Read an excerpt from Only Child by Rhiannon Navin

Readers of Jodi Picoult and Liane Moriarty will also like this tenderhearted debut about healing and family, narrated by an unforgettable six-year-old boy who reminds us that sometimes the littlest bodies hold the biggest hearts and the quietest voices speak the loudest.
 
Squeezed into a coat closet with his classmates and teacher, first grader Zach Taylor can hear gunshots ringing through the halls of his school. A gunman has entered the building, taking nineteen lives and irrevocably changing the very fabric of this close-knit community. While Zach’s mother pursues a quest for justice against the shooter’s parents, holding them responsible for their son’s actions, Zach retreats into his super-secret hideout and loses himself in a world of books and art. Armed with his newfound understanding, and with the optimism and stubbornness only a child could have, Zach sets out on a captivating journey towards healing and forgiveness, determined to help the adults in his life rediscover the universal truths of love and compassion needed to pull them through their darkest hours.

Excerpt

[1]

The Day the Gunman Came

The thing I later remembered the most about the day the gunman came was my teacher Miss Russell’s breath. It was hot and smelled like coffee. The closet was dark except for a little light that was coming in through the crack of the door that Miss Russell was holding shut from inside. There was no door handle on the inside, only a loose metal piece, and she pulled it in with her thumb and pointer finger.

“Be completely still, Zach,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”

I didn’t. Even though I was sitting on my left foot and it was giving me pins and needles and it hurt a lot.

Miss Russell’s coffee breath touched my cheek when she talked, and it bothered me a little. Her fingers were shaking on the metal piece. She had to talk to Evangeline and David and Emma a lot behind me in the closet, because they were crying and were not being completely still.

“I’m here with you guys,” Miss Russell said. “I’m protecting you. Shhhhhhh, please be quiet.” We kept hearing the POP sounds outside. And screaming.

POP POP POP

It sounded a lot like the sounds from the Star Wars game I sometimes play on the Xbox.

POP POP POP

Always three pops and then quiet again. Quiet or screaming. Miss Russell did little jumps when the POP sounds came and her whispering got faster. “Don’t make a sound!” Evangeline made hiccupping sounds.

POP Hick POP Hick POP Hick

I think someone peed in their underwear, because it smelled like that in the closet. Like Miss Russell’s breath and pee, and like the jackets that were still wet from when it rained at recess. “Not too much to play outside,” Mrs. Colaris said. “What, are we made of sugar?” The rain didn’t bother us. We played soccer and cops and bad guys, and our hair and jackets got wet. I tried to turn and put my hand up and touch the jackets to see if they were still very wet.

“Don’t move,” Miss Russell whispered to me. She switched hands to hold the door closed, and her bracelets made jingling sounds. Miss Russell always wears a lot of bracelets on her right arm. Some have little things called charms hanging off them that remind her of special things, and when she goes on vacation she always gets a new charm to remember it. When we started first grade, she showed us all her charms and told us where she got them from. Her new one that she got on the summer break was a boat. It’s like a tiny version of the boat she went on to go really close to a huge waterfall called Niagara Falls, and that’s in Canada.

My left foot really started to hurt a lot, and I tried to pull it out only a little so Miss Russell wouldn’t notice.

We just came in from recess and put our jackets in the closet, then math books out, when the POP sounds started. At first we didn’t hear them loud—they were like all the way down the hallway in the front where Charlie’s desk is. When parents come to pick you up before dismissal or at the nurse’s office, they always stop at Charlie’s desk and write down their name and show their driver’s license and get a tag that says visitor on a red string, and they have to wear it around their neck.

Charlie is the security guy at McKinley, and he’s been here for thirty years. When I was in kindergarten, last year, we had a big party in the auditorium to celebrate his thirty years. Even a lot of parents came because he was the security guy already when they were kids and went to McKinley, like Mommy. Charlie said he didn’t need a party. “I already know everyone loves me,” he said, and laughed his funny laugh. But he got a party anyway, and I thought he looked happy about it. He put up all the artwork we made for him for the party around his desk and took the rest home to hang it up. My picture for him was right in the middle at the front of his desk because I’m a really good artist.

Pop pop pop

Quiet pop sounds at first. Miss Russell was right in the middle of telling us about what pages in the math book were for classwork and what pages were for homework. The pop sounds made her stop talking, and she made wrinkles on her forehead. She walked over to the classroom door and looked out of the glass window. “What the . . . ,” she said.

Pop pop pop

Then she took a big step back away from the door and said, “Fuck.” She really did. The F-word, we all heard it and started laughing. “Fuck.” Right after she said it, we heard sounds coming from the intercom on the wall, and then a voice said, “Lockdown, lockdown, lockdown!” It wasn’t Mrs. Colaris’s voice. When we practiced lockdown drill before, Mrs. Colaris said, “Lockdown!” through the intercom, once, but this voice said it a lot of times, fast.

Miss Russell’s face got whitish and we stopped laughing because she looked so different and wasn’t smiling at all. The way her face looked all of a sudden made me scared, and my breath got stuck in my throat.

Miss Russell did a couple circles by the door like she didn’t know where she should walk. Then she stopped doing circles and locked the door and switched the lights off. No sun was coming in from the windows because of the rain, but Miss Russell went to the windows and pulled the shades down anyway. She started talking very fast and her voice sounded shaky and like squeaky. “Remember what we practiced for the lockdown drill,” she said. I remembered that lockdown meant don’t go outside like for the fire alarm, but stay inside and out of sight.

POP POP POP

Someone outside in the hallway screamed very loud. My legs started shaking around the knees.

“Boys and girls, everyone in the closet,” Miss Russell said.

When we practiced lockdown drill before, it was fun. We pretended that we were the bad guys and only sat in the closet for like a minute until we heard how Charlie opened the classroom door from the outside with his special key that can open all the doors in the school, and we heard him say: “It’s me, Charlie!” and that was the sign that the drill was over. Now I didn’t want to go in the closet because almost everyone else was already in there, and it looked too smushed. But Miss Russell put her hand on my head and pushed me in.

“Hurry, guys, hurry,” Miss Russell said. Evangeline especially and David and some other kids started to cry and said they wanted to go home. I felt tears coming in my eyes, too, but I didn’t want to let them come out and all my friends were going to see. I did the squeeze-away trick I learned from Grandma: you have to squeeze your nose on the outside with your fingers, the part where it goes from hard to soft, and then your tears don’t come out. Grandma taught me the squeeze-away trick at the playground one day when I was about to cry because someone pushed me off the swing and Grandma said, “Don’t let them see you cry.”

Miss Russell got everyone in the closet and pulled the door shut. The whole time we could hear the POP sounds. I tried to count them in my head.

POP—1 POP—2 POP—3

My throat felt very dry and scratchy. I really wanted a drink of water.

POP—4 POP—5 POP—6

“Please, please, please,” Miss Russell whispered. And then she talked to God and she called him “Dear Lord” and I couldn’t understand the rest she said because she was whispering so quiet and fast and I think she wanted only God to hear.

POP—7 POP—8 POP—9

Always three POPs and then a break.

Miss Russell all of a sudden looked up and said, “Fuck,” again. “My phone!” She opened the door a little and when there weren’t any POP sounds for a while she opened it all the way and ran across the classroom to her desk with her head ducked down. Then she ran back to the closet. She pulled the door closed again and told me to hold the metal piece this time. I did, even though it hurt my fingers and the door was heavy to keep closed. I had to use both hands.

Miss Russell’s hands were shaking so much they made the phone shake when she swiped and put her password in. She kept doing it wrong, and when you put the wrong password in all the numbers on the screen shake and you have to start over. “Come on, come on, come on,” Miss Russell said, and finally she got the password right. I saw it: 1989.

POP—10 POP—11 POP—12

I watched how Miss Russell dialed 9-1-1. When I heard a voice in the phone, she said, “Yes, hi, I’m calling from McKinley Elementary. In Wake Gardens. Rogers Lane.” She talked very fast, and in the light that came from her phone I could see that she spit on my leg a little bit. I had to leave the spit there because my hands were holding the door closed. I couldn’t wipe it off, but I stared at the spit and it was there on my pants, a spit bubble, and it was gross. “There ’s a gunman at the school and he ’s . . . OK, I’ll stay on the phone with you then.” To us she whispered, “Someone already called.” Gunman. That’s what she said. And then all I could think about in my head was gunman.

POP—13 Gunman POP—14 Gunman POP—15 Gunman

I felt like it was hard to breathe now in the closet and very hot, like we used up all the air. I wanted to open the door a little to let some new air in, but I was too scared. I could feel my heart beating at super speed inside my chest and all the way up in my throat. Nicholas next to me had his eyes squeezed shut tight and was making fast breathing sounds. He was using up too much air.

Miss Russell had her eyes closed, too, but her breathing was slow. I could smell the coffee smell when she went “Huuuuuu” to let some long breaths out. Then she opened her eyes and whispered to us again. She said everyone’s name: “Nicholas. Jack. Evangeline . . .” It felt good when she said, “Zach, it will be all right.” To all of us she said, “The police are outside. They are coming to help. And I am right here.” I was glad she was right there, and her talking helped me feel not so scared. The coffee breath didn’t bother me so much anymore. I pretended it was Daddy’s breath in the morning when he was home for breakfast on the weekends. I tried coffee before and didn’t like it. It tastes too hot and old or something. Daddy laughed and said, “Good, stunts your growth anyway.” I don’t know what that means, but I really wished Daddy could be here right now. But he wasn’t, only Miss Russell and my class and the POP sounds—

POP—16 POP—17 POP—18

—sounding really loud now and screams in the hallway and more crying in the closet. Miss Russell stopped talking to us and instead she talked into the phone: “Oh God, he ’s getting closer. Are you coming? Are you coming?” Twice. Nicholas opened his eyes and said, “Oh!” and then he threw up. All over his shirt, and some throw-up got in Emma’s hair and on my shoes in the back. Emma did a loud shrieking sound and Miss Russell put her hands over Emma’s mouth. She dropped the phone and it fell in the throw-up on the floor. Through the door I could hear sirens. I’m really good at telling different sirens apart, the ones from fire trucks, police cars, ambulances . . . but now I heard so many outside that I couldn’t tell—they were all mixed together.

POP—19 POP—20 POP—21

Everything was hot and wet and smelled bad and I started to feel dizzy from it all and my stomach didn’t feel good. Then all of a sudden it was quiet. I couldn’t hear any more POPs. Just the crying and hiccupping in the closet.

And THEN there were a TON of POPs that sounded like they were right by us, a lot of them in a row, and loud sounds like stuff crashing and breaking. Miss Russell screamed and covered her ears, and we screamed and covered our ears. The closet door opened because I let go of the metal piece and light came into the closet and it hurt my eyes. I tried to keep counting the POPs, but there were too many. Then they stopped.

Everything was completely still, even us, and no one moved a muscle. It was like we weren’t even breathing. We stayed like that for a very long time—still and quiet.

Then someone was at our classroom door. We could hear the door handle, and Miss Russell let out her breath in little puffs, like “huh, huh, huh.” There was a knock on the door and a loud man voice said, “Hello, anyone in there?”

Excerpted from Only Child by Rhiannon Navin. Copyright © 2018 by Rhiannon Nevin. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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About the Author

RHIANNON NAVIN grew up in Bremen, Germany, in a family of book-crazy women. Her career in advertising brought her to New York City, where she worked for several large agencies before becoming a full-time mother and writer. She now lives outside of New York City with her husband, three children, and two cats. This is her first novel.

Read an excerpt from Still Me by JoJo Moyes

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author Jojo Moyes, a new book featuring her iconic heroine of Me Before You and After You, Louisa Clark

Louisa Clark arrives in New York ready to start a new life, confident that she can embrace this new adventure and keep her relationship with Ambulance Sam alive across several thousand miles. She steps into the world of the superrich, working for Leonard Gopnik and his much younger second wife, Agnes. Lou is determined to get the most out of the experience and throws herself into her new job and New York life. 

As she begins to mix in New York high society, Lou meets Joshua Ryan, a man who brings with him a whisper of her past. Before long, Lou finds herself torn between Fifth Avenue where she works and the treasure-filled vintage clothing store where she actually feels at home. And when matters come to a head, she has to ask herself: Who is Louisa Clark? And how do you reconcile a heart that lives in two places?

Funny, romantic, and poignant, Still Me follows Lou as she navigates how to stay true to herself, while pushing to live boldly in her brave new world.

Excerpt

Chapter Three

“Well, good morning!”

A very large man in very tight scarlet Lycra stood in front of me, his hands on his hips. I froze, blinking, in the kitchen doorway in my t-shirt and knickers, wondering if I was dreaming and whether if I closed it and opened it again he would still be there.

“You must be Miss Louisa?”

A huge hand reached out and took mine, pumping it so enthusiastically that I bobbed up and down involuntarily with it. I checked my watch. No, it really was a quarter past six.

 “I’m George. Mrs Gopnik’s trainer. I hear you’re coming out with us. Looking forward to it!”

I had woken groggily after a fitful few hours, struggling to shake off the tangled dreams that had woven themselves through my sleep, and stumbled  down the corridor on automatic pilot, a caffeine-seeking zombie. 

“Okay, Louisa! Gotta stay hydrated!”

He picked up two water bottles from the side. And then he was gone, jogging lightly down the corridor. I stood for a moment then poured myself a coffee and as I stood there sipping at it Nathan walked in, dressed and scented with aftershave. He gazed at my bare legs.

“I just met George,” I said.

“Nothing he can’t teach you about glutes. You got your running shoes, right?”

“Hah!” 

I took a sip of my coffee but when I looked up Nathan was looking at me expectantly.

“Nathan, nobody said anything about running. I’m not a runner. I mean, I am the Anti-Sport, the Sofa Dweller. You know that.”

Nathan poured himself a black coffee then replaced the coffee jug in the machine.

“Plus I fell off a building earlier this year? Remember? Lots of bits of me went crack?” I could joke about that night now, when, still grieving Will, I had drunkenly slipped from the parapet of my London home. But the twinges in my hip were a constant reminder.

“You’re fine. And you’re Mrs G’s assistant. Your job is to be at her side at all times, mate. If she wants you to go running, then you’re running.” 

He took a sip of his coffee. “Ah, don’t look so panicked. You’ll love it. You’ll be fit as a butcher’s dog within a few weeks. Everyone here does it.”

“It’s quarter past six in the morning.”

“Mr Gopnik starts at 5. We’ve just finished his physio. Mrs G likes a bit of a lie-in.”

“So we run at what time…?”

“Twenty to seven. Meet them in the main hallway. See you later!” He lifted a hand, and was gone. 

Agnes, of course, was one of those women who looked even better in the mornings; naked of face, a little blurred at the edges, but in a sexy Vaseline-on-the-lens way. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and her fitted top and jogging pants made her look casual in the same studied way that off-duty supermodels do. She loped down the corridor like a palomino racehorse in sunglasses and lifted an elegant hand in greeting, as if it were simply too early for speech. I only had a pair of shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt with me, which, I suspected, made me look like a plump labourer. I was slightly anxious that I hadn’t shaved my armpits and clamped my elbows to my sides.

“Good morning, Mrs G!” George appeared beside us and handed Agnes a bottle of water. “You all set?”

She nodded. 

“You ready, Miss Louisa? We’re just doing the four miles today. Mrs. G wants to do extra abdominal work. You’ve done your stretches, right?”

“Um – I -” I began, realising I had no water and no bottle. But we were off.

I had heard the expression ‘hit the ground running’ but until George, I had never truly understood what it meant. He set off down the corridor at what felt like 40 miles an hour and just when I thought we would at least slow for the lift, he held open the double doors at the end of the corridor so that we could sprint down the twelve flights of stairs that took us to the ground floor. We were out through the lobby and past Ashok in a blur, me just able to catch his muffled greeting. 

Dear God, but it was too early for this. I followed the two of them jogging effortlessly like a pair of carriage horses, while I sprinted behind, my shorter stride failing to match theirs, my bones jarring with the impact of each footfall, muttering my apologies as I swerved between the Kamikaze pedestrians who walked into my path. Running had been Patrick, my ex’s, thing; it was like kale – one of those things you know exists and is possibly good for you but frankly life is always going to be too short to really get stuck in.

Oh come on, you can do this, I told myself. This is your first say yes! moment. You are jogging in New York! This is a whole new you! For a few glorious strides I almost believed it. The traffic stopped, the crossing light changed, and for a moment we paused at the kerbside, George and Agnes bouncing lightly on their toes, me, unseen behind them. Then we were across and into Central Park, the path disappearing beneath our feet, the sounds of the traffic fading as we entered the green oasis at the heart of the city. 

We were barely a mile in when I realised this was really not a good idea. Even though I was now walking as much as running, my breath was already coming in wheezy gasps, my hip protesting all-too recent injuries. The furthest I had run in years was fifteen yards for a slowing bus, and I’d missed that. I glanced up to see George and Agnes were talking while they jogged, for crying out loud. I couldn’t breathe, and they were holding an honest-to-God conversation. 

I thought about a friend of Dad’s who had had a heart attack while jogging. Dad had always used it as a clear illustration of why sport was bad for you. Why had I not explained my injuries? Was I going to cough a lung out right here in the middle of the park?

“You okay back there, Miss Louisa?” George turned so that he was jogging backwards. 

“Fine!” I gave him a cheery thumbs-up.

I had always wanted to see Central Park. But not this way. I wondered what would happen if I actually keeled over and died on my first day on the job. How would they get my body home? I swerved to avoid a woman with three identical meandering toddlers. Please God, I willed the two people running effortlessly in front of me, silently. Just one of you fall over. Not to break a leg exactly, just a little sprain. One of those things that just lasts 24 hours and requires lying on a sofa with your leg up watching daytime telly. 

They were pulling away from me now and there was nothing I could do. What kind of park had actual hills in it? Mr Gopnik would be furious with me for not sticking with his wife. Agnes would realise I was a silly dumpy Englishwoman, rather than an ally. They would hire someone slim and gorgeous with better running clothes.

It was at this point that the old man jogged past me. He turned his head to glance at me and then glanced at his fitness tracker and kept going, nimble on his toes, his earphones plugged into his ears. He must have been seventy-five years old.

“Oh come on.” I said, watching him speed away from me. And then I caught sight of the horse and carriage. I pushed forward until I was level with the driver.

“Hey! Hey! Any chance you could just trot up to where those people are running?”

“What people?” 

I pointed to the tiny figures now in the far distance. He glanced over at where I was pointing then shrugged.

I climbed up on the carriage and ducked down behind him while he urged his horse forward with a light slap of the reins. Yet another New York experience that wasn’t quite as planned, I thought, as I crouched behind the driver. We drew  closer, and I tapped him to let me out. It could only have been about 500 yards but it at least got me behind them. I made to jump down.

“Forty bucks,” said the driver.

“What?”

“Forty bucks.”

“We only went 500 yards!”

“That’s what it costs, lady.”

They were still deep in conversation. I pulled two $20 notes from my back pocket and hurled them at him. And then ducked behind the carriage and started to jog just in time for George to turn around and spot me. I gave him another cheery thumbs-up as if I had been there all along.

George finally took pity on me. He spotted me limping and jogged back while Agnes did stretches, her long, thin legs extending like some double-jointed flamingo.

“Miss Louisa! You okay there?” 

At least I thought it was him. I could no longer see because of the sweat leaking into my eyes. I stopped, my hands resting on my knees, my chest heaving

“You got a problem? You’re looking a little… flushed.”

“Bit… rusty.” I gasped. “Hip… problem.”

“You got an injury? You should have said!”

“Didn’t want to …. miss any of it!” I said, wiping at my eyes with my palms. It just made them sting more.

“Where is it?”

“Left hip. Fracture. Eight months ago.”

He put his hands on my hip and then moved my left leg backwards and forwards so that he could feel it rotating. I tried not to wince.

“You know, I don’t think you should do any more today.”

“But I – ”

“No, you head on back, Miss Louisa.”

“Oh if you insist. How disappointing.”

“We’ll meet you at the apartment.” He clapped me on the back so vigorously that I nearly fell onto my face. And then with a cheery wave they were gone. 

 
 “You have fun, Miss Louisa?” said Ashok as I limped in, 45 minutes later. Turns out you could get lost in Central Park after all.

I paused to pull my sweat-soaked t-shirt away from my back.

“Marvellous. Loving it.”

When I got back to the apartment I discovered that George and Agnes had returned home a full 20 minutes before me.

Excerpted from Still Me by Jojo Moyes. Copyright © 2018 by Jojo Moyes. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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About the Author

Jojo Moyes is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of After You, Me Before You, The Horse Dancer, Paris for One and Other Stories, One Plus One, The Girl You Left Behind, The Last Letter from Your Lover, Silver Bay, and The Ship of Brides. She lives with her husband and three children in Essex, England.

Spotlight: When Love Calls by Sharon Cooper

When Love Calls

A Jenkins Family & Friends Novella by Sharon C. Cooper Publication Date: January 19, 2018 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Purchase: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks | Smashwords

Mona Lisa Gregory is ready to live her best life. She’s moving on after thirty-five years of dating one man. Scrapping the holy matrimony fantasy, a carefree and no-strings-attached passion is her new obsession. But her perfect plan has one hiccup. Dexter Jenkins. Dex is an old-school guy who believes in falling in love with one woman and living happily-ever-after. He once had it all. A great job. Money in the bank. A happy, thirty-year marriage. He lost everything he held dear after one unfortunate accident. Guilt plagued him for years, but he has finally forgiven himself. Now he’s ready to give love a try again. Mona is not looking for long-term. But Dexter is unwilling to ignore the fierce passion they share whenever he holds her in his arms. He will do whatever it takes to make her the next Mrs. Jenkins. But will secrets from his past and her former lover keep them from having the life they deserve? Or will their love be strong enough to withstand every obstacle placed in their way?

About Sharon C. Cooper

Award-winning and bestselling author, Sharon C. Cooper, is a romance-a-holic – loving anything that involves romance with a happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. Sharon writes contemporary romance, as well as romantic suspense and enjoys rainy days, carpet picnics, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She’s been nominated for numerous awards and is the recipient of an Emma Award for Romantic Suspense of the Year 2015 (Truth or Consequences), Emma Award – Interracial Romance of the Year 2015 (All You’ll Ever Need), and BRAB (book club) Award -Breakout Author of the Year 2014. When Sharon is not writing or working, she’s hanging out with her amazing husband, doing volunteer work or reading a good book (a romance of course). To read more about Sharon and her novels, visit www.sharoncooper.net

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Spotlight: His Wife by Ashley Hastings

Read for Free in KindleUnlimited: Amazon

After the tragic death of his beautiful wife, Nathan Randolph is looking for companionship. Timid Darby Turner is twenty years his junior and inexperienced in love, confidence, and life. This unlikely couple marries after a whirlwind courtship. Darby has fallen in love for sure, and Nathan encourages her to explore a dark sexuality with him. Moving to his majestic, Southern plantation home, Darby realizes she does not know her new husband at all. Soon Darby is competing with the memory of Nathan’s dead wife. Can Darby win out against a memory, or will the past destroy her new love?

About Ashley Hastings

Ashley Hastings lives with a menagerie of animals, and one day aspires to be a crazy, old cat lady. She has a starter set of three cats right now. Ashley likes to take long walks each day while she dreams about what her characters will do in the future, and is already hard at work on her next novel.

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Cover Reveal: Getting Schooled by Emma Chase

Head of the class...
Garrett Daniels has this whole life thing figured out.

The cocky, charismatic former high school star quarterback is an idolized football coach and "cool" teacher in the hometown where he's not just a golden boy — he's platinum. He has good friends, a great house on the lake, and the best damn sidekick a man could ask for: Snoopy, the albino beagle.

Then...Callie Carpenter comes home.

And knocks him right on his tight end zone.
Back to school...

Callie has a pretty sweet life herself...on the other side of the country. But circumstances — that she'd prefer to never speak of again — have brought her back home, helping out her parents and substitute teaching at her old high school.

Now she's facing bickering, raging hormones, constant gossip, awkward weirdness, and drama galore...and that's just the teachers.
Just like old times...

When Garrett offers to show his former high school sweetheart the secrets of his winning teacher ways, Callie jumps at the chance - and then has to stop herself from jumping him.

Good friends are all they can ever be.

Or...these teachers just might end up getting schooled — hard — by love.

Includes a special bonus interview with the author!

©2018 Emma Chase (P)2018 Audible Originals, LLC.

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About the Author

Emma Chase is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the hot and hilarious Tangled series and The Legal Briefs series. Emma lives in New Jersey with her husband, two children and two naughty (but really cute) dogs. She has a long-standing love/hate relationship with caffeine.

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Spotlight: Undefeated by Stuart Reardon & Jane Harvey-Berrick

A powerful contemporary romance set in the fast-moving world of international rugby.

When your world crashes down
When they all say you’re out
When your body is broken
I will rise.
I will return.
And I will be undefeated.

Nick Renshaw is the golden boy of British rugby. When a serious injury threatens his career, he starts to spiral downwards, a broken man.
Feeling abandoned and betrayed by those closest to him, he fights to restart his life. Maybe there’s someone out there who can help him. Maybe he can find his way back toward the light. Maybe … not.
Dr. Anna Scott might be the one person who can help Nick, but she has her own secrets. And when Nick’s past comes back to haunt them both, the enigmatic doctor is more vulnerable than she seems.
Broken and betrayed, the struggle to survive seems intolerable. Who will give in, and who will rise, undefeated?

Excerpt

It’s been noticed,” she began carefully, “that you’re not engaging with the team or … or with me during my teaching sessions.”

His lips pressed together and his scowl deepened.

“Look, I know this is all kinds of awkward,” she sighed, “but your behaviour is already giving Sim concerns. It’s making him wonder about your commitment to the team.”

Nick exploded, his anger filling the space as he leapt to his feet and began to pace up and down, hands scrubbing over his face roughly.

“He’s questioning my commitment?! I train harder than anyone! I train on my off-days,” he spat furiously, his voice tight with emotion.

“Nick…”

“I’m out there, slogging my fucking guts out harder and longer than anyone else during practices!”

“Nick…”

“I’ve fought to come back from injury. I’m fit! I’m ready! I…”

“NICK!” Anna slapped her hand down on the massage table. “Will you listen to me!”

His jaw snapped shut and his stormy eyes narrowed on hers.

“Sim didn’t see that commitment during my sessions.”

“And we both know why that is,” he sneered. “You don’t want any commitment from me.”

Anna’s eyebrows shot up and Nick looked as though he was already regretting his words. He took a deep breath and looked away while Anna chose her next words carefully.

“You assured me that you could be professional and…”

“Yeah, well excuse me if seeing you again is fucking with my head! Not everyone can be as cold and calculating as you!”

She knew she deserved his anger, but her own frustration was rising to meet his. The volcanic pressure inside started to build, searching for an exit, searching for weakness.

“I cannot have any sort of relationship with a client!” she hissed, her body rigid. “You know that!”

“Didn’t stop you before,” he taunted.

“You weren’t a client then,” she choked. “But you’re right—I should have stopped. Oh boy, am I regretting it now!”

And she tossed her clipboard onto the table, pointing a finger in his face.

“Are you trying to ruin this for me? Is that what this is? Your ego can’t bear it, so you’re going to make sure I lose this contract? Or maybe ruining my reputation forever will settle the score. You tell me, Nick! What do you want from me?”

She was breathing rapidly, and two points of colour marked her cheeks in an otherwise chalky complexion.

He spun around, prowling toward her, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists.

“What do I want? I want to fuck you so hard you’ll never forget it’s my cock that’s been inside you. I want you screaming my name. I want you to say it wasn’t a mistake. I want to make you come so hard you pass out. That’s what I want, Anna, and it’s fucking killing me to not even touch you!”

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About the Authors

Stuart Reardon

Stuart is a retired England International Rugby League player who’s career spanned 16 years as a professional playing for several top League clubs.  He has had several major injuries that nearly ended his career just as in Undefeated, the amazing collaboration with Jane.
Currently he is a Personal trainer living in Cheshire, and has an online fitness program: Fear Nothing Fitness.

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Jane Harvey-Berrick

I enjoy watching surfers at my local beach, and weaving stories of romance in the modern world, with all its trials and tribulations.
It’s been the best fun working with Stu on this story. And yes, he did think about joining the Marines once.

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