How Many Copies Of The Homegoings Book Have Been Sold?

​The Price of Peace is the final showdown and book three for the No Regrets crew, where the masks come off and the bills finally come due. Shane O’Brien is done playing house. He’s been living his life like a "glorified roommate" with his wife, Isla, ever since she broke their vows with her best friend's husband, but now the cold war is turning hot. While Shane finds a temporary sanctuary with Maya Cruz, Isla is weaponizing their children trying to save a marriage that might already be lost, but will she realize this too late, or burn the whole house down. Speaking of Maya, she has a few secrets of her own, one that involves Mayor Rogers and a scandal that could level the city. ​In the courtroom, Crandon Morgan is fighting to keep his name clean after a very public mental meltdown. He’s looking for a comeback, but he finds a distraction in Tempest Summers, a new law junior associate with a haunted past and a hunger for a kind of justice the law books don’t cover. ​Meanwhile, Kole Michaels is trapped in a different kind of nightmare. A past mistake named Akeisha is using a legal loophole to pin a child named Urmagisty on him. With his relationship with a different Keisha on the line and his daughter Mabel watching, Kole has to prove he’s being set up before the lie becomes his life. ​In this game, peace isn't free, you have to pay for it in blood, truth, or with everything you own.

My husband Hades gave another woman my birthday celebration. Then he gave her my mother’s brooch. Then he let our son call her home. Nympha was the flower spirit who had grown up beside him. The healers said a curse was killing her, and she had only six months left before she disappeared forever. Hades said he only wanted her final days to be free of regret. So I was expected to be generous. Even when our five-year-old son, Eren, curled up beside her at the hearth and whispered that she felt more like home than I did, I still told myself he was only a child. Then one night, I heard him say to Hades, “Nympha is so gentle. So beautiful. I wish Mother could be more like her.” Hades only smiled. “Your mother is strict because she wants what is best for you,” he said. “But if you like Nympha so much, I can let her stand beside you at the family altar. She can bless you like a second mother.” That was when I finally understood. My husband had already given her my place. And my son had accepted her there. So the next morning, I placed a marriage dissolution agreement before Hades. He signed it without reading, because Nympha had collapsed again and he was desperate to reach her.By the time he realized what he had signed, I was already gone. If they wanted Nympha to be the lady of the Underworld, I would grant them their wish. But why, after I left, did Hades tear the Underworld apart looking for me? Why did my son cry himself sick, begging for the mother he once pushed away? And why did the dying woman they protected so carefully suddenly stop looking so fragile?

Ten years after my wealthy family took me back, I died in the rental house my billionaire parents had dumped me in. My son was three. Just to mess with me, the kidnapper gave me three chances to call for help. If even one person was willing to come see me, he'd spare my child. The first call was to my father, the man who'd spent fifteen years searching for me. He was busy directing the staff as they set up my adoptive sister's birthday party. When he picked up, he barked, "Estelle Emerson, seriously? Can you go one week without causing a scene? It's your sister's birthday. I'm busy. Don't kill the vibe." The second call was to my mother, the woman who brought me home and changed my name from Dixie to Estelle. But Vera snatched the phone and laughed so hard she could barely get the words out. "Estelle, seriously? If you're gonna make something up, at least make it believable. You look so broke you probably don't even have fifty bucks. What kidnapper would pick you?" The third time, I called Luca's father, my legal husband. He said he was in a meeting and didn't have time to play games with me. He also said that if I behaved myself, he'd agree to take me home for dinner next week. After the final call ended, I looked at the grinning kidnapper in despair and sent the last two messages of my life. A photo of myself covered in blood. And a short message, every word sincere. [I'm really going to die. In my next life, don't bring me home.]

The tale of a widow's harrowing journey through grief and peril into the cold remnants of a dead world. Damon Sharpe had in part found victory, he believed, in his battle to unearth a truth obscured by time. By autumn, he was dead, leaving to his wife Anne a house of unfulfilled wishes, remnants, and the key to the enigma of his obsession, the Mourner’s Cradle. A journey through grief and peril delivers Anne Sharpe from her home in St. Charles to the faraway skeletons of a long-dead civilization where she will find the desperate answers she seeks…or die trying. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

At least as far back as she can remember, she has always known she was different. Raised in a small town by loving grandparents and surrounded by generations of whispered traditions, she grew up learning that some things are simply known, not explained. Dreams carry warnings, family recipes heal more than the body, and the women in her family possess a gift they call "the Knowing." As she comes of age, she finds herself caught between the world she was born into and the life she hopes to build. Guided by a strong moral code, fierce loyalty, and gifts she doesn't fully understand, she must learn that family isn't always defined by blood. Set against the backdrop of Appalachian folk magic, old secrets, and deep-rooted traditions, The Knowing in Her Blood is a story of love, sacrifice, and discovering that true power lies not in where you come from, but in the family you choose and the life you are willing to fight for.

I was the only female carpenter in town, and I made caskets at cost price for anyone in the area who needed one. Everyone said I was generous, kind-hearted, the whole routine. Then one afternoon, Doug Hadley showed up at my shop with his wife Trish Grady and a handful of neighbors to order a cremation urn. Trish stared at the price tag. "An urn for only 50 dollars? What is this, scrap wood?" Doug shot her a look. "Don't run your mouth about things you don't understand. It's solid ebony. Bridget makes them herself, so it's cheaper." Trish snickered behind her hand. "Solid ebony? That might fool someone who doesn't know any better. My cousin runs a funeral supply shop, so trust me, I know what I'm looking at. This isn't ebony. It's plywood. It's five dollars' worth of material, tops. "I can take you all to my cousin's place. I'll make sure he gives us a deal." The neighbors were already nodding. "The urn's supposed to last a hundred years. Obviously, I want the best for my mom." "Selling plywood and calling it ebony... You ought to be ashamed." "Come on, let's all go to Trish's cousin. I'm not giving her the chance to make dirty money off any of us." Dirty money? As far as I knew, mine was the only shop in town that actually stocked real ebony. Everyone else used MDF. If they were not afraid of the thing falling apart, they were welcome to go for it.