Archive for the ‘Contemporary Romance’ Category

 

The Champagne Crush

By Caroline O’ Connell

 

(Les Femmes Series)
Publication date: August 20th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Perfect for fans of Emily in Paris—with the sophistication of the wine world and a slow-burn, opposites-attract love story. A glitzy PR expert and a traditional wine president clash on a high-stakes global launch—where rivalry, reinvention, and romance collide.

AUDIOBOOK PRODUCTION DETAILS:

  • Format: Unabridged Audiobook
  • Performance: Single Narration by acclaimed British stage actress Karen Gundersen
  • Audio Features: Fully voiced character accents and deep emotional range
  • Primary Tropes: Workplace Romance, Opposites Attract, Slow-Burn
  • Audiobook Vibe: High-tension with a romantic, high-heat fade-to-black intimacy level (the intense build-up is on the page, but the camera pulls away before explicit details)

Goodreads / Amazon / BookBub

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Chris McDermott’s Family Ranch in Napa, CA
(Dinner after an all-day TV shoot in the vineyards)

When they were finishing the fig tart dessert with freshly whipped cream from their dairy, his dad leaned over to Chris. “Why don’t you show Catherine our current operation? It’s not much yet, but she’ll be able to say she saw a world class winery in its early stages.” He stood up and grabbed his plate. “I’ll help Maura clear the dishes. You two can take off.”

Chris didn’t need prompting. He was feeling inexplicably drawn to Catherine. The temperature outside dropped quickly, so he bundled her up in one of his warm leather jackets. It was three sizes too big, which only made her look more adorable.

They stepped onto a moonlit path and walked a short distance to the temporary winery: an aluminum-sided structure that held rudimentary winemaking equipment next to cases of empty bottles. A walk-in cooler held samples of the wines they’d already produced laid horizontally on racks. On the far end of the room, a partial wall separated the “office”—an old metal desk, a long table with office equipment and a computer, one file cabinet, shelves brimming with books and magazines, and a large bulletin board with articles and graphs clipped on it.

“I know it doesn’t look like much yet,” Chris said. “But it’s the genesis of our dream. My dad and I have been working toward this moment for many years, the chance to create our own family wine.”

He held out his hand. “Let’s go sit outside. It’s such a clear night, we should be able to see the stars.”

They sat on hay bales near the barn, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to keep her warm. He pointed up to the sky. “Most nights you can see the constellations and major stars, unless there’s cloud cover.” He pulled her closer. “There’s Venus . . .”

“Named after the Roman goddess of love and beauty . . .” Catherine chimed in.

Seems the beauty is right here, sitting next to me. “How about you, Catherine Reynolds? What are your dreams?”

She tucked her hands into the jacket pockets. “Unlike you, my dreams have changed over time. When Vanessa and I were teenagers, we went into modeling.” She made a face. “It’s not as glamorous as people think. Now, I’d like to pursue a career in the hospitality sector.” She sighed. “Still working that out.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you in the beginning. I think you’re a wonderful asset to the company.” And to my life.

He stood up and silently offered his hand, pulling her up to face him. An owl hooted nearby, momentarily jarring him from his intent to steal a kiss. He took a deep breath and gazed into her upturned face. Her long-lashed eyes blinked as she looked into his questioningly.

“We’d better get going.” He turned her around and draped his arm over her shoulders as they walked back. When they reached the guest cottage, he gave her a warm hug and walked off. She’s too appealing. I’m falling fast.

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About Author Caroline O’Connell:

Caroline O’Connell is the author of numerous travel guides, including Affordable Paris Hotels. The Champagne Crush is the first novel in the Les Femmes Series. In conjunction with the launch of the audiobook version, the ebook is discounted to $1.99 (from $9.99) on all platforms. Her website is https://carolinestraveltips.com/.

 

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His Beautiful Game

By Peyton Lux

 

(Lanark Soccer Club, #1)
Publication date: August 11th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

My childhood crush is my injured captain… and I’m the physio secretly keeping him on the pitch.

Rafe Calder is everything I learned not to want: flashy, reckless, adored, and far too beautiful. He is also hurt, lying about it, and somehow mine to fix.

I catch the limp no one else sees, then make the dumbest deal of my life. Private rehab, locked rooms, my hands on him daily, and one rule I keep pretending still matters.

At first, he pushes because he hates being handled. Then he listens when pain scares him, lets me see the lonely man under the captain’s armband, and looks ready to break when Donovan Reid makes me smile.

Somewhere between treatment lights, late-night checkups, and one reckless after-hours mistake that turns into more, I fall. Not for the fantasy I used to worship, but for the man who finally stops performing.

Then his injury truth explodes, and protecting him could cost me everything.

Worst of all, loving him might end his career.

Tropes: Childhood crush, star player x physiotherapist, secret injury, forced proximity, forbidden workplace romance, jealousy triangle
Spice level: High / explicit

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Jealousy

I watch every second of that embrace. Her face when he lifts her off the ground, her laughter, the ease of it. Nothing between Tess and me has ever been easy.

He was a good player. I said that myself. But tonight he saved the game in my place, and thirty thousand people cheered him while I stood there feeling like a man who had started the match and somehow still lost it. Then I see him holding Tess, my Tess, and she’s smiling up at him like she doesn’t know exactly what that does to me.

I find her in the hallway outside the locker room. She doesn’t slow when I fall into step beside her, but I catch the way she worries at her lip.

“Great game,” she says.

“Is that what you said to Reid when he had his hands all over you?”

Her head jerks toward me. “I thanked him for the hug, yes.”

I stop her with a hand around her wrist. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“He was thanking me. I cleared him to play on a calf knock.”

My throat tightens. “I saw the way you looked at him.”

Her expression hardens. “And what about you? What about the pictures of you with that woman? So it’s fine for you to do whatever you were doing, but I can’t accept a thank-you hug from a player I treated?”

“That was weeks ago,” I snap. “Before you and I—”

“I saw you at Halo.” Her voice goes cold. “The night after I came to your house.”

I stare at her. “I was with the lads. We go for beers all the time.”

“From where I was standing, you had a woman on your arm. Then you went off with her afterward. And you’ve got the gall to stand here and act jealous over three seconds in a football stadium?”

“Why were you watching me at Halo?” I demand.

“I was out with Donovan and Layla,” she says sharply. “I wasn’t stalking you.”

The room seems to tilt. “You were out with him?”

“With him and Layla. As friends.”

That lands like a punch. She steps closer and jabs a finger into my chest, and I let her. “Besides, you have no claim over me. You said mine into a mirror after a quick fuck in the gym and then showed up in the press with some other woman. And you know what? You’re right. We’re nothing, officially, so don’t stand here making me feel guilty for doing my job.”

“Don’t say nothing,” I say.

“What are we then?”

The anger in her face cracks for a second, and there’s fear underneath it. “I’ve been lying to my employer about you. I’ve filed false assessments. I’ve let you into places that were supposed to be professional, and you—”

“I haven’t touched anyone else,” I say. “Not since you.”

That stops her.

“The photos were nothing,” I tell her. “What you saw at Halo was nothing.”

Tears gather at the corners of her eyes. “You told me—”

“And I meant it.”

I cup her cheek. “You’re mine, Tess.”

She shudders when I kiss her. She lets me pull her against the wall, lets me kiss her hard enough to make the hallway disappear. But then she presses a hand to my chest and pushes back, just enough to stop me.

I break away, breathing hard. “I haven’t wanted anyone else. Not once.”

Her jaw tightens. “You’re injured, Rafe. Publicly now. I have to file a real assessment this week, and whatever this is, I can’t let it affect that report.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“It already does,” she says quietly. “Every decision I make about your hip, your minutes, whether you play the Founders’ Cup or Donovan does—it’s all compromised because I have feelings. About both of you. And I can’t fix that, so I need you to give me some room.”

Room. For him, too.

I take a step back. Then another.

“Okay,” I say.

Her face flickers. “Rafe—”

“I heard you.” I keep backing away. “Do your job, Montgomery.”

She turns and walks off, leaving me standing in the corridor with the feeling that I’ve just done the right thing, and somehow lost anyway.

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About Author Peyton Lux:

Trading boardrooms for bedrooms (of the fictional kind!), Peyton Lux is now fully dedicated to writing steamy workplace romance that leaves readers utterly satisfied.

Her former life in marketing taught her how to craft compelling narratives – a skill she now devotes entirely to her steamy workplace romance novels.

Peyton lives and breathes romance, infusing her stories with undeniable heat and fiercely earned happily-ever-afters.

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The Art of Almost Losing It

By Alina Jacobs

 

(The Richmond Brothers, #3)
Publication date: August 4th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

There comes a time in every almost-thirty-year-old woman’s life when getting kidnapped off the street is preferable to admitting that the hot, rich boyfriend you’ve been bragging about for months does not, in fact, exist.

Yes, it’s terrifying being stuffed in the trunk of a Mercedes, but I would rather be locked in a stranger’s penthouse than sleeping on the floor of my parents’ apartment like the loser daughter I am.

Honestly?
It’s nice to get some alone time. And my own bathroom.

He bribes me with money not to call the police.

I scream at him for forcing me to go to brunch as his prisoner at the hottest restaurant in New York.

Now everyone in my parents’ aggressively posh Manhattan neighborhood thinks we’re dating.

Buckle up, buddy.
I have a full wedding itinerary to attend, and congratulations—you’re my fake boyfriend.

Unfortunately, my kidnapper is the worst fake boyfriend in the history of fake boyfriends.

He’s mean.
Aloof.
Emotionally unavailable.
And deeply offended by how much time I spend on my phone.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to ignore how yummy he smells, all muscular and tall as he fumes next to me in bed, furious because I asked him when the sexy portion of the kidnapping is going to happen.

It’s a fair question, though, right?!? I thought kidnapping came with benefits!

Guess my kidnapper didn’t want me that much after all.

Men lying about their desire for a relationship. Story of my life.

Now I’m trapped.
He’s miserable.

And somehow, this is starting to feel dangerously like a relationship.

Goodreads / Amazon

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Enjoy this peek inside:

The one time a hot guy shows interest in me… and he’s a violent kidnapper.

My screams cut off as he tosses in my laptop case. It lands on my ribs, knocking the breath out of me. He shoves my legs fully into the trunk, then tosses in the barking Lulu, then slams the door.

I assume it’s a mistake.

The expensive German car. The bespoke suit. The cologne that smells like money and expensive scotch—Men like him don’t grab women like me.

So why did he just shove me, in all my pizza-sauce-stained, Costco-clothes glory, into the trunk?

I needed a boyfriend, sure, but I did not expect him to arrive via a felony crime.

The engine purrs.

Wait.

Am I really being kidnapped?

Like… for real?

Sleet rattles against the roof as the realization hits.

Oh.

Oh no.

I’m trapped in the trunk of a stranger’s car. A dangerous man. Being driven God knows where.

Sure, he’s attractive—but that is deeply unhelpful information right now.

I’ll never see my family again. Never eat a dollar slice of pizza again—

Wait.

I squint.

Window.

This isn’t a sedan. This is an SUV.

I’m not trapped.

I haul myself up and pop my head over the back seat.

“You’re a crappy kidnapper!” I scream.

Shit!” he yells—and nearly plows into a parked truck. “You—!”

The car jerks to a stop at a stop sign. He throws it into park and starts climbing over the seats toward me.

“You can’t kidnap me,” I say, panic creeping in. “You don’t want me. I’m not a girl anyone kidnaps.”

My dog barks.

Emerald-green eyes catch the light.

“Sit down,” he commands.

“My mom is going to be really upset if I don’t come home tonight,” I blurt. “Let me go.”

The doors lock.

I fumble in my purse. Find my pepper spray.

“Yes!” I whisper. “I’m a strong, independent —”

I spray… myself.

Water,” I gasp, coughing, wheezing, blind.

I suck in a lungful of peppery air and yank at the door handle, begging it to open.

Too late.

“Stupid fucking girl,” he snarls, grabbing my jacket and dragging me forward.

“You didn’t even handcuff me!” I wheeze.

He pauses. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

He loosens his tie.

I gulp.

“I cannot believe,” he sneers, “that I kidnapped the most unattractive woman in Manhattan.”

Oh.

So… not the future love of my life after all.

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About Author Alina Jacobs:

I write the kind of books I love—romantic comedies featuring snarly guys with hearts of gold, kick-ass heroines, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after! Also wine. And cupcakes.

When I’m not writing I can be found drinking tea, surrounded by my massive to-be-read pile! So many books…

You can connect with me on social media or find information on my books at my website.

Sign up for my newsletter so that you can get information about new releases, giveaways, and more!

http://alinajacobs.com/mailinglist.html

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Love Next Door: A ‘90s Anthem Duet

Eve Kasey & Melanie A. Smith

 

Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

One volume, two steamy interconnected romances set in 1995 Seattle

Come to My Window
Hazel Bell has lost everything — her job, her apartment, and her future in Seattle. Now her whole world is a thrift-store wardrobe, a family of houseplants, and a stranger in the opposite window who knows exactly what to say.

They exchange notes instead of names. Confessions instead of introductions. And somehow, the man she’s never met becomes the one person she can’t live without.

Gideon Sarkis knows the truth would end them before they ever begin.

He knows exactly who Hazel is. But she doesn’t know him — or how badly he once hurt her. The more notes they write, the harder he falls. But with his obligations pressing in and her options disappearing, their time is running out.

Some windows are meant to be opened.

But some secrets can shatter everything.

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Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door
Ben Pedersen is a ghostwriter stuck crafting someone else’s thrillers when a misdelivered package introduces him to the mystery of unit 203 — and its elusive occupant, Heaven Lee.

Lee is a software engineer burning the candle at every possible end, helping build one of the first online bookstores. She doesn’t have time for nosy neighbors. She barely has time for sleep. But the guy upstairs keeps getting her mail, and he’s funny, patient, and her dog likes him more than the UPS guy. So maybe one coffee not-date won’t kill her.

The neighborly arrangement that follows becomes something neither of them planned. But Lee won’t admit what’s in the misdelivered packages, and Ben’s writer brain won’t let a mystery rest. When curiosity crosses a line, both must decide what matters more: protecting their secrets or fighting for what they’ve found.

Love Next Door is two warm, witty nostalgic love stories about the secrets we keep, the walls we build, and the people worth tearing them down for.

Pre-order

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About Author:

Melanie A. Smith is an award-winning, international best-selling author of steamy romance with smart, self-sufficient heroines and strong, swoony book boyfriends with hearts of gold. A former engineer turned stay-at-home mom and author, when Melanie is not lost in the world of books you’ll find her spending time with her husband and son, crafting, or cross-stitching.
Eve Kasey writes for a design firm by day and reads (and writes!) indie romance novels by night. Her contemporary romances balance swoon and steam while aiming to teach readers something new. She loves romance for the hope the genre conveys as well as the amplification of the simple truth that everyone everywhere deserves a happily ever after – however that looks to them. Eve lives in and loves the Pacific Northwest.

 

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Bad Decisions & Back Roads: Second Chance Veterinary Romance

By Zoe Forward

 

(Southern Veterinary, #2)
Publication date: August 3rd 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

The problem with bad decisions is you never stop wanting them.

I used to be the rebellious girl from the wrong side of the fenceline. He was the local hellraiser nobody could tame. While our families carried on a feud older than indoor plumbing, we fell for each other.

Then my vicious father found out. To save Timothy’s life, I broke his heart and disappeared.

Now over a decade later, I’m back as a large-animal veterinarian, working at his brother’s clinic and treating everything from prize dairy cows to Timothy’s homicidal llama. Avoiding him should be easy.

It isn’t.

He’s a single dad running two businesses, still infuriatingly irresistible, and determined to make me pay for every year he spent hating me.

The problem? I never stopped loving him. But if he learns why I really left, I could lose him forever.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

“Yesterday…I wrecked you?” She gave me a look I remembered. Her green eyes flared. I was about to lose this fight in a way I’d never recover from.

She slowly unzipped her coveralls. My brain immediately abandoned ship. Not helped by the fact that traitorous memory chose this exact moment to replay yesterday’s rainstorm in vivid detail.

Meanwhile, in real time, she peeled the coveralls down and somehow stepped out of them while keeping her socks from touching the ground—a feat of female sorcery I could neither explain nor stop watching.

Underneath was a tight white shirt that clung in ways that should probably require a warning label, a permit, and possibly a pastor on standby.

My eyes briefly closed. Opened. She was still there.

Beside me, Cody made a small choking noise.

I cut him a glare.

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Then—because she enjoyed cruelty—she lifted both arms and twisted her hair into a messy bun. Which did things. Terrible, magnificent things to her chest.

Her mouth curved like she knew exactly what she’d done. She pulled a scrub top out of the duffle and pulled it down over the tight shirt. Without a word, she packed the supplies into her duffel, casually picked up the dart rifle from the ground, and started walking up the hill like she hadn’t just detonated every functioning brain cell in a fifty-yard radius.

Then she tossed over her shoulder—

“I’m back, Timothy Hurst. End of story.” A few steps later she said, “You’re welcome…for dealing with your dangerous llama.”

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About Author Zoe Forward:

USA Today bestselling author Zoe Forward is a parent, wife, veterinarian, and unapologetic chocolate lover. She writes spicy paranormal and contemporary romances that blend action, adventure, humor, and a touch of magic.

Zoe lives in the South with a lively menagerie of four-legged beasts and two slightly wild kids.

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Bound Beauty

By Jennifer Silverwood

 

(A Wylder Tale, #3)
Publication date: July 14th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Forgotten gods haunt her steps, and the cursed prince she left behind isn’t done fighting for her soul.

Vynasha is bound to the prince of Bitterhelm. Even if she were to die, her spirit will remain trapped with him in the castle forever. But she won’t give in to Grendel without a fight. With the aid of an oracle, a witchling, and the wolf that claims her heart, Vynasha plans to claim her power as the curse breaker.

Ceddrych guards their nephew secretly while fighting to keep the feral beasts roaming their borders at bay. But the monsters are closing in, and the madness he has struggled with drives him to one desperate, unforgivable act.

A war is about to begin between the forgotten people of Wylderland and the cruel might of Bitterhelm. Beings of prophecy and legend unite in the epic third chapter of the Wylder Tales Series, a romantic gothic re-telling of Beauty and the Beast.

WYLDER TALES is a series of romantic dark fairy tales, set in the past of the wider Borderlands Saga, and includes:
•slow burn romantasy
•forced proximity
•enemies to lovers
•found family
•magical bonds
•wicked witches
•burly beasts
•morally gray characters

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IN A FORBIDEN DREAM IN WYLDERLAND…

The journey seemed to take far longer than she remembered, and part of her feared the passage of time here compared to the world her body remained behind. Ceddrych had told her countless tales of the dangers of magick, of what happened when one dwelled too long in enchanted dreams.

Here the palace looked less like a ruin wrought from rampage. Candles gave off an unnatural silver glow and the hovering lights that had been trailing Vynasha seemed to thicken and gather as she lifted a hand to push open the doors to the throne room. They cracked open before her hand could touch the intricately carved wood.

Snow filtered in through the broken ceiling and rose vines curled over every surface, crawling up the obsidian columns and steps to the throne. Surrounding the steps, the shadow-spirits of beasts of every size and shape lounged and paced. Their forms flickered about the edges, and their eyes glowed brightly, turning to fix upon Vynasha as she slowly entered the hall.

Upon the throne, the thorned vines had dug into a hunched over man. His blood gleamed luminous violet, the same shade as hers was now.

With every step she took, the full wreck of his downfall became increasingly apparent. The shadow beasts at her back pressed closer, urging her forward. Vynasha clenched her fists and refused to climb the steps to face him.

“Grendel.” Her voice echoed like a plucked lute string through the cavernous hall.

Grendel shuddered and then raised his head and looked at her with dead violet eyes. “Vynasha.” The crack in his voice echoed clearly to her ears. His eyes widened when she remained, and his vine-wrapped hands clawed at the arms of his throne. “You have come at last.”

Her feet began to move of their own accord. She barely caught herself in time. She could not, would not go to him, and certainly never pity him. “What happened here? Why are my roses taking over like this?”

“Can you not guess, Vynasha” Grendel leaned forward, ignoring the press of the rose crowning his dark hair. “Vynasha, you have no idea how your absence has undone me. It has been pure torture to sense you but never able to touch you.”

“Good.” Vynasha took a single involuntary step up the stairs leading to his throne. His violet eyes flared wide with apprehension as she growled, “You and your monsters have made our lives a living hell, Grendel. It’s only fair I repay your bloody kindness.”

Grendel’s lips parted and his gaze took in the full measure of her with all the subtlety of a starving man. “Yet you are here,” he said, a new clarity brightening his violet gaze. His hands flexed against the arms of his throne. “You are truly here, and that means the spell has been broken.”

Vynasha flinched at his sudden smile and found herself unable to take a step back. Her feet drove her forward once more, and this time she had no power over herself to stop. “What are you doing to me?”

Grendel’s hand twitched and then she was flung forward. He groaned as he caught her, the thorns digging deeper into his flesh. She cried out as the same thorns cut her palms as she braced herself against his chest. “I have you, at last, I have you,” he said, eyes bright with unshed tears.

He was mad. No, she was mad. For the instant her hands found his flesh, a roaring wave of need assaulted her. She could rage at him and claim this was his need she felt, not her own. But this compulsion was familiar, forbidden and something she had fought desperately to forget in the past three moons.

“Grendel, let me go” she pleaded as she leaned into him, the pain of his thorns forgotten as he pulled her into his lap and began to press his lips over every part of her he could reach.

“How could I give you up my beauty, my love, my queen?”

She couldn’t breathe. The scent of roses, of life and death, of him were overwhelming. A part of her was starving, had been starving for months, she realized wish sickening clarity. “I hate you,” she sobbed as she tilted her chin and gave him further access to her neck. “If you pull me back here again, I will find a way to kill you, I swear it.”

“You cannot kill me without killing yourself, love,” he said with a laugh.

“Then we both die.” She shook her head but could not help tracing her nose along his neck, to draw in more of his heady scent.

“Vynasha,” he cried as her lips pressed to his pulse. “Please, Vynasha!”

But he was no longer tangible beneath her hands, the thorns no longer piercing them both. The painful aching need to mold herself to him faded just as she did, her hands disappearing before her eyes.

“Vynasha!” He cried with an agony she felt as her spirit was ripped free from Grendel’s nightmare. And the world around her dimmed, consumed by a cloud of inky ashes.

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About Author Jennifer Silverwood:

Jennifer Silverwood lives in the middle of an enchanted forest surrounded by cursed books, nosy spirits, and mischievous goblins she calls her children. After beginning several nonsensical degrees, she found her calling helping other authors bring their books to life. Jennifer is the author of two fairy tale fantasy series: the Borderlands Saga and Wylder Tales. Because she wasn’t satisfied writing in one genre, she also invites you to explore uncharted space with the Heaven’s Edge Novellas—and dare to fall in love again with the standalone romance titles Stay and She Walks in Moonlight.

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Wicked Temptation: The Lost Treasure

By Patti O’Shea

 

(The Paladin League, #8)
Publication date: July 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Suspense

He’s always been a protector. She’s strong enough to fight on her own. This time, survival depends on each other.

Special Forces Sgt. Cal “Baggs” Baggnell walked away from Iona Desmond. Carving out his own heart hurt—but watching the woman he loves charge headfirst into danger hurt even more.

Iona loves Cal with her whole being, but she couldn’t change the core of who she is to fit his protective nature. He knew exactly who she was when they met—the need for adventure is in her DNA.

Now, their paths collide in Puerto Jardin, where Iona has talked her way into Cal’s op. And he’s been assigned to work with her.

Their bait: the Lost Treasure of Trujillo. Their target: arms dealer Jorge Torres. Their problem: Torres isn’t the only predator closing in.

With ruthless drug lords, rival treasure hunters, and a powerful Russian mob lieutenant obsessed with finding the billion-dollar fortune, Cal and Iona must put their past aside. The deeper they dig, the deadlier the game becomes.

As betrayals mount and enemies tighten their grip, survival depends on one thing: Trust. If they fail, they won’t just lose their second chance—they’ll lose everything.

Wicked Temptation is a stand-alone romance with a HEA. There are references to events that happened in earlier books, but it’s not necessary to read them to enjoy this story.

Indulge in a protective Special Forces hero and a heroine who works undercover for the Paladin League as a photojournalist. This story features a second-chance romance, identical twins, and a kick-butt heroine.

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“Baggs,” BD said somewhere behind them, “how do you know our guest?”

Cal inhaled sharply and his muscles tensed.

“Io is my wife.”

The words hit her like a jolt. Of course he’d say it like that—direct, unvarnished, a fact dropped into the room like a grenade. Her stomach twisted. She kept her eyes closed for one more heartbeat, wishing she could stay in the place where she felt safe and not the place where reality waited. She hated that part of her still wanted the title he’d walked away from.

Silence sharpened around them.

Io stepped back.

Cal’s arms tightened for a split second, and then he released her. The loss of his warmth was immediate, a cold draft across her skin despite the humidity of Trujillo. She forced herself not to reach for him again. Forced herself to remember why she shouldn’t. She’d already learned what happened when she let herself believe she belonged with him.

She turned to her sister.

Exactly what she’d expected. Hurt, anger, tears. “Ayla—”

“You got married?”

Oz moved to Ayla’s side. Io felt a flicker of gratitude and irritation. It had always been her job to protect Ayla. To absorb the hard things so her sister didn’t have to.

She shot Cal a look. “We eloped. We went to Las Vegas while Cal had leave.”

“Vegas? Did you get married by an Elvis impersonator?”

Oz tugged Ayla closer.

Io felt her temper climb. “Sure, showgirls and all. What else would you get at a Vegas wedding? Certainly not a real chapel with a real minister.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did. I’m sorry I hurt you, but you don’t get to take free shots at my wedding.” Cal and Oz stayed wisely silent.

“When did you get married?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Hell. “January.”

“It’s July.” Ayla threw that out like a gauntlet. “You had months to tell me.”

“And the marriage isn’t in your personnel file,” BD added to Cal. “I would have seen that.”

Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

BD waited. When Cal stayed quiet, he said, “Notification protocols, benefits, next-of-kin—”

“Io has her own health coverage. She’s not dependent on me.”

She wasn’t dependent on anyone. Not now. Not ever.

“And if you were injured or killed?” BD pressed. “I never would have known to contact Ms. Desmond.”

Io flinched. She didn’t want to think about Cal dying, but his job came with risks. Serious ones.

Ayla’s gaze was sharp, wounded. “That’s why I didn’t see you in February, isn’t it? You were with him!” She pointed at Cal as if she were a noir detective.

Sighing, Io said, “Cal was stationed in Germany. The commute to California was a little tough.”

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t call. Or text.”

“It wasn’t a vacation.”

“It was a honeymoon.”

That hit hard. Io was too tired for this. Cal stood behind her, close enough she could feel him, and she wished, just for a second, that she could lean into him the way Ayla leaned into Oz. But she was the strong one. The one who held everyone else up. She didn’t get to lean.

“Ay, I’m not going to argue. I’m sorry I hurt you. It was never about hurting you. If you want to keep ripping at me, we can do it later. In private.”

“I don’t want to rip at you, I just want to know why you shut me out.”

Io eyed the table. She could reach it, hold on, stay on her feet. Her energy was gone and Ayla’s questions were the hard stuff.

They’d both been shaped by their parents, but in opposite ways.

Her vision blurred. The room tilted. She swayed.

Cal moved before she even registered she was unsteady enough to fall. It was pure instinct, nothing more. Certainly not love. She knew that. But his arms locked around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. Solid. Unyielding. Familiar in a way that made something inside her crack.

“I got you, Io,” he murmured, voice low against her ear. “I told you that earlier.”

She let her hands drift to his, trying to remember how to stay upright. Her muscles trembled with the effort.

“You want to know why I didn’t tell you?” Io forced her gaze to meet her twin’s. Her throat burned. “Because we got married in January and it was over in March. That’s why. Happy now, Ayla?”

,

About Author Patti O’Shea:

Patti O’Shea’s passions are writing, airplanes and traveling. Fortunately, she’s been able to enjoy all three. After receiving a degree in advertising copywriting, she took a job with a major U.S. airline and now works in 757 Engineering. Besides teaching her about the planes she loves, it’s given her an opportunity to travel to places like Australia, Papua New Guinea and Canada’s Yukon Territory.

Writing, though, remains her primary love. Patti created her first romance when she was in junior high school and has been hooked ever since. She should have figured out she was a writer years earlier, however, since her dolls had such involved lives, complete with goals, motivation and conflict.

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Hott Hotter Hottest

By Serena Bell

 

(Hott Springs Eternal, #5)
Publication date: June 9th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Real bodyguard. Fake boyfriend. Unexpected benefits. Trouble guaranteed.

Tucker: Autumn Sato is a happiness influencer. And I’m…well, let’s just say my brand is more big gray stormcloud. If life were going to plan, the closest I’d get to her would be scrolling past her posts as fast as my thumbs could fly.

But my sister needs help, so I agree to bodyguard Autumn at her sister’s wedding. One thing leads to another, and suddenly I’m pretending to be her new boyfriend in front of all her friends and family.

It’s a hot mess, made worse because I swore I’d never do this again. Never get close to someone I was guarding. Never fall for someone whose safety was in my hands. Never let distraction get in the way of my job.

Unfortunately, this entire week is nothing but distractions: trapped in a car with my smoking hot client, only one bed in our hotel room, only one tent on the wedding camping trip… all before the bachelor–bachelorette prom. Meanwhile, someone seems to have it out for Autumn… or my family… or both.

As things heat up between us, I’m left with one question: Can I keep my heart—and the people I care about—safe?

A spicy, small-town, bodyguard, fake relationship, grumpy-sunshine romantic comedy with a hint of danger and a lot of heart.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

There’s a knock on the door behind us, and it swings open, and—

Wow.

Yeah, this guy is not a blend-into-a-crowd type. He’s gotta be at least six five, and he fills up the doorway—weight-lifter muscles under a lovingly clinging tee, a torso that tapers from broad shoulders to a trim waist, and tree-trunk thighs beneath snug-fitting jeans. His jaw is a hard line to a well-defined chin; his eyes are flecks of pale blue ice; his nose is Roman-warrior-worthy, and his mouth is lush.

Did I say wow? Let me reiterate: Wow.

“Autumn, this is my brother, Tucker; Tucker, Autumn.”

I stand up. Giant White Guy grunts and extends a hand. Mine disappears into his, into heat and calluses and thick fingers that make me wonder—

Nope. Not wondering.

“Thanks so much for being willing to do this on short notice,” I say.

He grunts again.

Okay, so not a conversationalist. We’ll have to work on that because there is zero chance I would date a guy who isn’t a talker. My sister would never believe that.

“Anything you two need from me?” Hanna asks. “Or can you take it from here? I have to run a couple of errands.”

“That’s fine!” I say, hoping to warm him up a bit by being extra friendly, definitely one of my superpowers. “We’ll be great, right, Tucker?”

A grunt.

Not warm yet, but I can work on it.

She gives both of us a look that says she doubts we’ll be great, shoots Tucker another look that I interpret as Behave, and slips out the door.

“So!” I say brightly. “This is gonna be a cinch!”

He raises both eyebrows but doesn’t respond.

“Hanna told you about the discretion thing, right? That my sister can’t know that you’re a bodyguard, because she can’t know that my dad thinks there might be danger at her wedding?”

The grunts clearly have different meanings. I’m taking this one as a yes.

“But I don’t see that as a problem! Because”—I pause for effect—“you can pretend to be my date for the wedding week!”

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About Author Serena Bell:

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

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

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

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Mr. Emotionally Unstable: A Romantic Comedy

Alina Jacobs

 

Publication date: May 5th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Someone is breaking into my house… and cleaning my kitchen.
At first, I think I’ve lost my mind. Then I decide it’s kinda nice—until the death threats start.

But worrying about stalkers is for people with disposable time.
Which I do not have, thanks to my entire family showing up unannounced to move in with me.
Yay! Surprise houseguests!

As a mature adult woman in her thirties, my stalker is the closest thing to a relationship I’ve had in years. No one’s lining up for a curvy woman with a bad attitude, bras with holes in them, and zero tolerance for man-children.
And no, Mom, I don’t need you giving my number to every creepy guy you meet at the grocery store.
I’m perfectly happy being single. I have my café, my neurotic overweight border collie, and the shadowy figure peering into my window. I don’t need a man.
Except… I do need to find my newly single little sister a boyfriend-slash-meal-ticket so she (and the rest of my houseguests) will move out.
I’d toss her to my mystery stalker, but he did my laundry, and I’m not ready to give up on those perks yet. Besides, I’ve already got the perfect man for her: billionaire, hot, and way out of my league.
Better yet, I no longer have a crush on him, at least not since Fitzgerald Svensson served me eviction papers with a side of insults disguised as flirting.

Now he keeps showing up at my sister’s dates.
Yes, it’s a group activity. We’re recreating our toxic childhood dynamics here, m’kay?
Which means he must be interested… right?
Only problem—he’s hanging around me instead of her.

But it’s an even bigger problem when I wake up one night pinned by a six-foot-five male with his hand over my mouth, his knee spreading my legs, whispering in my ear, “Surprise, Creampuff.”

This is a standalone romantic comedy with a food delivery addicted dog, a hilarious Granny and a heroine of a certain age who has lowered her standards. HEA guaranteed!

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Enjoy this peek inside:

I follow their horrified gaze. “Creampuff,” I say, voice low, jaw locked so tight it might crack, “you sicced your granny on me? And here I thought you liked me.”

I’m not flirting.

I’m furious.

Because my lobby—my tower—is full of topless senior citizens with knitting needles, terrifying half my hotel clients. I take pride in my hotels. French antiques sourced myself, bespoke carpeting, and my hand-selected marble foyer backdrop a dozen bare breasts swaying like revolutionary flags.

“I’ve cast three hundred stitches of rage!” her grandmother roars, holding up a half-finished scarf like a battle banner.

“Get rid of them,” I snarl at her.

Winnie takes a nervous step back, eyes wide.

Good—she should be nervous.

“You stole my café,” she fires at me.

“And you threw coffee on me.” My voice is cold. Sharp. “Get these women out of my tower. Now.”

She hesitates. Like she’s considering taking their side.

Of course she is.

“Maybe they have a point,” she mutters.

I stare at her.

“Are you going to whip your shirt off and join them?” I snap.

Her face goes strawberry-jam red as my eyes drag—slowly—from her chest back to her mouth.

Her breath catches.

I feel it.

I ignore it.

“I wouldn’t. This is—we’re in public.”

I give her a sharp smile. “Do that,” I offer, “and I might let the protest continue.”

She swallows hard.

I step up to her, crowding her with my height. Sure, flirting’s fun, but this is business.

Her eyelashes flutter.

“And here I thought,” I say, “I was one of your biggest clients.”

Her face blanches. Sure, the fresh-pastry budget is an insignificant line item to me, but to her small business? It’s a lifeline.

She looks like she wants to die.

Good. Let her feel the pressure. She’s not the only one who can be cornered. If she loses this hospitality contract, she’s finished. We both know it.

But only I know that I won’t rip up the contract.

Set her free?

Never. She belongs to me. Wholly.

She just doesn’t realize it yet.

I follow her as she rushes toward her grandmother, my hands jammed in my pockets, in full control as I slowly trail her.

Over by the fireplace, two elderly women string up a knitted banner.

KNOTS NOT HOTELS!

“You need to grow a pair,” her granny is shouting at her. “You can’t let a man treat you like shit and still expect to hit that.”

My eyebrow lifts.

Winnie glances back at me. “He’s not hitting anything.”

“If you don’t get these half-naked elderly women out of my tower, I might.”

“Gran…” Winnie begs.

Her granny steps into my space, hands up for a fistfight.

“You’re a bully.”

“Booo!”

“Bread, not beds!”

“Crochet, don’t pay!”

The topless women encircle us.

I squeeze my eyes shut. If they’re not Winnie’s, I don’t want to see them.

“He acts like he’s never seen tits before,” Granny Frances huffs. “Maybe you should fuck the neighbor’s son, Winn.”

My eyes snap open. Straight to Winnie.

Heat. Anger. Something darker. “Is that why you refused to go on a date with me, Creampuff?”

Her chin lifts. “No. I refused because I hate you.”

I exhale, steady, even. Then I reach up and undo my tie. Watch her eyes bug out as she realizes what I’m doing.

“NO CROISSANTS, NO PEACE!”

I twist off my dress shirt. It’s not lost on me that her gaze slides down my face to my collarbone, down my chest, down…

The chanting starts to trail off.

“Are we sure he needs to be protested?”

,

About Author Alina Jacobs:

I write the kind of books I love—romantic comedies featuring snarly guys with hearts of gold, kick-ass heroines, and a swoon-worthy happily ever after! Also wine. And cupcakes.

When I’m not writing I can be found drinking tea, surrounded by my massive to-be-read pile! So many books…

You can connect with me on social media or find information on my books at my website.

Sign up for my newsletter so that you can get information about new releases, giveaways, and more!

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Shopping for a Highlander’s Baby

By Julia Kent

 

(Shopping for a Highlander, #4)
Publication date: March 30th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

The best early strike o’ ma life wasna on the pitch. It was in bed with Amy on our honeymoon.

Dinna ken how we turned our elopement, honeymoon, and conception into a hat trick, but there ye go.

One minute we’re swimming in champagne and red satin sheets, the next we’re staring at a due date that lands right when I’m supposed ta start my big sportscasting gig in London.

Amy’s glowing. She’s also got that fire in her — the kind that makes her tell my billionaire uncle exactly where ta shove his branding campaign, quit her job at eight months pregnant, and rearrange our entire life plan on a Tuesday.

The grandmums are suspiciously quiet, which is more terrifying than when they’re at each other’s throats.

Then it happens. The wee one decides ta make an entrance four weeks early — while I’m three thousand miles away, live on air, with a producer who willna let me leave.

So I do what any McCormick would do.

I coach ma wife through labor in one ear, commentate the match in the other, and let a billion people watch me choose my family over my career on live television.

It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s pure chaos.

It’s the match of our lives.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

Amy

Ceramic tile is hard and very cold.

I find that out when my toes turn into icicles as I stand holding a plastic wand that says PREGNANT, like the world’s bossiest fortune cookie.

PREGNANT

The condo holds the aroma of last night’s roasted garlic pizza, which felt like a good option at nine p.m. Now? Not so much. A breath of ocean air wafts in through the cracked-open window.

Boston hums outside.

Inside, I am a statue with messy sex hair and a pee stick screaming my future and… oh, my God.

The word grandmonsters rings through my head like Quasimodo clanging the Notre Dame cathedral bell. Our mothers ruined our wedding, crashed our elopement, and now here we stand, five weeks later, married and—

PREGNANT

I breathe in, out, forgetting the rhythm as my distracted brain tries to fill a whiteboard. An Airtable. Every Kanban board. All the Excel spreadsheets, every last one of them.

Hamish wraps around me from behind, lifting me before my feet realize it. He is warm and tall and smells like soap and sleep, and his forearms around my ribcage are so solid, so sure of where they belong, that my body gives up its panic and leans back into him before my brain can file an objection.

Beware the boundless optimism of a man who once insisted a vibrating bed should be on our wedding gift registry.

And that guests should throw quarters instead of rice.

“I canna believe it,” he says into my ear, voice hushed. “We’re havin’ a wee bairn.”

“Hi,” I say to my husband of five weeks, who hit the bullseye with the first married shot, dammit. “Yes. Apparently.”

Years ago, back when I hated him, I called Hamish “sex on a stick.”

Now I’m holding the sex stick, all right. I just never thought it would be white plastic and determine my fate.

Hamish lets go, walks away, and comes back into the bathroom carrying a chilled bottle of Champagne. It’s the bottle we brought back from our honeymoon in Love You, Maine, from the heart-shaped-everything suite. He holds it up, eyes shining.

“Breakfast o’ champions?”

“No, love.” I put my hand on his. “I can’t drink that now.”

A microsecond of confusion crosses his face, then he executes a pivot that would impress his old coach.

“Aye. Well then, coffee it is.” His auburn brows drop. “Unless ye canna have coffee?”

“I will always have coffee.”
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About Author Julia Kent:

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

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

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

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

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