Friday, April 1, 2016

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

 Getting past the librarian’s guard…

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….

Excerpt from HARVEST MOON:

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.”
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.”
* * * *