Each and Every Summer by L A Tavares
General Release Date: 25th May 2021
Word Count: 76,038 Book Length: SUPER NOVEL Pages: 297
CHICK LIT CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE SWEET ROMANCE
Book DescriptionTime heals some wounds. The first time Lyla Savoie Kenney found love—boundless, passionate love—it wasn’t with a person but a place. She found deep-rooted endearment there, and in keeping with tradition, it caused her first real heartbreak too. Lyla grew up on the beaches at Begoa’s Point, a campground she and her father visited each summer for seventeen years. She spent each non-summer month counting down the days until she could return, until going back was no longer an option. Begoa’s Point closed with no explanation. Fifteen years later, now a widowed mother with a child of her own, Begoa’s Point is reopening its doors. Lyla is surprised when she is abruptly moved off the waiting list and given a reservation at the camp, but even more surprising is what she finds when she arrives. Weston Accardi, the first boy Lyla ever gave her heart to, is the proud new owner of the Begoa’s property. He has changed—and not just because a prosthetic leg now exists where a natural limb once did. He is no longer the carefree rebel he used to be but has grown into a responsible businessman. Their past, however, refuses to remain such, cycling back to smother the fire they’ve tried so hard to rebuild since her arrival to the reopened campground.
The campground was quiet. Not silent, but quiet. Silence on the grounds was a rarity. Birds chirped and critters snapped twigs and crunched leaves as they ran through the abundant foliage, sounding off their small, happy-to-be-out-of-hibernation squeaks. The fire Weston Accardi kept lit continuously, day and night, crackled and popped as it chewed into the pieces of wood he fed it.
Soon the soundtrack of the campground would transform from its current nature-inspired sounds to a blend of noises that belonged to the incoming camping families. Children would run and play, shrieking at decibels specific to summertime. Their laughter and yells would echo through the plush pine trees as parents unpacked the camping gear and essentials from the overloaded trucks to prepare the site that they would call home for the duration of their stay. Music—both played through Bluetooth speakers and strummed on old guitars—would travel from the dirt driveways beneath each RV and become one with cloudless blue sky above.
Each currently bare site would have a tent or RV secured on it, and every available rental trailer or cottage would have people occupying them. Every single one, Weston thought as he thumbed through countless pages of reservations. He’d requested the bookings be printed and delivered to the site he’d claimed as ‘The Owner’s Headquarters’ during the off-season renovations. The rest of the employees had WiFi access within the offices and laptops or tablets to view the information and spreadsheets, but Weston found nostalgic peace of mind by holding the printed reservations in his hand the exact way his father before him had done while sitting in the very same chair. A half-grin slid onto Weston’s cheeks. He was pleased with the turnout of reservations for the grand reopening of Begoa’s Point Family Campground. His father would have been too, had he been alive to see it.
Weston tucked the most recent reservation listings into the worn-out openings of the accordion-style folder and tossed it inside the door of his RV, which was situated in a wooded area well away from the hustle and bustle of the main grounds. When his parents had owned the campground more than fifteen years before, they had chosen a site at the center of the grounds directly within earshot of anything and everything going on within their property’s perimeter. They’d preferred it that way—involved, hands-on. In many ways, Weston liked that too, maintaining full control, but when the sun went down, he preferred a hushed space to retreat to in order to separate himself from his work and enjoy the serene nature that surrounded him.
“Achilles.” Weston followed the call with a quick, wet-lipped whistle and a pat of his palm against the thigh of his cargo shorts. He grabbed a leather leash from the picnic table with a clink as the metal clasp sounded against the tabletop. The dog’s ears perked up like antennas receiving a signal. His tail picked up speed, wagging in long, swift motions that swept the sand off the patio mat that covered the land just outside the RV. “Want to go on a run?”
The dog leaped from the shaded dirt area he could usually be found in—a spot he’d claimed to hide away in from Maine’s hot summer rays. He darted toward his owner and pushed his large head into Weston’s hips with a force that almost knocked him over.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Weston used his palm to ruffle the fur between the German Shepherd’s ears. Achilles bounded around in circles with an impressive agility comparable to that of a show dog. With his energy and antics, no one would guess he was missing part of his hind leg. Then again, like pup, like owner. Most people hardly noticed that Weston was an amputee as well. He was a man who ran multiple miles per day, every day, with his dog stuck to his side. He walked all over the campground and was hardly ever seen in a golf cart unless there was an emergency that he needed to handle sooner rather than later. He maneuvered around using his left leg prosthetic as if it were his own natural limb.
Weston stretched out his back and his existing leg before clipping the dog’s leash around his waist. The dog usually ran free, but the leash stayed on Weston’s person in case the need arose for him to use it. Weston took off down the winding dirt path into a long trail of cookie-cutter cottages—empty now but soon to be filled with families ready to embark on their summer camping adventures. There would be some newcomers, but most of the reservation list was composed of returning families from his parents’ time of owning and operating the same campground prior to its untimely closure.
He and Achilles ran uphill, turning a corner to jog past the recently updated tennis and basketball courts, as well as a newly renovated shower and bath house. A custodial worker waved as Weston came around the bend of the road and jogged past.
“Good morning, Larry!” Weston called. Larry tipped his hat in Weston’s direction. Weston had made it a point to learn the name of every employee—a rule of his father’s that he’d inherited and valued. He continued his journey down the pathway toward the beachfront bar and restaurant, stopping where Mark Jenson was readying the place for the upcoming grand reopening. The outdoor bar itself was a new addition, built while the cabins and sites were being remodeled, but Mark was an original employee. A longtime friend of Weston’s father, Mark had run the bar and restaurant during Begoa’s Point’s first run and had agreed to come back to manage the new facility.
“Morning, boss.” Mark moved large boxes of glasses from the ground to the bar top as the sun beat down on the tiki-themed hut while he worked. He wiped his brow on his forearm. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his skin at his chest and back. “What are we having today?”
“The usual will be fine.” Weston slowed and came to a full stop. Achilles followed suit, coming to a halt, then lying down in the small bit of shade the bar provided.
Mark grabbed a silver bowl from a below-bar cabinet and filled it with water before stepping out from the service area and coming around the bar to serve it to Begoa’s Point’s most prominent VIP. Mark stayed on one knee for a moment, scratching below the dog’s chin. Achilles stood and started lapping water from the bowl, leaving more water on the ground in a messy puddle than he’d swallowed.
Mark returned to his position behind the counter, filled a cup with ice and water and slid it across the bar into Weston’s hand.
“Where are you headed to today?” Mark leaned into the bar.
“All over the grounds, I think. The usual path.” Weston paused to take a sip of the ice-cold water. “At least as far as the marina. I just want to make sure everything is ready to go for the opening.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.” Mark raised an eyebrow. “Then again, it’s what you will probably say tomorrow and the day after that too.”
“I like to be prepared.” Weston sent his now-empty plastic cup back across the bar.
“You will be. You are your father’s son, after all. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Weston looked at Mark, analyzing the new lines that sank into his skin, but other than a few signs of aging, Mark looked almost the same as he had when Weston’s parents had owned the campground before its closure, leaving Mark and many others without a job.
“Thank you for coming back, Mark. This place wouldn’t be the same without you, even after all these years. I’m sorry we ever put you out of a job in the first place.” Weston turned his eyes downward in sadness.
“It’s not your fault, Weston—”
“It is, actually,” Weston interrupted, adjusting his ballcap, with his gaze still glued to the floor. He watched the dog, if for no other reason than to avoid Mark’s eyes. “You know it and so do I.”
“It’s not. You knock that off right now.” Mark’s voice teetered on scolding, and he wagged one aging finger in Weston’s direction. “You know that your dad used to come down to the old bar every night for last call. Every night. He sat on the same barstool each time, and you know what he told me?”
Weston shook his head. He had been only seventeen when his parent’s ownership had come to an end, so he’d not reached the legal drinking age where he could spend those waning nighttime hours with his dad, occupying Mark’s bar stools. His ‘no’ wasn’t an entirely honest answer to Mark’s question, however. He knew what Mark was going to say—what his dad had used to say—but he wanted to hear it. If he couldn’t hear it from his own father, Mark’s affirmation was the next best thing.
“He said it was his dream to see you run this place. So maybe it didn’t happen as he’d expected, but it’s happening, and you should be proud of that. You’re not a kid anymore, Weston. You’ve grown and should be so proud of who you’ve become. Your father would be.”
“I remember that. He used to come down here every night but never had a sip of alcohol.” Weston smiled at the seemingly small memories of his father, but they were anything but insignificant. They were everything.
“I remember watching you run around these grounds, from learning to walk all the way to chasing after the girls on the beach in your teenage years.” Mark continued to speak, but Weston’s mind was elsewhere, time-traveling down a winding path to his childhood.
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Release Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway: Head to Head By Eli Easton & Tara Lain
Nerds Vs Jocks, Book 3
If these two don’t kill each other, they might fall in love.
Rand hates Jax because he’s the laid-back, vegan-eating, tree-hugging, total-Zen-until-I-get-a-chance-to-screw-you president of Sigma Mu Tau, the nerdy fraternity that’s the sworn enemy of Rand’s house, Alpha Lambda Alpha. What a phony!
Jax hates Rand for being the privileged, rich-heir-to-an-oil-empire, environment-destroying, soul-sucking president of the ALA jocks—but mostly because Rand hated him first. Rand has sent nothing but hateful vibes his way since the day they met. What a douche!
The enemies have never had a single conversation that didn’t involve shouting—until Jax’s old Buick breaks down on a road trip and Rand plays reluctant rescuer. Jax is forced to sit on Rand’s dead cow seats. Rand learns chickens can enter the living room and that Jax’s beliefs are more than skin-deep. The bitter rivals embark on a quest to save a family member and discover that sometimes animosity is a mask for crazy-hot attraction. With this much face time, head-to-head might become heart-to-heart.
HEAD TO HEAD is an enemies to lovers, forced proximity, opposites attract, searching for his sister, clashing cultures, MM romance—with a whole lot of fracking.
Special Release Tour Excerpt:I’d known for a long time that Rand was the son of the founder and CEO of American Eagle energy company an oil-extracting and fracking behemoth. But it was one thing to think of it as something his father did. That Rand himself would be part of it one day, maybe even run the company—the enormity of that sent a chill of awe up my spine. “I can see that,” I said carefully. “It could be amazing. If your stockholders and dad, etcetera… if they’d let you really change things.” He frowned slightly. “Yeah.” I nodded decisively. “So. We’ve got it figured. You’ll be the hot young CEO running American Eagle and turning it to green energy, and I’ll be the rebel hippy lawyer watching your every step like a hawk.” Rand laughed. He gave me a warm look that curled my toes. “Sounds about right. Do you think we’ll ever not be on opposite sides, Jax?” I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it’s our karmic destiny.” I licked sticky candy off my lips and his gaze tracked the movement. He licked his own lips, seemingly unconsciously. The warmth I was feeling toward him—an oddity itself—flared into something else. Whoosh. I abruptly got up and tossed the remains of my candy apple in the trash. “Hey. Let’s go check out that haunted house ride.” At the Devil’s Dungeon, Loveda and Mikey got a car near the front of the little train. Rand and I got placed in the back, several cars behind. The teenaged attendant smirked as he pushed the bar down onto our laps. “Keep your hands and arms inside the car,” he recited. “Or the ghosts may rip them clean off. You’ll be dead of blood loss before the train even returns to the station.” My mouth dropped open. “Do you say that to five-year- olds?” He grinned. “Have a nice ride. And no making out.” Rand and I looked at each other and laughed. But my giggle, at least, was a little nervous. “He has no idea,” I said, as the train headed into the dark. “Right? We’re more likely to rip each other’s arms off.” “Totally.” Inside the dark building, the train tracks shifted and jolted—on purpose. Painted scenes of horror glowed in the dark. A guillotine. A graveyard. On my side, a Dracula popped out of a box. Drac was looking pretty raggedy. “He needs a new tailor,” Rand said, the jolting train throwing him against my side. “He’s looking a bit peaked. Want me to open your vein for him?” “You can try.” Rand’s teeth flashed white in the dim light. Wax heads on a rack were next. They were probably convincing in the 50s, but they looked lame compared to modern CGI. “Oh, man. This is so bad, it’s good.” Rand laughed. “I know, right? To quote Mikey: it’s a classic.” With a clang, our train lurched to a stop. A dingy white- sheeted ghost bobbed on my right. “Probably waiting for the train ahead of us,” Rand said. “Yup. No worries. You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?” I sneaked a hand onto his leg and squeezed. Rand grasped my hand in his for a moment and pinched it. “Stop that. Of course I’m not afraid of the dark. That would be childish.” “Uh-huh.” That brilliant comeback was brought to you courtesy of my pounding heart and dry mouth. Rand’s hand was big and so warm as he dropped mine back into my own lap. Aaaaand still, the train wasn’t moving. I tried to think of something else. Anything other than the feeling of Rand’s arm against mine. Anything except all the things that could happen in the dark. “So, um… what, exactly, did your dad say on the phone this morning?” Rand shifted. “Just what I told your dad. He wasn’t exactly shocked to hear Peyton isn’t with Jason.” I thought about that for a bit. The train sat there. “So your dad knew your seventeen-year-old pregnant sister wasn’t really with her boyfriend, and he didn’t try to find her?” “Jax—” “I mean, I heard Jason say your dad sent armed men to find him and warn him off. If your dad could do that, he could hire a PI to find Peyton and bring her home. Right?” Rand snapped at me. “You don’t know the situation. Okay?” I blinked in surprise at his tone. But, spark meet fuse. Like always, Rand’s anger set me off. “So what have I got wrong? That’s what happened, isn’t it?” Even in the dim light, I could see him gripping the lap bar hard. He glanced over his shoulder, but we were in the last seat, and there wasn’t another train behind us. He hissed. “So you’re saying he should have hired goons to track her down? That’s good parenting to you? He’s been sending her money, supporting her. I don’t even know if she had the baby. She said she didn’t want to see us. Maybe my dad is just respecting her wishes.” “But even if she fought with your dad, why wouldn’t she want to see you? You said you were close, right?” “Look, we’re not Perfect Happy Family like you are. Okay?” I gaped. “What?” “Can we not talk about this?” His voice was raised. He was annoying the hell out of me. “Dude. I’m just saying. Maybe your dad isn’t exactly being forthcoming. That’s all.” “Fuck off!” “Really? We’re back to that? So mature. Well, fuck you, Rand Ch—” Rand grabbed my neck with one hand and crushed his mouth against mine. For a moment, we both froze. What the hell was he doing? Kissing me. Oh God. Rand was kissing me. I’d imagined this. Last night when I showed him the guest room. In the car. Hell, long before that. Every time we fought at Madison, I’d wanted to grab him and shake him and…
Enter the Giveaway:
To celebrate the release of Schooling the Jock, Eli & Tara are giving away a $25 Amazon Voucher.
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About the Authors:
Coming from a background in computer game design, Eli has written over 35 books in m/m romance since 2013. The Mating of Michael (2014) and A Second Harvest (2016) both won The William Neale Award for Best Gay Contemporary Romance, and Eli’s books have won many awards from the Goodreads M/M Romance Group’s Reader’s Choice Awards. She is best known for her Christmas romances, the Howl at the Moon series of rom coms featuring dog shifters, and her Sex in Seattle series, which revolves around a sex clinic in Seattle.
About the Author:
Tara Lain believes in happy ever afters – and magic. Same thing. In fact, she says, she doesn’t believe, she knows. Tara shares this passion in her stories that star her unique, charismatic heroes and adventurous heroines. Quarterbacks and cops, werewolves and witches, blue collar or billionaires, Tara’s characters, readers say, love deeply, resolve seemingly insurmountable differences, and ultimately live their lives authentically. After many years living in southern California, Tara, her soulmate honey and her soulmate dog decided they wanted less cars and more trees, prompting a move to Ashland, Oregon where Tara’s creating new stories and loving living in a small town with big culture. Tara loves animals of all kinds (even snakes), diversity, open minds, coconut crunch ice cream from Zoeys, and her readers.
She has around 57 books published or scheduled for publication.
Connect with Tara: Website: https://taralain.com/ Facebook Reader’s Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/255111391312743 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/taralain/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/taralain Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/taralainauthor/ BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/tara-lain
★✩★ NEW RELEASE ★✩★
Summer Loving Book One
By AMABEL DANIELS
Genre: Contemporary Romance | Romantic Comedy | Friends to Lovers
Hosted by DS Promotions
Available in KINDLE UNLIMITED
The last time I saw the man—jerk—of my dreams, he fired me. Now, he’s back in town to renovate my bed and breakfast before the tourist season starts.
I might have gotten over my grudge, but I sure haven’t moved on since him. Harrison is the ideal hunk, or he was back when we were young and stupid. My contractor is still sexy, possibly sweet, and easily keeps up with my sarcasm…but he’s a package deal this time. He’s back with a daughter and a chip on his shoulder, neither of which should matter to me. But the more I see him on the job, each time we clash and fall into our thrilling push-and-pull, I have to wonder if there’s something fresh to start with him before the summer kicks off.
Of all people, it just had to be Jessie Green buying this old dump. Imagine my shock that the feisty, gorgeous, stubborn girl I fell in love with in high school is the owner of our town’s former brothel.
Her plans for a B&B are a nearly impossible race against time—doable, but it’s quite the hustle. With the tables turned—her hiring me—it’d be easier if I didn’t have to see her day in and day out, worrying if she can overlook our past, wondering if she tastes as good as she looks, wishing I could have a take two. Hell, even a take one
Cover Reveal & Giveaway: C*ck Blocked By K.C. Kassidy
Coming June 24th
Blockers, Book One
Grayson Darling is suddenly the new “it” guy. An American actor turned heartthrob, Gray rose to superstar status through his portrayal of a handsome and brave American military captain in an epic WWII love story now in its fourth season on a popular streaming service.
But Gray needs a break from stardom, from the flashing lights of celebrity and his legions of female fans that mob him at every turn. He needs peace and quiet, and a real holiday during the show’s hiatus and summer break.
Instead of returning to his home in Hollywood, Gray books a month stay at a small B&B in rural Ireland, where he hopes to write his first screenplay and free himself from outside distractions. And time away to decide who and what he wants to be to the world.
What he didn’t expect to find was an attraction to the grumpy innkeeper, Niall O’Reardon. A retired football player now home managing the family’s inn with his sister, Niall is completely unfamiliar with his handsome new guest, and only knows how Grayson makes his insides feel strange and fizzy whenever they interact.
Niall only wants to live in peace and solitude, not interested in the fame or notoriety that his past football career gave him. But when word travels that Grayson Darling is staying in Boyle, the wolves descend, bringing in hordes of rag photogs, ruining his peaceful existence.
At which point, Niall must choose between protecting Gray’s reputation or protecting his own heart.
Enter the Giveaway:
To celebrate the cover reveal of C*ck Blocked, we are giving 3 lucky winners the chance to win an early copy of C*ck Blacked!
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About the Author:
K.C. Kassidy is the pen name of award-winning new adult author Sierra Hill. She/her first MM debut under this new name will be released on June 24th.
Connect with K.C.:
Email subscriber link: https://www.subscribepage.com/authorkckassidy
Author: Garnet Christie
Release: May 25, 2021
Genre: Adult Enemies to Lovers
Cover design: TRC Designs
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster
Model: Morgan Waterhouse
She loves serving up Alpha male’s who are searching for their happily ever after, and paring them up with women who are equally, if not more, reluctant. Inspired by experiences in life, friends, family, and countless stories on television and books, Garnet writes whatever story is screaming at her the loudest.
When not writing, Garnet is found reading, dancing, and spending too much money on K-pop merch. All the above is achieved by drinking too much tea, avoiding sleep, and eating chocolate. Garnet also adores Italian food and will go to great lengths to hunt down a fantastic plate of Chicken Marsala that comes with a cannoli.