Spotlight: It’s Mother-Pucking Christmas! by Alina Jacobs

Publication date: November 21st 2024

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

Synopsis:

When your grandmother stalks the star hockey player on the rival team because “You need a husband, Dakota—you’re not getting any younger!” it’s Christmas crazy on ice.
It is not, however, the start of our great love story.
I don’t date guys on that team.
He doesn’t do casual, drunken hookups, which is all the captain of the Icebreakers is getting from moi.

I give him the finger and tell him I hope he loses his teeth out there.
He smirks and wins the game because both this Christmas season and this hockey season are a fucking scam.

Then my younger, much dumber brother informs me that he owes his bookie a bunch of money and really needs the Icebreakers to lose their next game, and could I pretty please be an amazing big sis and date their captain then break his heart so he’ll suck and lose the game—otherwise little bro will get killed, or worse, our mom will find out.

As much as I eye roll my overly large, overly loud family, I’d do anything for them.
Including date the captain of the Icebreakers.

Barf.
Ryder is a Boy Scout. He doesn’t swear. He uses words like ma’am and sir. On our date, he opens my door, pulls out my chair, and helps me with my coat. He even volunteers at the local animal shelter and loves handmade sweaters.
No, it is not cute! Three warm, gooey cinnamon rolls dressed up as a six-five, hot AF hockey player are not my type.
At all.
Nope.

Santa better bring me something nice this Christmas for all my pain and suffering!

In bed though?
Let’s just say sleeping with the captain of the Icebreakers… is not going to be a problem.

Excerpt

“You’re stalking my client,” Hudson yelled at the old woman, who was completely unfazed by his anger. 

My teammates’ eyes bugged out like the pugs’, then they all collapsed, howling with laughter, at my feet. Even Coach snickered into his gloves.  

“You’re the Crusher?” My mouth dropped open. “You’re the one who’s been stalking me for the last five months?” 

“Stalker? Pshaw!” Granny Murray was offended. “I’m not stalking anyone.”

“You’re going to be arrested.” Hudson bore down on the woman.

“Don’t arrest my grandmother,” Dakota snapped at him. 

“She’s stalking him.” Hudson made a knife hand in my direction. “Do you know how much goddamn money this woman has cost me?”

“I’m not stalking. I’m leaving him presents and nice notes,” Granny Murray shouted. 

Hudson slapped a hand to his forehead. “Notes? They’re fucking pornographic.”

“Now see here.” Granny Murray wagged her finger at the tall man. “I’m just trying to rile him up for Dakota.”

“You frightened him, Gran,” Gracie scolded.  

“Oh my god.” Erik gasped at my feet, holding his side. “College Boy is afraid of a little old lady.” 

I sputtered, “Shut your mouth, Canada.”

“Are you going to ‘oh heck’ him?” Pete snickered. 

“Sonny, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You seem like a nice boy.” The old woman patted me on the arm. 

Hudson slapped her hand away. 

“As an apology present”—she grabbed Dakota and pushed her toward me—“I will let you have sex with my granddaughter. She puts out, and her boobs are real.” She squeezed Dakota’s chest. 

“Oh, uh…” I rocked back on my skates. “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but no. No thank you.” 

Dakota had the nerve to look offended. 

My teammates’ mouths dropped open, then they laid into me.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Fucking Boy Scout.”

“Come on, Ryder!”

“Jesus Christ, College Boy.” 

“Dude!” 

“Shame! Shame to the family. Shame to the team…” Rick slapped his glove.

“I’m not having relations with her,” I stammered. “I don’t even know her.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow. 

Pete muscled up to Dakota. “I’ll take the apology present, beautiful. I have a very nice hotel suite—hot tub, big bed. Expense account.”

“No! No expense accounts,” Coach barked. 

Erik shoved Pete aside. “How about a two-for-one deal?” 

Dakota looked interested. The pretty brunette put her finger to her lips like she was seriously thinking about it.

I sucker punched Erik.

“Hey!” Coach slapped the back of my head. 

I didn’t even feel it. 

“You’re not sleeping with her. Certainly not both of you, ingrates,” I snarled.

“Ooh, College Boy is mad!” Rick giggled.  

“All of you, shut the fuck up!” Coach yelled. “Shaddap!”  

I sniffed.

“Ryder, you’re kind of a prude.” Coach turned on me. “Dial it back. You’re almost thirty, for Chrissake, and for someone who says he wants a family, you’re about as effective as a panda in that department.”

Mike applauded. 

“But they’re trying to… you know… with a fan. That’s against the rules,” I argued. 

Coach sighed loudly.

“Oh.” Dakota piped up. “I am definitely not a fan. In fact, I hate your team. Arctic Avengers all the way. I’d never date the captain of the motherfucking Icebreakers. I will, however, sleep with you all.” She blew me and my teammates a kiss. 

“Fuck that!” My friends refused. “We’re not traitors.” 

“Dammit, Dakota!” Granny Murray scolded, “All that work down the toilet.”

“Definitely snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory,” Gracie said. 

Dakota scowled. 

“Well, that is how the Arctic Avengers do it.” I sneered at her. 

Dakota gave me the finger. “I hope you lose all your teeth out there.” 

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About the Author

If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!

Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books…

Sign up for my mailing list to get the free novella, AFTER HIS PEONIES, along with special bonus content, giveaways, and more!

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Spotlight: Unexpected Detour by Lynn Marie Jackson

Courage and Intrigue in Wartime San Francisco

Historical Fiction

Date Published: Coming December 10, 2024

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

When bombs fall on Pearl Harbor, the trajectory of Faye Baxter’s midwestern life takes an unexpected detour. Her fiancé Steve Connor enlists in the Army, and Faye follows him to California for a spur-of-the-moment wedding just days before he ships out.

Eager to contribute to the war effort, Faye joins the workforce in San Francisco, a city awash with jobs, handsome soldiers, cheap cocktails, and nefarious secrets. When she is recruited to serve as a courier for a government intelligence agency, the assignment leads her into a web of misogyny, deception, and espionage.

Will she learn to trust her instincts, value her own opinions, and raise her voice against injustice? Or are the risks too great?

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About the Author

Lynn Marie Jackson has spent many years engaged in the creative process working as a marketing strategist, copywriter, podcast producer, blogger, and novelist. Raised in California and Washington, DC, she is a long-time San Francisco Bay Area resident. When not writing, she’s on the hunt for inspiration; she can be found visiting museums, hiking new trails, or exploring any place well outside her comfort zone.

Connect:

Website: lynnmariejackson.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com

Instagram: @lmjauthor https://www.instagram.com/lmjauthor/

Spotlight: Bleeding Heart by Tricia T. LaRochelle

Danger lurks in the shadows as Sara and Scott's idyllic holiday takes a sinister turn. With a violent convict named Randy Meyers on the loose, every moment becomes a battle for survival. Will their love withstand the looming threat, or will it crumble under the weight of uncertainty? Readers who enjoy romantic suspense and strong heroines will devour Bleeding Heart by Tricia T. LaRochelle, the fourth installment of the Sara Browne series.

Sara Williams yearns for a tranquil existence as she embraces her new life as a teacher and wife. Her ultimate desire is to cultivate a sense of security and simplicity alongside her husband, Scott.

But the escape of a notorious convict, Randy Meyers, disrupts Sara's and Scott’s newfound stability, unleashing a wave of fear and uncertainty.

While danger looms, Sara is offered an unforeseen opportunity that threatens her future with Scott. Amidst the chaos of Christmastime, Sara and Scott's love is put to the ultimate test. With each twist and turn, they must decide: will they let fear dictate their destiny, or will they embrace the unknown with open arms?

The heart that beats the hardest is the one that refuses to bleed out hope. Dive into Sara’s world and witness the true mettle of the Christmas spirit.

Excerpt 

Copyright 2024, Tricia T. LaRochelle

I awoke to the light of the moon filtering in through the plantation blinds, our room quiet as a mouse. The measure of Scott’s breathing told me he was out cold. I turned over to face my clock that flashed 2:33 a.m. with its neon-blue digits. Why was I awake? A dry mouth answered me. Thirst. I did eat a lot of pizza, and I did have two cosmos. I sat up, trying to rouse my mind enough to head to the bathroom to get some water.

All at once, a noise came out of nowhere. What was that?

I froze. Was it the wind hitting the house? The forecast had called for high winds, the enemy of outdoor Christmas decorations. Plus, this house was new, and I needed to get acquainted with its creaks and gentle moans. A nearby oak cast its shadowy branches across my window, and I found myself imagining it waving hello.

I lowered my feet to the floor and stood, my body suddenly cold. After making love, I often slept naked next to Scott, but in the winter, my shoulders had a way of chilling the rest of my body. Realizing this, I shuffled over to my closet and grabbed a nightshirt and pants made of brushed cotton.

Another sound came from … upstairs? I gazed at the ceiling. Was it a scrape or …? I struggled to process.

And then bang.

My heart practically leaped out of my chest.

Okay, that wasn’t the wind. And that wasn’t a tree, either, unless one was coming through our second floor right now. I crept over to Scott and shook his shoulders. “Scott, I heard a noise upstairs.” Terror engulfed my senses, making it difficult to breathe.

All I could think was is it the escaped convict, Randy?

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About Tricia T. LaRochelle

Since she was a little girl, award-winning author Tricia T. LaRochelle has been obsessed with tragic love stories. No beach reads for her. Bring on the grit with a double side of turmoil. She likes to feel the character’s anguish as they fight to overcome obstacles to be together. Growing up in central Vermont, she has seen her share of tragedy but remains a hopeful romantic. She now lives in central Virginia, where she continues to foster the possibilities of how love can conquer all.

Flickering Heart, part of her Sara Browne series, won a Gold Medal in the 2023 Readers’ Favorite Contest for New Adult and was a first-place winner in the 2022 Incipere Awards for romance. Revive received an Honorable Mention in the 2022 Incipere Awards for romance in the same series. Her stand-alone contemporary, Sun in My Heart, won second place in the 2024 Bookfest Awards for Romance-Contemporary Romance-New Adult and a Bronze Medal in the 2024 Readers’ Favorite Contest for New Adult Fiction. Her next installment in the Sara Browne Series, Bleeding Heart – A Holiday Romance launches December, 3rd 2024.

Subscribe to her newsletter at tricialarochelle.com and receive updates and opportunities to win prizes or follow her on X, Threads, Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, or Pinterest.

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Spotlight: The Big C² by Ruth Fein

Stories from the Chronic Side of Cancer

Nonfiction / Health / Cancer

Date Published: November 15, 2024

As medical advancements accelerate, more people are living long lives with cancer. The Big C2 delves into how survivors can become thrivers, despite the challenges of a chronic cancer fluctuating between the need for immediate attention and the patience for watchful waiting. Through a collection of essays and interviews, it aims to enlighten the conversation around chronic cancer among patients, their loved ones and healthcare professionals. This book is an invaluable resource for anyone feeling alone or misunderstood while navigating this complex landscape. It offers transformative personal insights, tools and experience-based hope, emphasizing the importance of open, honest conversations to empower and support those affected.

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About the Author

Ruth Fein Revell is a health and life science writer with a distinguished 40-year career of published work, including for The New York Times. She has also lived with a rare chronic blood cancer for three decades. Today, she is a patient advocate, hosts global patient webinars, interviews world-renowned cancer specialists, and is the patient representative on a clinical guidelines panel of the prestigious National Comprehensive Cancer Network (NCCN). She lives with her husband and curly pup Ruby in a picturesque “city in the country” in Upstate New York.

Connect:

Website: https://www.RFRwrites.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ruth.wallens

Linked In: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ruthfeinrevell/

Instagram: ruthfeinr

X: @rfeinw

Spotlight: The Adventures of Ruby Pi and the Aviation Girls by Tom Durwood

YA adventure

Date Published: 12-05-2024

Publisher: Empire Studies Press

Nine YA historical fiction. The history of flight in nine stories.

Gia travels from Manhattan's Lower East Side to the Aleutian Islands to capture one of the most mysterious warplanes of all time - the Mitsubishi A6M Zero.

Young Yi-Tai Jo falls in love with the homely, misunderstood X-1 rocket jet. Heartbroken at X's failure to break the speed of sound, she may have a solution.

One morning, bratty Anke has a bitter spat with her sister, Romy. Yet when Romy is kidnapped, Anke is the one who can save her - using an old war-kite to glide to the villain's tower. Can she navigate gliding through the Black Forest and save Romy?

Ship-salvager's daughter Sarra defies a garrison to save Father from Rome's wrath. Can her home-made balloon win the day?

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About the Author

Tom Durwood is a teacher, writer and editor with an interest in history. Tom most recently taught English Composition and Empire and Literature at Valley Forge Military College, where he won the Teacher of the Year Award five times.

Tom’s historical fiction adventures has been promising. The stories have won nine literary awards to date. 

Connect:

Website: https://theaviationgirls.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5462355.Tom_Durwood

Spotlight: I Made It Out Of Clay by Beth Kander

DECEMBER 2024 INDIE NEXT PICK 

In this darkly funny and surprisingly sweet novel, a woman creates a golem in a desperate attempt to pretend her life is a rom-com rather than a disaster. 

Nothing’s going well for Eve: she’s single, turning forty, stressed at work and anxious about a recent series of increasingly creepy incidents. Most devastatingly, her beloved father died last year, and her family still won’t acknowledge their sorrow.

With her younger sister’s wedding rapidly approaching, Eve is on the verge of panic. She can’t bear to attend the event alone. That’s when she recalls a strange story her Yiddish grandmother once told her, about a protector forged of desperation…and Eve, to her own shock, manages to create a golem.

At first, everything seems great. The golem is indeed protective—and also attractive. But when they head out to a rural summer camp for the family wedding, Eve’s lighthearted rom-com fantasy swiftly mudslides into something much darker.

With moments of moodiness, fierce love and unexpected laughter, I Made It Out of Clay will make you see monsters everywhere.

Excerpt

The soft growl on the train is coming from me.

I flush with shame at the insistent rumbling of my stomach. Thankfully, the Monday-morning brown line is too crowded with bundled-up commuters for anyone but me to notice the sound. If someone does somehow clock it, they’ll probably assume it’s coming from the pigtailed pregnant woman I gave my seat to at the last stop.

The train lurches, and I nearly drop my peppermint mocha. Technically, you’re not supposed to have open food or beverages aboard, but no one follows that rule. You’ll only get in trouble if you spill on someone. Nobody really cares what’s going on in the background until the mess impacts them.

When my stomach rumbles yet again, the pigtailed pregnant woman gives me a conspiratorial look. Everyone else on the train might think it’s her, but she knows it’s me. She isn’t judging, though; her expression is friendly. Surprisingly kind and intimate in a maternal sort of way. I take in her pert nose, amused hazel eyes, and the beautiful coppery shade of her two neat, thick braids. I want to tell her I bet you’re gonna be a great mother—but who needs to hear that from a stranger? Besides, maybe she already is a mother. This might not be her first rodeo.

Another grumble from my midsection cues me to return my attention to myself. I smile weakly, averting my gaze as I take a slow sip of my mocha, attempting to temporarily silence my stomach’s demands. While I’ve always had a healthy appetite, lately it’s like I’m haunted by this constant craving. I can take the edge off sometimes, but I’m never really satisfied.

My granddaughter Eve, oy, let me tell you, she can really eat, my grandmother used to say with pride. But it wasn’t a problem when I was a kid. I was just a girl who liked food. Now, it’s like I can never get enough. I’ve been trying to tell myself it’s seasonal. The weather. Winter cold snap making everyone want to hibernate and fatten up like all those rotund city squirrels. But I think it’s something more than that.

Like, say, losing my father a year ago.

Or my looming fortieth birthday.

Or my little sister’s upcoming wedding.

Or the growing conviction that I’m going to die alone.

Or, most likely, all of the above.

Rather than sift through all the wreckage, it’s easiest to just blame my hungry malaise on December—and specifically, Christmas.

Holidays make excellent emotional scapegoats, and I’ve always had a powerful love/hate relationship with Christmas. I’m pretty sure that’s just part of growing up as a religious minority in America. The holiday to end all holidays is an omnipresent blur of red and green, a nonstop monthlong takeover of society as we know it, which magically manages to be both inescapable and exclusionary. It’s relentless. Exhausting.

But at the same time, dammit, the persistent cheer is intoxicating, and I want in on it.

That’s why I do things like set my vintage radio alarm to the twenty-four-hour-carols station that pops up every November for the “countdown to Christmas.” It’s an annual ritual I never miss, but also never mention to any of my friends—the literal definition of guilty pleasure, which might just be the most Jewish kind of enjoyment ever.

From Thanksgiving all the way until the New Year, I start every day with the sounds of crooning baritones, promises of holiday homecomings, and all those bells—silver, jingling, carol-of-the. I can’t help it. My whole life, I’ve loved all the glitzy aspects of the season. The sparkling lights adorning trees and outlining the houses and apartment buildings throughout Chicagoland always seemed so magical to the little Jewish girl with the only dark house on the block. And as an adult, God help me, I cannot get enough of seasonal mochas. (At the same time, I feel a need to assert my Hanukkah-celebrant status, resenting the default assumption that everyone celebrates Christmas. Because humans are complicated.)

One of the best and worst things about the holiday season is how much more you wind up chatting with other people. Wishing total strangers happy holidays, commenting on their overflowing shopping bags, chitchatting with people in line for the aforementioned addictive peppermint mochas. I’m not in the mood for it this year as much as in years past, but once in a while I’m glad to take advantage of the holiday-related conversational opportunities.

For instance, there’s a new guy in my apartment building. He moved in a few months ago. He has a British accent, thick dark brows, muscular arms, and a charming tendency to hold the door for everyone. I haven’t crushed this hard on someone since high school. We said hello a few times over the fall, but December has opened the door to much more lobby banter.

Hot Josh—which is what I call him when he’s not around, and am absolutely doomed to someday accidentally call him in person—has been getting a lot of boxes delivered to our lobby. Which, for better or worse, has given me multiple excuses to make stupid jokes. Most recently, a huge overseas package arrived; it had clearly cost a fortune to ship. Hot Josh made some comment about the overzealous shipper of said holiday package, rolling his eyes at the amount of postage plastered all over the box.

It’s better than if they forgot to put on any stamps at all, I said. Have you heard the joke about the letter someone tried to send without a stamp?

Uh, no? Hot Josh replied, raising an eyebrow.

You wouldn’t get it, I said, and snort-laughed.

He just blinked. Apparently, for some of us, all those cheery holiday conversational opportunities are more like sparkling seasonal landmines.

At the next train stop, only a few passengers exit, while dozens more shove their way in. The handful of departing passengers include the pigtailed pregnant woman. She rises awkwardly from her seat, giving me a hey-thanks-again farewell nod as she indicates I should sit there again.

I look around cautiously as I reclaim my seat, making sure no new pregnant, elderly, or otherwise-in-need folks are boarding. It’s only after I finish this courtesy check that I notice I’m now sitting directly across from a man in full Santa Claus gear.

He’s truly sporting the whole shebang: red crushed-velvet suit with wide black belt and matching buckle, epic white beard, and thigh-high black boots. His bowl-full-of-jelly belly is straining the buttons on the jacket, and I honestly can’t tell if it’s a pillow or a legit beer gut.

I’m not sure how to react. If Dad was here, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d high-five Santa, and they’d instantly be best friends. 

But I never know where to start, what to say. Like, should I smile at the guy? Refer to him as “Santa”? Maybe, like, salute him, or something?

I gotta at least take a picture and text it to Dad. He’d get such a kick out of this guy—

My hand automatically goes for my phone, pulling it swiftly from my pocket. But my amusement is cut off with a violent jerk when I touch the screen and nothing happens. That’s when I remember that my phone is off—and why I keep it off.

My rumbling stomach curdles. Even after a whole year, the habit of reaching for my phone to share something with my father hasn’t gone away. I’m not sure it ever will.

Shoving my phone back into my coat pocket, I ignore St. Nick and just stare out the filthy train windows instead. Even through this grayish pane streaked with God-knows-what horrific substances, the city is beautiful. I love the views from the train, even the inglorious graffiti and glimpses of small backyards. And now, every neighborhood in Chicago has its holiday decorations up. 

This Midwestern metropolis, with its glittering architecture, elegant lakefront, and collection of distinct neighborhoods sprawling away from the water, knows how to show off. Most people think downtown is prettiest. But if you ask me, it’s hard to beat my very own neighborhood, Lincoln Square.

In the center of the Square is Giddings Plaza. In summertime the plaza’s large stone fountain is the bubbling backdrop to all the concerts and street festivals in the brick-paved square. But in wintertime, the water feature is drained and becomes the planter for a massive Christmas tree. Surrounded by all the perky local shops, the plaza is cute as hell year-round. When you add tinsel and twinkle lights and a giant fir tree that looks straight out of a black-and-white Christmas movie, it’s almost unbearably charming.

We haven’t had a proper snowfall yet, so the natural seasonal scenery has been lacking a little. But even with the bare tree limbs and gray skies, the stubbornly sparkling holiday decor provides a whispered promise of magic ahead.

I really want to believe in that magic.

The light shifts as we rattle beneath looming buildings and trees, and I briefly catch my reflection in the dirty window. Dark curls crushed beneath my olive-green knit cap, round cheeks, dark eyes, no makeup except a smear of lip gloss I bought because it was called Holiday Cheer. The details are all familiar, but I barely recognize myself. I wonder if I’ll ever feel like the real-me again, or if grief has made me into someone else entirely.

Last month marked the one-year anniversary of losing my dad. A whole year, and it still doesn’t feel real. Most days, it seems like I’m in the wrong version of my life. Or like everything around me is just some strange movie set I wandered onto and can’t seem to escape. I keep waiting for things to feel normal again. For me to feel normal again.

Hasn’t happened yet.

Excerpted from I MADE IT OUT OF CLAY by Beth Kander. Copyright © 2024 by Beth Kander. Published by MIRA, an imprint of HTP/HarperCollins.

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About the Author

Beth Kander is a novelist and playwright with tangled roots in the Midwest and Deep South. The granddaughter of immigrants, her writing explores how worlds old and new intertwine—or collide. Her work has been described as “riveting,” “emotional,” “expertly crafted,” and “habit-forming." Expect twists, turns, and secrets, with surprising heart and humor. Beth has too many degrees and drinks too much coffee. Her favorite characters are her dashing husband and their two lovely kids. www.bethkander.com