From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new, STANDALONE novel…
ABBY:
I’m falling for the father of the baby I’m carrying.
The problem is: it’s not my baby.
And the broody widower is not looking for a long-term partner.
As a surrogate, the deal was that I’d only be in England long enough to give birth.
At first, the man seemed as pretentious as his name: Sigmund Benedictus.
He and I butted heads.
Sig challenged my intentions, accused me of just wanting to do this for the money.
Gradually, he learned to trust me.
He even became protective.
Over time, our heated animosity turned into fiery chemistry.
I was falling in love with him.
But my time here had a limit.
I needed to protect my heart from the devastatingly gorgeous older man who’d end up breaking it.
SIG:
When my in-laws told me they wanted to use my dead wife’s eggs to conceive a grandchild, I wasn’t immediately on board.
They swore that on her deathbed Britney told them it was what she wanted—but only if I fathered the baby. Her parents insisted they would be the ones to raise it.
Against my better judgment, I agreed.
I vowed to keep my heart out of it, though.
I’d continue to pretend it wasn’t happening and live the empty, single life I’d become accustomed to the past five years since Britney died.
And despite the fact that a certain younger American named Abby Knickerbocker had awakened things inside me that I thought were long dead…
I most certainly wouldn’t fall in love with the surrogate.
My phone rang, and I looked down to find it was Lourdes, a woman I’d hung out with over a year ago. She’d been texting me lately to get together, and I’d been ignoring her messages. I silenced the ringer.
“Who was that?” Abby asked.
“Someone named—none of your business.”
“A woman? Is that why you’re in such a rush to get back to London?”
“Trust me, I haven’t met anyone worth rushing anywhere for.”
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Picky.”
I rolled over a bit to face her, resting my chin on my hand. “You think it’s odd to be selective?”
“I don’t think you’re being selective. I think you’re closed off to everyone. There’s a difference.”
“You seem to have me pegged, but what about you? Why are you single?”
“I had a bad experience, as I think I’ve mentioned, and haven’t felt like having my heart toyed with again.”
“How long ago was that? The guy who broke up with you…”
“Nearly three years now.”
“But you’ve dated since that breakup.”
“Yeah. There’ve been a few brief…”
“Hookups?” I arched a brow.
“I guess I can admit that now that you’re not actively assessing my character.”
“Why would I judge you for that? Sex is natural—necessary for survival, if you ask me.”
“You just don’t want to have anything to do with the women after.”
Unable to deny it, I shrugged. “There haven’t been that many women since Britney. At least nothing compared to when I was younger. Most of the time, I meet someone and decide not to go through with anything. But of the encounters I have had, yeah, it’s never mattered whether I saw them again.”
“What was different about Britney? I mean, when you met her? How did you know she was the one?”
My chest constricted. “I’d love to be able to give you a less cliché answer—because I hate clichés—but I just knew. After about an hour together, I never wanted to be apart from her.”
“Fair enough. They say that’s what happens sometimes. You just know.”
“You’ve never experienced that?”
“Nope.” Abby shook her head. “Still waiting for it to happen to me.” She smiled. “Anyway, for the record, I don’t just hook up with people randomly, like some people.” She elbowed me. “I have to know them first.”
“Knowing you, Abby, I can’t imagine you not asking someone a million questions before you sleep with them.”
“Well, yeah. I need to know who I’m dealing with. I’m not going to waste my time with anyone who’s not a good person—even if I’m wildly attracted to them.”
“Sometimes less is more,” I mumbled.
“This from the man who interrogated me the first time he met me.”
“Well, I need to know a bit more about someone who’s going to be carrying my child than I would someone I’m merely going to…”
“F*ck?” She finished my sentence.
The word on her tongue gave me an unwanted thrill. I wouldn’t have minded hearing her say it a few more times, which probably meant I needed my head checked.
“You wanna go?” she asked.
Somehow I’d forgotten my urgency to leave. I’d become pretty comfortable in this spot on the hay. It wasn’t about the hay at all, though, was it?
“Well, now you’ve made me lazy. You’re a bad influence, Knickerbocker.”
She leaned her head on her hand. “Why don’t you just sleep at the inn tonight? Lavinia loves your company.”
“She’ll be conked out by the time we get back there, but I suppose you have a point. At this hour, I might as well just drive into London with you in the morning.”
“You keep work clothes at The Bainbridge, right?”
“Yes. I have everything I need in my room.” I looked out through the barn door. It was now completely nightfall. “Now that it’s dark, you need to be careful driving back.”
“You’ll be behind me anyway, in case I run into trouble, right?”
“Well, you won’t find me driving in front of you ever again,” I teased.
“Good one.” She laughed as she stood and brushed off her dress. “Can you turn around for a minute?”
I narrowed my eyes but did as she asked. “Okay…why am I doing this?”
A few seconds passed. “All good now.”
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“You promise not to make fun of me?”
“No. But tell me anyway.”
“I had a piece of hay stuck in my underwear.” She flashed a goofy smile.
And then…I laughed for what felt like the first time in years.
AUTHOR BIO
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over forty books. Her novels have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
“Were you jealous that I was out with another woman?”
Devyn looked away. “No.”
My lip twitched. “No, huh?”
“I wasn’t jealous.”
It was difficult to keep a straight face, because she was so clearly full of sh$t. But…if she wasn’t jealous, a few details wouldn’t bother her, right?
I sipped my wine and watched Devyn’s face. “Tarryn asked if I wanted to take her back to my place.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s nice.”
“We’ve had sex before. So I don’t think she wanted to sit on the couch and watch TV.”
Devyn’s face flushed red.
I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see her get pissed—admit she was damn jealous.
“Yeah, that Tarryn’s a real wild woman in bed. Last time she visited, we broke a lamp. Knocked it right off the end table from the bed bouncing around so much.”
I watched the muscle flex in her cheek, the same cheek that was turning a lovely shade of crimson. Yet she still wouldn’t look at me.
“Devyn?”
Her lips pursed as she stared straight ahead.
“Devyn?” I said louder.
“What?”
“Look at me.”
Her head whipped to face me, and she stared with daggers in her eyes.
I smiled. “It wouldn’t bother you if I…fu¢ked Tarryn?”
That did it.
She broke.
But she didn’t yell at me like I expected.
Not at all.
Instead, she smashed her lips against mine.
It caught me so off guard that I took a few seconds to catch up. By the time I did, Devyn was hoisting herself over, climbing me like a freaking tree.
Fu¢k yeah.
This.
This was the chemistry we’d had from the very start.
I grabbed her a$s with one hand, lifting her higher, and guided her legs around my waist, so lost in the moment that nothing existed in the world except this kiss.
Which was probably why I didn’t hear the door open…
Rule number one for having a one-night stand: Don’t fall for the girl.
After a lengthy dating slump, I finally met someone who sparked my interest.
Well, first the sparks flew when we argued. Later in the evening those sparks ignited into something more.
I was drawn to Devyn, in a way I hadn’t felt in a really long time.
Needless to say, I was disappointed when she abruptly left after our amazing night together.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But she hadn’t even given me her number.
In a city with eight-million people, I figured I’d never see Devyn again.
So imagine my surprise when I knocked on the door of an apartment in the building I lived in, and none other than my one-night stand stood on the other side.
If I thought Devyn didn’t want anything to do with me before, that was nothing compared to how she felt after finding out I was the landlord and she was about to be evicted…
And that was just the first surprise that would rock my world when it came to the mystery woman in apartment 410.
PENELOPE WARD
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
🖤 Don’t Forget Me Tomorrow First Chapters Sneak Peek 🖤
NYT Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson has the prologue AND first chapter of her upcoming brother’s best friend, single mom, small town romance, Don’t Forget Me Tomorrow, available to read now before release day on October 5th!
Prologue
I stared at her from across the room.
I could feel the walls closing in, and the need I’d had for her for my entire life growing stronger than it ever had. As if the two of us were hinged on this moment.
“Tell me I’m not too late. Tell me you still love me.” There was no stopping the plea.
Pain and desperation twisted through her expression. “Do you think I could ever stop loving you?”
The second she said it, I snapped, and I was across the room.
I crashed into her in a landslide of greed.
One hand dove into her hair and the other curled around the side of her neck as I crushed my mouth against hers.
Really kissing her for the first time.
Nothing had ever felt quite like kissing Dakota Cooper.
It was flames and heat and pure relief.
I sucked it in, imbibing the feeling as I devoured her mouth.
My chest nearly blew with the power of it. With the way my heart thrashed violently at my ribs. With the devotion that surged from the sacred place that had always been meant for her.
Except I’d always known why I couldn’t touch her. The reasons I’d built the walls between us.
Why she was only supposed to be my best friend’s little sister.
I’d crossed a line I wasn’t supposed to cross.
And I should have known I’d have to pay the penalty…
Chapter One – Ryder
What the fuck was she doing out here?
I slowed my motorcycle as I came upon a small white Volvo SUV pulled off to the side of the road, its hazards flashing through the dusky light as the summer day faded into grays.
My guts tangled in a knot of worry.
We were twenty miles outside of town, and the two-lane road was basically desolate except for a random car that whizzed by.
There was no mistaking that car. The rear window was a fucking billboard for the country market and café Dakota Cooper owned. It wasn’t like I blamed her for wanting to advertise, but I didn’t love that every fucking person in this town knew her name, either.
Where she worked and where she lived.
Not that there was a ton of privacy in a small town the size of Time River.
Everyone knew everyone.
And even if she lived in the middle of a bustling city, I was pretty sure she would have made a name for herself, anyway.
Hell, I figured every time she smiled at some unknowing fool, she carved herself into their memory.
Made her mark.
Unforgettable.
Protectiveness lined my insides in a sheet of steel.
It was nearing dark, and she was out here in the middle of nowhere.
By herself.
Any monster could roll up and catch her unaware.
Just like me.
My bike came to a rumbling stop ten feet behind her, and I killed the engine, tossed the kickstand, and swung off as I took stock of the situation.
Dakota was more than capable, but it still made me itch that she was on her knees in front of the back-passenger side tire, cranking at a handle on the jack to lift the rear-end of her car.
Looking like a goddamn vision beneath the rays of the setting sun.
I tamped the bolt of lust that stirred my dick, something I’d gotten really fucking good at over the years, and I edged toward her, my boots crunching on the loose gravel.
Awareness rippled through the twilight with my approach.
A flash of tension before it settled into something familiar and right.
“Funny, I didn’t see a call or text from you,” I said, words rough and carrying over a big truck that blew by, sending a flurry of debris scattering through the air.
Dakota glanced my way. The hint of a smile played through the shiny gloss coating her lush lips.
“That’s because I didn’t call you.” Her voice was a tease as she continued to crank the handle, though her breaths were coming hard with her exertion as the back-end of her Volvo slowly hoisted.
At least she had a blanket spread on the ground to protect her bare knees since she had on one of those sundresses she always chose to wear. Black fabric dotted with pink flowers that hugged every lush curve of her body.
I thought she might have been prescribed specific attire with the sole purpose of driving me out of my mind.
“You should have.”
“What, you think I’m not capable of fixing a flat tire?” Eyes the color of cinnamon and fire glinted back. “I seem to remember someone who insisted on making sure I knew where the jack and spare were when I bought this car.”
She arched a brow. Her cheeks were full and high, and the threat of that tiny dimple on the left side of her chin flickered and danced like temptation.
“Yeah, that was so you would know how to do it for when I’m not around, and here I am.” I lifted my tatted arms out to the sides.
Except if she had called an hour before, I wouldn’t have answered. I’d have been too wrapped up in the bullshit dragging me under. A millstone around my neck.
One day it would be the reason I drowned.
The thousand shades of brown in her eyes danced as she peered up at me, and she chuckled a low, throaty sound that shivered over my skin. “Of course, you are. Tell me you’re not stalking me?”
Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I let a smirk ride to my face. “You know it. It’s my job to know where you are at all times.”
“Is that so?” Her expression twisted in playful disbelief.
“Isn’t that what friends are for?”
“Friends? Hardly. It sounds to me you’re acting more like my overbearing brother. I swear, if it was up to the two of you, I’d never step foot outside by myself.”
Sounded like a solid plan.
“What are you doing out here, anyway?” I asked.
“I had to pop over to Costco in Poplar to grab some things for the café. What are you doing out here?” She tossed it back at me like she figured I’d been up to no good.
I had been, but I doubted it was what she was thinking.
Shame locked down my throat. As close as I was to Dakota, there would always be a wall. A place I couldn’t let her see. The fucking last thing in the world I wanted her to know about me.
My jaw clenched as I forced out the lie. “Just felt like feeling the wind on my face. My bike was calling to me.”
“A little hot for that, isn’t it?”
“Never too hot for me.” The smirk was back in full force.
With the history around us, I was thankful we’d gotten to this place.
Where we could be easy together.
Friends, even though it was fucking painful being this close to her most of the time.
But I would take her any way I could have her.
She scoffed and turned her attention back to the jack, clearly picking up on the innuendo I couldn’t help but slide into the conversation. Before I could let my brain spiral into depravity, I strode the rest of the way up to her.
It cast her in my shadow where I towered over her.
“Are you going to get up off your knees and let me help you, or are you just going to leave me standing here staring at you like a lazy prick?”
Leaning back, she swiped a bead of sweat that trickled from her hairline with her bare shoulder.
My fingers itched with the urge to reach out and trace the spot. But touching her was the last thing I could do. I wouldn’t taint her goodness with the sickness of me.
“Haven’t you learned yet that you don’t need to ride in like the cavalry, Ryder?”
“I already rode in, Cookie, so you might as well let me.”
I’d started calling her that years ago.
Now there was no way I could stop.
Pushing to standing, she waved at the flat tire. “Fine, if it makes you feel more like a man, then go for it.”
I shook my head at her. “Are you trying to bust my balls?”
“Someone needs to.” She punted me a grin.
I started to move to take her place, but she bent over to straighten the skirt of her dress.
It speared me to the spot.
Her tits were heavy and spilling out of the scooped neckline.
Her hips full and wide and perfectly hugged by the fabric.
Hair a warm brown that was streaked with honey, and she wore it in a high ponytail, the same way as she did most days, the lush locks wavy and draping over one shoulder.
I couldn’t help but envision wrapping my hand around it, tugging her head back, and devouring that lush mouth.
I swallowed hard, doing my best not to ogle my best friend’s baby sister.
Dude would fucking gut me if he had an inkling of an idea about the thoughts I had of her.
Too bad he was the least of my worries.
She moved a foot to the side, and I took her spot, reining that bullshit in.
I knew better.
Dakota was a friend. Like a sister to me. And I’d do well to remember it. Because I would never fucking drag her into the mess that was my life.
I cranked through the lug bolts, removed the tire, then was quick to replace it with the spare.
The whole time, I could feel her attention on me. Eyes tracing.
“You enjoying yourself, Cookie?” I canted a glance up at her. The last of the light caught her in its hazy rays.
Brown hair and mesmerizing eyes.
So goddamn pretty my stomach clutched.
Raking her teeth over her bottom lip, she tried to contain her laughter. “Guess I like you on your knees for me.”
A snort left my nose. I’d been for years, and she didn’t have a clue.
Giving a final tug at the lug nuts to make sure they were tight, I shifted to fully look up at her. “You need to make sure you’re not driving on this for long and take it in to get the original tire repaired or replaced.”
The cock of her head was nothing but a razzing challenge. “I am a capable adult, Ryder. I even own my own business.”
“Know that, Dakota.” The words were low.
“Then you can stop treating me like a little girl.” The barest flash of annoyance hit her expression.
If only that was the way I saw her.
“Go ahead and tell my brother while you’re at it,” she tacked on, rolling her eyes though there was affection woven through. “The two of you are ridiculous.”
“I just care about you, Dakota. About Kayden.” The admission came rough, and the sweat that suddenly slicked my skin didn’t have anything to do with the summer heat.
Thinking of Dakota’s son always got me that way. He was two, and the cutest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
I didn’t know if it was loyalty or jealousy that hit me hardest, not that I had any right to the last.
Softness radiated from her as she gazed down at me, that sweetness that was always lingering beneath the surface riding from her tongue. “You know I can’t call you every time some little thing goes wrong in my life and expect you to come running, Ryder. You’ve already done enough for me. Too much.”
Gratitude tinged with unease infiltrated her tone, her eyes dropping for a beat. I knew exactly where her mind had gone.
The money I’d given her to help start her business.
I released the jack and stood. There was nothing I could do but take her by the chin. More tender than I should. I towered over her, searching her face like there was a way I could get her to understand.
“That’s where you have it wrong, Dakota. You can. I expect you to call me. Whatever you need. And there is no such thing as too much when it comes to you. Do you understand?” The words left me like a tumble of stones. A plea and a demand.
Because I’d wanted to give her everything I had, but the only thing I had been able to do was give her the one gift that I could.
She viewed it as a debt. Like something she needed to repay.
She could never understand that what I’d given her was my heart.
Those pink lips parted, and fuck, greed twisted through me like a hurricane, cock pushing at my jeans like I might be able to possess the one woman I could never have.
“I don’t want you to waste your time on me,” she whispered. “I know you have your own life. Things you need to take care of.”
A puff of disbelief escaped between my lips. “You could never be a waste, Dakota Cooper.”
The air thickened. Growing dense and pushing in. Heavy and hot. A dragging pull between us.
My phone pinged in my pocket, and both of us jumped back like it was a warning going off that we were about to cross a line we couldn’t cross.
Blowing out a steadying sigh, I dug into my pocket and thumbed into my phone like it was the most important thing in the world, then my chest clutched with the reminder of why I could never get too close to Dakota.
Why she’d hate me if she knew.
Dare: Where the fuck are you? You’re late.
Swallowing around the barbs in my throat, I looked up at the woman who stood three feet away shifting on her feet.
Innocent and right and every good thing in this life.
I roughed a hand over the back of my neck, attention on my boots when I said, “I need to get going.”
I felt the weight of her nod. “Yeah, I need to get to my mom’s and pick up Kayden before they get worried.”
I hoisted up her flat tire, opened her trunk, and tossed it in. Dakota came to my side, her presence close to overwhelming as she placed the blanket she’d had on the ground on top of it.
For a second, we hovered in each other’s space. So close but where we could never belong.
Lost to a beat of greed.
The kind I could never give into.
I pushed the button to close the hatch then took a step toward my bike. “Be safe, Dakota.”
Cinnamon eyes watched me like they could see through to my sins. “You, too.”
Signed Paperbacks, Hardbacks, and Collector’s BundlesPRE-ORDER HERE
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, FALLING STARS, and REDEMPTION HILLS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone,DON’T FORGET ME TOMORROW, releasing October 5th!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletter https://geni.us/ALJacksonBookClubB or text “aljackson” to 33222 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new forbidden, enemies-to-lovers story…
It all started with an unexpected phone call.
Two years after my fiancé passed away in an accident, his father died suddenly, leaving Brad’s adult, special-needs brother with no one to care for him.
The next thing I knew, I was on a cross-country drive to New Hampshire where I’d be moving in to look after Scottie until I could get him into a group home.
The last thing I ever expected?
I wouldn’t be taking care of him alone.
Josh Mathers, my fiance’s best friend—who also happened to be my sworn enemy—insisted he was the better person for the job. He told me to go back to California, and I told him where he could stick that demand.
Our disdain for each other wasn’t anything new. It dated back to a text I’d accidentally read years ago.
We hated each other. But we both loved Scottie, so neither of us budged.
Now we were living together in a tiny house—with one available bedroom. Thank goodness it was only temporary.
Over time, I realized the broody jerk I thought I knew was different than I’d imagined.
I found myself slowly growing attached to someone I once considered the enemy…and growing attracted to him.
Sure, both of us were guilt-ridden over Brad. We were also two grown people with pent-up frustration toward one another—stuck in a cabin in the woods.
Josh sat at the table, casually having coffee as I walked into the house after my drive home from the salon. The smell of cigarettes emanated from him. He hadn’t smelled like that since the first day he arrived.
“Where’s Scottie?” I asked.
“In his room,” he answered without making eye contact.
I stated the obvious. “You smell like smoke.”
“Must be the firewood.” He brought his mug to his mouth.
“Bullsh*t. The pellet stove doesn’t emit any fumes.”
“Yeah. I caved and had one. Big deal.” He pointed toward the door. “I did it outside, though, while keeping an eye on Scottie through the window.”
“You’d been doing so well. What happened?”
He still wasn’t looking at me, and instead stared straight ahead. “Just human, I guess.”
Then something in front of him on the table caught my attention: pieces of ripped pages piled atop…my journal.
A rush of adrenaline shot through me. “Why do you have that?”
“It’s apparently your diary.”
“I’m quite aware of that.” My heart began to pound. “You were snooping in my room?”
He shot daggers at me. “Think, Carly. Of the two guys in this house, who is the one more likely to have been ransacking your room?”
“You were supposed to be watching him while I was at the salon,” I yelled.
“God forbid I take a piss in peace. Is it not bad enough that I’m showering with him now? Getting my balls tugged?”
I wanted to laugh, but this moment was far from funny.
“Scottie ripped those pages out?”
“The notebook is bright orange, like his iPad cover. Probably caught his attention. The drawer next to your bed was open, so he must have gone in there. I assume that’s where you kept it. Admittedly, I’d been letting him hang out in your room, but you sometimes do, too. I went to check on him, make sure he wasn’t doing anything bad, and found those pages strewn about.” A vein popped in his neck.
Josh was angry. Why? I should’ve been the angry one.
“Did you read it?”
“I only happened to see what was on the pages he ripped. I didn’t read anything else once I figured out what the hell it was.”
This is bad. Starting to sweat, I asked, “But how much did you see?”
He stood up from his seat and slowly approached me. With each step he took toward me, I took one back. When we could go no farther, he placed his arms on either side of me, leaning his hands against the wall. And I forgot how to breathe.
Fear. Arousal. Embarrassment. You name it, I was feeling it right now. Every emotion hit me at once.
His breath grazed my face. “How much did I actually see?” He paused. “Enough to know you think I’m an evil pig.”
Ugh. No. Now his anger made sense.
When he backed away, I walked over to the ripped pages on the table and sifted through them.
“It’s the last one, for reference,” he noted.
I read what I’d written the other night.
AUTHOR BIO
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling
author of contemporary romance.
She grew up
in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a
television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son,
and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two
million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author
of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen
languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
USA Today bestseller, Catherine Cowles, has a sneak peek of her upcoming fake dating, brother’s best friend, small town romance, Glimmers of You, coming August 1st.
“Why are your lips touching my sister?” Holt growled as he pushed to his feet. Lawson strode out from the kitchen. “This is a joke, right?” But Roan stayed sitting. He simply stared, a thoughtful expression on his face. Caden didn’t seem especially worried and showed no signs of releasing me as three pissed-off guys charged toward him. I, on the other hand, immediately started sweating. “Explain,” Nash growled. Caden rubbed a hand up and down my arm. “Gigi and I are dating.” Lawson’s jaw dropped open, then closed, then opened again. “You two hate each other.” Caden shrugged. “I think that was really just flirting.” Holt’s gaze narrowed on him. “Grae said she was going to murder you. Repeatedly.” My fingers twisted in Caden’s shirt as the panic set in. “Murder is apparently Gigi’s love language,” Caden explained. We were so screwed.
Writer of words. Drinker of Diet Cokes. Lover of all things cute and furry, especially her dog. Catherine has had her nose in a book since the time she could read and finally decided to write down some of her own stories. When she’s not writing she can be found exploring her home state of Oregon, listening to true crime podcasts, or searching for her next book boyfriend.
NYT Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson has the prologue AND first chapter of her upcoming single dad, enemies-to-lovers romance, Love Me Today, available to read now. Coming May 29th!
Prologue
Energy crackled through the dim-lit hall.
Tension binding the oxygen in attraction and need.
Every-fucking-thing I could no longer ignore as I stared at her where she hovered in front of her door.
“Caleb.” My name barely hit the air.
At the sound of it, I broke.
I crossed the space. No restraint left.
My hand dove into her hair at the side of her head, and I curled the other around her waist and tugged her against me.
We collided in a torrent of greed.
Mouths and tongues and spirits that no longer knew how to exist without the other.
We spun, gripping at each other, desperate to erase every inch of space as I kissed her.
Kissed her with a madness that burned me to the soul.
This woman who’d scored herself into the places I wasn’t supposed to let her go.
Because I knew what I brought into the lives of the people I cared about.
I knew the price they paid.
And I should have known what touching her would cost…
Chapter One – Paisley
Leave it to me to be late, but it couldn’t be helped.
Gathering the straps of the reusable grocery bags, I slung them over my shoulder and shifted my cell to my other ear as I hustled out the automatic doors of the small grocery store.
“You know I don’t have many details,” I told my bestie Dakota as I jogged toward my old truck in the parking lot, my boots thudding hard on the pavement. I pinned my phone between my ear and shoulder so I could dig my keys from my bag. “You know Ryder got me the gig. Some cousin he doesn’t know all that well has a little girl who got her first pony, and she needs to learn how to ride it. Easy peasy.”
Extra cash in my pocket. Exactly what I needed.
“Are you sure you don’t just want to come and work with me at the café? We’re slammed this morning. I could really use the extra help.”
A small chuckle got free. “Which is why you’re wasting your time on the phone with me?”
“Hello, bestie duties. I needed to get the details before you run off to some rando stranger’s house in the middle of nowhere. You haven’t even talked to the guy. You could end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Buried in a shallow grave. Locked in an attic or basement with some freak telling you that you’re his new pet.”
I could physically feel Dakota shudder through the phone. She was so dramatic.
“You really should stop listening to true crime podcasts before you go to bed at night. Your paranoia is getting out of control. Besides, this is Ryder’s cousin we’re talking about. He isn’t going to send me to some serial killer’s house.”
At least I hoped so because it was super odd this guy had only communicated through email, all formal and calling me Ms. Dae, referring to himself as Mr. Greyson as he gave me the precise time to show at his ranch.
What a weirdo.
As far as I knew, Ryder had spent summers with him growing up, but they hadn’t seen that much of each other as adults, and the mysterious Mr. Greyson had moved into Time River about six months back. In all that time, I didn’t think anyone had ever even met the guy, which considering the size of the town we lived in, that was on the questionable side.
He had to be some kind of recluse, I guessed.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “You know Ryder wouldn’t lead me astray.”
“Okay, just text me as soon as you’re done. I want all the details. Or wait, come into the café so you can tell me face-to-face. Even better.”
A giggle slipped up my throat. “You missed me while I was away, didn’t you?”
“I won’t even try to deny it. This town was boring as crap without you.”
Regret pulled at my ribcage. The intense kind because you could never make up for time that had passed or the things you had missed. But I couldn’t wallow in the mistakes that I had made, I could only make sure I never repeated them again.
“I promise you will be bored no more,” I said like a solemn oath. “Mack’s Friday night?”
These cowgirl boots were made for dancing, and I was about to set them free.
“Um, you could not keep me away. Kayden is having a sleepover at my mom’s, and this girl is ready to get her party on.”
Dakota’s son was almost two. He’d been born while I’d been living in Arizona. It was just another thing I’d missed—being there when he was an infant, being there for my best friend.
“I can’t wait,” I told her. “I gotta run. I just picked up my grandpa’s medication and need to drop it off at his house before I head out to this interview, and I’m wicked late already.”
“Give your grandpa a hug for me.”
“Will do. Talk to you soon, Doodle-Boo.”
“Bye, Paisley-Cakes.”
Ending the call, I yanked open the door to my old truck who I lovingly called Maybe.
Her hinges creaked in protest.
Yes, I’d named her. She’d been with me from the beginning, since I was sixteen and had scraped together enough money to buy her, and she’d been by my side through every escapade I’d embarked on ever since.
I tossed the grocery bags across the bench seat and hopped in, and I pushed myself up close to the steering wheel as I leaned in and stuffed the key into the ignition. I bounced as I gave it a little gas and cranked it over, coaxing her with sweet nothings. “That’s it. We have this. It’s you and me, Maybe. Don’t let me down now.”
She roared to life.
And I mean, roared, my old girl rumbling and chugging and vibrating like a raring beast. I caressed a hand over the weathered dash that sported a crack rivaling the Grand Canyon that ran from one side to the other, a perfect reflection of the one that ran across the windshield. “You’re so good to me.”
My phone pinged, and I glanced to the side where it was sitting on the seat.
Ryder: Don’t be late.
I rolled my eyes. As if.
Okay. Fine. I was always late.
Ryder knew me well. And truth be told, I didn’t want to make him look bad, so I pressed down on the brake as I shoved the gear into reverse.
Plus, I really needed this job. No, I really wanted this job.
I could feel the hope of it vibrating through my spirit, and I needed to get my butt in gear before I messed up this opportunity before it even started.
I glanced in the rearview mirror, squinting against the blinding rays of morning light that streaked in as the sun climbed into the endless expanse of blue Colorado sky.
All clear.
I gunned it out of the spot.
I jarred forward when Maybe banged into something from out of nowhere. The sound of grating metal was garbled by the screech that tore up my throat.
I rammed back on the brakes, holding tight to the steering wheel, blinking through the confusion, before my mind finally caught up to what had just happened.
“Crap,” I grumbled under my breath, and I tossed it into park and hopped out. I absolutely didn’t have time for this.
My boots hit the pavement, and I rounded the rear to find Maybe’s tail-end banged up against the bumper of a shiny black Range Rover.
Just freaking awesome.
The SUV was halfway out of its spot, too, and appeared to have been pulling out to head the opposite direction. The two vehicles had made impact right in the middle of the aisle.
I knelt to inspect the spot where we’d collided.
Relief gusted.
There was only a small dent and a scratch on the Rover’s bumper, and my truck didn’t have any damage at all.
It didn’t look bad. Nope, not too bad at all.
Except I was pretty sure the other driver might not agree when I felt the dark cloud descend from above.
Warily, I looked up, and my heart pitched in my chest.
I could barely make him out with the sunlight that blurred around him, the man a silhouette of darkness that towered two feet away. That didn’t mean I couldn’t feel the stone-cold eyes glaring down at me.
“Are you hurt?” His tone was completely at odds with the question.
“No. I’m fine.” It came out shakier than I’d anticipated.
Air huffed from his nose, and his deep voice was a rumble of condescension as he looked at the damage on his bumper. “I guess it’s too much to ask people to watch where they’re going.”
I pushed to standing, my words cracking with anger. “Excuse me? You ran into me.”
Okay, we’d run into each other, but if he was going to be a jerk about it…
A displeasured scoff blew from his nose, and he stepped forward.
I really hoped my eyes hadn’t actually popped out of my head when it brought him into view.
Bollocks and ballsacks.
I’d backed into an Abercrombie model.
Or maybe a Greek God reincarnated.
He glowered, his jaw and cheeks as hard as the icy blue eyes that seemed to glow from his ridiculous face. He was all sharp angles and polished stone, his lips so full and red that my tongue unconsciously stroked over mine.
Correction.
Fallen angel.
That’s what he was.
A dark one who’d been booted right out of paradise for being a giant dick.
His brow lifted, his dark blond hair mostly short, cut close on the sides, but the longer pieces on top were pushed back, making him look fiercer.
My stomach twisted.
“I ran into you?” he challenged.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Um, yes, you did. You’re clearly farther out of your spot than I am. Besides, doesn’t your fancy-ass car have some sort of warning system to keep you from crashing right into unsuspecting people?”
I flung a hand toward his showpiece, scowling hard to prove my point.
Annoyance had him readjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket.
His suit jacket.
Seriously, who was this guy and where did he come from? He was obviously lost. Men like him didn’t belong in Time River, a spec of a small town in Nowhere, Colorado.
But he wouldn’t be the first tourist to stray from the big city and onto our streets. Seeking the beauty of the plains set in a backdrop of breathtaking mountains and the gorgeous river that ran through. In the winter, the mountains would be covered by snow, but at this time of year, only the soaring peaks were painted white, the snow slowly melting as the fullness of the summer approached.
The irritation the man wore was almost palpable. “It warned me, but since you flew out of your spot without care in that monstrosity, there was no time to avert the accident.”
Monstrosity?
“How dare you call Maybe a monstrosity.” I set my hand on the tailgate like it could shield her from the slur.
Exasperation seemed to shake his head as he shifted a bit to the side, and he had the audacity to rake his teeth over that full bottom lip. He returned his potent gaze back to me, blowing out a sigh of resignation. “You know what, I don’t have time for this.”
“Like I do,” I spat, trying to ignore the buzzy power radiating from him.
It wasn’t like he was beefy or anything. Everything about him was lean and hewn, but I’d bet my ass everything under that suit was sculpted in strength. Deceptively smooth. He was the type of guy who would strike before a person even knew he was coming for them.
I propped my hands on my hips. “Do you want my insurance information or what? Or we can exchange numbers or whatever. You barely have a scratch on your car, but I’m sure you’re going to want to get it fixed.”
Like this guy would settle for anything less than perfection.
“No, I don’t want your information. I’ll handle it.”
My mouth dropped open. I didn’t know if I was offended or relieved. “I do have insurance, you know.”
“Congrats, but I think I’ll see to things for myself.”
I blinked.
Congrats?
Without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and strode around the side of his car, taking that dark, broody, self-righteous ego with him.
I stood there gaping at his overpowering form as he slipped into the driver’s seat, the man far too tall and powerful for anyone’s good.
He didn’t spare me a glance when he put the SUV into drive, his tires squealing as he peeled away.
“Grrr…what a freaking jerk,” I shrieked. And still, I stood there staring as he took off onto Manchester, the main street that ran through Time River.
The second his SUV disappeared, I tore myself out of the trance he had me under and hightailed my ass back to the driver’s side of my truck and climbed inside. I shoved it back into reverse the way I’d done before I’d been so rudely interrupted and finished pulling out of the spot, then I shifted into drive and gunned it.
A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, BLEEDING STARS, FIGHT FOR ME, CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART, FALLING STARS, and REDEMPTION HILLS novels. Watch out for her upcoming stand-alone, LOVE ME TODAY, releasing May 29th!
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletter https://geni.us/ALJacksonBookClubB or text “aljackson” to 33222 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.
“What?” I groan and face her again. “Call someone else. Whatever it is, call someone else to help her. I’ll even pay for it. It’ll be cheaper than the therapy I’ll have to endure after seeing her.”
“She needs help.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh, I know that. I rode with her all the way to Orlando and back to pick up someone’s shit when they moved in with Maddox.”
She sighs.
I sigh back at her.
We watch one another. Neither of us says a word. But Sara? Sara says lots of words, many of which can be heard through the phone dangling in Ashley’s hand from across the room.
If Sara had called and asked for my help, I wouldn’t answer. The woman is hell on wheels. She’s headstrong and thinks she knows everything. Her aversion to physical labor is astounding.
If I’m water, she’s oil—oil that hasn’t been changed in a hundred-thousand miles. And I’m basically holy water, so it’s a no-go.
But it’s not Sara who’s asking for my help. It’s Ashley. And Ashley is family.
Oh, fuck my life.
I blow out a long, hasty breath.
“I’ll let you come over for dinner tomorrow, too,” Ashley says, luring me in with her fluttery lashes.
Still, I hold strong and think it through.
Even if I put up an argument and do my best to resist her pleas for help, I’ll give in. Arguing will only delay the inevitable. At worst, Ashley will call Maddox, and he’ll call me, asking me to go. And I can’t say no to Maddox because he never says no to me.
Except for the spiders.
“Three dinners,” I say. “And movie nights with you guys every Saturday for a month.”
She grins and thrusts the phone my way.
I take it, glaring at her. It only makes her giggle.
I sigh again, just to set the stage. Can’t let Sara think I’m happy about this.
“Hi, giant pain in the ass,” I say.
“Thinking about my ass again, I see.”
This is gonna suck.
Blurb:
Looking for a Fake Fiancé
Have you ever wanted to prove someone wrong so badly that you could taste it?
It doesn’t matter if they’re right. The fact that they had the audacity to say it is what counts.
Hi. It’s me. I’m that person.
The man I’ve been casually seeing told me I’m not “wife material” and should “lower my expectations”. Didn’t he realize I lowered them the moment I met him for dinner?
Obviously not.
Am I petty? Maybe. Annoyed? Of course. Determined? Definitely.
I need someone to help me flaunt my new engagement—my fiancé couldn’t wait to pop the question because I’m that amazing—in his face.
The problem? I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone a husband-to-be.
Which brings us to you.
Are you handsome? Successful? A smooth talker extraordinaire?
Are you willing to do all the things that someone madly in love would do?
Putting your hand on the small of my back. Forehead kissing. Acting like I’m a treasure you can’t live without. I need you to be prepared to do all those things … and maybe more.
What do you get out of this? I’m willing to negotiate terms—especially if they include a job and a place to stay. It’s a long story.
One night. One event. Let’s put on one heck of a show.
From USA Today and Amazon Charts Bestselling author comes a “hot and hilarious!” fake-dating tale between two frenemies that turn into roommates, coworkers, and, ultimately, lovers. Fans of close proximity, one-bed trope, and blue-collar, small-town heroes will fall madly in love with this story.
About the Author:
USA Today Bestselling author, Adriana Locke, writes contemporary romances about the two things she knows best—big families and small towns. Her stories are about ordinary people finding extraordinary love with the perfect combination of heart, heat, and humor.
She loves connecting with readers, fall weather, football, reading alpha heroes, everything pumpkin, and pretending to garden.
Hailing from a tiny town in the Midwest, Adriana spends her free time with her high school sweetheart (who she married over twenty-five years ago) and their four sons (who truly are her best work). Her kitchen may be a perpetual disaster, and if all else fails, there is always pizza.
USA Today bestseller, Catherine Cowles, has a sneak peek of her upcoming friends-to-lovers, small town romance, Echoes of You, coming May 2nd!
MADDIE
His fingers found the buttons on my shirt, though he paused for a moment, silently asking for permission.
I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs. A million different emotions warred inside me. Want, anxiety, excitement, fear. But most of all, hope. For this moment. For us.
Nash’s fingers deftly unfastened each button. But he seemed to be in no hurry. My hands lifted to the top buttons to help the process along.
“Don’t.” His voice was all husky smoke.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been dreaming of peeling the clothes from your body for as long as I can remember. And I’m going to enjoy every damn second.”
My eyes flared as my hands fell back to the mattress. “Oh.”
Nash leaned over me, his lips skimming the column of my neck. “I’ve dreamt of how this skin would feel. How it would taste. I’ve come to pictures of you in my mind more times than I can count. And I know the real thing will ruin me forever. But it’ll be so damn worth it.”
My breaths came in short pants, my fingers fisting in the sheets. “Nash…”
He pulled back, moving from button to button. “Hmm?”
His focus was zeroed in on each expanse of skin my parted shirt revealed as if it were the most riveting sight he’d ever seen. Nash’s thumb circled my belly button. It was the most innocent of movements, but it had everything in me drawing up and winding tighter.
“Please.”
Nash unbuttoned another clasp. “Don’t rush me.”
I squirmed in place, a million curses on the tip of my tongue. But two could play this game. I ran my bare foot up the inside of his leg from his calf to his thigh to what stood at attention between us.
“Maddie…” he growled.
I grinned. “What? If you get to touch, I get to touch.” I stroked Nash through his sweatpants.
The sound that slipped from his lips wasn’t altogether human. Nash took both sides of my blouse and tugged. The remaining buttons went flying across the room.
I gaped at him. “You did not just do that.”
Nash grinned as he slid the blouse down my arms. As the fabric parted more, he stilled, his gaze zeroing in on the kaleidoscope of colors on my side.
I swallowed. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
His fingers lightly skimmed the marred skin, then he bent and ghosted his lips over the fading bruises. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. That I didn’t—”
I grabbed Nash’s tee and gave a hard tug. “No. It’s not on you. And he doesn’t get a place here. Not when it’s you and me. Not when I finally have what I’ve wanted all these years.”
Nash took my mouth in a long, slow kiss. “It’s you and me.”
“Always you and me,” I whispered against his lips.
Writer of words. Drinker of Diet Cokes. Lover of all things cute and furry, especially her dog. Catherine has had her nose in a book since the time she could read and finally decided to write down some of her own stories. When she’s not writing she can be found exploring her home state of Oregon, listening to true crime podcasts, or searching for her next book boyfriend.
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a friends-to-lovers story spanning more than a decade…
At first, I thought I’d hate spending the summer with Archie Remington—the conceited son of my parents’ friends.
What I knew about Archie: he was gorgeous, pre-law, and had always treated me like I didn’t exist when we were younger.
When our families bought a house together on an island in Maine, he and I were forced to share a bathroom.
The boy I remembered was now a full-grown man—but with the same attitude.
After a rough start, Archie and I unexpectedly started getting along one day and eventually became friends. We shared secrets and bonded during our morning jogs. I discovered that Archie had a wild spirit and that he struggled to conform to his father’s expectations.
Things were cool until I had to go and ruin it, getting drunk one night, and blurting out my fantasy—involving him.
I took it back, but it was too late. Archie had heard me loud and clear. After that, we never quite knew how to toe the line.
When that summer came to an abrupt and shocking end, I headed back to college, unsure if anything would ever be the same again.
Across the miles over the years, he and I stayed in touch as friends, but fate and timing always kept us from becoming more.
You know the saying: If two people are meant to be, they’ll find their way back to each other?
Let’s just say Archie came back into my life in a way I would’ve never expected.
And this time, my heart would really be put to the test.
Mixing alcohol with nostalgia, it turns out, is not always the wisest choice.
When Archie and I returned to the house that night, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Neither of us was tired enough to sleep. But the alcohol from the beers at the beach and the wine he’d opened once we got back home was going to my head fast. I could no longer be trusted with my words.
Archie took out the chocolate cake he’d made earlier and placed it on the counter. We both began eating it—with our bare hands. It was a mess, and I likely had chocolate all over my face. So this is how it ends, huh? I suppose it could be worse.
“I had so much fun tonight,” he said with his mouth full. “You?”
“It was awesome. Reminded me of the old days.” I licked chocolate off the corner of my mouth.
Archie’s eyes fell to my lips. “Seven years ago sometimes feels like yesterday, and other times like forever ago, doesn’t it?”
When I felt my eyes starting to well up, I knew that was my cue. I never wanted to leave Archie’s side, but I needed this weekend to be over before I lost it in front of him. “Anyway, we’d better go to bed,” I told him. “We both have early flights in the morning.”
I hopped down from my stool and rushed over to the sink to wash my hands. I hadn’t intended to make eye contact with him again because I didn’t want him to notice my eyes. Then again, he was a little drunk, too, so not sure how perceptive he would be.
Then I felt his presence nearby.
“I have so many regrets,” he said from behind me.
I turned to face him and swallowed. “Regrets about what?”
He had chocolate cake on his face, but somehow he’d never looked hotter.
“Everything,” he whispered. “With you.” He paused. “What we did and what we didn’t do. The way that summer ended. Everything.”
“Why are you bringing this up now?”
“Because I’m fucking drunk, I guess. I don’t know.” He pulled on his hair. “You look so goddamn beautiful right now.” His eyes were hazy as he murmured, “It hurts to look at you.”
My tears felt ready to fall. I couldn’t let that happen. “Keep that shit to yourself,” I muttered.
“We never talk about it, Noelle. We talk about everything else except the massive elephant in the room—the things we did that summer, what almost happened before—”
“Stop.” I sniffled. “You’re only bringing it up because you’re drunk. This is not a healthy way to discuss anything.”
“Maybe.” Archie leaned against the center island and placed his head in his hands. He went silent for a long time. “You were with Shane for like…forever. I thought you were gonna marry that guy. And I thought you were happy. I never thought you’d break up with him.” He looked down at the floor. “I kept waiting and…”
Waiting? He was waiting for things to end between Shane and me?
“I’m sorry…” He shook his head. “You’re right. I need to stop.”
Nothing good could come of two people with a ton of unspoken baggage trying to work things out while drunk. I could’ve poured out all of my feelings. I could have chosen to complicate his already-complicated life—turned it into a goddamn soap opera. But I loved him too much. I loved him. So I wouldn’t do that.
“Goodnight, Archie. Get some sleep.”
I left him standing in the kitchen next to a chocolate cake that looked like it had been ravaged by wild animals.
Then I went to my room and cried myself to sleep.
AUTHOR BIO
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling
author of contemporary romance.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a
television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son,
and beautiful daughter with autism.
With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over twenty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen
languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
USA Today bestseller, Catherine Cowles, has a sneak peek of her upcoming second-chance, small-town romance, Whispers of You, coming January 31st!
HOLT
Wren opened the door to reveal a massive Husky with the most piercing blue eyes standing guard in front of her. The dog’s gaze went from Lawson to me and back again.
Wren’s head jerked in my direction. “What are you doing here?”
Lawson winced. “Sorry. He overheard the call. There was no stopping him.”
My eyes traced the trails that tears had left on Wren’s cheeks. Some ended on her chin, while others streaked down her neck. Marks that I had put there.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Wren stared at me for the count of three. “I’m fine. Really.”
Lawson cleared his throat. “Can you show me where you found the shoe print?”
She nodded, motioning around the house. “I was in the hall with Shadow. I had just hung up with Grae and heard what I thought was a twig snap. Shadow growled, which she doesn’t usually do unless she’s warning me that she heard something.”
“Did you hear anything other than the twig snapping? Voices? Footsteps?” Lawson asked.
Wren shook her head. “Nothing…”
Her voice trailed off in a way that had me picking up my pace. “What is it?”
Writer of words. Drinker of Diet Cokes. Lover of all things cute and furry, especially her dog. Catherine has had her nose in a book since the time she could read and finally decided to write down some of her own stories. When she’s not writing she can be found exploring her home state of Oregon, listening to true crime podcasts, or searching for her next book boyfriend.
Professor Romance 