Your Avelrow shelf.

Mystery

A Broken Kind of Season

Aileen Muir

The hours before the ceremony had given no warning except the kind people ignore because ordinary life is noisy. Finn had woken to Nell singing to her cereal. His mother had coughed in the hallway and told everyone she was fine in a voice that meant she was absolutely not. His father had burned toast, scraped it, burned the scraped toast, and finally served everyone Weetabix with the solemnity of a man making legal reparations.

Romantasy / Maritime Fantasy

A Crown of Salt and Starlight

Aisling Vire

The Tidebound Courts

Salt, starlight and a crown with a cost shape this maritime romantasy. A Crown of Salt and Starlight brings desire and duty into the same tide, where neither power nor love arrives without consequence.

Contemporary Women's Fiction

A Harbour for Maeve

Sorcha Lennox

The gale warning hit the parish WhatsApp five minutes after Maeve Hayes dragged the first sheet of plywood from the storeroom, and three minutes after she decided she didn’t need anyone’s help to get it over the pub windows. Rain came at her sideways, a thousand pins seeking the seams in her sleeves. She braced a boot on the sill, drove a screw until the drill whined, and told herself she wouldn’t look when a van took the corner too fast and braked too hard outside.

Holiday Family Fiction

A Hearth for the Holidays

Nollaig Caird

The letter arrived on Christmas Eve with no stamp, no return address, and ash caught in the fold like a secret that had survived a fire. Orla Devane knew better than to touch it. She had spent fifteen years building a life out of that exact discipline: do not touch what can burn you, do not ask questions that have already cost you a home, do not go back to Emerald Harbour simply because an old woman dies and the dead get sentimental with timing.

Marriage Fiction

A Marriage at Low Tide

Laura Carpenter

The first tribunal notice arrived in a brown envelope with the tide still low enough to show the black ribs of the harbour wall. Nessa Harte found it wedged under the schoolbag her daughter had abandoned beside the kitchen table, half hidden by a county jersey that should have been washed two nights ago and a lunch note that read: Remember the yogurt this time, Mam, because I am not emotionally built for a dry sandwich.

Small-Town Romance

A Photograph That Arrived Dry

Sorcha Lennox

THE THINGS THE SEA DOES NOT KEEP The sea returned the wedding photographs on a Thursday. It did not return the wedding. That distinction would matter later.

Psychological Thriller

A Seat Saved in the Visitor Lot

Clara Vey

At eight forty-three on Thursday morning, Sive Moran repainted the white line around a parking space reserved for a woman who had not visited the prison in fourteen months. Nobody had asked her to. That was important. If somebody had asked, there would have been a form.

Emotional Romance

A Thousand Small Returns

Skye Wilder

The first envelope came back slit open, rain-softened at the corners, and stamped RETURN TO SENDER in a red so violent it looked less like ink than a wound. Maeve Larkin stood in the staff doorway of the Harbour Light Hotel with one hand still on the brass threshold plate, her waitress shoes soaked through, and understood before she read her own name that some doors did not close politely.

Epic Fantasy

AONMARA The Fifth Ring

Aisling Vire

Book One of The Fifth Ring Saga · Book 1

The Tide Went Wrong The tide went wrong three nights before the dead fisherman came home. Not with storm. Storms belonged to ordinary fear, and ordinary fear had rules. Storms broke masts. Storms drowned cattle in low fields. Storms tore slates from roofs and left women standing in doorways counting names into the dark with shaking hands and practical voices.

YA Contemporary

Academy Day

Laura Carpenter

Aunties at the Gate Aunties by deed collected her at the gate the way starlings collect a fence: all at once, no fuss. Keira held the inside of Gráinne’s elbow gentle as a seatbelt, a hello that said you’re here; Ciara took the bag; Dee grimaced at the scuffed laces and winked; Úna had tape between two fingers like a magician. Neasa, late from work, jogged across the forecourt with a lunchbox.

Celebrity Romance

After They Call Cut

Caoimhe Kildare

THE LAST SCENE The last thing Maeve Callaghan ever said as Eilidh Kerr was not written in the script. It was not supposed to be said at all. The script had given her silence. After fourteen years, eight seasons, three wars, two fictional children buried and four fictional grandchildren born, a shipwreck, a hanging narrowly avoided, one revolution, a fever that had taken six weeks to film and roughly ten minutes to survive on screen, and more mud than any actress should reasonably be expected to swallow for art, Eilidh Kerr’s final instruction was simple.

Reinvention Fiction

After the Last School Run

Mairéad Kellan

The last school run began with a lunchbox Maggie Byrne could not bring herself to throw away. It sat on the passenger seat of her car at twenty past eight on a wet Tuesday morning, pink plastic gone cloudy at the corners, one hinge cracked, the faded sticker of a cartoon fox half-peeled from the lid. There was nothing inside it except a folded kitchen towel and the stale ghost of apple slices, but Maggie had washed it twice the night before, dried it with the good tea towel, and set it by the kettle as though Aoife might come downstairs half asleep and ask where her blue jumper was.

Sports Romance

After the Match

Nessa Calder

Physiotherapist and single mother Aoife Byrne has built a careful life around work, community and her fierce nine-year-old daughter. When football star Eoin Daly returns home for a testimonial season, the boy she once loved walks back into the leisure centre carrying an injured knee, a changed life and the history neither of them has quite buried. As school visits, family loyalties and the pressure of public attention pull them closer, Aoife and Eoin must decide whether a second chance can be built from something quieter than grand gestures: trust, ordinary reliability, and the courage to stay after the match is over.

Erotic Romance

Aftercare at Midnight

Sive Hart

At midnight, the harbour door locked from the inside. That was the rule on the bronze plaque beside the bell: no spectators after twelve, no phones beyond the velvet line, no touch without a yes that could survive morning. Mara Vale had written the words herself in a fit of stubborn optimism and made the sign-maker engrave them twice because the first version had put consent in smaller letters than discretion.

Small-Town Romance

All the Little Safeties

Laura Carpenter

Ana Byrne learned the weight of a secret at half past six on a Tuesday morning, standing barefoot on the cold tile of her bathroom with the sea still black beyond the window and a white plastic stick balanced on the rim of the sink like a verdict too small for the crime. The house was silent around her. Not peaceful. Silence, Ana had decided years ago, was only peace when someone had chosen it kindly.

Epic Fantasy / Celtic Maritime Fantasy

Aonmara

Aisling Vire

The Fifth Ring Saga · Book 1

Sea, myth and old loyalties shape Aonmara, an epic Celtic maritime fantasy with a world built around what people owe one another. Its magic is large, but its choices remain deeply human.

Celtic Fantasy

Ashes at Blackwater

Sadhbh Éireann

On the day Bríd Ó Corráin is buried, blood boils beneath a kettle in the Blackwater Arms and her missing St Brigid medal rises from it with a warning: the fourth ash wakes. As Niamh confronts the enigmatic Cian Vale and the secrets her family kept in the name of survival, a drowned kingdom lights beneath Blackwater Harbour and an ancient oath tied to her blood begins to break.

Space Opera

Asteriad

Cael Ardmore

the Asteriad Sequence · Book 1

Twelve years before every gate in human space learned her voice, Orla Kavanagh stood beneath Gate Twelve with a paper star in her pocket and a lie on her departure record. The lie was small enough to pass beneath notice. Archive tender maintenance. Three-person crew. Routine reciprocal inspection between Cork Ring and Vespera. Return window: four hours. Cargo: calibration glass, lattice probes, two sealed boxes of authenticated civic records, one spare pressure seal, and nothing that could inconvenience the Concord.

Jacobite Historical

Before the Brave Key

Mairi Douglas

The key was still warm from the dead woman’s hand when Eilidh Cameron understood that loyalty had a sound: iron against bone, small as a breath, final as a kirk bell. She stood in the back passage of Harbour House with her apron streaked in lampblack and rain, while the dining room beyond the green baize door roared with men pretending history was something they could drink into obedience.

Medieval Historical

Before the Iron Chapel

Fergus MacAlpin

The bell from the iron chapel rang once before dawn, though every man in Emerald Harbour knew the chapel had no bell. It had not had one since the old raid, when fire took the roof, sea-wind took the ashes, and Lord Bradan's men swore the saints themselves had gone silent rather than bless the blood that soaked the flagstones. Fergus MacAlpin heard that single impossible note while standing ankle-deep in the tidal mud with a stolen child under his cloak and his own clan's oath-stone warm against his breast.

Irish Historical

Before the Last Ballad

Branna O'Dwyer

Emerald Harbour, 1882. Schoolmistress Nóra Friel turns a respectable charity concert into an act of rebellion when she sings the forbidden final verse of her father's ballad, exposing the hunger and evictions powerful men prefer unnamed. Arrested into the uneasy custody of Cormac Ó Dálaigh—a childhood friend now working among the very ledgers the town distrusts—Nóra discovers the song may point to proof of stolen relief, illegal evictions and a conspiracy her father died carrying.

Irish Historical Fiction

Before the Scarlet Season

Branna O'Dwyer

Before the Scarlet Season lives in the uneasy space before change, when ordinary routines begin to carry a different weight. An Irish historical novel about family loyalties, private choices and what people sense before they are ready to name it.

Small-Town Romance

Borrowed Cottage Hearts

Sorcha Lennox

Ronan O’Doherty had never liked the way the cottage fell quiet at night. It wasn’t real quiet, not with the wind coming in off the Atlantic and rattling the old storm windows, and the sea pushing itself up against the harbour wall like it might finally work out how to climb. The pipes clanked, the turf in the grate sighed and settled, and somewhere down the hall his father snored like a tractor that ought to be retired.

Romantic Comedy

Borrowed Honeymoon

Laura Carpenter

Evidence The morning I finally take the tickets out again, I do it like I’m handling evidence. They’ve been living in the back of my handbag for months, wedged behind receipts and lip balm, as if hiding them could make them less real. Two names printed in neat black type. Two seats. Two weeks in Venice. A honeymoon that never happened because my fiancé left before the wedding and the world kept moving as if heartbreak were a weather system.

Holiday Romance

Christmas at Lighthouse Point

Aoife Winters

The lighthouse lamp failed twelve days before Christmas, and the first person to notice was the woman everyone in Emerald Harbour had learned not to pity. Mara Keane stood at the end of the pier with a box of donated paper angels under one arm, a municipal clipboard under the other, and the taste of old panic at the back of her throat. Across the black water, Lighthouse Point should have been breathing its steady white pulse over the bay—three seconds of light, three seconds of dark, the town’s oldest reassurance.

Psychological Horror

Come Home, Mara Vale

Lachlan Ashen

Independent investigator Mara Vale is publicly discredited at a national integrity hearing when impossible ash, a sealed childhood institution called Ash House, and the voice of her missing brother force her back toward the family secrets and official records she has spent her career exposing.

Contemporary Women's Fiction

Crossing Home

Laura Carpenter

The ferry bell rang once for the living and twice for the dead, and on Inish Rua everyone knew which count the sea preferred. By nine that November night, Captain Niall O’Rourke had already carried three nurses, a crate of antibiotics, two sacks of lamb meal, and one furious priest across a black channel that had no interest in mercy. The fourth crossing should have been cancelled.

Paranormal Fantasy

Dont Open the Red Door

Muirne Dubhán

The Red House Cycle, Book Three · Book 3

The Vale Hotel had been closed for eleven years, but the bells still rang. Not often. Not with any rhythm a sensible person could name. They waited for fog, for the hour after midnight when the Atlantic pressed its black shoulder against the cliffs and every road into Ballyrue narrowed under hawthorn and salt. Then one bell would answer another in the walls, a thin silver shiver travelling through the old service wires, from the kitchens to the linen rooms, from the linen rooms to the third-floor suites, from the third-floor suites down to the east corridor where the red door sat at the end like a sealed mouth.

Contemporary Family Drama / Protective Romance

Doors Before Diamonds

Laura Carpenter

All the Law The mornings settled themselves into a choreography no one had rehearsed but all of them somehow knew. Maeve kept one palm curved under Sorcha’s small skull and the other balancing Seamus’s bottle while the kettle ticked itself toward the boil. RJ clattered bowls like cymbals, delighted to be assigned “dry hand” for the breakfast-table clean-line; Ellie prowled barefoot in her bunny pyjamas until she made her choice—up, always up—and scaled Rowan as if he were the only mountain on the island, koala-clinging to his shoulder with the solemn focus of a mountaineer and then dissolving into giggles when he swayed.

Medical-Legal Thriller

Every Quiet Thing

E. L. Doherty

The sea had a way of pretending it was innocent. From the lane above the cliffs it looked almost gentle — slate-grey, flecked with pale foam, breathing in and out like something asleep. The wind did the loud work, flinging rain sideways, rattling the gorse, making a song of the wire fences. Down below, the tide kept its own counsel. Nora Fallon walked that path with her coat pulled tight and her hair half loose, as if she’d forgotten she was meant to be careful.

Missing Person Thriller

Everyone Saw Her Leave

Aidan Kerrigan

Emerald Harbour Missing • · Book 1

1989 By half nine the summer carnival had stopped pretending it belonged to children. The toddlers with painted cheeks had been carried home sticky with sugar. The parish raffle had ended in a dispute over a ham nobody admitted wanting. Teenagers had taken possession of the grass behind Saint Brigid’s Hall, the older boys leaning against the railings as if they had personally invented cigarettes, the girls moving in bright packs between the music tent and the harbour road.

Women's Fiction / Romantic Suspense

Ferry Weather

Rhys MacIan

On the Galway coast, Nora Fahey faces a possession notice that threatens Ardglass House and uncovers a buried family scandal, while Ciaran Vale returns with evidence that the fight over her home reaches far beyond property. A women's fiction romantic suspense novel about family, inheritance, truth, and the price of staying.

Contemporary Women's Fiction

Graydon and Lyoness

Laura Carpenter

She lets the kettle sing because if she cuts the song short, the day will feel unfinished. Steam rounds the kitchen window; she rubs a small circle clear with her knuckles and sees the Liffey in its expensive grey. Seven months along, nineteen years old, and somehow both. Orla answers her palm with a deliberate push—hello, I’m here—then settles like tide easing against a harbour wall.

Book Club Fiction

Growing Together

Fiadh Callister

The Kettle Song She lets the kettle sing because if she cuts the song short, the day will feel unfinished. Steam rounds the kitchen window; she rubs a small circle clear with her knuckles and sees the Liffey in its expensive grey. Seven months along, nineteen years old, and somehow both. Orla answers her palm with a deliberate push—hello, I’m here—then settles like tide easing against a harbour wall.

Protector Romance

Guarded by the Storm

Skye MacLeod

The letter arrived in a dead man’s waterproof coat. Not in the post, not with a neat stamp and a civilised knock, but folded into the oilskin pocket of a fisherman who had been dragged from the Minch with his hands still clenched as if he had tried to hold the sea shut. Isla Kerr saw the coat before she saw the body, and that was what stayed with her: the yellow sleeve lifting in the wind like a warning flag, the black buttons shining wet, the torn cuff caught on the rusted hook beside the pier office door.

Holiday Romance

Killarney Christmas

Aoife Winters

Killarney Wakes Killarney wakes in a hush that tastes of pine and the sea, a breath held between weather fronts, and Niamh Kelleher sets her shoulder to the morning like it’s an old friend. The fairy lights along the front parlour window blink in a slow heartbeat while she ices trays of cinnamon buns, a flurry of sugar settling on the oak like first snow. Radio Kerry chimes the forecast—“a cold snap, mind yourselves”—and in the pause before the kettle clicks, she hears a taxi’s tyres hiss past the guesthouse and splash the kerb.

Mother–Daughter Fiction

Mother of the Bride and Other Wars

Fiona Ainslie

The first war began with a seating plan and a dead woman’s handwriting. It was not the dramatic sort of war, not at first. No one threw a vase, no one fainted beautifully into the arms of a man with a square jaw and an inconveniently available inheritance, and no one announced a secret pregnancy over smoked salmon. It began, as most family wars do, with a woman standing alone in a kitchen at midnight, holding a piece of paper that should have been blank.

Belfast Crime Thriller / Romantic Suspense

Night Harbour

Rowan Kincaid

Belfast Night Crimes · Book 1

At that hour Belfast belonged to wind, black water, and the sort of men who mistook darkness for a deed. The cranes loomed over the docks like iron saints gone feral, long arms braced above the shipping lanes while the river shoved oil-dark against the pilings. Rust, salt, diesel, old bad decisions - the whole harbour reeked of them. She should not have answered the phone.

Mythic Maritime Fantasy

Oathtide

Fionnlagh MacAlpin

Oathtide Cycle • Book One · Book 1

Saltwater, old oaths and a world shaped by the sea give Oathtide its mythic pull. This maritime fantasy is about loyalty, consequence and promises that refuse to stay buried.

Sports Drama Romance

Off Course

Bronagh Fairburn

High Tide Trilogy · Book 1

After a near-catastrophic rig failure threatens his offshore racing campaign, skipper Ronan Kearney needs one strategist brilliant enough to keep the team competitive: Maeve Sullivan, the navigator tied to the part of his past he has never managed to put right. Bringing her back to County Down means old loyalties, old hurt and championship pressure collide on the same deck. Off Course is a high-stakes sports romance about trust under pressure, second chances and two people learning that winning means very little if they repeat the same old mistakes.

Adventure Readers

Ruairi and the River That Ran Uphill

Ruairí Faolán

Twelve-year-old Ruairi Faolan knows water is supposed to run downhill—until the stream outside Harbour House School climbs the yard and an old Ravenmere ledger knocks beneath his hand. When a century-old ferry ticket appears with his name on it and a sealed school wing opens onto an impossible stair, Ruairi learns the town once borrowed ten children from the river and never properly returned them.

Historical Romance / Family Saga

Saltwater Vows

Eilidh Ross

Cozy Mystery

Scones, Secrets, and One Dead Councillor

Orla Ashdown

The first scone to cause a death in Emerald Harbour was not, strictly speaking, poisoned. Molly Fenn would later be very firm on that point, because a woman might survive gossip, debt, heartbreak, and one catastrophic fringe cut, but she could not survive a village deciding her almond-and-blackcurrant scones were murder weapons. The scone was innocent. The man beside it was another matter entirely.

Contemporary Irish Coastal Romance

THE LION'S LOST HEIR

Bridie Byrne McGuinness

The needle liked to sing when Willow worked—thin notes of metal and breath that soothed brides and steadied her own hands. Today it trembled. She tightened the corset laces the way her mother had taught her—two pulls, one whisper—and the bodice closed like a secret around the young woman’s ribs. Outside the atelier’s front glass, two men in municipal jackets loitered beside a clipboard and a strip of yellow tape that was not quite tape, not yet.

Epic Fantasy

The Bloodstar Heir

Aisling Vire

THE BOY BENEATH THE RED TIDE Ciaran Daire had learned, long before he had the height to reach a latch, that a man could survive almost anything if he kept his hands busy. That morning, his hands were in a barrel of brine up to the wrist. The salt bit into the old cracks across his knuckles, found the raw place under his thumbnail, and stung there with the private cheer of something delighted to be useful.

Romantic Fantasy

The Door Beneath the Tide

Aisling Vire

Dúnmara Chronicles · Book 1

Epic Fantasy

The Drowned Oath

Aisling Vire

Dúnmara Chronicles · Book 4

The drowned boat came home without its men at the hour when the tide should have been going out. By then, Cara O’Dálaigh had learned to distrust every mercy that arrived clean. A boat returning was supposed to be a blessing. A small one, perhaps, compared with childbirth, harvest, fever breaking before dawn, or a husband’s hand finding yours beneath a table while men argued law around you as if women were furniture with opinions.

Gothic Romance

The Ghost at Ravensmere

Ailsa Crowe

Some legacies should stay buried. Some loves refuse to. The Ghost at Ravensmere opens the gates to a moonlit coastal estate where inheritance, desire and dangerous truths refuse to remain politely in the past. Ailsa Crowe blends gothic atmosphere, haunted family history and romance into a story where the house remembers more than its living occupants are prepared to admit.

Cozy Romantasy

The Hearth Witch and the Sea Prince

Iseabail Moonan

House Six Romantasy • Book One

Hearth magic meets saltwater royalty in The Hearth Witch and the Sea Prince. A cosy romantasy about belonging, bargains and two very different worlds finding common ground.

Contemporary Romantic Suspense / Infrastructure Thriller

The Last Sleeper

Keir Devlin

Infrastructure engineer Isla MacCrae catches an abnormal tilt at a rain-battered viaduct while management calls it weather and reputational risk. Coastguard rescuer Ewan hears the danger too. As failed cameras, altered logs and overloaded freight point toward deliberate interference, Isla must hold the line long enough to keep a sleeper train—and the town beneath it—safe, while trusting the steady man who refuses to let her stand alone.

Marriage Fiction

The Shape of a Marriage

Mairéad Quinn

The ring had been left in the sugar bowl, which was either a kindness or a crime, and Nóra Ríordan could not yet decide which. She found it at six nineteen on a Tuesday morning while the house still wore its night sounds: the boiler muttering behind the press, the old stair settling its bones, the sea beyond the harbour wall breathing in the dark like someone trying not to cry.

Scottish Historical Fiction / Historical Romance

The Winter Republic

Alina MacRae

When Eilidh Ross splits the king’s seal and refuses an order for winter evictions, one act of defiance turns the Scottish town of Inverglass into the beginning of a republic. With soldiers closing the roads and ordinary families forced to choose between obedience and survival, Captain Fraser becomes an uneasy ally in a cause neither of them can control—and a dangerous intimacy neither expected.

Police Procedural

When the Cameras Stop

L. M. Devane

THE LAST SCENE The last thing Maeve Callaghan ever said as Eilidh Kerr was not written in the script. It was not supposed to be said at all. The script had given her silence. After fourteen years, eight seasons, three wars, two fictional children buried and four fictional grandchildren born, a shipwreck, a hanging narrowly avoided, one revolution, a fever that had taken six weeks to film and roughly ten minutes to survive on screen, and more mud than any actress should reasonably be expected to swallow for art, Eilidh Kerr’s final instruction was simple.