Spotlight: Savvy Sheldon Feels Good as by Hell Taj McCoy

A debut rom-com about a plus-size heroine who gets a full-life makeover after a brutal breakup, with the help of an irresistible cast of friends and family, a kitchen reno, and a devastatingly handsome contractor.

Savvy Sheldon spends a lot of time tiptoeing around various aspects of her life: her high-stress and low-thanks job, her clueless boyfriend, and the falling-apart kitchen she inherited from her beloved grandma who taught her how to cook and how to love people by feeding them. When Savvy’s complacency (and her sexy new lingerie) reaches a breaking point, she knows it’s time for some renovations.

Starting from the outside in, Savvy tackles her crumbling kitchen, her waistline, her work/life balance (or lack thereof,) and last (but not least): her love life. The only thing that doesn’t seem to require effort is her ride-or-die squad of close female friends. But as any HGTV junkie can tell you, something always falls apart during renovations. First, Savvy passes out during hot yoga. Then, it turns out that the contractor she hires is the same sexy stranger she unintentionally offended by judging based on appearances. Worst of all, Savvy can’t seem to go anywhere without tripping over her ex and his latest ‘upgrade.’ Savvy begins to realize that maybe she should’ve started her renovations the other way around, beginning with how she sees herself (and loves herself,) before she can build a love that lasts.

Excerpt

“Shit!” Savvy whispered. A bubble of bacon grease popped on her arm, and she jumped back. Rubbing away the grease, she turned down the white knob on her gas stove to calm the crackling bacon, flipping thick slices of applewood-smoked goodness with a pair of tongs. Crisper this time.

Other than her occasional muttered curses, the only sounds in the house came from the sizzling on the stove and the deep hum of a cranky old refrigerator. The kind of hum that keeps you guessing whether it actually still functions. Tugging on the door, she ducked her head in to pull out baby portobello mushrooms, fresh spinach, and a red bell pepper from the crisper. She grabbed Gruyère cheese, a carton of eggs, and a pint of fresh strawberries, closing the door slowly to avoid its signature creak.

Savvy skillfully ran her chef’s knife through mushrooms, peppers, and onion more slowly than usual. She took great care not to wake the man sleeping down the hall. She eyed the black silk camisole and lacy short set hanging nearby, and a shiver of excitement ran down her spine. She looked down 

at Jason’s old basketball shirt, a relic from some college intramural tournament that he and his boys played in. Not exactly a seductive look. Whoever those guys were that enjoyed women with their hair tied back and no makeup on, Jason was not one of them.

She separated egg yolks from whites and tossed the veggies into a heated omelet pan, adding handfuls of fresh spinach as they softened, then the beaten egg whites a moment later. Using a handheld cheese grater, curls of Gruyère sprinkled onto the omelet, slowly expanding and flattening into a melty pool.

Savvy had moved into her childhood home eight months ago, right after Mama moved to San Jose with her new husband, leaving it empty. Very little had changed in the house since her childhood. Carpets still covered pristine hardwood floors, and plastic runners lined the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Dingy from years of wear and tear, the edges of the runners were yellowed with age. Mama’s house, with its floral decor, took clutter to hoarding levels—she never threw anything away.

The faded yellow paint on the walls, dry and peeling, reminded Savvy of the lists of contractors Mama had given her, tucked between the milk crate and the French press. She intended to renovate the house to make it feel more like her own, but work was too busy to take on a project. The tea kettle hissed hot steam, and she snatched it from the stove before whistling interrupted the morning quiet. Boiling water cascaded over finely ground Kona coffee, the aroma carrying just enough caffeine to raise her energy level.

After peeking over her shoulder, Savvy reached into the oven and grabbed a slice of chewy bacon from the tray. If it’s eaten straight from the pan, it has no calories. These are the Bacon Rules.

Sliced strawberries and cubed mangoes with a chiffonade of fresh mint joined the omelet and crispy bacon, making for a colorful, drool-worthy presentation. Savvy ran a paper towel around the rim of the plate before capturing the aesthetic for her IG Story.

She kicked off her slippers and lifted the enormous T-shirt over her head before realizing with a flash of embarrassment that the kitchen curtains were wide open. She rushed to shut them, stubbing her toe on a loose piece of tile and yelling silently into the morning. Once she regained her composure, she slipped the camisole over her head, sucking in her breath and running her fingers over the slightly taut, black fabric. Don’t overthink it, Savvy. With her silky cream kimono robe with pale pink peonies framing her sexy new pj’s and Jason’s meal on an enameled wooden tray, she shook out her hair one last time and headed down the hall.

“Good morning, Baby I have breakfast for you,” Savvy cooed softly as she reached the doorway.

Jason opened his eyes slowly, rolling toward her onto his side as he yawned. “How long you been up, Savs?” His beard was flattened on his left side from being pressed into the pillow. He smoothed a hand over the crown of his head, flattening the top of his fade, then grabbed his phone before turning to look at her. Jason took in her attempt at seduction, his deep voice thick from sleep. “What you got on?”

Dammit. “Just something new. I thought you’d like it. I was up for maybe an hour?” she lied. More like two. “Couldn’t get back to sleep, so I thought I’d surprise you.” Setting the tray on the nightstand, she stole a quick kiss.

“I taste bacon on your lips.” He dug into his plate, shoving bacon and mango into his mouth at the same time. His hooded eyes chastised her before returning back to his meal.

How does he even taste his own food eating that fast? She sat down next to him with a bowl of fresh fruit, resting her pedicured toes on the edge of the bed frame. “What do you have going on today?” 

“Need to stop by my momma’s after she gets out of church, go home and walk Ginger, and then play a couple of pickup games with the fellas. What’s on your plate today? You cookin’ tonight?” He crunched through his bacon with enthusiasm, moving half of his omelet onto a piece of toast.

“I need to check on my uncle before I go shopping for some work clothes. You could come over for dinner later.”

He grunted, looking up from his omelet on toast, cheeks threatening to burst. “What you cookin’?” he repeated.

She rolled her eyes as she fixed her mouth to give him options, but her phone pinged.

Jason hit her with a side-eye, shaking his head. His mouth bursting with food. “Is that who I think it is?” His voice peaked, like a kid three seconds away from a tantrum.

Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, Savvy eyed him carefully. “Yes, Babe, it is.” Her voice calm, she scrutinized the request from her boss. He needed data about insured millennials to present to a new insurance client, and she’d forgotten to incorporate that into her presentation slides.

“He’s interrupting quality time, Savvy.” Jason stood, bare chested in basketball shorts, his deep voice booming with displeasure. Athletic, but not overly muscular, he ran his fingers over his flat stomach, stretching his long limbs, as she pounded away on her phone’s keyboard with her thumbs. “Why am I just waking up on Sunday morning, and you’re already working?”

Shit. “Just one sec, Jay, I promise.” Biting her lip, she ran through report data in her head to pinpoint the figures her boss wanted. She’d always had a good memory for numbers. She typed her response as quickly as her thumbs allowed, noting that she would be in the office for a few hours in the afternoon if he had any additional questions. Jason didn’t need to know that last part. “There, see? Done.” Savvy smiled up at him, willing him to sit next to her. 

He did. “I don’t know anyone else who is okay with their boss interrupting their weekend. He can’t just wait till tomorrow?”

“Well, I’m not working now…” Nuzzling his shoulder, she traced her fingertips down his back. “You know, Babe, I was hoping that we could…you know.” The kimono robe slipped suggestively, exposing her shoulders.

Jason avoided eye contact as he handed Savvy his empty tray. “You ain’t got time for all that, Boss Lady.” Tsking, he shook his head, making his way to the bathroom. The sound of a shower curtain being shoved aside and water raining from the showerhead followed. As steam spread across the bathroom mirror, he called out to her. “You should probably see if you can take them clothes back. Fit’s too tight.”

Savvy set the tray down on the bed next to her, then stood, wrapping the kimono tightly around her middle. Shoulders rounded, she returned to the kitchen with Jason’s empty plate, helping herself to another slice of perfect, chewy bacon. So much for quality time.

Jason left as Savvy showered, calling out to her that he’d come back for dinner. After getting ready, she pulled containers of last night’s leftovers out of the fridge and shoved them into a heavy cloth grocery bag. Baked chicken breasts with sautéed mushrooms covered in a marsala wine sauce. Parmesan and asparagus risotto. Mixed greens with grape tomatoes and a mason jar of fresh lemon and shallot vinaigrette. After grabbing her purse and a sealed envelope from her desk, she walked out into the sunshine. The sky swirled a perfect blue, a breeze ruffled through the treetops kissing wind chimes on her neighbor’s porch. A good-looking Black man in dusty jeans, a torn T-shirt, and work boots walked by with a beautiful chocolate Lab. He raised a hand in greeting as they strolled by, and she nodded in response.

Her surroundings changed from lush greenery to concrete skyscrapers and industrial buildings, as she navigated south on the 5 freeway, past Downtown LA. Spotting USC on her right, she threw a strong side-eye at the home of the Trojans. Bruin blood for life, baby.

Big brick buildings blurred into dilapidated warehouses and older residential neighborhoods. Exiting at Century Boulevard, she steered toward Uncle’s house, which he’d inherited from Savvy’s grandparents, since Granny and PopPop had already bought the Los Feliz house for Savvy, her mom, and her brothers. Mama complained that Uncle’s place was an old money pit, always needing repairs, but Unc and Savvy loved that house.

Pulling up in the driveway, she took in the dip in the roof that Uncle described on the phone. He’d sunk the last of his savings into the front porch when the steps needed replacing. The upkeep crept up faster now, but there was no letting go of Granny and PopPop’s most prized possession.

Whenever she needed money in college, Savvy’d called her uncle to avoid stressing Mama, who worked hard to put three kids through school. Unc helped whenever he could, treating her like the daughter he never had. Now, with the stability she found at work, Savvy reciprocated as often as she could, while still building a renovation fund for her own house.

Walking up the steps, Savvy looked through the screen door into the sitting room. “Unc! Where you at?”

“Now, why do you always have to holler like you ain’t got no home training?” Uncle’s husky voice rang with amusement. He leaned hard against a crutch, swinging open the screen door for her to walk through.

Savvy grinned at him, planting a big kiss on his cheek as she walked past. “Any home training I received was undone by a certain someone.” In her childhood, Unc had been her hero; he helped to raise her and her brothers when their dad took off. Ma’s older brother, Uncle Joe always came by to check on them. When money ran short, he stepped in and made sure they were never without.

“Mmm-hmm.” His smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What you up to today, Baby Girl?”

Inside, her uncle’s security uniform hung on the back of a chair in a plastic cover from the dry cleaner. A retired police officer, he’d taken on part-time work as a night watchman for an office building in Inglewood. On his limited retirement pay and meager income handling security, making ends meet had been a challenge, especially after he got injured on the job. At the time, Savvy had shaken her head at his explanation. “They vandalized the side of the building—of course I chased after them.” Who did he think he was, Usain Bolt? Unc sprained his ankle running after the vandals, and, under doctor’s orders, had to take time off until he could put full weight on his foot.

Savvy waved her bag of food containers at him, carrying it into the kitchen. She put the containers in the fridge and placed the sealed envelope on the Formica countertop; she had written “ROOF” on the front with a Sharpie. “I’m supposed to run an errand, but I think I’m just going to go into the office for a few hours. How was your week?”

He stood in the doorway, rolling his eyes. “I’m bored. I want to be back at work, but they want me to be off the crutches first.”

“I support that decision.”

“Yeah, well. Ain’t got much to do, other than checkin’ in on Mabel.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Miss Mabel, huh?” Mabel Winslow lived across the street from Savvy’s grandparents’ house most of her life. Like Unc, Miss Mabel grew up in her house. 

She’d moved away when she married but returned after a bad divorce to help care for her parents. When her parents passed within a month of each other, they left Mabel the house and their golden retriever, Samson. A smile curved across her lips. “You’ve been jonesing after Miss Mabel since I was in high school. Tell me you finally asked her out.”

Uncle Joe shook his head, fighting a smile, his upper lip curled slightly with amusement. “I’m a gentleman, Baby Girl.”

“Uh, gentlemen go on dates, Unc.” She winked at him, coaxing laughter.

“We ain’t there yet. I just stopped by to see how she’s doing. You know she was in that car accident a couple weeks ago. Tweaked her back.”

“Is she okay?” She leaned against the counter.

“Says she is, but I think she might need a couple rounds of physical therapy. Doesn’t hurt to make sure she’s fully recovered.”

Savvy eyed her uncle. “Sounds like somebody can dish advice he isn’t willing to take…”

He tsked, pursing his lips at her. “Thank you for the help with the roof, but listen, Baby Girl. You workin’ too much. And you should be putting this money toward your own house.”

She rolled her eyes, following him into the den, where his favorite leather recliner faced a big screen TV. “You are forever saying I work too much. And I want to help, Unc.”

He sat gingerly, leaning his crutch against one of his armrests. “You need a vacation.”

“You know I work the way I do because of what I learned from you and Mama. It’s just what we do.”

“Nah. We worked hard so that you wouldn’t have to, Savvy. Your mama pushes you because she thinks you have to climb the corporate ladder to stay on it.” He wagged a finger at her.

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Well, I am my mother’s daughter, and I feel most secure knowing that if either of you need me, I am in a position to help.”

Mama carried two, sometimes three jobs when Savvy and her brothers were little to make sure they were fed, that their shoes fit, and that they could participate in sports or other activities. Their dad had a wandering eye and left to be with another woman, leaving Mama to be Wonder Woman for the family. Savvy missed one first grade field trip due to a lack of funds, and Mama worked herself ragged to avoid that ever happening again. Pops never really got his shit together, losing touch with Savvy when he started his third family.

“The roof money is from a rainy-day fund, and if you think about it, those rainy days are exactly what we need to keep out of this house. I can do my renovations anytime.” She offered Uncle a crooked smile.

He shook his head, annoyed at her humor. “I know you’re itchin’ to redo that kitchen.”

She stood, ready to leave before he could march into an assessment of her current setup. An updated kitchen was at the very top of her bucket list. “I am. But you always came through for me. Let me do that for you.”

He pursed his lips, offered his cheek, and she leaned in to kiss it.

“You’ll be back on your feet in no time. In the meantime, call me whenever you need. Got that?”

“Mmm-hmm. Love you, Baby Girl.”

“I love you more, Uncle.” Savvy winked at him and turned to leave. “Let me know when you and Miss Mabel go out on your hot date!” 

Excerpted from Savvy Sheldon Feels Good as Hell by Taj McCoy © 2022 by Taj McCoy, used with permission by MIRA/HarperCollins.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Audible | Paperback | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Oakland native and attorney Taj McCoy is committed to writing stories championing black and biracial women of color, plus-sized protagonists, and characters with a strong sense of sisterhood and familial bonds. When she’s not writing, she may be on Twitter boosting other marginalized writers, trying to zen out in yoga, sharing recipes on her website, or cooking private supper club meals for close friends.

Connect:

Author website: https://www.tajmccoywrites.com/ 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/tajmccoywrites?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the1whowill/?hl=en 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20626681.Taj_McCoy 

Spotlight: Claim by Piper Lawson

Release Date: March 22

He showed me a side of myself I never dreamed existed. 

Olivia’s professor promised her lessons she couldn’t learn in class.

What he didn’t expect was to find peace from his tormented past in her arms. 

Now, that past has caught up to both of them, ripping them apart even when he vowed she was the person who mattered most.

He has one chance to fight for what’s right, even if it costs him his career, his reputation, his happiness.

She has one chance to claim the future she’s worked for and grasp her dreams.

But in a world hellbent on judgment, freedom has a price. 

What if the price is love?

CLAIM is an illicit, forbidden full-length novel and the explosive book 3 in the OFF-LIMITS trilogy. Sawyer and Olivia’s story begins in CRAVE and continues in COLLIDE. 

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

Piper Lawson is a USA Today bestselling author of smart, steamy romance! She writes about women who follow their dreams (even the scary ones), best friends who know your dirty secrets (and love you anyway), and complex heroes you’ll fall hard for (especially after talking with them). Brains or brawn? She’ll never make you choose. Piper lives in Canada with her tall, dark and brilliant husband. She believes peanut is a protein, rose gold is a neutral, and love is ALWAYS the answer.

Connect with Piper Lawson:

Join her VIP list now ➜ https://www.piperlawsonbooks.com/subscribe

Hang with Piper in her Facebook reader group! ➜ http://www.facebook.com/groups/884510215014212/

The Interwebs➜ www.piperlawsonbooks.com

Facebook➜ www.facebook.com/piperlawsonbooks

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BookBub➜ https://www.bookbub.com/authors/piper-lawson

Spotlight: As You Look by Veronica Guiterrez

Yolanda Ávila, a former LAPD cop-turned private investigator, blames herself for her mother's death in a road rage accident. It was her fault. The perpetrator was a suspect she'd pursued in an unrelated case, someone she should've caught by tracking down a license plate number. Any good detective would've done that. But she got cocky, thought she'd catch him by following clues from a stupid dream instead. The only salve against the guilt eating at her now is Yolanda's vow to reject that juju crap.

But when her godson Joey is kidnapped, his parents are suspected of murder, and a stalker threatens her wife Sydney to warn Yolanda off the case, she must deal with more than just the facts. She must confront the juju to overcome her guilt and deal with pent-up grief--or risk losing yet another loved one.

Excerpt

The morning of Mom’s funeral, I got a call from the Highway Patrol investigator. The man who’d run my mom off the road had been killed instantly when his car crashed into a freeway pylon. They’d had trouble identifying him because he’d used several aliases. Blood drained from my face at the mention of three names all too familiar to me- an identity thief I’d been tracking. I’d followed a stupid dream vision about his location, instead of the one real lead I had- a license plate that could have led me to him earlier. 

“Stupid, stupid, STUPID!” I’d said over and over, pounding my forehead with my first after that call. Sydney had tried to convince me that I couldn’t have done anything to prevent the road-rage accident. That it was a freak coincidence. The guy had no way of knowing I had conducted Internet searches for him. But I wouldn’t listen. I was numb with guilt throughout the funeral and went through the motions of accepting condolences without feeling anything. Sydney told me later that she was afraid I wasn’t letting myself grieve. But how could I? I was too busy blaming myself. I vowed, then and there, to be done with this intuition and dream crap, and stick to the facts. If I’d done that, I would’ve traced the old license plate, found the guy, kept him off the road somehow, and saved my mother. She’d be alive. She was dead because I hadn’t done detective work the way they’d drilled into us at the Academy a lifetime ago. 

Maybe it was a good thing I’d left the LAPD. Maybe I wasn’t cult out to be a copy after all. No. I was a good cop. Damned good. But that was before I’d been shot, long before all this juju stuff surfaced. 

I fidgeted under the covers, antsy with guilt all over again. Sydney may get me to say otherwise, but I was never going to believer I wasn’t responsible for Mom’s death. I sat up and tried to slow my breathing, biting my lower lip. 

“Syd,” I called out when she stepped out of the shower. “Why’d you do that? Why’d you make me remember? I am not going to repeat that mistake. It will never happen again.” I wiped a lingering tear. 

“Babe.” She stepped back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, her smooth, dark skin glistening with moisture. “I just think the juju can help with the guilt.” 

I started to protest but flopped back onto my pillow when she continued. 

“You know deep down that it wasn’t your fault, but you won’t acknowledge it.” She sat beside me on the bed, her own scar- “my Taliban tattoo,” she called it- highlighting her right biceps. “I just want you to be all of you, love.” She placed her hand over my heart, her kind, brown eyes locked on mine. “I know I can’t tell you how to grieve, but acknowledging anything- even this psychic stuff- has gotta be better than that unjustified guilt. It’s been almost a year.” 

I knew she was trying to help, but the psychic thing was a step too far. 

“Please. I am not psychic. And even if I had some. . . what do you and Jesse call it? Psychic intuition? It could never be reliable. It’s just a distraction.” I sat up again and hugged her. “No, love, don’t worry- this juju stuff’s not for me. Besides, it would never hold up in court. I’d be laughed off the witness stand. Nah . . . If Mom’s death taught me anything, it’s that we shouldn’t let the juju get in the way. And it won’t. I’ll call Carmen now. You’ll see. Joey’s fine.” 

I Dialed Carmen on speaker and heard road noise when she answered. 

“Hey, mujer. Off to work already?” I tried to sound unconcerned, calling her “woman,” one of the terms we used for each other. 

Buenos dias, comadre. Have a deposition downtown. Gotta get in early and kick some butt. My client waited until last night to tell me about another witness. Can you believer it? Chingado. What’s up?” 

“Um, just checking in on Joey’s party tomorrow.” The little white lie couldn’t hurt. “What time should we be there? What can we bring?” 

“Ah, you’ve turned into your mother, Yolanda.” I felt her smile through the phone. “She would never arrive to a party empty-handed.” 

“No Avila would. What can I say?” 

“Well, now that you mention it, how about your potato salad? Or Sydney’s awesome mac and cheese? Either would be fine. Say one o’clock? Joey’ll be getting hyper before the party and you and Sydney are so good with him.” 

“Carbs and entertainment for a six-year-old. You got it. Good luck with the depo.” 

“Gracias, mujer.” 

We hung up, and I raised my eyebrows at Sydney, feeling justified. She gave a curt nod. 

“You’ll still be careful today, right?” she said, standing up. 

“Absolutely!” I jumped out of bed, pretending to feel much better about the rest of my day. I knew it would take most of it to shake off the resurfaced guilt. I’d done it before. All it took was concentrating on my work, keeping busy. The thought made me feel a little better-perhaps prematurely.

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Verónica Gutiérrez is a former community organizer, civil rights attorney, municipal employee, non-profit leader, and corporate executive. She draws from years of experience in those worlds for her writing. Verónica was born and raised in Boyle Heights, the Los Angeles neighborhood that her protagonist, Yolanda Avila, P.I., calls home. Verónica and her wife Laura split their time between Los Angeles and San Francisco. Both are home bar enthusiasts and avid travelers. They host cocktail-lesson-themed fundraisers―called Mixology on a Mission―to help Los Angeles non-profits grow their donor base. Verónica published My Little Black Cocktail Book, a journal to organize her research and help others do the same. Some of the recipes she collects make it into her writing.

Connect:

https://veronicagutierrez.com/

Spotlight: The Lying Club by Annie Ward

Publication Date: March 22, 2022

Publisher: Park Row Books

From the acclaimed author of Beautiful Bad comes an explosive new novel of revenge, murder and shocking secrets—where the victims aren’t who you might think. Perfect for fans of Liane Moriarty, Lucy Foley, and Liv Constantine.

Three women. Two bodies. One big lie…

A tangled web of lies draws together three women in this explosive thriller of revenge, murder and shocking secrets.

At an elite private school nestled in the Colorado mountains, Natalie, an office assistant, dreams of having a life like the school moms she deals with every day. Women like Brooke—a gorgeous heiress, ferociously loving mother and serial cheater—and Asha, an overprotective mom who suspects her husband of having an affair. Their fates are bound by the handsome assistant athletic director Nicholas, whom Natalie loves, Brooke wants and Asha needs.

But when two bodies are carried out of the school one morning, it seems the tension between mothers and daughters, rival lovers, and the haves and have-nots has shattered the surface of this isolated, affluent town—where people stop at nothing to get what they want.

Excerpt

Prologue

THE NECKTIE OF her ex was still clasped in her hand when Natalie woke. Her head was pounding, and her mouth tasted bad, like she’d fallen into bed without brushing her teeth. She had a horrible, cloudy feeling that she’d done something regrettable, but in that moment, she couldn’t remember what it was.

She wasn’t at home. Instead, she was upright, a seat belt crossing her chest. In front of her was the windshield of her own car, coated in a sheet of frost, and her I LOVE COLORADO! key chain was dangling from the ignition.

Natalie realized then that she’d blacked out. It had happened before, when she was much younger, and the memory of that awful awakening hit her with an electrifying jolt. After a frantic inspection, she concluded that all her clothes were on and nothing seemed torn or altered. She slipped the tie into her coat pocket.

Yanking the rearview mirror toward her face, she saw that her hazel eyes were huge, the pupils tiny pinpoints, and her mascara was smudged. A chapped crack ran down the bottom of her lower lip, but there were no other bruises or cuts. It didn’t appear that she’d crashed into a building or a tree. There were no sirens.

She rolled down her window, and a thin wall of ice collapsed into the car, dampening her plaid skirt. It was almost dark outside.

Work. She was at work. Across the snowy parking lot, she could see the back door to the east wing of the private school where she was an administrative assistant in the front office.

Pulling on her stocking cap and opening the car door, Natalie noticed footprints, slightly softened by snowfall, leading from her car to the rear exit of the school’s gym. Another set of identical prints returned from the door to the car, but not in a straight line. They zigzagged, and there was a large compression in the snow, just about the size of a small person like her. Gingerly, she lowered one boot into the first of the prints to make sure it was a match. It was. It seemed likely that the body-shaped spot in the snow was an indication that she’d fallen, and a quick pat down of her coat confirmed that it was wet.

Natalie stepped out of her car and squinted into the wind. Her legs felt weak, as if she’d just returned from one of her longer runs.

She retraced her own tracks, leading to the school. The sky was changing color from a grayish stormy dusk to night, and it struck Natalie, who loved art, that the swirling white flurries between her and the stars resembled a monochrome Van Gogh painting. Snow-capped peaks surrounded her on all sides. Down the mountain was the town center. Lights twinkled. Houses, vacation condos, and old-timey shops were piled like Christmas gifts on top of one another alongside a dark and twisting river.

The heavy back door was ajar. When she tugged on it, it groaned, scraped, and opened. Heart pounding, she went in.

During school hours, the sports pavilion would have been filled with the sound of bouncing basketballs, laughter, whistles, and sneakers squeaking on the gym floor. Now, there was distant, droning pop music playing up on the mezzanine, but no one was singing along or dropping weights to the floor with a crash.

Natalie walked with slow, hesitant steps over to the double doors that opened onto the basketball courts.

Normally those doors stood propped open by gray rubber wedges. Now they were closed, but each had a rectangular window. Natalie curled her hand and made a cup for her eyes.

It took a second to see anything at all. The court was dim, aglow only from the small green emergency lights situated over the doors and in the corners of the room. Her eyes were adjusting. Something was there.

She jumped away from the door as if the glass had burned her skin. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. A scream almost escaped, but she stopped it in her throat with a choking noise.

Not far from the door was what looked like a crumpled pile of clothes and broken body parts, motionless in the middle of a spreading pool of blood.

What the hell did I do?

The security lights in the Falcon Academy parking lot flickered. It was early Monday morning and still dark. A beat-up Pathfinder left tracks in the snow as it swerved into a spot re-served for employees.

Harry Doyle climbed out and used his heel to squelch a cigarette into the ground. He grabbed a battered baseball cap from the dashboard and plopped it on his head, holding down what little was left of his hair. After slamming the driver’s door shut, he looked up at the sky, which was turning pink and orange to the east. An enormous blanket of fluffy white covered the parking lot. Last night had been the first big storm of the season, and some parents would call their kids in sick so they could hit the slopes with their friends.

The sixty-eight-year-old custodian shuffled towards the rear entrance of the sports pavilion. The automatic fluorescents in the back hallway glowed a sickly yellow. He hummed as he plodded down the hall to the boys’ changing room, where he put his lunch and jacket away in his locker before going to the storage closet. Harry grabbed the fiberglass handle of the deluxe wet mop and hauled it, and the bucket, out into the corridor toward the basketball courts. Pushing past the double doors, he activated all nine light switches with a swipe of his hand. The bulky, caged gymnasium overheads burst to life with a buzz.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, dropping the mop.

The handle clattered against the maple wood planks. “Oh dear God.” The words came out strangled.

Harry scrambled for his phone in a zippered compartment of his slacks.

“Hello?” he managed to say, after dialing 911. He was having trouble breathing. “The Falcon Academy. Off Highway 70. Just west of Blackswift. Oh Jesus. Jesus Mary and Joseph. We need help. There’s a lot of blood.”

Excerpted from The Lying Club by Annie Ward, Copyright © 2022 by Annie Ward. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

Buy on Amazon Kindle | Audible | Hardcover | Paperback | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Annie Ward is the author of Beautiful Bad. She has a BA in English literature from UCLA and an MFA in screenwriting from the American Film Institute. Her first short screenplay, Strange Habit, starring Adam Scott, was an official selection of the Sundance Film Festival and the Grand Jury Award winner at the Aspen Film Festival. She has received a Fulbright scholarship and an Escape to Create artist residency. She lives in Kansas with her family.

Connect:

Author Website

Twitter: @_annie_ward

Facebook: @anniewardbooks

Goodreads

Spotlight: The Change Up by Samantha Lind

Release Date: March 17

Matt

I had it all:

A great job. 

Fame. 

Wealth.

I didn’t have her.

She’s the one I let slip away – from my bed on vacation. 

She didn’t know who I was or what my batting average was.

I got to be myself with her and now I wish I’d gotten her number.

Hannah

It was supposed to be fun. 

He was hot.

I needed a break. 

I got two little pink lines. 

So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to find him or what to say.

But here he is. 

Matt Riley - professional baseball player and my baby's daddy.

Maybe, a night of fun could turn into my forever.

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About the Author

Samantha Lind is a contemporary romance author. Having spent the first 27 years of her life in Alaska, she now calls Iowa home where she lives with her husband and two sons. She enjoys spending time with her family, traveling, reading, watching hockey (Go Knights Go!), and listening to country music.

Connect with Samantha Lind:

Website: http://www.samanthalind.com  

Newsletter: https://bit.ly/FDSLNL

Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/SamanthaLindAuthor

Facebook Profile: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100015316351814 

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Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/samanthalind 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/samantha-lind 

Spotlight: Antipodes by Talita Lawrence

Release Date: March 18

Reagan
It was meant to be a date of convenience. I received an all-expenses paid trip to Italy in exchange for signing one hell of a non-disclosure agreement. Ty Landon, drummer in the chart-breaking rock band Scarlet Shadow, needed a wedding date and made me an offer too good to refuse.

But it turned out that I signed my heart away when I signed that contract. There was something about Ty that made every single warning bell go off inside my body like a fire alarm. I welcomed the heat, despite knowing that this little arrangement of ours had an expiration date. Pity that neither of us believed in fairy tales.

Ty
I was taken with Reagan from the moment we met, but I wasn’t a believer in relationships or love. Whatever this was, I convinced myself that it couldn’t be more than just physical attraction. But somehow, she crawled under my skin and she lingered.

I was trying to break free from my past. The last thing I expected was to meet my destiny. She made me change every rule, and I started believing again. But that was my mistake because it turned out that I was always destined to break her wings.

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About the Author

Talita Lawrence writes intense contemporary romance novels, taking imperfect characters and putting them on a trajectory to finding not only great love, but also themselves. While her boys and demanding cat (who secretly plots to rule the world) keep her on her toes, there is nothing she enjoys more than a glass of wine and a good book to unwind. 

Her stories are fast-paced and passionate with a good dose of humor thrown in, and a happily ever after is always guaranteed. She lives by the saying that sometimes you have to get lost in order to find yourself, and what better way to do that, than to get lost inside the pages of a book…

Connect with Talita via social media and be the first to know about new releases and character-inspired edits: 

Instagram: @Talita.Lawrence.Author

TikTok: @Talitalawrence