Spotlight: Vibes & Feels by Sarah Skye

(Unlikely Pairings, #2)
Publication date: February 22nd 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

THE SEQUEL TO SIPS & STROKES!

Falling for your enemy never felt so good.

Marco Woodruff has hit rock bottom. He drunkenly propositioned his ex-girlfriend at his own wedding rehearsal dinner just over a year ago and ended up dumped and jobless with a broken nose. He’s been the pariah of his social circle ever since. Now, he’s trying like hell to change for the better.

Morgan Paulsen loathes Marco. He’s nothing more than the douchebag who broke her best friend Lily’s heart. He’s also the last person in the world she expects to help when she finds herself in a crisis. Her ailing grandma needs a full-time caretaker, something she can’t afford. So when Marco offers to look after Gram for free, Morgan takes it as a sign from the universe and reluctantly accepts under one condition: that they never tell anyone about their arrangement.

But Morgan quickly realizes Marco has a completely different vibe these days. The sweet guy who whips up homemade meals for her Gram and happily escorts her to bridge club definitely isn’t the douchebag she remembers. She’s falling hard for the tall, dark, and handsome hottie who kisses like a demon and rocks out to BTS and Taylor Swift. Marco is equally smitten with beautiful, badass Morgan. Never in his life has he felt so content and comfortable than with her. Never did he think he was capable of feeling so much for somebody.

Soon they’re falling hard into total bliss and blazing passion. But if they make it official, Morgan will lose her best friend forever. Can she come clean to Lily? Can Marco prove that therapy and cutting out his toxic family have really changed him? Or will being open about their love ruin everything?

Excerpt

Morgan

I’m rummaging in my bag for the valet ticket and not watching where I’m going as I approach the podium, which is why I crash into a brick wall dressed in a white dress shirt and paisley tie. We bounce off each other with a collective “oomph.” 

The broad-chested guy reaches out to steady me. He cuts off my muttered apologies with, “No, my fault, I was—” 

Nothing else follows that statement. When I blink up at him, I find him looking at me with a kind of sick horror in his eyes. I don’t think my essential oil is so potent as to be offensive. Why is he looking at me like I’m his worst nightmare? Why am I getting dread vibes?

And why does he seem so familiar?

I know him… No, no way... He’s too scruffy and raw to be—

The maître d’ clears his throat. “Can I help either of you?”

“Yes, um, well. I need my car brought around, but, um, you go first, Morgan.”

My head whips back to the guy as my suspicions confirm themselves. “Marco.”

He cringes at the way I whisper-puke his name, but the sour taste in my mouth is too much to suppress. Marco Woodruff is standing beside me. My best friend’s dickweed ex-boyfriend. Hey, creep, how’s it going?

I hurry to slide the valet ticket onto the podium. “Um, it’s a red Mini Cooper,” I say as if he needs to know this, then spin on my heel and race out the door to the front curb. Heavy footfalls behind me tell me Marco, too, has come outside to wait.

We stand side by side in total silence. 

“Where did they park them, the North Pole?” I mutter when an eternity has passed. 

He breathes out a chuckle that I don’t want to hear. It’s commiseration, and we are not people who have anything to bond over. 

I pucker my lips as headlights blaze from our left. A Mercedes glides up. I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

The valet pops out, and Marco frowns. “She was first.”

The annoyance in his voice stops the valet, who was already jogging back toward the parking lot. “Sorry, boss, your car was blocking hers in.”

We trade a look. 

“Do you need me to wait with you?” 

His voice is thin. Clothing aside, he’s nothing like I remember him. The scruffy beard is definitely new. He isn’t cocky, either. If anything, I sense deep fatigue in him. It’s in his eyes. It’s in his slumped shoulders. It’s in his whole damn aura.

But the question has only one right answer. I jut my chin out and sneer. “If I ever need a chaperon, Marco, I’ll find one who’s at least a modicum of trustworthy, thanks so much.”

He flinches like I’ve delivered the blow he’s been waiting for since we ran into each other. Maybe I have. “I expected that answer. Goodnight.”

And with that, he drops into his car and is gone. 

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About the Author

Sarah Skye is the nom de plume of romance authors Sarah Smith and Skye McDonald. Sarah and Skye met on Twitter as fledgling authors seeking critique partners. That turned into a brilliant friendship, a joint podcast (Quick & Dirty Romance Podcast), and now a novel.

Sarah Smith (Faker; If You Never Come Back; Simmer Down) is a copywriter-turned-author who wants to make the world a lovelier place, one kissing story at a time. Her love of romance began when she was eight and she discovered her auntie's stash of romance novels. She's been hooked ever since. When she's not writing, you can find her hiking, eating chocolate, and perfecting her lumpia recipe. She lives in Bend, Oregon, with her husband and adorable cat Salem.

Skye McDonald (The Anti-Belle Series) is an author and personal development coach. Skye's Anti-Belle series feature sassy GRITS (Girls Raised In the South) learning to love themselves before they can claim their happily ever after. (Spoiler: they always do!) Her coaching method uses fitness and life skills to teach individuals to do the same. When not writing sexy books or cheering for you to live your best life, Skye can be found out on a new adventure, usually with her pup at her side.

Connect:
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https://www.instagram.com/quickndirtyromance/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21206854.Sarah_Skye

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Spotlight: Last Duke Standing by Julia London

Publication Date: February 22, 2022

Publisher: HQN Books

When Crown Princess Justine of Wesloria is sent to England to learn the ropes of royalty, she falls under the tutelage of none other than Queen Victoria herself. She’s also in the market for a proper husband—one fit to marry the future Queen of Wesloria.

Because he knows simply everyone, William, Lord Douglas (the notoriously rakish heir to the Duke of Hamilton seat in Scotland, and decidedly not husband material), is on hand as an escort of sorts. William has been recruited to keep an eye on the royal matchmaker for the Weslorian Prime Minister, tasked to ensure the princess is matched with a man of quality...and one who will be sympathetic to the prime minister’s views. As William and Justine are forced to scrutinize an endless parade of England’s best bachelors, they become friends. But when the crowd of potential grooms is steadily culled, what if William is the last bachelor standing?

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

1844

When Justine was fourteen, her father took her to the mountainous north country of Wesloria. He said he was to meet with coal barons because they were restless and in need of appeasing. Why? Justine had wondered.

“Because coal barons are always restless and in need of appeasing, darling,” he’d said, as if everyone knew that.

She’d imagined large, heavily cloaked men, faces covered in soot, pacing their hearths and muttering their grievances. But the coal barons were, in fact, like all well-dressed Weslorian gentlemen with clean faces.

They peered at her with expressions that ranged from disgust to indifference to curiosity.

“Don’t mind them,” her father had said. “They are not modern men.”

Justine and her father were housed at Astasia Castle. It was a fortress that jutted out forebodingly from a rocky outcropping so high on the mountain that the horses labored to pull the royal coach up the steep drive. It was purported to be the best of all the accommodations in the area, afforded to Justine and her father by virtue of the fact Justine’s father was the king of Wesloria, and she was the crown princess, the invested heir to the throne.

Justine said the castle looked scary. Her father explained that castles were built in this manner so that armies and marauders could be seen advancing from miles away, and runaway brides could be seen fleeing for miles.

“Runaway brides?” Justine had been enthralled by the idea of something so romantic gone so horribly awry.

“Petr the Mad watched his bride run away with his best knight, and then watched his men chase them for miles before they got away. He was so angry he burned down half the village.” Her father did not elaborate further, as the gates had opened, and the castellan had come rushing forward, eager to show the king and his heir the old royal castle he proudly kept.

Sir Corin wore a dusty blue waistcoat that hung to his thighs, the last four buttons undone to allow for his paunch. His hair, scraggly and gray, had been pulled into an old-fashioned queue at his nape. He kept a ring of keys attached to his waist that clanked with each step he took.

He was a student of history, he’d said, and could answer any question they might have about Astasia Castle, and proceeded to exhibit his detailed knowledge of the dank, drafty place with narrow halls and low ceilings. A young Russian prince had died in this room. An ancient queen had lost her life giving birth to her tenth child in that room.

Sir Corin showed them to the throne room. “More than one monarch’s held court here.”

Justine was accustomed to the opulence of the palace in Wesloria’s capital of St. Edys. This looked more like a common room of a public house—it was small and dark, the king and queen’s thrones wooden, and the tapestries faded by time and smoke.

Another room, Sir Corin pointed out, was where King Maksim had accepted the surrender of the feudal King Igor, thereby uniting all Weslorians under one rule after generations of strife.

“My namesake,” her father said proudly, forgetting, perhaps, that King Maksim had slaughtered King Igor’s forces to unite them all.

They came upon a small inner courtyard. Stone walls rose up on three sides of it, but the outer wall was a battlement. Sir Corin pointed to a door at one end of the battlement that led into a keep with narrow windows. “We use it for storage now, but they kept the prisoners there in the old days. Worse than any dungeon your young eyes have ever seen, Your Royal Highness.”

Justine had never seen a dungeon.

“Is this not where Lord Rabat was beheaded?” her father asked casually. To Justine, he said, “That would have been your great-great-uncle Rabat.”

“Je, Your Majesty, the block is still here.” Sir Corin pointed to a large wooden block that stood alone, about two feet high and two feet wide. It looked to have been weathered by years of sitting in hard sun and wretched winters.

“Oh, how terrible,” Justine said, crinkling her nose.

“Quite,” her father agreed, and explained, with far too much enthusiasm, how a person was made to kneel before the block and lay their neck upon it. “A good executioner could make clean work of it with a single stroke. Whap, and the head would tumble into a basket.”

“If I may, Your Majesty, a good executioner was hard to come by. More miners in these parts than men good with broadswords. Fact is, it took three strikes of the sword to sever Rabat’s head completely.” Sir Corin felt it necessary to demonstrate the three strikes with his arm.

“Ah…” Justine swallowed down a swell of nausea.

“Three whacks?” her father repeated, rapt. “Couldn’t get it done in one?”

Sir Corin shook his head. “Just goes to prove how important it is to keep the broadsword sharp.”

“And to keep someone close who knows how to wield it,” her father added. The two men laughed roundly.

Justine looked around for someplace to sit so that she could put her head between her legs and gulp some air. Alas, the only place to sit was the block.

“Steady there, my girl. I’ve not told you who ordered the beheading,” her father said.

Sir Corin clasped his hands together in anticipation, clearly trying to contain his glee.

“Your great-great-aunt Queen Elena!”

Queen Elena had beheaded Lord Rabat? “Her husband?”

“Worse. Her brother.”

Justine gasped. “But why?”

“Because Rabat meant to behead her first. Whoever survived the battle here would be crowned the sovereign.”

“Ooh, a bloody battle it was, too,” Sir Corin said eagerly. “Four thousand souls lost, many of them falling right off the battlement.”

Justine backed up a step. A quake was beginning somewhere deep inside her, making her a little short of breath. Her knees felt as if they might buckle, and her skin crawled with anxiety, imagining the loss of so many. “Could she not have banished him?”

“And have him slither back like a snake?” Her father draped his arm around her shoulders before she could back up all the way to St. Edys. “She did the right thing. Why, minutes before, she was on the block herself.”

“Dear God,” Justine whispered.

“But at the last minute the people here saved her,” her father said. “She sentenced her brother to die immediately for his insurrection and stood right where we are now to watch his traitorous head roll.”

“Well,” Sir Corin said. “I wouldn’t say it rolled, precisely.”

The two men laughed again.

“Don’t close your eyes, darling,” her father said, squeezing her into his side. “Look at that block. Elena was only seventeen years old, but she was very clever. She knew what she had to do to hold power and rule the kingdom. And she ruled a very long time.”

“Forty-three years, all told,” Sir Corin said proudly.

“Queen Elena learned what every sovereign must—be decisive and act quickly. Do you understand?”

“I don’t…think so?” Justine was starting to feel a bit like she was spinning.

“You will.” Her father dropped his arm. He wandered over to the block to inspect it. “We almost named you Elena after her. But they called her Elena the Bi—Witch,” he said. “And your mother feared they might call you the same.”

“You said she was a good queen.”

“She was an excellent queen. But sometimes it is difficult to do the things that must be done and keep the admiration of your people at the same time.”

The spinning was getting worse. She gripped her father’s arm. “Why?”

“Because people expect a woman to behave like a woman. But a good queen must sometimes behave more like a king for the good of the kingdom. People don’t care for it.” He shrugged. “No king or queen can make all their subjects happy all the time.” He suddenly smiled. “You look a bit like Queen Elena.”

“The very image,” Sir Corin piped up.

Later that day Justine saw a portrait of Queen Elena. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t appear completely unpleasant. She simply looked…determined. And her dress was elegantly pretty, with lots of pearls sewn into it.

Later still, when her father and his men had retired to smoke cigars and talk about coal or some such, Justine returned to the courtyard alone. No one was there, no sentry looking out for marauders or runaway brides. She looked up at the tops of pines bending in a relentless wind, appearing to scrape a dull gray sky. She walked up the steps to the battlement and gazed out over the mountain valley below the castle. She spread her arms wide, closed her eyes and turned her face to the heavens.

That was the first time she truly felt it—the pull from somewhere deep, the energy of all the kings and queens who had come before her, rising up to the crown of her head, anchoring her to this earth. She felt the centuries of warfare and struggle, of the people her family had ruled. She felt the enormous responsibilities they’d all carried, the work they’d done to carve a road to the future.

Her father had often said that he could feel the weight of his crown on his shoulders. But Justine felt something entirely different. She didn’t feel as if it was weighing her down, but more like it was lifting her off her feet and holding her here. She didn’t believe this was a conceit on her part, but a tether to her past. She would be a queen. She knew that she would, and standing there, she felt like she should be. She felt born to it.

A gust of wind very nearly sent her flying, so she came down from the battlement. She paused just before the block and tried to imagine herself on her knees, knowing her death was imminent. She imagined how she would look.

She hoped she would appear strong and noble with no hint of her fear of the pain or the unknown.

Being queen was her destiny. She knew it would come.

But she hadn’t known then it would come so soon.

Excerpted from The Last Duke Standing by Julia London. Copyright © 2022 by Dinah Dinwiddie. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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About the Author

Julia London is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over fifty novels of historical and contemporary romance. She is the author of the popular Highland Grooms series as well as A Royal Wedding, her most recent series. Julia is the recipient of the RT Bookclub Award for Best Historical Romance and a six-time finalist for the prestigious RITA award for excellence in romantic fiction. She lives in Austin, Texas. Visit her at www.julialondon.com.

Connect:

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Twitter: @JuliaFLondon

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Goodreads

Spotlight: Too Far by Lauren Fraser

Publication date: February 12th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Something needs to change if their marriage is going to work. But how far is too far?

To the outside world, Lia Dahl has it all. Her business is thriving. She has a gorgeous husband and great friends.

Jaxon Dahl is everything Lia had ever dreamed of. Successful, handsome, committed. Marriage should have been the answer to the life she’d always imagined. But three years in and unfortunately, it’s not all smooth sailing. Somewhere along the way, she got lost.

How has she allowed herself to become invisible in their relationship when she is so confident everywhere else? Well, no more.  

It’s time for drastic action to get this marriage back on track. This will either be the jumpstart they need or the final nail in the coffin.

Excerpt

Where the hell was he? Lia Dahl pushed her empty glass of wine away and glanced at the clock again for the umpteenth time. 9 o’clock. Jaxon should have been home by six at the latest. Clearly, celebrating their third anniversary wasn’t a huge priority for him. Her gaze lingered on the ruined dinner she had carefully prepared. Good thing she’d taken the afternoon off. What a waste.

Lia pushed away from the table, catching a glimpse of herself in the dining room mirror as she walked past. She felt ridiculous standing there in the caged corset teddy she had bought especially for the night. When she’d seen it in Fredricks, she’d thought for sure it was the perfect thing to help get their relationship back on track. 

Ever since Jaxon’s boss had dangled the possibility of a partnership in front of his nose, he’d been virtually non-existent at home. Tears welled up in her eyes. He’d promised he would be home early tonight. 

Well, she was sick of it. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lia grabbed her purse from the hall table and dug out her eyeliner. With a couple of swipes, her makeup was repaired. She gave herself another once over in the mirror. If Jaxon didn’t swallow his tongue, then there really was no hope for them. Grabbing her trench coat from the closet, she slid it on over her teddy and slipped her feet into a fierce pair of heels that would knock Jaxon on his ass when he saw them. She’d be damned if she’d sit here at home alone on their anniversary. The man needed a wake-up call, and he was damn sure going to get it.

Lia pulled her car up to Lincoln Towers. A few offices still remained lit. She scanned the rows of windows, tenth floor, fourth over from the right. Of course, her husband’s office was still one of the ones lit. She took a deep breath and got out of her car. The fabric of her coat rubbed against the peek-a-boo teddy and her nipples stood at attention. Shit, she really hoped this wasn’t a bad idea.

Walking towards the office building, a blast of cool air fired up the back of her coat. Damn it. Jaxon better bloody appreciate what she was willing to do for their relationship. At the front door of the building, she waited patiently for the security guard to let her in. She fought the urge to adjust her coat to ensure she was well covered.

“Evening, Mrs. Dahl. What brings you by this late?” the security guard asked. His curious gaze roamed over her.

She smiled. “Hi Charlie, I’ve come to drag my husband home. The man works far too much.”

“That’s for sure,” Charlie replied. He tipped his head towards the elevator. “You head on up. The man would have to be crazy not to want to rush home with you.” 

She patted the old man on the cheek. “You are a sweetheart, Charlie.”

The foyer of Tanner, Kaufman and Company was unlit. From the dark hallway, light spilled out of a lone office. She shook her head. Jaxon was the only one still here.

Squaring her shoulders, she sauntered down the hallway. At the open doorway to Jaxon’s office, she stopped. His blond hair stood up in several directions, his tie tossed haphazardly on the chair, the neck of his shirt undone. He looked exhausted. Engrossed in what he was working on he didn’t even register that she was there.

With a quick glance down the hall to ensure they really were alone, Lia stepped into the office, closed the door behind her, and flicked the lock.

“Lia? What are you doing here?” Jaxon asked. His brow furrowed in confusion.

 “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Fuck, our anniversary,” he groaned. “Jesus, Li. I’m sorry, I completely forgot.”

Like a knife stabbing her in the stomach, his comment cut deeply. She’d bribed her employees to take her afternoon classes for her so she could sneak out early to make today special and he’d completely forgotten. What did that say about their relationship?

Drastic times called for drastic measures. There was no way she was going to let their relationship become an after-thought. She licked her lips and moved her hands to the opening of her jacket. “That’s why I came to you.” She eased the coat off her shoulders, slowly exposing the peek-a-boo top of her teddy. Jaxon’s eyes widened. “Lia?” he croaked.

“Hmm?” She lowered the jacket completely and dropped it on the floor. “Oops,” she said. Well, here goes nothing.

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About the Author

Lauren has always been a dreamer, weaving stories to keep herself entertained. Through her stories she can travel anywhere in the world and money is not an object. Now, who wouldn't want that? Unfortunately, the demands of the real world pushed her dreams to the side for a while.

After talking to her children about going after what they wanted and not letting fear stand in their way, she realized she needed to lead by example and chase her own dreams. She enjoys going hiking, camping and paddleboarding with her husband and two daughters.

Connect:

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Spotlight: Just A Taste by Scarlett Se Leva

(Determined, #1)
Publication date: February 17th 2022
Genres: YA, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

A FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE.

Six years ago, I pushed her away, too afraid of the feeling she evoked.

Now here she sits in my kitchen, reawakening my desires.
I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life.

This time I won’t run.
I won’t stop.
Until she’s mine.

Excerpt

Slipping off the bed, I reach my hand out. “I can take it.” I remove the plate from her dainty hand. 

She pivots, moving away from me, but I’m not ready for her to go. My mind rakes for ways for her to stay longer. It’s been a long time since we’ve said more than a few hellos to each other. 

“Where are you rushing off to?”

She turns. “Just to help Mom. Did you need anything else?” she asks. Her feet fidget. I see that nervous tendency hasn’t changed. 

“Quick question… What grade are you in again?” I know the answer. My obsession with Simone had me keep track of the details I overheard her mom tell my dad. I’d hide in the corner listening to them talk, trying to glean any morsel of information I could about her. Every brief whisper of her name, each tale of accomplishment… I lapped it up.

“I’m a junior. Why?”

An idea takes root. 

“Just needed help with my calculus class.” I sprinkle a dash of lie. The class has been kicking my ass. I overheard your mom bragging to Dad about you taking advanced calculus. I’m a straight-A student, but it will provide an opportunity for us to spend more time together, and in doing so, rekindle our friendship.

It’s a means to an end. 

Her cheeks ripen like a red apple.

“Actually, numbers are the one thing I feel I comprehend.” 

“Great, let me get my book. I can’t afford to fail this class.” Smiling to myself, I turn to my book bag laying on my desk across the room. Then I drift to the love seat in the corner. “Are you going to tutor me from over there, or are you going to sit?” I smirk.

She rolls her eyes at my comment.

 “Come.” I pat the empty spot next to me. 

She blinks and clears her throat. “I didn’t agree to tutor you. You asked a simple question. How did my answer get construed into me tutoring you?” Her face is void of any humor, and she eyes me with a slow burn from top to bottom.

There she is. My cannonball. She never liked me telling her what to do. I see that hasn’t changed.  

Too cute.

I lean my head to the side, my brows knitting, squinting at her. I always got a kick out of her reactions. I poked, poked, and poked until she blew. 

Her brows pinch together. 

She’s always been a worthy opponent, and so fucking

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About the Author

Scarlett Se Leva writes unexpected, steamy, suspenseful romance.

When Scar isn’t busy penning her next book, you can find her with her family watching movies, drinking wine, curled up in a corner with a book or running after her three daughters.

Connect:

https://scarlettselevabooks.com/

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21005712.Scarlett_Se_Leva

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Spotlight: Wilder With You by Serena Bell

(Wilder Adventures, #3)
Publication date: February 15th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Who knew pretending could be so hot?

It started as a joke. After all, I’d never pretend to date a woman just to get my mom and sister off my back.

I would, however, pretend to date her to get her ex-husband off hers.

Now the two of us, the wilderness warrior and the wedding planner, are stuck sharing a very small tent. I had no idea how fast things would heat up in here, or how hard it would be to keep my hands—among other things—to myself.

I also didn’t guess how quickly the news of our “relationship” would spread to my big, nosy family.

We can’t “break up” yet, because she’s planning my brother’s wedding and I’m his best man. Through venue visits, DIY disasters, and Vegas trips, we’re thrown together, and the chemistry’s off-the-charts. But the kicker is, I feel like she gets me.

Maybe that’s what scares me the most. I’m still reeling from the loss of my wife, and she’s still hurting from her ex’s betrayal. There’s no way this can ever be real.

But what if I’m starting to hope it is?

Excerpt

I can feel my sister Amanda’s breath on my neck as she leans in. “There are a lot of single women on this trip.” She says it casually, like she’s commenting on the weather. Which, given the number of times I’ve heard this refrain, or one like it, she could be. 

“Glamping appeals to women.”

“Are you sure it’s not those photos of you Lucy plastered all over your marketing materials? And how did she get you to take that shirtless one?” 

“She snuck up on me,” I growl. “She blindsided me.” 

Amanda snickers. “I figured.” She hmms. “I think they’re here for the eye candy.” 

“No one goes on a three-day camping trip for the eye candy.” 

“Sure they do,” Amanda says. “I mean, not everyone, but there’s gotta be, statistically, say, five percent of every trip that’s in it for the chance that you’ll share your tent.”

“Can it, Mandy-pants,” I say, invoking the most forbidden of all nicknames, the one coined by her nemesis in eighth grade. 

I don’t even really feel guilty about it.   

And Amanda, of course, is unfazed. You don’t grow up the second youngest of six kids, and the only girl, without developing an extremely thick skin. “I’m just saying, Clark. If you were a little more friendly—”

“Who says I’m not friendly?” I growl.

“Grunting in a woman’s general direction doesn’t count as being friendly.” 

“I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.” 

“That you’re human?”

So I grunt in Amanda’s general direction because anything else I say might encourage her.

For the thousandth time, I think about how, a while back, I told my brother Brody that if my sister and mom didn’t lay off on the matchmaking and attempts to get me “back in the saddle,” I was going to hire a fake girlfriend. 

It wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had. 

Not that I’d ever do something like that. I don’t lie, omit, or cheat, and that would be a falsehood on an epic scale.

And almost as much as actually being involved with another woman, it would feel like a betrayal of Emma, my late wife. 

Amanda clears her throat, tilts her head, and eyes me in the mirror. “Jessa Olsen is pretty.” 

God damn it. Sometimes I think my sister can read my mind. And not in a good way. 

Jessa Olsen is pretty.  

Earlier today, I lost an internal battle and let myself take the hungry second look at Jessa I wanted. I let my eyes linger on her wavy medium-brown hair, her lush mouth—with its little bow to the upper lip. I paused there for a long moment, contemplating that mouth, then had to move on so we wouldn’t end up with one too many tents on this trip. But that didn’t really help, because the rest of Jessa is just as beautiful. She has clear skin, brown eyes, and just a few freckles scattered on her slightly upturned nose. A tall, slim, strong body.

Small, perfect tits! my utterly predictable dick chimes in.  

“She’s married,” I tell Amanda.

“She’s divorced.”

“What?” Damn. It popped out before I could stop myself. Showing curiosity about a woman around Amanda is dangerous. 

And sure enough, one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows flirts with her hairline. “Her husband cheated on her.” She frowns. “It was big Rush Creek gossip for a while.” 

I hold up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

She tilts her head. “You sure?” 

“Positive.”

Amanda’s breath brushes my neck again. “Suffice it to say, it wasn’t pretty.”

I ride a wave of sympathy for Jessa—there’s nothing worse than public humiliation, especially when it’s unearned. 

I’m lying, by the way: I want to know. I want to know the whole goddamned story.  

But I’ll never hear it from Jessa’s mouth, because I’m never going to sit down with one of Emma’s friends and have a heart-to-heart. Too fucking weird. If—and I do mean if—I ever date again, it’s not going to be someone Emma was friends with.

Amanda takes a deep breath. “Clark,” she says, super gently. “We worry about you.” 

“Well, quit that shit.” 

“You’re 33. You can’t just be celibate for the rest of your life.”

“Who says I’m celibate? For all you know, I’m getting it on nightly.” 

I’m not, for anyone who’s keeping track. There have been a few one-nighters over the past two years, all billed ahead of time as one-and-done. Everyone got what they signed up for, and if the experience left me numb, no one knew except me. 

That’s how it’s going to be from now on, because I can’t do it again. Love like that. Lose like that. And know that if I’d done things differently, she might still be here.

Amanda catches my eye in the mirror, and I see the moment where she realizes I’m, for real, struggling. 

She bites her lip. “I’ll shut up now.”

“Excellent choice.” 

But I say it without heat. Because she’s my sister, because if I know anything in life it’s that she and my brothers and my mom love the shit out of me, and because, well… 

Because I’m a fucking hypocrite. 

Because ever since I allowed myself that second look at Jessa Olsen, I’ve been wishing for another one.

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About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Serena Bell writes contemporary romance with heat, heart, and humor. A former journalist, Serena has always believed that everyone has an amazing story to tell if you listen carefully, and you can often find her scribbling in her tiny garret office, mainlining chocolate and bringing to life the tales in her head.

Serena’s books have earned many honors, including an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, Apple Books Best Book of the Month, and Amazon Best Book of the Year for Romance.

When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also of how often she changes her hobbies and how passionately she embraces the new ones. These days, it’s stand-up paddle boarding, board-gaming, meditation, and long walks with good friends.

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Spotlight: The Player Hater by Sara Ney

Release Date: February 15

I would do anything for my best friend.

Well. Almost anything.

When she begs me to come on a weekend getaway so I can bond with her new boyfriend, I can’t say no—no matter how badly I want to. After all, who will keep an eye on the guy; he’s your stereotypical, professional football player (emphasis on PLAYER) and I don’t trust him with my friends heart.

Worse? He has the nerve to bring his single best friend Davis on the trip, too. Davis is too handsome, so funny and smart he can’t possibly be human. Grandma’s, babies and kittens all fall for his smile.

In fact, everyone adores but me **narrows eyes** What’s he hiding?

I refuse to fall for his act; at some point he’ll will drop the Good Guy act and show his true colors: he’s a player, too. He must be.

You know the saying: if he seems too good to be true, he probably is.

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Meet Sara Ney:

Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte's, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives in the Midwest, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British. 

For a list of cities/venues Sara will be signing at, or to purchase signed books, please visit her website at www.authorsaraney.com

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