Monday, October 15, 2018

Cover Reveal for Accepting Aerin by Tinsley Sellers + Giveaway!



Cover Reveal for Accepting Aerin by Tinsley Sellers is the second in the Beckley's Daughters Romance series. It's a Small-Town Romance. Read an Excerpt & Pre-Order your copy today.


Title: Accepting Aerin 
Series: Beckley's Daughters Romance #2
Author: Tinsley Sellers 
Genre: Small-Town Romance 
Release Date: November 16, 2018 


Former Chicago Cubs third baseman Chet Coakley needs a quiet place to write the last novel in his best-selling series.

When a freak accident ends his baseball career, Chet finds his second chance writing a series of retro-detective novels. He's on a deadline and can't afford a distraction—especially not in the form of a vivacious blonde innkeeper who challenges everything he believes about himself.

Professional chef Aerin Buckholtz owns a vintage lodge and fifteen cabins on a secluded lake in the Michigan woods.

Betrayed by her best friend and self-conscious about her appearance, Aerin believes that romance isn't meant for her. She's building her business—and working to earn good reviews seems safer than admitting her attraction to a handsome former athlete who feels far out of her league.

Can Aerin and Chet learn to see themselves through each other's eyes and accept a love neither one saw coming?

This series is recommended for adult readers and contains explicit language and intimate situations.





Aerin


WHEN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN you have ever seen hands you champagne, you probably don’t want to lead with ‘But I’m not supposed to be here.’ I don’t even know why I said it, but looking out over the crowd at that moment I felt a wave of loneliness.  

These were my friends, my family—well, some of my family—and I truly belonged here. Everyone was having a great time, which was exactly what the event planner in me had hoped. 

But I also knew that if I disappeared right now, the party would go on and no one would notice I was gone.  I felt like the puzzle piece that has all the right colors but doesn’t fit with any of the edges. 

The dress and hair certainly weren’t helping. I didn’t even look like me.  When the wedding stylist saw my dress on the hanger, she clapped her hands in delight, exclaiming in her throaty Eastern European accent, I make you look like Lana Turner.  

This I can do! I knew who Lana Turner was, and I was certainly no reasonable facsimile. Much too short, much too round. 

I wasn’t the pin-up girl, I was the beach ball she posed with to show what a great time she was having playing in the sand. 

Nichelle had convinced me to buy the dress. It was definitely a splurge, and I wasn’t a bridesmaid; Heather and Brian each chose their closest friend as their single attendant.  

But as the owner of the reception venue, caterer of the meal, and baker of the cake, Heather had insisted that I needed a special dress, and that I take part in the all-day pre-ceremony girls-only style-a-thon with her stylists Roxane and Cecilia.  

Heather and Nichelle had emerged looking exactly like themselves: beautiful and elegant. I felt like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s outfit. 

But I had to admit: the cherry lip stain slicked over with rosy gloss was pretty. And the dramatic cat-eye liner was fun. 

Roxane had custom-mixed three shades to perfectly match my eyes. The woman was a wizard with cosmetics; now if only she could wave her magic make up brush and make these high heels less painful.  

Ignoring my pinched toes, I hurried to the kitchen to plate an extra serving. I didn’t know who this guy was, but he had to be someone that somebody knew. 

Random people didn’t just show up at the Starbrite Lodge on a Wednesday night after the end of the season.  

Sure, there would be weekenders through Halloween. Fall color tours were popular, and I had sprung for a few print and online ads. 

The lodge wasn’t full, but there were cabin bookings every weekend. Weekend—not Wednesday. So he had to know somebody here. Grabbing a second plate, I started arranging appetizers. 

He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Somebody’s relative? Cousin of the bride? I didn’t think Heather had any cousins.  

But Doc and Jolene Brondstetter had endless kids, grandkids, nieces, and nephews. Maybe he was a Brondstetter. But why not just go sit with them?  

I opened a fresh bottle of wine and poured a generous glass, then retrieved a bottle of the Rochester ale from the extra cases stowed in the walk-in fridge.  

Well, there were plenty of people here. I could ask around, or I could wait and see who claimed him. I grabbed the plates, signaled my server Corey, and asked him to follow me with the beverages.  

Placing the plates in front of my unidentified extra ‘guest,’ I waited expectantly. The plates were impressive; I was professional enough not to be falsely modest. 

Heather and Brian deserved my best effort, and I had outdone myself making certain that every nibble and every dish was both beautiful and delicious.  

Really, what did I have to prove to a total stranger? Not a thing, I assured myself, but nevertheless hoped that he would be wowed by the food I had painstakingly prepared.  

Wow, he said. Really? Wow? I had hoped for more, but just then Corey set the drinks on the table. I managed to explain what should be sipped with what before scurrying off to the head table, where I imagined that I saw Heather and Brian trying to flag me down.  

The happy couple were much more effusive in their praise of the meal, and my cousin Bucky, Brian’s best man, pulled me into a side-hug.  

Good job, Shortcake, he congratulated me. Who’s your mystery date? No idea, I shrugged. I thought he might be a random Brondstetter, but now I’m not so sure. Buck looked thoughtful for a moment.  

I don’t think so. Pretty sure I’ve seen him before, just can’t remember. I know, right? I agreed. He’s probably just related to somebody, right? Bucky continued to stare pointedly at the newcomer. 

Anyway, I extricated myself from the head table. I need to check the drinks. Looks like we might need to bust out those extra cases of beer pretty soon. 

No sooner was I en route to the kitchen than Doc and Jolene flagged me over to the Brondstetter table. Thankful for a chance to sit, however briefly, I joined the conversation in progress—something to do with a box of kittens left anonymously on the doorstep of Shirley’s Swift Stop.  

Still distracted by my handsome stranger, who I suddenly noticed having an animated conversation with Nichelle, I somehow agreed to adopt a baby cat as soon as Doc vetted them.

I finally made it back to the kitchen, where servers Corey and Lizzie had matters well under control. Corey was already correcting the beer shortage, and Lizzie was arranging some miniature boysenberry hand-pies on a tray.  

Jolene Brondstetter had been a little put out that she hadn’t been asked to make the wedding cake, so I had put her legendary baking skills to use by requesting her tart and tangy mini pies to complement the sugary sweet cake.  

They were working like a well-oiled machine, so I retreated and let them finish their respective tasks. It seemed I had nothing to do. It was barely 8:00, the sun just dipping below the horizon.  

The last fiery coral and dusty lavender streaks reflected off the lake, and I suddenly remembered the lanterns. I grabbed a box of extra-long fireplace matches, slipped out the side door, and headed to the shoreline, where a long row of candle lanterns on stakes waited to be lit. 

Kicking off those painful shoes, the sand felt soothingly warm beneath my feet. Bliss. I wiggled my toes and sighed. 

Striking one of the long matches, I moved from candle to candle, soft light gradually spreading down the length of the beach.  

The night air was still warm, with the barest hint of a breeze. I inhaled the woody smell of the forest combined with the herbal scent of rosemary from the herb garden planters edging the deck. 

When I caught a whiff of fresh laundry and spicy cologne I realized I wasn’t alone. 

©Tinsley Sellers 2018










Tinsley Sellers grew up in Chicago, spending her summers with her grandparents in a tiny town a lot like Beckley, Michigan. Life took her to Arizona, Washington, and Idaho before she finally found her home in Arkansas. 

She is married to the most amazing and supportive man, with whom she has rescued three dogs and two cats. When she's not writing, she teaches physics, astronomy, and engineering at the local university. 

When she’s not teaching, she’s probably trying new recipes. She enjoys fast cars, loud music, and long books.






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