What the Ocean Brings by Tonya Ulynn Brown

What the Ocean Brings

by Tonya Ulynn Brown

Publication Date: June 4th, 2026

Publisher: Black Rose Writing

Pages: 393

Genre: Historical Romance

Quebec, Canada, 1847. 

While trying to escape the Potato Famine, shipwrecked Irish immigrant Breanna Clarey awakens injured and alone on an unfamiliar beach. To make matters worse, she has been separated from her family, and her friend, Crow, is lying dead at her feet. But when Dawson Roberts, a reclusive fisherman with a guarded past and big dreams for his future, finds Breanna, he puts his plans on hold to offer her shelter and help find her family.

But life for an Irish immigrant isn't easy. Facing a deadly quarantine station, dangerous immigration officials, and grief over her missing family, Breanna struggles to exert her independence and navigate her new world. While Breanna confronts an unknown future, Dawson is plagued by a painful past. They each must determine their own course, even if it means ignoring the pull they have on each other.

When the future takes an unexpected turn, only the ocean that has brought them so much devastation can help them find their way back to where they belong.

Excerpt

“Sir, we are looking for a family that may have been brought here about three weeks ago. It is the Clarey family. They arrived, rather abruptly, from Sligo, Ireland, and crashed upon the shore at Gaspé. They would be a family of five, a father, mother, and three daughters.” 

The doctor rubbed his chin in thought. “I do recall an unfortunate shipwreck, but from what I’ve heard, there were very few survivors. A small group of Irish was brought in the most unconventional way a few weeks ago. They arrived with no luggage and barely a stitch of clothing about them. The passengers were utterly destitute and came with not a single personal item to their name. Seemed all possessions had been lost at sea. But I’m not sure if that is the same group or if they came from another ship.” 

“It has to be them.” Breanna couldn’t contain the raw emotion that made her voice tremble. She turned to Dawson, pleading. “It has to be them,” she said again. She clung desperately to Dawson’s sleeve, feeling as if her legs would no longer hold her. The doctor looked at her curiously.  

“Doc, what of the Clarey family? Does the name ring a bell?” 

“Sir, forgive me, but we have many, many immigrants coming to the island every week. I do not know all their names. I know, it is not good bedside manner, but unfortunately, there are just too many to give them all the attention that they deserve.” 

Breanna watched as the doctor shifted to another foot, and then back again. He looked tired, and she felt sorry for the little man and the burden that was his to bear. 

“Do you have a record keeper here? One that takes the names of every immigrant that comes through the island?” 

“Yes…” the doctor said hesitantly. “But unfortunately, he too has fallen ill with a fever. We are doing the best we can, but with dozens of deaths a day, and even more immigrants coming every week, we are slow at keeping records of those coming and going.” 

“Dozens of deaths daily?” Breanna gasped. “Sir, is it truly that devastating?” 

“I’m afraid so, miss. We’ve buried five already this morning.” He looked to Dawson for sympathy, then back to Breanna. 

“We have a list of names. Can we leave this list with you to have someone contact us as soon as you find out any information about them?” He handed the doctor the slip of paper that Breanna had given to him. 

“I would be more than happy to help you out, sir—miss.” He nodded at Breanna to include her. “It may be a few days before I can track down the information that you wish to find. Will you be staying in Montmagny while you wait?” 

Dawson looked at Breanna. She knew he could not afford to miss any more days of fishing than what he had already planned for. She stared back at him, unable to reassure him that she understood.

“I’m afraid we will have to return to Gaspé. But if you could write to us as soon as you find them, we would greatly appreciate it.” 

“Ahh, you assume I will find them,” the doctor said, pulling a small pencil out of his pocket. But when he saw the hurt expression on Breanna’s face, he softened his tone. “My apologies, but you must keep in mind that if this family that you seek was here and has been released, we have no way of knowing where they may have chosen to settle down. Many families go on to Quebec City, but I can make no guarantees.” 

“We understand,” Dawson assured him, taking the paper and the pencil the doctor handed him. He quickly wrote his name and address on the paper, then gave it back to the doctor.  

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” the doctor said as he tucked the folded paper into his coat pocket. “As you can imagine, we have a very busy day ahead of us.” He nodded to the boats docked behind them. “Remember us on Grosse Île, when you say your prayers tonight, miss,” he requested. 

Breanna watched as the doctor turned and walked away. All hope slipped from her as each step he took carved a hollow place in her chest. Was that it? Was he going to walk away from them and leave her standing there in a world he had just turned upside down? A gust of cold wind swept over her, but it wasn’t the breeze of a Canadian spring. She shivered as the realization dawned on her that if they left now, her family might be lost to her forever. “Dawson, that has to be them.” She hiccupped as a painful sob escaped her lips. “They have to be here. We mustn’t leave.” Alarm clawed at her throat, making it hard to breathe. She took three steps forward before Dawson could catch her. He grabbed her around the waist to stop her. “Dawson, please,” she cried, panic seizing her. She kicked her legs, her body stiff in his strong arms. Her eyes burned with hot, salty tears, and she gasped, dragging ragged breaths into her clenching lungs.  

“Hush now, it’s all right,” Dawson said softly into her ear, but she would not be appeased. She cried out once more with an unintelligible sound, and her mouth gaped open with more silent cries. Her body shook with the anguish she could not put into words. When she finally stopped thrashing, he lowered her slowly to her feet. 

“Dawson,” she gasped. Dawson turned Breanna toward him, and she pressed her face against his chest. He stroked her hair with one hand as he wrapped his other arm around her waist once more. “It has to be them,” she whispered as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. When her breathing calmed and her panic subsided, she pulled away from him and looked up into his face. 

Dawson cupped her cheeks in his hands and swiped a tear away with his thumb. With a calm, soothing voice, he said, “Breanna, they might be passengers from the Carricks, but that doesn’t mean they’re your family.”

His words hit her as if he had slapped her. The disappointment from the doctor’s news, coupled with the nervous anticipation she had carried with her for weeks now, came crashing down on her. Breanna sank to the ground, the tears starting all over again. She didn’t know where to go from here.  

Dawson knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her. Pulling Breanna into him, he ran a hand over her head and smoothed her hair. He let her cry for several more minutes until a sailor’s call told them the ferry would be leaving soon.

“Come. We have done all we could do here. We will go home and wait for news from Doctor Douglas and figure out what our next step will be.”

Dawson lifted Breanna to her feet. She clung to him, feeling as though her legs were incapable of carrying her. She was thankful he was there, that Dawson hadn’t allowed her to make the journey alone. 

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Tonya Ulynn Brown

Tonya Ulynn Brown is an award-winning historical romance author who writes emotionally rich tales of ancient castles, treacherous plots, and forbidden love. With a deep passion for the turbulent histories of England and Scotland, she brings the past vividly to life through stories where danger and desire walk hand in hand.

Tonya holds a master’s degree and teaches Reading and Writing at the elementary level. Fueled by iced coffees, beautiful books, and an enduring obsession with Mary, Queen of Scots, she fills her days writing, teaching, and researching the lives of long-dead monarchs and other historical figures.

Most of all, she loves spending time with her husband, two sons, and one very spoiled French bulldog.

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HEROICA: Three women, three centuries, three reckonings Roma Nova by Alison Morton

HEROICA:

Three women, three centuries, three reckonings

Roma Nova

By Alison Morton

Publication Date: May 14th, 2026
Publisher: Pulcheria Press
Pages: 162
Genre: Collection of alternative history short(ish) stories

Even the strongest state is vulnerable to its past.

2020, Roma Nova. Carina Mitela investigates a potential rebellion but discovers the long-buried secret that ignited the attempted uprising links directly to her own powerful family.

1683, Vienna. As Europe struggles against the Ottoman onslaught, Honoria Mitela leads her troops into the desperate battle to save besieged Vienna. The fate of Europe – and of Roma Nova itself – hangs in the balance.

1849, Central Italy. Statia Mitela’s impulsive act saves one life but jeopardises Roma Nova’s very existence and threatens her descendants with public disgrace, financial ruin and permanent exile. 

-----------

Three stories of the women of the Mitela family, descendants of the founders of Roma Nova, bound by blood and courage.

Praise for HEROICA:

“All three stories in this collection deal with honour and the question of being true to oneself, especially if this entails running the risk of coming into conflict with the state and the status quo. All three central women are physically and morally brave, even rash. Their strength of spirit is never in doubt.”
~ Lorna Fergusson, Fictionfire

“For anyone who has read and enjoyed the Roma Nova stories before, this collection of novellas is a must. And if you haven’t, then please start from the beginning with INCEPTIO – you’ll be hooked!”
~ Christina Courtenay, bestselling author of romantic time-travel fiction

Excerpt

Excerpt from the beginning of Revolution?, the first story in the HEROICA collection

Set in the European country of Roma Nova, the last part of the Roman Empire that has survived from the late 4th century into the 21st.. Disquieting news comes from Brancadorum, a sleepy, rural town in the east.

Roma Nova, 2020

‘You are joking!’

‘You think subversive activity threatening Roma Nova is a joke?’ Legate Conradus Mitelus, head of the Praetorian Guard Special Forces, and for good or bad, also my husband, frowned at me. We’d been at a concert the previous night, headlined by Antonia Canora. Her sultry contralto voice and boho appearance, allied with the sheer emotion of her delivery, had made it an outstanding spectacle. I’d felt drained by the end of it. Although I’d drunk a beakerful of the ginger and malt restorative first thing this morning, my head was still fragile. The last thing I could do with was a briefing meeting about the potential overthrow of my country. I know preventing such things was our job as Praetorians, but at that precise moment, I could hardly prevent a yawn from ballooning up my throat.

‘No, of course not,’ I said hastily and glanced at Centurion Marcus Flavius for support. He didn’t show the least flicker of emotion on his face, just polite attention to what the legate was saying. ‘But surely this is just somebody letting off steam,’ I continued. ‘Nobody with half a brain would believe them.’

‘Unfortunately, Captain,’ Conrad said, reminding me of my place in the military hierarchy, ‘a number of brainless idiots appear to demonstrate the opposite.’ 

‘I apologise for my outburst. Sir,’ I added, remembering we were in a formal environment in the PGSF headquarters and that here he was my commanding officer. ‘But I’m shocked to hear such a thing is starting to spread. I’ve read accounts online and in my grandmother’s newspapers, but I thought it was just some crazies spouting lies.’ Apart from being the location of the national Roma Nova Air Force base, Brancadorum was the agricultural back end of nowhere.

Like most Western countries, our little nation allowed free expression as long as it wasn’t hate speech or incitement to racial prejudice or deterioration into a full-blown riot.

‘Subversion comes in many forms. Twisting minds seems to be the flavour of the moment, especially in the east.’ He looked away. The early spring sunshine coming through the armoured glass floor-to-ceiling window made a pale yellow pool on his desk, reflected on the tight lines of his face. The regulation cream walls of his large office were broken up by several bookshelves, some prints and maps and a display cupboard. The little gold eagle I’d bought him at Christie’s on our previous trip to London glistened behind its glass doors with the same early morning light and grim expression.

‘If I may, sir?’ Flavius raised his hand. ‘Captain Mitela is not the only one who’s surprised. I was comparing notes with an air force colleague about the upcoming all-arms training exercise and she expressed the same concern. Apparently, some rabble-rouser in the forum there has been attracting a reasonable crowd – around two hundred or so.’

‘What was he saying?’ 

‘A load of lies, but with tiny germs of truth about archaic systems and Roma Nova’s imperial structure being out of date and undemocratic. He called for a people’s republic.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘There’s always one. But we’re a constitutional monarchy now. I know that in theory Imperatrix Silvia has more power than many rulers, but she still has to work within the Senate and Representatives’ framework. Even the Ancients’ republic eventually became an empire, not the other way round.’

‘That didn’t always go so well,’ Flavius said sourly.

‘But there were some good periods: the pax romana lasted two hundred years.’ I was the optimistic sort. ‘Well, maybe not at the end in the fifth century,’ I added. 

‘Apparently, this rabble-rouser – name of Clodius Novus – has a core group around him,’ the legate read from his screen. ‘And before either of you say it, the name is obviously a pseudonym, trying to hint at a parallel with Publius Clodius Pulcher, the old Republican political mob leader.’

‘He was a nasty piece of work, wasn’t he, sir?’ Flavius said.

‘Yes, a violent manipulator, typical of the gangster type of factionalism in the late Republic. If he hadn’t been killed by his rival Milo, the gods know what he’d have gone on to do.’

‘No sign of a latter-day Milo?’ I asked, furiously trying to remember all the details of the history of that time. 

Conrad rubbed his forehead at  the hairline – a sign he was troubled. And I didn’t think it was about my lack of historical knowledge.

‘No, thank goodness – he was just another thuggish political agitator, after all. Between them and their corrupt practices and constant incitement to riot they made Ancient Rome intolerable. Anyway, that was then. We certainly don’t want a repeat now.’

‘What exactly have these agitators been doing apart from making a few ranty speeches?’ I said.

Conrad consulted his screen for a moment before switching his gaze back to us.

‘He and his group have been digging up dirt of every kind – mostly fabricated – and circulating it as truths the authorities have been hiding from ordinary people,’ he said. ‘According to rumours, the public meetings are becoming more like rallies.’

‘But surely people will see through it?’ I saw his normally serious face wore a more strained expression than usual. 

‘It seems not,’ he replied.

‘Aren’t you going to ask the Brancadorum custodes to intervene?’

‘Ah, this is where it becomes delicate. I contacted Silenus Fornax, a former PGSF guard, who retired to a small farm near Brancadorum, which he bought with his ex-service grant. His children are grown and work here in the city. His wife died a few years ago. He now runs the local branch of the old comrades’ association.’

‘So, an upright citizen!’

Conrad frowned at me. ‘Fornax was a staunch, if dull, long-serving soldier, totally loyal. But I haven’t heard back from him for a couple of days.’

‘No phone call or message, sir?’ Flavius asked.

‘He’s not a fan of technology – he uses a dumb phone when he remembers to charge it.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, I asked him to put out feelers about what was going on in Brancadorum. He’s not the subtlest person, but he knows the area and people. I didn’t want to alert the custodes as it might compromise his investigation, which is informal at best. The other thing is that to our knowledge no law’s been broken. So far, nobody’s filed a complaint. If the scarabs go in heavy-handed, the organisers will screech repression of civil liberties.’ 

‘Then what is our mission?’ I asked.

‘I want you to designate a small team to go to Brancadorum, make contact with Fornax and covertly observe events.’ He tapped on his keyboard and our phones pinged Fornax’s photo – a typical grizzled vet with a steady stare into the camera. ‘I’m also recommissioning the group which counters political movements attempting to undermine Roma Nova. But we need some hard facts. That is the mission, effective immediately.’

‘I’ll put a team together straightaway. Centurion Flavius can lead on this.’ I raised an eyebrow in Flavius’s direction. He nodded.

‘Only a few, maximum three, or it will make these people suspicious.’ He shot a hard look at me. ‘Actually, Carina, go yourself.’

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Alison Morton

Alison Morton writes award-winning thrillers featuring tough but compassionate heroines. Her twelve-book Roma Nova series is set in an imaginary European country where a remnant of the Roman Empire has survived into the 21st century and is ruled by women who face conspiracy, revolution and heartache but use a sharp line in dialogue. 

She blends her fascination for Ancient Rome with six years’ military service and a life of reading crime, historical and thriller fiction. On the way, she collected a BA in modern languages and an MA in history.  

Alison lives in Poitou in France, the home of Mélisende, the heroine of her three contemporary thrillers, Double Identity, Double Pursuit and Double Stakes.

For the latest news, subscribe to her newsletter at https://www.alison-morton.com/newsletter/ and receive 'Welcome to Alison Morton’s Thriller Worlds' as a thank you gift.

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Review of Escape of the Grand Duchess by Susan Appleyard

Escape of the Grand Duchess by Susan Appleyard is a gripping historical novel that shatters the notion that royalty is synonymous with privilege and ease. At its heart is Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, the youngest sister of Tsar Nicholas II—a Romanov who defied a doomed destiny and survived.

Unlike her ill-fated brother and his family, Olga’s story is one of resilience, sacrifice, and daring escape. Trapped in a loveless marriage to a reckless gambler—who harbours secrets of his own—she finds hope in the arms of a dashing army lieutenant. But before she can claim her own happiness, she must first endure the brutal realities of World War I, where she serves as a nurse on the frontlines.

As the Russian Empire teeters on the brink of collapse, the infamous Siberian mystic Rasputin tightens his grip on the imperial court, setting the stage for revolution. With the Bolsheviks seizing power and the Romanovs marked for death, Olga faces an impossible choice: risk everything to stay or flee into the unknown with her true love and their children.

Rich in historical detail and driven by an unforgettable heroine, Escape of the Grand Duchess is a sweeping riches-to-rags tale of survival, love, and the strength it takes to forge a new life in the face of unimaginable upheaval.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ A must-read historical fiction novel based on a true story

I picked up Escape of the Grand Duchess by Susan Appleyard because I’ve always found the Romanovs interesting, but I ended up enjoying it much more than I expected. What I liked most was that Olga never feels like some untouchable royal from a history documentary. She feels like a real woman stuck in a life she didn’t choose.

Even though she’s surrounded by wealth and status, there’s a sadness around her for most of the book. Her marriage is miserable, family duty controls almost everything she does, and then on top of that the whole country is falling apart around them. It’s hard not to feel sorry for her at times.

What really kept me reading though was the atmosphere. There’s this constant feeling that something terrible is coming, and because you already know the history behind the Romanovs, it makes even the quieter moments feel tense.

By the end I felt strangely emotional about Olga and her family, which I honestly wasn’t expecting when I started the book. Definitely worth reading if you enjoy historical fiction that feels personal rather than overly focused on dates and politics.

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Susan Appleyard

Susan was born in England, which is where she learned to love English history, and now lives in Canada in the summer. In winter she and her husband flee the cold for their second home in Mexico. Susan divides her time between writing and her hobby, oil painting, although writing will always be her first love. She was fortunate in having had two books published traditionally. Since joining the ebook crowd, she has published nine books, some of which have won various awards.

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Review of Rescued by the Rakish Lord by Sarah Mallory

 

Rescued by the Rakish Lord

by Sarah Mallory

Publication Date: April 23rd, 2026

Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon

Pages: 276

Genre: Historical Romance

A man of such dubious reputation…

that he was called Devil Blackbourne!

When Lord Deveril Blackbourne meets Selina Wynter, he is intrigued. For she has all the accomplishments of a lady, but the fiery temper and spirit of a tavern maid! Then she is abducted by a dastardly suitor, and Deveril—for all his roguish reputation— can’t stand idly by… 

Lord Deveril is Selina’s least likely rescuer, but when they’re stranded together in a snowstorm and her reputation is at risk, he surprises her with a gallant proposal! Deveril’s no honourable suitor, yet his actions say otherwise…

Just who is the real Devil Blackbourne? Selina’s determined to find out!

⭐⭐⭐⭐ A solid romance read

Rescued by the Rakish Lord follows Selina, a strong-willed young woman who finds herself unexpectedly thrown together with the mysterious and charming Deveril. As danger, secrets, and growing attraction pull them closer, both are forced to confront their pasts and decide whether they’re willing to risk their hearts. It’s a romantic and emotional Regency story filled with tension, chemistry, and plenty of heartfelt moments.

Rescued by the Rakish Lord was a really enjoyable read and one of those books that’s easy to get lost in for a few hours. 

I really liked the chemistry between Selina and Deveril. Their relationship felt natural and wasn’t rushed, which made the romance more satisfying. Selina was easy to root for because she’s sensible and strong without feeling overly perfect, and Deveril had just enough charm and emotional baggage to make him interesting instead of frustrating.

The story kept me engaged the whole way through, although the middle section slowed down a bit at times and I found myself wanting a little more tension near the end. A couple of the side characters could’ve been fleshed out more too.

That said, it was still a warm, entertaining historical romance with characters I genuinely cared about. Definitely worth reading if you like emotional romances with a protective hero and a heroine who can hold her own.

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Sarah Mallory

Sarah Mallory is an award-winning author who has published more than 40 historical romances with Harlequin Mills & Boon. She loves history, especially the Georgian and Regency.

She won the prestigious RoNA Rose Award from the Romantic Novelists Association in 2012 and 2013 and nominated in 2022. She also won the RNA’s Romantic Historical Novel Award in 2024 for The Night She Met the Duke. Sarah also writes romantic historical adventures as Melinda Hammond.

Sarah was born in the West Country but lived for many years on the Yorkshire Pennines, taking inspiration from the wild and rugged moors. Then in 2018 she fell in love with Scotland and ran away to live on the rugged North West Coast, which is proving even more inspiring!

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Some Starry Night by Irene Latham

SOMe Starry Night

By Irene Latham

Publication Date: April 14th, 2026

Publisher: Historium Press

Pages: 264

Genre: Historical Fiction

Under the pale glow of a Parisian spring in 1886, two restless souls move toward the same horizon-unaware that their meeting will ignite a love as luminous and fleeting as the stars themselves.

Vincent van Gogh arrives in Paris with little more than paint-stained hands and an aching determination to create something worthy of the world. Living in the cramped apartment of his brother Theo, he struggles against poverty, doubt, and the relentless pull of his own restless mind.

Across the ocean in Amherst, Emily Dickinson receives news that changes everything. Faced with the nearness of death, the reclusive poet does the unthinkable: she leaves the quiet safety of the Homestead and sails for Paris, determined to taste life before it slips beyond her reach.

When Emily agrees to sit for Vincent's portrait, their worlds collide in a blaze of color, poetry, and dangerous intimacy. Through letters, poems, and whispered confessions, the two artists discover in one another a fierce, unguarded understanding-one that will shape their art, their faith, and the fragile hours they have left.

But love between stars is never simple. As time grows short and darkness gathers, Vincent and Emily must decide whether beauty is meant to last...or simply to burn bright enough to change the night forever.

Some Starry Night is a sweeping, lyrical imagining of the hidden story behind Vincent van Gogh's most iconic painting – an unforgettable tale of love, creativity, and the courage to live fiercely, even in the shadow of the end.

Excerpt

[tree climbing scene]

He threw up his hands. “I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.” He swiped a fallen branch from the ground and flung it back toward the pond. “I only wanted to bring you out here to show you what it means to be an artist. I didn’t ask for this.”

“I didn’t ask for this, either.” She hadn’t come to Paris to see skeletons or climb a tree. Or to meet an artist. “I didn’t ask for you.”

The intensity of his gaze awakened the anaconda in her brain. It uncoiled, undulating in its nest. She hadn’t expected anger from him, nor regret. She opened her mouth to comfort, to explain. To beg him not to leave.

No. She set her jaw. She was done begging men, as she’d begged Thomas to please-please-please read her poems. She was done masterminding and manipulating. It never worked anyway.

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Irene Latham

Irene Latham writes poems and stories from the Purple Horse Poetry Studio & Music Room in Blount County, Alabama. She is the author or co-author of many books for young people, including African Town, winner of the Scott O'Dell Award for Outstanding Historical Fiction.

This is her first novel for adults.

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