As we head into the end of the year, I want to pause and thank you for being here. This space continues to grow and evolve, and your support, curiosity, and kindness are what make it all worthwhile. Whether you’ve been with me for years or you’ve just found your way here, I’m truly grateful for you.
For those in the US, I hope your Thanksgiving is filled with good food, good company, and a moment (or two) of peace. For everyone else around the world, I hope this season brings you comfort, connection, and a few bright spots to carry you forward.
“Why fit in when you were made to stand out?”Sox is a microbe. One day, he trips and is catapulted into a human body. He bumps into Nova, or rather, Nova crashes into him! Nova says strange things, making Sox feel confused. Soon, the mysterious Bammies start chasing them. It all sends Sox into a sizzle!Join Sox in an adventure with crashes, chases, sizzles and giggles along the way.
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This is the tale of Bluebeard as it's never been told before--a romantasy murder mystery.Mallory Fontaine is a fraud. Though she comes from a long line of witches, the only magic she possesses is the ability to see ghosts, which is rarely as useful as one would think. She and her sister have maintained the family business, eking out a paltry living by selling bogus spells to gullible buyers and conducting tours of the infamous mansion where the first of the Saphir murders took place.Mallory is a self-proclaimed expert on Count Bastien Saphir—otherwise known as Monsieur Le Bleu—who brutally killed three of his wives more than a century ago. But she never expected to meet Bastien's great-great grandson and heir to the Saphir estate. Armand is handsome, wealthy, and convinced that the Fontaine Sisters are as talented as they claim. The perfect mark. When he offers Mallory a large sum of money to rid his ancestral home of Le Bleu's ghost, she can’t resist. A paid vacation at Armand’s country manor? It’s practically a dream come true, never mind the ghosts of murdered wives and the monsters that are as common as household pests.But when murder again comes to the House Saphir, Mallory finds herself at the center of the investigation—and she is almost certain the killer is mortal. If she has any hope of cashing in on the payment she was promised, she’ll have to solve the murder and banish the ghost, all while upholding the illusion of witchcraft.But that all sounds relatively easy compared to her biggest learning to trust her heart. Especially when the person her heart wants the most might be a murderer himself.
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The holiday spirit is the last thing on my mind, and he’s focused on his new beginning. But one mistletoe moment might change everything.CallieSpending the holidays alone for the first time in four years wasn’t exactly on my wish list. But with a major shake-up at work and more changes than I ever saw coming, embracing my new reality seems like the only option.And then there’s Travis—charming, handsome, and a Texas drawl that could make any woman weak in the knees. But is it too soon to start something new? I’ve been out of the dating game for a while, and maybe this season is meant for family, friends, and finding joy in my new season.One thing’s for sure—I’m in no hurry for Christmas to arrive.TravisChristmas in the Northeast? In the freezing cold? Yeah, not exactly my idea of home. But turning down this job offer wasn’t an option—it’s the kind of opportunity that doesn’t come around every day.Still, spending the holidays away from everything and everyone I love is tougher than I expected. And then there’s Callie. I never planned to meet someone like her, let alone work so closely with her.Now I’m left wondering… is taking this risk worth everything I’ve worked for?Have you read the award-winning UnLucky Christmas? Don’t miss the chance to catch up with your favorite characters in Can’t Hurry Christmas from USA Today Bestselling Author Melissa Baldwin.
“Callie, I know this isn’t a typical holiday season for you. I can’t imagine how you are feeling now that…things are different without ...”
“You can say his name, Hannah.”
“Joey,” she says softly. “I’m sorry. I know this is a difficult time.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry. I asked him to set a wedding date, and he said he wasn’t ready and didn’t know when he would be. That pretty much told me everything I needed to know. Our goals were not exactly as aligned as I thought they were.”
She places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Proud? For getting dumped?”
“No. For not settling,” she explains. “And for letting me drag you into crazy holiday chaos instead of spending the night alone, binge-watching TV shows you’ve seen a hundred times.”
I laugh under my breath. “You’re not wrong. This is good for me—I always do better when I’m busy.”
“You might even enjoy yourself at the festive family night,” she says, tying another bow in less than two seconds.
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be a blast,” I say flatly. “Hundreds of children, awkward small talk, and tacky decor. I’m all in.”
She giggles. “By the way, Anna’s new friend is coming with us. Her name’s Mia. She’s such a sweetheart.”
“Cool,” I say, biting my lip as I attempt another bow.
“And her dad’s meeting us there.”
I glance up. “Okay?”
“He’s a very nice guy…”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s great. Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”
She conveniently avoids making eye contact with me.
“Hannah…”
“Yes?”
“What are you up to?”
“I’m not up to anything,” she says, innocently. “I just thought it might be nice for you to meet a new friend.”
I stare at her. I should’ve known she was up to something. She was very insistent that I go to the festive family night.
She shrugs. “Anyway, he’s single. And nice. He has a good job. And he’s very—”
“Stop right there,” I interrupt. “No setups. You promised.”
“I didn’t set you up,” she says. “I merely mentioned that a single, employed man who also happens to be a devoted father will be in the same vicinity as you.”
“Oh, well in that case,” I say, rolling my eyes again.
She smirks and reaches over to take the mangled ribbon from my hands. “Here, let me help. You’re not exactly grasping the bow tying process here.”
“I didn’t get Mom’s crafty gene like you,” I mutter.
She laughs. “No. But you certainly inherited the moody gene from her.”
“I’m not the only one,” I tell her.
She holds up a perfectly wrapped box, complete with an elaborate gold bow. “See? We make a good team.”
“Always,” I say. “You do the work, and I’m here for moral support.”
Schuyler returned to his chair and slumped into it. The right side of his mouth parted to reveal bright, predatory, white teeth. I noticed he never smiled fully, but only in these half-grins somewhere between a chuckle and a leer. It didn’t do much to convince me we shared the same principles.
He said, “I believe an associate of mine is guilty of combustion, in violation of California state law.”
“Do you have a name?” I asked.
“Naomi Battle.” He said it like it was a name I should know.
“Who is she?”
“Like I said, an associate. A business associate. Some might call her a competitor, but I don’t see it that way. We’re both striving for the same objective. We’ll get there faster if we each know the other is working just as hard to get there first.” His gaze strayed to the window behind me. “My father always said it’s easy to see others as obstacles, as enemies. It’s much harder to admit the only obstacles are your own abilities, the only enemy, your own blindness.”
I thought that all sounded very nice. I thought Schuyler could print those words under a photo of a cloud-covered mountain peak and put it in an ornate gilt frame that hung in his entryway so that any dour old ladies who visited would get misty-eyed at the hope that there were still men of substance, of principle, in this decaying world of ours. I said, “Why do you suspect Ms. Battle?”
“I’ve seen the smoke,” Schuyler said. “As the old saying goes, where there’s smoke …”
“You’ve seen it?”
He pointed through the wall to his right. “Her house is less than two kilometers in that direction. You could see it from here if the mountains weren’t in the way.”
I went to the window and looked out across the barren, rippling rock to the slope leading to the next denuded peak, then down below to the fire-scalded landscape that provided a buffer between Schuyler and Battle and the artificial light and greenery of the regular rich, and beyond to the Pacific thundering against the sea wall guarding the long-submerged beaches. If anything were burning up here, you’d see it for kilometers around.
I turned to face him and shook my head. “I don’t do that. No neighbors, no relatives, no co-workers or business rivals or whatever you want to call them. Nothing personal.” I’d made that policy before I took my first private case. Most people are decent enough when left alone. But when you tell some of them that all the rest are criminals and it’s up to the rule-followers to enforce the law, that civility quickly goes the way of the manatee. Personal connections only made it worse.
Schuyler leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. It wasn’t quite the easy, confident motion he probably wanted it to be. It seemed to require some effort for him to shift his bulk into the right position. His mouth went on half-smiling, but his eyes were jade daggers.
“Mr. Carver, I’m sure you know the law,” he said. “‘A person may not knowingly refine, ignite or cause the combustion of hydrocarbon-based or so-called “fossil fuels.”’ And ‘any person, other than an officer or employee of a state or local governmental entity in this state, may bring a civil action against any person who refines, ignites or causes the combustion of hydrocarbon-based fuels in violation of—’”
“I know the law,” I said. “It says you may sue Ms. Battle if you believe she’s guilty of combustion. It doesn’t say I have to help you.”
His hands slipped forward from behind his head, and he seemed about to pound his desktop before he got control of himself and laid his palms gently on the smooth gray surface. “It is the moral duty of every upstanding citizen to ensure those who violate the laws of the state are brought to justice.”
“That’s my policy,” I said. “Things get messy when personal feelings are involved.” I knew I was crazy to turn my back on a hundred billion dollars. But I was doing it. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
Schuyler said nothing, just stared at me with a raised eyebrow and his slowly spreading grin. I waited for a minute, then turned to go.
He let me get to the door. Then he said, “What do you charge for a case like this?”
’Tis the season for second chances — and unexpected chapters . . .Tamara Pascoe has spent years saving every penny and perfecting her baking in the hopes of opening her own café in the cosy Cornish village of Penworthal. But when she loses her job, her long-held dream is suddenly out of reach.To make matters worse, her perfect café location is snapped up by newcomer Gage Bennet — a brooding ex-Marine with plans to open a bookshop.Gage has no time for pleasantries, let alone Christmas spirit. But he didn’t count on Tamara — sharp, stubborn and full of festive cheer.Tamara is impossible to ignore, and when the village book club throws them together, Gage realises they might just be able to help one another. Tamara needs a job. He needs help connecting with the community.Striking a reluctant truce, Tamara and Gage’s frosty beginning starts to melt as they bond over their shared love of books.As snow begins to fall and the fairy lights go up, could a little Cornish book club help two opposites write their own happily ever after?
The Christmas Book Club is a cozy, second-chance holiday romance set in the charming Cornish village of Penworthal. While it’s technically the second in a series, it reads perfectly well as a standalone since each book focuses on different residents of the same delightful village.
This time we follow Tamara, a mother (although her son is an adult now) with dreams of opening her own café, and Gage, a former Marine new to town who’s opening a bookshop. Their paths cross easily in this small village, where gossip is always the best news, and while the first impression is meh, it slowly turns into friendship and then more.
I’ll admit, the pacing felt very slow at times, and I didn’t quite connect with Tamara as much as I hoped. Gage, on the other hand, was a high point and I enjoyed watching him gradually open up and find his place in the community. I loved that he had a passion for history and books and was learning more and more about himself as the story progressed. If not for him, I probably would have given up. Tamara, is a strong and strong-willed independent woman and her guard is up a lot, so she comes off as rude a lot of the time... likely to keep herself safe. Sadly, that also just rubbed me the wrong way as I was reading her character at times too though.
The romance was sweet, if not especially swoony, and the festive holiday backdrop added a nice seasonal touch. I appreciated that the author took us through a few months of them learning about each other, so different from the insta-love of so many romance books right now. We see them flirting through Halloween, and working together through November, then on into Christmas.
Overall, The Christmas Book Club is a gentle, heartwarming story perfect for readers who love small-town charm, second chances, and the comforting feel of a Hallmark-style holiday romance.
Angela grew up in Cornwall and returns frequently from her new home in Nashville, Tennessee to visit family and friends, drink tea and eat too many Cornish pasties! A lifelong love of reading turned into a passion for writing contemporary romance and her novels are usually set in the many places she's visited or lived on her extensive travels. Thanks to her wonderful American husband she's a huge fan of transatlantic romance and always makes sure her characters get their own happy-ever-after.
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