Cover Reveal: Alice Adrift by Susan Bacon

Publication date: November 4th 2025

Genres: Contemporary, Women’s Fiction

Alice Adrift is an intimate human drama about loss and recovery, coupling and uncoupling, and a child caught in the turmoil.

It’s the 1990s. The Fishers—Alice, David and their two sons, Tobias and Jeremiah—live in the upper Northwest quadrant of Washington DC, home to an urbane mix of journalists, academics and professionals. Alice is a composer and music professor. Her husband is an architect of some note. The economy is booming. Life is good. But their seemingly perfect existence is shattered when Jeremiah, their youngest, dies suddenly of an unidentifiable illness.

In the years that follow, Alice and David seem to lose their bearings. When Toby appears to be struggling, they move him to an alternative school with a baffling curriculum (“They don’t even teach reading, Mom”) and a peculiar set of rules (“Absolutely no television!”). Alice doesn’t seem to fit in, but David is drawn to everything about the place including, Alice eventually realizes, one of Toby’s teachers, the striking woman with the long, tangled red hair.

Not long after David moves out of the house, a group of young men move in next door, ingratiating themselves to Alice. She finds herself attracted to one of them, which sets her further off-kilter. How will she find her way back? How will Toby emerge from all this disruption? And what on earth will happen to David?

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About the Author

Susan is best-known for her award-winning mysteries — THE HISTORY TEACHER and its sequel THE ART COLLECTOR. Her latest novel, ALICE ADRIFT, is a bit of a departure. An intimate human drama about loss and recovery, coupling and uncoupling, and a child caught in the turmoil, it is slated for release on November 4, 2025. 

A graduate of Barnard College with a degree in history, Susan is a former journalist, copywriter and ghostwriter whose credits include an international best seller. She grew up in Wilmington, Delaware and has lived in New York City, Washington, DC, and Memphis, Tennessee, all of which serve as settings for her novels.

Connect:

https://www.facebook.com/PorterStreetPress

https://www.instagram.com/susanbacon.author/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19505092.Susan_Bacon

https://www.susanbacon.com/

Spotlight: Hooking Up With a Rockstar by Kitt Henley

(Soulmates, #2)

Publication date: October 28th 2025

Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

An opposites-attract friends-to-lovers romance featuring a charming, swoon-worthy rockstar hero who falls first, a fiercely independent club-manager heroine, a hometown show, a secret song, and one very compromising position.

I told him it was just a hookup. I don’t think he bought it.

JUNE: Anthony’s always been a wild good time, but even before his band got famous, I knew better than to let myself bask in the glow of that 1,000-watt smile.

He makes me feel things I don’t ever want to feel. For anyone.

So when his band went on tour halfway across the world, forgetting him was the goal, but his postcards from the road didn’t make it any easier.

And now he’s back. Playing my club, looking every inch the rock god, and reminding me what it feels like to be with him.

Under him.

But I have a club to run, a boss breathing down my neck, and no room for distractions. This is my chance to prove myself, and unlike my mother, I’m not about to let some guy derail my life.

Three nights.
That’s all I have to survive without letting my guard down.
Without losing myself.
Without wanting him.


Soulmates: Two bands. Three shows. Four happily ever afters.
Hooking Up With a Rockstar is a complete romance novella with no cliffhanger. This story can be enjoyed as a standalone or read as the second book in the Soulmates interwoven rockstar romance series.

Excerpt

“How are you doing on your part of the list so far?” I ask, situating myself on the barstool directly across from June.

“Doing good.” Her eyelashes flutter a little. She’s working hard to keep her attention on the bottles she’s probably pretending to count, but her eyes keep darting in my direction. “Everything’s ready to go for ticketing and admission, and the staff are all confirmed for tonight.”

“OK, fabulous. Sounds like the perfect time for the two of us to grab a bite to eat.”

“Oh. Thanks, but I’ll get something later.” She angles her body away even further.

She’s adorable.

June’s making me work for it, that’s for sure. She’s a tough nut to crack, so I wasn’t expecting her to toss her panties at me or anything, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping she’d be a little more receptive. But that’s OK. We’ve got three whole days together, and this time I’m playing the long game.

“My treat.” I slide over one stool and inch myself back into her line of sight. “How about a quick sandwich?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” She finally turns to face me, looking skeptical.

“Come on, Chicago,” I tease, lowering my voice. “What. Are you afraid I’m gonna put the moves on you?”

She rolls her eyes. “I freaking know you will.”

“No. This is a professional lunch outing.”

“Uh-huh. Sure it is.” She shakes her head, smiling. “Yeah, all right. But just a quick bite.”

“Absolutely.”

She reaches for her coat and we step outside. I swear it’s even colder than it was this morning, and it takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the bright sun after spending all day in the club.

“We could grab barbecue sandwiches at that place around the corner,” June says.

“Actually, I heard there’s this great place a couple of blocks down. Follow me.”

The truth is I know exactly where we’re headed. It’s the diner where June and I used to go sometimes after closing up the bar.

The first time she asked if I wanted to get a bite to eat after work, I thought she was asking me out on a real date. We were sitting at that diner, facing each other across the table, when she first started telling me about all the different bands she was into. Eclectic stuff. She could appreciate things in the music that most people never even notice. That was when I realized she was someone special.

As we make our way down the sidewalk, I can’t help but feel giddy. It’s good to be walking through the city side by side with June again.

We round the corner and I slow down as we approach the restaurant.

“Oh, I see what you did here,” she says. “A trip down memory lane, huh? I recall being promised a quick sandwich.”

“But if you’ll remember, June, the service here is incredibly speedy,” I reassure her with a wink, and she rolls her eyes.

We score our usual cozy table by the window and put our sandwich orders in right away to speed things up.

June leans toward me, resting both hands at the edge of the table and giving me a little scowl as the server pours us each a cup of coffee.

“I can’t believe you brought me back here,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re hilarious. You know that?”

“It’s one of the things you love most about me.” I grin.

“That’s debatable.” She’s giving me one of those feisty June expressions that I’ve missed so much. 

“Well, you guys sure have been getting around this past year.”

“Oh, you’ve been paying attention?” I wink.

“I did receive thirty-eight postcards.” She gives me a sideways glare, and my heart does a flip-flop. She actually read my cards.

“Ahh, but who’s counting?” I tease.

“Right.” She nods slowly, but her cheeks flush pink.

I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “You know, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past year.”

“Yeah? About what?” She takes a sip of her coffee.

“About us, actually,” I say softly.

That must’ve caught her off guard because those dark eyes lock right on mine, and her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink.

“Oh.”

“Sorry. Is that weird?”

“No, I mean, it’s fine,” she says, dropping her voice a little. “It’s just—I’m worried we got our wires crossed somewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last year—when we hooked up—I didn’t mean for it to be anything more than one night.” She’s watching my eyes closely now.

“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” I say.

“I know. I really fucked that up. I should have been clear about what I was looking for from the start. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I shrug. “Nah, you’re OK. We didn’t make any promises that night.”

She gives me a little smile. “Well, thanks for saying that. But I shouldn’t have ghosted you. We’ve been friends a long time, and you deserve better.”

“OK. But I get it. It was intense, what happened between us.”

She stops mid-sip, almost choking on her coffee. “Err, umm—hmm? What do you mean?”

“The two of us. We’re something else together. I know you felt it too.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Her pupils dilate and her lips part a bit, the way they do when she’s turned on.

“It wasn’t just a hookup, June.” I let my tone drop down low, just the way she likes it. “No matter what you want to tell yourself.”

“Um, no, I’m pretty sure that’s what it was,” she tries, but her voice is breathless, and her hands are trembling. “Just…a hookup.”

“If you say so, Chicago,” I tease, giving her a wide smile.

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About the Author

Kitt Henley writes short, spicy contemporary romance with relatable characters, a touch of humor, and tons of heart. Never one to make it through a good romance (or cookie commercial) with dry eyes, Kitt's heartstrings are easy to pull on. When she played in rock bands and crunched numbers in the Seattle tech world, those waterworks weren't an asset, but after a friend suggested she try writing romance, everything clicked into place. From the moment she sat down to write her first novel, she knew she'd found her calling.

When she's not wrangling words in her tiny bedroom office, Kitt loves to spend time with her high school best friend (a.k.a. her rockstar husband) and their two ridiculously funny boys. She's still holding out hope for that family band someday, but in the meantime she'll happily settle for camping trips, board games, long walks with friends, and watching lots and lots of thrillers.

Connect:

https://kitthenley.com/

https://www.instagram.com/kitthenleyauthor/

https://www.facebook.com/kitthenleybooks/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kitt-henley

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/57470312.Kitt_Henley

Spotlight: The Sound of the Dark by Daniel Church

Fans of Catriona Ward and Stephen King will find plenty to enjoy in this biting horror novel where not all is what you see... or hear.

In 1983, experimental artist Tony Mathias began work on a new installation – it was to be a collage of visuals and sounds collected at an abandoned RAF base called Warden Fell. Various stories and rumours swirled around the place but Tony was interested only in the echoes of history. But soon after visiting the site to tape-record the sounds there, he returned to the caravan where he was staying with his family and killed his wife, his two children and then himself. Another dark twist in Warden Fell’s history?

But the past reaches out. Decades later Cally Darker, gets the chance to investigate the terrible story and perhaps even solve the mystery – a fantastic exclusive story for her true-crime podcast.Tony's actress sister Stella is desperate for the mystery to be solved before she dies will do all she can to help and passes on the tapes left behind by her brother. But before long, Cally realises that Warden Fell has a far older and darker story to tell. Be careful what you listen to…

Excerpt

Cally forced herself under the shower for two minutes and dragged a brush through her hair. Dressing or changing clothes seemed like huge, exhausting tasks on bad days like this, but she’d opted for minimal effort and maximum impact, donning a blue thong and the black silk cheongsam he’d bought her for her birthday. 

Again, she wasn’t proud of herself – a recurring theme in this relationship – but sex was near-enough all they had left in common; if it gave Cally a much-needed dopamine hit too, she wouldn’t complain. The outfit caught Iain’s attention, anyway, and improved his mood. They snuggled on the sofa while he told her about his day (in one ear, out the other,) and were necking passionately when the pizza arrived.

With dinner underway, she slipped out of the cheongsam to avoid getting pizza grease on the silk, which made Iain happier still. An early night looked increasingly on the cards, with all sins forgiven in the morning. Happy For Now, if not Happy Ever After.

But she’d spent all day researching and making notes, and once Cally fixated on a subject, she couldn’t stop herself talking about it. That’d been true ever since childhood, much to Dad’s amusement and her mother’s annoyance. 

“Think I’ve got my next podcast sorted,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” said Iain. 

The living room grew cold.

You and your big mouth, Cally thought miserably. To Iain, the podcast was just a peculiar hobby, and an unhealthy one at that. But she’d gone and said it now. Maybe she could always things back; she was fairly sure her current state of undress could have distracted Iain from anything short of his parents’ severed heads on pikes. “Yeah,” she said. “That email I got before? The links I was looking at?”

Iain put his half-eaten slice of pizza down. “Oh. Yeah.”

“It’s a murder case from the ‘80s, but no one else has written about it. I’d never even heard of it, but it’s really interesting.”

“Yeah?” Iain took a sip of beer.

“This guy, Tony Mathias. He was an artist. Pretty successful, one to watch and all that. And then, out of the blue, he had this massive psychotic break. Killed his whole family, set fire to his caravan and shot himself.”

Caravan?”

Cally tried not to laugh at how that was what had stood out most for Iain. “Yeah.”

“Thought he was successful?”

“He’d won awards.”

“Right, so no money.”

“Maybe he liked living in a caravan.”

“I suppose.” Iain’s tone suggested he’d rather attach giant leeches to his genitals. “What’s so interesting, though? Some batty artist type flids out and kills everyone? Big whoop.”

“Yeah, but why did he go mad?”

“He was an artist, wasn’t he?” Iain reached for his pizza slice. “Probably on drugs.”

“He hadn’t had any trouble before. No sign of anything wrong.”

“Apart from being an artist,” Iain mumbled through a mouthful of pepperoni and onion.

“Ha-ha. Seriously, he did okay. Married, kids. Everyone who knew them said how nice they were, how happy. And then, 9th June 1983, he took a rifle and shot his wife. His kids ran out of the caravan. He shot them both, right in front of the next-door neighbour, then went back inside and–” 

“Shot himself.” Iain grimaced.

“Set it on fire first.”

“Glad we didn’t order the BBQ wings.”

That was quite witty for Iain. “Not everything burned, though,” said Cally. “He’d been writing all over his bedroom walls. Most of it was gone, except two words, written over and over again. World’s End.”

“So he thought it was Judgement Day?”

“This was the ‘80s, dude. The Cold War? Have you listened to half the pop music from then? Besides, 9th June 1983 was General Election night. Maggie Thatcher won a second term by a landslide. Nothing short of World War Three was keeping that off the front page. I suppose one horrible tragedy was enough.”

“She did a lot of good for the country,” mumbled Iain, leaving Cally wondering how she could have ever thought dating him a good idea. Luckily all around, Iain was too busy eyeing the rest of her to notice her expression.

“Point is, there was no history of mental illness, nothing to indicate Tony Mathias was a danger to anyone. Something must have set him off. If I can find out what, I might have something interesting.”

“Not my cup of tea,” said Iain. “Horses for courses, though, I suppose.” He reached out and cupped her breast. “How about dessert?”

*

Afterward they snuggled contentedly for a few minutes before Iain rolled over, checked his alarm was set for the morning and began to snore. 

Probably for the best; pillow talk would only have exposed the gaps between them again. Her situation was still the same: stay here, or run home to Daddy. Wherever she went, there was neither purpose nor direction in her life. Except, perhaps, in one area.

Cally slid out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown, then took her laptop back downstairs.

Buy on Amazon | Bookshop.org

About the Author

Daniel Church grew up in Manchester, and he still lives in the North of England. His first novel, THE HOLLOWS, was short-listed for the 2023 British Fantasy Society’s Horror Novel of the Year, and THE RAVENING was published in September 2024. 

Spotlight: Oathbreaker by Kat Mizera and Elise Faber

Release Date: October 27

She was never supposed to be mine.
Walking away was the only acceptable decision.

It was just one night. Two lonely souls finding solace in the one place we shouldn’t have—my bed.

I thought once would be enough, but leaving her is my biggest—maybe my only—regret.

Now, I’m back and seeing the results of that night is killing me.

I’ll make it up to her. I have to. Because I’ve never loved anyone else.

Because I’d rather die than break her heart a second time.

But when duty calls, I swore an oath to listen.

And I know…

There will be no coming back this time.

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Meet Kat Mizera

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Kat Mizera was born in Miami Beach with a healthy dose of Wanderlust. She's lived from coast to coast, and everywhere in between, but home is wherever her family is. A devoted mom and wife to her wonderful and supportive husband (Kevin) and two amazing boys (Nick and Max), Kat loves to travel the globe with her adventurous, hockey loving family. Greece is at the top of that list. She hopes to one day retire there, spending her days writing books on the beach.

Kat is former freelance sports writer who now writes steamy hockey romance about her favorite fictional teams, the Las Vegas Sidewinders and the Lauderdale Knights. The library of novels she's penned also include sexy contemporary stories about baseball stars, alpha sex club owners, bodyguards, rock stars, and royalty. Regardless of genre, her books about bad boys with hearts of gold will steal your breath, rock your world and melt your heart.

To find out about Kat Mizera’s upcoming releases and giveaways, sign up for her newsletter here

For more information on Kat Mizera and her books visit: https://katmizera.com/

Connect with Kat Mizera: https://katmizera.com/pages/contact-kat

Meet Elise Faber

USA TODAY bestselling author, Elise Faber, loves chocolate, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team—the Sharks!—are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise changes her hair color more often than some people change their socks, loves sparkly things, and is the mom to two exuberant boys. She lives in Northern California. 

To find out about Elise Faber’s  upcoming releases and giveaways, sign up for her newsletter here

For more information on Elise Faber and her books visit: https://www.elisefaber.com/

Connect with Elise Faber: https://www.elisefaber.com/contact

Spotlight: Karl Marx and the Lost California Manifesto by Scott D Carlson

Part adventure, part satire, and wholly original, Karl Marx and the Lost California Manifesto by Scott D. Carlson explores the Gold Rush through the eyes of one of history’s most unlikely dreamers.

Facing financial ruin and imprisonment in London, Karl Marx makes a desperate leap westward in 1849, bound for California’s gold fields. There he meets Sixto, a resourceful teenager raised by padres in a mission, whose quick wit and courage earn Marx’s respect. Together they head into the Sierra Nevada in search of gold, pursued by bumbling Prussian agents determined to retrieve Marx’s lost Manifesto. Along the way, they encounter fortune seekers, Miwok villagers, and the infamous outlaw Joaquin Murrieta. As they navigate greed, prejudice, and absurdity, Marx begins to see how the communal spirit of California’s frontier challenges his own revolutionary ideals. Through Sixto’s warm and sardonic voice, the story unfolds as both a picaresque romp and a meditation on belonging and belief.

Excerpt

From Lt. Junger and Lt. Fischel to King Frederick William IV

May 14, 1849

To: His Excellency King of Prussia Frederick William IV

Re: Herr Karl Marx

To our most high King, the greatest sovereign in all of Europe—Ja in all the world! Your servants have cleverly followed, if we do humbly say so ourselves, Herr Marx and his Junge companion to this settlement called Sacramento, in the hinterland of California. It is a place even more remote and Scheiß-ridden than San Francisco. A flood came and turned the entire settlement into one great cesspool of Scheiß, mud, offal, garbage, and dead beasts. There are no wonderful water closets here like those your Majesty has at Sanssouci—in fact, there are no water closets at all. Always the whole settlement smells like the hind end of a peasant horse.

Expertly disguised as miners from Chili, we left San Francisco on the same steamboat as did Marx, the Junge, and their donkey. Because of our Chilian dress, we met on the boat the hostility of some drunken Americans, who insisted we must keep first to the aft, then to the forward part of the boat. This conformed perfectly with our plan, as we could then stay close to Marx and his accomplice.

In the morning, we witnessed Herr Marx engage in argument with some of the passengers and then, as seems to be his habit, with the boat captain. Marx cannot tolerate anyone other than himself being the “captain.” As is also his habit of late, he came out on the losing end. He then ordered the boat captain to deliver him and the Junge to the bank of the river. The captain resisted but finally gave in, no doubt thinking it best just to be rid of Marx, and abruptly deposited them on a spit of sand in the river channel.

Soon after, we asked the captain to bank the boat and we disembarked. After fighting our way through the bulrushes, we came out at a point from which we saw Marx and the Junge setting off overland. On the boat, Marx had been engaging in some very odd gymnastics, and he continued these as they set off toward the east. They, and we, did not know that they were headed in the direction of a native village, which they eventually entered.

From a distance we waited as the subversives conducted in the village what we believe to be benign business with an American woodsman. After seeing them leave, we entered the village. Through the woodsman there, we learned that the natives had been entertained by Marx, and that they expected us to perform for them too. Wanting to please, your servants proudly represented the Prussian nation by performing a very creditable Lauschaer Galopp, for which we received a standing ovation. The woodsman also revealed to us Marx’s probable ultimate destination in the mountains beyond Sacramento. As much as we then wanted to continue with our surveillance, our native hosts said we must, before leaving, eat a local dish of mashed boiled acorns garnished with bits of tuberous material. We acceded, unfortunately, as almost immediately we were both befallen with, we are sorry to offend your Excellency, explosiver Durchfall, which disabled us for the rest of the day and that night.

However, the next day, we were able to muster the strength to set off for this sorry settlement that makes a Latvian hamlet seem like Baden-Baden. Here ensued some temporary trouble from which we will soon extricate ourselves and again be hot on the trail of Herr Marx, to wit: We eventually located Marx and the Junge in one of the several houses of drink and gambling—an establishment charmingly referred to locally as a “café chantant.” This house also featured music provided by a French woman and an American piano player who had to be, we are sure, working together for the first time. The music was not to our taste, nor was the very bad beer—how we greatly miss the beloved brews of home! The French woman was an apparent lady of the night posing as a mumbling chanteuse. The American played in the style of a Lutheran church organist, and the mismatch resulted in loud catcalls from the surly patrons.

We followed Marx and companion to a gambling table with the intent that we might be able to bankrupt him, but quickly discovered that the table, run by a Mexican card dealer, was exclusively for speakers of Spanish. The confusion caused by this language obstacle was compounded by the unfamiliar game being played, and further so by having to endure the awful music. Oh how we miss the strain of accordions playing the Hohenfriedberger Marsch in a Biergarten! In short, we have been unusually frugal with your Excellency’s money, but we risked an imprudently large bet in the game and lost. Conversely, Marx, aided by the Spanish-speaking Junge, bet against long odds with what we believe was one of his last coins—and won.

Apparently feeling flush, Herr Marx proceeded to drink several glasses of the lousy beer. Then, in a break in the chanteuse’s “music,” and presumably inspired by her nationality, Marx stood upon a table and began singing the revolutionary Marseillaise anthem. We were alert that this might be a signal or coded message to other revolutionaries in and around the “chantant,” but the catcalls grew very loud and Herr Marx was struck by bottles thrown by a table of Australians. One of the Australians then turned his attention to us. He wanted to know “what the hell you’re gawkin’ at” and wrongly accused us of Sodomitic desires. His compatriots soon joined in abusing us. We could not speak openly without giving away our identities to Marx. And we are not French puffs “de crème.” One thing led to another, and we found ourselves outside in a fistfight with the Australians. We fought bravely but were outnumbered and were pitched into a mudhole caused by the recent flooding. To add insult to injury, the Australians exposed us to several lewd gestures which were of a nature unlike any we have ever seen, even in a Prussian enlisted men’s barracks. However, the Australians received a comeuppance of sorts as they—and we, too, unfortunately—were arrested by constables and arraigned by the local justice of the peace, who apparently makes his living by taxing foreigners with outrageous fines, nonpayment of which results in confinement. We had only a small sum left after the gambling table and thus are enduring an unpleasant stay in the “hoosegow” with the Australians but expect to be released shortly.

Your Excellency may be assured that despite losing Herr Marx’s trail for a short time, we are confident we will be able to find him, as we know of his intended destination. However, we regret to report that we are very short of funds. Our accidental gambling loss has drained our “treasury,” so to speak—please send money, your Highness! You may send it to Sacramento, in care of our cover names, “Hozay and Horhay the Chilians.”

We thank you profusely and remain deeply dedicated to your service.

Your servants,

Lt. Ernst Junger

Lt. Franz Fischel

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About the Author

Scott D. Carlson writes with humor, irony, and compassion. His varied background—as lawyer, teacher, cook, and storyteller—brings authenticity and depth to his work. He holds an MA in Creative Writing from New York University and lives in the San Francisco Bay Area, where California’s layered history continues to spark his imagination. Learn more on his website.

Spotlight: Julia Song Is Undateable by Susan Lee

CEO seeks dating coach

Julia Song, CEO of Starlight Cosmetics, is at the height of her career. Then why does she feel like such a failure? Maybe because she’s thirty and single, with a terrible track record at dating. And in the eyes of her Korean family, that is just unacceptable. It never really bothered her—that is until her beloved grandmother drops the bomb that she is sick and her dying wish is for Julia to get married. Impossible. So in a moment of weakness, Julia asks her family for help. Set her up on three dates to help her find The One. But it will never work—Julia is undateable. If only there was a coach for that…

Tae Kim knows about the weight of familial expectation. He’s currently unemployed, living in his parents’ basement to care for his ill father. Sure, he’s become somewhat of a fix-it man for the Korean community around town, but that’s not a real job. And the pressure to get his life together is getting to be too much. So when the Julia Song—his childhood crush—asks for his help, it may be just the distraction he needs. He’ll do whatever it takes, even coach her for these three dates. Problem is, the more time they spend together and the closer they get, the more Tae wonders if anyone is good enough for Julia…including him.

Excerpt

BRIBE BAGS

JULIA SONG HATED being the center of attention.

So standing here at the head of the conference table, expect-ant eyes of Very Important People all on her, was pretty much torture.

But Julia was the CEO of Starlight Cosmetics, this company was her baby, these VIPs the executives she hired to help grow the business. And the news she had to share with them was monumental.

She scanned her memory for the advice from her executive coach for this kind of situation. The only thing she could remember was, contrary to everything she’d ever been told before in her life, never try to picture your audience naked. It would make the nerves even worse.

And, of course, now that’s all Julia could think of.

She closed her eyes for a moment to clear her mind of all the unfortunate images fighting to run through her head.

What was that one thing her coach told her?

Squeeze your butt cheeks to hold the plank. Wait, no, that was her abs coach.

If the recipe calls for garlic, double it. Wrong again. That was her cooking coach.

Oh, screw it. What was the use of having all these people to help Julia better herself when she couldn’t call upon the advice when needed?

She cleared her throat and decided to wing it.

“I know you’re all busy, so I’ll make this quick. Look, it’s not how I wanted to do this . . .”

Her dream, rather, was to one day point at each of them and tell them an exorbitant dollar amount for a bonus. Enough money for them to buy new homes in the hills or on the beach, whichever they preferred.

“Wait—are you firing us?” someone cried out from the other end of the table.

Julia’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “What? No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Always start with something personal and positive to get people excited about what you’re going to say. Oh yeah, that’s the brilliant advice her coach had mentioned.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so ominous.” Julia quickly backtracked. “It’s just that, well, at the risk of get-ting too squishy in a work meeting, I really wanted to thank you all for taking a chance on me way back when all of this was just an idea in my head.”

Julia swallowed the emotion building in her throat as she looked around at the team she’d put together to lead this company. They were the ones who took her idea to merge the best in the Korean skincare market with the high demands of the US consumer and built what was now one of the fastest- growing organic, clean K- beauty brands in America.

“I just want to tell you how much I appreciate your hard work and loyalty. I don’t know that any of us anticipated this kind of success. But honestly, none of it would have happened without each and every one of you and your contribution. And now, I have some really great news. As you know, Starlight’s Lotus Bamboo Essence was selected for Allure’s Best of Beauty awards. Which was a dream come true for us. But it doesn’t end there.”

Julia inserted the dramatic pause her public speaking coach had encouraged her to use. The looks of anticipation around the room fueled her excitement.

“I’m thrilled to share that the same Lotus Bamboo Essence has also been selected as one of this year’s Oprah’s Favorite Things!”

There was a silent pause of shock, followed by an eruption of applause and cheers, high fives, and hugs shared around the table.

“We’ll need to reforecast sales projections. We’re gonna blow up with the exposure . . .”

“We’re gonna have to update a comms plan . . .”

“We have to think of how we add this to the packaging design . . .”

“We need to make sure the supply chain can handle the increased distribution . . .”

“Oprah still has major influence on Gen X consumer spending. It’s a big win for a product . . .”

Yup, that was her team  .  .  . no- nonsense, capable, loyal, honest . . . and the hardest- working, most talented people in the industry. And they were all business, just like her.

Her chest swelled as she watched them leave to get back to work, patting each other on the back as they walked out, taking the noise with them.

Julia started this company at only twenty- six years old. She’d disappointed her parents by changing her major from pre- med to business administration. She lived off ramen and PB&J sandwiches for a good year just to scrape by as she worked tirelessly to research the hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms. And she stomached the start- up community’s boys’ club as she tried to secure funding for the company.

And four short years later, they were on the verge of something huge. Hard work and dedication had brought them to this level of success. So yeah, she was proud of them, proud of herself. And at only thirty, she was finally in a position financially to take care of her family without worry.

When the last person left her office, Julia turned to look out the windows, the hustle and bustle of Santa Monica ten floors below. She took a deep breath.

“That’s right, motherfuckers,” she screamed, while pumping her fist. She shook her hips back and forth, adding in some aggressive hair throws and, why the heck not, followed it with a body roll. “Oh yeah, uh- huh . . .”

“Oh dear, that’s something I’m not likely going to forget seeing.”

Record scratch.

Julia halted her celebratory dance and quickly patted down her hair, trying to tuck her I- knew- I’d- regret-these bangs behind her ear as her assistant, Annette, entered the office.

“Unlike what your schedule says on paper, you’ve only actually attended that hot yoga class once. Should you really be try-ing to move your body like that?” Annette asked. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“You’re fired.”

Annette passed her the cup of black coffee in the Morning Person mug that she knew was a lie, along with a multivitamin and a probiotic. Breakfast of champions.

“Just remember that I know where the bodies are hidden. Oh, and I have those pictures of you from that one holiday party . . .” 

“Okay, fine, you can stay,” Julia conceded. 

“Is it a good time to ask for a raise?”

Julia tried to shoot Annette a glare but couldn’t keep back the smile. It was a secret to no one that Annette was invaluable to the Starlight team, and most days she was the one bossing Julia around. Julia shook her head and took a seat at her desk. “Can you forward the O magazine email to the team so they know all the details?”

“You betcha,” Annette said. “Have you told your folks yet?” 

“No, not yet. I don’t think they’d even understand what a big deal this is.”

“Make sure to tell them.” Annette wasn’t only her assistant, she was also her work- mother as well. “Oh, and here is the updated short list of investors we might want to approach for global expansion. One bad meeting doesn’t have to halt progress.”

One bad meeting was an understatement. The last time Julia had met with an investment firm for an informational meeting, they kept asking about her significant other, driving home that they were a family- run business built on traditional values. They looked at her as young and inexperienced not because of her age— she knew plenty of male CEOs who were thirty— but because she wasn’t married with children. In their eyes, Julia wasn’t reliable because she wasn’t settled . . . settled down, that is.

Her accomplishments, alone, weren’t enough.

I’ll show them, she thought to herself as she gritted her teeth. Julia grabbed the list from Annette with a little bit more force than necessary and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Hey.” Annette softened her voice like she so rarely ever did. The one word in that tone made Julia surprisingly emotional. “It’s a good day, boss lady. You should be proud.” She patted Julia on the shoulder before walking back to her desk just outside Julia’s office.

Excerpted from JULIA SONG IS UNDATEABLE by Susan Lee. Copyright © 2025 by Susan Lee. Published by Canary Street Press, an imprint of HarperCollins.

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About the Author

Susan Lee is the author of the critically acclaimed and reader favorite young adult romantic comedies SEOULMATES and THE NAME DROP. Her work has been featured in national outlets such as Buzzfeed, NPR, and Pop Sugar. Kirkus Reviews calls Susan’s voice “honest, fresh and thoughtful”. A graduate of UC San Diego, Susan built a career as an HR executive at some of today’s hottest companies, until she realized that writing stories was a more impactful and powerful form of resistance and change. 

Now she channels her energy into writing Happily Ever Afters for those historically underrepresented in Romance. When she is not writing (or painfully procrastinating from writing), Susan can be found down the rabbit holes of her many obsessions including listening to Kpop, binge watching K-dramas, collecting sneakers, building mechanical keyboards, and obsessing over her two adorable, but ill-behaved chihuahuas.

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