ON SALE! Second book in series... 
It may be April Fool's Day, but this is no joke....
HARVEST MOON, latest release in the Blue Moon Lake Romances, is on sale for $.99!
“Struth has a gift for layering stories within stories
while keeping them all connected.”—Library Journal
“Struth is an author to watch!”—Laura Drake, author of RITA-award winner The Sweet Spot
“Sharon Struth writes a good story about love and loss. She knows her characters and has a path she wants them to take.”—Eye on Romance
“Struth is an author to watch!”—Laura Drake, author of RITA-award winner The Sweet Spot
“Sharon Struth writes a good story about love and loss. She knows her characters and has a path she wants them to take.”—Eye on Romance
Trent Jamieson isn’t one for
virtual romance, but there’s something about the intriguing woman he meets on
the Internet he can’t resist. Then the small town bachelor discovers the
mystery woman who shares her secrets with him online is the laced-up librarian
in his self-defense class! Veronica Sussingham may just be his toughest student
yet. Because how can he show the vulnerable beauty that some men are worth
letting your guard down for?
Veronica returned to her
hometown seeking shelter for her shattered spirit. The last thing she needs is
a blue-eyed charmer who wants to show her how to live—and love—again. Then she
discovers Trent is not just another admirer, but a man who knows her deepest secrets.
Now Veronica must choose between running from her past—or finding future
happiness with the kind of man she swore she’d never fall for….
Seated in her kayak,
Veronica tipped her head toward the boat’s back. A rolled up towel was tucked
beneath her neck and her sunglasses had been propped in the soft curls of her hair.
White cords dangled from her ears, presumably attached to ear buds. Her leg
hung out the boat’s side, bronzed and glistening. His kayak floated closer. She
wore a one-piece bright red bathing suit under a pair of shorts.
Veronica’s voice skipped
across the water, sweetly crooning about having a ticket to ride, a Beatles
classic.
Trent sat through two
verses, unable to wipe the smile from his face. His boat drifted close enough
to breathe in the tropical scent of her lotion. He dangled his fingertips in
the water, then lifted them and flicked the droplets through the air, toward
her arm.
She stopped singing, opened
her eyes wide, and lifted her head. “Oh! Trent.” She removed the ear buds and
smiled. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to enjoy the
show. Beatles fan?”
“Who isn’t? They’re great.”
She used her elbows to shimmy upright. “I’ve never seen you out here.” She
narrowed her eyes. “You’re not following me, are you?”
“No!” he said quickly, only
her laugh made him realize she’d been teasing him.
“Do you kayak much?”
“Been out a few times. How
about you? I’d never have expected to see you out here.”
She looked at him funny,
somewhat confused. “Why? I grew up on the lake. We were out on the water all
the time.”
“I hadn’t thought about
that, but it makes sense. Like the way we lived just outside Manhattan, so I’d
go into the city a lot.”
Their boats bumped, and her
lovely dark eyes met his, causing a commotion inside his chest.
“Last night was fun.” She
searched his face, as if trying to read his thoughts.
“I’m glad you joined us.
Sophie’s dog and Boomer were funny. I didn’t think dogs played.”
She laughed, her teeth as
white as the pearls she usually wore, which were absent today. “Bella has known
Boomer since I got him.”
“Even the dogs in Northbridge
seem to know each other.”
She grinned. “Anonymity
isn’t an option in this place.” She paused. “If you’ve got time, want to see
some baby ducks?”
“Sounds fun. Lead the way.”
She dropped her sunglasses
to her face, pulled the paddle out from underneath the corded deck rigging in
the front of her boat, and paused. “I’m glad for some company.”
“Me, too.”
Following her from behind,
he worked hard to keep up the pace. He admired her fluid movements, bred by a
lifetime on the lake. When she reached the shoreline, near some rocks, she
stopped paddling, turned around, and placed her index finger to her lips.
“We’re going in here.” She pointed to an alcove opening, where tree branches
hung low.
He ducked underneath the
branches and went in behind her. They drifted, slow and quiet, until she
stopped and motioned for him to bring his boat to her side. She held the edge
of his cockpit, steadying him next to her.
“Look,” she whispered,
pointing to the shore.
A mother duck waddled with
several fuzzy babies, bustling on the lawn’s edge, close to the water. The
mother glared their way, squawked loudly, and belted serious grunts of concern.
Her long neck swiveled between a watchful eye on her babies and the intruders.
“How’d you find this place?”
he whispered.
“We used to hide in here and
smoke cigarettes when we were in high school.”
“You?”
She arched a brow. “Don’t
let the pearls fool you.”
He remembered her passionate
kiss, the one she’d given to him purely by accident.
“Want to see where we used
to have keg parties?”
He laughed a little too loud
and received a startled quack from the mother duck. Lowering his voice, he
said, “Sure. Then where? The place where you guys performed satanic rituals?”
“Does Wiccan count?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She grinned. “Follow me.”
* * * *
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