Welcome to my women's fiction world of Tuckaway Bay!
Beach Therapy launches the multi-book women's fiction series by Maddie James, writing under the pen name, Madeleine Jaimes, featuring the beach town of Tuckaway Bay. Come dive into the lives of six best friends, their loves, relationships, heartaches, family issues, and more!
Set on an east coast barrier island, the coastal town of Tuckaway Bay has a small-town, southern feel, and a beachy attitude. The locals are friendly and vacationers return year after year.
While the setting is to die for, it's the women in the stories that will keep you coming back to Tuckaway Bay. Come meet Lia, Maggie, Alice, Julia, Wren, and her identical twin, Willow.
Our beach adventure begins with That One Summer, a short prequel/sampler novella that sets the stage for the future stories. You can get it FREE in my bookshop!
Watch for the series to release throughout 2024 and 2025.
Title: Beach Therapy (Book 1)
Author: Madeleine Jaimes
Genre: Women’s fiction
Publisher: Sand Dune Books
Book Blurb
Beach therapy, they call it, with a twist of lime.
Six women return to the same beach house in Tuckaway Bay, the same week in August, for over twenty years, drinking and laughing their past year’s problems away.
Beach therapy, they call it, with a twist of lime.
Lia contemplates a surprise marriage proposal from her long-term partner—one she doesn’t want. Maggie questions the arrangement she made with her husband years earlier. Julia fights depression after a horrible loss. Wren worries about the legalities of her sister’s business, while her twin, Willow, avoids a medical issue. And Alice? Her life is perfect. Right.
As their troubles escalate and beach week unravels, the women realize no amount of beach therapy will solve their problems this year.
Alice divulges a secret. Wren and Willow disappear. Maggie faces an impossible family situation. Julia confesses her addiction. And Lia wrestles with a twenty-year-old decision when an old summer love shows up at their beach house.
Can beach week, and their friendships, survive? Even with tequila?
Excerpt
Lia lifted her roller bag into the back of her rental vehicle and slammed the hatch—perhaps a little too hard. The conversation she’d had with Ron weighed heavily on her mind, and had throughout the night, but there was no need to take out her frustrations on the vehicle. She hadn’t called him yet and wasn’t sure she wanted to call later, either. She’d contemplate that over the next couple hours of driving time.
Looking up, she faced east and the rising sun. Because of trees and buildings surrounding her hotel, she couldn’t see the freshly sun-kissed ocean, but she could see the streaks of orange, pink, and gray that burst open the morning sky minutes earlier.
“Tomorrow morning you can watch the sun pop up on the deck, coffee in hand. Perhaps with a shot of Bailey’s.”
Sighing, she rounded the vehicle to the driver’s side and got in. She’d not slept well and figured she might as well get moving. Besides, her toes were twitchy for sand, and she’d avoid the heavier traffic.
She hoped.
Crossing the Wright Memorial Bridge to the barrier islands could sometimes mean delays that time of year and on a Saturday. But since she was starting early, perhaps she’d buy her some wiggle room to stop at one of the produce markets along the way.
Her brain skittered over the conversation with Ron. Had she been mean to him? She hadn’t meant to be. He was a good man and he’d been there for her and Belle, supported them at every turn. He cared for her, she knew that. But the thought of marriage turned her guts inside out—she couldn’t pinpoint why she’d have that type of physical reaction.
Her thoughts flitted back to another proposal, a lifetime ago, when she’d run away then, too. Though a couple of decades had passed, she still felt the ache in her heart at the anguish she’d caused Zach—she never really got over the hollowness in the pit of her gut that landed there the day she left Tuckaway Bay.
Thinking about it, the twinge returned.
She’d had to force herself not to look back over the years—looking back was painful for so very long.
Eventually, she grew past it, met Grant, and fell in love again.
The thing with Ron would turn out all right, too.
One way or another.
She didn’t oppose marriage. Her marriage to Grant had not been bad—they’d just grown in different ways and needed to separate to keep growing. Grant was a good man too, and he provided generously for Belle, and for her, in the early days after the divorce. They remained good friends and got along fine. In fact, they were probably better friends than they were lovers and life partners, back then.
Ron was a good friend, too. Maybe there was something to that? He’d been her friend long before they’d dated. They’d met at a dinner party when she and Grant were still married—Ron had done some legal consulting for Grant’s firm, and subsequently Lia had hired him to review contracts in the early days of her work for the museum. They didn’t start dating until long after Grant had moved to Seattle and the dust had settled on her divorce. There was something easy about their relationship, she recalled, even in the beginning.
Their rapport was warm and comforting, safe and secure. Like Monday meatloaf. Isn’t that the way a relationship is supposed to feel? Safe and secure? Predictable?
Lia’s brain stopped flicking and stilled.
No. Meatloaf was fine, and reliable, and fulfilling—but a steady diet of meatloaf gets boring.
Maybe what she wanted, needed, occasionally, was beef. Not ground up, reliable hamburger meat with onions. Perhaps she needed the raw, uncut, full chunk of beef. With expensive blue-cheese crumbles. At other times, with horseradish sauce.
Steak. Not any steak, but a variety of steaks, on a regular basis. Well-seasoned, with grill marks, charred on the outside, and medium rare inside. Or some days, Steak au Poivre, with crushed peppercorns and a creamy herb sauce. Or on special occasions a filet with garlic cilantro butter. And occasionally, when feeling super fancy, prime rib with a juicy layer of fat and a side of red wine au jus.
Not that she wanted a variety of men coming and going—she didn’t—but perhaps she needed someone who provided her with a bit more than the same-old, same-old existence, day after day. To spice up the action occasionally? Put some zip into their lives?
Relationships aren’t supposed to feel only like meatloaf. Right? There should be sparks. Excitement. Urgency. Hot nights in sweaty sheets. The reckless beating of hearts. Risky naked sex on the deck.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever had that. Had she?
Well, perhaps. Of course she had. Long ago.
Shaking herself, Lia glanced at the time and returned her focus to her driving. Goodness, nearly an hour had passed with her daydreaming. A fluttering flag off the side of the road caught her attention, and she noticed the first signs of the markets coming up. Time to pull over and stretch her legs and get some fruit for the week.
She parked at Moore’s Seaside Stand, her usual stopping point, and picked up her cell phone. Quickly, she texted Alice.
Lia: I’m a few miles from the bridge. Stopping for fruit.
Alice: Great! Limes, please?
Lia: Of course. Any other requests?
Alice: Be safe! Oh, grapes?
Lia: On my list too. See you soon.
Alice: [heart emoji]
Alice: Can’t wait to see you.
Lia: Same. In need of immediate and sustained beach therapy.
Alice: [frown emoji] You okay?
Lia: I will be. Talk soon.
Alice: [thumbs up emoji]
Settling the phone in her lap, Lia glanced off to the growing crowd in the parking lot. “This fruit isn’t going to buy itself,” she muttered. “Get to it, Lia. Onward.”
She was one step closer to her happy place.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub)
Author Direct: https://maddiejamesbooks.com/products/beach-therapy
Universal: https://books2read.com/beach-therapy
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Madeleine_Jaimes_Beach_Therapy?id=XXf9EAAAQBAJ
Author Biography
Madeleine Jaimes writes emotional upmarket women’s fiction, exploring the real-life, complicated issues of women and their relationships through story. Learn more at www.maddiejamesbooks.com
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Title: The Space in Between: Julia’s Story (Book 2)
Author: Madeleine Jaimes
Genre: Women’s fiction
Publisher: Sand Dune Books
Book Blurb
How long will she stay in that space in between?
The day Julia Salinger admits to her girlfriends she has a drinking problem, she vows to do something about it. Spending time in a recovery center helps. So does attending AA meetings and therapy. But the thing that saves her, day after day, is fixing breakfast for strangers.
It’s routine. It gets her out of bed every morning.
While she and her husband, Mark, had dreams of operating their Old Louisville B&B together, her drinking put an end to that dream—and their marriage. And while Mark still shares in the business venture, the running of the inn is Julia’s responsibility.
And all goes well, until it doesn’t.
Despite therapy, Julia still wrestles with the cause of her drinking—her difficulty coping with the loss of their stillborn child, months of bourbon binges covering up her grief. But now that she’s sober, grief surfaces in other ways.
Her father pressures her to return to the family law firm. A friend from AA dies of an overdose. She hears a baby crying in the attic and is certain her Victorian era home is haunted. She craves the sweet oaky taste of bourbon and caves to a night of binge drinking. She doesn’t get up to fix breakfast the next morning.
Mark gives her an ultimatum—get her act together or he’s taking over the B&B.
Julia decides her best therapy is the beach and heads to Tuckaway Bay for solace, healing, and her girlfriends. A secluded cottage at the end of the Sea Glass Inn Resort becomes her sanctuary, where she lets very few people into her life for weeks—except for the older man who fishes in front of her cottage every day.
Excerpt
92 days sober
“Julia, we need to make a decision.”
Shoving a tray of cookies into the top oven, she set the timer, checked the temperature in the lower oven, and side-glanced at Mark. Why the shit was he bugging her about this now? “Mark, I have a thousand things to do today. Can we talk about this later?”
Returning to the kitchen island, she wiped her hands on a dishtowel then tossed it aside. Puffs of flour wafted into the air. Stacking measuring cups and spoons, a rubber spatula, and the rolling pin into a large mixing bowl, she carried it all to the opposite counter and set it in the sink.
Mark followed her. “We really need to figure out some things, Julia. The separation agreement, the business partnership and what that looks like going forward, and more.”
“Not now. Not today.” She ran a steam of water into the mixing bowl.
“I know this is a busy weekend.”
She whirled. “Busy? Mark, the grand opening is in two days. The open house is in less than forty-eight hours—two days before Christmas. All the rooms and suites are booked for New Year’s weekend. There are still cookies and cakes to bake, pastries to fill, beds to make and rooms to decorate. Plus, Pamela’s kid is sick and she’s not sure she can help at all, let alone be here on Sunday.”
“For the open house?”
Turning, she met Mark’s gaze and sighed. “Yes. For the open house.”
“I’ll work it with you.”
Shit. No.
“That’s not necessary.” She turned back to the island, yanking the flour container toward her, and pulling down another set of mixing bowls from the cupboard to her right. “I can handle this.”
He didn’t say anything, but his gaze fell heavy on her—she could practically feel the stifling weight of it. She always knew when he was staring at her, or assessing her. Probably because they’d lived most of their lives together.
“What?” She looked at him.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
“Oh,” she huffed, “I most certainly do. That’s what I do so well—be alone, right?—isn’t that what you told me a few months ago?”
He grimaced. She’d intentionally hit a nerve.
“Well?”
“Touché.”
She opened another bag of flour and emptied it into the cannister. “I don’t need your help, Mark. I’m fine.”
“Should I remind you that we agreed I’d still have a stake in the B&B? I’ve invested time and money, and even though I know you don’t want me underfoot, I can still help. This is only one of the reasons why we need to work out that partnership agreement.”
With a sigh, she looked up at him. “Fine. I’ll talk with Craig Paulson next time I’m downtown. He’s good with business contracts and partnerships.”
He nodded. “Great. If you can get that rolling, then let’s talk about therapy.”
“I’m already going to therapy. You know that.”
“I’m talking about us, not you.”
She measured out two cups of flour and poured them into the large mixing bowl. “Mark, there is no us.”
“Put the measuring cups down, Julia. Look at me.”
After a moment, she did, turning. “What?”
He stared into her eyes. “There’s been an us for over twenty-five years. I’ve said it before, and I will continue to say it. I don’t know how to do life with no ‘us.’ I know you are in therapy to deal with all that’s happened the past couple of years—but I also want couples therapy—for us.”
“We’re not getting back together, Mark.”
“The divorce papers are still not signed.”
“And who’s signature is missing?”
“Mine, of course. I can’t bring myself yet. Then there must be a reason.”
She glanced off, staring at the mess she’d made with the cookies on the island. Flour everywhere. Sugar sprinkles, too. Open jars of spices and a bowl full of cracked eggshells. Had she made the same kind of mess of her life? Their lives?
It wasn’t all her fault. Was it?
With a sigh, she lifted her gaze. “One condition.” Hells bells, it was Christmas. She could give him that, couldn’t she?
“Anything.”
She made eye contact. Oh, how she had loved doing that when they were younger. Gazing into his brown eyes. They were just kids but didn’t know it. That was then.
This was now.
“We do this so we can learn how to live without each other, Mark. Not to get back together. That ship has sailed.”
“Has it?”
“God, you’re relentless.” She dug the scoop into the sugar cannister. “We need to learn how to be friends, and evidently, business partners. Let’s just do that.”
“Before we can become lovers again?”
She turned away, dismissing him.
He rounded the island. “Sorry. I’m dropping that. I’ll take friends.”
She lifted her gaze and took in his sincere expression. For a moment, her heart ached for him, for all they’d been through. She supposed she owed him couple’s therapy.
“If you’re free on Sunday, and even tomorrow, I could use your help.” Bill would be happy with her for that concession—one of her biggest problems with battling alcoholism was reaching out for help. She wondered what Melinda, her therapist, would say about it all.
A slight grin spread across his face. “You can count on me.”
The thing was, even after all the shit she’d put him through, she knew that she could.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub)
Author Direct: https://maddiejamesbooks.com/products/the-space-in-between
Universal: https://books2read.com/the-space-in-between
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-space-in-between-madeleine-jaimes/1146057066?ean=9781622375646
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Madeleine_Jaimes_The_Space_in_Between?id=yXn9EAAAQBAJ
Title: The Christmas Storm
Author: Madeleine Jaimes
Genre: Women’s Fiction
Publisher: Sand Dune Books
Book Blurb:
They said it would be a quiet Christmas at the beach.
When a Nor’easter sweeps into the coastal town of Tuckaway Bay on Christmas Eve, the residents and guests of Sea Glass Inn prepare to hunker down and weather the storm. But which is worse—the storm raging outside, or the one brewing inside the inn?
****
Having survived their first year of running Sea Glass Inn—and a year of marriage—Zach and Lia Allen decide to celebrate the holidays by inviting their friends back to Tuckaway Bay for the Christmas holiday weekend.
Wait. Correction.
Zach reluctantly agrees. He really wants a quiet Christmas alone with Lia.
Of course, there is plenty of room at the inn for Lia’s girlfriends—even though half of the rooms are closed down for deep cleaning and painting—but what about the children and significant others? Not to mention Zach’s friends from New Hampshire who crash the inn after the Nor’easter cancels their winter fishing expedition.
As if space is the only issue…
Is the resort large enough to handle fluctuating family dynamics, teenage angst, pregnancy hormones, and perimenopausal women? Can Sea Glass Inn, and its guests, survive the mood swings and hot flashes?
Fa-la-la-la-la. Let the reindeer games begin!
Excerpt
Belle intentionally waited until after one o’clock that afternoon to grab lunch from the Sandcastle. She was hoping to avoid Chad, in case he was there.
Not that he was so annoying she couldn’t get past it—she could, she supposed. What was so annoying was how he’d made her flush—and hopefully not physically blush—when he was standing by her desk eyeing her.
She couldn’t deny he was a good-looking guy. Attractive. He was already tan, and it was only mid-May. His sun bleached hair and dark green eyes were an interesting combination. He looked like the kind of guy who spent a lot of time outdoors.
Earlier, it was almost as though his stare had penetrated through to her pounding heart.
So avoiding him at all costs was a good thing.
Canoodling with the guests was a strict rule of Zach’s—for all staff and employees—and she would not break it. Not that rule or any other rule. She respected Zach’s wishes, and her mother’s, immensely. Plus, she didn’t want to risk losing the job she loved so much.
A housekeeper had gotten fired last month for doing the naughty with a guest.
“Belle!” Her friend, Jenn, one of the wait staff, waved her over. “I just cleaned a table by the window if you want it. What can I get for you?”
Belle joined her. “I’ll just get something to go. BLT and chips, please? Oh, and a diet soda.”
“Gotcha. Have a seat if you want, and I’ll get your order in.”
Sitting at the end of the counter, Belle risked a glance about the restaurant. It was pretty full still, but she didn’t see Chad. Immediately, she let go of the breath that she’d obviously been holding for a while. Her chest relaxed with the released breath.
He was cute. And, even though intrigued by his devil-may-care ways, that was also an issue for her. She preferred stable, grounded men. Besides, he’d be gone by Monday. No good ever came from a weekend hookup. Right? That was not her style.
Jenn returned and placed a to-go cup of her diet soft drink in front of her. “Still on for tonight?”
She nodded, reaching for a straw and peeling off the paper. “Yes! Cammie still coming?”
“No.” Jenn shook her head and frowned. “I just got a text. She’s back with Marcus so they are going out.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “Those two. They need to either tie the knot or let it go.”
“I know.”
A couple entered the restaurant and Jenn glanced their way. “I need to seat these people and check my tables. Melissa said she’ll bring out your sandwich. In case I don’t catch you again, I’ll meet you out by the Party Pier at nine.”
“Okay! Bye.”
Melissa, the kitchen manager, came with the to-go order quickly and Belle headed back to her desk. She had tons of work—hopefully she could concentrate on it. Fortunately, the afternoon flew, and later that evening, she drove to the sound side pier to meet Jenn.
She glanced curiously at Bojo’s as she passed the restaurant, which was a few blocks down from Tri-B and the pier.
The Party Pier was actually a dock with a large gazebo bar that jutted out into a shallow part of the bay, on the backside of the Bay Beach Bistro restaurant—or the Tri-B as it was known locally. The pier was a favorite partying spot with the local college age crowd. Since it was on the sound side of the island, not a lot of vacationers came over—which was fine with the locals.
The Tri-B was also a great seafood restaurant, but she had intentionally not told Chad about it because, for one, it also catered heavily to locals, and two, she knew she’d be there tonight. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was chasing after him, or something.
Because she definitely wasn’t.
Not by a long shot.
“Belle!”
She spotted Jenn waving across the parking lot. She hugged her when they drew closer and linked arms as they slipped down the dock and into the gazebo bar. Before she knew it, she was on her second Island Mojito, and she and Jenn were laughing and dancing to an indie rock band from Richmond.
When the music stopped, she took a minute to catch her breath and told Jenn she was heading for another drink.
“That guy is staring at you,” Jenn told her.
“What?” She was a little tipsy and still out of breath from dancing.
“That guy by the exit. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he stepped into the gazebo.”
Belle turned and squinted. It was dark, of course, and there were strobe lights blinking and pulsing around them, and her brain was slightly fuzzy… But after a moment, her vision cleared, and she got a good look at him.
Mostly because he was walking steadily toward her.
“Shit.” She grasped Jenn’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“Hell no!” Jenn removed her hand and pushed her toward the guy. “He’s a cutie.”
He sauntered their way and stopped before Belle, looking down at her with a crooked, one-corner-of-his-mouth-turned-up grin that made her blood burn almost down to her toes.
Hell. Who was she kidding? Her toes were practically curling with sizzle.
“Well. Belle Mitchell. As I live and breathe.”
She nodded. “Chad.”
“You know my name.”
“I have ways.”
He put his hand out. “Dance?”
She gave a quick glance at Jenn, who nodded back urgently, then again at Chad. “Oh, what the hell.” She grasped his hand. “See if you can keep up with me.”
The annoying Chad grabbed her hand, tugged her into his arms—and then totally and completely swept Belle Mitchell off her feet.
Buy Links (including Goodreads and BookBub)
Author Direct: https://maddiejamesbooks.com/products/the-christmas-storm
Universal: https://books2read.com/the-christmas-storm
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-christmas-storm-madeleine-jaimes/1146212037?ean=2940179926597
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Madeleine_Jaimes_The_Christmas_Storm?id=28ssEQAAQBAJ
Special Giveaway:
Check out my prequel/sampler for Free at all Retailers!
That One Summer. https://books2read.com/thatonesummer