Category: Excerpt Reveal

Excerpt Reveal…The Rules of Dating A Younger Man by Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward

Title: The Rules of Dating a Younger Man
Authors: Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: September 15, 2024
Excited about Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward’s 
upcoming release, The Rules of Dating 
a Younger Man?
 
READ CHAPTER ONE NOW!
Copyright © 2024 by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward

I looked down at my cell and shook my head.
“Why the long face?” My buddy Colby walked back into the kitchen and tossed me the keys to his car. “I didn’t think single guys with no kids and fat bank accounts had anything to stress over.”
I caught the keys. “Bite me.”
He chuckled. “No, really. Is everything alright? You were grumbling at your phone the other day when I walked into the elevator, too.”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Except one of the volunteers on the renovations team for the new Ryan’s House project is driving me nuts. You know how we pick two team leaders to help coordinate things on each job?”
Colby nodded. “One for the mechanics—electrical, plumbing, heating, and stuff, and one for interior design—paint, flooring, fixtures, and appliances, right?”
“Exactly. This dude Alex is the design team leader. He’s driving me nuts with his suggestions. He questions every fixture, appliance, and molding I’ve picked out. Today he wants to change the living room paint color by a shade—a freaking shade. I couldn’t even see the difference between the two paint samples online. Now he just asked if we could meet for dinner tonight to go over a few last-minute changes he’d like to make.” I shook my head. “No way am I doing that. It’s a good thing you clowns are coming up this weekend to help out, because I have a feeling this guy’s going to test my limits.”
Colby made a pouty face. “Awww… Brayden has trouble working with others.”
I shook my head, but smiled. “I don’t know why I tell you shit.”
“Probably because no one else wants to listen to you.”
“Ouch.”
He laughed. “What time you getting on the road today?”
“Probably about two. I need to stop by the office and pick up a project I’ve been working on for a kid. He’s in the hospital upstate again, so I’m going to drop by to visit over the weekend and surprise him with it.”
“What did you make this time?”
I grinned. “You know I don’t give hints about my masterpieces before the unveiling. I told his family I’d come by Sunday. If you knuckleheads are still around, you should join me.”
“Sounds good.”
I held up Colby’s car keys. “Thanks again for the car swap. Mine is too small to fit baseboard heating covers.”
“Anytime you want to swap my ten-year-old, beat-up SUV for your hot little six-month-old Porsche, I’m in.” He grinned. “I’m going to have a good-ass time driving that thing upstate Saturday morning.”
I opened the door. “Don’t get arrested for going a hundred and twenty.”
***
Later that night, I checked into the hotel up in Seneca Falls and decided to go down to the lobby bar for a drink. It was empty, except for a woman sitting alone. She had a drink in front of her, and a full glass of wine sat at the empty stool beside her, so I assumed she must be here with someone. I took a seat along the short side of the bar to give them some privacy.
But damn… Sitting here gave me an even better view of the woman, and she was a total knockout—sandy blond hair, big blue eyes, and high cheekbones that led down to a full set of lips. She might’ve been a few years older than me, but that didn’t stop a rush of adrenaline from giving my body a good jolt.
The bartender walked over and dropped a napkin in front of me. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a whiskey sour. Any chance you have Russell’s Reserve Ten-Year bourbon to make it with?”
The bartender’s brows pulled together, and he thumbed to the woman sitting alone. “You with her?”
“No, why?”
He shrugged. “She just ordered the same drink. That brand of bourbon and all.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
I glanced over again and lowered my voice. “She alone?”
“Is now. Some guy sidled up to her when she came in a few minutes ago, but he left pretty quickly with his tail between his legs.”
Alrighty then. “Any chance you guys serve food here?”
“Sure do. I’ll grab you a menu.”
Even though I now knew she was alone, I wasn’t too enthused about striking up a conversation with the pretty blonde. Not after she’d just chased another guy away. But when the bartender brought my drink and she looked over, I raised my glass.
“Apparently we ordered the same drink.”
“Whiskey sour?” she asked.
“With Russell’s Reserve Ten-Year.”
She smiled and held up her glass. “To good taste.”
I tipped my glass to her. A minute later, my phone buzzed with a call from Colby. I swiped to answer. “I hope you’re not calling to tell me you dented my car already.”
“No, but how the hell do you put the top back up?”
“You know the button you pushed to drop it?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the same button to put it back up. You just need to hold it for ten seconds.”
“Crap. Okay, thanks.”
“Where the hell are you that you have the top down?”
“I got a sitter and took my wife for a drive. The wind in our hair is making us feel young and free, instead of like the parents of two little kids we are, usually in bed by eight.”
I chuckled. “Well, enjoy it.”
“I plan to. Why do you think I need the top up? I just pulled into a quiet rest stop, and I need a little privacy, if you know what I mean.”
“Ugh. Don’t tell me that, dude. I don’t want your bare ass all over my seat.”
“No promises, my friend.”
I shook my head. “God, I hate you. Goodbye.”
After I hung up, the knockout looked over. “I’m not usually rude, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” she began. “I once bought a new car. When I picked it up, I found an empty condom wrapper on the floor of the front seat. I made them give me another car.”
I smiled. “My buddy and I swapped vehicles for the weekend. I’m considering keeping his crappy ten-year-old hunk of junk and letting him keep my nice, new one after his ass cheeks have rubbed all over the leather.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Unless…”
“What?”
“What if your friend has a penchant for car sex? I’m afraid that would mean he’s already done it in the one you’re driving.”
I pointed. “Good observation. I’ll just get mine detailed.”
The beautiful woman smiled again, and I found myself wondering if she had lipstick on or if her lips were naturally that color. They were just a little more pink than the fleshy red I’d expect for someone with her skin tone. Or maybe she wore some sort of gloss, because they were also perfectly shiny.
After a much-too-long analysis, I realized I probably looked like a creeper staring at her mouth and diverted my eyes to the menu the bartender had dropped off. Though I still couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances in between reading about the appetizers. There was something compelling about her. It might’ve been that her face wasn’t painted to fake-perfection like most women these days.
A few minutes later, I looked over and noticed her glass was empty. So I took a chance. “Can I buy us another round?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Ummm…”
I held my hands up. “It’s just a drink. I won’t invite myself over to the empty seat next to you.”
She smiled. “Sure. Why not? Thank you.”
I held two fingers up to the bartender. “Another round for both of us. On me, please. And when you get a chance, I’ll take an order of the Mexican street corn chicken tacos.”
“Oh, gosh,” the woman said. “I love Mexican street corn. That sounds delicious.”
“Oh, so now you want me to buy you drinks and dinner?”
She waved her hands. “Oh, no, I wasn’t suggesting—”
I smiled. “I’m teasing.” I looked back at the bartender. “Make that two orders of the tacos, please.”
“You got it.”
“Well, now that you’re buying me food and a drink, I feel obligated to offer you the vacant seat next to me.”
“Oh, no. There’s no obligation, really.”
She grinned. “I’m teasing, too.”
I laughed, but I also got up and walked over to her. “Is this seat taken?”
“It’s not. But I can’t promise no bare butts have been on it.”
“I’ll risk it.” I sat and held out my hand. “Brayden.”
“Alexandria. Nice to meet you, Brayden.”
“You, too. Are you a guest at this hotel, or just came in to flirt with a guy and get him to buy you dinner and drinks?”
She smiled. I liked that she could take a joke. “I’m staying here. You?”
“Same. What are you in town for?”
“I’m volunteering for a charity that renovates houses near hospitals for patients who can’t afford a hotel while they’re getting cancer treatment.”
My jaw fell open. “Are you serious? You’re volunteering for Ryan’s House?”
“You know it?”
“I’m the founder. But once a year, I also volunteer to swing a hammer. This is my once.”
“Really?”
“Let me get this straight. We drink the same drink, both love street-corn tacos, both dislike ass imprints on our car seats, and we’re volunteering for the same project? Do I just propose now? Or should I wait and see if you love candy corn as much as I do?”
Her eyes sparkled. “I love candy corn.”
I covered my heart with my hand. “Alexandria Foster. It even has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
The bartender interrupted our love fest to deliver our drinks. When he walked away, we were both still smiling.
“So you really founded Ryan’s House?” Alexandria asked. “How did that come about?”
“Almost a decade ago, I lost one of my best friends to leukemia. Ryan and I were both engineering students in college when he started treatments. He spent a lot of time in the hospital and became interested in designing prosthetics with more flexibility. We started working on ideas together to pass the time during my visits. After he passed away, I continued with some of the concepts we’d come up with. Long story short, a couple of years later, I got a patent on a new type of prosthetic joint simulator. It’s licensed to most major artificial-limb manufacturers now. I tried to split the profit with Ryan’s parents, but they wouldn’t take anything. So his half goes toward buying the houses we renovate each year for Ryan’s House.”
“That’s incredible.”
I sipped my drink. “How about you? Are you just volunteering, or is there a story behind why you picked Ryan’s House to donate your time?”
Alexandria smiled sadly. “I lost my husband a few years ago to leukemia.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. He was older than me, but still way too young.”
“Is this your first time volunteering, or did you work on another of the houses?”
“It’s my first time. To be honest, I’m kind of nervous about it.”
“What’s there to be nervous about?” I asked.
“I don’t have too much construction experience.”
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll make sure you’re on the good team then.”
“I didn’t realize there was a good team and a bad team.”
“Usually there isn’t. But we split the volunteers into two crews, each with a team leader who coordinates who does what and makes sure we have the supplies and stuff. One of the team leaders is a real pain in the ass, a know it all. He wants to change everything that’s been planned before we even start. He’s definitely going to micromanage his crew.”
“Oh, wow. Okay. Thank you.”
“We usually just count off the volunteers who show up to give each team an equal number. But I’ll make sure you’re in Jason’s group and not Alex’s.”
“Oh. So Alex is the pain in the ass?”
“Giant pain in the ass.”
The bartender walked over with our food. It looked as delicious as it had sounded on the menu. Conversation slowed as we dug in, but I enjoyed the quiet with the company sitting next to me. After we finished eating, I turned to ask Alexandria something, but I lost track of what I was saying three words in. Her eyes were that mesmerizing.
“What?” She wiped at her cheek. “Do I have sauce on my face?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, no. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you are absolutely beautiful. I’m relieved I got to sit next to you because I couldn’t stop myself from staring when I was sitting over there.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Thank you.”
Both our drinks were almost empty again, so I motioned to the glasses. “You want another one?”
“I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Disappointment flooded through me. I hoped I hadn’t upset her with my compliment.
Alexandria motioned to the bartender. “Could I close out my tab, please?”
“Sure thing.”
He walked away and came back a minute later. I was still trying to decide if I should apologize. Maybe I’d been too forward?
She signed the check and hopped down from the stool.
“Listen, Alexandria. I didn’t mean to upset you by saying how beautiful I think you are. I apologize if that came off creepy.”
“No, that wasn’t what insulted me.”
“That wasn’t? So something else I said insulted you?”
She looked at me a moment. “Such a shame. Because I find you attractive, too.”
“I’m confused. Why is that a shame?”
She shook her head. “Goodnight, Brayden. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and you don’t have to worry about which team I’m on. I’m happy on Alexandria’s team.”
“Alexandria’s team?”
“Oh. Did I say Alexandria’s team? I meant Alex’s team. I go by both names. Alexandria is my given name, after my grandmother. Alex for short.”
***

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BLURB

I was the last of my group of friends to find “the one.”

The guys would always tease me that I needed to hurry up and settle down.
But I was in no rush.
Until I met someone worth rushing for.
Alex was one of the weekend volunteers at Ryan’s House—a charity I founded to build housing near hospitals.
Little did I know she was the same person I’d been arguing with over email before the project started. At the time, I’d thought Alex was a dude.
In reality? She was a smoking hot blonde who captivated me from the moment we met in person.
Our chemistry was off the charts, and I fell hard pretty fast.
Unfortunately, Alex insisted I was too young for her. I hated that she felt that way. Because age was just a number.
Not only that, her words didn’t match the way she looked at me—like she was very interested.
I lived for the weekends we’d spend out of town volunteering. Alex and I side-by-side hammering during the day, while sharing intimate dinners together at the hotel at night.
Eventually, the walls she’d put up to protect her heart began to crumble.
Until fate threw us a doozy that I wasn’t sure we could come back from.
If I’d thought our age gap was the biggest hurdle, I didn’t know anything yet.
Rule number one for dating an older woman who insists you could never be together?

Don’t fall in love.

VI KEELAND

Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

PENELOPE WARD

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With millions of books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

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Sneak Peek…The Rocker’s Muse by Penelope Ward

Title: The Rocker’s Muse
Author: Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Tropes: Rockstar/15-Year Age Gap/Small Town
Found Family/Slow Burn/Forbidden
Release Date: August 26, 2024
BLURB
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new, STANDALONE novel…
No one but me knew why I was actually in the California desert that day.
Nestled deep within the desolate, rocky area was a recording studio.
When a door suddenly opened, a man mistook me for someone he was supposed to be interviewing for a job.
The next thing I knew, I was whisked inside.
The position? An assistant on the upcoming tour for one of America’s most famous rock bands.
Pretty exciting opportunity for a twenty-two-year-old, just out of college.
Not surprisingly, I bombed the interview.
When I ended up mistakenly walking into the men’s room on my way out, I struck up a conversation with a stranger—not realizing it was the lead singer, Tristan Daltrey.
He seemed to like the fact that I had no idea who he was, that I saw him as a normal person.
That night, I got a call offering me the job.
So began my complicated story with Tristan.
Millions of women loved him.
Yet for some reason, after the shows, he only wanted to hang out with me.
Late-night talks. Casual dinners in his hotel room.
I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the band’s frontman.
Despite our fifteen-year age difference, Tristan and I had a connection.
But I had a secret.
One that would eventually lead to my leaving the tour.
And one that would lead Tristan and the band straight to the small town where I came from.
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Both the Kindle version and model-cover paperback will go live on/around release day. 
The current paperback preorder is for the special-edition, floral cover only.
WHAT YOU CAN EXPECT
ROCKSTAR
15-YEAR AGE GAP
SMALL TOWN
FOUND FAMILY
SLOW BURN
FORBIDDEN
EXCERPT
Copyright © 2024
By Penelope Ward
I stayed close to the door as Tristan sifted through some stuff. There were a bunch of papers with handwritten words scattered on his bed. A leather jacket lay over a chair. He’d lit a candle on the bedside table—smelled like vanilla. This scene was a little different than I might’ve imagined in here. Much more Zen.
He zipped open a bag. “I guess you didn’t realize wrangling drunk assholes was part of your job?”
“Thankfully, it’s not, usually.”
“I kind of feel guilty now,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”
“What do you mean? The condoms weren’t for you…”
He froze for a moment. “Condoms?”
“That’s why I was over here. To drop off condoms for Atticus.”
“What a jackass.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what I meant was, you were nervous about taking this job to begin with. I told you nothing bad happens on tour. And then you ran into that situation tonight. I was the one who told Doug to hire you.”
I nodded as understanding dawned. “Thank you for putting in a good word, by the way. I wasn’t sure you remembered me. We haven’t spoken since the tour started.”
“Don’t take it personally. Tour’s just been crazy. I’ve been meaning to say hello. Just under different circumstances.”
I nodded. “Why did you tell them to hire me? You don’t even know me.”
“I liked that you didn’t know who I was. That was the first time in a long time someone’s looked me in the eyes and seen a normal person, not some musician they’ve made a million incorrect assumptions about.”
“I saw more than your eyes in that bathroom, unfortunately.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I’m just kidding. I was the idiot who walked into the men’s room. Served me right.” My eyes traced the ink at the base of his neck, just peeking out from his white T-shirt. “Anyway, I probably would’ve recognized you from the Internet if you hadn’t had that long beard.”
“That’s exactly why I had the beard. I grow one every recording season when we don’t have to perform. It helps me not be recognized in public. I hated having to cut it before the tour.”
“Makes sense.”
Tristan opened another drawer and finally pulled out the ibuprofen. “Ah! Got it.” He handed me two pills and a bottle of water.
“Thanks.” I cracked open the bottle and took a sip before downing the meds. “I’m surprised you’re alone tonight.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve heard you guys have a different girl every night on hotel stops.”
“Wow.” He scratched his chin. “A different girl every night. I think my dick would fall off. Where are you getting your information?”
“I don’t disclose my sources.”
He shrugged. “Some nights I just want to be alone. I do have to write music at some point, rest my voice, get sleep.”
I nodded. Now the papers scattered over his bed made sense. “You write a lot on the road?”
“I write whenever inspiration strikes, but being on the road is actually when I’m most creative. Late at night on the bus, when everything goes quiet? That’s what I like best about touring. That’s my favorite time to write.”
“That’s my favorite time of the day lately, too. There’s something so relaxing about staring out at the moving darkness.”
He cocked his head. “What do you do?”
“On the bus? Read or listen to podcasts…”
“Sorry, I meant in general. What do you do when you’re not held captive by a tour for four months?”
“Not much of anything, actually. I’m trying to find my place in the world at the moment. I just graduated from Nevada State University.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-two.” I’d googled his age but asked anyway. “How old are you?”
“Almost thirty-eight. Old as fuck, right?”
“You don’t look thirty-eight. I would’ve guessed, like, thirty.”
“What did you study at Nevada State? Blowing smoke up people’s asses?” He winked.
I laughed. “It’s true. You look younger. But I majored in communications.”
“Nice.”
I shrugged. “Well, it’s been challenging finding a job with such a broad degree.”
“You’re in a good position,” he assured me. “I envy you.”
“Envy me?” I drew my brows in. “Why?”
“You’re a blank slate with your whole life ahead of you. Some days I wish I could go back and start over.”
“Why would you want to do that? You’re a huge star. If you did even one thing differently, you might not be where you are today.”
“Where I am today isn’t all it’s chalked up to be.” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m very grateful for it all. But there’s always a price to pay for fame. Like giving up your privacy.”
“Yeah. I’m seeing that. You guys can’t go anywhere without being mobbed.”
“You clearly don’t give a shit who I am, though. I need that sometimes.” He smiled. “Your innocence is refreshing, Emily.”
Innocence? “I may be young. But I’m not innocent.” I scoffed.
“I don’t believe you. I can see it in your eyes. You’re innocent as hell.”
“You’re not a good reader of people, then.”
Tristan crossed his arms. “Tell me the worst thing you’ve done, and I’ll believe you.”
No one had ever asked me such a direct question before. And something about looking into this man’s eyes made me want to answer honestly.
So I did.
AUTHOR BIO
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With millions of books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over forty books. Her novels have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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Cover & Excerpt Reveal…Blue Jeans In Low Beams by Claire Hastings


BLUE JEANS IN LOW BEAMS

Hayes Family #1

by Claire Hastings


Release Date: July 18, 2024


Cover Design:

Y’all That Graphic


Photographer:

FuriousFotog


Model:

Andrew Flanagan


Genre: Contemporary Romance Standalone

Trope: Best friend’s little sister, age-gap, forced proximity, summer fling to forever, small town


Synopsis

It was a simple promise—watch out for my best friend’s little sister the same way I would my own.

Turns out, Brenna is a lot more grown-up than I realized. And a lot more beautiful. Which makes sharing an apartment with her this summer tougher than I expected.

Until she shares something with me. Something she’s never shared with anyone. Something that makes me want to step in and help.

Something that changes everything.

Soon enough, my wanting to be with her has nothing to do with that promise I made and everything to do with the undeniable spark between us.

It doesn’t matter that I’m more than a decade older than she is. Or what our small town thinks.

But Brenna’s time in Hickory Hills is limited, making everything more complicated.

The more time I spend with Brenna, the harder it is to stay apart. The more I want to convince her to stay.

I already broke my promise to her brother. But I will keep my promise to her.

Even if I break my own heart in the process.



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Excerpt

Milo smiles softly at me and I relax, reminding myself who this is. Who we are.

Roommates. Almost siblings. Who cares if he accidentally saw me naked and masturbating and now knows my deepest secret?

“Hi. Whatcha making?”

“Just mac ’n cheese.”

Just mac ’n cheese? Is this man crazy?

I drop my bag, kicking off my shoes and placing them at the mat by the door. Inhaling deeply, I walk into the kitchen, examining the baking dish sitting on top of the stove. Sure enough, this is the real deal. Multiple cheeses melted into and mixed in with a roux, before folded over pasta and topped with breadcrumbs. A quick glance down at the counter reveals a loaf of bread and food processer, meaning these breadcrumbs are real, not store-bought. Fuck, yes.

“Milo, there is nothing just about mac ’n cheese. Especially real deal mac ’n cheese. I know you know it’s my fave. Especially if that’s Hayes mac ’n cheese.”

He laughs, the deep vibrato making my insides feel just as gooey as that cheese. “It is.”

Fuck, I have died and gone to heaven. Hayes mac ’n cheese, made by a sexy-as-sin Hayes man? Yeah…I’m done for.

“It was your first day at your first big girl job. I figured that was worth celebrating.” He gives me a wink, turning away from me to put the dish in the oven.

My first big girl job? Well then, if Milo’s going to talk to me the same way he and Brandt did when they took the training wheels off my bike, then I’d say seeing me naked is irrelevant. Thank goodness.

“Seriously? Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you had better things to do with your afternoon.”

Milo shrugs his tattooed left shoulder, stepping into me, winking again. My insides melt a little more. This is dangerous.

“I wanted to. You deserve it.”

I sigh, my heart grateful for not only the gesture, but how much he cares. I’m lucky to have him in my life.

“Also, I was thinking.”

“Uh-oh, that’s dangerous,” I quip.

Milo chuckles, stepping in closer, the gap between us now no more than a foot. My pulse kicks into high gear, his musky scent filling my nostrils. I don’t know if that’s his cologne or deodorant or some soap, but damn, he smells good. So good it might fry my brain.

“Whatcha doin’ Friday?”

Friday? Ummmm…

“Errr…ahhh…studying?” I hope that’s the right answer.

“Take a night off.”

“Any particular reason?”

A list of possible answers rushes through my mind. The most likely is that he needs my help again at Pour Decisions. Which, if that’s what he needs, he can consider it done. I’m not only happy to help, but it’s the least I can do since I’m squatting in his apartment all summer.

“I’m taking you out.”

Record scratch—he’s what?

Milo must see the confusion register on my face, because he steps into me even more, this time, taking my hand.

“Let me start over. Brenna, would you like to go out with me on Friday?”

“Like a date?”

Like a date? Oh good gracious, who asks that? Like a date. Of course it’s not a date.

“Yes, like a date.”

I stand corrected.

“You want to take me on a date?” My voice squeaks, betraying me and my excitement.

Milo Hayes wants to take me on a date. Well, dear diary, your preteen fantasies are coming true.

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday—”

“Ugh, could we not?”

“No, we’re gonna. I hate to see you upset, always have. Yesterday was no exception. And I can’t fix everything in this world, but this, this I can. No, not fix. Because you don’t need fixing, Brenna. Change, that’s a better word. This I can change.”

“Milo, you don’t have to do this.”

“Bren,” he whispers, squeezing my hand. “This isn’t about have to, this is about want to. I want to take you. I want to show you what it’s like to experience a second date. And in order for there to be a second, there has to be a first. So, what d’ya say? Go out with me Friday night?”

My heart soars. Milo Hayes wants to take me on a date. How does a girl say no to that?

She doesn’t. That’s how.

I let my smile loose, a giggle escaping with it. I can’t help it. Because I’m giddy.

“I’d love to.”

“Good.”

He squeezes my hand again, keeping the small gap between us. Looking down at me, his blue eyes sparkle, upping my giddiness.

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

“You can ask.” He smirks. “But I’m not gonna tell you. It’s a surprise.”

Oh boy…

His smirk grows and he starts to lean in. My whole body is on high alert, calling out to the universe, trying to manifest something out of thin air. It’s not too much to also want a kiss, right? I mean, I did just get asked out.

Milo continues to lean, and I’m starting to think the universe might be listening to me.

At least until my phone goes off.

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About the Author


USA Today Best Selling Claire Hastings is a walking, talking awkward moment. She loves Diet Coke, gummi bears, the beach, and books (obvs). When not reading she can usually be found hanging with friends at a soccer match or grabbing food (although she probably still has a book in her purse). She and her husband live in Atlanta.


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Excerpt Reveal…So This Is War by Meghan Quinn

From USA Today and Amazon Charts bestselling author Meghan Quinn, comes a new coach’s daughter, workplace, forbidden standalone sports romance featuring the hockey men you can’t get enough of. This steamy, roommates-to-lovers romantic comedy will bring all the laughs while burning up the pages at the same time.

Releasing June 25th in all formats, check out the tropes and excerpt below and pre-order your copy today!

https://mybook.to/SoThisIsWar

🏒 Hockey
🏅 Coach’s Daughter
📝 Boss/Assistant
🏠 Roomies-to-Lovers
🔟 Age Gap
🔥 They Fight Fire with Fire
🛏 Forced Proximity
🚫 Forbidden
💙 He Falls First

About SO THIS IS WAR (Coming 6/25/2024):

Did I think I was going to fall for my coach’s daughter?

The answer would be no. 

I’m still unclear on how I got into this predicament in the first place. A year ago, I was a man with one thought on his mind, the redhead I met at a hotel bar. Twelve months later, I found her. 

Unfortunately for me, she not only happens to be my very off-limits coach’s daughter, but also . . . my new assistant and roommate. 

I don’t even need an assistant, but Coach Wood doesn’t take no for an answer. Add in him writing up tasks for his daughter, Wylie, to complete for me? Well, it’s his own form of sweet torture. We are talking tasks that I would never ask her to do. 

Tasks that make her despise me. 

Hate me. 

That make her utter four words that cause a shiver to crawl up my spine . . . Posey, this is war. 

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Read the Prologue Here!

**LEVI**

“I want him off my fucking team. Now!”

My testicles shrivel into dust as Coach Wood screams at Andie Lintour, the general manager for the Vancouver Agitators. 

Spittle flies off his lip. 

Eyebrows are slanted like knives, ready to strike. 

And the veins in his neck protrude, making me question if it will be his hands that choke me or the scary, pulsing veins. 

“Will, we can’t—”

“He was fucking my daughter! We can do whatever the hell I say.”

Did you wince? Because I did. 

I know what you’re thinking. Posey, you’re about to lose your life at the hands of your fuming, spitting, hulking-out coach. And your assessment of the situation is a fair and accurate one. 

Because yes, I’ve never felt closer to death than at this moment right now. 

To bring you up to speed, yes, I was fucking his daughter.

Yes, it was in the locker room. 

Yes, it was out in the open where anyone could walk in. 

Was it stupid? Absolutely. 

Have I lost my mind? One hundred percent. 

Do I have any defense? Not one. 

Nope, this was pure stupidity. This was a move by a desperate man brought to his knees. 

A weak man. 

A man with no morals. 

A man infatuated with a woman he can’t control himself around.

“I understand the circumstances,” Andie says in her calming voice, “but we can’t get rid of a player because he was having relations with your daughter. Posey is one of the best defensemen in the entire league.” If I wasn’t so terrified, I’d puff my chest. “He’s under a no-trade clause. Even if we wanted to get rid of him, we couldn’t.”

I’m not sure if I should be grateful for that clause because, at the moment, it wouldn’t hurt to at least escape the darkness of death clouding Coach Wood’s expression. 

“Then he’s benched,” Wood says as he looks me in the eyes, nostrils flaring. “Did you hear that, you bologna-loving motherfucker? You’re benched.” 

I swallow deeply as I dig my fingertips into the armrests of my chair. Not sure why he had to drag the bologna into this, but I don’t bother asking as the vein in his bald head looks like it’s maxed out on stress. “I, uh, yes, I heard you the first time,” I say, causing him to grow angrier. 

“Once again, Will, I don’t believe we can do that. We pay him a lot of money—”

“We do.” Will paces his office, and every time he goes near me, my ass clenches in anticipation of a ninja knife hand right to my trachea. “We pay him plenty of money, so why don’t we just put him on the injured list, say he has a sore toe, and then he can figure out with his agent what he’s doing for next year because he sure as fuck won’t be playing on my ice.” 

Now, is Coach Wood being a touch extreme? Some might say yes without any context because who really wants to bench their starting defenseman? It’s not the smartest move as a coach, but the man has a good reason. 

And sure, I shouldn’t be taking his side. I should be defending myself and the ability to have sexual relations with anyone I damn well please, but here’s the thing . . . the situation runs a little deeper than what you see on the surface. 

It’s more complicated. 

I didn’t just fuck some random girl on an arbitrary day in our locker room. 

The coach’s daughter was riding me, completely naked, in the middle of the locker room after he struck a deal with me to hire his daughter as my assistant to teach her a lesson. 

And before you even ask, no, the lesson was not on the science of how the penis meets the vagina. 

It was a tough lesson about life. 

So yeah, this really is on me. 

**Raises hand** Yup, I take the blame. 

Guilty. 

The only question is, how the hell am I going to get around this? From the way he spoke so cruelly of my precious bologna, I don’t think offering him a daily sandwich—made by yours truly—is going to mend the severed ties we’ve created. 

Nope, this will take a monumental, epic proposal of apologies, especially if I want to stay on this team. Which I do. My boys are here. My life is here. 

She’s here . . .

Which means I need a plan. 

But I swore I wouldn’t get them involved. 

I said over and over again that I wouldn’t use their idiotic advice or poorly constructed ideas, but I think desperate times call for desperate measures. 

It’s time to call on the Frozen Fellas.

ABOUT MEGHAN QUINN:

USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

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Sneak Peek…The Surrogate by Penelope Ward

Title: The Surrogate
Author: Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Tropes: Age Gap/Widower/Found Family
Forbidden/Enemies to Friends to Lovers
Release Date: February 26, 2024
BLURB

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new, STANDALONE novel…

ABBY:

I’m falling for the father of the baby I’m carrying.
The problem is: it’s not my baby.
And the broody widower is not looking for a long-term partner.
As a surrogate, the deal was that I’d only be in England long enough to give birth.
At first, the man seemed as pretentious as his name: Sigmund Benedictus.
He and I butted heads.
Sig challenged my intentions, accused me of just wanting to do this for the money.
Gradually, he learned to trust me.
He even became protective.
Over time, our heated animosity turned into fiery chemistry.
I was falling in love with him.
But my time here had a limit.
I needed to protect my heart from the devastatingly gorgeous older man who’d end up breaking it.

SIG:

When my in-laws told me they wanted to use my dead wife’s eggs to conceive a grandchild, I wasn’t immediately on board.
They swore that on her deathbed Britney told them it was what she wanted—but only if I fathered the baby. Her parents insisted they would be the ones to raise it.
Against my better judgment, I agreed.
I vowed to keep my heart out of it, though.
I’d continue to pretend it wasn’t happening and live the empty, single life I’d become accustomed to the past five years since Britney died.
And despite the fact that a certain younger American named Abby Knickerbocker had awakened things inside me that I thought were long dead…
I most certainly wouldn’t fall in love with the surrogate.

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Both the Kindle version and man-cover paperback will go live on/around release day. 
The current paperback preorder is for the special-edition cover only.

WHAT YOU CAN EXPECT

AGE GAP

WIDOWER
BRITISH HERO
FOUND FAMILY
SLOW BURN
FORBIDDEN
ENEMIES-TO-FRIENDS-TO-LOVERS

EXCERPT
Copyright © 2023

By Penelope Ward
My phone rang, and I looked down to find it was Lourdes, a woman I’d hung out with over a year ago. She’d been texting me lately to get together, and I’d been ignoring her messages. I silenced the ringer.
“Who was that?” Abby asked.
“Someone named—none of your business.”
“A woman? Is that why you’re in such a rush to get back to London?”
“Trust me, I haven’t met anyone worth rushing anywhere for.”
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Picky.”
I rolled over a bit to face her, resting my chin on my hand. “You think it’s odd to be selective?”
“I don’t think you’re being selective. I think you’re closed off to everyone. There’s a difference.”
“You seem to have me pegged, but what about you? Why are you single?”
“I had a bad experience, as I think I’ve mentioned, and haven’t felt like having my heart toyed with again.”
“How long ago was that? The guy who broke up with you…”
“Nearly three years now.”
“But you’ve dated since that breakup.”
“Yeah. There’ve been a few brief…”
“Hookups?” I arched a brow.
“I guess I can admit that now that you’re not actively assessing my character.”
“Why would I judge you for that? Sex is natural—necessary for survival, if you ask me.”
“You just don’t want to have anything to do with the women after.”
Unable to deny it, I shrugged. “There haven’t been that many women since Britney. At least nothing compared to when I was younger. Most of the time, I meet someone and decide not to go through with anything. But of the encounters I have had, yeah, it’s never mattered whether I saw them again.”
“What was different about Britney? I mean, when you met her? How did you know she was the one?”
My chest constricted. “I’d love to be able to give you a less cliché answer—because I hate clichés—but I just knew. After about an hour together, I never wanted to be apart from her.”
“Fair enough. They say that’s what happens sometimes. You just know.”
“You’ve never experienced that?”
“Nope.” Abby shook her head. “Still waiting for it to happen to me.” She smiled. “Anyway, for the record, I don’t just hook up with people randomly, like some people.” She elbowed me. “I have to know them first.”
“Knowing you, Abby, I can’t imagine you not asking someone a million questions before you sleep with them.”
“Well, yeah. I need to know who I’m dealing with. I’m not going to waste my time with anyone who’s not a good person—even if I’m wildly attracted to them.”
“Sometimes less is more,” I mumbled.
“This from the man who interrogated me the first time he met me.”
“Well, I need to know a bit more about someone who’s going to be carrying my child than I would someone I’m merely going to…”
“F*ck?” She finished my sentence.
The word on her tongue gave me an unwanted thrill. I wouldn’t have minded hearing her say it a few more times, which probably meant I needed my head checked.
“You wanna go?” she asked.
Somehow I’d forgotten my urgency to leave. I’d become pretty comfortable in this spot on the hay. It wasn’t about the hay at all, though, was it?
“Well, now you’ve made me lazy. You’re a bad influence, Knickerbocker.”
She leaned her head on her hand. “Why don’t you just sleep at the inn tonight? Lavinia loves your company.”
“She’ll be conked out by the time we get back there, but I suppose you have a point. At this hour, I might as well just drive into London with you in the morning.”
“You keep work clothes at The Bainbridge, right?”
“Yes. I have everything I need in my room.” I looked out through the barn door. It was now completely nightfall. “Now that it’s dark, you need to be careful driving back.”
“You’ll be behind me anyway, in case I run into trouble, right?”
“Well, you won’t find me driving in front of you ever again,” I teased.
“Good one.” She laughed as she stood and brushed off her dress. “Can you turn around for a minute?”
I narrowed my eyes but did as she asked. “Okay…why am I doing this?”
A few seconds passed. “All good now.”
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“You promise not to make fun of me?”
“No. But tell me anyway.”
“I had a piece of hay stuck in my underwear.” She flashed a goofy smile.
And then…I laughed for what felt like the first time in years.

AUTHOR BIO

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over forty books. Her novels have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

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Prologue…Damaged Goods by L.J. Shen

Underneath the goody-two-shoes persona is damaged goods…but can the bad boy across the street save her?

Damaged Goods, an all-new angsty, enemies to lovers, sports romance from USA Today bestselling author L.J. Shen is now available!

Bailey Followhill is the perfect daughter.
Sweet. Charitable. Pretty. Control freak.
Not a hair out of place, not an inch out of line, she is everything her troublemaking sister Daria isn’t.
But when her A game turns out to be a lukewarm C- at Juilliard, Bailey’s picture-ready life starts fraying faster than the worn satin ribbons of her pointe shoes.
She’s becoming a piece of gossip.
The Troubled Child. A drug abuser.
No longer the girl her best friend once knew.

Lev Cole is so golden, he’s got the Midas Touch.
Prized quarterback. Football captain. Hottest guy in SoCal. A textbook cliché.
But with a girlfriend he doesn’t love and a career path he doesn’t value, Lev is coasting.
The only two things he cares about―Bailey and becoming a pilot―are out of reach.

But Lev is done being satisfied with the life others have chosen for him. He wants to pick his own cards. To demolish the seamless kingdom of lies his family stitched together on the ruins his mother left behind.

The question is, can he save his best friend and his dream before too much damage is done?

Start reading today!

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Keep reading for a look inside Damaged Goods!

PROLOGUE 

Lev 

Age fourteen 

I’m standing over my mother’s grave, wondering why the fuck my eyes are dry. 

I couldn’t look at the coffin back inside the church. Knight said she looked pretty. Calm. At peace. But also…nothing like herself. 

I squeezed my eyes shut the entire way through, the way I did when I was really little and went on spooky rides at theme parks. Now I’m freaking out because maybe I made a mistake, because it was the last time I could look at her face not through a picture. 

That’s the thing about losing someone—there are so many losses along the way that make up a big loss. 

No more cuddles in bed on rainy days.

No more heart-shaped fruit in my lunch box. 

No more singing lullabies to me when I’m sick, with me pretending I’m embarrassed and annoyed by it when actually Mom singing lullabies is the best thing to happen to this universe since sliced bread. 

Bailey is hugging me so close, my bones are about to dissipate to dust. She’s about four inches taller than me now, which is stupid and embarrassing and just my luck. My face is hidden deep inside her hair, and I pretend to cry because it seems rude and screwed up if I don’t. But the truth is, I’m not sad or gloomy or any of those things. I’m fucking pissed. Angry. Enraged. 

Mom’s gone. 

What if she’s cold? What if she’s claustrophobic? What if she is struggling to breathe? What if she’s scared? Reasonably, I know she isn’t. She’s dead. But logic isn’t my friend right now. Not even an acquaintance. Hell, I doubt I could spell the word in my current state. I feel like Bailey is physically keeping me together. Like if she loosens her arms around me, I’ll collapse into thousands of little marbles, scatter and disappear into the nooks and crannies of the cemetery. 

Everyone files back to their cars. Dad claps a shaking hand over my shoulder and steers me away from the grave. Bails reluctantly releases me. I clutch the tips of her fingers. She’s gravity. She’s oxygen. In this moment in time, she’s everything. 

Sensing my unspoken need for her, Bailey turns to my dad. “May I please catch a ride with you, Uncle Dean?” 

Thank you, Jesus. 

“Yeah, Bails, sure,” Dad says distractedly, laser-focused on Knight’s back. My brother is going through his own stuff right now and my dad is trying to ensure he doesn’t lose another member of our family. Usually, I’m cool with being the low-maintenance, “background” kid. Not today, though. I just lost my mom at fourteen. I want the world to stop, but it disrespectfully keeps on spinning and functioning like my life wasn’t just destroyed. 

Before we hop into the car, I clutch Bailey’s fingers and pull her to me. “If I told you I want to run away from here, somewhere really far, like…I dunno, Kansas far, what would you say?” 

Her big blue eyes hold mine like my eyeballs are about to fall off. “We ride at dawn, bitch.” 

“Really?” I ask. 

She nods once. “Try me, Lev. You’re my best friend. I’ll never let you down.” 

It’s weird, but the possibility of Bailey and me running away from all this is the one thing holding my ass together right now. She might be everyone’s good girl, but to me, she’s a bad addiction. 

The drive is silent. I’m a page torn out of a book. Out of place and floating aimlessly. All I have is the memory of once belonging. Then, we’re in front of my house. Everyone trickles inside in their black frocks. They look like ghouls. Home without Mom isn’t a home. It’s a pile of bricks and expensive furniture. 

Invisible ivy roots me to the ground. Bailey is the only one who notices. She loiters behind with me, and suddenly, I really hate that I’m putting all my dreams and hopes on her. Because she could be gone tomorrow too. Bus accident. Freak heart attack at fifteen. A kidnap-and-murder plot. The options are endless, and I have really shitty luck with people. 

“Kansas?” She grabs my fingers, playing them like they’re keys on a piano. 

I shake my head, too choked up to produce actual words. 

“We don’t have to go inside.” Her hands slide up to grab my arms and keep me standing. How did she know I’m close to falling? “We can hang out at mine. I’ll make fondue. We can watch South Park.” Her blues gleam like sapphires. 

Fresh irritation floods me. Bailey is being soooo understanding, even though she doesn’t understand jack shit. She does have a mom. A healthy one. And a dad. And a sister who isn’t an addict. Her life is perfect, while mine is a pile of calamities. 

She’s a blossoming flower, and I’m dirt, but that’s okay because the thing about flowers is they’re buried in dirt, so I know exactly how to cut her off. 

Shaking her off, I swivel and stomp my way out of our cul-de-sac. She races after me, calling my name. Her Mary Janes clap the ground urgently. 

“Lev, please! Did I say something wrong?” 

To be fair to her, she stood no chance at saying anything right. But screw being fair. I’m hurting, and she is baggage. Just another person to love and to lose. 

I pick up my pace, running now. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m eager to get there. The sky—completely blue just seconds ago—cracks like an egg. Thunder rolls, gray washes over it, and rain starts pouring in thick sheets. It’s summer in SoCal and shouldn’t rain. The universe is angry, but I’m angrier. 

Whenever Bailey manages to catch the sleeve of my shirt, I speed up, but even after thirty minutes of running in the rain, soaked to the bone, she doesn’t quit. Somehow, we find ourselves in the woods on the outskirts of town. The thick, tall branches and blankets of leaves intertwine together like laced fingers above us, creating a makeshift umbrella. I can sort of see my surroundings now, and it’s pretty and it’s calm and far enough away from that stupid cemetery. I stop running when I realize I’m not gonna escape the new reality: Mom’s dead. 

I finally understand the term heartbreak. Because that thing in my chest? Split open clean in two. 

I turn around, my lungs scorching. Bailey is pale and sodden, her black dress clinging to her body. Her lips are blue and her skin is so pale, I see a map of purple and red veins under her flesh. 

“Go home,” I growl. But I don’t want her to go home. I want her to never leave. 

She steps closer, tilting her chin up defiantly. “I’m not leaving you.” 

“Fuck off, Bailey!” I fold in half, screaming. I feel like she kicked me in the stomach. 

She’ll leave. She’ll let you down. Don’t fall for this, Lev. 

“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes are full of tears, and she flexes her fingers, itching to grab me. 

Hug me. 

Go away. 

Fuckfuckfuck.

My mouth opens again and more bullshit spews out. “Don’t be sorry for me. Be sorry for yourself. You’re the loser who hangs out with an eighth grader instead of people your own age.” 

“I wish it didn’t happen.” She ignores my insults, trying to grab my fingers again and play them like a piano, like she does every time I’m upset. 

Laughing, I rasp, “I wish you didn’t happen.” 

“I wish it were me who was dead.” Her face is covered with tears and pain and mud, and I can’t do this anymore. I don’t care how much I’m hurting, I can’t ruin the only good thing about my life right now. She gives me something to fight for when every cell of my body wants to give up. 

“Now you’re just talking outta your ass.” I spit phlegm between us.

She shakes her head, quivering fingers darting to her hair, massaging her scalp. I believe her. And it kills me that even though I feel like someone slashed me open and my guts are pouring out, I still wouldn’t want Bailey to be in Mom’s place. 

“I’m not. I’m serious. I would die before willingly watch you suffer.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Then I open my mouth and the most feral, scary, loud cry I’ve ever heard tears out of it. It echoes in the sky and bounces off the trees. A flock of ravens takes flight from the treetops. 

And then I go to the only place I need to be right now—I go mad.

For more information about L.J. Shen and her books, visit her website: 

https://www.authorljshen.com

Excerpt Reveal…What Happens At The Lake by Vi Keeland

Title: What Happens at the Lake
Author: Vi Keeland
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Trope: Grumpy-Sunshine
Release Date: January 15, 2024
Take a sneak peek at WHAT HAPPENS AT THE LAKE.
You know you want to…

She smelled like damn summer.

And it pissed me off.
Plus, I was tired from a shitty night’s sleep. I’d tossed and turned thinking about Little Miss Home Improvement wearing nothing but a pair of denim short overalls and work boots—no shirt, no socks, definitely no bra or underwear.
Josie hopped down from the last two steps on the ladder. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“No? So this is what? Your idea of a sparkling personality? I asked if your coffee was okay, and you grunted at me.”
“That wasn’t a grunt. That was a yes.”
Josie made a short, deep noise that sounded like a pig.
I arched a brow. “Is that supposed to be me?”
She made the sound again, this time adding some monkeylike arm movements and jumping around. “Gronk.”
“Cute.”
She jumped again. “Gronk. Gronk.”
I tried not to react, but she was just too damn adorable.
Josie pointed at my face. “There it is again. The elusive Mr. Grumpy Pants smile. It’s kind of…dare I say…nice.” She made an exaggerated gasping sound and covered her mouth. “Oh no. I hope it’s not too painful.”
“Alright, wiseass. I get the point. How about you take your oinking ass out front and grab one of the small two by fours I left on the porch? I’ll show you how to make an easy support to hold up the drywall while it gets screwed into the ceiling.”
Josie strutted to the door. The woman was wearing a white tank top and long, pale pink, flowy skirt to do construction. It looked like she was going on a picnic date, rather than hanging sheetrock—though the tank top hugged her in all the right places, and there was something about her collarbone that I couldn’t drag my eyes away from. She bent to pick up the wood out front, and the top of her tank gaped open, giving me a clear view down her shirt. I forced my head in the other direction, though my eyes managed to slant and continue looking.
“Jesus Christ,” I grumbled to myself. “I need to get the fu¢k out of here.”

★★★ 


Excited? We are too!

RELEASING
JANUARY 15th!

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AUTHOR BIO

Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria, Israel, and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

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Excerpt Reveal…The Rules of Dating My One-Night Stand by Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland

Title: The Rules of Dating My One-Night Stand
Authors: Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 12, 2023
Excited about Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland’s 
upcoming release, The Rules of Dating 
My One-Night Stand? 
Check out this SNEAK PEEK!

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”
“Were you jealous that I was out with another woman?”
Devyn looked away. “No.”
My lip twitched. “No, huh?”
“I wasn’t jealous.”
It was difficult to keep a straight face, because she was so clearly full of sh$t. But…if she wasn’t jealous, a few details wouldn’t bother her, right?
I sipped my wine and watched Devyn’s face. “Tarryn asked if I wanted to take her back to my place.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s nice.”
“We’ve had sex before. So I don’t think she wanted to sit on the couch and watch TV.”
Devyn’s face flushed red.
I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see her get pissed—admit she was damn jealous.
“Yeah, that Tarryn’s a real wild woman in bed. Last time she visited, we broke a lamp. Knocked it right off the end table from the bed bouncing around so much.”
I watched the muscle flex in her cheek, the same cheek that was turning a lovely shade of crimson. Yet she still wouldn’t look at me.
“Devyn?”
Her lips pursed as she stared straight ahead.
“Devyn?” I said louder.
“What?”
“Look at me.”
Her head whipped to face me, and she stared with daggers in her eyes.
I smiled. “It wouldn’t bother you if I…fu¢ked Tarryn?”
That did it.
She broke.
But she didn’t yell at me like I expected.
Not at all.
Instead, she smashed her lips against mine.
It caught me so off guard that I took a few seconds to catch up. By the time I did, Devyn was hoisting herself over, climbing me like a freaking tree.

Fu¢k yeah.

This.
This was the chemistry we’d had from the very start.
I grabbed her a$s with one hand, lifting her higher, and guided her legs around my waist, so lost in the moment that nothing existed in the world except this kiss.
Which was probably why I didn’t hear the door open…

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Rule number one for having a one-night stand: Don’t fall for the girl.

After a lengthy dating slump, I finally met someone who sparked my interest.
Well, first the sparks flew when we argued. Later in the evening those sparks ignited into something more.
I was drawn to Devyn, in a way I hadn’t felt in a really long time.
Needless to say, I was disappointed when she abruptly left after our amazing night together.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But she hadn’t even given me her number.
In a city with eight-million people, I figured I’d never see Devyn again.
So imagine my surprise when I knocked on the door of an apartment in the building I lived in, and none other than my one-night stand stood on the other side.
If I thought Devyn didn’t want anything to do with me before, that was nothing compared to how she felt after finding out I was the landlord and she was about to be evicted…
And that was just the first surprise that would rock my world when it came to the mystery woman in apartment 410.

PENELOPE WARD


Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance. 

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism. 
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

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VI KEELAND

Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
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Excerpt Reveal…I Could Never by Penelope Ward

Title: I Could Never
Author: Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Tropes: Forbidden Romance/Enemies to Lovers
Release Date: August 21, 2023
BLURB

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new forbidden, enemies-to-lovers story…

It all started with an unexpected phone call.
Two years after my fiancé passed away in an accident, his father died suddenly, leaving Brad’s adult, special-needs brother with no one to care for him.
The next thing I knew, I was on a cross-country drive to New Hampshire where I’d be moving in to look after Scottie until I could get him into a group home.
The last thing I ever expected?
I wouldn’t be taking care of him alone.
Josh Mathers, my fiance’s best friend—who also happened to be my sworn enemy—insisted he was the better person for the job. He told me to go back to California, and I told him where he could stick that demand.
Our disdain for each other wasn’t anything new. It dated back to a text I’d accidentally read years ago.
We hated each other. But we both loved Scottie, so neither of us budged.
Now we were living together in a tiny house—with one available bedroom. Thank goodness it was only temporary.
Over time, I realized the broody jerk I thought I knew was different than I’d imagined.
I found myself slowly growing attached to someone I once considered the enemy…and growing attracted to him.
Sure, both of us were guilt-ridden over Brad. We were also two grown people with pent-up frustration toward one another—stuck in a cabin in the woods.
But this was Josh.

I could never.

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EXCERPT
Copyright © 2023 by Penelope Ward

Josh sat at the table, casually having coffee as I walked into the house after my drive home from the salon. The smell of cigarettes emanated from him. He hadn’t smelled like that since the first day he arrived.
“Where’s Scottie?” I asked.
“In his room,” he answered without making eye contact.
I stated the obvious. “You smell like smoke.”
“Must be the firewood.” He brought his mug to his mouth.
“Bullsh*t. The pellet stove doesn’t emit any fumes.”
“Yeah. I caved and had one. Big deal.” He pointed toward the door. “I did it outside, though, while keeping an eye on Scottie through the window.”
“You’d been doing so well. What happened?”
He still wasn’t looking at me, and instead stared straight ahead. “Just human, I guess.”
Then something in front of him on the table caught my attention: pieces of ripped pages piled atop…my journal.
A rush of adrenaline shot through me. “Why do you have that?”
“It’s apparently your diary.”
“I’m quite aware of that.” My heart began to pound. “You were snooping in my room?”
He shot daggers at me. “Think, Carly. Of the two guys in this house, who is the one more likely to have been ransacking your room?”
“You were supposed to be watching him while I was at the salon,” I yelled.
“God forbid I take a piss in peace. Is it not bad enough that I’m showering with him now? Getting my balls tugged?”
I wanted to laugh, but this moment was far from funny.
“Scottie ripped those pages out?”
“The notebook is bright orange, like his iPad cover. Probably caught his attention. The drawer next to your bed was open, so he must have gone in there. I assume that’s where you kept it. Admittedly, I’d been letting him hang out in your room, but you sometimes do, too. I went to check on him, make sure he wasn’t doing anything bad, and found those pages strewn about.” A vein popped in his neck.
Josh was angry. Why? I should’ve been the angry one.
“Did you read it?”
“I only happened to see what was on the pages he ripped. I didn’t read anything else once I figured out what the hell it was.”
This is bad. Starting to sweat, I asked, “But how much did you see?”
He stood up from his seat and slowly approached me. With each step he took toward me, I took one back. When we could go no farther, he placed his arms on either side of me, leaning his hands against the wall. And I forgot how to breathe.
Fear. Arousal. Embarrassment. You name it, I was feeling it right now. Every emotion hit me at once.
His breath grazed my face. “How much did I actually see?” He paused. “Enough to know you think I’m an evil pig.”
Ugh. No. Now his anger made sense.
When he backed away, I walked over to the ripped pages on the table and sifted through them.
“It’s the last one, for reference,” he noted.
I read what I’d written the other night.
AUTHOR BIO
Penelope
Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling
author of contemporary romance.

She grew up
in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a
television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son,
and beautiful daughter with autism.

With over two
million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author
of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen
languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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Excerpt Reveal…Fluke by Adriana Locke

 

 

FLUKE BY ADRIANA LOCKE

Release Date: April 10th

Genre/Tropes: Fake ex-husband / Small Town Romance / Friends to Lovers / One Bed / He Falls First

Fluke, an all-new small-town romance, by USA Today bestselling author Adriana Locke is coming April 10th!

CHECK OUT AN EXCERPT BELOW!

Pre-order this fake ex-husband, small-town romance TODAY!

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Add to Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61946841-fluke

 

 

 

 

EXCERPT

 

“Do you check your email?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Have you checked it today?”

“Uh, no. I’ve been working all day.”

She clears her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “May I ask you to let me see your emails, please?”

Excuse me?

I press my lips together, curiosity getting the best of me, and pull my phone out of my pocket.

“Jess?”

“No, you may not see my emails.”

Her hands go to her hips. “Please?”

“What are you up to, Pip?”

She reaches for my phone in a quick, bold move. Unfortunately for her, I’m quicker. I hold it up in the air and effectively out of her reach.

“Please, don’t look at them. At least not with me standing here,” she says, hopping a whole foot off the ground to try to reach the device.

I chuckle. “What did you do?”

“Give it to me.” She hops again. “Now.”

“Not a chance.” I swipe the screen and find my email app as she tries to tug my arm down. “Will you stop it?”

“Jess,” she says, fake crying. She stops hopping. “Wait.”

I laugh at her little pout. “You are so fucking cute.”

“I hate you.”

“You do not.”

The app opens, and I scan my inbox. It’s the third message from the top that catches my attention.

Plum, Pippa Re: SEEKING AN EX-HUSBAND

 

 

Blurb:

 

SEEKING AN EX-HUSBAND

 

I need a fake ex-husband.

Let me explain …

I may have let it slip to my new co-workers that I have an ex-husband. Now they’re fascinated with the details, specifically with him.

Why wouldn’t they be? He’s gorgeous, has exceptional skills in the bedroom, and is determined to win me back.

But there’s a problem. He doesn’t exist.

The bigger problem? I have to produce him to save my job.

This is where you come in.

I’m seeking someone to play a smitten ex-husband for two weeks. You’ll need to remember our love story—details matter when it comes to romance! Please be prepared to travel in-state at a moment’s notice. We may be in close proximity and sharing a bed may be required.

One more thing—kisses are required for optics as necessary.

If this sounds interesting or, at the very least, entertaining, let me know.

Signed,

Your Future Ex-Wife

 

Buckle up for a steamy adventure between friends-turned-lovers in this new “fresh twist on a favorite trope!” take on fake dating, close proximity, and romance in the workplace from USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Locke.

 

 

About the Author:

USA Today Bestselling author, Adriana Locke, writes contemporary romances about the two things she knows best—big families and small towns. Her stories are about ordinary people finding extraordinary love with the perfect combination of heart, heat, and humor.

 

She loves connecting with readers, fall weather, football, reading alpha heroes, everything pumpkin, and pretending to garden.

 

Hailing from a tiny town in the Midwest, Adriana spends her free time with her high school sweetheart (who she married over twenty-five years ago) and their four sons (who truly are her best work). Her kitchen may be a perpetual disaster, and if all else fails, there is always pizza.

 

Learn more at adrianalocke.com.

Connect w/Adriana:

Website: https://adrianalocke.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoradrianalocke

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/booksbyadrianalocke

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Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authoradrianalocke

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8379774.Adriana_Locke

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3ivy7xd

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/adriana-locke

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Excerpt Reveal…The Rules of Dating My Best Friend’s Sister

Title: The Rules of Dating My Best Friend’s Sister
Authors: Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 2, 2023
Excited about Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward’s 
upcoming release, The Rules of Dating 
My Best Friend’s Sister? 
Check out this SNEAK PEEK!
“What the hell?” He stood on the other side of the door. “Where’s the doorknob?”

I leaned down and spoke through the hole where the knob used to be. “It’s in here with me. The lock jammed, and the knob came off in my hands when I tried to pull it open.”
“Alright. Give me a minute. I need to run next door to get a screwdriver.”
“I have one now! I picked it up after the beeping incident, so I wouldn’t need to bug you again. It’s in the top drawer in the kitchen!”
“Okay, great. Hang on.”
Two minutes later, the door popped open. It wasn’t until I saw Holden’s face that I remembered I was only wearing a tank top and underwear, sans bra.
He gulped and took a long look before turning his head. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t dressed.”
I wasn’t the only one scantily clad. Holden had on only a pair of boxer briefs, his beautiful tanned skin and carved six pack on full display for my eager eyes, yet again. I couldn’t stop myself from staring. Silence ticked by until Holden turned his head back, probably to see why I’d grown quiet. “You oka—”
My eyes rose to meet his, but not before he’d caught me ogling him.
I shook my head and laughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I just hadn’t expected you to be in your underwear either, I guess. It caught me off guard.”
Holden ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m sorry if I checked you out, too.”
I should’ve just left the bathroom and covered up with a robe, but something about being near this man made me say and do things that were completely out of character. “Would you mind if I…looked a little more?”
Holden’s brows shot up to his hairline. “You want to check me out?”
My face heated. I shook my head and looked down. “Oh my gosh. I’m so embarrassed. I think the lack of sleep and stress from being locked in here made me a little bonkers. It’s just that maybe we both have some pent-up curiosity about what we look like as adults. I mean, I’ve only stolen glimpses of you without a shirt on since we were teenagers in my backyard pool. And you certainly haven’t seen me in a skimpy bottom and no bra since then. I guess I was thinking if we took a good, long look, once and for all, we might get it out of our systems.”
Holden stared at me. I could see the wheels in his head spinning. Eventually, his eyes dropped to my chest. “You have no bra on…”
I shook my head. “No bra.”
He swallowed. “Let’s do it.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Fuck yeah. I’m going to hell anyway. Might as well enjoy the ride down. But you have to stay in the bathroom, and I’ll stay on this side of the doorway.”
“Okay.” I bit my bottom lip. “You look first.”
“Why don’t we look at the same time?”
I nodded. “Good idea. How long should we do it for?”
Holden shrugged. “A minute?”
“Do you have your phone?”
“No. I thought someone broke in and you were being attacked. My phone was the last thing on my mind.”
“Mine should be on the coffee table. Do you want to grab it so we can use the timer?”
Holden walked away and came back ten seconds later. “What’s your code?”
“Zero, seven, one, three.”
He started to type and then froze before looking up at the ceiling. “That’s the day you’re getting married, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
Holden cursed as he went back to typing. “I’m so fucking going to hell.”
He called up the clock app and then turned the phone to show me. The countdown was set for one minute. His finger hovered over the green button. “You ready?”
I nodded.
Holden pressed the button, and we began to openly ogle each other.
Copyright © 2022 by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward
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From New York Times bestselling authors Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward comes a new standalone romance.

Rule number one for dating your best friend’s sister: Don’t.
Just don’t do it.
Especially when your best friend is dead and the last thing he made you promise him was that you’d keep an eye on his little sister, but not too good of an eye.
As a musician whose longest committed relationship was six weeks, I, Holden Catalano, was the last guy on Earth who should’ve been messing around with Laney Ellison.
The super smart girl whom I affectionately dubbed Lala since childhood was always off limits.
Though that didn’t stop me from thinking about her over the years, especially those times when the two of us would sneak out onto the roof and talk for hours after my buddy fell asleep. It was innocent, but I’d always held a torch for her.
After Ryan passed away, I vowed to always protect Lala. That included protecting her—from me.
Now all grown up and a scientist, Lala needed a place to stay when she accepted a temporary research position in New York. I thought I did the right thing by offering her an apartment in the building I co-owned with my three friends.
Except having her close by reignited all of those old feelings.
And things started to get complicated.
Especially since she was engaged.
And especially since, lately, I’d noticed something more in her eyes. Desire.
Lala didn’t exactly look at me like the platonic brother figure I was trying so desperately to be, even though I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything.
Yet, I was being good—on my very best behavior.
But you know what they say…all good things must come to an end, right?

VI KEELAND


Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
PENELOPE WARD


Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance. 

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism. 
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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