mean well, I really don’t get it,” Drew said as he buttoned his shirt.

“You wouldn’t get it, you’re a guy. They’re gorgeous and they’re well-dressed, always. And by the way—I’ve never seen them without makeup. They’re not human.”

“Sometimes you act like you’re not human,” Drew said, shaking his head and laughing. “Try to relax, everything will be fine.”

“Thanks for those uplifting words,” Shoshana said sarcastically as she started to apply mascara.

Drew grabbed his keys off the entrance hall table. She knew that it was his signal that the conversation was over.

He came back into the room and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “They’re only in town because of the engagement party, you usually get to avoid them.”

“Zoey still lives nearby . . .”

“Well, then you usually get to avoid two of the three.” Drew headed toward the door; Shoshana followed him.

“I like them; I just don’t feel like myself around them. I feel quiet and awkward.”

“Maybe that’s not because of them, maybe that’s a larger issue you have to tackle within yourself.”

She shook her head and smiled, it was such a classic Drew comment. ‘Maybe you’re projecting,’ ‘Maybe the larger issue is . . .’

“Let’s talk about it later.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead and walked out the door.

She knew he wouldn’t bring it up later, but she was okay with that. One of things she loved about Drew was his ability to move on. He didn’t harp on issues or create drama. He was calm and sensible.

Shoshana waited for the door to close behind him.

“Ugh.” She walked back into the bedroom and stared into the full-length mirror that hung on the back of her closet door. “The Walsh girls.”

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Sneak peek of Weightless by Michele Gorman

Chapter 1

‘Ow.’ My beer bottle clinked against my teeth as I felt a hand gently grasp my shoulder from behind.

‘Oh my god, Christy, is that you? How great to see you!’

‘I’m not-’… Christy, I was about to say. But then I turned and saw whose hand it was. ‘Hi.’

‘Ten years, can you believe it?’ asked Jack as his smile threw me back to our last year in school. ‘You look… different but I’d still recognize you anywhere. Did you come from France or are you based here now? Wait, we both need another drink and then we can have a proper catch-up.’ He pointed to my bottle. ‘Another beer? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?’

He loped off to the bar where our former classmates jockeyed for the overworked barman’s attention. And I admit it, dear Reader. I ogled him. I took in his broad shoulders beneath the fitted black jacket, his long jeans-clad legs and wavy blonde mop of hair.

Jack Winslow, my unrequited love, had actually just spoken to me. He was buying my beer! … All right, so he thought he was buying Christy’s beer, but still, beggars shall not be choosy about free drinks.

When the reunion invitation arrived with the school’s annual newsletter I chucked it into the bin. Those newsletters arrived every year in December, as welcome as a urinary tract infection. They’d wheedled my mailing address from my Dad and I didn’t have the guts to ring them to opt out for fear that they’d extort me for a donation for the playing fields or something. I’d been miserable on those fields. I hated every rain-soaked blade of grass that slipped me up and each ankle-twisting rut.

Jack returned with our drinks. He set my empty bottle on a nearby table for me. ‘Cheers. To old times,’ he said.

‘Cheers. Jack Winslow, I can hardly believe it’s you. Here’s to new times, eh?’

His grin faltered, then widened. Great work, Annabel. Two minutes into the conversation is just the right time to suggest a future together.

‘Believe it,’ he said. ‘So tell me what you’ve been doing for the last decade. Are you living in London now?’

I nodded. ‘I live in Notting Hill. Well, according to the real estate agents anyway. My closest Tube is Shepherd’s Bush though. Where are you living?’

‘Well as long as we’re speaking in real estate agent, then I’m in South Hampstead. If we’re being honest then I’m off Finchley Road.’ He stared at me. There were tiny lines around his grey eyes and his lashes were darker than I remembered. ‘I’m really happy you’re here.’

I smiled, surprised that he even knew who I was. Then I remembered that he didn’t. To him I was Christy. Of course he’d be happy to see her. Christy and Jack were our school’s answer to Brangelina, though I don’t think they actually went out together. They just swanned around the school in their own golden glow, the central figures in our teenage romantic fantasies.

Jack and I stood at the edge of the room together watching the crowd. Five minutes ago I was just Annabel Markham, aka AnnaBall, Annabell-end, all-round bully fodder and soft target. Suddenly I was promoted to head of the class.

What a difference short-sightedness makes.

‘Do you wear glasses?’ I asked before taking a swig of my beer.

His brow furrowed as he hesitated. ‘Ah, well, no. Why?’

‘Oh, well, I guess I remembered you with specs, that’s all. I wasn’t implying that you need them.’ Please shut up, Annabel.

‘Oh, you mean reading glasses. Yes, I did sometimes, for my astigmatism. But that’s been corrected now.’

He kept staring at me like he had more to say. Surely he’d figured out that I wasn’t Christy. Aside from being among the tallest girls in our year, we looked nothing alike. My hair had been much darker, for one thing. And my waistline had been much bigger for another.

But he really did seem to think I was Christy. Which wasn’t at all how I imagined my night would go when I’d first walked in.

I nearly didn’t turn up at all. Who willingly goes back into the bear pit once they’re freed? Someone who’s flippin’ out of her mind, that’s who.

My heart started rattling in my chest before I’d even set foot through the Richmond pub’s door. Upstairs, a table was set up beside the function room’s entrance. Two women waited to label the alumni but I didn’t recognize them and it was easy enough to sidestep their markers and Scotch Tape. I was well-practiced in the art of creeping about.

I should never have let Kate convince me to come. Of course all the feelings I’d packed away over the years wouldn’t stay neatly stowed. They’d wait till I was surrounded by my classmates to spring their locks.

To my relief, at least there was no break in conversation when I stepped in to the room. A few faces turned curiously but, recognizing neither friend nor foe, quickly turned away again. After twenty minutes I was still alone on the fringes of the party. I may as well have been sixteen again.

Actually, that’s not quite true, because I was rarely left alone then. Given the alternative, this was a bit better.

So Jack’s chattiness came as quite the surprise. He’d said about ten words to me during the whole of secondary school.

‘Do you see any of the old crowd yet?’ he asked, scanning the room.

My skin suddenly crawled with dread. What if Christy herself was somewhere in the room? Or her friends? They’d know in a second that I was an imposter. Then they’d single me out in front of the whole room and it’d be eleventh grade all over again. ‘No, no, I don’t see anyone.’ I started edging toward the door.

‘Me neither. But I might not recognize some of them. People can change a lot in ten years.’ He glanced again at the crowd. ‘Isn’t it odd? When you’re in school you can’t wait to get away from everyone and when you’ve left you’re excited to see them again.’

Speak for yourself. ‘Surely you didn’t hate school though. What’s there to hate when everyone loves you and you’re the teacher’s pet?’

He laughed before catching himself. ‘You’re exaggerating. I was never the teacher’s pet.’

‘But everyone did love you, so there’s no use denying it.’

‘What about you? The school went into mourning when you moved to France. Seriously, they flew the flags at half-mast. Bereavement counsellors were called in.’

I could think of at least one girl who wasn’t in mourning when Christy moved away. ‘No black arm bands?’

‘They changed our uniforms. Head to toe widow’s weeds for the girls and black suits for the boys.’

‘Well that was a long time ago,’ I said. ‘They probably renamed a building or something and went back to the usual uniforms eventually.’

He touched his beer to mine. ‘Immortalized in concrete. That’s my dream. Hey, what do you say we get out of here? No one else is here that we know anyway.’

‘Definitely! Let’s go.’ Before Christy sodding Blake turned up.

I’d tell him later about the confusion.

Chapter 2

To my relief, we left Richmond completely. The last thing I needed was for poor Jack to see Christy sodding Blake and think he was having a doppelganger moment on the sidewalk. Though I still couldn’t believe we actually looked alike.

The Christy I knew had cold blue eyes. Cold-as-a-shark, dead-soul blue eyes. This detail was burned into my memory because she never looked away when she tormented me. That girl had not one ounce of shame in her.

My eyes were green. Dad said they were beautiful, like cat’s eyes, but he had a parental duty of kindness.

People can change a lot in ten years and small details get forgotten or misremembered. So Jack didn’t seem to notice the color change as we chatted all the way into Soho. I was surprised when he pointed to his office on Soho Square. I’d always pegged him as the City type.

‘You really work for Fox?’ I said as we found a tiny corner table in the crowded pub nearby. ‘Oiling the great wheels of Hollywood? Do you get to walk down the red carpet and get papped falling out of nightclubs with your knickers showing?’

He looked uncomfortable as he sipped his winter ale. ‘I’m not an actor, or Paris Hilton, despite the tiny dog I like to carry around in my gym bag.’ He saw my face. ‘Joking,’ he said as I laughed. ‘I don’t go to the gym.’

‘You don’t really have a-’

‘Dog? No. And I’m just a lowly marketer. I’m the cog inside the cog inside the cog inside the great wheels of Hollywood.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I love it! What’s not to love about getting to see new releases before everyone else?’

‘Are you the one who hires the cheesy voiceover man? One man, one banana, one unholy love story,’ I intoned in my best radio announcer voice.

‘I wish I was, but they’re cheesed up before I get my hands on them. We’re the ones who create the marketing for Europe. It’s not glamorous but I work with a lot of nice people. What about you? Did you stay in France after school?’

Uh oh. There was really no way to answer his question without fibbing. A guilty pang made my stomach lurch. Was this where I had to tell Jack the truth, and watch that friendly, open smile fade as he realized we didn’t really have a history together? I knew what would happen then. The easy banter we’d shared all evening would dry up. It wouldn’t matter that it had nothing to do with who we’d been ten years before. Then he’d quickly finish his ale and make some excuse to leave.

I didn’t want that to happen. Not when we were having so much fun.

I could, however, tell him the truth about me. At least then it was just one omission rather than a series of lies that he’d hate me for.

‘I went to university here. In Leeds. I’ve been in England all along. How about you?’

He hesitated. Maybe when he said “school”, he meant university. Christy probably kept in touch after she moved, wrote him long letters that were definitely not postmarked Leeds. I steeled myself for his next response.

‘I took a year out and then went to Edinburgh,’ he said. ‘What a great city. Have you been?’

Relief flooded through me. Then I remembered that it was only a momentary stay of execution. ‘I’ve been up for the Fringe a few times,’ I said. ‘It is a great city. Did you travel the world on your year off, just you and your backpack and your little dog?’

‘Something like that, minus the dog and the backpack. What are you doing now?’

I told him about my dietetics practice. Like Jack, I loved my work. Unlike him, my job was about as far from glamorous as you could get without cleaning motorway lavatories for a living. ‘I’m really glad we ran into each other,’ I said as we sipped our drinks. My tension was easing away with distance from our old classmates. I was having a tremendous time, the kind of time I’d dreamed of all through school. There was no harm in carrying on the charade for a bit longer, just until I found a natural way to introduce the fact that I was another person altogether. No big deal.

‘I nearly didn’t go to the reunion,’ I said. ‘I didn’t-’

‘How could you even think about not going? You were the most popular girl in school!’

I clamped my mouth shut on my next words. I was about to tell him about not wanting to see the girls who’d bullied me. Girls like Christy. Must remember you are Christy. Obviously I’d make an excellent secret agent. Lips as secure as Fort Knox, that’s me.

‘It’s fate,’ he continued. ‘I mean really, what are the chances?’ He was staring into my eyes with a look that I’d begun to recognize in the past few years, since losing seventy pounds and gaining a social life. It wasn’t fate on Jack’s mind.

‘Well, it was a gathering of former classmates,’ I said, not daring to believe what I was seeing. ‘It would have been more fateful if we’d run into each other randomly in London.’

I hadn’t just had a crush on Jack in school. I truly thought I could love him one day, if only he knew I was alive. But I was about three miles below his radar, which was ironic since in those days I was probably visible from space. So I gathered bits of him wherever I could. His every utterance, and the cloying, spicy scent of his AXE Fusion, were committed to memory. I went to all his home football matches, even when it rained, even when I was almost the only one standing there, sodden at the edge of the hated playing field.

‘Well, fate or not, this is fantastic,’ he said.

He was doing it again. Looking at me like I was the last handful of Doritos in the bag. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

‘Could I see you again, do you think?’

Again I nodded. I wondered how he felt about muteness in a date. Wait a minute. Was he asking me on a date?! ‘I’d love that.’

Gently he leaned forward and put his warm lips to mine. It was a deal with the Devil, sealed with a kiss. By the time we traded cell numbers and said good night, I was floating about six inches above the London sidewalk.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Rules for manuscript giveaway eligibility

From the desk of Kelly Rizzetta...

To be eligible for the giveaway, the author and her manuscript have to meet the following criteria:

The manuscript has to be the original work of the author -- she's got to be the only one with creative or legal rights to the work!
The author can't have already published the manuscript in any form -- either in print or online -- and she can't be under contract to do so yet.
The manuscript can't be more than 100,000 words long.
The author has to get the manuscript to me by the end of the year. That way, if the contestant hasn't started her book yet, she could conceivably still put her name in for the giveaway.
The manuscript could reasonably be categorized as “chick lit.” If somebody gives me Bridget Jones's Diary set on, like, a spaceship in the year 2165, I'm not going to split hairs -- Mr. Darcy is still Mr. Darcy at zero gravity! But if you're entering a contest on Chick Lit Central/Book Mama that's sponsored by the author of The Chick Lit Cookbook, you've gotta play the game a little, you know? So, like, War and Peace is out. (Watch, I'll go down in history as "the editor who passed on the next War and Peace.")

I will present a contract to the winning authors and I think you'll find it's a pretty standard document that just spells out the basics of our temporary working relationship and codifies the parameters I listed above.

In case you don't find legaleze as titillating as I do, here's the Reader's Digest version of the contract:

As part of the giveaway prize, the author is essentially hiring me as a consultant -- on a limited independent contractor basis -- to review, appraise and provide feedback on her manuscript. (In other words, I'm not her employee or otherwise engaged in a business relationship with her.)
The author has until the end of 2014 (11:59 p.m. on Dec. 31, 2014 to be exact!) to send me her manuscript or she forfeits the giveaway prize. (In other words, she can't come to me 10 years from now and be like, "Hey, I won this contest a while back, and I was wondering if you could take a look at this ...")
Once the author sends me her manuscript, I have 45 days to read it and provide feedback, which will consist of a marked-up copy of the manuscript plus a one-page report summarizing my observations and suggestions.
I promise to be really, really good about not leaking or in any way disseminating the manuscript; that stuff and any other materials the author sends me are solely her possessions, and my job is just to review and discuss them with her.
No money is changing hands here; I'm not entitled to any compensation for reviewing the manuscript, and if I somehow incur costs for myself in doing so, that's my problem.
The author can give up the manuscript review (or cancel it, if it's already under way) at any time, provided she shoots me an email.
After the manuscript review is complete, the author and I are in no way obligated to one another. (In other words, she can't sue me if she doesn't like my feedback, or if she starts shopping the book around to publishers and gets turned down. Likewise, I can't come knocking if I see her book on the New York Times Bestseller List complaining that she owes me royalties because the manuscript I once edited is now worth a lot of money.)
In that vein, the manuscript and all related materials the author might send me during the review process are her property and hers alone -- not mine!
If I get hit by a bus, no manuscript review for you!

Monday, May 27, 2013

Our little library 2013

These are books that we previously featured on our Bookshelf page.

Amy & Zach by Sarah Louise Smith

The Typewriter Girl by Alison Atlee

Alberta Clipper by Sheena Lambert

The Power Trip by Jackie Collins

The Class Ceiling by Kerry Fisher

Second Chance by Carla Caruso

The Comfort of Lies by Randy Susan Meyers

The Kashmir Shawl by Rosie Thomas

Beyond Escape by Deborah K. Jensen

The Wedding Day by Joanne Clancy

Love in Translation by Sara Palacios

Diary of a Single Mormon Female by Aleesa Sutton

A Day at the Office by Matt Dunn

The Art Forger by B.A. Shapiro

There Once Lived a Girl Who Seduced Her Sister's Husband, and He Hanged Himself: Love Stories by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya

Playing on Cotton Clouds by Michela O'Brien

How I Met the Man of My Dreams: a Guide to MANifesting Yours by Debbianne DeRose

Nothing Ventured by Jane Oldaker

The Pretty One by Lucinda Rosenfeld

Weighting for Mr. Right by Patricia W. Fischer

The Sunshine When She's Gone by Thea Goodman

An Inquiry Into Love and Death by Simone St. James

My Life on Craigslist by Alexandra Ares

The Burning Air by Erin Kelly

The Affair by Colette Freedman

Keeper of the Scale by Debbie Cohen

How Do I Love Me? Let Me Count the Ways by Daylle Deanna Schwartz

The Death of Bees by Lisa O'Donnell

Pink Wellies and Flat Caps by Lynda Renham

Afterglow by Ute Carbone

The Next Best Thing by Kristan Higgins

Rubber Band Girl by Jennifer Nielson

Gone South by Meg Moseley

Eat Your Heart Out by Giulia Simolo

The Buggy List by Courtney R. Gager

The Karmic Connection by Libby Mercer

The Secret of Ella and Micha by Jessica Sorensen

Tainted Love by Eva Marquez

Staged by Ruby Preston

About Last Night by Adele Parks

The Mermaid of Brooklyn by Amy Shearn

While We Were Watching Downton Abbey by Wendy Wax

Coffee Shop Therapist: Sound Advice for Life’s Spills by Kizzy K. Johnson

Yours Affectionately, Jane Austen by Sally Smith O’Rourke

Where’s the Groom? by Sophie Meyer

The Witch of Little Italy by Suzanne Palmieri

Secrets from the Past by Barbara Taylor Bradford

The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna Van Praag

Cooking Up a Storm by Sue Welfare

Double Click by Lisa Becker

The Movement of Stars by Amy Brill

Blind Dating by Kerry Taylor

Laws of Migration by J.Suzanne Frank

Saving Saffron Sweeting by Pauline Wiles

Stardust Summer by Lauren Clark

The Pink Hotel by Anna Stothard

A Knight on Horseback by Ellen L. Ekstrom

The Apple Orchard by Susan Wiggs

Pastors' Wives by Lisa Takeuchi Cullen

Down and Out in Beverly Heels by Kathryn Leigh Scott

Love Slave by Jennifer Spiegel

A Mom's Life: Warm Fuzzies, Food & Fun by Karen Lenfestey

Feeling My Way by Amanda Hirsch

Mishegas of Motherhood, Raising Children To Leave The Nest...As Long As They Come Home For Dinner by Ellie Grossman Cohen

What My Mother Gave Me edited by Elizabeth Benedict

The Lost Husband by Katherine Center

The Reason is You by Sharla Lovelace

The Face of the Earth by Deborah Raney

Vanity by Lucy Lord (Sequel to Revelry)

Carry on Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed by Glennon Doyle Melton

Identity by Shawna Seed

The Laws of Gravity by Liz Rosenberg

Domestic Affairs by Bridget Siegel

City of Women by David Gillham

Sweet Cravings by Eva Lefoy

Work Women Want by Jennifer Forest

Fifty Shades of Schwarz by Ed Harris

Painted Hands by Jennifer Zobair

Reading Upside Down by Jo Platt

Beautiful Stranger by Christina Lauren

The Weekend Makeover by Jill Martin and Dana Ravich

The Bad Girls Club by Kathryn O’Halloran

Missing in Machu Picchu by Cecilia Velástegui

The Buddha Field by Giselle Koy

Naked Paddock by M.K. Ducote

The Disrespectful Interviewer by Lauren Baratz-Logsted

A Summer of Love by Michela O’Brien

Singleton by Luke Mallory

Stupid By Choice by Leighton Summers

Wicked Ambition by Victoria Fox

Siding with Plato by Michelle Manning

Lessons from a Kindred Sister by Neeta Nahta

Only You by Lorna Peel

On Grace by Susie Orman Schnall

Rebound by Nikki Mathis Thompson

Sinfully Summer by Aimée Duffy

Call off the Search by Anna and Andrew Wallas

Tripped Up Love by Julie Farley

Chasing Heart by M. Lingane

Looking For La La by Ellie Campbell

The Nine Fold Heaven by Mingmei Yip

Not Forever Friendships by Diana Konwin

Suite Dubai by Callista Fox

The Complete eDating Advice by Maura Stone

Oh Great, Now I Can See Dead People by Deborah Durbin

Finding Bliss by Dina Silver

The Butterfly Storm by Kate Frost

Emma vs. The Tech Guy by Lia Fairchild

Being Anti-Social by Leigh Cunningham

Country Loving by Cathy Woodman

Three Months in Florence by Mary Carter

Antidote to Infidelity by Karla Hall

Good Intentions by Kathryn R. Biel

Astor Place Vintage by Stephanie Lehmann

Virtue by Allison Bassen

Guest List by Jay Fingers

Zen and Sex by Dermot Davis

Izzy’s Cold Feet by Sarah Louise Smith

Vacationista by Tara Simone

The Back-Up List by Miriam Brady and Amber Best

This Could Have Been Our Song by Danielle-Claude Ngontang Mba

When Girlfriends Chase Dreams by Savannah Page

Neverending Beginnings by Mary Chris Escobar

What Would Kate Do? The Diary of a Walking Disaster by Fiona O'Malley

Pot Love by Sylvia Ashby

Love is a Thief by Claire Garber

Constance by Rosie Thomas

Desperately Seeking Heaven by Jill Steeples

Unburying Hope by Mary Wallace

Twenty-Five by Rachel Hamm

Is this all there is? by Patricia Mann

I Work Better with an Audience by Jennifer Inglis

Thirty Two Going on Spinster by Becky Monson

Fifty Ways to Leave Your Husband by KC Wilder

Deliberate Motherhood by Power of Moms

Desperation Lingers by Anthony Paull

Set Me Free by Jennifer Collin

Glittering Fortunes by Victoria Fox

You in Your Green Shirt by Barbara Monier

Two Roads by Kirby Roy III

Real by Katy Evans

Moonpennies by Alanna Rosette

The Perils of Long Hair on a Windy Day by Jamie Secor

Leaving Green Island by Em Barrett

A Slight Change of Plan by Dee Ernst

Miss Manners by Iman Sid

Tear Stained Beaches by Courtney Giardina

For the Love of Cupcakes by Anita Kushwaha

Lanty and Cookies by Tiziana Iaccarino

Hush Little Baby by Suzanne Redfearn

I Was in Love with a Short Man Once by Kimberly J. Dalferes

Facebook Jeanie by Addison Westlake

Cat House by MK Sandoval

When Good Boobs Turn Bad: A Mammoir by Jill Foer Hirsch

Forever Fredless by Suzy Turner

The Drake Equation by Heather Walsh

Is the Grass Really Greener? by C. Michelle Ramsey

Merry Chick Lit by various authors

A Widow Redefined by Kim Cano

The Suite Life by Suzanne Corso

Bad Girls by Deborah Doucette

Everybody’s Got a Story by Heather Wardell

The Devil Wears Scrubs by Freida McFadden

Incompatible Twins by Martina Munzittu

Living in Dog Years by E. Bell

Save Us a Seat by Fletcher McHale

The Life List by Chrissy Anderson

Four Sisters in Paris by Marty Almquist

The Long Dance Home by Julie Mayerson Brown

Woman on Top by Deborah Schwartz

Dangled Carat by Hilary Grossman

The Cursed Existence of Jessalyn Bell by Katie Johnson

Left by Tamar Ossowski

How to Be Alone by Tanya Davis and Andrea Dorfman

Suburban Underbelly by Michele Theron

Party Girl at Heart by Karen Elaine Campbell

Naked by Betsy Franco

Spirits of Christmas: A Rock’n’Roll Christmas Carol by Nicky Wells

What Endures by Katie Lee

Six of One by Jo Spears

The Secret and the Flame by J. Hopfinger

Doubting Abbey by Samantha Tonge

Love and Limoncello by Alexandra Sage

Shy Town Girls: Ivy by Katie Leimkuehler

Because of You by Kathryn Starke

Melting Ms. Frost by Kat Black

Christmas Yves by Nicola May

The Golden Apple by Faerl Marie

The 52 Weeks by Karen Amster-Young and Pam Godwin

Wait for It by Mary E. Thompson

Christmas at the Crescent by Veronica Henry

A Cinderella Christmas by Holly Kingston

One Sweet Christmas by Darlene Fredette

The Sister Season by Jennifer Scott

The Woman’s Secret by Alexandra Joy

Love on a Budget by Norma L. Jarrett