Are There Any Sequels To Nudey Beach?

If you're in Jupiter and looking for the Palm Beach County Library, the hours are pretty convenient for most of us. On weekdays, they usually open at 10 AM and close at 6 PM. Saturdays are a bit shorter, from 10 AM to 5 PM, perfect for a weekend read or to catch up on some research. Sundays, though, they're closed, which is a bummer if you want to dive into a cozy book before the workweek starts again. What I love about this library is that even if you miss a trip, you can access many resources online, including eBooks and audiobooks! It's a solid place for community events too, which is great if you’re looking to meet fellow readers or just want a change of scenery from your usual coffee shop. The atmosphere has this lovely calm that just invites you to find a comfy corner and get lost in a story. Libraries have become such essential hubs of knowledge and creativity, don't you think?

Sun, salt, and that slow golden-hour vibe — 'Tasting Summer' absolutely leaned into real beaches to sell its warmth. The bulk of the seaside scenes were shot around Sanya on Hainan Island, with Yalong Bay handling most of the wide, postcard-perfect visuals. You can tell by the sweeping, calm water and that soft, white sand; the crew also used Dadonghai Beach for some of the livelier daytime scenes where local vendors and boardwalk life add texture. Beyond the main stretches, several intimate shots — the evening chats on a rocky point and the snorkeling cutaways — were filmed at Wuzhizhou Island just off Sanya. That island’s clearer water and coral-backed coves gave the film a more authentic seaside feel than a studio tank ever could. Production notes I dug up mentioned that many background extras were local vendors and surfers, and that drone footage over Yalong Bay was key to selling the film’s summertime freedom. Personally, knowing they filmed on-location in Sanya makes me itch to book a trip; those beaches look even better in person than on screen.

I love coastal movie locations, and for 'Whiskey Beach' the filming landed squarely along North Carolina's coastline. The production used Wilmington as its base, but most of the on-location work happened at nearby shore towns — think Wrightsville Beach for wide, surf-swept scenes and Southport for those quiet harbor and historic-main-street moments. You can practically feel the salt marshes and the low, creaky piers in the finished shots. What really stood out to me was how the filmmakers leaned into the region's small-town charm: local lighthouses, narrow inlets, and quiet residential strips that give the story its melancholic, intimate tone. Folks I know who visited the set mentioned interior work being done at studios in Wilmington while the exterior drama unfolded along the beaches. It’s one of those adaptions where the setting almost becomes a character, and that honestly made me want to book a weekend there to wander the same boardwalks — big fan moment.

I've kept an ear out for Nora Roberts news for ages, and to be blunt: there hasn't been a sequel announced to 'Whiskey Beach'. I dug through the usual places—official newsletters, publisher updates, and Nora's social posts—and while she occasionally revisits themes or side characters across different books, 'Whiskey Beach' remains a standalone in her catalog. She writes so fast and so much that fans often hope for follow-ups, but she also loves crafting self-contained stories that wrap up cleanly. If you're craving more, the consolation is that her other novels capture the same coastal atmosphere, complicated pasts, and slow-burn romance vibes. I still hold out a tiny hope that she'll revisit those characters one day, but for now I'm happy rereading and recommending similar vibes to friends—there's comfort in returning to that salty, suspenseful mood of 'Whiskey Beach'.

There’s a hush about 'Mansion Beach' that clever novels wear like a second skin, and I love pulling that cloak aside. The house itself is practically a character: an ostentatious Victorian on a cliff with salt stains and a history that leaks through the wallpaper. One secret is architectural — hidden staircases and a sea-facing room that’s sealed off in the daytime and opens only when the tide hits a certain mark. That room contains old trunks, brittle letters, and a map with ink faded to the color of driftwood. Another secret is social: generations of one family pretending to be respectable while managing illicit trades on the shore. Smuggled goods, coded shell messages, and a ledger tucked into the stones of the garden wall reveal a network of favors and betrayals. The emotional heart of the mystery, though, is the quiet tragedy of identity — a long-hidden child, assumed dead, who’s been living under a false name as a caretaker. That revelation reframes earlier scenes and explains the haunting music that plays at night. I finished the last chapter feeling both satisfied and unsettled, the way you do when a book has knitted its clues into something human and messy — I still think about that sealed room and the tide that opens it.

Sun-drenched love scenes are my catnip, and beaches in romance novels hit that sweet spot of nostalgia, heat, and a little danger. I love how authors use sand and salt to strip characters down to their rawest emotions—think messy hair, bare feet, and a single heartfelt confession that feels inevitable. A few books come to mind instantly: 'The Summer I Turned Pretty' makes the beach into a living, breathing third character with bonfires, midnight swims, and that ache of first love; 'Beach Read' flips the trope by putting two very different writers in neighboring beach houses and letting the shoreline do the heavy emotional lifting. Some beach scenes are quiet and devastating, like the lonely cliffs and tidal pull in 'On Chesil Beach', where the setting amplifies tension and regret. Others are cinematic: fireworks reflected on wet sand, hands sticky with salt and ice cream, or a surprise kiss under a lifeguard tower. I also adore the way older novels use seaside towns—'Persuasion' at Lyme Regis, for example—to stage pivotal encounters that hinge on changing tides. When I flip through those pages on a hot afternoon, I can almost taste sunscreen and hear waves. If you want scenes that pair summer heat with romantic stakes, start with the ones above and be ready to get sandy.

Sunshine and cosplay are a combo I get way too excited about—beach conventions make people get creative with cooling fabrics and playful summer skins. I see everything from sleek swimwear recreations (think character-specific bikinis or one-pieces that match a character’s color scheme) to full-on beachwear mashups: sarongs, kimono-style robes turned lightweight, and even cleverly trimmed armor pieces made from craft foam so they don’t roast the wearer. Wigs are often thinned out or braided for airflow, and cosplayers swap heavy boots for sandals or water shoes that look right with the outfit. Practical stuff is a big deal too: moisture-wicking fabrics, quick-dry liners, sunscreen-friendly makeup, and small repair kits tucked into fanny packs. Props get adapted for sand—floats, foam swords, or small parasols that double as shade and accessory. I also love seeing summer skins from 'Azur Lane' or 'One Piece' inspire entire groups; colors pop against the sea and photographers chase golden hour for that perfect glow. Honestly, the best beach cosplays balance the look with comfort, and when someone nails that, the photos and vibes are unbeatable.

Sunset-smeared sand and the distant crack of a bonfire are such a rich backdrop that I always picture a dozen tropes snapping into place the moment someone says 'beach'. The classic 'beach episode' is a catch-all — it can be a light, comedic detour where everyone wears summer clothes, awkward swimsuits appear, and a character finally gets roasted in a teasing way. From there you get 'first-kiss on the boardwalk', lots of 'sunburn misunderstandings' (I still laugh at fic where an orange-red shoulder becomes plot), and 'friends-to-lovers' slow-burns that use late-night walks and shared blankets to nudge chemistry forward. Then there are the moodier options: 'hurt/comfort' after a cliffside fall, 'mermaid AU' or 'sea witch' fantasies that let authors reimagine canon with salty magic, and 'reunion' fics where estranged characters meet at a memorial or a summer festival by the pier. I love when writers throw in sensory details — the squeak of sand under flip-flops, salt sticking to sunscreen — because it turns a trope into a memory. If you’re plotting one, think about combining a small domestic slice-of-life moment with a larger reveal, like a secret letter found in a tide pool; that little contrast is gold to me.