Excerpt: Sweet Southern Hearts by Susan Schild

About the Book

Susan Schild welcomes you back to the offbeat Southern town of Willow Hill, North Carolina, for a humorous, heartwarming story of new beginnings, do-overs, and self-discovery…

When it comes to marriage, third time’s the charm for Linny Taylor. She’s thrilled to be on her honeymoon with Jack Avery, Willow Hill’s handsome veterinarian. But just like the hair-raising white water rafting trip Jack persuades her to take, newlywed life has plenty of dips and bumps.

Jack’s twelve-year-old son is resisting all Linny’s efforts to be the perfect stepmother, while her own mother, Dottie, begs her to tag alon

g on the first week of a free-wheeling RV adventure. Who knew women “of a certain age” could drum up so much trouble? No sooner is Linny sighing with relief at being back home than she’s helping her frazzled sister with a new baby…and dealing with an unexpected legacy from her late ex. Life is fuller—and richer—than she ever imagined, but if there’s one thing Linny’s learned by now, it’s that there’s always room for another sweet surprise…

Excerpt

Jack strode toward her in his Levi’s and the dark green T-shirt she’d picked out for him—the extralong one that that fit his tall, rangy frame and was also the exact color of his pine green eyes. Her shivering lessening, she grinned at him.

“Let’s warm you up, shug.” He wrapped her in one of his large and slightly doggy-smelling fleece he’d gotten from the truck and began to rub her shoulders.

She leaned in to him, enjoying the warmth and solid heft of him, and rested her head against his broad shoulder. “Okay.” Hugging him always made her feel safe, like finally arriving home after a long, arduous trip.

On the way back to the cabin Jack cast her a sideways glance from the driver’s seat of the truck. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did.” Linny sighed. “This has been the best honeymoon ever.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt her face flame. Why had she said that? She wasn’t ranking her three honeymoons, holding up cards like the skating judges with numbers one through ten printed on them. Linny shot him a glance to see how hurt he looked, but he just patted her knee and whistled between his teeth as he adjusted the rearview mirror.

Linny shook her head. She’d drive herself crazy yet.

The tires of Jack’s red truck crunched on the gravel as they pulled up beside their hideaway. Linny took Jack’s hand as they walked up the front path, admiring the square-cut logs and clean lines of the two-room rustic log cabin. She’d rented it after obsessively comparing reviews on travel websites. Perched on a high ridge, their cabin was skirted by lush pink rhododendron and gave long-range views of the green and blue patchwork quilt of the valley laid out before it. She’d chosen the perfect, cozy honeymoon spot.

Linny took a quick shower, dried her hair, and slipped on a cool floral sundress. Jack was on the front porch playing his guitar, and she smiled as she heard him strumming. Padding barefoot to the tiny kitchen, she opened a beer for Jack and poured herself a glass of the crisp Pinot Grigio they’d bought at the vineyard the day before.

Pushing open the screen door with her hip, she handed Jack his beer. He sat in a rocker, cradling the guitar. A self-taught musician, Jack was still self-conscious about his mistakes, but he was coming along fast. He took a draw of beer, put the bottle on the floor, and eased into the opening chords of James Taylor’s “Carolina in My Mind.” Giving her a sorry-if-I-mess-up smile, he began to sing quietly in his warm tenor.

Leaning against the railing, arms crossed, she watched him and felt a wave of contentment. She held out her hand and examined her glittering ring, made from the emeralds Jack and Neal had dug out of a gem mine especially for her. Unbeknownst to her, the father-son adventure weekend they’d taken last summer was for the express purpose of finding stones for her ring. To have Neal involved in the gem hunt was a majorly smart move on Jack’s part, especially because her stepson still watched her warily, worried that she’d try to replace his mother. The stones weren’t particularly high quality, but Linny didn’t care. She loved the ring.

Jack missed a chord and winced. Noticing her ring studying, a smile played at his lips.

Linny smiled back. Ruthie, the office manager in Jack’s veterinary practice, said that after Vera divorced Jack, some women clients feigned reasons to bring their pets in for appointments just to spend time with him. “A woman with a poodle named Precious claimed the dog had ADHD, and another time a tummy ache-toothache-itching issue,” she’d said, rolling her eyes and patting Linny’s arm. “So glad he fell for you.”

Thank goodness he was the type of man who was oblivious to his own charms, unlike her late hound-dog of a second husband. But banish the thought. She wasn’t going to allow regrets to tarnish the present. Linny slid into the rocking chair beside his and sipped her wine. After a moment she began to softly sing along with him. No volume from her. She was prone to sudden scale changes and croaks.

A phone trilled from the kitchen and Jack gave her a smile as he put down the guitar and went to take the call.

His son, Neal—her new stepson, she reminded herself—had called to talk with his dad twice each of the three nights they’d been on their honeymoon. Was that normal for a twelve-year-old? A lot of the other stepmothers in the Bodacious Bonus Moms—the online support and advice blog she'd been reading voraciously for the last few months—complained about their teenage stepchildren not sharing a word with them or their husbands because they were too busy texting and Snapchatting friends.

Linny took a sip of wine and thought about it. How much did Neal’s clinginess have to do with his mother, Vera, and her new husband bickering? Petite Vera, with her little-girl voice and perfect white-blond loveliness, reminded Linny of an airy, sweet pink confection, but with her sense of entitlement and demands, she was no cream puff. Her husband, Chaz, was a trial lawyer, and no pushover either. She could see why they butted heads. And with Vera’s moneyed background and silver-spoon tastes, her wealthy new husband getting into hot water and losing a lot of his—no, their—money probably didn’t sit well with her. Linny felt a flash of mean-spirited pleasure that perfect Vera was having problems, then chided herself. Tension in that household hurt Neal and she didn’t want that.

Jack came back to the porch, rubbing a spot between his brows and talking on the phone in that soothing voice he used with scared animals at his veterinary clinic. “So they’re fighting nonstop. Can you just go to your room and turn on the white noise app on your phone?” He paused and scowled. “That loud, huh?”

Jack looked at her. “Can you hold on, buddy?” He put the phone to his chest, his expression serious. “He’s crying and he never cries. I’d send him to the grandparents, but they’re all out of town.”

Linny inhaled sharply and racked her brain. “My sister loves Neal to pieces, but she’s so overwhelmed with her new baby. I could call her, though…” she said.

Jack shook his head slowly, his face tight. “We need to go home, Lin. Neal needs us.”

Linny nodded mutely, feeling bereft. There went her week-long honeymoon, right out the window. She gazed off for one last long look at the rolling land of the valley and slumped in her chair.

Jack spoke to Neal calmly. “We’ll be back this evening and you’re going to come stay with us for a while until things simmer down.” He paused, listening, and his voice grew firm. “I don’t care if your mama doesn’t like it. I’ll deal with her. Right now, everybody needs to just settle down.” He ended the call and sent her an apologetic look. “Lin…” he began.

She held up a hand and tried to smile. “I understand, Jack. I really do.” Rising, she trudged in to begin packing, trying to fight the disappointment crashing down on her like a great wave. She and Jack had the rest of their lives to spend together, she reasoned, but it didn’t help.

Vera and Chaz were selfish, Linny thought as she thunked the milk, yogurt, and luncheon meat into the cooler she was packing with unnecessary vigor.

Gathering their toiletries and clothes to put in the suitcase, her heart squeezed for Neal. The last thing a sensitive boy like him needed was a ringside seat to the fight of the century. Going home was the right thing to do.

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About the Author

Susan has an undergraduate degree from James Madison University and a master’s degree (MSW) from The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has used her professional background as a psychotherapist and corporate trainer to add authenticity to her characters.

Susan is a wife, a stepmother, and a dog lover. She and her family live near Raleigh, North Carolina where she is busy finishing up the third novel in the Willow Hill Series.

Connect: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Spotlight: Cards From Khloe's Flower Shop by Isabella Louise Anderson

About the Book

As the owner of a successful florist shop, Khloe Harper trusts her instincts. She has a strong bond with her family and friends, but after being betrayed by her last love, she's kept herself at arms’ length from romance. When dashing entertainment attorney Derek Thomas walks into her store, Khloe’s interest is piqued. What at first seems like a business relationship quickly turns into romance, and Derek slowly plucks away the petals she’s been hiding behind. Just as Khloe lets down her guard, she discovers that Derek may not be worthy of her love after all.

Frumpy Connie Albright has a faux fascination with an imaginary man named Walt, thinking that by sending herself flowers from him she’ll feel less out-of-place with the “mean girls” she works with. When she comes face to face with her possible prince charming and thinking she might have a happy ending, when a truth is revealed, she wonders if she’ll ever have a Cinderella story.

A recently widowed senior, Gabby Lewis, isn't ready to give up on love—which means releasing herself from survivor's guilt and taking a chance on finding happiness and companionship again. After signing up for an online dating site for senior citizens, much to her surprise, she’s matched with Harry, an energetic and loving man, who quickly eases himself into her heart. Will Gabby take the leap of falling in love again, knowing it’s possible to have two loves of her life?

As each woman’s story develops through flowers and cards sent from Khloe's shop during the fall months, they begin to learn that love can only truly blossom when you trust your heart.

Excerpt

It was a perfect kind of day. The rising sun warmed the chill in the air, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and a light breeze tousled Khloe’s long auburn hair. After sliding her key in the lock of her flower shop, she inhaled the intoxicating scents of gardenias, sweet peas, magnolias, along with her personal favorite—roses—and they tickled her nose. She smiled, thinking how the aroma of flowers made for a great start to the day.

Six days a week, at eight in the morning, Khloe sat in her office at the back of the store to return emails and process online orders. While it wasn’t a big office, it had turned out just as she’d designed it. Three walls were painted starfish orange, and various posters of flowers, including several Georgia O’Keeffe prints (gifts from her parents after opening her store), scattered the walls. Her cherry wood desk sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, which overlooked a row of rose bushes that she’d planted to make the gray slate building across the street less of an offense to look at, especially when she brought customers back to her office for meetings. Across the room was a square glass coffee table, which was made to look like a table at a dinner party with four place settings. In the center lay a large floral arrangement with fall-like colors of oranges and red roses, along with mini pine cones dispersed throughout, which Khloe had designed herself. Customers always praised the beautiful seasonal arrangements she created for the table, and these often helped make a sale for weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries, and even funerals.

After working for three florists during high school and college, Khloe knew she wanted to work in the floral business. Soon after graduating college with a degree in business, her then-boss promoted her to store manager. After six years, she felt she’d gained enough knowledge about the to open her own shop. She gave her two weeks’ notice, secured a loan, and opened Khloe’s Flower Shop. While it took time for things to get started and run smoothly, sales finally picked up, and just before Christmas, her store flourished. That was last year, and she had high expectations for the upcoming holiday season. Owning her shop meant everything to her, especially because it distracted her from her non-existent love life.

Right then, her phone rang.

“Hi, Mom,” Khloe said, after checking the caller-ID on her cell phone, plopping herself down, and taking a seat at her desk.

“You sound perky,” Linda joked, commenting on Khloe’s monotonous tone.

After toggling the mouse to wake up her computer, Khloe observed the numerous overnight orders that had come in. “It’s just going to be another crazy and busy day at the shop.”

“That’s great, honey. I’m very happy your store is doing so well, but maybe it’s time to focus your efforts on finding yourself a man. Like I’ve told you, I had a lot of trouble conceiving you because I was in my early forties, and don’t forget, you’re not getting any younger. I’d love to be able to play with my grandchildren.”

At thirty-one, the only child of Linda and Kyle Harper, Khloe was never pushed to be perfect or meet her parents’ desires, but just as she had when she was a young girl, on occasion, she still felt the need to please her parents.

“Mom, we’ve gone over this a hundred times, and right now, my shop takes up all of my time.” In truth, it didn’t, but Khloe wasn’t ready to have her heart broken again.

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry to hound you about it, but I want you to be happy—really happy.” She paused, then added in a softer tone, “I just wish you wouldn’t be afraid to get back out there. I mean, after Josh hurt you...”

Just the mention of Josh’s name was enough. “Mom, I know you and Dad thought I’d marry Josh, but he really hurt me.” She covered half of her face with her hand and tried to shake the memory away, but like a strong wind, the memory of his betrayal swooped in, causing her to relive the pain.

“I appreciate your sentiment and know you want only the best for me, but I’m doing okay.”

“If you say so, dear, but if those bells on your door chime, and Mr. Right walks through, take him by the hand, marry him, and give me grandchildren.” Her mother’s over-excitement stung Khloe’s ears. She loved her mother, but sometimes she was too brash.

“Mom, please—”

Her mother sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to dig into your love life, but know I’m always here to listen. Anyway,” she began with enthusiasm as she changed the subject, “your father and I went to the Mumm winery over the weekend, and we shipped you two more cases. You should be expecting them within the next few days.”

“Thanks,” Khloe said, trying to sound thrilled as she leaned back in her chair and saw the five wooden cases she’d received last week, having taken only one home. “It’s definitely a perk when I pull out a bottle meeting with my customers, and, as you know, it’s my favorite. Oh, and how’s Dad, by the way?” she asked, changing the topic.

“As a matter of fact, right now, for the third time this week, he’s out with his golf buddies. One would’ve never known he’s a cancer survivor.”

Khloe laughed, feeling her heart warm, thankful that her dad was well taken care of by his doctors. “Well, I’m glad to hear things haven’t changed and he’s doing well.” At the sound of a ding, her computer signaled another order had come in. “Well, Mom, I have to go, but give Dad my best and tell him I love him.” After they said their goodbyes, Khloe hung up with her mother and got to work.

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About the Author

Isabella grew up with a book in her hand, and to this day nothing has changed. She focuses her time on featuring other writers on her blog, Chick Lit Goddess, along with organizing Goddess Book Tours, and is a member of the Romance Writers of America

She lives in Dallas with her husband, enjoys spicy Mexican food, margaritas, gin on the rocks (with a splash of lime). She loves spending time with family and friends and cheering on the Texas Rangers. Not only is Isabella an author, she’s also a Scentsy consultant and hoarder.

Isabella is the author of The Right Design and Cards From Khloe’s Flower Shop. Her short story, “Meet Me Under the Mistletoe,” was featured in Simon & Fig’s Christmas anthology, Merry & Bright. She’s currently working on another book.

Connect: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS

First Look Celebration: MEANT FOR YOU by Michelle Major

Will a ploy to impress old high school classmates turn into a second chance at love for Jenny and Owen? Find out in MEANT FOR YOU by Michelle Major.

Synopsis

Single mom Jenny Castelli has a temper to match her red hair. When the former mean girls of her high school insult her son, Jenny fires off a big lie—that she’s engaged to a rich, handsome guy and is bringing him to their ten-year reunion. Now she needs to find the perfect fake fiancé for one night. And only one man fits the bill.

Geek turned tech entrepreneur Owen Dalton already had his heart broken by Jenny Castelli. Still, he finds himself agreeing to her proposition—even as he struggles to remember that the chemistry sparking between them isn’t real. But when Jenny’s ex makes a play for custody and Owen is forced to deal with the family who always treated him as “second best,” their arrangement suddenly becomes very personal. And that lie they’ve been telling everyone? It isn’t nearly as big as the one they’ve been telling themselves.

Excerpt

Jenny Castelli stood in the lobby of Dalton Enterprises later that afternoon, taking in the impressive view of the Front Range from the floor-to-ceiling windows on one side of the space.

Owen had purchased the building on the south side of Denver a few years ago. She’d met him when Rocky Mountain Landscapes had been hired to create the landscape plan for the newly renovated building. The native grasses she’d planted waved in the warm summer breeze.

The project had been one of the first she’d managed, and she’d had a hand in every piece of the design. It had also given her the chance to get to know Owen, who was one of the kindest, most authentic men she’d ever met, despite his power and wealth.

He was way too good for someone like her, so she’d sabotaged their burgeoning relationship only months after they’d started dating. He’d remained friendly, if distant, when they’d seen each other at Ty and Kendall’s wedding last summer, but how would he react to what she was about to propose?

Her stomach lurched. She was about to propose to Owen Dalton. She glanced down and almost groaned out loud at the realization she was wearing her work boots from earlier that day. She’d stopped at her house on the way from lunch to change into a casual denim dress and slap a little makeup on her face. She tried to smooth her wild hair, but most days it had a mind of its own, so she settled for a braid at the back of her head. The more time she took to get ready, the more nervous she’d become, until she’d given up on making herself presentable and rushed over before she lost her nerve. That had clearly led to her stuffing her feet back in the scuffed and worn boots instead of the pair of ballet flats she’d planned to wear.

She couldn’t possibly go through with it, and she turned to flee just as a feminine voice called, “Ms. Castelli?” The older woman, with silver hair in a spiked pixie cut and wearing tailored pants and a fitted jacket, gave her an assessing look. “Mr. Dalton will see you now.”

Jenny’s gaze darted to the exit, then to the young woman staring at her from the receptionist’s desk, then back to the secretary, who raised a brow as if daring Jenny to make her escape.

“Right,” Jenny muttered. “Let’s do this thing.”

The woman pursed her lips, then turned and headed down a hall without another word. Jenny felt the eyes of the workers in the airy open-concept office boring into her as she hurried to catch up to the secretary.

“Employees here seem pretty curious,” she murmured, wondering if she was imagining the disapproving energy that seemed to be surging toward her like the tide.

“We’re protective of Owen,” the woman told her.

Jenny was used to disapproval. Her knee-jerk reaction was to get defensive, but she couldn’t muster a bit of temper. She’d convinced herself and her friends that she needed to do this for Cooper. Jenny would do anything to take care of her son. He was truly her one best thing in life.

Suddenly she wished she’d taken Kendall’s advice and come clean about her story, or Sam’s suggestion of hiring an escort. It would have been a lot easier than facing Owen.

But Jenny was there. With how jumbled the rest of her life felt, somehow she couldn’t admit that she’d made up the story of her engagement. It might be the tiny push that sent her over the edge. If she could prove—even for one night—that she had things together, maybe she’d begin to believe it herself.

She turned to the secretary as they reached a closed door at the end of the work space. “I’m not going to hurt him,” she said softly.

The woman only stared at her until Jenny added, “Again.”

“I remember how happy he was with you,” the woman answered with a slight nod.

“I don’t think we ever officially met.” Jenny held out a hand. “Jenny Castelli.”

After a moment, the woman slipped her hand into Jenny’s but pulled it away seconds later. “I’m Diane Bricker.”

“Owen is lucky to have someone so loyal working for him.” He deserved to be surrounded by people who would take care of him. He was too nice for his own good, and he needed protection from people who would take advantage of that. People like Jenny.

The secretary inclined her head toward the massive door of a corner office. “I don’t like to see him sad.”

“Me neither,” Jenny agreed honestly, because although she’d broken his heart, she still told herself she’d done it for the right reasons. She let herself into Owen’s office and closed the door behind her.

He glanced up from his computer as the door clicked shut but didn’t rise to greet her, which was odd, because Owen Dalton was a gentleman. Yet she barely recognized the man staring at her from behind the massive reclaimed-wood desk. The Owen she knew wore sweater vests and wire-rimmed glasses, the faint hint of high school science club always surrounding him.

This man was dressed in a crisp white shirt that had to have been custom made for him. It fit perfectly over his strong shoulders and stretched across the hard planes of his chest. She could see his defined biceps as he lifted a hand to tap a key on his keyboard.

Wait a minute. When did nerdy Owen Dalton get biceps?

“What happened to you?” she asked without thinking. A muscle ticking in his jaw was her only answer. “You don’t even look like . . . you.”

One corner of his mouth curved, but even that felt unfamiliar. Owen had a huge smile, sweet and a little goofy. Nothing like the man in front of her. “Did you come here to talk about my appearance, Jenny?”

She blew out a breath. His voice hadn’t changed. It was still soft and rich like hot buttered caramel. The way he said her ordinary name like it was the most precious word he’d ever spoken made shivers run the length of her body. Her physical reaction to him was dangerous, a piece of the equation she couldn’t control, and another reason the whole thing was a huge mistake.

It wasn’t too late. She could walk away before she made herself the biggest fool in the history of fools. Instead she took a breath. “I came here to ask you to marry me.”

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About Michelle Major

Michelle Major grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. More than twenty years ago, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Today her home includes her husband, their two children, several furry pets, and a couple of well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion for writing stories with happy endings

Connect with Michelle: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon

Spotlight: Romancing Dr. Love by Rebecca Heflin

About the Book

Dr. Samantha Love says it’s all about the chemistry. A brainy psychology professor and researcher, Sam has based her entire academic career on the theory that what we call love is simply a chemical reaction. She is currently running a study to prove that her compatibility blood test reveals perfect matches—sort of like an organ donor, but for relationships. No romance required.

Along comes sexy literature professor, Dr. Ethan Quinn, who says it’s all about the romance. He thinks the pretty psychology professor has taken love and all its mysteries and reduced it to something as romantic as a cholesterol test, and he sets out to prove her theory wrong.

When Ethan signs up for her study, Sam discovers to her horror, that according to her compatibility test, they are a perfect match. Sam faces an existential crisis over her career and her research. If she believes in her science, shouldn’t it follow that she believes Ethan is her perfect mate? And if she doesn’t believe he’s her perfect mate, doesn’t that bring into question her research? Her compatibility test? Her reputation? And her very career?

As Sam struggles with her dilemma, Ethan pursues her with all the romantic tactics in his arsenal. Will Sam’s theories succumb to his challenge? Or will Ethan lose the battle for Sam’s heart?

Excerpt

“No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening,” Samantha Love muttered as she gently banged her head against the steering wheel.

She turned the key again. Nothing. Not even a wheeze. This was the icing on the cake of her otherwise craptastic day.

A bead of sweat trickled down her back. And another one between her girls. God, she hated boob sweat.

When she’d taken the research and teaching position at Sterling University in North Georgia last fall, she’d never have guessed the summer would be so hot.

Throwing open the door of her car to let in even more stifling heat, she searched for the lever to pop the hood. Finally locating it, she pulled it, then walked around to the front of the car. As if she knew what to do.

Just as she leaned under the hood to jiggle some wire thingies, she heard, “Dr. Love? Do you need some help?”

She let out a startled squeak hitting her head on the underside of the hood. “Ow!” Rubbing the offended spot, she turned and saw Ethan Quinn standing there looking all adorable. Not to mention manly.

Dammit. Why did it have to be him? “No. I’m fine.” Yeah, right. For all her parents’ preaching on women and self-sufficiency, she didn’t know a dipstick from a spark plug when it came to cars. She turned back to the mystery parts under the hood.  

“You need a jump.”

“I beg your pardon?” She spun, hand on her hip.

“Your battery.” He pointed in the direction of her open hood. “It probably needs a jump.”

“Oh. Right.” Of course he meant her battery. What else would he be talking about?

“I have jumper cables in my car. I’ll have you going in a few minutes.”

“He’ll have me going in a few minutes,” she mumbled under her breath as she watched him walk to the far corner of the parking lot. Tall, athletic build, dark-wash jeans, white button-down shirt. And that hair. Tousled espresso-brown waves just brushing the top of his collar. “He’s already got me going,” she said to herself.

He tossed his messenger bag in the car and climbed in. And, of course, his car started. Because that’s what cars did. They started when you turned the key. Then they blew cold air, so you didn’t have to stand in the mid-July Georgia heat. Unless they dated back to the Stone Age like hers. Another bead of sweat trickled between her breasts.

She released a wistful sigh. Bet the AC felt good.

He pulled his recent model American-made car around to face hers and then got out to pop the hood. Walking around to the trunk, he opened it and grabbed a set of jumper cables, looking like he knew what he was doing.

Good thing somebody around here did.

“It’s a hot one today,” Ethan commented, as he connected one of the clamp doohickeys to what she assumed was the car battery. His sleeves were rolled up over his forearms, displaying muscles with a light dusting of hair.

Clamping the other end of the cables to his own battery, he then returned to her car. When he walked past her, his cologne wafted to her nose, temporarily erasing her angst at being in his presence.

Then he touched his hand to her back. And the anxiety returned tenfold. “Stand clear.” He leaned into the gaping mouth of the car and attached the remaining clamp, throwing a spark.

“All right. Let’s see if we can get this baby going.” He climbed into the driver’s seat of his car and turned it on.

“Give her a try,” he hollered over the din of his car’s running motor.

Sam dropped into the front seat and turned the key. The older-than-dirt engine tried but couldn’t work up enough energy to turn over.

“Hold on,” Ethan called, then revved his car. “Okay, try her again.”

Her car wheezed then reluctantly cranked a couple of times before coming to life.

Ethan was at her door, leaning over, hands braced on the roof. “Great. Let her run a bit, then I’ll disconnect the cables.” A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “My AC’s on full blast. Why don’t you sit in my car until yours is ready to go.” He stepped aside to give her room to get out.

Sam felt as wilted as week-old lettuce, so against her better judgment she took him up on the offer.

He opened the front passenger door of his shiny black Lincoln MKS—such a gentleman—and she sank into the leather seats and stuck her face in front of the vent. God, it felt good. The door closed with a solid thunk. Resisting the urge to wipe away the boob sweat, she settled for drying the perspiration on her face and neck.

The car dipped as Ethan took a seat on the driver’s side before shutting the door and closing out the rest of the world. Music played softly in the background—something popular. The intimacy of being alone in the car with Ethan washed over her.

“I’d offer you something cool to drink, but I don’t have anything.”

She realized she hadn’t said a word in the last five minutes. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. You’d do the same for me.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” She smiled. “I don’t know a thing about cars.”

He nodded as a grin split his face. “Well, from the looks of your battery, you’re going to need a new one. I can follow you to Burt’s Automotive. He can have a replacement installed in fifteen minutes.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out in any further.”

“It’s no trouble. Besides, if you go straight home, I don’t think she’s going to start for you in the morning.”

“Oh.” That would not be good.

“She should be juiced up enough to get you to Burt’s. Stay here until I unhook the cables.” Ethan got out of the car and set to work.

She’d steered clear of Ethan Quinn since the day she was introduced to the rest of the college faculty. The moment they shook hands she’d felt a connection. And from the look on his face, he’d felt it too. That flood of adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin one feels when there is a strong physical attraction.

Relationships were complicated, but getting situated at a new university was already complicated enough.

No. Being in close proximity to Ethan Quinn was a bad idea. So as much as she hated to leave the cool comfort of his car, she jumped out and got in her rolling oven before he could say otherwise.

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About the Author

Rebecca Heflin is an award-winning author who has dreamed of writing romantic fiction since she was fifteen and her older sister snuck a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss' Shanna to her and told her to read it. Rebecca writes women's fiction and contemporary romance. When not passionately pursuing her dream, Rebecca is busy with her day-job as a practicing attorney. 

Rebecca is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Florida Romance Writers, RWA Contemporary Romance, and Florida Writers Association. She and her mountain-climbing husband live at sea level in sunny Florida.

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Spotlight: So Screwed by Melissa Marino

About the Book

He's charming, wicked, and handsome . . . and she needs to stay away
 
For Evelyn Owen, work comes first. Being a wedding planner to the city's elite fills her nights and weekends, and she doesn't have time for distractions. Especially in the form of a sexy bartender with killer dimples . . .
 
Abel Matthews knows how to serve the ladies. But lately, the only woman he wants is just out of reach. That's because Evelyn has already been warned about his playboy ways. Still, there's something about her that makes Abel want more than a quick fling.
 
Evelyn knows that she shouldn't trust Abel. Yet she's seen a side of him no one else knows, and she can't turn away. But Abel is hiding something from her . . . and if he doesn't confess soon, it will tear them apart.

Excerpt

As the door clicked shut, I found myself pushed up against it, Abel pressing his body into me. He swooped down, pressing his lips tightly to mine before opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to find mine. Deep kisses, his hands in my hair and mine gripping the back of his neck, led to a now-familiar sigh falling from his lips.

“That’s more like it,” he mumbled against my mouth. “I missed you.”

The words, along with his beard, tickled me inside and out. He missed me. It was like Callie had said—we were gooey. He smiled and rested his hands on my hips. His fingers fumbled around the middle of the jumpsuit I was wearing before he reached around my back, his hands smoothing across to my ass.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Trying to find your skin so I can touch you.”

I stifled a moan because it was the exact thing that made me weak. His moves in bed were amazing, but he had perfected his art of words very well. I would’ve liked to have attributed it to his English major background, but I knew better. He had a lot of practice.

“You can keep trying,” I said. “But it’s a jumpsuit. It’s all connected.”

He grabbed my ass, giving it a squeeze. “That’s too bad. What else is too bad is I’m pretty sure you’re not wearing underwear.”

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About the Author

Melissa Marino is a full-time writer and part-time Storm Trooper collector. When she's not writing, you can find her watching Friends reruns, mastering her cupcake frosting swirl and hunting for the perfect red lipstick. Melissa lives in Chicago with her husband, son and very opinionated dachshund.

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Spotlight: Long Road Home by Marie Meyer

About the Book

Sometimes getting lost is the only way to find your way home…
 
I’m grateful for many things—my work, my apartment, my amazing friends.  But after that night years ago, I’m left with an aching weight I can’t escape.  And it’s keeping me from living and loving the way I desperately want.  So when a ruggedly handsome cop pulls me over, I’m shocked by what just the sight of him does to me—stirring up feelings I didn’t think were possible again. 
 
Cayden Sinclair is undoubtedly one of the good guys.  A former Marine who’s so sexy I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself.  But there are things I’m not ready to share, things that could change everything between us.  Cayden deserves to have the life he’s always wanted—which means walking away from him.  But I don’t know if I’ll ever find the strength to let him go…

Excerpt

I open the door for Ren, help her down, then fold her seat forward and grab my hiking gear from the back. I’ve got a couple GPS devices, bottles of water, bug spray, power bars, first-aid kit, flashlight, batteries, multipurpose tool, and matches. I went for the smaller backpack knowing we wouldn’t be doing any major hiking today. I’ll go easy on her, I want there to be a second date.

Before shouldering the pack, I unzip it and pull out a can of bug spray. Remembering the subtle wafts of Ren’s tropical perfume and baby powder scent back at her apartment, I toss her the can. “You’re going to need this. Being this close to the river, the area is a breeding ground for mosquitoes.”

Ren catches the can and pops the lid off. “Thanks.” She sighs and extends her left arm, making several passes. A heavy mist coats her skin and she repeats the process over her other arm, her long, slender legs, neck, and then turns the can and showers her clothes and hair.

I chuckle at her excessiveness. “Hopefully it’s just the bugs you’re trying to keep away.”

A sheepish smile tugs at the corner of her bow-shaped mouth. She wrinkles her nose and my heart skips a beat. “I hate to admit this, but I’m terrified of bugs. And…” She hesitates. “I’m not really the outdoorsy type.”

I step closer and wrap my hands around her fingers that are still clinging to the can of Off! like it’s a cross, warding away vampires. “Stay close, I’ll keep you safe,” I say, slowly lifting the can free from her grip.

She no longer smells of citrus, but like she bathed in DEET. She may repel every six- and eight-legged critter in a hundred-mile radius, but I’m more attracted to her than ever. Off!, bug repellant and aphrodisiac. I know it’s too soon to kiss her, but damn if I don’t want to.

She lets out a breath. “Lucky for me.”

“Mind if I use this?” I hold up the can between us.

I don’t take my eyes off her, while I give my arms and legs a quick spray. “Glad you saved me some.” I wink and stuff the can back in my bag.

“Oh, I bet you have another can in there somewhere, Boy Scout.”

She isn’t wrong, I do have more, but I can’t help but tease her.

“Boy Scout? Try Marine.”

“You’re a Marine and a cop?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

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About the Author

Marie Meyer is a teacher who spends her days in the classroom and her nights writing heartfelt romances. She is a proud mommy and enjoys helping her oldest daughter train for the Special Olympics, making up silly stories with her youngest daughter, and bingeing on weeks of DVR'd television with her husband.
 
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Enter to win 1 of 15 free ebook downloads of Long Road Home