Spotlight: You Had Me at Cowboy by Jennie Marts

This cowboy is falling hard.

Mason James is the responsible one who stayed behind to run the ranch while his brother, Rock, took off to play professional hockey. Women have used him before to get to his brother—and Mason intends never to get burned again. But after he meets quirky Tessa Kane at his brother’s wedding, Mason discovers he’s ready to take a chance on love.

Tessa Kane is a reporter on the verge of losing a job she desperately needs—unless she’s clever enough to snag a story on the famous Rockford James. But when she falls for her subject’s brother, she’s caught between a rock and a hard-muscled cowboy. What will happen when Mason finds out who she really is?

Excerpt

The first kiss Do-over

“Looks like your ‘new friend’ has arrived,” Vivi said, a note of amusement in her tone.

Mason ignored his mom, too busy trying to quell the flurry of sensations that had just taken off in his gut. He pushed out the front door, pausing on the porch to steady himself as she parked her car next to his pickup. His border collie, Theo, raced up to greet her as she stepped from the car.

Tess had on a simple tank top and shorts, but her hair was loose and curled around her shoulders, and when she pulled off her sunglasses and smiled up at him, she took his danged breath away.

He sauntered down the porch steps, trying to act casual since he knew full well that his mother and brother would have their faces plastered to the kitchen window.

A grin broke out on his face as he approached her. Forget the food at the barbecue. Tessa Kane looked good enough to eat.

She took a step forward, and without thinking, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the barn. “Come on, I want to show you something,” he mumbled.

“What is it?” she asked as they stepped into the cool shadow of the barn.

He turned to face her, suddenly feeling awkward and shy. “Nothing. My family was just watching us, and it felt weird saying hello to you while they stared at us through the window.”

She smiled. “Understandable.”

He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “And also, I’ve had something that’s been bugging me all night, and I thought if I could take care of it right off the bat, we’d just get it out of the way and it wouldn’t be between us all afternoon.”

“Oh…kay. This sounds serious. What is it?”

“It’s about that kiss I gave you…”

Her eyes widened, then she shook her head as she stared at the ground next to his boots. “Oh yeah, that. Of course. You were probably worried that I would get the wrong idea. Or that I would think this was more than just a casual date. I know you just asked me to help with the busybodies, and that I’m just a stand-in. I get it.”

What the hell was she talking about?

“No. It’s not anything like that.” He lifted her chin, tipping her face up to his. “I just feel like maybe it wasn’t my best work.”

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips. “Oh.”

“I think if I had another chance, I could do better. You know, make it a little more memorable.”

She shrugged, looking up at him through her lashes. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “I thought it was nice.”

“Darlin’, I never want a woman to think a kiss I gave her was ‘nice.’”

A sly grin crossed her face, and she pushed her shoulders back and took a step closer. “In that case, I think you’re right.” She lifted her hands and rested them on his chest. “You’d better try again.”

He swallowed, the heat of her hands warming his chest.

She scrunched the folds of his shirt into her fists. “I’m ready when you are.” Her voice lowered, taking on a breathy tone. “But if you’re going for memorable, you’d better make it a good one.”

Holy shit. Flashes of heat darted down Mason’s spine. And through his groin.

He loved the way she looked shy one moment, then her eyes flashed with the spark of a dare the next. He couldn’t figure this woman out, but he liked her.

There was more to Tessa Kane than he’d imagined, and it would seem that she’d just thrown down a challenge. And he was up for it. If the tightening in his jeans were any indication, apparently in more ways than one.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to gaze down into her face. A light glaze of shimmery gloss coated her lips, and her cheeks were pink with color. She stared up at him, her expression holding a mixture of fear and anticipation.

He knew the feeling.

Then she pulled her bottom lip just slightly under her front teeth, and he didn’t know anything—except that he wanted that pretty, pink mouth.

Keeping one arm around her waist, he reached up with the other and slid his hand along her slender neck, feeling her pulse race under his thumb. He held her gaze, his eyes not leaving hers as he cupped her cheek in his palm.

Her lips parted, anticipating his kiss, and his own pulse galloped through his veins.

“Comin’ in hot,” he warned as he tilted her face the slimmest degree, then leaned in and lightly grazed her lips with his.

She tasted like spearmint and vanilla and something else—something that made him feel the same way he did on a warm summer night when the air was perfect, the stars were out, and the sweetest peace would settle in his soul.

A quiet sound escaped her lips, a cross between a moan and a sigh, as he pressed another soft kiss against her lips.

And it was about the sexiest sound he’d ever heard.

Her hands tightened the grip she had on his shirt, and he couldn’t hold back a grin.

“You said to make it good,” he murmured against her lips.

“Is that all you got?” she whispered back, her voice husky and breathless.

Aw hell. Now all bets were off.

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About the Author

Jennie Marts is the USA Today bestselling author of award-winning books filled with love, laughter, and always a happily ever after. She is living her own happily ever after with her husband, two dogs, and a parakeet that loves to tweet to the oldies, in the mountains of Colorado.

Spotlight: Nick and Eve by Elle Rush

Nick and Eve
Elle Rush
(North Pole Unlimited, #3)
Publication date: November 19th 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Nick’s plan: dodge his grandmother’s matchmaking attempts by claiming Eve is his date for Christmas. He probably should have asked Eve first.

Although Nick Klassen is grateful when Eve rides to his rescue after he breaks down outside of December, Manitoba, he can’t run fast enough when his meddling grandmother tries to set him up with the pretty tow-truck driver. Then he gets an idea.

Between juggling extra hours at work and a never-ending Christmas to-do list, Eve LeBlanc doesn’t have time for a new man in her life. But ever since she picked Nick up on the side of the road, she’s been running into him everywhere.

His flirtations started innocently enough but when his grandmother invites “his girlfriend” to the family’s Christmas dinner, Nick realizes if he wants to stop pretending about Eve, he must come clean. Once Eve learns of his deception, he’ll need Santa’s help to turn their fake relationship in the real thing.

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EXCERPT:

Eve rolled to a stop in the driveway. “This is impressive.” Strings of unlit Christmas lights framed his grandmother’s two-storey house and circled the spruce tree in the front yard. Plastic candy canes stuck in the snowbanks lined the sidewalk, and a pinecone-studded wreath twice the size of the one on the tow-truck’s grill hung from the screen door.

“You should see the inside. Can you wait till I’m certain her car will start? She hasn’t run it in a couple weeks,” Nick said.

His grandmother must have been watching from the window, because the front door opened before they hit the first step. “Come in, it’s freezing out here,” she said.

The entranceway and the adjacent living room were fully Christmas-bombed, from the reindeer-shaped sofa cushions to the double-decker white candy bowl stand, which had a Frosty face and top hat stuck to the top of the wire frame. Nick held back a snicker as Eve spun in a three-sixty and breathed a quiet, “Whoa.”

“You’re not kidding,” he whispered back.

“I’m Adelaide Klassen. Who might you be?” his gran asked. She was dressed for her appointment. After a lifetime of seeing her in business suits at the office, it was always a shock to Nick’s system to see his grey-haired grandmother in jeans and a plaid, flannel shirt.

Eve gave Adelaide’s hand a hearty shake. “Eve LeBlanc, tow-truck driver.”

“It’s lovely to meet you. Are you a special friend of Nick’s?”

Nick sighed. She was starting, and they’d been in the house for thirty seconds. “No, Gran, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“I just picked him up on the side of the road. I must say he is the cutest stray I’ve come across in a while,” Eve added with a smile.

“Don’t encourage her!”


Author Bio:

Elle Rush is a contemporary romance author from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. When she’s not travelling, she’s hard at work writing books which are set all over the world. From Hollywood to the house next door, her heroes will make you sigh and her heroines will make you laugh out loud.
Elle has a degree in Spanish and French, barely passed German, and has flunked poetry in every language she’s studied, including English. She also has mild addictions to tea, yarn, Christmas decorations, and HGTV renovations shows.

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Spotlight: The Christmas Layover by Robert Tate Miller

The weather forecasters said the snowstorm would miss the eastern seaboard. They were wrong. When Ally Henderson’s flight from Southern California to finally marry her fiancé in New York City on Christmas gets diverted to the tiny Midwestern town of Bethlehem, she’s desperate to get back in the air and to the Big Apple. But with all the airports closed, she’s forced to rely on Midwestern hospitality to wait out the storm.

Living with a welcoming stranger is one way to spend a snowed-in Christmas, but when she meets the local diner owner, the kindhearted and surprisingly sexy Jake, sparks fly. Only, Ally’s a big-city girl with big-city dreams, and Jake will always be a Bethlehem boy.

Excerpt

“Let me get this straight,” Ally said. “You sneak over here every December 22nd and build a snowman in the yard?”

“Pretty much,” Jake said. “Each year I have to wait a little longer because Maddie’s bedtime keeps getting later.”

“But what if there’s no snow?”

“Yeah, we did have that problem a couple of years ago. Luckily, I have a buddy who works at Echo Mountain Ski Resort. I drove two hours one-way to load up my pickup with manmade snow. Had more than I needed, so I spread the rest in the yard.”

Ally smiled. How sweet that he would go to all that trouble.

“Does Maddie know you’re the culprit?” Ally asked.

“She pretends she doesn’t,” Jake said. “Though I did catch her peeking out the window one night several years back. To be honest, I think she enjoys the fantasy more than the reality.”

“Don’t we all?” Ally said. “So,” she added, “let’s get started.”

Jake swung open the gate. “I like your attitude.”

He retrieved a canvas bag of supplies that he kept hidden beneath the porch steps, explaining that he stowed the bag at his sister’s so that he’d have the materials on hand year in and year out when he stole over in the night to do this snowman-building deed. As she worked side-by-side with Jake constructing the surprise snowman, Ally noticed that he seemed a bit chattier than usual. She liked it. He was getting more comfortable with her.

“So anyway,” Jake said, “when this all started, Maddie was into Bob the Builder. That’s why she named him Snowman Bob. One year, I put one of Mom’s wigs on him just to test that, and she still called him Snowman Bob.” Ally laughed as she packed some icy snow onto Bob’s mid- section. “Been doing it every year since she was four. And, tomorrow morning, she’ll wake up, remember what day it is, run outside and...here he’ll be.” Ally stepped back and took in their joint venture. They’d been at it for about a half hour, and she thought they’d done a pretty fair job.

“I bet this one’s the best yet,” she said.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “And it’s all because of you.” “Oh really?” Ally asked. “Are you patronizing me?”

“Maybe a little,” Jake said.

“Well, that won’t do.” Ally picked up a clump of snow and flung it at him. “That’s what you get.”

“Oh, it’s on now!” Jake said. He went to retaliate, quickly packing some frozen snow into a ball, while Ally worked furiously to beat him to the punch. Ally’s shrieking laughter echoed down the street, bouncing off the houses.

“You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood,” Jake teased.

“It’s your fault,” she said. She picked up another handful of snow and plopped it on his head, then let out another cackle of laughter that reverberated down the block.

“Nice,” Jake said. “Real nice. How would you like it down your back?” Jake grabbed a chunk of ice.

“Don’t you dare!” Ally said. She made a halfhearted attempt to avoid capture, but Jake grabbed her around the waist as Ally laughed so hard she could barely catch her breath. “Jake, you’d better not! Ahhh! That’s cold!” Jake managed to slip a chunk of ice down her collar, and Ally felt the freezing cold against her bare skin. As she squirmed trying to dislodge it, Ally realized that, for the moment, at least, her troubles were miles away. She felt girlish and euphoric. So, this is what fun feels like, she thought.

The snow battle lasted no more than a couple of minutes, but Ally felt like she’d had a real workout. If there had been ringside judges, she felt she would have held her own, gotten a split decision at the very least. Jake had just as much snow on him as she did.

The bout ended like some clichéd romantic comedy with the participants tumbling into the snow, Jake ending up on top of her, looking down into her face, which Ally could feel was pink with flush. Her head rested on the firm snow, and she could feel the cold on her exposed neck. They were both laughing and breathing hard, and then Ally realized they were all alone and face-to-face. She felt calm and happy as she looked up into his sea-blue eyes. He’s got specks of brown in his pupils, she thought. She also picked out a few light freckles high on his cheeks that she hadn’t seen before.

His eyes were locked on hers, searching. She could sense him wanting to kiss her, and she felt a sudden warmth rush through her. Ally recognized it instantly. Desire. She wanted that kiss, wanted his lips on hers. She wanted to reach up and grab him by the lapel and pull him down to her, but, instead, she waited. It was his move.

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About the Author

Robert Tate Miller was raised in the North Carolina mountain town of Hendersonville and began writing at an early age. He began his writing career with homespun essays of small town life that were published in such publications as Reader's Digest, The Christian Science Monitor and the Chicken Soup for the Soul book series. He moved to Los Angeles in the late 1980s and wrote hugely successful family-oriented telefilms for NBC, ABC Family and the Hallmark Channel. Robert lives in Northridge, CA..

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Spotlight: Fading to Black by V.H. Luis

Fading to Black
V.H. Luis
(Uninhibited #2)
Publication date: November 20th 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

We’re flawed. Both full of scars and tormented by the shadows of our past. But in each other’s arms we find solace, we find perfection.

Adam Black. Gorgeous, demanding, a sinful dream that once was my reality.

I was his… until I walked away.

For months I’ve managed to curb my Adam addiction. I’ve focused my energy on my painting career. I’ve found success. Still there is a dangerous urge within me I can’t resist, one that tempts me to be reckless. My life isn’t complete.

Something is missing… he’s missing.

I left him, but fate again has made us collide. And this time I won’t turn away—I won’t be the only one revealing the scars of my past.

I was his… am his… and this time he’ll be completely mine.

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Author Bio:

V.H. Luis is the author of the Black Series, an erotic romance trilogy that follows the love affair of Evelyn Snowe and Adam Black. Her debut book WAKING to Black, was released May 2, 2018, and the subsequent sequels FADING to Black, and SURRENDERING to Black, will follow shortly thereafter.

I’m a born and bred Miami Girl–and proud of it! I would wear shorts and flip-flops everyday of the week if I could. Growing up in Miami, surrounded by my parent’s heritage has made me proud of my Cuban ancestry. Cafecito and a guava pastry for breakfast? Yes, please! Salsa music while I tidy the house? Of course.

If I’m not busy scribbling notes about a story, I’m painting, listening to music, or spending time with the love of my life–my son. If I decide to travel, I bring the whole family (in-laws included), or at least I try to, because life is too short not to spend it with family; one of the many lessons my father taught me.

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Spotlight: Kyle's Journey (Morgan's Run Romances, #8) by M. Lee Prescott

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Kyle's Journey
Series: Morgan's Run Romances Book 8
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Mount Hope Press
Publication Date: November 20, 2018
Star-crossed lovers steam up the pages in Kyle’s Journey, Morgan’s Run # 8!
Once again Saguaro Valley works its magic when Harriet Winthrop agrees to a vacation with her mom Helen a friend of the Morgans and Spark Foster. After wrenching heartbreak, Harriet has sworn off men forever. Her first valley evening she meets “swoon-worthy” Kyle Morgan and jumps headlong into a white hot love affair. “Love em and leave em” Kyle is bowled over by his feelings for the shy, beautiful east coaster. Then shadows of Harriet’s traumatic past sweep over the lovers and their relationship is threatened -- by distance, dangers on the trail and bone shattering memories. Will love bring these two together or keep them apart?
Join the Morgans, Fosters and their growing families in this eighth book of the beloved series. Finally Kyle gets “his story” and maybe the woman of his dreams!

Purchase Links

Excerpt

Ben Morgan Senior stepped off the terrace to greet them, a petite beautiful blonde in white capris and cotton sweater of swirling blues and greens at his side. Behind them followed the only other person on the terrace, a drop dead handsome, dark-haired man who appeared to be about Harriet’s age. Ben Senior, then his wife, Leonora hugged Helen, then turned to Harriet with effusive welcomes.
Their companion hung back. His smile was enough to take Harriet’s breath away. She was still breathless when Leonora Morgan said, “And, Harriet this is our youngest boy, Kyle.”
“Hey, great to see you, Helen,” he said, hugging her mother, then turning to her. “And great to meet you, Harriet.” He held out his hand, which Harriet took.
His firm handshake sent ripples of electricity from her head to her toes. She managed to mumble, “Hello,” as they released each other’s hand.
“Are you alright, darlin’?” Leonora said. “Your face is red as a beet.”
Harriet shook her head. “Thank you, I’m fine. Must be the heat.”
As they were swept up onto the terrace, her mother gave her a quizzical look. When Harriet passed Kyle Morgan, she noticed he was grinning. Oh, Lord, what he must think of me! No man had ever had that kind of effect on her and she suspected he knew it. It didn’t matter though. Harriet had decided many years ago that no man would get close enough to hurt her the way she and her mother had been hurt. No one! Judson Winthrop, her father had been charming, handsome and kind at first and look how he turned out! Then there was Lyle. His treachery and betrayal still cut like a knife. How could I have been so naïve and stupid?
As they crossed the terrace to the bar, they were greeted by a taller, larger version of Kyle Morgan, the oldest Morgan sibling, Ben and his wife Maggie. Their children Emma and Ben the third were rolling around on the grass with the ranch dogs. “And, that would be my youngest sister, Ruthie, wife and mother, still like one of the kids,” Ben said, pointing to a beautiful redhead, in jeans and ranch tee shirt, her hair in a lopsided ponytail. She ducked just as her nephew jumped over her, squealing with laughter, an Australian shepherd on his heels. A tall, lanky cowboy stood at the edge of the melee, cradling a baby on his hip. “That’s my best buddy and now-brother-in-law, Harley Langdon,” Ben continued. “And baby Charlotte, my newest niece.”
Harriet smiled. Ben Morgan didn’t have to add that Charlotte and Harley belonged to Ruthie. The baby’s red curls and his adoring gaze told all.
“It’s all a bit overwhelming at first,” Maggie said. “But, you get used to it.”
“As if there’s another choice,” said a voice at their side. “Robbie Morgan,” he said, extending his hand. “You must be Helen’s daughter?”

Other Books by M. Lee Prescott

Check out the other books in the Morgan's Run Romances series.
Morgan’s Run begins with Emma’s Dream taking readers through to #8 Kyle’s Journey! At its heart, the series is about family. Against the backdrop of beautiful Saguaro Valley, Ben and Leonora Morgan and their children, grandchildren and friends continue to grow, live and fall in love with each new book.
Emma's Dream
EMMA'S DREAM
GET IT FREE!
Jeb's Promise
JEB'S PROMISE
Lang's Return
LANG'S RETURN

About M. Lee Prescott

M. Lee Prescott
M. Lee Prescott writes romances, mysteries, suspense and books for children and young adults. Among her titles are Prepped to Kill, Gadfly, Jigsaw, Lost in Spindle City and Poof! (Ricky Steele Mysteries), A Friend of Silence, In the Name of Silence, and The Silence of Memory (Roger and Bess Mysteries), Widow’s Island, Hestor’s Way, and Song of the Spirit. She is also the author of the popular Morgan’s Run romance series. These titles include Emma’s Dream, Lang’s Return, Jeb’s Promise, Rose’s Choice, Hope's Wonder, Ruthie’s Love, Polly’s Heart and now Kyle’s Journey!
Lee lives on a beautiful river. When not teaching (her other job) or writing, her passions revolve around family, yoga, swimming, walking, canoeing, and teaching mindfulness to people of all ages.
Her website is http://www.mleeprescott.com. Lee loves to hear from readers. Email her at mleeprescott@gmail.com, follow her on BookBub, or ask her anything on Goodreads!
Social media links: Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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Read an excerpt from Shacking Up by Helena Hunting

They say every cloud has a silver lining, but does that include missing your big acting break because of a bad cold? Maybe, if being actually sick turns into being lovesick. From New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting, SHACKING UP (St. Martin’s Paperbacks, November 27, 2018, $7.99), is a hilarious, swoon-worthy novel about sex and the city—and everything in between.

 Ruby Scott is months behind on rent and can’t seem to land a steady job. She has one chance to turn things around with an important audition. But instead of getting her big break, Ruby gets sick as a dog and ends up with her tail between her legs. All thanks to a mysterious, gorgeous guy who kissed her—and then coughed on her—at a party the night before.

Ruby’s BFF might have found her the perfect job opportunity: pet-sitting in the lavish penthouse apartment belonging to hotel magnate Bancroft Mills. But when the newly-evicted Ruby meets her jet-setting employer, she realizes he’s the same guy who got her sick. Seeing his role in Ruby’s dilemma, Bane offers her a permanent job as his live-in pet sitter until she can get back on her feet . . . and maybe back into his arms? 

Excerpt

CHAPTER 3

SCREW  YOU, AWESOME KISSER

RUBY

I eat an entire Listerine PocketPak on the subway ride home to kill any lingering germs in my mouth from Awesome Kisser. I’m annoyed by the whole thing, but at least he apologized and seemed sincere about the acci- dental tongue invasion. Too bad the hotness of the mem- ory is marred by raging Brittany and the hack in the face.

After getting home, I rinse with mouthwash, down six vitamin C capsules and some anti-flu holistic stuff, and then I go ahead and make myself my customary before- bed, pre-audition nighttime drink of hot honey-lemon water, and pray I’ve done a good enough job of ridding myself of cough germs.

I climb into bed, note my sheets lack a fresh scent, question when I last washed them, then I set my alarm and close my eyes. Behind my lids appears the hottie— whose name is apparently Banny, or maybe I misheard and it’s Danny. It’s not really a hot guy name. I’m going to stick with Awesome Kisser.

Now that I’m past the shock-and-awe factor I can fully appreciate that man’s hotness in the shouty caps sense of the word. It’s unfortunate he dates vapid, self-absorbed model-y types and not starving artists. I have a feeling “date” isn’t the appropriate word anyway. It’s also unfor- tunate that he has poor coughing manners.

I consider that he was likely a guest at the engagement party and he very well may be a guest at the wedding as well. If I’m still dateless by then he could make an ex- cellent potential dance partner, depending of course on how tight he is with Armstrong. If they’re close friends I don’t think it’s advisable to get involved in any semi- unclothed dancing outside of the wedding celebrations, no matter how hot he is. I don’t want to run the risk of encountering him again should things not go as well as one hopes.

Eventually I stop fantasizing about what’s under his suit and pass out.

I’m about to find out exactly what’s in Awesome Kiss- er’s designer pants when a repetitive, annoying sound dis- tracts me. I pause just before I smooth a hand over the amazingly prominent bulge while he tilts my head back, his soft lips brushing mine, his hot tongue sweeping . . .

The wisps of the dream fade and I crack a lid. The fantasy breaks with the obnoxious sunlight screaming its wake-up call, along with my stupid phone. Sometimes I’m slutty in my dreams.

I reach for the phone, remembering that Amie prom- ised me a morning call, just in case I messed up my alarm, which has happened in the past. I was on the ball last night, though. I set three alarms, all within five min- utes of each other so I wouldn’t have an opportunity to fall back asleep.

“Rise and shine, Ruby! I’m your wake-up call!” How she manages to sound so damn chipper at seven-thirty in the morning after her engagement party is beyond me.

A seal-like bark comes out when I attempt to grum- ble hello and tell her off for interrupting my dream.

“Ruby? Are you there?”

I make a second attempt at speaking but all I manage is another bark.

“Do you have a bad connection? I told you not to go with the cheap provider. You know how terrible the re- ception is.”

I clear my throat and immediately regret it, as it feels like knives are traveling up my esophagus.

“Ruby?” Amie asks again and then sighs. “I’m hang- ing up and trying again.”

Once the line goes dead I immediately hit the video call. Amie picks up right away. She’s wearing a white robe with her wavy hair pulled up into a ponytail, look- ing as fresh as baked bread out of the oven. I on the other hand, look like yesterday’s garbage based on the small image in the corner of my phone.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?”

I motion to my throat and shake my head. I give speak- ing another shot, just in case my inability to make more than random, audible sounds is a result of waking up. I usually don’t have to use words until after my morning coffee. All I get is another one of those squeaky moans and more sharp pain in my throat.

Amie sucks in a gasp and slaps her hand over her mouth. “You have no voice!”

I nod.

“How are you going to audition?”

The final dregs of sleep slip away. I mouth oh God. A mime is the only part I can audition for with no voice, or one of the dancer roles with no lines. They don’t make nearly as much money as central, or even secondary character, roles—which is what I’m hoping to score. The pay scale for that is far higher than for a lineless role. It definitely won’t cover the basics, like rent and food, let alone the minimum payments on my credit card. I’ve been banking on this audition to get me out of the hole I’ve dug for myself over the past few weeks.

The phone conversation is pointless since Amie can’t read lips and I can’t respond. She tells me she’s coming over. I try to tell her not to bother, but again, with the lack of words it’s impossible to convey. I wait until she hangs up and text her to tell her it’s not necessary. Besides, this thing I have is clearly contagious since I must’ve gotten it from Awesome Kisser, and I don’t want to pass it on to her. Damn Awesome Kisser—ruining the already ques- tionable state of my life.

I roll out of bed, the full-body ache hitting me with the movement. I must be dying. And I’m not just being dramatic. Every cell in my body hurts. I drag myself to the kitchen and fill the kettle. Maybe a lemon-honey hot water toddy will help restore my voice. Based on my re- cent unlucky streak, I have my doubts.

I shuffle to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and root around in the medicine cabinet for some decent drugs. All I have is regular-strength Tylenol, so it’ll have to do. I climb into the shower without checking the temperature first—it takes forever to heat up and then fluctuates be- tween lukewarm and scalding. I step under the spray during a scalding phase and huddle in the corner until it’s bearable.

I’d like to say the shower helps me feel better. It does not. The warm water also does little to help my voice. Although I’m past just squeaking to barely audible one- word phrases, such as “ow.” I’m praying to the voice- miracle gods that the honey-lemon combo will further improve my ability to speak.

Once out of the shower I doctor up my water, adding extra lemon and honey. Not only do I burn the crap out of my tongue, it feels like serrated blades coated in acid sliding down my throat. Still, I get dressed in basic black tights and a black tank with a loose, gauzy gray shirt over top. I dry my hair and put on makeup in hopes that ap- pearing put together will make it so. I have to double up on powder when the effort to prepare my face causes me to sweat.

I take a second hot lemon-honey toddy with me on the subway and arrive for my audition half an hour early. Not that my promptness matters. I’m still unable to speak above a whisper. My despair balloons like a marshmal- low in the microwave at the mass of people performing voice warm-up exercises around me.

I make an attempt to do the same, but the hoarse, croaklike sound is drowned out by the crystal clear voice of the perfectly gorgeous woman standing next to me. As I listen to the sound of a thousand soaring angels spew out of her mouth, I shiver with what I fear is the begin- ning of a fever. Sweat breaks out across the back of my neck and travels down my spine, along with a violent shiver. As if today could be any worse than it already is, my stomach does this weird, knotting thing.

“Ruby Scott.”

I glance at the director, who’s thankfully still looking fresh, and not beaten down by hundreds of craptastic au- ditions. Those are yet to come. I shoulder my bag and follow him to the theater.

“You’re auditioning for the role of Emma today, cor- rect?” He doesn’t give me a chance to confirm. “I’d like you to start with the song at the beginning of act two.”

“Okay,” I croak feebly, cringing at the raspy sound. At least I can speak, even if I sound like a prepubescent boy with his nuts caught in his zipper.

The director looks up from his clipboard, his frown an omen.

“I seem to have lost my voice.” He has to strain to hear me.

He heaves a frustrated sigh. “You can’t audition if you don’t have a voice.”

“I didn’t want to miss it. Maybe I could audition for a dancer part?” Fewer words are better.

He purses his lips. “Auditions for dancer roles aren’t until later in the week.”

“I understand, but I’m here and if you can’t hear me sing, at least you could see me dance?” I fight the gag reflex as another wave of nausea hits me.

He sighs and relents, gesturing to the stage. I thank him, then drop my bag at the edge of the stage and get into first position. My brain is foggy and my body aches horribly, but I can’t pass up this opportunity for a mod- est, yet steady income for a few months. I can’t afford to rack up additional credit card debt, and I don’t want to ask my father for more money, because that will make him aware of how much of a struggle this is. Then he’ll make his case for me to come work for him, as is his mas- ter plan. I know I can do this.

The music cues up, and as I start to move my stom- ach does that rolling-heave thing again. There isn’t any food in it, but all of a sudden the honey-lemon water I consumed this morning decides to stage a revolt. I’m in the middle of a spin—not the best idea when nauseous— and the next wave hits me; violent and unrelenting.

I attempt to keep my mouth closed, but the intensity of the spasm forces it open. I spray the stage with par-tially digested honey-lemon water, and what appears to be last night’s shrimp tarts and mushroom canapé appe- tizer dinner—in an Exorcist-like dramatic flair.

And thus ends my audition.

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About the Author

The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Pucked and I Flipping Love YouHelena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.