Check out these late summer reads from Club Calvi

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Find out more about the books below.
Summer doesn’t officially end for a few more weeks. The CBS New York Book Club has three new paperbacks that you can add to your beach bag, and read through the fall. Two of the novels are romances, the third is a thriller. All are connected to the Tri-State Area by either their plots or their authors.
“The Au Pair Affair” was written by bestselling author Tessa Bailey, a resident of Long Island.
“Elizabeth of East Hampton” by Audrey Bellezza and Emily Harding is a modern retelling of the classic book “Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen.
Author Laura Sims wrote “How Can I Help You” while working part-time as a research librarian in New Jersey.
Read more about the books below, including excerpts.
These books may have adult themes.
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From the publisher: Tallulah is smart, vivacious, and studying to be a marine biologist. She’s also twenty-six and broke. So when Burgess, a battle-scarred hockey veteran and newly single dad, offers her a job as his live-in nanny, she jumps at the opportunity to get paid while living in a super fancy neighborhood and being around Lissa, his cool but introverted tween.
Her tween charge isn’t the only one who could use some help fitting in, though. According to…well, everyone except Burgess, he needs to get back on the dating scene, and adventurous Tallulah is just the girl to show him how. But as boundaries are slowly crossed and Burgess finds himself pulled between his daughter, who wants her parents back together, and his insane chemistry with Tallulah, a huge rift is formed, and Tallulah does the “right” thing—breaks her own heart and walks away.
Though Burgess knows it’s for the best—he’s too jaded, with too much baggage—a chance meeting, and a new push from his daughter, forces him to put everything on the line and fight to prove he learned his lessons well and is worthy of a happily ever after with Tallulah. 
Tessa Bailey lives on Long Island. 
“The Au Pair Affair” by Tessa Bailey (Paperback) $15
From the publisher: It’s a truth universally acknowledged—well, by Elizabeth Bennet anyway—that there’s nothing worse than summer in the Hamptons. She should know: she’s lived out there her whole life. Every June, her hometown on the edge of Long Island is inundated with rich Manhattanites who party until dawn and then disappear by September. And after twenty-five years, Lizzy wants to leave, too.
But after putting her own dreams on hold to help save her family’s failing bakery, she’s still surfing the same beach every morning and waiting for something, anything, to change. She’s not holding her breath though, not even when her sister starts flirting with the hot new bachelor in town, Charlie Pierce, and he introduces Lizzy to his even hotter friend.
Will Darcy is everything Lizzy Bennet is not. Aloof, arrogant…and rich. Of course, he’s never cared about money. In fact, it’s number one on his long list of things that irk him. Number two? His friend Charlie’s insistence on setting him up with his new girlfriend’s sharp-tongued sister. Lizzy Bennet is all wrong for him, from her money-hungry family to her uncanny ability to speak to him as bluntly as he does everyone else. But then maybe that’s why he can’t stop thinking about her.
Lizzy is sure Will hates everybody. He thinks she willfully misunderstands them. Yet, just as they strike an uneasy truce, mistakes threaten Charlie and Jane’s romance, with Will and Lizzy caught in the undertow. Between a hurricane and a hypocritical aunt, a drunken voicemail and a deceptive party promoter, the two must sift through the gossip and lies to protect the happiness of everyone they love—even if it means sacrificing their own. But when the truth also forces them to see each other in an entirely new light, they must swallow their pride to learn that love is a lot like surfing: sometimes the only way to survive is to let yourself fall.
Audrey Bellezza lives in New Jersey. Emily Harding lives in Dallas, Texas.
CLICK HERE to read an excerpt   
“Elizabeth of East Hampton” by Audrey Bellezza and Emily Harding (Paperback) $15
From the publisher: No one knows Margo’s real name. Her colleagues and patrons at a small-town public library know only her middle-aged normalcy, congeniality, and charm. They have no reason to suspect that she is, in fact, a former nurse with a trail of premature deaths in her wake. She has turned a new page, so to speak, and the library is her sanctuary, a place to quell old urges.
That is, at least, until Patricia, a recent graduate and failed novelist, joins the library staff. Patricia quickly notices Margo’s subtly sinister edge, and watches her carefully. When a tragic incident in the library bathroom gives her a hint of Margo’s mysterious past, Patricia can’t resist digging deeper—even as her new fixation becomes all-consuming and sends both women hurtling toward disaster.
Laura Sims lives in New Jersey. 
“How Can I Help You” by Laura Sims (Paperback) $15

Tallulah had never seen blood droplets sail through the air quite so gracefully.
She turned the phone sideways and enlarged the hockey highlight to full screen mode, tapping the volume button in order to hear the commentator’s voice.
Abraham with the vicious elbow to O’Hanlon’s nose. Oh mama. Somebody call the trainer. O’Hanlon just learned the hard way what we’ve known for years. Players risk bones and cartilage when they enter Sir Savage’s house as he’s just proven once again tonight… 
Tallulah exited the video and set her phone down, queasiness rolling in her stomach.
This afternoon, she was scheduled to begin shacking up with the homicidal hockey player from that very SportsCenter highlight. Sir Savage. If the algorithm gods hadn’t creepily recognized her location as Boston and placed that nose crunching clip from last night’s pre-season game in her path, she would already have left the smoothie shop and entered the landmark doorman building across the street to begin her employment as an au pair for his tween daughter. 
She’d agreed to the arrangement months ago. Back when the whole idea hadn’t seemed so unnerving. Now, however, the white, plastic seat in which she’d been parked for over an hour was rapidly making lattice patterns on the backs of her legs. Blenders whirred in her ears. She’d been rendered unable to stand up and cross the road. Which was galling, considering she’d just spent a year in Antarctica studying the migration habits of the Adelie penguin.
A nanny job should be a cakewalk, right?
Thanks to a twist of fate, she’d landed a swanky place to live in Beacon Hill while she earned her master’s in marine biology at Boston University. In return, all she had to do was nanny for an already self-sufficient twelve-year-old girl while her daddy apparently went out and flattened perfectly good noses on the ice.
It was the latter that kept her glued to the uncomfortable chair.
Tallulah reached for the paper cup holding her peanut butter-espresso blast and noticed her hand was trembling oh-so-slightly. She gave herself an impatient eye roll and snatched up the cup, swigging what remained of her smoothie. The guy behind the counter obviously heard the empty vacuum sound coming from her paper straw and gave her the Boston eyebrow. Head cocked, impatient, one brow raised. Like, are you done here or would you like to lick the napkin dispenser, too?
She’d clearly overstayed her welcome at the Joyful Juicer.
Message received, Tallulah stood up, crossed to the trash can and tossed her cup, before returning to the table and gripping the handle of her suitcase. Staring through the picture window of the shop at the ten-story brick building on the other side of the road, her stomach sagged somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. On paper, she didn’t have any reason for the alarm weaving through her ribs.
After all, her best friends, Wells and Josephine, had vouched for the Boston Bearcats team captain, Burgess Abraham, also known as Sir Savage. He didn’t have any criminal history that she could find on the internet. In fact, he was known for being a terror on the ice, but stoic and reasonable once he entered the locker room. As evidenced by the time Tallulah had spent watching post-game interviews with his sweaty black hair plastered to his forehead, his denim blue eyes intense as he considered every question like the answer was deeply important. 
And no, she hadn’t purposefully searched for shirtless interviews, thank you very much.
They’d come up as a suggested Google search. She couldn’t simply ignore that kind of search engine divine providence. It would be irresponsible. Nor could she ignore shoulders thick enough with muscle to seat a couple of baby walruses—and those suckers had heft. 
But right now, when she was an hour late to arrive at Burgess’s penthouse to view her new living space and go over the particulars of their arrangement, all she could see was that brutal elbow slicing through the air, the accompanying expression of malice.
Like a peek inside some hidden part of the man?
Accepting this job had seemed like a great idea when she’d met Burgess at that golf tournament in California last summer. But she shouldn’t have been so impulsive when it came to something so huge, like living with a man who she barely knew. One who could have all manner of issues lurking under the surface. In her experience, men could be mild mannered, charming even, on the surface. Easy going, friendly.
They could also be dormant volcanos waiting for the right moment to erupt. 
Ignoring the sigh from dude behind the counter, Tallulah sat back down.
Moving in with this near-stranger was a bad idea. An error in judgment.
Thankfully, she hadn’t moved in yet. If she was going to change her mind, it had to be now. Before she wasted valuable time Burgess could be using to find a new au pair. She could check into a hotel tonight and use tomorrow to view apartment-share opportunities. With other women. The apartments probably—no, definitely—wouldn’t be in neighborhoods as nice as this, nor would they be a penthouse, but at least she’d be able to sleep at night.
Decision made, Tallulah slipped the phone out of the front pocket of her windbreaker and prepared to call the Bearcats defenseman. Being so unprofessional about this rankled. She should break their deal in person. But what if he reacted badly? Got upset?
A phone call was better. Safer.
Before Tallulah could dial, a bell tinkled above the door.
And Burgess Abraham himself entered the smoothie shop.
Holy s***, she’d forgotten how…hulking he was. Six-three, give or take an inch. Broad as a barn. And grizzled. Sir Savage had entered the second half of his thirties and he already had a hint of salt and pepper buffering in his black beard, his temples. He walked with leashed confidence. It wasn’t the stride of a man who needed to be noticed. Or feared. It was a one hand in his pocket, the other loose at his side, eyes forward, unhurried but goal-oriented gait. He didn’t bother stopping at the register to order, just signal the employee with a salute.
“Your usual, Savage?” The smoothie guy got working, tossing frozen fruit into the clear blender, adding fruit juice and three heaping scoops of protein powder. “I live in hope that someday you’ll come in and try something new.”
“I like what I like,” Burgess muttered, frowning at the screen of his phone.
Was he checking to see if she’d called?
Probably. She was now sixty-seven minutes late.
With an inward wince, Tallulah tapped call and held the phone to her ear. When the device started to buzz in Burgess’s hand, a ripple went through his back. He dropped the phone to his side and looked straight ahead for a moment, then back at the phone, coughing. Rolling a shoulder. She could only see his profile, but his lips moved slightly like he was practicing his greeting—and that’s when Tallulah remembered why she’d agreed to take the live-in au pair job with someone she barely knew.
Time had obviously blurred the memory of Burgess.
There was something about his energy that read…safe.
Very safe.
Protective.
Along with her friends’ faith in Burgess, she’d trusted her gut.
It was going to be a shame to break the agreement. It was for the best, though. There was no guarantee he’d be civil off the ice one hundred percent of the time. Wells and Josephine might wholeheartedly believe in Burgess’s good character, but Tallulah had done the same with people throughout her life and gotten burned when their true selves were revealed.
You just never knew.
Tallulah watched as Burgess tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear, plugging the opposite one with his finger to drown out the screaming blender. 
“Hello,” he said, staring intently at the floor. “Tallulah.”
Best to ignore that hot shiver that trekked up her inner thighs at the basement baritone version of her name. Blame it on her recent lack of anything resembling a sex life.
Watching penguins mate didn’t count.
“Hi Burgess,” she responded, waiting for him to register the blender sounds in the background of her call, too. When he did, his gaze zipped to where Tallulah sat, a grunt brushing up against her ear drum.
They both ended the call, looking at each other across the smoothie shop. 
Excerpted from THE AU PAIR AFFAIR by Tessa Bailey. Copyright © 2024 by Tessa Bailey. Published by Avon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Excerpted by permission of the publisher.
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Chapter 6
It was a truth universally acknowledged that Donato Lodge was awful. But that was part of the appeal. From the lingering smell of room temperature beer to the stained burgundy carpet only partially hidden by the dim overhead lights, it was the unassuming second home for much of East Hampton.
The Bennet sisters arrived through the narrow front hallway just before nine. Framed photos of all the up-and-coming bands that the bar’s owner, Hank Donato, was sure would make it one day lined the walls. Alongside them were posters advertising Hank’s magnum opus, HamptonFest: a three-day-long festival that would surely transform East Hampton into a musical mecca. Unfortunately, after years of promises, the town was still waiting for the event to actually happen.
Lydia entered the bar first, her chin high as if she were holding court. Her dark hair was wavy and wild at her shoulders, and her tanned skin was covered with a gold shimmer powder that made her hazel eyes sparkle. Despite their mother’s demands, she wasn’t wearing a pair of Lux Leggings. Neither was Kitty, who had only added a navy sweater tied around her shoulders, while Mary was still wearing her T-shirt and jeans, although now she donned an Our Planet, Our Rules button and a huge pile of Save Gretna Island! pamphlets under her arm. Lizzy had only swapped out her overalls for a pair of jeans.
Jane wasn’t so lucky. While the rest of the sisters were only too happy to ignore their mother’s pleas for self-promotion, Jane could never bring herself to do it, so she entered the bar wearing a pair of yellow-and-pink leopard-print leggings with gemstones embroidered on the seams.
As soon as they walked in, Mary disappeared into the crowd to hand out her pamphlets, while Lydia and Kitty headed straight to the end of the long bar near the front entrance to see everyone who came or left that evening. Jane and Lizzy followed them, but only because there were a few empty stools nearby and Hank’s daughter and bartender, Piper, was already there pouring them drinks.
“What’d we miss?” Lizzy asked as she landed on one of the stools. Jane sat down beside her.
“Nothing so far,” Piper replied, sliding a beer in front of Lizzy and a glass of white wine in front of Jane. Piper’s curly chestnut hair was in a loose bun, and she donned the same dimpled smile she’d had since middle school. And while Lizzy knew her friend was happy to see them, she was also aware that Piper’s current grin probably had more to do with the fact that she had just returned from visiting her girlfriend in Boston than the bar’s clientele. “Here Comes the Sandman just finished their soundcheck.”
“Here Comes the Sandman?” Jane asked, looking almost concerned.
“They’re a Beatles/Metallica cover band.” Piper nodded to the nearby stage. “My dad’s expecting it to get crowded tonight, so he wants them to start soon.”
“The cidiots are coming,” Lizzy whispered solemnly as she took a sip of her beer.
Piper laughed, as much at the sentiment as at the old nickname for the “city idiots” from New York who invaded their town every summer. It looked like Jane wanted to laugh as well, but she was fighting it as she shook her head.
***
“Hello,” a deep, jovial voice cut her off.
Lizzy and Jane turned at the same time to see Charlie Pierce standing before them, a wide smile on his full lips, and his eyes fixed solely on Jane. His curly brown hair was mussed, but in the adorable way that implied he had been running his hand through it all day. His clothes were casual, too, though his linen shirt and khakis were as perfectly pressed as his sisters’ outfits. The palm tree hater loomed beside him.
“Hi,” Jane said, matching his smile. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me—”
“Not at all, I—”
“It’s just that I saw you—”
“Me, too.”
Then they both laughed.
Lizzy watched in awe. It was like having a front seat to a real-life rom-com. Meanwhile, the blond man at Charlie’s side looked on with a confused frown, as if the two of them had suddenly started speaking in tongues.
Charlie was oblivious, though, holding out his hand to Jane. “I’m Charlie Pierce. And this is my friend Will Darcy.”
Jane took Charlie’s hand and shook it gently. “I’m Jane. This is my sister Elizabeth.”
Lizzy waved her off. “It’s just Lizzy.”
Charlie didn’t even look at her, his eyes were still locked with Jane’s. “It’s a pleasure.”
At that moment, Lizzy half expected the band to break into a moving pop-rock ballad and the entire scene to go into slow motion. As if the stars had aligned and everything that had ever happened had led Jane and Charlie to this moment.
Then his friend cut in.
“You work at the bakery.”
His deep voice was startling, and Lizzy looked over to find him—Will, was it?—now glaring at her. His blue eyes were intense as he studied her with what looked like concern. Or was it annoyance? She couldn’t tell.
In any case, she forced a smile. “I’m surprised you remember.”
His harsh gaze moved to the bun on top of her head. “You were covered in flour.”
Lizzy tilted her head for a moment, considering him, then almost laughed. Was he serious?
“It was powdered sugar, actually,” she replied, throwing a Tater Tot in her mouth.
He stared back.
“Oh my gosh!” Charlie turned, eyes wide like he had only just noticed her. “That’s right! Bennet Bakery! You recommended this place!”
“I did,” Lizzy said proudly.
“Well, it’s perfect. Thank you. And who would have thought I’d see a fellow Doctor Who fan out in the wild, too,” Charlie said, then made a slight motion as if he was about to reach for the TARDIS dangling from Jane’s left ear, but stopped himself. Then he cleared his throat and nodded to Jane’s bedazzled legs. “And those pants! They’re very . . . shiny.”
“Oh. Thanks,” Jane said, looking down as if she had only just remembered she was wearing them. “My mom forces all of us to wear them at some point.”
A touch of confusion entered Charlie’s expression. “I’m sorry?” 
“It’s just . . . my mom designs them. And then she makes me and Lizzy and our other sisters wear them to spread the word, so . . .”
Jane’s voice trailed off, but Charlie didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a good idea. You look stunning.”
Jane let out a soft laugh, and Lizzy’s heart swelled. “How many sisters do you have?” he continued.
 “There’s five of us.”
“Wow.” Charlie’s eyes widened. “How do you keep track?”
Jane laughed again, but it faded quickly as her gaze went to her lap. The introverted side of her was beginning to take hold, but Lizzy refused to let it ruin the moment.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Lizzy said, pointing down the bar at her two sisters in the middle of the dance floor. “Lydia and Kitty are identical twins, but you can tell them apart because Lydia usually has her phone out recording herself, while Kitty looks like she’s preparing a run for Congress. And that short blue pixie cut over there is Mary.” She pointed to Mary’s head bobbing through the crowd by the door. “She’s saving the world and has the literature to prove it. Then there’s Jane. She’s easy to remember because she’s the most beautiful, and also the nicest.”
Jane rolled her eyes as her cheeks flushed.
“What about you?” Will’s voice cut through the moment.
Lizzy blinked, turning to him again. His voice was rough, with an unhewn edge that felt coarse in her ear. Maybe that’s why it sent an odd shiver down her spine.
“I guess I’m just the redhead,” she answered with a shrug.
From “Elizabeth of East Hampton” by Audrey Bellezza and Emily Harding.  Copyright © 2024 by Audrey Bellezza and Emily Harding. Reprinted by permission of Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster. 
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Margo
The moment I walked through the front door, I knew. That deep, abiding quiet, and the sense that the outside world couldn’t reach me here. I was like someone chased by demons across the threshold of a church, stepping into the library that first time. I could have turned around, right there at the door, and stuck my tongue out at the world.
Can’t catch me.
I didn’t do it, and besides, the world wasn’t watching. Couldn’t find me anyway, could it? I’d already changed my hair and makeup, my clothes, my voice, and even the way I walked. I’d changed my name, too. I’d been Jane but I was Margo now. I liked Margo. Jane would have turned and stuck her tongue out, but Margo never would. No, Margo simply stood in the vestibule, shoulders back and head held high like a queen.
I hadn’t spent much time in libraries before then. It was quiet as a nighttime ICU ward—maybe quieter, without all the noise that goes with slow dying: the whoosh of respirators, the mechanical beeps of infusion pumps. I stared up at the high, vaulted ceiling and around at the egg-white walls, then sat down at one of the public computers. I checked the want ads and saw one for circulation clerk right there at the Carlyle Public Library. I toiled over a cover letter and résumé for an hour or so, then handed them in at the desk. “I was so happy to see this job come up,” I said to the stout, red-haired woman there. She seemed managerial, but I learned later that Liz was just a regular staff member. “I can’t imagine a more peaceful work environment,” I went on, waving my arm around. She chuckled a bit, as if I’d said something funny. But from what I could tell, the library was just that: quiet, anonymous, orderly, and sane. From the grandness of the old building to the way the light slanted through the high windows that afternoon, I knew I’d landed in a cozy, carpeted, outdated vault, and I loved it on sight. The job was what I wanted, too: helping people. Not the way I’d helped them before, at the hospital, but still. I would be serving others. When I’d glanced around at the careworn souls sitting at the monitors that day, I’d known there would be plenty of work for me here, plenty of helping to do.
Liz and I struck up a conversation. I told her how long I’d been in town, how much I was enjoying the weekend farmers’ market—though I hadn’t even been—and the birdsong outside my window every morning. She seemed like the bird-watching type. I told her I’d seen cardinals, wrens, and woodpeckers, though the only birds I’d really seen were the pigeons in the parking lot of my Soviet-era apartment complex, pecking at the ground. I told her a tale about moving from Indianapolis, where all I could hear was the roaring river of cars. I told her I’d hated it, hated the overrated canal walk and the seedy downtown, and had moved for a much-needed change. Liz and I were laughing like old friends before long, and she said she’d put in a good word for me.
And now here I am, two years later, checking out patrons’ books, DVDs, and audiobooks, answering their questions about overdue fees with patient grace, policing the computers where I myself sat that first day, making sure the guy in the baseball hat who comes in on Fridays doesn’t watch porn while he’s pretending to job-search. I understand now why Liz chuckled that first day; the library is peaceful, on the whole, but disturbances happen. Patrons shout into their cell phones, throw tantrums over lost books, or hide, half-naked, in hidden corners of the stacks. I’m never bored here—the way I thought I might be when I first arrived.
I sneak up behind Friday Guy, as we’ve come to call him, and lean right over his shoulder so my breath is hot on his neck. “Hey,” I say. He jumps and fumbles, tries to click screens to cover up the giant t*** I just saw bouncing before my eyes. Then he looks up, red-faced. Sweating, even in the cold of the main room. “You know the rules,” I say, drawing up to my full height. “Yes, ma’am.” I feel a deep tickle when he calls me ma’am and obeys me like a scolded dog. “I’m watching you,” I tell him. “Yes, ma’am.” He blinks up at me with his sad gray eyes. After a long pause, I walk away.
Liz and the younger clerk, Nasrin, watch me return to the desk, triumphant. “You’re amazing,” Nasrin says, shaking her head in wonder. I just shrug. “You should have seen the double-Ds he was ogling today,” I say, lifting my eyebrows. Nasrin covers her mouth as we all stand there, the two of them giggling like children. I don’t even bother being discreet—I’m laughing my deep laugh when Friday Guy slinks past the desk, still red-faced, carrying plastic bags full of loose papers as usual. Every time I think: He won’t come back. He’ll find some other unsuspecting branch, one without a Margo. But every Friday, he’s there, eyeing those t***, waiting for me to catch him. I guess he likes the game of it.
I like the game of it, too. My nipples, tucked inside my padded bra, get hard every time we perform our little ritual. It isn’t like my hospital days, but it’s better than nothing.
From HOW CAN I HELP YOU by Laura Sims, published by Putnam, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright (c) 2023 by Laura Sims.
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