Spotlight: Kiss Me Forever by Layla Hagen

Release Date: July 22

Last night, he was a sexy stranger I couldn't get enough of.Today, he's my new boss, who I can't seem to please.

Bad luck seems to follow me. Last night, I grabbed a drink at the bar near my new workplace.

I met the most sophisticated man when he “stole” my table. We bantered and danced, and I went home with a stranger for the first time in my life.The next morning, I find out my hot one-night stand is my new boss. Gone is the playful, charming man from last night. Luke Maxwell is all business, acting as if our night together never happened.

He’s impossible to please, but I’m determined to succeed. This job is my chance to prove myself and put my past—and my ex—behind me. I’m not going to mess this up.

But then we go on a business trip together and end up stranded for the night. Instead of discussing our project, he kisses me in the elevator and throws a jealous fit, claiming I’m his.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who can’t forget our evening together after all.

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Meet Layla Hagen: 

Welcome! My name is Layla Hagen and I am a Contemporary Romance author.I fell in love with books when I was nine years old, and my love affair with stories continues even now, many years later. I write romantic stories and can't wait to share them with the world. And I drink coffee. Lots of it :-DSIGN UP FOR MY MAILING LIST and find out about future books as soon as they are released! (just copy and paste this link in your browser to sign up): http://laylahagen.com/mailing-list-sign-up/I am represented by Louise Fury (The Bent Agency)

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Spotlight: Dark Hearts by M. O’Keefe

Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

“No man ever made me so curious. Or reckless.”

Poppy lives a charmed life. From the outside she’s the wife of a wealthy senator, wearing jewels and designer clothes. Other people don’t know she lives in the dark. Her husband is a monster in a bespoke suit.

Then Ronan Byrne shows up on their marble doorstep, armed and dangerous. He sees through her calm, cultured facade to the fear underneath.

He’s determined to help her, whether she wants it or not.

“M. O’Keefe brings her A-game in this sexy, complicated romance where you’re left questioning if everything you thought was true!” – New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg

DARK HEARTS is a boxed set that contains three full-length novels: Ruined, Broken, and Untamed by bestselling and award-winning author M. O’Keefe.

Welcome to the Midnight Dynasty… The warring Morelli and Constantine families have enough bad blood to fill an ocean, and their brand new stories will be told by your favorite dangerous romance authors.

WARNING: This book is intended for readers eighteen years old and over. It contains material that some readers could find disturbing. Enter at your own risk…

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About the Author

M. O'Keefe is the darker, more dangerous pen name of bestselling author Molly O'Keefe. She is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Everything I Left Unsaid series and the upcoming Stolen Hearts. To find out more visit www.molly-okeefe.com

Connect:

https://www.molly-okeefe.com/

https://twitter.com/MollyOKwrites

https://www.facebook.com/MollyOKeefeBooks

https://www.instagram.com/mokeefeauthor/

Spotlight: Birthright by Jeanette Baker

Publisher: Top Reads Publishing LLC

Pages: 254

Genre: Women’s Fiction

Two women on a course to confront the past, one to expose its secrets, the other to bury them. 

Claire Williams travels halfway across the globe from Southern California to Ireland to find the mother who gave her up and the questions that need answering. Norah O’Connor is equally determined to avoid revisiting the most shameful time of her life and the devastating decisions she was forced to make.

Claire’s presence fifty years later is the engine for the confrontations to come when neighbors Norah has known forever recognize Claire’s resemblance to a younger sister. Norah must face the man who fathered both her daughters, and decide to either hold the secrets that continue to embitter her or release them for the shame that will surely mark her.

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Tralee, Co. Kerry, Ireland

Norah

         Look at the time, half-eight, and not a child in the house washed. The expression was my late mother’s, voiced nearly every day in the house where I grew up, ten children tucked into two bedrooms with one bath upstairs.

We were never close, my mother and me, not for any particular reason I can remember, we just didn’t get on. It was Fiona and Kathleen she preferred and Jimmy, always Jimmy, her middle child, the ciotogach, the red-headed lefty of our family who wasn’t supposed to amount to much and ended up in America with more in the bank than all of us put together.

The funny thing is Jimmy loved Tralee, still does, more than Keith or Liam or Michael, certainly more than I ever did. I was desperate to immigrate and wouldn’t have come back, not after Boston, but some things can’t be planned and shouldn’t be remembered.

Never mind all that, my mother would say. Memories never emptied the sink or hung out the washing. All they’re good for is regret. She was right. I know now that she was a font of wisdom I didn’t appreciate. It was my dad I preferred, the jokester, the man’s man, always ready with a wink, a story and a pint. Even when he told me bees could be captured in a can without a lid because they never looked up and I tried it and nearly died from the experience, I blamed myself and never doubted him. Interesting how perspectives change after six decades.

 Speaking of the washing, it’s a good day for it, breezy without a hint of rain. I’m moving slowly today, feeling unsettled, looking for an excuse to avoid housework. Fergus Murphy, the postman, on his way to the door, is as fine a reason as any to sit down for a pot of tea and a scone.

“Good morning, Mrs. Malone,” he calls out. “How is the day treating you so far?”

“It’s a bit early to weigh in on the day, Mr. Murphy. Have you time for a cup of tea. It’s just made and the scones are fresh.”

He scratches his head, checks to see that his few remaining wisps of hair are positioned over the shiny dome of his head, and winks. “Wasn’t I just thinking how I’d like one of Mrs. Malone’s scones?”

“Come in, then.” I hold the door for him. “Mind the step and sit down.” I pour two cups of tea, set out the butter, a fresh knife, spoons and the milk jug. “I hear that Bridget Walsh’s son came home for good this time. Did his marriage go bad?”

“Isn’t it an awful shame?” he replies. “They’re different about marriage in America, replacing husbands and wives the same as they do their automobiles.”

As far as I’m concerned people in Ireland aren’t any different when it comes to replacing a spouse, only we don’t bother to make it legal. We just up and move in with someone else. But I won’t get any information by speaking my mind. “It is a shame,” I agree. “Poor Billy Walsh. She’s a lovely girl, though, isn’t she?” I refill his cup. He finishes one scone and eyes mine. “Would you like another scone, Mr. Murphy?”

“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Malone. This is a particularly delicious batch.”

“As I was saying, Mr. Murphy, Sheila Walsh is a lovely girl. I can’t imagine why Billy would leave her.”

“I heard it isn’t Billy who did the leaving.”

“Did you?”

“Aye. Word has it she’s tired of Billy’s drinking, that and no work for more than two years. Those American girls have expectations.”

“As we all should, Mr. Murphy.”

He drains the last of his tea. Only a few crumbs remain of the scone. “A pint now and then can be tolerated if a man brings home his earnings.”

I nod. “True enough. Given the circumstances, I can’t be too sorry for Billy Walsh.”

“We mustn’t be too hard on him, Mrs. Malone. A second chance may be just what he needs.”

A second chance with a mother who would wash his clothes, cook his meals and pick up after him.  What a pity we aren’t all so lucky. Another sentiment I’ll keep to myself. If I collect a shilling every time I bite my tongue to keep the words in, I’ll be living in an estate in Ballyard. Instead, I smile. The postman has taken enough of my time. “Have a wonderful day, Mr. Murphy. Watch out for the dog living second next door. His bark is worse than his bite, but you never know.”

“I’ll do that, Mrs. Malone.” He reaches into his bag and draws out an envelope. “I have a letter for you, all the way from America.”

“I’ll take it off your hands, thanks very much.” I stuff it into the pocket of my apron hoping he hasn’t noticed the trembling of my hands.

He tips his hat. “My pleasure, Mrs. Malone.  Tell himself I said hello. I hope he’s helping you here at home now that he’s taken redundancy.”

“He is and I will. Mind the step.” It takes enormous effort to smile and wave and watch him pass the house. I shut the door tightly and pull out the envelope. I don’t recognize the writing? Would I know it if I saw it? Would someone write after fifty years? The return address says California. Funny, I can’t see him in California. He’ll always be Boston to me, that city of uncompromising divisions, Southie and the North End, Beacon Hill and Roxbury, segregated neighborhoods amid the bluest blood in America, which, if you think about it, isn’t really very blue at all. Yes, Boston is a fitting place for lace-curtain Irish with immigrating sons, like the O’Sullivan family.

I tear the side open and pulled out the single sheet of paper. I don’t bother with the body of the letter, my eyes finding and focusing on the closing, the signature. Relief and the smallest hint of disappointment weaken my knees and I sit down quickly. Of course, it isn’t him. What do I expect after all these years?

I turn my attention to the letter. Who on earth is Claire Williams and what does she want? The only people I know in America aren’t speaking to me.

Minutes later I manage to find my way to the bathroom and lock the door. Fumbling with the toilet lid, I let it fall into place and sit down heavily. I know I’m breathing. I must be breathing, or else I’d be dead. Dear, almighty God! I’m 69 years old. How could this happen? Surely after five decades, I ought to be safe. Damn those nuns.

 Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Jeanette Baker is the award-winning author of twenty paranormal, historical and contemporary novels, most of them set in the lush countryside of Southwest Ireland where she lives with her husband and writes during the “Seasons of Silence,” the autumn and winter months. Her ancestors, the O'Flahertys, hail from the counties of Kerry and Galway. She takes great pride in the prayer posted by the English over the ancient city gates, “From the wrath of the O'Flahertys, may the good Lord deliver us.

Jeanette spent many years teaching 6th grade in a small school nestled under a canopy of Eucalyptus trees where the children consistently surprised her with their wisdom, their hopefulness and their enthusiasm for great stories. Currently, she enjoys the company of her own grown children and her precious grandchildren. 

Jeanette graduated from the University of California at Irvine and holds a Master’s Degree in Education. 

She is the Rita award-winning author of NELL.

Her latest book is the women’s fiction, Birthright.

You can visit her website at www.JeanetteBaker.com  or connect with her on Facebook.

Spotlight: On Destiny by Aileen Erin

(Aunare Chronicles, #4)
Published by: Ink Monster LLC
Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Dystopian, Young Adult

Synopsis:

The moment I realized I had to go back to Earth, I panicked.

It wasn’t a little bit of panic. It was the kind that sucked the air and light from the room and made my body go cold with sweat and fear. I knew that if I did this, if I went back, then I had a shot of saving everyone—Earthers, Aunare, everyone—but it could cost me everything and everyone I love. And it could cost me my life.

But that moment of panic passed. It was still an insane, stupid, deadly idea, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew going back to Earth was the only plan that made sense.

Lorne agrees that this is the right plan, but he wants to come with me. We’re married now. A team. A unit. Where I go, he goes. It was in our marriage vows. And while I love that, I know that going to Earth will hurt him. He’ll want to see where I lived, how I survived, and seeing, knowing, understanding my past better will only hurt him. And yet, I don’t have a better plan.

There will be no hiding there. Not anymore. Everyone on Earth knows my face.

The vids of what happened on Abaddon and Sel’Ani have played throughout the known universe for months. But seeing those vids opened the Earthers’ eyes. They realized that I’d been fighting for them for years before I left. I’d taught martial arts, patrolled the streets, and helped save as many of them as I could. And now, somehow, my story has inspired Eathers to speak up and act out.

My name has become the rallying cry of the revolution.

Returning to Earth is risky, but nothing in life is without risk. I’m not afraid anymore. All I feel is determination to win. I won’t stop until SpaceTech has been destroyed.

Excerpt

I WAS MOVING SO FAST that I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. If I thought too hard about it, I would trip and fall. All I could think was move, move, move.

No lights flashed. No deafening siren. And I knew there wouldn’t be one. The Crew gave no warning to trespassers.

The soft beep after the door closed was too soft for anyone to really notice, but I knew it was there. I’d been listening for it. I’d trained to listen for it. And I knew what it meant.

Poison gas would fill the hallway unless I made it to the other end of the hallway in time.

The hallway was long and thin and dark and I couldn’t see where it ended or how much farther I had to go. So I moved.

Moved.

Moved.

At the door, there was a second keypad. That code rotated, but a few of us had a master code for that one. We hadn’t set a master code for the outside one, which seemed stupid in retrospect, but none of us ever planned to be out of touch. If I ever got away, I never thought I’d be stupid enough to come back.

What had I been thinking?

I should’ve asked that guy at the door for the new code. Or he should’ve given it to me. But maybe this had been a test of some sort. Maybe the guy hated me. Fucked if I knew.

The guys were behind me, too far. But only I had the code.

Roan had the same code. Once it was entered, the gas alarm would turn off.

There was another soft beep.

I was running out of time. Two more soft beeps and it’d be done.

I put another burst of energy in my legs, and then I was at the door. I had seconds. If that. My hands moved quickly over the keypad, but every time I entered the code, the keypad turned red and beeped.

Fuck that. It wasn’t a fake code. This was the master.

This had to work. I didn’t have a backup.

I entered it again.

Red. Beep-Beeeeeep.

Fuck off. I entered it again.

Red. Beep-Beeeeep.

You son of a bitch.

It wasn’t working.

They changed the master code.

I slammed my hand on the door. Someone would hear. Someone would come.

Slam-slam-slam-slam-slam.

“Come on. Come on.”

“Amihanna?” Lorne said softly. “What’s happening?” I didn’t know when he’d caught up with me, but I couldn’t die in here. I couldn’t let all of them die in here. I couldn’t let him down.

I ignored Lorne. Slam-slam-slam-slam.

Nothing.

Slam-slam-slam-slam.

There was another soft beep.

Only one left.

I couldn’t believe I’d come this far, lived this long, survived through so much, only to get taken down by my own goddamned booby trap.

This was so stupid.

I slammed my hand on the door and then rested my forehead against it, waiting for the poison.

“Amihanna. What’s going on?” Lorne asked again.

“Am!” I heard Roan yelling but I couldn’t deal with his drama right now.

I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. I couldn’t think. “I need to get through the door and it’s not opening. There’s—”

“Stop fucking around. Blow it the fuck up, Am!” Roan screamed at me. His voice was getting louder.

I turned to see him running down the dark hallways, going as fast as he could.

“Hurry the fuck up, Am. Before the fucking poison releases!”

I closed my eyes. Holy shit. Being on this planet was making me feel like I was a helpless halfer again. Less than an hour on the ground here and I’d already forgotten everything I’d learned.

But I was more than just an Earther now.

“Step back,” I said.

I crossed my wrists in front of my chest and gathered power. A second later I swept my hands across my body as I screamed.

The door exploded into a million tiny pieces. Lorne held out his hand, and all the flying bits flared into ash.

I dropped my chin to my chest as I tried to rein in the power that had risen inside me. I’d panicked. Not even an hour on Earth and I’d already fucked up.

Roan was right. What the hell was I doing?

My breaths were coming in quick puffs, and Lorne tugged me to him, wrapping his arms around me. “You alright?”

“Just a moron.” A complete idiot who almost got us all killed.

“Next time remember that you’re an Aunare, and use words before you freak out.”

I whimpered.

“You have to communicate. Remember, you said you would. I know it’s got to be impossibly hard to be back here, and you’re going to slip into your old self so easily. But you can’t forget what you learned. Okay?”

I tried to catch my breath. Stupid. I was so stupid. But he was right. I forgot everything. “I just…being here…I feel like the old me.”

He held me away from him for a moment. “You’re not. You’re more—stronger, faster, better—than you ever were. So, let’s not do that again. Okay?”

Not do that again? I huffed. “Yeah. Definitely not. That sucked.”

Someone punched my shoulder and I looked over to see Roan grinning at me.

“You think this is funny?”

“You forgetting that you’re badass? Kinda.” He motioned to the opening that I’d blown in the wall. “Listen.”

Listen?

There was yelling in the room beyond the door, and when the dust settled, I was standing in front of Haden, who held a gun in his hand, pointed straight at me.

I tugged down my hood. There wouldn’t be cams in here.

His eyes widened. “Maité?” He slowly started to lower the gun.

I gave him a grin. “Amihanna,” I corrected. I had a feeling I’d be doing this a lot.

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Aileen Erin is half-Irish, half-Mexican, and 100% nerd–from Star Wars (prequels don’t count) to Star Trek (TNG FTW), she reads Quenya and some Sindarin, and has a severe fascination with the supernatural. Aileen has a BS in Radio-TV-Film from the University of Texas at Austin, and an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. She lives with her husband in Los Angeles, and spends her days doing her favorite things: reading books, creating worlds, and kicking ass.

Connect:
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7190350.Aileen_Erin
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Spotlight: Love You Again by Julia Kent

(Love You, Maine, #2)
Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

Set in the woodsy small town of Luview, “Love You,” Maine – a tourist favorite where every day is Valentine’s Day – local police officer and single dad Luke Luview has spent the last two years making his young daughter his priority after his wife’s death. When first-love Kylie Hood comes back into town under bizarre circumstances, he learns that nothing’s a coincidence – and maybe second chances are possible after all.

If you’re looking for a fun read about first kisses, second chances, featuring a hot single dad small town police officer and his accidental nanny, set in a small town in New England, with a golden retriever named Jester, a heroine whose dream in life is to run a fairy camp, and a hero who wants to build a place where everyone belongs – then this is your book.

Grab a cup of coffee, tea, and maybe some edible glitter, and get your happy meter ready as you read the second book in the Love You, Maine series – where love isn’t just a feeling – it’s a way of life.

✓Single Dad
✓Second chance
✓Small town romance
✓Local police officer and his last-minute nanny
…and a Golden Retriever named Jester

Excerpt

A white puff of air filled the space between him and the steering wheel, and he realized he’d sighed. How long had he been sitting here, mind and memory in the past? Shoving his hands into gloves, he opened the rear door, grabbed the white plastic bag, and made his way to the front of the bin.

Determined, focused, and grim: That was Luke Luview these days. A bad match for a town that existed to make people feel good about love.

Living in Love You, Maine–heck, being a Luview–was never harder than when you had a broken heart.

Time to let go of some of the pain.

“AAAAAAooooooooo,” called out a band of coyotes in the distance, making Luke jolt. His personal weapon was at home. He didn’t carry it in the glove compartment or on his body when he was off duty, but as the coyote population grew in the area, maybe he should.

A few feet from the donation bin’s front, he looked at the lever to pull down, squeezing the bag slightly. A whiff of Amber’s perfume caught his nose, so faint he almost imagined it.

Colleen had washed all the clothes a few weeks ago, so he knew he imagined Amber’s scent. Didn’t matter. He’d take the illusion. That was how much he hurt.

A skitter inside the box made him frown.

Damn animals. They got in those bins all the time. He felt sorry for the poor sap who emptied these metal boxes, carting all the goods to the warehouse in Manchester where they cleaned and sorted, getting it all ready for the second-hand retail stores.

Just do this, he thought, swallowing hard as the coyotes mated in the distance. The sound was violent and creepy, but for whatever reason, it felt fitting.

Throwing the tangible reminders of that terrible day into the donation box felt dangerous, too.

“I love you, Amber,” he murmured. “But I have to let you go. Have to let that day go. Harriet needs a daddy who isn’t tied down by grief. Just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean I love you any less, though.”

Tears pricked his eyes. “Why is this so hard? Because it’s hard,” he said with a huff. “That’s what you would say if you were here. You’d hug me and comfort me and tell me feelings are meant to be felt or they’d be called something else. You’d have all the right words. I don’t have any. I just have a big hole in my life, Amber. And you’re never going to fill it. Colleen says I can’t feel guilty for moving on. I don’t. But I sure do feel weird.”

And then he reached for the handle, pulled it down, and threw the bag in while calling out loudly, “I love you.”

To his utter shock, she replied from the darkness of the box, “I’m in here!”

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.

From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).

She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.

She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com

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Spotlight: A Little Wilder by Serena Bell

(Wilder Adventures, #4)
Publication date: July 19th 2022
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

What happened in Vegas? Definitely didn’t stay in Vegas.

Gabe’s the oldest. Brody’s the bad boy. Clark’s the strong, silent warrior. Amanda’s the girl. And Easton—well, Easton’s the panty melter.

I’m Kane.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a bad job. But usually, I’m not the one people are talking about.

That’s about to change. Because the woman I had a smoking hot one-night stand with in Vegas? The one I should have stayed far, far away from, since women like her are my kryptonite?

She’s the same woman my brother just hired to redesign his fancy new glamping RVs.

I haven’t seen her since Vegas, but the instant I lay eyes on her, I can tell my quiet role as the boy-next-door brother is about to change.

She’s pregnant.

And it’s mine.

Excerpt

There’s a knock on Bernadette’s door. 

It pulls me out of deep concentration on the trailer project and sends a small thrill of anticipation up my spine.

Kane. 

It’s gotta be Kane. It’s not like I get visitors. 

I haul myself off the couch—an increasingly challenging undertaking. Even though I know it has to be him, I peep out. One of the awesome mods on Bernadette, courtesy of her previous owner, is a peephole, which is super useful when you’re a single woman on the road alone. 

And even though I know it has to be him, I still feel a surge of pleased surprise when I see his face.

“Delivery,” he says, holding out a big, round Tupperware… cake holder?  “Boston cream pie.” 

Holy shit, he found it.   

I yank open the door and have to stop myself from snatching the cake out of his hands. Or throwing my arms around him and hugging the crap out of him. “Where did you find it?”

“I—”

He stops, appearing to think better of whatever he was about to say, but it’s too late. I know where that sentence was going. 

“You made it?” 

“Amanda helped,” he says, like that’s going to take anything away from a six-foot-something built-like-a-God man who bakes Boston cream pies.  

“Aaaaahhhh!” I cry, overcome. “You are a saint and a genius.” 

He tries to bite back a smile. “I think you’re overstating things a little.” 

“No,” I say, shaking my head. I have been fantasizing about yellow custard, soft yellow cake, and chocolate ganache nonstop since before I knew Kane had planted this baby in me. “Come in. You have to have some, too.”

“It’s all for you,” he says. “I wouldn’t take any of your special treat. Your presentation was fantastic. You deserve all the cake.” 

This guy. I swear. He was too much in Vegas, when all I knew about him was that he asked real questions and knew how to use his body for both good and evil. Now… 

“Well, come in anyway.” 

He hesitates again, then follows me in, setting the cake on the counter. I wash my hands and take two small plates down from the cabinets. I grab two forks from the utensil drawer and two mugs from the overhead hooks. “I don’t have coffee—” I gesture at my belly, “—but I have tea, milk, or water.” 

Buy on Amazon

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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