Sneak Peek: The Storm Is Brewing in Sapphire Seas
New York was her dream.
Now, it’s her gilded cage.
We’re halfway through March and halfway to launch! With only two weeks until Sapphire Seas and Emerald Tide officially set sail on March 31, it's time to give Harper Brooks her moment in the spotlight.
Today’s blog is a special sneak peek of Chapter 1 from Sapphire Seas—a story about second chances, personal reckoning, and the delicate unraveling of a woman who’s spent her life trying to hold it all together.
Harper’s sharp mind and creative fire once lit up New York’s advertising world, but now she's drowning in compromises, corporate “safe bets,” and a job that’s lost its luster. This first chapter is the spark before the explosion—the calm before the storm. And just like Harper, maybe it's time to ask yourself: What happens when the dream you’ve chased no longer feels like your own?
Behind every smile is a woman one step from falling apart.
Sapphire Seas—Chapter 1:
Gleaming with sleek modernity, Brighton & Burke Advertising’s office featured floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the cityscape, showcasing New York’s architectural prowess in steel and glass. The room itself, with its minimalist design and pristine white walls, evoked creativity, but to Harper Brooks, it felt more like a sterile cage. The polished conference table stretched long between them, its reflective surface mirroring the carefully arranged faces of the clients seated across from her. Their smiles were polite, but their eyes seemed distant as if they were humoring her, waiting for their chance to talk.
Outside, New York pulsed with life. The mid-morning sun threw sharp angles of light between the towering skyscrapers, casting busy shadows that seemed to dance across the floor of her office. The city’s symphony of honking taxis, steady footsteps, and occasional sirens reached Harper through the glass, reminding her of a dream she’d once treasured.
This city had been her fantasy. Years ago, when she was just a wide-eyed girl from Myrtle Beach, she had envisioned herself here, thriving amid the buzz of creativity, surrounded by thinkers, doers, and innovators. She saw herself burning the midnight oil, but not from stress, from excitement. She wanted to do campaigns that would be a big deal, set the pace, and make a difference. New York was her dream, the place she thought she’d finally make it big.
Now, it felt like a mirage that had dissolved the moment she reached out to touch it.
“Harper,” the voice of Steven Knox, the client’s CEO, broke into her thoughts, pulling her back to the present with a sudden snap. “We’ve been thinking about the campaign, and, well …” He exchanged a glance with his marketing officer, who quickly nodded. “We’d really like to take a more, let’s say, familiar approach.”
Harper leaned forward, hiding the tension that was already tightening across her chest. Her professional smile, polished through years of practice, became her shield. “Of course, Steven. What do you have in mind?”
Knox swiped his tablet, scrolling through what Harper could only imagine was a portfolio of mediocrity. He paused, and with a swipe, a campaign popped up on the oversized screen in the middle of the room. It was bright, flashy, and disturbingly familiar.
Her heart sank.
“This,” he said, with an enthusiasm that twisted in her stomach. “This is exactly what we’re looking for. It’s bold, but safe. We don’t want to take unnecessary risks. You know, the public likes what it likes.” He gave a light chuckle as if it were a joke they all shared.
Harper’s eyes flicked to the screen. It was like a copy and paste job of every other campaign she’d seen, super slick but lacking any fresh ideas. Another campaign that felt like every other corporate ad trying to be hip, but in reality, offered nothing new. The creative fire in her flickered, then dimmed.
Her hands, folded neatly on the table, itched to swipe the screen clear and replace it with her own ideas. Bold, unconventional, disruptive ideas that she had stayed up late crafting, that she had poured her soul into. Campaigns designed to both engage the mind and move the heart. However, she simply nodded as Steven spoke glowingly about a competing company’s successful campaign, which mirrored their own.
“I’ve seen this before,” Harper said, her voice careful, controlled, though a quiet burn licked at her insides. “It’s certainly effective, but wouldn’t you rather stand out in the market, rather than blend in?” Her smile was inviting, suggesting understanding and a gentle push toward embracing difference. “We could take this concept and elevate it, add a twist unique to your brand.”
Knox glanced at his marketing officer, and the woman beside him barely hid her sigh. “We’re not looking to reinvent the wheel, Harper,” Knox said, his tone affable but dismissive. “Let’s go with something tried and true, you know, safe and recognizable. People prefer simplicity and clarity over excessive creativity. We’re looking for results, not art.”
The words struck her like a physical blow, knocking the wind from her lungs in the subtlest of ways. Not art. They never wanted art anymore. Harper’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her pants under the table, the movement hidden but enough to release some of the tension building in her body. She took a slow, quiet breath, forcing herself to remain calm, to smooth out the edges of her frustration.
“Of course,” she said, her voice steady, despite every fiber of her being recoiled at the thought. “We can make adjustments. I’ll talk to the team about incorporating some of these elements, and we’ll ensure it’s exactly what you’re looking for.”
It felt like a betrayal. The artistic passion that had fueled her journey to New York felt betrayed and abandoned. And worse, it felt like a betrayal of herself. But this was the dance she had perfected. She could push the boundary just enough to offer something fresh, something daring, but when the clients came back with their “safe” requests, she had to bend. Every time she bent, she felt herself cracking just a little more, though.
“Great, great,” Knox said, already moving on. “We need the revised drafts by the end of next week. Looking forward to seeing what your team can do.”
The meeting wrapped up in a flurry of polite goodbyes and handshakes. Harper plastered on her most gracious smile, even though it felt like it might crack under the weight of her exhaustion. Once they left, she sank back into her chair and stared out the window, watching the city below churn with movement, energy, and life. The skyline that had once filled her with awe now felt oppressive, a towering reminder of dreams deferred.
The office felt too quiet, the ghost of the client’s cologne lingering like an unwelcome presence. Her reflection in the window looked tired, the edges of her smile already slipping away, replaced by a deep-set weariness she hadn’t noticed before.
Once upon a time, she had thought this life would make her feel alive. She had envisioned the thrill of building campaigns that made waves, that left a mark on the world. Instead, she was building cookie-cutter ads, nothing more than variations on someone else’s work, dressed up just enough to look new. The ideas that used to fuel her fire were silenced, deemed “unrealistic” or “too bold,” and neatly tucked away. The spark of creativity that fueled her journey, once blazing, now flickered, dimmed by the relentless pressure to conform.
Harper rose from her chair, crossing the office to the window. She pressed her fingers against the cool glass, her gaze fixed on the bustling streets below. Somewhere in the sea of yellow cabs and blurred figures rushing back and forth, she had lost herself. She had lost the spark that had brought her here in the first place, traded it for client appeasement and corporate satisfaction.
New York had once been her dream. Now, it felt like a gilded cage.
The city continued to buzz beneath her, indifferent to her struggle, its lights winking in the mid-morning sun.
Harper stood at the window a moment longer, the cool glass beneath her fingertips grounding her in the present, forcing her breath to slow. She could feel the tightness in her chest loosening slightly, though the knot of frustration still lingered just beneath her ribcage. Her eyes closed, a deep breath calming the turmoil within. She knew she had to keep it together. In this place, cool was king, emotions were weak, and everything you did mattered.
She took another breath, this one deeper than the last, feeling the city outside pulse beneath her, like some massive engine that never stopped. The familiar rhythm of New York had once excited her, fueled her ambition. Now it felt like background noise to the chaos from within.
“Get it together,” she whispered to herself, her voice soft, barely audible over the faint hum of traffic below. The words weren’t sharp but firm, like a hand on her shoulder guiding her back into focus. She needed to regain composure. There was no room for weakness, especially with her team relying on her.
She straightened, rolling her shoulders back as she stepped away from the window. Her hand drifted to the phone on her desk, her fingers hesitating for just a beat before she pressed the button to summon her assistant. Moments later, a quiet knock at the door preceded the entrance of Claire, her assistant, who slipped into the office with her usual grace.
Claire’s calm presence was a welcome change from the chaotic office environment. Dressed in a sleek navy blazer and trousers, with her hair pulled back in a neat bun, she was the embodiment of calm efficiency. Her eyes met Harper’s, and without a word, she knew something was off.
“Claire, could you gather the team for a quick meeting in the main conference room?” Harper asked, her voice steady now, the calm mask firmly back in place. She smoothed a hand over the front of her blouse, brushing away invisible creases, a gesture that gave her just a moment more to collect herself.
Claire nodded. “Right away. Anything specific I should tell them?”
“Just that I want to go over the client’s feedback,” Harper said, her smile professional but tight around the edges. “I’ll explain the rest once everyone’s there.”
Claire gave a small nod, her eyes flicking over Harper as if assessing her state. Harper could see her assistant was ready to ask more, to offer help, but Claire, always insightful, knew it wasn’t the right time to press for details. Without another word, she disappeared from the office, leaving Harper alone once again.
As the door clicked shut, Harper turned back toward her desk, bracing herself against its edge. Her reflection in the darkened screen of her laptop stared back at her, the faint outline of her own face barely visible but enough to remind her of the tension beneath the surface. She knew this dance well: the struggle to balance her creative passions with the relentless pressures of her corporate job. It wasn’t just about one lost campaign or a single rejected idea; it was the constant erosion of everything that had once made her feel alive in this job.
Every compromise, client demanding imitation, and buried vision weighed heavily on her.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. A message from Claire: The team’s ready in the conference room.
With a final exhale, Harper pushed off the desk, grabbed her tablet, and exited the office. As she walked down the hallway, the hum of chatter from the other rooms bled into the air. Some part of her envied the other teams, their smaller campaigns perhaps less glamorous, but free of the constant scrutiny of major clients. They could experiment, to innovate, while she had become a master at the art of the compromise.
She reached the glass doors of the main conference room and paused just for a beat before pushing them open. Her team, a tight-knit group of designers, copywriters, and strategists, their faces a blend of anticipation and, maybe, a touch of apprehension, surrounded the sleek table. They’d seen this look before; they knew what was coming.
“Hey, everyone,” Harper said as she entered, her voice carrying a brightness she didn’t feel. She walked to the head of the table, setting her tablet down with a soft thud. “Thanks for coming together so quickly.”
There was a murmur of acknowledgment, but the room was heavy with anticipation. They had all been part of the brainstorm sessions for the Knox campaign, and had poured themselves into pitches that Harper had proudly led, believing, for a moment, that this time might be different. Maybe, just maybe, the client would finally want something that broke the mold and let them be truly creative.
But as Harper stood before them, she felt that tiny spark of hope flicker out.
“I just got out of the meeting with Steven Knox and his team,” she began, her tone carefully measured. “The bad news is they’re not interested in pursuing our original concept.” With a moment of silence, she watched her team’s faces transform from hopeful to defeated, then to barely concealed irritation.
“We pushed for something fresh, something unique,” she continued, feeling the weight of their disappointment echo her own. “But they want us to, well …” She hesitated, her throat tightening as the next words came out. “They want something that mirrors what another brand is doing.”
There was a palpable silence in the room. The frustration and bitterness of the group were almost audible. Harper forced herself to keep her voice steady, even though the rejection felt personal, even though the creative fire in her was already sputtering again.
“They showed us a campaign that’s … safe,” she added, struggling to keep the bitterness from creeping into her tone. “They want something tried and true, something that works.” Her words felt bitter and hollow, but she forced a smile, a tight, controlled one because that’s what a leader was supposed to do.
She could see the frustration ripple through the team. Jason, one of the copywriters, ran a hand through his hair, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sarah, the lead designer, folded her arms, her fingers tapping against her sleeve, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“So they want us to copy and paste someone else’s work, essentially?” Sarah asked, her voice flat but edged with irritation.
Harper felt a pang of guilt. Sarah had poured herself into the design concepts, had stayed late for days, tweaking the visuals until they were exactly right. Jason, too, had delivered some of his best copy in months. They had all believed in the campaign.
“It’s not ideal,” Harper admitted, her hands resting on the back of the chair in front of her. The words “It’s not right” hovered on the edge of her lips, itching to be spoken. It’s not creative. It’s not why we’re here. But she smoothed over the edges of her frustration and added, “But it’s what the client wants, and at the end of the day, our job is to give them something they’ll approve. Something that works.”
Another silence followed. She hated having to tell her team their work was useless. They were back to square one, doing another blah project because the client was too scared to do anything interesting.
“We’ll pivot,” Harper said, injecting a touch of optimism into her voice, though it felt forced. “We’ll embrace their preferences but put our own spin on it, creating something polished that still feels uniquely us. It’ll all work out.
But even as she said it, Harper could see the disappointment etched in the lines of their faces. It was a look she knew well, one she’d sported herself countless times in recent years.
As the meeting wrapped up, the team gathered their things, exchanging glances and murmured goodbyes as they filtered out of the room, their energy noticeably deflated. Harper stood at the head of the table, absently flipping through her notes on the tablet, her mind already racing with how they could salvage the campaign. The pressure was mounting, a familiar weight settling onto her shoulders.
Gradually, her team dwindled until only one person remained. Jason, her longtime copywriter, lingered at the door, his brow furrowed in thought. He hung back for a bit, unsure if he should talk, then breathed in and went back into the room.
“Hey, boss,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, and Harper looked up from her tablet. Jason’s unusual tone made her wary, as he was normally the one who could always find a silver lining in any situation. The look in his eyes had changed, becoming heavy and serious.
“Jason, what’s up?” Harper asked, trying to keep her own voice light, though she could feel a knot forming in her stomach. The meeting, the client’s rejection, and the deadline all piled up on her, and she felt an impending crisis.
A sigh escaped Jason’s lips as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, moving closer to the table and tracing the edge of a chair with his fingers. He looked down at the polished surface momentarily, as if searching for the right words, before finally meeting her gaze.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” he said, his voice steady but laced with exhaustion. “It’s like … every time we put our hearts into something, it gets shut down, or watered down, or turned into something that isn’t even ours anymore.” His eyes flicked toward the door, making sure the rest of the team was gone before he continued. “I think it might be time for me to look for something else.”
The words hit Harper like a punch to the gut, but she kept her expression neutral, hiding the sudden surge of panic that flared in her chest. Jason had been with her for years, one of the few people she trusted implicitly, someone who understood the creative process as well as she did. She wasn’t certain she could cope with losing him, not just as a talented copywriter but also as a trusted confidant.
“Jason …” Harper started, her mind already scrambling for a response, something to reassure him, to convince him that things would get better, even though she wasn’t sure she believed it herself. She let out a breath, leaning on the back of the chair. “I know it’s frustrating. Believe me, I feel it, too. But we’re in a rough patch right now. All campaigns come with their share of obstacles.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just a rough patch, is it?” Jason interrupted gently, shaking his head. “It’s been like this for months, maybe even years. We keep getting told to aim for the stars, but then the clients yank us right back down to earth every single time. It feels like we’re not creating anything anymore. Just … filling orders.”
Harper clenched her jaw, feeling the truth in his words hit hard. He wasn’t wrong. The creation process didn’t match the aspirations they had when they started out in the industry. What had once been an exciting challenge to break boundaries had become a monotonous routine of pleasing clients who didn’t want innovation, only predictability. And it was draining.
Jason’s eyes softened as he looked at her, reading the tension she was trying so hard to mask. “Look, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you, Harper. You’ve been a great boss, and you’ve always fought for us. But I’m getting burned out. And I know I’m not the only one.”
A fresh wave of stress crashed over her, adding to the already heavy load she was carrying. The idea of losing Jason, or anyone else from her team, felt like another brick being placed on her chest, making it harder to breathe. The issue extended beyond simply replacing a skilled writer; it involved the departure of a rare individual who continued to champion their work in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges.
“I get it,” Harper said, her voice quieter. She could hear the exhaustion in her tone, the same exhaustion Jason was feeling. “I really do. And I wish I had a better answer for you right now. I wish I could tell you that the next client will be different, that we’ll finally get to create something real again.”
Jason’s lips quirked up in a small, sad smile. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Harper. I just … I don’t want to feel like I’m giving up, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep giving everything, just to have it shot down repeatedly.”
She nodded, feeling a deep pang of understanding in his words. Overworked and depleted, she had been pushing herself beyond her limits for far too long, juggling deadlines, appeasing clients, and striving to inspire her team. She was wondering if she could keep it up, either. The pressure was unrelenting, and no matter how hard she worked, it seemed like it was never enough.
“I’ll talk to the higher-ups,” Harper said finally, forcing herself to sound hopeful even though her chest felt tight. “Maybe there’s a way we can take on smaller, more creative projects between the bigger clients. Something to keep the spark alive.”
Jason’s smile was faint but grateful. “I appreciate that, Harper. I really do.” He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I’m not saying I’m gone tomorrow, but … I just wanted to be honest with you.”
“I’m glad you were,” Harper said, managing a smile of her own, even if it felt fragile. “Let me see what I can do. We’ll figure something out.”
Jason gave her a quick, reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading out of the conference room, leaving Harper standing in the quiet space, her thoughts swirling with new layers of stress. She lingered, staring at the empty chairs, letting the weight of Jason’s words settle.
How much longer could she keep this up?
The temptation to stay late tonight, to pour over the campaign until she figured out some way to make it work, tugged at her. She could already see the emails piling up, the revisions she’d have to make, the endless cycle of compromise that awaited her. If she just stayed a few extra hours, maybe she could come up with a new angle, something that would appease the client while still giving her team a sliver of creative freedom.
But as she absently scanned her phone, a reminder pinged at the top of the screen, cutting through her work haze: “Dinner with Dan: 7:30 pm”.
Dan had always been her biggest cheerleader when it came to work. Early in their relationship, he’d stayed up late listening to her brainstorm ideas for campaigns, offering input when she asked, and pouring her another glass of wine when she didn’t. “You’re incredible,” he’d told her once, brushing her hair back from her face as she scribbled in her notebook. “You’re going to change the game, Harper Brooks.”
But lately, his encouragement had felt … muted. Tired. And she couldn’t really blame him. Work wasn’t fun anymore. She wasn’t chasing dreams; she was putting out fires.
Harper stood suspended between two worlds: the relentless demands of her job and the steadfast love of a man who had spent years waiting—perhaps too patiently—for her to finally put him first.
However, the pull of the office was strong. The thought of not staying late tonight was already prompting questions in her mind. What if I don’t solve this? What if we lose this client?
But a gentler, persistent voice asked: How long before Dan stops waiting for me to choose him the way he’s always chosen me?
She pressed the power button, darkening the screen it as she grabbed her bag and headed out of the conference room, determination settling over her like a mantle. Tonight, work will need to wait.
The countdown to March 31 is on—are you ready to dive in?
As Harper walks the tightrope between burnout and breakthrough, Sapphire Seas promises a powerful journey of rediscovery, longing, and emotional release—with just the right splash of romance.
If you’ve ever questioned whether you’re on the right path—or found yourself wondering what you’ve sacrificed along the way—Harper’s story will speak straight to your soul.
The full novel arrives March 31, alongside Emerald Tide, Aidan Murphy’s companion story. Together, their perspectives tell a love story deeper than any single point of view could capture. Preorder today, and join us next week for a blog that explores how to experience both books for the ultimate romantic escape.
