






Chapter 1
Eve
I stared at the blinking cursor, praying for divine intervention to drop words into my head. Obviously not just any words. Wonderful words. Magical words. Or at least words my readers won’t give a one-star review.
My cell vibrated, giving me a reason to tear my eyes away from the blank page. I smiled as my favorite aunt’s face filled the screen.
“Aunt Winnie. How was the yoga retreat?”
“It was wonderful. The villa was absolutely beautiful and I felt such an amazing connection to all the attendees.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
“I truly did. There’s nothing like getting away from your normal space. It really helps recenter and rejuvenate,” she said.
“Your normal space is pretty great, but I suppose it still doesn’t compare to Tuscany.”
“Seaside is lovely but it’s nice to visit other parts of the world from time to time. There’s a different energy everywhere and it’s so healthy to experience and absorb it.”
Aunt Winnie is what my grandmother called a hippy-dippy. After graduating high school, she hopped into a Volkswagen Vanagon with five other people, hit the road, and lived like a nomad. She eventually settled in the idyllic town of Seaside, Oregon. And despite the fact she lived across the country from me, we managed to form a deep bond through her annual visits, phone calls, and a lot of letters.
“I should join you next time. A yoga retreat in Tuscany may be what I need to get myself straightened out.”
“Oh honey, are you still having trouble writing?”
I nodded, even though she can’t see.
“I’ve been a writer for the better part of a decade and yet, for the past three years, the words just won’t come. It’s like I forgot how to write. What’s wrong with me?”
“You’ve experienced trauma and need to give yourself time to heal from that.”
“The divorce was final three years ago. I should be healed by now.”
“Hmmm, maybe,” she said. “If you actually dealt with what happened.”
“I think I dealt with it pretty well. As soon as I found out John was cheating, I told him I wanted a divorce. I even went back to using my maiden name once it was final. Not to mention how I stepped out of my comfort zone and started taking pole dance fitness classes. I’m in better shape than I was at eighteen. Plus, I’ve made some amazing friends.”
“That’s all wonderful dear, but it doesn’t mean you’ve mentally sorted through it all or let it go,” she pointed out. “And the divorce isn’t the only trauma you’ve experienced. Grace graduated college then moved to England to pursue her master’s degree. That’s a big change for a parent.”
“I agree, the divorce and Grace moving across the pond were both big changes. But I honestly don’t think either of those are my issue.”
“Then what is?”
“I wish I knew.”
Thankfully I had some books stockpiled so my publishing schedule hasn’t totally
stopped, just slowed down a bit. But the last of my reserves is releasing next month, so if I don’t write something else soon, I don’t know what I’ll do.
“I have an idea,” Aunt Winnie said. “Why don’t you come here for an extended visit?”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t think I can.”
“Why on Earth not?”
“I really need to get at least one book done and I don’t write well on vacation.”
“Everly, you haven’t written well for the past three years and you haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Uh oh, using my full name. You must be serious.”
“I am serious,” she said. “A change of scenery might be just what you need. Plan on staying for the summer.”
Honestly, there’s no reason for me not to go. The only thing I’ll be leaving behind is pole class. I’ll miss my pole peeps, but it’s only for a few months. If there’s a chance it will help my words flow again, I’ll take it. Plus, it will be good to visit Aunt Winnie. We haven’t seen each other in person since Grace’s college graduation last year.
“Thanks Aunt Winnie. I’ll book a flight and let you know when I’ll be there.”
****
Max
“Let me help you with that, Pop,” I said. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I’m not an invalid. I’ve been unloading my own truck since before you were born.”
Which is exactly why he shouldn’t be doing it by himself. Instead of saying that and starting an argument, I emptied the last few items out of the truck. I watched my grandfather limp around to the passenger side and pull his toolbox out of the back seat.
“I can handle this if your gout is acting up.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Besides, this is a two-man job.”
“It’ll be easier with two, but I can handle it on my own if you need to rest.”
“Ach, I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
It seems like he’s pretty grumpy this morning so I let the subject drop. The man is seventy-three years old. He’s not going to change his ways at this point.
I grabbed a hammer and pry bar out of my toolbox and walked over to start the demo. The small deck we’re replacing is in pretty bad shape, so it didn’t take too long to dismantle.
Pop stood off to the side and watched as I knocked down the rest of the deck. His foot must really be bothering him because he’s never one to just observe, he’s usually right in the action showing me how to do it the “right way.”
Once I had the whole thing torn apart, I tossed the old wood into the bed of my pickup and joined Pop over by the pile of new material.
“I hope this scheme of yours works. Otherwise, we’re gonna be in the hole on this job. My quotes don’t leave enough room for us to spend double on material.”
We usually cut all the material on site, but I suggested we start doing at least some of it in Pop’s workshop and bring it with us instead. This is a small project, so it seemed like a good one to try my way. Surprisingly, he agreed without too much complaint.
“If it doesn’t work, I’ll pay for new material out of my own pocket.”
“I forgot you have those Hollywood big bucks and don’t have to worry about sticking to a budget.”
Ignoring the jab, I picked up my toolbelt and snapped it into place. Pop generally isn’t a ray of sunshine, but he’s usually in a better mood than this. The best thing I can do is get to work and finish this job early so he can go home and rest.
We worked side by side and got the flooring and steps done in record time. Thankfully all the cut pieces fit with minimal tweaking.
“Let’s take a break,” I said. “I’m starving.”
One thing I’ve learned through the years working with Pop is that he’ll keep going until a job is done. But if I stop, he’ll stop. So I make it a point to at least break for a drink to ensure he stays hydrated.
I ran to my truck and grabbed the cooler out of the back seat and joined Pop on the newly-constructed steps. Reaching inside, I handed him a bottle of water and a ham and cheese sandwich.
“Winnie Everly called last night. Her porch steps are loose and she needs a window in her studio replaced. Do you think you can handle that Saturday?”
That could explain some of his mood today, too. He and Winnie have been circling around each other since I moved here twelve years ago, and probably a couple decades before that too. I have no idea why they don’t just get together. They’re not getting any younger.
“Sure.”
“I’d do it myself, but I have that meeting with the festival planning committee.” He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed. “That shouldn’t take too long though so maybe I can take care of Winnie’s projects in the afternoon instead of having you do it.”
“I don’t have any plans for Saturday, so it’s no problem.”
“Guess I better take you up on that now because once the festival starts, you’ll probably be busy.” He grunted and shook his head. “You’re thirty-three. Time to start settling down instead of just fooling around, don’t you think?”
I’ll admit that for the first few years I lived here, I was very busy during festival season. Vacationing women were perfect for what I was looking for at the time. Namely no-strings sex and for them to leave when it was over. And even though I haven’t done that in a long time, Pop still brings it up every year.
The truth is, I’d settle down tomorrow if I found the right woman, but no one in Seaside fits that description. Maybe someday.

Welcome to Summers in Seaside, a small town located along the Oregon Coast and home of the Seaside Festival. This brand new series of short contemporary romance stories is filled with sun, sand and summer adventures that will tug at your heart strings.

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As a tween, Tina Gallagher and her best friend would create happily ever afters for their favorite soap opera couples. Eventually, the soap operas lost their appeal, but the writing never did.
Before living her dream as a full-time author, she worked a spectrum of jobs ranging from baking and cake decorating to marketing and project management.
In between creating memorable characters, traveling, and taking pole dance lessons, Tina enjoys spending time with her handyman husband, two grown children, and a Golden Irish named Thea.


Kayt grew up in the midwest surrounded by a loving family, which included three brothers, one sister, and parents who always fostered her creative side.
She wrote her first book when she couldn’t find a story about a certain type of a woman and a specific kind of man. She called it “Game Changer,” and in couldn’t have been a more appropriate title. It changed her life in many ways.
Her author goal is to write stories that romance readers can relate to, while making readers laugh and sometime shed a tear or two. Kayt hopes her readers can escape into a fantasy, one that’s actually possible.
Sure, some of the stories are dubbed “insta-love,” but that’s okay. She fell in love with her husband pretty damn fast and with her daughter the second she saw her.

“This book was very addictive to read! I just couldn’t stop reading! If you’re looking to get into small town romance, this book is for you! I’m exciting to start the 2nd book!” -Goodreads Reviewer“This book was such a page turner and there were so many shocks and stuff I thought I saw coming, but I was wrong, oh so wrong. This book was everything I needed. Addison and Chase, just wow. I am in love with these characters and even hours after finishing this my heart is still aching.” -Goodreads Reviewer


Upon realizing her picture-perfect life was a sham, Addison McCormick escaped it all by fleeing to the mountains. What she wanted was peace and quiet. A fresh start.


The bestselling author of the “clever spine-tingler” The Secretary returns with a vicious and suspenseful tale of love-gone-wrong.





“I’m not a child, Luc,” London pipes up. I look down at her mascara-smudged glare, my annoyance level dropping at the sight that’s more hilarious and adorable than menacing.
“Never said you were, Lonnie.”
“I prefer being called beautiful,” she grumbles.
I take a step forward and lift the clean corner of the towel and gently wipe around her mouth, my lips twitching as I look down at her gorgeous face. “Beautiful, you’re a cute drunk but you’re also a messy one, especially when you share your liquor with my turnouts and boots.” She giggles and my anger disappears completely. “I’m trusting Brock to—”
“Perfect Brock.”
The corner of my mouth tips up. “I ain’t calling him that, beautiful. You know there isn’t a man on earth that’ll ever be good enough for my girl.”
Her breath catches, a soft moan vibrating in her chest as her eyes flutter closed before slowly opening again.
“But I want you to go home, grab some water and some Tylenol, and go to bed. I’ll take care of your car and will come get you tomorrow on the way to lunch at my parents’, yeah?”
She stares at me for a good long while, but when the truck’s horn sounds, I know I’ve got to get a move on. “Can you do that for me, Lonnie?”
“Yes, Luc,” she nods, slowly at first then more enthusiastically.
“Good girl,” I say, earning a beaming, blinding smile this time. “And make sure you text me when you get home. Can you do that for me, beautiful?”
After she nods again, I lean in and touch my lips to her temple, ignoring how right it feels.
Before leaving her, I pin Perfect Brock with a knowing glare. “Straight home, man. I’m trusting you with something precious to me here.”
He tilts his head, rubbing his chin and studying me. “I can’t work out if you’re an idiot or you just don’t see it,” he says, pulling London snugly into his side. He looks to Cohen. “C’mon. You see it too, right?”
Cohen purses his lips and shrugs, not exactly denying it.
“What the fuck?” I ask.
He leans in and lowers his voice. “One date with this woman and I already know she’s someone special.”
I grind my teeth together so hard my jaw aches.
“And I don’t owe you anything, especially not after your friendly disposition tonight. But just so we’re crystal clear, this date stopped being a date when she told me she can’t get over her stupid crush on her best friend, and because I’m a nice guy, a good guy, and not the asshole you seem to think I am, I’ll give you some free advice. You’ve got a choice to make, and you’re gonna have to make it sooner rather than later.”
“Oh yeah? Enlighten me, wise one, who seems to know everything about my girl here.”
His eyes flash. “You can either open your eyes to what’s right in front of you and how good it could be, or you can let her go so she can get over you and find a man who’ll give her the world she desperately wants from you.”
Then, like he hasn’t just laid me out where I stand, he carefully turns London around and walks her down the sidewalk away from us, leaving me standing there wondering what the hell just happened.





“𝙊𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙” – ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Reading With 2 Book Lovers Blog



Alva and her wife Lise are on a mission to lead the sassy Princess Kaitlyn to a new land to combine her clan and a new clan by way of marriage to their chief’s son. Standoffish, the two quickly draw a disdain for one another unmatched by Thor and Loki’s. However, when a storm rocks their world and capsizes their boat, Alva and Kaitlyn are tasked with exploring not only a new world, but also their newfound desires for one another.

The cold metal of the rings did not affect Alva as they touched her flesh. She was aware of a greater chill now, and nothing would ever compare to it.
It was becoming too hard to keep herself composed. Alva had to get out of there.
With a hand covering her mouth, she darted out of the hut. “Alva!” A high-pitched, desperate voice called after her. But no one pursued, and Alva was grateful for that. She needed to be alone, where no one could see or hear her.
As Alva stepped back out into nature, she realized the song of death was not in her head; someone was actually singing it, and the rest of the tribe was gathering around them, joining in the performance. It was easy to figure out who was singing. Alva stepped to the edge of the village where no one would find her and just sat in her heartbreak, listening to the song that was sending her beloved to Valhalla. Was it appropriate that it was Kaitlyn who was singing the song? Alva didn’t know. Part of her felt that it was right. And the other part of her felt that it was adding insult to injury.
Lise was gone. Forever. And there was nothing Alva could do to change that fact.

