Posted in #BookTours

Murphy’s Laws



30 Days.

7 Rules.

1 Undeniable Attraction.

Murphy’s Laws

by Terry Newman

Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy 


Thirty days. Seven rules. One undeniable attraction.

After her fiancé skips out on her wedding, Murphy Clarke buries herself in her life-coaching career and develops seven rules to protect her heart. Number one? Never take vacations.

Oops. We find her on a month-long vacation in North Carolina, where she’s alarmed by the sparks flying between her and an arrogant yoga instructor. She’s confident, though, that she’ll be able to keep her other six rules… until she isn’t so sure. Of anything.

Noah Andrews’s name was once synonymous with the San Francisco tech industry, but his heart broke – both physically and emotionally. After a heart attack sidelined his career, his long-time girlfriend dumped him. Why is he now so attracted to this woman who seems to embody the life he left behind?

Witty and full of heart, MURPHY’S LAWS is a story of second chances, small-town charm, and the beautiful chaos that comes when you stop following your own rules… and start following love instead.

 

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Chapter 1

Murphy

It looked as if the yoga class was about to end. Thank you, Jesus. And not a moment too soon. Murphy Clarke hadn’t intended to spend the third anniversary of her un-wedding in a yoga class some six hundred fifty miles away from home. But somehow her annoyingly perky sister, TC, had worn her down.

As a life coach, she couldn’t just take a month off, like her sister, the teacher, could. Her responsibilities didn’t end at the beginning of summer. She had developed a set of rules, and here she was, breaking the first.

That’s how she found herself in Summer’s Beach, North Carolina, staring at the boyishly handsome instructor who had a penchant for torturing his students with contortionist poses.

She sat up and was nearly standing when—

“It’s time for our ending meditation. Take the stillness and peace of this session as well as the silence into the world with you today.”

Murphy sighed as she sat back down. Apparently, rather loudly. Not only did her sister and their friend, Eli, scowl at her, the instructor fixed a spine-chilling stare at her with his steel-gray eyes. Again. She had walked in ten minutes late—through no fault of her own. Well, her client, Amelia, had a crisis and she couldn’t leave her hanging. She had to take the call. He had flashed her one of those if-looks-could-kill stares  .

Grimacing as she assumed the half-lotus pose, she placed her index fingers to her thumbs and slowly breathed out an om. She checked on her sister. Full lotus. Show off.

“Ommmm.” The instructor breathed out. The students followed with their own om, strung out so it felt as if the entire room was vibrating.

Brrnng! Brnng! Murphy’s cellphone broke the silence. Damn it. She reached into her tote bag and fumbled for it.

Brnng! Brnng! Her cheeks burning, she rooted around the large vacation bag and grabbed it.

“Murphy here. How may I help you…Josh…wait a second.”

She rose, gave the instructor a shrug, and walked to the back of the room.

“No, I don’t think so. I think at this point in your life you’re exactly where you need to be. Don’t you feel it?”

Josh Millcreek was one of Murphy’s first life coach clients. His level of self-confidence fluctuated over the three years of their relationship. This most recent crisis would end soon. She just needed to be there for him. And vacation or not, that’s what she intended to do.

She held the phone in front of her, nearly parallel to the floor as she talked. “You’re not your old—”

A shadow hovered over her phone. She blinked. Frowning, she looked up to see the yoga instructor. His eyes bore into her. He snatched the phone from her hand. She shivered as a spark of electricity skittered up her arm. She swallowed hard.

“What the…?”

The yoga instructor grabbed her phone? The tall, handsome instructor? The one with broad shoulders? And loosely curled caramel-colored hair? She imagined if he’d ever smile, he’d probably have adorable laugh lines. For a split second, she was lost in his penetrating eyes and those shoulders—far too broad to belong to a yoga instructor.

Earth to Murphy. That, however, didn’t excuse him from stealing her phone. She glowered at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” The nerve of this man.

“Ma’am” —Ma’am? He called me ma’am?— “we’re in meditation. Silent meditation. Who are you talking to?” He nodded toward her phone.

“My client, as if it’s any of your business.” She held one hand out, the other on her hip as she waited for him to return her phone. Instead, he raised it to his ear. What?

“Ms. Murphy is in meditation at the moment. I’m sure she’ll return your call later.” He clicked the phone off and tossed it to her. It bobbled in her hands before she clutched it in her palm.

“Let’s continue our closing routine.” He pivoted and walked to the front of the room, leaving her to stare at his nicely formed butt. “Now that I’ve put Ms. Murphy’s phone on airplane mode.”

“How dare you.”

Murphy grumbled to herself but returned to her spot and sat down next to her sister. She placed her left ankle over her right thigh and huffed.

“What is your problem?” TC kept her gaze on the instructor.

“I told you I didn’t want to go on vacation, but—”

“Ladies, are we ready? Ms. Murphy, you can talk about your fear of vacations after the session.”

“I’m not afraid of—”

“Everyone take a deep breath. Think peace and stillness. This is the attitude you’re taking with you as you leave the class.”

 




Terry Newman is an award-winning author who writes romantic comedy with a splash of fantasy.

Fueled by coffee, peanut butter, and popcorn, she writes stories set in fictional towns in northeast Ohio. Terry loves to place her characters in improbably situations, then allows them to take over…uhm…guide the story.

She lives in a small apartment with overflowing bookshelves, her muse, Moose, and all her characters, in North Lima, a real town in northeast Ohio. And, yes, it does get crowded at times.

 

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Posted in #BookTours

How to Love a Prince

How to Love a Prince
Hayden Stone
(Being Royal, )
Publication date: June 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance

What happens when a playboy prince must find a respectable husband to redeem himself and secure the monarchy’s future when he unexpectedly inherits the throne?

When London-based playboy Prince Theodor learns he’s about to inherit the Danish throne, he must clean up his scandalous image by finding an appropriate husband. But his planned redemption arc to audition fake boyfriends to fake marry creates another set of problems, until a fateful trip to Corfu, Greece, leads him to Greek Prince Stefanos, of the former Greek monarchy, and challenges his guarded heart as sparks fly.

It’s too bad they accidentally sink a yacht, which inevitably leads to more scandal, and they must start apart. However, Theodor and Stefanos can’t stop thinking of each other, leading to heated, secret encounters between Greece and England guaranteed to set the tabloids alight once their secret is revealed…

How to Love a Prince, Book 2 in the Being Royal Series, is a light-hearted royal rom-com featuring fake dating, opposites-attract, and forbidden love.

For fans of Red, White & Royal Blue, Boyfriend Material, and The Unlikely Heir.

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EXCERPT:

When I pause long enough to go to the bar and get some water, I bump unsteadily into someone. “Sorry,” I manage, clapping a hand on the tall man’s shoulder in apology. It’s solid muscle under my fingers. He’s even more built than I am, and I’ve kept in good shape since my military service years ago and more recent modeling work after that. Before I settled into working with my business partner on our design projects.

The man turns around, frowning, his mouth open to complain. Then his eyes widen in recognition, beneath a tumble of dark, wavy hair.

Of course he’s hot.

I grit my teeth. A hot man is what got me in trouble to begin with tonight. Or, more like, said hot man got himself caught up in the tabloids and then caused me problems.

Also, I might be staring at the stranger.

Not being a British royal usually has its advantages in London. Less recognition, for starters. I’ve lived in London for years now, away from Denmark. I get less than I would get back home anyway, unless on the off chance I come across a Dane or a Danish monarchy enthusiast. Which, surprisingly, happens more often than one might think.

Except I’m hardly being subtle tonight. I want to be seen. Straightening to my full height, I stand my ground in defiance.

Let them photograph me. I insist.

I want Aidan to know what he’s missing. He’ll be sorry then, him and his wretched groom.

Except it doesn’t make things any better, and then it dawns on me I’ve still been gawping openly at a gorgeous man, with olive skin and black hair and blue eyes. Which, I’ve got to say, is a stunning combination known to do a number on me. He’s mesmerizing. I gawp like a tourist taking in one of the wonders of the world. Believe me, he’s one of them. Usually, I’m a shade more coy, to my credit, but I’ve had a lot to drink tonight, and my filter is off. In fact, my filter’s probably tossed somewhere deep in the Thames, like a votive offering right alongside some Bronze Age weapons and Roman coins.

“Prince Theodor?” He has an accent that I can’t quite place. It’s totally hot, though.

“Guilty,” I say flippantly, recovering in an artful facade of manners. I run a hand through my hair. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to crash into you. Shockingly rude. Would you like me to get you a drink to make up for it? Please.”

“No need. Already have one.” The man holds up his cocktail, complete with little umbrella and some fancy garnishes. His eyes dance. “You don’t know who I am?”

If I hadn’t been busy staring at his face like I was trying to etch it into my memory for all time, I would have maybe looked at his hand with its cocktail. Confession time. “To be honest, I barely know who I am right now.”

“Fair.” The grin he gives is spectacular, easy, almost familiar. His white teeth match his white shirt. I shiver. “I can see why you might want to forget tonight. Bad luck about the news.”

Now he looks sympathetic. My face burns.

Oh, hell.

Does everyone follow the tabloids? God, has everyone seen my embarrassment coming before I did?

Even so, do I want to forget this stranger? The probability in truth is at around nil. Around us, the dance music thumps on, people laugh and carry on around the bar where we stand in the shifting strobe lights from the dance floor, all purple and pink and blue.

And then, everything comes crashing down again as his words belatedly register in my brain. My mouth hangs slightly open. So much for finding the evening’s prospect. He’s murdered my opening.

“Ouch, man.” My suaveness has gone right out the door of the club and died on the Soho street. Probably by drowning in a well-trodden puddle. “You had to remind me about the news.”

“Sorry.” He looks contrite. Then he searches my eyes, with amusement lingering in his. There’s no malice that I can see, which makes for a refreshing change, at least. “You really don’t know who I am?”

“How rude, I should have asked your name. I’m sorry, my manners have vanished. Terribly sorry. What’s your name, then?” I ask.

He laughs easily, shrugging. “It’s Stefanos.”

I go back to staring. Something is at last clicking into place through an absinthe-induced fog. No wonder he looks a little familiar. “As in, Prince Stefanos?”

That would be Prince Stefanos of the former Greek monarchy. The Greek Royal Family remains, but in exile outside of Greece, spread across Europe.

“Yes.” Stefanos bows his head. There’s something completely charming in the gesture, almost shy. Certainly self-effacing. “And I’m very sorry about the reminder of the tabloids. I know they’re a pain for all of us.”

“You just re-reminded me,” I complain, but I’m smiling, despite the miserable night he seems to insist on reminding me about, like he’s delighting in a few more twists of the knife. And despite my best efforts to forget about Aidan. A stab wound is like that. My gut twinges. Or maybe it’s the drinks protesting in my stomach.

At any rate, I’m distracted by Stefanos, the moment of his glossy hair as he laughs again, ducking his head down as he breaks my riveted gaze.

“I’ve got to say, the prince-per-capita rating in this club is off the charts tonight.” I gaze openly at him, leaning ever so slightly in. Yes, he’s hot. Confirmed. As if there were any question about his hotness. The evening’s at last starting to look better and better. Thank fuck.

“Absolutely—”

Then, in turn, someone careens into me—and my flirting is officially cancelled.

Because it’s officially messy o’clock at the bar before last call.

And I’m drunk enough to not have my bones left for balance—and I crash hard, my drink splashing him first—and I fall hard right into Stefanos’s chest.

Author Bio:

More animal than mineral, Hayden Stone is a writer of fun queer fiction, especially with kissing. He currently lives in Victoria, Canada, and has previously lived in Vancouver, Canada and London, UK. He likes strong coffee and is owned by two cats. You can find out his latest news on Twitter or Instagram, or at his website: haydenstonebooks.com

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Posted in Cozy Mysteries

Kerosene, Karaoke, & Kleptos

(A Camper & Criminals Cozy Mystery Series Book 44) 

Southern campground cozy tea party murder.

Spring has bloomed across Normal, Kentucky, and the Historical Society’s elegant tea fundraiser at The Milkery Bed-and-Breakfast is supposed to be the social event of the season. Fancy hats, polished silver, and enough gossip to keep the church prayer chain busy for months have the whole town buzzing.

Then Southern etiquette expert Florence Sparks winds up dead at the bottom of the staircase.

At first, Sheriff Al Hemmer believes Florence simply took a nasty tumble in her high heels. But when toxicology reveals poison, suspicion quickly lands on Tex Randal, the campground’s shirtless chiropractor, Reiki healer, and favorite local flirt, after one of his signature roller bottles from Cascades Mobile Spa is connected to the murder.

Mae West Sharp knows Tex may be many things, but a killer is not one of them.

So with the ever-nosy Laundry Club Ladies at her side, Mae starts digging through dangerous secrets, shifting social circles, suspicious seating charts, and enough small-town drama to make a casserole supper go dead quiet.

The deeper Mae digs, the clearer it becomes that Florence knew far too much about Normal’s most influential residents. Someone was willing to poison her to keep those secrets buried beneath sweet tea smiles and Southern manners.

Because in Normal, Kentucky, good etiquette might get you invited to the tea party, but it will not keep murder off the guest list.

Perfect for readers who love:

🏕️ Campground cozy mysteries
🫖 Southern tea parties and small-town gossip
👭 The Laundry Club Ladies
🔎 Amateur sleuths and twisty whodunits
😂 Southern humor, charm, and community drama

Welcome back to Normal, where the sweet tea is cold, the gossip is hot, and murder always shows up uninvited.

Posted in #BookTours

In the Orchards of Shadow and Light


In the French Resistance of 1944, trust is the difference between life and death. 

Post-war troubles heighten when our hero’s life is in danger and all he holds dear is at risk.


In the Orchards of Shadow and Light

The Shadow Series Book 1

by Arthur McMaster

Genre: Historical WWII Suspenseful Spy Romance



In the vast tapestry of war, outcomes are never certain. Its demands are endless, its sacrifices countless. Yet for one couple who will share war’s burdens and dangers-a daring American OSS agent and a French Resistance leader-its conclusion will transform both lives forever.

From the opening line, author Arthur McMaster, a retired foreign intelligence officer, makes clear: “No families escape the devastation of war.” What follows is storytelling you won’t be able to set aside. Amid the apple orchards and farmlands of war-ravaged Western Europe in the final years of World War II, we follow thirty-five-year-old OSS operative Claire Skiffington and French Resistance leader Jacques Berlangier through perilous clandestine operations. Eluding Vichy collaborators and Wehrmacht checkpoints, Claire’s cover is that of a simple pastry girl, but this emissary is far more than she appears.

Years after the Nazi menace has passed, in the small Breton village of Combourg, Claire and Jacques are in love and determined to build a life together. Their days and nights in Paris work to make it all magical. But someone wants Jacques dead. Why? And how will one estranged family member unlock the source of danger?

Brimming with suspense and rich in character development, In the Orchards of Shadow and Light features beautiful imagery and finely drawn characters. Written by former DIA-CIA analyst and award-winning writer Arthur McMaster, In the Orchards of Shadow and Light is the first in a trilogy based on espionage, romance, and suspense. Combines elements of “The Rose Code,” “The Nightingale,” and “All the Light We Cannot See” to create a rich atmosphere, original characters embroiled in real historical events, dangerous romance and compelling drama. This story represents one man and one woman’s perilous commitment to service in the face of danger: one couple’s commitment to overcoming treachery and blazing a future together.

 

What readers are saying:

“Finely crafted with an artisan’s touch, there is an unseen history beneath the lives of those trying to survive. Precisely researched, McMaster adroitly drops the reader behind the lines of clandestine operations. The grim destruction of Europe is brought to life with beautiful imagery and reconnoitered characters-every bit as interesting as those of Ken Follett’s Eye of the Needle and The Key to Rebecca. This is a fine novel no one should pass up.”

— William Walsh, author of Lakewood (TouchPoint Press)

 

As you begin this book, prepare yourself for reading a writer who knows the details of espionage so well they feel like second nature, rather than research. Prepare yourself for lush, lyrical prose and the historical span of an Ian McEwan novel. This is a spy story, a love story, and a family story set largely in France, during a war, but McMaster balances the deprivations of war with domestic arts, the healing chores of mother women who bake stolen oranges into cakes, somehow find tea to serve, and harvest the slenderest sprigs of tarragon and chervil, plucked from their gardens, and stored in delicate clay pottery. This is a white knuckle thriller written by someone with all the sensibilities of a poet.

— Susan Tekulve, author of In the Garden of Stone

  

**Releases June 2nd – Order Now!!**

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Near eleven, Jacques’s truck approached the barn. There, he and Claire saw two men in black coats putting a third into their vehicle. The barn behind them roiled in flame. From the look of it, the generator had exploded, or maybe they had simply set off some explosives. Jacques and Claire sat far enough back to observe what had happened but not close enough to be spotted.

“Goddamn it.”

“My God, Jacques,” she said. “They are taking him.” Their own luck had held. Thomas’s had not. “And he had been so clever. The boot heel. The shaving cream.”

“We have to go. Immediately!” Both watched, though only seconds more, until the Germans drove off with their prize, the barn behind them collapsing in flame. “Did you think he knew about Combourg?” Jacques asked her.

She had never mentioned it. They’d only met Thomas at the Laurent farm, in Épiniac. “As I recall, nothing was ever said to him about Combourg.”

“He would not know of the monsignor, Roger’s uncle,” she added. They had kept that secret. Claire rubbed at the palm of one hand, kneading it with the knuckle of the other.

“No. And he does not know our real names,” Jacques said. “But Roger Laurent could know.”

Jacques took her hand. “Thomas is lost, but what harm Roger could do yet is considerable. If he gives up Roger.”

“Will he? Where will they take him?” she asked as Jacques worked the truck around, knowing he was leaving behind his apples and, more importantly, his cover for travel.

“Saint-Lô, I would think. Some Nazi headquarters.”

As Jacques wrenched the truck sharply onto the road toward home, where the deeply distressed Claire would be able to arrange for her return to Bodney, a bottle scooted out from under her seat.

“Look at this,” she said, pulling it up from the floor. “It’s his Calvados.” Attempting to hold back tears.

“Keep it. We will finish it tonight in his honor with a tip of the hat to our friend.”

Passing near enough to the Laurent farm en route to Combourg, with relative safety still several kilometers away, Jacques pointed to the farmhouse. It was risky, but he had to take a look, remaining well back from potential observation. There, they were able to make out, standing near the entry door, the one thing they had hardly dared hope to see—a dark green motorcycle.

What Roger’s return portended was unclear, but given what had happened to Thomas, that outcome was surely the best they could have hoped for. Jacques slowed the truck and looked to the darkened house, their hearts racing.

“Oh my God. He’s come back.”

Jacques touched her hand.

She thought to say something, leaning into him. “Let’s go home, Jacques. Please!” Then added, “You did well, getting us through it all. So brave.”

“You and me,” he said. “We did. Together.” He touched her face tenderly.

In that moment, Jacques and Claire leaned toward each other for a necessary hug, and then a kiss. A kiss of relief. A kiss of what might yet be.





Poet, playwright and novelist, Arthur retired from full-time teaching, most recently as Visiting Assoc. Professor of English, at Converse College, in Spartanburg, SC. HIs books include: In the Orchards of Our Mothers (historical fiction novel); The Whole Picture Show (poetry) Musical Muse (academic); Birdies Never Die (golf); Givings & Misgivings (poetry) and The Spy Who Came Down with a Cold (poetry) and Need to Know (memoir).

Arthur’s first career was that of a foreign intelligence officer, with assignments with military intelligence and briefly with the CIA. Arthur earned an MFA degree in Poetry at University of Florida. Pushcart Prize nominations. He now teaches in Continuing Education Dept for Furman University (fiction and poetry). 

 

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You Had Me at Meow #CoverReveal

You Had Me at Meow
Gracie James
Publication date: July 7th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Some girls get fairy godmothers. Abby Thompson gets a talking cat with a British accent and absolutely zero chill.

After her latest blind date—arranged by her loving (but relentless) mother—ends in a concussion, a wine-soaked dress, and enough humiliation to power Manhattan, Abby decides she’s done with dating. Forever.

Too bad her cat, Mr. Whiskers, has other ideas. And he’s suddenly sharing them. Out loud.

“Honestly, Abby, your taste in men is almost as concerning as your taste in sweaters.”

His mission? Fix her train-wreck love life and help her land her dream job. His qualifications? None. He’s a cat. His methods? Questionable at best.

But somewhere between the disastrous first dates, ruthless office politics, and the unexpectedly charming veterinarian who might actually be worth shaving her legs for, Abby starts to wonder…

Is Mr. Whiskers a miracle? Or a catastrophe with whiskers?

Either way, her opinionated feline isn’t backing down. And if Abby wants her dream life, she might have to trust the one life coach she never asked for. Her cat.

You Had Me at Meow is a sweet, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy about finding your voice, risking your heart, and one very determined cat who refuses to let his human settle for anything less than purr-fection.

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Author Bio:

Gracie James lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and their sweet rescue cat, Pinky, and absolutely loves the rain. When she’s not writing swoony, laugh-out-loud rom-coms sprinkled with a touch of magic, she’s usually hiking up a mountain or eating chocolate like it’s a personality trait. Her creative peak occurs somewhere between “I should go to bed” and “well, it’s basically morning now,” and she considers sunrise more of a suggestion than a deadline.

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