411 on Books, Authors & Publishing

All That Remains
Samantha Grosser
Publication date: September 15th 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical, Romance

A choice shaped by war. A life in its shadow. One last chance to make peace with the past.

1998. Eva Marlowe has never asked her husband if he regrets his decision – she isn’t sure she wants to know the answer. But when news arrives that his estranged son has died, she feels the foundations of their marriage begin to shift beneath her. Then the funeral draws them back to Silverwood Hall where it all began, and she can no longer avoid the question.

1939. As Europe teeters on the brink of war, young socialite Eva Ravensby has been sent home from the Riviera in disgrace. Grounded at the family seat of Silverwood Hall, she chafes against the constraints of her upbringing, until her brother brings aspiring writer Ben Marlowe home for the summer.

Ben is utterly compelling. And wholly unsuitable. So when he asks Eva to marry him the night before he leaves for war, she refuses. Duty must come before love, and her father would never forgive her. But how can she possibly know the train of events her answer has set in motion? As the war takes its toll on them both, her refusal shapes their lives in ways they can never undo. Then, in the aftermath, an unexpected second chance arises. But the price they must pay for it is more than they could have imagined.

Now, decades later, as Ben grieves for the son he never knew, Eva faces the question she has spent a whole marriage refusing to ask: was she ever truly the life he chose?

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EXCERPT:

On the day of the funeral, Eva drives with her signature brand of recklessness and skill. When they were young, the thrill of it was intoxicating: Ben can still recall with absolute clarity the heady feeling of that long ago summer before the war – an awareness of their youth and vitality and a belief in the wonders the future had in store for them. He had never felt so alive. But as he grew older and more aware of his mortality, each swerve and near miss became nothing short of terrifying.

Now, watching Eva in profile as she slams her palm with impatience against the steering wheel at a slow car ahead of them, he finds himself thinking it would actually be quite a fine way to go, wrapped together in tangled metal, a definitive end.

Eva lets out a curse as the column of traffic slows to a crawl and he quenches a smile, taking the opportunity to watch her a little longer. He will never tire of looking at her face, marvelling at the fine chiselled lines of her cheekbones and her jaw, the forget-me-not blue of eyes that are still as bright and clear as on the day they first met. She catches him watching her from the edge of her eye and turns her head.

‘Are you all right?’

Her question drags his thoughts reluctantly back to the purpose of their journey.

George’s funeral.

His son.

He shifts awkwardly in the seat of the car. The trousers of the wool suit are rough and itchy – it’s been a while since he’s worn it and his skin has become more sensitive with age. He stretches out as much as he can in the confined space and tries not to think about how stiff his hips will be after an hour and a half in the car.

‘I’m fine,’ he says, and they both know it’s a lie.

He’s still in two minds about going at all and with each successive roundabout they come to, it crosses his mind to ask Eva to drive right around it and take them back home. But he says nothing, and the Audi bears them in sleek leather comfort ever closer to their destination.

‘We don’t have to go,’ Eva offers, reading his discomfort with her usual clarity.

‘But you think I should,’ he replies, which is unfair, because they’ve talked about it endlessly in the days since the letter arrived and they came to the decision together. But he’s in no frame of mind to be reasonable. Anger seethes in his gut, bitter and relentless, and he only hopes he can contain it once they get there. Eva says nothing, eyes trained with uncharacteristic attention on the road ahead.

Abruptly, the anger slides into guilt. Such a pointless emotion, but he’s spent most of his life in its grip, one way or another. Guilt for dreaming and wanting more; for hurting people and for poor decisions; for living a life that is full of regret for what he lost instead of gratitude for all he has. He loves Eva desperately and always has, but he’s conscious he has not always been the best of husbands. He lets out a low sigh.

‘I’m sorry,’ he offers.

His wife flashes him a quick look of forgiveness, and he touches his fingers to where her hand rests on the gear lever. The last person in the world he wants to fight with is Eva.

Author Bio:

Samantha Grosser is a very British author who doesn’t function without tea. Having spent many years teaching English in Asia and Australia, she has now made her home on the sunny beaches of Sydney, Australia, where she lives with her husband, son, and a very small dog called Livvy.

She is the author of wartime dramas Another Time and Place, The Officer’s Affair, and Out of the Ashes, and the historical novel The King James Men. When she isn’t writing or reading, (which isn’t often) you can find her either doing yoga, going for long walks, or watching old movies.

You can find out more at samgrosserbooks.com

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All That Remains Blitz

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Uprising
J.E. Rizzo
(Fitzjohn Duology, #1)
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Historical

England, 1381 AD: Blanche Fitzjohn is an outcast in her small coastal village. Not only is she the illegitimate daughter of John of Gaunt, the man responsible for her neighbors’ over-taxation, but she possesses strange abilities: hearing sound from miles away and smelling people’s emotions.

She takes solace in her studies with the local wisewoman and in her friendship with Geoff, a groom at the local manor. Until the day Henry of Lancaster, Blanche’s half-brother, brings her news of an arranged marriage to Sir Thomas Prescott, Constable of the Tower of London. Although she smells cruelty on him, Blanche agrees to marry Thomas in the hopes that her influence may help better the lives of Geoff and all England’s villeins.

But soon, the peasants’ discontent turns to revolt. Though her heart is of the people, Blanche’s nobility makes her an enemy to the rebels. To save herself and Henry from the executioner’s ax, Blanche must use every power at her disposal, even those she once considered a curse.

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EXCERPT:

Something shifts, like summer’s green leaves transforming to autumnal gold. Speaking with Geoff about my marriage hurts like I’d never expected, a deep ache. The moon thrums, and an owl, perched in a nearby tree, shifts as she searches for prey. My temples throb.

“It seemed…” he begins again. “It seemed he didn’t want to marry you, after you…” I glare and cross my arms before lifting my face. He continues: “I thought perhaps you could get out of it because…”

“Because of what?”

“Because, ye’re…”

“What, Geoff, what am I?”

His mouth opens like a fish above water, and he doesn’t bother to shut it. In the tree, the owl flaps her wings and leaps into the air.

“Ye’re…” The tips of Geoff’s fingers flutter. “Well, I don’t know what you are, Dandy. Ye’re just…yerself. And I thought—”

“You thought he wouldn’t want me?”

His face falls. “He’s not like you, Dandy. That’s all. He’s not a good man. I heard him talking, when it was just the men…”

He drops his eyes and his cheekbones redden.

Neither of us seems to know what to say next. After a full minute of silence, he lurches forward and grasps my shoulders, crushing me to his chest. “Blanche, just consider.”

I gasp and have to steady myself. But within seconds, tears come to my eyes, along with a calming release of tension. I grip his forearms, inhale his familiar scent. He’s always smelled of horses, with a hint of bread dough and sugar from the manor kitchens he’s constantly raiding. There’s something different tonight. I sniff. It’s crisp, yet soft. Evergreens in winter, covered with fresh snow.

He buries his nose in my hair. “You could refuse,” he says, voice a gentle rumble against my face, “and stay with yer mother. She’d be angry, yes, but she wouldn’t throw you out. They can’t drag you to the church. For a marriage to be real, you must consent.”

Consent. The word ripples through me. It makes me see that I want more, from Maman, from my father, but most of all from Geoff. I need something I can’t identify, something I can’t express.

“If I marry Thomas…” My muffled voice breaks. “It will make the duke happy. He’ll…” I tense, regretting my words.

“He’ll what?”

I can’t answer, can’t tell him that by marrying Sir Thomas, I hope to earn my father’s love. To replace…something.

The moon moves behind a cloud and the trees shift, branches releasing a shower of rain. Geoff drops one hand to the small of my back and lifts the other to my cheek. His palms are warm, and I slide my own to clench his upper arms. When my fingertips brush hardened muscles, I almost snatch my hands back. Before tonight, I still thought of Geoff as a child, the lanky villein who could ride any horse, no matter how fierce. Now…my mouth goes dry, but I can’t resist running my hands up the length of his arms, letting them rest on his shoulders. The skin beneath his tunic is damp with sweat.

Corded muscles tense and stretch beneath my fingers, sending little jolts through me. He stoops, chin brushing my temple.

I touch the notch of his throat with my fingertips. He freezes. Tiny curls of dark hair peek above his collar, tickling my fingers. He lets his face linger on mine, and I feel him inhale.

A pleasant warmth spreads through my belly, then down. Something’s happening, something I don’t understand. I should run, should leave. But I don’t. Another breeze drifts through the tree branches, and he pulls me closer, pressing me to him.

I feel him, all of him, from feet to chin, in a way I never have. A tingling, heavy warmth settles on me, and I feel Geoff’s own need pressing against my belly.

It should make me uncomfortable, but I find myself pressing back, wanting more. Wanting it all.

I’m not well-versed in what happens between a woman and a man—that’s one area of my education Maman neglected—but I’m not completely ignorant. I know Geoff and I stand on a cliff, gazing into a deep ravine. One more step, and we’ll both be lost.

I’m still touching his throat, suspended in our odd dance beneath the shuddering tree branches, when he bends further. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation of his stubbly chin against my face. He exhales, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Dandy…” he murmurs.

The owl swoops to snatch a mouse from the forest floor in sharp talons. Her screech is like a battle horn, ricocheting with painful deliberation in my skull, joined by the mouse’s squeal. My eyelids snap open and I step out of his embrace.

Author Bio:

J.E. Rizzo is a life-long history fanatic and writer of historical fiction whose work can be found in Vanity Fair, The Boston Globe, The Guardian, The Tudor Times, Tudor Life Magazine, Scary Mommy, and Ultrarunning Magazine. Additionally, her article, Past and Precedence: Abortion Law in the Middle Ages and Its Use to Overturn Roe v. Wade, won History Inquiry’s Medieval History Writing Challenge. Rizzo’s debut novel, Uprising, Book One of the Fitzjohn Duology, is forthcoming from Literary Wanderlust, and tells the story of Blanche Fitzjohn, a fourteenth century neurodivergent woman whose perceived disabilities become superpowers during England’s peasant uprising of 1381.

By day, Rizzo works in Human Resources—a field offering more than ample opportunity to observe the follies and fancies of humankind. Before her career in HR, Rizzo worked as an opera singer, a professional baker, and a dog walker. These days, when not writing she can be found running ultramarathons through the forests and mountains of New England, knitting, reading, sewing, baking, or performing any number of (what some might call) old-lady hobbies. She also keeps busing caring for her two children and forty-seven houseplants, making her husband carry heavy things and cook her gourmet meals, and rehabilitating her rescue dog and semi-feral ginger cat.

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Uprising Blitz

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Worse Than Any Bullet
Felicia Watson
(Fidelia Mysteries, #2)
Publication date: August 25th 2026
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Thriller

Everyone thinks their mother is murder but for mafia-family renegade Lucia Scafetti, that’s the literal truth.

When she laid her hitman father to rest, PI Lucia Scafetti thought she’d finally escaped her family’s criminal clutches. Ten years later, her estranged mom blows into Philly for a short visit and within days a friend’s dad is brutally murdered and Lucia is being menaced by her cousin and his fellow mafiosi. After her mother disappears, everyone: foes, friends, and free agents, descends upon Lucia in search of the thumb-drive her mom stole from a Caribbean drug lord. Lucia learns the hard way that the criminals besieging her will gladly kill to get their hands on that thumb-drive.
With the help of an intriguing ex-soldier, Lucia employs her skills, both detective and deadly, to solve the murder and unlock the secret of that enigmatic thumb-drive before it claims another life, be it her own – or that of her recently re-discovered son.

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EXCERPT:

“Someone’s in there.”

Lucia snapped into action, ordering Robbie to stay in the car with the dogs and retrieving her Glock from the secret compartment in the back seat of the Chevelle SS 454. She shook her head, indicating to Robbie he wasn’t getting an immediate explanation about the compartment and then stealthily approached the house.

Lucia decided to go around back and enter from the kitchen. The deadbolt had been defeated and there was no sound from the alarm system. This was no ordinary burglar.

Weapon ready, she crept into the living room where she could discern the muffled footsteps of someone descending the stairs. Lucia pointed her gun at the source of the noise and at the opportune moment, flipped on the lights. A hefty, masked and armed man froze on the fourth step as he realized he was facing a cocked gun.

Lucia warned, “If you’re thinking of trying anything, you better be a better shot than I am. Which is…unlikely.”

The man held his right hand out to his side, his gun loose. In a weirdly thick voice, he rumbled, “Hey, I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Breaking into my house armed with a military-grade semi is a really strange way to prove that.”

He chuckled and moved the gun slightly in a non-threatening manner. “Military grade? Nah, this is just a—”

“A Beretta Cx4 Storm. Which means you are definitely prepared for trouble.”

Rather than refuting her point, he urged, “I just want the thumb-drive, the real one. The one your mother stole from me.”

Not recognizing the term ‘thumb-drive’, Lucia silently contemplated whether this guy could possibly be looking for a body-part from someone her mother had killed. “You worked with my mom? Who are you?”

“I’m not wearing this mask ’cause I’m ugly. Who I am is none of your business. Just hand over the drive and no one gets hurt.”

“Seeing as I have the drop on you, that’s a toothless threat,” Lucia declared. “And I don’t know what it is you’re looking for, but you’re not gonna find it here.”

“For your sake, lady, I hope you’re lying.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m not the last person who’s gonna come looking for that thumb-drive. And I’m sure as hell not the most dangerous.”

Nodding at his gun, she countered, “Hard to believe. And I don’t even know what a thumb-drive is let alone—”

“It’s a computer thing,” Robbie announced from somewhere behind her back, his presence until that moment completely undetected. “You use it to—”

“Robbie?!” Her eyes remained trained on the masked man as Lucia barked, “What the hell! What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you so I came to check. Don’t worry, I left the dogs in the car. You know, so they won’t get hurt.”

“But it’s okay if you get hurt?!”

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction this argument provided, the man on the stairs suddenly leapt over the banister and dashed towards the kitchen.

Lucia followed but he was too quick for her. Standing on the back deck, listening to his footsteps retreating into the darkness, Lucia briefly considered giving chase. She quickly discarded the idea. Not only was there Robbie to think of, but Lucia was loathe to incite a gunfight that might frighten Mrs. Schwartz, the elderly widow who occupied the twin house attached to her own.

When she got back in the house Robbie held up his backpack. “I got it.” He took a deep breath and then said, “Wow, that was….”

“Terrifyingly dangerous?” she offered, while surveying the wreckage around her. The intruder had obviously conducted a very thorough search.

“Nah, exciting! I knew it was safe when I heard you handling that guy like a pro. Otherwise, I would’ve stayed in the kitchen. I swear.”

Lucia sighed heavily and impulsively put her free arm around his shoulder. “Rule number one, Rob? When guns are drawn? The situation is never, ever, safe.” She pulled him to face her and stared intently into his eyes. “Capish?”

Author Bio:

Felicia Watson started writing stories as soon as they handed her a pencil in first grade. She’s especially drawn to character driven tales, where we see people we recognize, people who struggle with their mistakes and shortcomings, acknowledge them, and use that knowledge to grow into wiser human beings.

When not writing, Felicia spends her time chasing after her not-so-brilliant, but darling and beloved dogs, is chased by her truly brilliant, darling and beloved husband, is known to friends and family as an amateur pastry chef, and still finds time for swimming and her day job as a scientist.

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Worse Than Any Bullet Blitz

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