
Release Date: April 10th
Genre/Tropes: Fake ex-husband / Small Town Romance / Friends to Lovers / One Bed / He Falls First
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“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.
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Copyright © 2022 Penelope Ward and Vi Keeland
Never Look Back
An Enemies-to-Lovers, Close-Proximity, Second-Chance Romance from A.L. Jackson
Coming August 29th

Tension bound the room, and few words had been said, everyone’s attention rapt on the duel
going down.
Jarek tried to keep his expression neutral, the pompous prick with his slicked back black hair and
his careless confidence that had been given to him through his name rather than earned.
Like he was confident I would let him reach out and take what was mine.
Not ever again.
Even with the pungent arrogance, I saw the tick of his jaw, the flinch of his eyes, the sheen of
sweat that hinted at the edges of his brow and glimmered beneath the dull lights from the chandelier that
hung from above.
He glanced at his dwindling chips.
“Your father-in-law would be proud. If only he could see you now.” I couldn’t help but taunt it as
I rocked back in my chair. I did my best to ignore the presence that hovered over him from behind.
A presence that fanned out and teased me like a sinful, decadent dream. A dream that had once
been so beautiful it’d coerced me into believing there just might be something better in this life than
depravity and greed.
I glanced up in time to catch the worry that riddled those fire-agate eyes. The golden green with
flecks of red that were begging for something she didn’t deserve to be given.
Mercy.
I tore my attention from the lure of hers and watched as redness clawed at Jarek’s throat before
he started to push in the chips to meet the bet.
Aster gripped him by the shoulder. “Jarek, don’t do this.”
I had to wonder exactly what he had riding on the line. Why he was there. Why I could feel the
chinks in his armor coming apart.
Flinging off her hand, he cut her a hard glare.
“Don’t,” he warned.
The word was coated with his humiliation. With desperation.
Ah.
There was the chink.
Weakness wept through the powerful persona.
Reluctantly, Aster withdrew her hand, and her delicate throat trembled as she swallowed. She
lifted that stoic chin that I’d caressed more times than I could count.
Okay, fine.
That was a goddamn lie because I remembered every fucking touch. Every glance. Every broken
promise she had made.
Jarek met my stare as he pushed nearly the rest of his chips into the pot, raising me by a thousand.
I raised him another ten.
How far are you going to go, asshole? Whatever you have, it’s mine.
A soft sound of pain wheezed from Aster’s chest. A heave of distressed air.
My gaze followed to where the black dress she wore dipped low between her tits. My heart fisted
when I saw what she wore around her neck. It was a star-shaped necklace, dangling down to kiss her
cleavage.
I nearly cracked. Lost the control I was holding onto.
It had to be a joke.
A taunt.
A fucking cruel, sick twisted one, the girl coming down here and parading it like a slap to my face.
It made my teeth clench and the fury I was barely constraining flashfire through my veins.
I tore my attention from her when Jarek spat, “Fuck,” under his breath.
He still clutched his cards, refusing to give up the fight.
Haille laughed, the sadistic fucker enjoying this far too much. He looked at Jarek. How the hell he
knew him, I didn’t have a clue, but I didn’t believe in a coincidence quite this big. He pulled his cigar from
his mouth and jabbed it Jarek’s direction. “It seems you’re in a small predicament, Mr. Urso. Are you
already going to walk? And here I thought you were going to bring something interesting to the table.”
Jarek all but growled, and Aster’s gaze darted between the three of us. Nerves flew from her soft,
caramel flesh. That face carved of perfect lines and smooth skin tightened in dread.
He’d brought something interesting to the table, all right.
“Just cut your losses, Jarek.” She begged it quietly, but I heard the strength behind it.
Jarek roughed his hand down his pompous face, and he turned to look at the necklace around
Aster’s neck as if it could be a solution to his issues.
Aster gasped, and her hand came up to protect it. Tears sprang to her eyes. She took a small step
back. “No,” she wheezed, like it would physically pain her to remove it.
I wanted to jump to my feet.
Take hold of her and demand answers.
Demand to know why.
Why had she done it if she could stand there and look like there was a piece of her that was
broken.
Anger and confusion had me in a stranglehold.
Old grief I’d buried deep that was clawing to the surface.
“Give it to me,” Jarek grated.
“No.” My voice cut through the dense air.
A roll of thunder.
The tolling of a challenge.
Aster froze. Her stare landed on me.
It was pain.
A plea.
Desperation.
It only made the sickness thrum harder.
I looked to Jarek.
“The girl.”
The stake came out without thought to repercussions.
Without rationale.
No sense.
Just revenge.
I wanted what never should have been his.
A gasp rocked from her, and she stumbled back farther.
Jarek’s eyes sharpened to blades, and there was no question he wanted to reach over the table
and choke the life from me.
My fingers itched.
I hoped he tried.
I gave nothing. No smile. No sneer. Just the quiet hatred that emanated from within. The fact I
intended to take everything from him.
I’d known one day I would. I just hadn’t anticipated the opportunity would present itself so soon.
He blinked then jutted his chin at the dealer for the exotic chip.
The one that signified he would hazard my proposition.
It wasn’t rare. A bid made for a beach home. A family heirloom. Something that couldn’t be
replaced. Here, fortunes were won and lost.
“What are you doing? I am not for sale.” Aster’s voice was aghast. Horrified and filled with disgust.
“He’s bluffing, Aster.” Jarek tossed in the chip.
It was the first time I let myself fully look at her. To sit back and take her in like she was mine to
take. Sickened terror ridged her gorgeous face because I was pretty sure she knew this wasn’t close to a
bluff.
I couldn’t do anything but crack a grin. “It seems you are tonight.”
Then I laid down my cards.
A straight flush.
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“My heart in my throat for most of the book and she just did NOT disappoint! At all!”
— The Masque Reader


A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She
writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME,
CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, FALLING STARS, and REDEMPTION HILLS novels. Watch out for her
upcoming stand-alone, NEVER LOOK BACK, releasing August 29th!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her
friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
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FLING by Adriana Locke
Release Date: August 15th
Genre/Tropes: Contemporary Romance
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Excerpt:
CONTEST: WIN A DATE TO MY HONEYMOON
I realize that a social media post isn’t the usual way to secure a date to your honeymoon—for obvious reasons—but here we are.
My wedding was canceled. What’s not canceled is the nonrefundable, ten-thousand-dollar all-inclusive vacation at a luxury resort, and I’m not about to let it go to waste.
I’m packed and ready to hit the beach. But I can’t deny that it might be more interesting to honeymoon with someone.
Since my track record of picking dates isn’t exactly golden, I’ve done something that I hope I don’t regret. In a moment of weakness—mixed with panic and fueled by margaritas—I agreed to let my friends choose someone to go with me.
It’ll be a blind date / postnuptial vacation—without the nuptials. A few fun days in paradise with no expectations. No obligations.
Before you say, “pick me for a free vacay!”, a few things to consider …
The perfect candidate will be single. He won’t talk too much on the plane. And he’ll be able to leave town quickly.
He will also be okay with sharing a bed. It’s a honeymoon suite, after all.
If you want to be considered, email Rebecca and Sara your application at the address below. (Get creative. There’s a free vacation on the line.)
Wheels up next week!

Blurb:
Subject: You up?
This is definitely a feeling cute, might want to delete later situation. But isn’t every message sent at two in the morning a precursor to regret?
By the way, I hope you read that subject line as the pun it was intended to be.
Okay, cutting to the chase—neither of us has an interest in cultivating an emotional connection with each other, right? You have your reasons, and I have mine. But none of that keeps us from nearly crossing the line from professional to personal every freaking day.
I mean, what was that almost kiss in the hallway this afternoon?
Something has to give. So this is me, giving in.
I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but what if you and I had … a fling?
Just a short-lived non-romance. No pretending it will ever be more. We’ll avoid flowers and flirting and get to the f—you know what I mean.
That’s all either of us wants anyway.
Think about it. Let me know.
I’ll see you in the office in the morning.
Oh! One more thing—If you’re not into this, don’t ever mention you saw this email. I’ll pretend I never saw it either.
Okay. Bye.
About the Author:
USA Today and Washington Post bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.

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The world took everything from us.
As survivors of not only a plane crash, but two other impossible tragedies, we’d more than earned a life of peace. But time and time again, we were shown that fate had no intention of giving that to us.
Remi and I were soulmates. Plain and simple. Our love should have died in the depths of our darkness, but the sun still exists even when it’s not shining.
The secrets of our past threatened to destroy us at every turn, but for Remi, I would never stop fighting for our future.
The world took everything from us.
And we would stop at nothing until we took it all back—forever.

Fall in love today!
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Start the trilogy today!
FREE in Kindle Unlimited
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Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/SomebodySomeone
Excerpt from The Difference Between Somebody and Someone
“Sorry, is my mood killing your buzz?” I asked.
Her blue eyes sparkled in the glow of the airplane reading light. “It really is.”
I shook my head and went back to mindlessly flipping the pages of a magazine I’d bought at the terminal back in Colorado. I’d picked it up with hopes it would be a distraction from the cyclone raging within me on our way back to Atlanta. The minute she ordered that drink, I’d known it was a lost cause.
Her hand came across the armrest and landed on my thigh. “Bowen, stop. It’s not a big deal.”
It was the truth. Compared to everything we’d been through, our house could have been swallowed by a sinkhole and it wouldn’t have been considered a big deal.
Honest to God, I was lucky to still have her at all. It had only been nine months since we’d met, but we’d lived a thousand lives in that time. Unfortunately, that also meant we’d died almost as many deaths.
Terrifying, tortuous, agony-filled deaths.
We’d also found love though—immeasurable amounts of it.
I stared down at her engagement ring. I’d cashed out a huge chunk of my savings account and still had to open a line of credit with the jewelry store to buy the three-karat princess-cut ring. The payment was roughly the same as I paid for my truck each month, but the tears in her eyes as she’d sat in her hospital bed, clutching it to her chest the day I proposed, made it all worth it.
She was worth it. Every day, every tear, every worry-filled minute shaved off my life.
I’d do it all again.
If only I weren’t so helpless to save her. I loved that woman. Whole heart. Whole soul. Bend me, break me, crack me open and she would have been there. No matter how bad it got, she was always a part of me.
I wasn’t sure anymore if she could say the same.
“Bowen,” she whispered, just as she’d done so many times before. It was a plea. One she knew I’d answer no matter the situation. No matter how mad I got. No matter how much I feared losing her again.
My gaze instinctively lifted to hers.
She smiled and the sight caused an ache in my chest. It was a lie.
God, I missed her smile.
“Baby, I’m okay.” She tilted her head to her drink. “I hate flying. That’s all this is.”
That was a lie too.
My shoulders fell and a loud breath tore from my burning lungs, but I let myself pretend, my mind going back to a time when it could have been the truth.
I thought of the nights we’d shared multiple bottles of wine and made love, laughing and moaning under the covers until the sun crept across the horizon. She’d rested peacefully in my arms. No nightmares. No crying in her sleep. No insomnia. Just even breaths, her head on my shoulder, and her body wound around mine so tightly it was like a second skin.
But that was the past.
The unreachable, insurmountable past.
The plane jerked, forcing me back to the present.
“Shit.” She moved her hand off my thigh to grasp her drink as it sloshed all over her. “Crap, crap, crap,” she chanted, using a cocktail napkin to dry the dark-red pool of tomato juice on her white pants.
For a moment, I sat there and watched her struggle. It wasn’t the most chivalrous thing to do, but I was all out of grand gestures.
She unbuckled her seat belt and lurched to her feet, her phone along with a handful of ice cubes from her lap falling to the floor. “Damn, this is going to leave a huge stain.”
The plane jerked again and she stumbled forward, crashing into the seat in front of her before I could catch her arm.
“Dammit, sit down before you get hurt.”
Ignoring me, she bent over to fish her phone from under the seat. “Hit the button for the flight attendant. I need some club soda and a lemon. STAT.”
“No, what you need is to sit down.”
I gave her arm a tug and dragged her down to the seat. Using the tip of my boot, I swept her phone toward her. Aforementioned lack of chivalry aside, I was no contortionist; leaning over to pick it up was out of the question.
She folded her upper body over my lap and blindly patted around the floor. I fought the urge to run my fingers through the back of her hair. In the beginning, it would have been a no-brainer. I’d have curled forward and suggestively whispered in her ear, “Since you’re already down there…”
She would have grinned up at me, her whole face filled with mischief as she traced a finger over my zipper, ignoring anyone who dared to watch her as she replied, “You mean down here?”
I’d have grabbed her hand and made her stop even though I was the one who had started it. She had no filter. She always took it one step too far. I’d loved that about her when we’d first met. It was fresh and exciting, a far cry from the stuffy women I’d dated in the past.
But now, she was in the past too.
We were in the past.

A trilogy like no other!!!
The Difference Between Someday and Forever is the final book in Aly’s The Difference Trilogy.
This book starts off exactly where book two ended and readers are right back to gripping the edge of their seats.
All of Aly’s readers know how addictive her characters and their stories. However, this trilogy hit differently and shows immense growth in her talent.
This conclusion was dramatic and emotionally intense. While books 1 and 2 gave readers a intense, heart-pounding suspense, this final book was just as intense but in a completely different way.
TDBSAF was still intriguing and intense but on a more emotional and mental level. Aly brings a different intensity to this story that’s just as compelling and has readers waiting with bated breath.
Remi and Bowen’s story is one for the ages. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions and keeps readers engaged from start to finish.
This trilogy kept me on my toes to the very end. Aly delivers a few unexpected surprises in this final installment and still gives readers the story of a lifetime.



About Aly
Originally from Savannah, Georgia, USA Today bestselling author Aly Martinez now lives in South Carolina with her four hilarious children.
Never one to take herself too seriously, she enjoys movies that can surprise her with a twist, charcuterie boards, and her mildly neurotic golden retriever. It should be known, however, that she hates pizza and ice cream, almost as much as writing her bio in the third person.
She passes what little free time she has reading anything and everything she can get her hands on, preferably with a glass of wine by her side.
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For the first time, New York Times bestselling author Christopher Rice writes as C. Travis Rice. Under his new pen name, Rice offers tales of passion, intrigue, and steamy romance between men. The first novel, SAPPHIRE SUNSET, transports you to a beautiful luxury resort on the sparkling Southern California coast where strong-willed heroes release the shame that blocks their heart’s desires.
Logan Murdoch is a fighter, a survivor, and a provider. When he leaves a distinguished career in the Marine Corps to work security at a luxury beachfront resort, he’s got one objective: pay his father’s mounting medical bills. That means Connor Harcourt, the irresistibly handsome scion of the wealthy family that owns Sapphire Cove, is strictly off limits, despite his sassy swagger and beautiful blue eyes. Logan’s life is all about sacrifices; Connor is privilege personified. But temptation is a beast that demands to be fed, and a furtive kiss ignites instant passion, forcing Logan to slam the brakes. Hard.
Haunted by their frustrated attraction, the two men find themselves hurled back together when a headline-making scandal threatens to ruin the resort they both love. This time, there’s no easy escape from the magnetic pull of their white hot desire. Will saving Sapphire Cove help forge the union they crave, or will it drive them apart once more?

Fall in love with Logan and Connor today!
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Excerpt
“Wow.” Logan’s voice echoed through the rocky chamber.
Here, the sounds of the ocean surf softened into something that was more like a gurgling brook. What whitecaps the cave’s mouth captured were filtered down into something frothy and inviting amidst the labyrinth of low rocks within. The basic security lights at foot level threw a soft golden light across the metal struts that secured the rock ceiling overhead.
“I used to come here all the time as a kid with my friends,” Connor said nervously. “There’re all kinds of caverns back here we used to play and hide in before my mom found out and busted us. She still has no idea they don’t go that deep. She still thinks you could get lost in here. But I’ve got an excellent sense of direction.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, I usually know where things are headed.”
“Makes sense, I guess. Your life’s kinda laid out for you, right? You’ll probably run this place someday, right? Heir apparent and all that.”
“Oh, God. Do they still call me the prince?” Connor turned, resting his butt against the guardrail so he could focus on Logan.
“Kinda.”
“Is that a good thing? Should I be annoyed by that?”
“Better to be the prince than a peasant, I guess,” Logan said.
“Are those really the only two choices?”
Logan laughed, but there was relief in it. As if Connor’s snarky response had shined a light on possibilities he hadn’t seen before now. “I guess not.”
“Whatever. I’ll let it go.”
Silence then, save for the gurgling of the sea pushing its way past them and deeper into the cave.
Connor rested his elbows on the rail on either side of him, an attempt to look casual even though the sight of Logan leaning against the cave wall, hands in his pockets, studying Connor with a half smile made Connor feel welded in place. “All right, your turn.”
“My turn for what?” Logan asked.
“I told you mine, and my grandpa’s. What’s your magic moment?”
“Okay.” Logan straightened. “So if I remember correctly, it’s like a moment when you’re doing something you love and you feel the most satisfied by it. Is that right?”
“Exactly.” Connor was thrilled that Logan had listened so closely.
“Well, my life is kind of starting over, so I’m kind of figuring out what it is I love to do. Kickboxing’s up there, but that’s more of a fast and furious kind of thing, and the high is mostly when I’m done. Not sure there’s really a magic hour there. There was some stuff about the Marines that I loved, especially once I was a staff sergeant and I was in the zone for gunnery sergeant. But a lot of it was tough, and a lot to hold.”
“I’m sure.”
When Logan started toward him through the shadows, Connor’s breath caught. His feet felt planted to the boards, and the sides of his face got tingly and hot.
“So if I had to pick,” Logan said, “I’d pick this one.”
“Walking rounds?”
“No. I’d pick the moment when I’m finally all alone with a guy who drives me wild, and I know we’re about to kiss, but I’m not sure when. So there’s this tension in the air, and I can feel it. Everywhere.”
They were inches apart now, so close Connor had to look up at him to maintain eye contact.
“And we’re both circling, waiting for the right moment. And I’m trying to take it kinda slow because I know one little touch”—Logan gently grazed Connor’s cheek with the side of one finger—“and it might turn into a lot more than a kiss. But first, there’s a promise to be kept.”
“What promise is that?” Connor asked in a squeaky whisper.
“I believe you promised me a dance.”
“Or you promised me one.”
“Either way, seems like time.”

About C. Travis Rice
C. Travis Rice is the pseudonym New York Times bestselling novelist Christopher Rice devotes to steamy tales of romance between men. Christopher has published multiple bestselling books in multiple genres and been the recipient of a Lambda Literary Award. With his mother, Anne Rice, he is an executive producer on the AMC Studios adaptations of her novels The Vampire Chronicles and The Lives of the Mayfair Witches. Together with his best friend and producing partner, New York Times bestselling novelist, Eric Shaw Quinn, he runs the production company Dinner Partners. Among other projects, they produce the podcast and video network, TDPS, which you can find at www.TheDinnerPartyShow.com.
Connect with C. Travis Rice
Website: http://www.christopherricebooks.com/
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