Spotlight: His Beautiful Game by Peyton Lux

(Lanark Soccer Club, #1)

Publication date: August 11th 2026

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

My childhood crush is my injured captain… and I’m the physio secretly keeping him on the pitch.

Rafe Calder is everything I learned not to want: flashy, reckless, adored, and far too beautiful. He is also hurt, lying about it, and somehow mine to fix.

I catch the limp no one else sees, then make the dumbest deal of my life. Private rehab, locked rooms, my hands on him daily, and one rule I keep pretending still matters.

At first, he pushes because he hates being handled. Then he listens when pain scares him, lets me see the lonely man under the captain’s armband, and looks ready to break when Donovan Reid makes me smile.

Somewhere between treatment lights, late-night checkups, and one reckless after-hours mistake that turns into more, I fall. Not for the fantasy I used to worship, but for the man who finally stops performing.

Then his injury truth explodes, and protecting him could cost me everything.

Worst of all, loving him might end his career.

Tropes: Childhood crush, star player x physiotherapist, secret injury, forced proximity, forbidden workplace romance, jealousy triangle
Spice level: High / explicit

Excerpt

I watch every second of that embrace. Her face when he lifts her off the ground, her laughter, the ease of it. Nothing between Tess and me has ever been easy.

He was a good player. I said that myself. But tonight he saved the game in my place, and thirty thousand people cheered him while I stood there feeling like a man who had started the match and somehow still lost it. Then I see him holding Tess, my Tess, and she’s smiling up at him like she doesn’t know exactly what that does to me.

I find her in the hallway outside the locker room. She doesn’t slow when I fall into step beside her, but I catch the way she worries at her lip.

“Great game,” she says.

“Is that what you said to Reid when he had his hands all over you?”

Her head jerks toward me. “I thanked him for the hug, yes.”

I stop her with a hand around her wrist. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“He was thanking me. I cleared him to play on a calf knock.”

My throat tightens. “I saw the way you looked at him.”

Her expression hardens. “And what about you? What about the pictures of you with that woman? So it’s fine for you to do whatever you were doing, but I can’t accept a thank-you hug from a player I treated?”

“That was weeks ago,” I snap. “Before you and I—”

“I saw you at Halo.” Her voice goes cold. “The night after I came to your house.”

I stare at her. “I was with the lads. We go for beers all the time.”

“From where I was standing, you had a woman on your arm. Then you went off with her afterward. And you’ve got the gall to stand here and act jealous over three seconds in a football stadium?”

“Why were you watching me at Halo?” I demand.

“I was out with Donovan and Layla,” she says sharply. “I wasn’t stalking you.”

The room seems to tilt. “You were out with him?”

“With him and Layla. As friends.”

That lands like a punch. She steps closer and jabs a finger into my chest, and I let her. “Besides, you have no claim over me. You said mine into a mirror after a quick fuck in the gym and then showed up in the press with some other woman. And you know what? You’re right. We’re nothing, officially, so don’t stand here making me feel guilty for doing my job.”

“Don’t say nothing,” I say.

“What are we then?”

The anger in her face cracks for a second, and there’s fear underneath it. “I’ve been lying to my employer about you. I’ve filed false assessments. I’ve let you into places that were supposed to be professional, and you—”

“I haven’t touched anyone else,” I say. “Not since you.”

That stops her.

“The photos were nothing,” I tell her. “What you saw at Halo was nothing.”

Tears gather at the corners of her eyes. “You told me—”

“And I meant it.”

I cup her cheek. “You’re mine, Tess.”

She shudders when I kiss her. She lets me pull her against the wall, lets me kiss her hard enough to make the hallway disappear. But then she presses a hand to my chest and pushes back, just enough to stop me.

I break away, breathing hard. “I haven’t wanted anyone else. Not once.”

Her jaw tightens. “You’re injured, Rafe. Publicly now. I have to file a real assessment this week, and whatever this is, I can’t let it affect that report.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“It already does,” she says quietly. “Every decision I make about your hip, your minutes, whether you play the Founders’ Cup or Donovan does—it’s all compromised because I have feelings. About both of you. And I can’t fix that, so I need you to give me some room.”

Room. For him, too.

I take a step back. Then another.

“Okay,” I say.

Her face flickers. “Rafe—”

“I heard you.” I keep backing away. “Do your job, Montgomery.”

She turns and walks off, leaving me standing in the corridor with the feeling that I’ve just done the right thing, and somehow lost anyway.

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About the Author

Trading boardrooms for bedrooms (of the fictional kind!), Peyton Lux is now fully dedicated to writing steamy workplace romance that leaves readers utterly satisfied. 

Her former life in marketing taught her how to craft compelling narratives – a skill she now devotes entirely to her steamy workplace romance novels. 

Peyton lives and breathes romance, infusing her stories with undeniable heat and fiercely earned happily-ever-afters. 

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His Beautiful Game Blitz

Spotlight: Tapeworm by A. P. Thayer

From Dusk Till Dawn meets The Thing in this debut horror novel, where a group of friends must confront questions of identity, aging, and desire during a vampire infestation in an isolated Californian desert.

It needs to feed.

After the recent separation from his wife Trish, Victor hopes his friends' annual weekend retreat to the Californian desert town of Superstition will loosen him up and reforge the group's fraying bonds. But something is waiting underneath Superstition, crawling its way into their group, and feeding into their desires. 

Victor knows too well what it means to repress his desires. He's always attempted to be the perfect partner, yet often found himself lacking. With Trish skipping the trip, he begins falling into the wild underbelly of Superstition in new ways. When the leader of the town's Welcoming Committee approaches him with a romantic, sexually charged offer, Victor wonders if it's too good to be true.

But the Welcoming Committee expects a price to be paid for its services. One that cannot be fulfilled by willing bodies alone. By the end of the weekend, group bonding will have developed a whole new meaning. 

Because something is hungry for Victor and his friends.

For fans of Stephen Graham Jones, V. Castro, and Rachel Harrison, Tapeworm is an unforgettable, body-horror vampire novel that answers how far one will go to stop repressing their desires and finally set themselves free.

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About the Author

A. P. Thayer is a queer, Mexican American author based out of Los Angeles who writes cross-genre speculative fiction. His work has been featured in Dark Matter Magazine, Space Fantasy Magazine, Uncharted Magazine, and several anthologies. He is also a full member of SFWA and HWA.

Spotlight: The Vanishing by Kelsey Crane

It all begins with a game. Six teenagers from around the world receive a mysterious VR headset and are dropped into RIZE: a hyper-realistic survival simulation game where the Earth still lives and breathes as it used to. But when tragedy strikes, the 17-year-olds are faced with a radical choice: to remain obedient heirs to a broken world or take their virtual civilization offline and build it for real.

In a daring heist, the six disappear. They flood the system with fake identities, hijack their supplies, and vanish into the Pacific Northwest to build The Ark: an off-grid homestead rooted in ancient wisdom, the science of permaculture, and the hope of creating a blueprint to save the world.

At first, The Ark feels like utopia. Spring brings blossoms and blurred boundaries. But love entangles. Ideologies fracture. Winter descends. A traitor is unmasked, and survival turns brutal. As the outside world hunts them, and the true creator of RIZE is revealed, cracks in their idyllic community begin to form. They had set out to save the world, but now they’re fighting to save themselves.

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About the Author

KELSEY CRANE is a storyteller, gardener, and apprentice of regenerative living. A certified permaculturist and ambassador for the Rodale Institute, she learns from the teachers, growers, and Indigenous leaders quietly building the future, and brings what she gathers to the page with care and curiosity.

Her fiction explores the collision of ecological collapse and radical transformation, always with unshakable optimism — a hope she holds, as a mother, for every child inheriting this world. Kelsey lives in Los Angeles with her family

Spotlight: Five Broken Blades by Mai Corland

It’s the season
for treason…

The king of Yusan must die.

The five most dangerous liars in the land have been mysteriously summoned to work together for a single objective: to kill the God King Joon.

He has it coming. Under his merciless immortal hand, the nobles flourish, while the poor and innocent are imprisoned, ruined…or sold.

And now each of the five blades will come for him. Each has tasted bitterness―from the hired hitman seeking atonement, a lovely assassin who seeks freedom, or even the prince banished for his cruel crimes. None can resist the sweet, icy lure of vengeance.

They can agree on murder.

They can agree on treachery.

But for these five killers―each versed in deception, lies, and betrayal―it’s not enough to forge an alliance. To survive, they’ll have to find a way to trust each other…but only one can take the crown.

Let the best liar win.

The Broken Blades series is best enjoyed in order.
Reading Order:
Book #1 Five Broken Blades
Book #2 Four Ruined Realms
Book #3 Three Shattered Souls

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About the Author

Mai Corland is a Korean American attorney and writer, born in Seoul and adopted into New York. From there, she ran away from winter and studied in Florida at Rollins College and the University of Miami. Due to a variety of questionable decisions, she currently lives in the cold again with her partner, children, and a goldfish who will outlive them all. When not writing, you can find her asleep or clutching her latte machine. Mai writes award winning children’s and young adult books under Meredith Ireland.

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Spotlight: A Quilting of Scars by Lucy E.M. Black

Filled with the pleasure of recognizable yet distinctively original characters and a deftly drawn sense of time and place, A Quilting of Scars brings to life a story of forbidden love, abuse and murder. Pulsing with repressed sexuality and guilt, Larkin Beattie reveals the many secrets he has kept hidden throughout his lonely life. The character-driven narrative is a meditation on aging and remorse, offering a rich account of the strictures and rhythms of farming in the not-so-distant past, highlighting the confines of a community where strict moral codes are imposed upon its members and fear of exposure terrifies queer youth. As Larkin reflects upon key events, his recollections include his anger at the hypocrisy of the church, and the deep grief and loneliness that have marked his path. There is a timelessness to this story which transcends the period and resonates with heart-breaking relevance.Filled with the pleasure of recognizable yet distinctively original characters and a deftly drawn sense of time and place, A Quilting of Scars brings to life a story of forbidden love, abuse and murder. Pulsing with repressed sexuality and guilt, Larkin Beattie reveals the many secrets he has kept hidden throughout his lonely life. The character-driven narrative is a meditation on aging and remorse, offering a rich account of the strictures and rhythms of farming in the not-so-distant past, highlighting the confines of a community where strict moral codes are imposed upon its members and fear of exposure terrifies queer youth. As Larkin reflects upon key events, his recollections include his anger at the hypocrisy of the church, and the deep grief and loneliness that have marked his path. There is a timelessness to this story which transcends the period and resonates with heart-breaking relevance.

Excerpt

Now or Never Publishing

The novel takes place during one long night when Larkin remembers events from the past.  Among the disturbing memories is the branding of cattle which he hates doing.  The morning after the branding, he takes his horse Dickens for a ride.  During the ride, he puzzles through people’s reactions to a house and barn fire that killed two men.  Larkin and his friend Paul both know what happened but keep the information a secret.  Larkin considers himself a keeper of secrets. 

Larkin didn’t have a destination or a route in mind, particularly. He just felt the need of some space around him. He loved the farm, but sometimes its routines felt confining, and after the savagery of the day before he was eager for some open views. He let Dickens choose their direction; the horse indicated north, towards the mountain. It wasn’t much of a mountain, really, but that’s what it was called. 

As they rode, light began to break in a line and seep gradually into the sky until the orange ball of sun finally made its appearance and the black faded into its light. The mountain peak was masked by a thick ring of fog and cloud, while to the east, near the Pretty River, Larkin saw mist rising from the water like thin wispy curls of cigar smoke. The elements, he reflected, were out of balance. Larkin read in this a sign that frost would soon come. 

He nudged Dickens and followed the banks of the river for a couple of miles before turning round. It was late in the season, but Larkin knew the salmon were still there and made for good eating at this time of year. He’d have to come back with his rod before winter set in hard. Thinking about the fish, making plans to come back, maybe even with his Pa, renewed Larkin’s feeling that all was once more right with the world. He was free. No one but he and Paul knew what had transpired at Skinner’s that night, and maybe now no one else would ever need to know. Was it too much to hope that Cian Quinn would leave well enough alone? 

But certain questions continued to niggle at him. Why had Mrs. Skinner ignored Paul after the fire? Did she blame him? And if she blamed him, it stood to reason that the girls did too. One word to Cian, and Paul could be hanged. And if Paul wasn’t safe, then Larkin warn’t either. 

His shoulders tensed at the thought. Dickens, sensing the change, stopped cantering and waited. Now Larkin sat still atop him, disoriented. Why had Dickens stopped? What time was it? How long had he been away? Panicked now, a rush of adrenaline surged through him—and he kicked Dickens gently but harder than usual and rode swiftly back to the farm.

Larkin dismounted outside the barn. He unbuckled and hauled down the saddle, dashed inside for a brush, then came back out and gave Dickens a fast currying. This was a treatment the horse enjoyed, and Larkin would often linger at it, but not this morning. The sun was quite high by now; he must have been overlong at his ride. 

“Good ride, son?”

“Sorry to be so long.”

“We’re in no hurry this morning. There’s always work to be done and it always waits.”

“I’ll be quick.”

His Pa came close and stood beside him, placing his large calloused hand on Larkin’s shoulder. “There’s no fire, son. We can take time to enjoy ourselves every now and then.” 

At the word “fire,” Larkin tensed again. His Pa could surely sense it. Wound up tighter than a clock is what his Pa would have thought. Larkin felt this. He felt both his folks watchin’ and waitin’.

“Go inside and get some breakfast. Your Ma fried sausages and eggs this morning. She’s keeping some hot.” 

And just like that, Larkin was dropped back into the comforting routines of domestic order. But why had his Pa mentioned fire? And what would his folks really think, wondered Larkin, if they knew what I done? 

The fear of discovery and the worry of disappointing them welled up once more, seizing his insides and lodging like a lump in his throat. The privy still hid the evidence. The shears remained there, wrapped in paper, under the floor. Larkin worried someone might find the bundle but he couldn’t think what else to do with it. Some days he expected his father to approach him, holding it out and asking what it was doing there. Would he lie then, or own up to things? Maybe that would be a relief. Maybe his Pa would turn him in. He dint know. 

The burden of secrets followed Larkin like a dark shadow, always there, a black, menacing shape. Every now and then the darkness would startle him; he’d have to brace his legs firmly and hold his ground lest he disappear into the blackness. It was nothing that others could see or hear or feel, but it was attached to him; it would rise up and appear at will. Sometimes he’d feel a prickling at the back of his neck and he’d stand still, waiting for the tingling to run up and down his arms. Then his chest would tighten and he’d have trouble breathing. The panic would choke him as he flapped his arms, pacing back and forth till he wore himself out. Then eventually, at last, it would subside. 

His Ma referred to these events as “his spells.” She was sure Doc Mather would have a powder or a cure. But Larkin steadfastly refused to even see him. 

The fleeting horror of the attacks marked Larkin. He was afraid of them. He tried to fight them off when they began but didn’t always succeed. 

His Pa had once found him in the barn in the middle of one. He’d stood back and watched Larkin flapping his arms and pacing furiously. Then his Pa just walked over, pulled him in against his chest, and held him tightly. He held him without saying a word for maybe twenty minutes. Larkin felt surprisingly calmed by that closeness, by his Pa’s touch. 

Larkin always liked to remember the feel of his Pa then, the stubble on his face scratching against his own, the smell of pipe smoke lingering on his jacket and shirt. The gloved hands gripping his forearms tightly while pulling him into an embrace and then the feel of them strong and comforting on his back, making patterns of small circles. It was the embrace of a man who could fix almost anything. 

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About the Author

Author of The Marzipan Fruit Basket, Eleanor Courtown, Stella's Carpet, The Brickworks, and Class Lessons: Stories of Vulnerable Youth, Lucy E.M. Black's short stories have been published in Britain, Ireland, USA and Canada in a variety of literary journals and magazines. She lives in Port Perry, Ontario, the traditional territory of the Mississaugas of Scugog Island, First Nations.

Spotlight: The Art of Almost Losing It by Alina Jacobs

(The Richmond Brothers, #3)

Publication date: August 4th 2026

Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

There comes a time in every almost-thirty-year-old woman’s life when getting kidnapped off the street is preferable to admitting that the hot, rich boyfriend you’ve been bragging about for months does not, in fact, exist.

Yes, it’s terrifying being stuffed in the trunk of a Mercedes, but I would rather be locked in a stranger’s penthouse than sleeping on the floor of my parents’ apartment like the loser daughter I am.

Honestly?
It’s nice to get some alone time. And my own bathroom.

He bribes me with money not to call the police.

I scream at him for forcing me to go to brunch as his prisoner at the hottest restaurant in New York.

Now everyone in my parents’ aggressively posh Manhattan neighborhood thinks we’re dating.

Buckle up, buddy.
I have a full wedding itinerary to attend, and congratulations—you’re my fake boyfriend.

Unfortunately, my kidnapper is the worst fake boyfriend in the history of fake boyfriends.

He’s mean.
Aloof.
Emotionally unavailable.
And deeply offended by how much time I spend on my phone.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to ignore how yummy he smells, all muscular and tall as he fumes next to me in bed, furious because I asked him when the sexy portion of the kidnapping is going to happen.

It’s a fair question, though, right?!?  I thought kidnapping came with benefits!

Guess my kidnapper didn’t want me that much after all.

Men lying about their desire for a relationship. Story of my life.

Now I’m trapped.
He’s miserable.

And somehow, this is starting to feel dangerously like a relationship.

Excerpt

The one time a hot guy shows interest in me… and he’s a violent kidnapper.

My screams cut off as he tosses in my laptop case. It lands on my ribs, knocking the breath out of me. He shoves my legs fully into the trunk, then tosses in the barking Lulu, then slams the door.

I assume it’s a mistake.

The expensive German car. The bespoke suit. The cologne that smells like money and expensive scotch—Men like him don’t grab women like me.

So why did he just shove me, in all my pizza-sauce-stained, Costco-clothes glory, into the trunk?

I needed a boyfriend, sure, but I did not expect him to arrive via a felony crime.

The engine purrs.

Wait.

Am I really being kidnapped?

Like… for real?

Sleet rattles against the roof as the realization hits.

Oh.

Oh no.

I’m trapped in the trunk of a stranger’s car. A dangerous man. Being driven God knows where.

Sure, he’s attractive—but that is deeply unhelpful information right now.

I’ll never see my family again. Never eat a dollar slice of pizza again—

Wait.

I squint.

Window.

This isn’t a sedan. This is an SUV.

I’m not trapped.

I haul myself up and pop my head over the back seat.

“You’re a crappy kidnapper!” I scream.

“Shit!” he yells—and nearly plows into a parked truck. “You—!”

The car jerks to a stop at a stop sign. He throws it into park and starts climbing over the seats toward me.

“You can’t kidnap me,” I say, panic creeping in. “You don’t want me. I’m not a girl anyone kidnaps.”

My dog barks.

Emerald-green eyes catch the light.

“Sit down,” he commands. 

“My mom is going to be really upset if I don’t come home tonight,” I blurt. “Let me go.”

The doors lock.

I fumble in my purse. Find my pepper spray.

“Yes!” I whisper. “I’m a strong, independent —”

I spray… myself.

“Water,” I gasp, coughing, wheezing, blind.

I suck in a lungful of peppery air and yank at the door handle, begging it to open.

Too late.

“Stupid fucking girl,” he snarls, grabbing my jacket and dragging me forward.

“You didn’t even handcuff me!” I wheeze.

He pauses. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

He loosens his tie.

I gulp.

“I cannot believe,” he sneers, “that I kidnapped the most unattractive woman in Manhattan.”

Oh.

So… not the future love of my life after all.

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About the Author

I write the kind of books I love—romantic comedies featuring snarly guys with hearts of gold, kick-ass heroines, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after! Also wine. And cupcakes.

When I’m not writing I can be found drinking tea, surrounded by my massive to-be-read pile! So many books...

You can connect with me on social media or find information on my books at my website.

Sign up for my newsletter so that you can get information about new releases, giveaways, and more!

http://alinajacobs.com/mailinglist.html

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http://alinajacobs.com/

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The Art of Almost Losing It Blitz