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Happy Release Day!
From New York Times bestselling author Susan Wiggs, a wrenching but life-affirming novel based on a true story of survival, friendship, and redemption when six girls come together in a Catholic reform school in 1960s Buffalo, NY. Perfect for fans of Before We Were Yours, Orphan Train, and The Berry Pickers.
It was a place frozen in time, an ancient fortress haunted by echoes that whispered against the gray stone in a mysterious, heavy rhythm, as though this place was entirely separate from the rest of the world. A sign by the inner door read Our Lady of Charity Refuge and Sisters of the Good Shepherd.
Mairin’s breath caught in her throat as comprehension crept over her. This place was the one mentioned in scandalized whispers from the older girls at school. It was the one people gossiped about when a girl suddenly stopped showing up to class. It was the place angry parents—like her own mother—threatened their daughters “I’ll send you to the nuns, just you see if I won’t.”
Amid the turbulence of the Vietnam Era, in the all-American city of Buffalo, New York, teenage girls were condemned to forced labor at the Good Shepherd, a dark and secret institution controlled by the Sisters of Charity nuns.
In 1968 we meet six teens thrust into confinement at the Good Shepherd—merely for being gay, pregnant, or simply unruly.
Mairin— free-spirited daughter of Irish immigrants was committed to keep her safe from her stepfather.
Angela—denounced for her attraction to girls, was sent to the nuns for reform, but instead found herself the victim of a predator.
Helen—the daughter of intellectuals detained in Communist China, saw her “temporary” stay at the Good Shepherd stretch into years.
Odessa—caught up in a police dragnet over a racial incident, found the physical and mental toughness to endure her sentence.
Denise—sentenced for brawling in a foster home, dared to dream of a better life.
Janice—deeply insecure, she couldn’t decide where her loyalty lay—except when it came to her friend Kay, who would never outgrow her childlike dependency.
Sister Bernadette—rescued from a dreadful childhood, she owed her loyalty to the Sisters of Charity even as her conscience weighed on her.
Wayward Girls is a haunting but thrilling tale of hope, solidarity, and the enduring strength of young women who find the courage to break free and find redemption...and justice.
Happy Release Day!
The next riveting summer suspense by the author of The Block Party and One Big Happy Family, Jamie Day.
WILL THIS BE THE BEST WEEK OF THEIR LIVES... OR THE LAST?
Julia, David, and Erika grew up together spending summers at their idyllic Vermont lake homes for as long as they can remember. Now adults— with their own sullen teens, endless mortgages, and low-voltage sex lives— the three friends have amassed secrets over the years.
This summer, David is eager to show off his newly renovated home—which now blocks his friends’ cherished lake views—and his much-younger girlfriend. He also, unwittingly, brings a nanny with a hidden agenda. What could possibly go wrong?
When David’s girlfriend mysteriously vanishes after a shouting match, Julia and Erika wonder just how well they know their lifelong friend. The lake harbors a harrowing two young women, with no known connection, vanished without a trace thirty years ago. Did the lake take another?
As a search is mounted, an intricate web of lies, deceits, and betrayals spanning generations starts to surface, and everyone finds themselves in danger of becoming the next victim. Of the lake, or something darker.
Running Hott by Serena Bell
(Hott Springs Eternal, #4)
Publication date: July 14th 2025
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
A jilted bride. A jaded divorce lawyer. A full tank of gas. What could go wrong?
Rhys: As a cutthroat New York City divorce lawyer, it’s my job to end marriages. Lifetime commitment? It’s for the birds. I do everything in my power to avoid it…until my grandfather’s will says that to save our family’s land, I have to become a wedding planner.
Worse, my first client is Eden Becker. She’s the sunshine-y disaster whose ex-husband I represented a few years ago in their divorce. Eden’s first marriage was a nightmare, so why does she think another one is a good idea?
Turns out, I’m not wrong. Her jerkwad fiancé jilts her, and as her wedding planner, I’m also her getaway vehicle. Now we’re on the road together—and all my complicated feelings about this beautiful, naive optimist are in the car, too. Along with a wild attraction I’ve been fighting since we first faced off across a conference table.
If this road trip goes on too much longer, I’m going to do something I’ll regret forever.
Like fall in love.
A spicy, grumpy-sunshine, jilted bride, enemies to lovers, standalone road trip romantic comedy set in the beloved small town of Rush Creek.
Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble
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EXCERPT
I reach for the sound system.
His hand snakes in and blocks mine. “Driver controls the radio.”
“No, dude. Everyone knows the passenger controls the radio. Besides, if you won’t let me drive at all, that’s not fair. I had to listen to ninety-seven minutes of your dirge list and way too much sports ball. We need a mood change.”
I cue up my playlist and set it on shuffle. “What I’ve Been Looking For” from High School Musical comes on. Rhys groans.
“What?” I demand.
“This is from a kid’s movie.”
“Which you must have seen, if you know that.”
“It was one of Hanna’s favorites. We watched it a thousand times. Which was a thousand times too many.”
“What I’ve Been Looking For” is followed by “Surface Pressure” and “All You Wanna Do,” and Rhys says, “Please tell me this isn’t all from musicals and Disney movies.”
“This isn’t all from musicals and Disney movies,” I say as Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me” fills the car.
Rhys’s jaw ticks. His eyes roll. His shoulders twitch.
“What’s wrong with this one?” I demand.
He heaves a long-suffering sigh. “He obviously doesn’t belong with her. Let’s look at the facts: She’s clearly not his type. He wants someone who wears short skirts and high heels, and she’s not comfortable in those clothes. If she keeps trying to convince him he belongs with her, they’re both going to end up miserable.”
I stare at his way-too-good-looking profile in the dimly lit car, agog. “Are you serious?”
“Would you argue with anything I’ve said?”
“It’s a friends-to-lovers song!” I cry. “They’re obviously going to end up together and be super happy. Because she sees him! And understands him. He’s happy when he’s with her, and that isn’t true with the short-skirts-and-high-heels girl.”
“I thought you were swearing off love and marriage.”
“Just because I’m personally swearing off love and marriage doesn’t mean I wish ill on other people who have found their perfect matches.”
“This,” he says. “This is why so many marriages end in divorce. Because we hear what we want to hear. And two people can hear the same song and find completely different meaning in it. Imagine if you were with a guy and this was your song, and every time you heard it you thought about how cool it was that he’d finally seen you for the awesome bleachers girl you are, and he thought about his ex-girlfriend and her short skirts and high heels and how he wished you’d get some personal style.”
“Grim!”
“Realistic,” he corrects.
One of his hands leaves the wheel. Settles briefly near his knee. Creeps into my Cool Ranch Doritos bag.
“What are you doing?” I shriek.
“Stress eating,” he says. “Your playlist has driven me to it.”
I do everything in my power not to crack a smile. “You don’t eat junk food,” I point out.
“That was before I realized that despite being divorced by a sociopath and jilted by a personality potato, you still believe in true love.”
I can’t help it; I snort at personality potato. “I’m the one who has the stress. I’m the one who got jilted. And if I’d known I was going to have to share my precious Cool Ranch, I would have gotten a bigger bag.”
I sneak a peek at him. He’s definitely trying not to laugh. And unfortunately, it looks good on him. I let him have the Doritos.
“God, these are disgustingly tasty,” he says.
“Right?”
We’re both quiet for a moment, worshipping at the altar of fake food. He quietly licks Cool Ranch flavor off his fingers, and I absolutely, one hundred percent, do not wonder how his tongue feels licking up the inside of his finger and across the tip of his thumb. How it would feel rasping over my own fingertips, drawn into the heat of his mouth.
Oh, hell.
I’ve tumbled into a sexual fantasy about a man who disassembled me like a kid’s discarded playset.
We make our way through Maroon 5’s “Memories” (“Memories of how I cribbed this entire song from Pachelbel’s Canon,” Rhys says grumpily), past Lake Street Dive’s “Hypotheticals” (“Now this is actually a great song; you’re one for, what, a hundred?”) to “Try Everything.”
“That’s shitty advice,” he says. “‘Try everything.’ I mean, no. There are a lot of things that are straight-up bad ideas. Bull-riding. Free solo climbing. Base jumping. Heli-skiing. Recreational fentanyl.”
“She doesn’t mean literally everything,” I say.
“See?” he says. “And there we have it. Two people, same song, totally different interpretations.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t see how that’s somehow a refutation of marriage. You’re so—”
“Pessimistic? Cynical? Misanthropic?”
“All of the above. You ready to tell me what childhood wound made you this way?” I ask, half-teasing…half…not.
He shrugs.
“Yes, Eden,” I say, pitching my voice low to roughly imitate his. “Since we have another five and a half uninterrupted hours of being stuck in this car together with absolutely nothing else to do, I would love to tell you all about my childhood.”
USA Today bestselling author Serena Bell writes contemporary romance with heat, heart, and humor. A former journalist, Serena has always believed that everyone has an amazing story to tell if you listen carefully, and you can often find her scribbling in her tiny garret office, mainlining chocolate and bringing to life the tales in her head.
Serena’s books have earned many honors, including an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, Apple Books Best Book of the Month, and Amazon Best Book of the Year for Romance.
When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also of how often she changes her hobbies and how passionately she embraces the new ones. These days, it’s stand-up paddle boarding, board-gaming, meditation, and long walks with good friends.
Connect with Serena
Website | Goodreads | Facebook Page | Facebook Group
Twitter | Instagram | Newsletter
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Happy Release Day!
Fate reunites a young woman with her ex-husband in a delightful and inspiring novel about family, old loves, and marriage on a dare by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Kerry Lonsdale.
Furniture artisan Meli Hynes still abides by her uncle’s truism: the only lasting love story is the one between artists and their creations. Having already given marriage a shot—for all of twenty-four hours during a Las Vegas fling—Meli made her choice. The wood-crafting shop that is her family legacy will always come first.
But when her uncle decides to sell to a competitor, Meli’s promised inheritance goes belly-up. She’ll do anything to muddle the deal. Including a marriage of convenience to an unforgettable and very practical old friend—the competitor’s son, Aaron. With a controlling family of his own, and every bit as impulsive as Meli, Aaron is in. After all, this isn’t the first time he and Meli got hitched on a whim.
The rules of the ruse are simple: public displays of affection and live together as happy newlyweds. The hardest rule of all? Never let real feelings get in the way of what they plan to be a purely professional second time around.
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PROLOGUE
Darkness shrouded the old cellar, causing a continuous chill
to trickle down her spine. The dirt floor felt cold against her bare feet and
her hands were dry as she rubbed them together. She could smell the musty
remnants of what had been stored there in the past and the earthiness of being
underground. The four walls seemed to be old stone or brick and they crumbled
beneath her fingernails as she tried to claw her way out—but to no avail. Her
exhaustion ultimately took over and she sat still, alone with her overwhelming
fears. She had been left isolated and abandoned—in the pitch-black.
She hadn’t heard the man in hours, or maybe it was days—she
wasn’t sure. In her bones, she knew this time he wasn’t coming back. The
plastic-bottled water and peanut butter sandwiches were almost gone; her mouth
was constantly dry. Her memory seemed to play tricks on her. How long had it
been since she’d gone to the casting call for young aspiring models? She hadn’t
told anyone where she was going, not her mom or even her best friend. She’d
wanted to wait until she got the job to tell them the great news. It had been
exciting; she dreamed of being a model and actress.
Her hands touched the dress she had been given to model—a
yellow silk sheath wrap that made her feel beautiful, grown-up, as if she was
finally someone who mattered.
She didn’t know how many times she had crawled up the wooden
stairs to the small opening into the cellar, checking to see if he had left it
open. But it was always the same—bolted shut. She had memorized each stair,
which ones were sturdy, which were creaky and unstable. There were nine steps
in total.
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember how she got
there or what the house looked like. Even if she had a cell phone, she wouldn’t
have been able to describe where she was—or even what town she was in. She felt
a million miles away from home.
But she wasn’t giving up. Though weakened from lack of
proper food, she dropped to her knees once again and crawled slowly toward the
stairs. Her knees were bruised and scraped from the dozens of times she had
attempted to escape—hoping that each time would be successful and she would be
free.
As she paused at the first stair, feeling the familiar
outlines in the darkness, she used her hands to steady her ascent; each time a
stair ahead. Her knee pressed against the first stair, then the second, and the
third. The creaks and groans were a disturbing symphony that reminded her of
her situation: she was a prisoner in an empty basement and no one was coming
back for her.
She stopped halfway to the top; her breathing quickening;
feeling lightheaded. Her stomach grumbled. Her hope dwindled. Each time she’d
gathered the strength to go up the stairs, it had turned out to be
disheartening. She was never going to be free again. How stupid and selfish she
had been, thinking she would become a model. She wondered if any of the other
girls ended up like this. Or was she the only one whose fate was sealed?
Looking up toward the opening, she thought she heard
footsteps. Yes, she had heard something. They were faint, but steady. He was
coming. She froze. Her knees and hands were almost numb—her fingers hurt.
Should she go back down or keep going?
What did she have to lose?
The footsteps were getting closer. They sounded like a pair
of work boots hitting old hardwood floors. There was a strange echo to the
movement, which was now above her. She could hear the creaks of the uneven
planks; a mismatched harmony.
The distinct jingle of keys, then the rattle of a heavy
lock.
She was going to stand her ground and push past the man to
make her escape. It was all she had.
She could barely breathe.
The heavy creak of hinges.
Her body numb. She tried to stand up, ready to fight.
The doorway opened a crack at first, then wider, and finally
pushed all the way open.
The blinding light overpowered her. Trying to escape it, she fell backward, flailing her arms in an attempt to catch her balance. She couldn’t focus on anything. She felt every step hit her back and ribs as she tumbled down to the dirt basement. Her head struck the floor. She lost her breath and closed her eyes.
Excerpted from Find My Daughter by Jennifer Chase, Bookouture, 2025. Reprinted with permission.
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