🍯🌺 GASP! A clean novella series? Has your favorite spicy author lost her mind?
Published 3 days ago • 7 min read
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Hey there, gorgeous human who likes my emails. (I hope.)
You know that moment when you're deep in writing a steamy scene between a grumpy hockey god and a sunny PR maven, and suddenly your brain says, "But what about a SWEET small-town romance with precisely ZERO spice"?
No? Just me having a creative identity crisis? Fantastic.
So here I am, typing with one hand while my other is firmly planted on my hip in a "who even am I anymore?" pose that my dogs find deeply concerning.
They've been giving me those judgmental side-eyes all week—you know, the ones that clearly say, "We preferred when your characters were getting naked, the typing was faster and the treats came more frequently."
Sorry doods, but I must disappoint. Da, da, da, DUM! Now presenting...
🌹 COVER REVEAL: Extra Muffin 🌹
That's right, I'm branching out! (Sort of.)
Introducing the first in my sweet and CLEAN novella series, Sweetsville Sweethearts: The Lucky Bench Collection by, you guessed it... my small-town lovin', alter ego Luna Rose.
She's been getting a little antsy on when I would let her have another story, and since Seashell Cove number 3 is still in the works, we decided to dip our toes into some cleaner waters.
And by we I mean me.
Us.
Whatever.
Anyhoo.
The long and short of it is, when Max from Grumpfest gets a little too alpha, I've been sneaking in some time to write these Hallmark-vibed shorties.
Think small town charm, a weirdly Lucky Bench,and warm, fuzzy romance that stops at longing glances and maybe—gasp—hand-holding.
Okay, and perhaps a kiss, but really, only at the end.
It's all very chaste and above board.
Extra Muffin Blurb:
When a grumpy city architect meets a cheerful small-town baker, the last thing he expects is to become her most loyal customer. Poppy Miller can read anyone by their pastry preferences—except the mysterious Noah Westfield, who claims he doesn't even like sweets.
Yet every morning, he's there for his "extra muffin." As their worlds collide in charming Sweetsville, they'll discover that sometimes the most unexpected ingredients make the perfect recipe for love.
The first two novellas are almost ready, and I'll be keeping them in Kindle Unlimited for three months before potentially taking them wide. Because much like my dating strategy many moons ago, I like to test the waters before fully committing. Unless they fail abysmally in KU, then all bets are off.
GRUMPFEST KICKSTARTER UPDATE
The Grumpfest Kickstarter is coming together faster than Max can scowl at an opposing player! (Which, if you've read my WIP snippets, you know is FAST.)
I've been researching the best rewards, playing with pricing tiers, and generally trying to figure out how to explain to Mr. Mav why I need to order 300 hockey puck-shaped stress balls.
He's not on board with that one, FYI.
Our conversation went something like this:
Mr. Mav: "So you're selling... hockey books?" ​Me: "Yes! With grumpy players who fall in love!" ​Mr. Mav: "And people need... rubber hockey pucks... to read these books?" ​Me: "They're stress balls for when the sexual tension gets too much." ​Mr. Mav:long silence "I'm going to go build something in the garage."
The pre-launch page is up and the more followers I can get to smash that NOTIFY ME ON LAUNCH button, the more Kickstarter shows it off, so do your girl a solid!
SNEAK PEEK: Extra muffin
And since you've been so patient with my genre-hopping shenanigans, here's a tiny teaser from the first Sweetsville Sweethearts Lucky Bench Collection:
The first rule of baking is simple: follow the recipe. My first rule of life was even simpler: there's always room for improvisation. Kind of like how dating profiles claimed to be accurate while conveniently forgetting to mention weird collections of vintage dental tools or an unhealthy obsession with their mother.
"Good morning, Mrs. Belmont! Your cinnamon rolls are just coming out of the oven. Three minutes!" I called over the cheerful ding of the door chime as my first customer of the day shuffled in at precisely 5:57 AM. The woman had a punctuality that would make Swiss watchmakers weep with envy.
Mrs. Belmont—eighty-two years young and rocking various shades of lavender like it was her personal brand—nodded approvingly. "Right on schedule, Poppy dear. Edmund will be pleased."
Edmund had been dead for twelve years, but Mrs. Belmont still bought his favorite cinnamon rolls every Tuesday. Some relationships really did transcend the whole "till death do us part" thing. Meanwhile, I couldn't even get a text back from guys who swore they felt a "real connection."
Divine Pastry had been open since 5:30, though our official hours began at 6:00. In Sweetsville, Vermont, bakery time operated differently than normal time. It was like how "Netflix for an hour" somehow became four hours and suddenly it was 2 AM and you were watching documentaries about cults and had eaten an entire pint of ice cream.
I wiped flour-covered hands on my apron—a vintage-inspired cherry print that meshed gloriously with my messy blonde curls in what I called "fashion disaster chic"—and pulled the tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven. The scent of cinnamon, butter, and brown sugar filled the already fragrant air of the small bakery. If heaven had a smell, it would be this. Or maybe clean laundry. Or both.
"They're picture perfect today, Mrs. Belmont. I added a touch more cinnamon, just how Edmund liked them." The truth was Edmund preferred less cinnamon according to my grandmother's notes, but Mrs. Belmont's taste buds had changed over the years. She now preferred them spicier but credited her late husband's good taste.
Rule two of running a small-town bakery: the customer was always right, especially when they were wrong in the sweetest possible way. Kind of like dating, now that I thought about it.
Except with pastries, there was at least a guaranteed sweet ending...
QUICK UPDATES FROM THE TRENCHES
​Booking signing in Tampa is coming up FAST (July), and I'm ordering books now. Can't WAIT, hope you can make it out!
I'm looking for a couple beta readers who can give me some quick feedback on the first Sweetsville novella. If you're interested in some G-rated romance and can provide thoughtful feedback faster than Max can say "sunshine," hit reply and let me know!​
For the next 10 days, I'll be dog-sitting my grandood. If future newsletters contain more typos than usual, it's because I'm typing with one hand while preventing a tiny furry tornado from destroying my house with the other. Though to be fair, that's not much different from my normal writing setup.
All the Sweetsville novellas will eventually be available in my little Bees and Blooms bookstore, for those of you who like to buy direct from your favorite authors. Paperbacks coming very soon, I'm a one-woman show! (Just know that I see you, book sniffer, and I respect your paper addiction).
As a Clifton Strengths #7 Ideation person, my brain is basically a popcorn machine of story and character ideas. I'd apologize for bouncing between ex-SEALS, grumpy hockey gods, and sweet small-town romances, but honestly? This creative whiplash is keeping me sane while Max and Lily work out their incredibly slow journey to admitting their feelings, and Sean and Jade bicker like mortal enemies that kinda like each other.
Until next time,
P.S. Drop a reply and tell me: Are you Team "Give Me All The Spice" or Team "Sometimes I Need A Hallmark Palate Cleanser"? Or are you like me—Team "Depends On My Mood And How Many Glasses Of Wine I've Had"?
P.S.S. Missed previous editions of this newsletter? Find them here.​
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Grumpfest
By Honey Mavryck
He’s the grump with a broken past. She’s the sunshine that might just save him—if his baggage doesn't destroy them first.
I don’t do smiles. I don’t do team bonding, calendar shoots, or charity events. I play hockey. I stay out of the spotlight. After what happened, I learned one thing: never get close enough to get burned.
“I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else.”
— The Wedding Date
Psst! Okay, so you made it to the end, but... could you see any of the pretty pictures?
If not, you'll need to add my email, author@honeymavryck.com to your safe sender/contact list. If that doesn't work, hit reply and we'll troubleshoot together!
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