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Love Next Door: A ‘90s Anthem Duet

By Eve Kasey & Melanie A. Smith

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

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Hazel is parked in a chair in front of her window, arms around her knees as if she needs the extra support. Our gazes collide across the space between us. Even with the tiny smile she offers, she looks small and lonely, and it breaks my heart.

There is no note. Just her.

After a long moment in which we just share space, she unwinds her arms and turns to her kitchen table. Her hair falls across her face as she scribbles out a note. I watch as she tucks long locks behind her ear, and wish it’s my fingers instead.

Coffee shop? her note says. She’s drawn a steaming mug beside the words.

I nod.

And wait.

Her next note is unexpected. I saw you at the grocery store yesterday.

My stomach flips. Seriously? In the same building twice in as many days? I wonder how often that’s happened without our knowledge. Maybe we’ve been circling around each other for months, just out of reach.

And? She’d seen me and done nothing about it. Why?

A bit of her sparkle returns as she shares a small, sly smile. And I still think you’re incredibly handsome.

I chuckle softly, but I won’t let her slide. Talk to me, Picasso.

Her smile fades. Nodding, she turns her attention back to her art supplies. Her words against the glass are navy blue and stark. It’s been an invisible day. Ever feel invisible?

I don’t. My size and coloring make me stand out. I’ve never felt invisible, but I’ve never truly felt seen, either. Not until eye contact with my neighbor was all I had.

I shake my head before bending down to write the next note. I may not have seen you, but I see you. I make the last three words bold, going over the letters several times. Then I make a second sign. You shine, Hazel. Even in the dark.

Thank you, she doodles out, including leaves and buds around the letters. Then another. You have a way of helping me heal. A broken heart held together by stitches.

“Killing me, Picasso,” I breathe. That is the greatest compliment she can give me, especially knowing what I do.

You get me through the day, Hazel. Even before I knew you, you were the reason I smiled.

She puts her hand on her heart, and I swear I feel myself fall.

Smiling, Hazel writes another note and holds it up to the window. Do I get to know your name?

With those words, I hit the earth.

I refuse to let my panic show on my face. Thinking quickly, I scrawl out a desperate reply. If you’ve named all your plants, I know you’ve named me, too. What do you call me?

She visibly cringes, and heaves an exaggerated sigh I can see across the alley and holds her confession up to the window.

Fred.

I blink. As in Flintstone? Why?

Hazel is slow to reply, but I don’t mind because I have her pursed lips and another peek of her clavicle to focus on. Because you’re too sexy for your shirt.

It takes a few seconds to process her words. Then I burst out laughing, harder than I have in weeks. Not Flintstone, then. Right Said Fred. The guy with the truly obnoxious song.

Still chuckling, I glance down at my exposed abs, loving that she appreciates my hard work, loving even more that “too sexy” is how she thinks of me.

Despite the crazy day, despite the secret I’m holding in my heart, I make sure that Hazel knows that the feeling is mutual.

I let desire take over every part of me, slowly, like a trickle of light rain. I allow heat into my gaze. Leaning forward on the shelf, I let my muscles pop and eyes roam. I take her in as I share my more lascivious thoughts through body language.

For her, I strip myself bare, deeper than flesh. I stop hiding how I see her. And I drink down what I witness across the way.

A flower opening in the sun.

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About The Authors:

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.

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.

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Silver Bells, Single Bed

By Paula Dombrowiak

(Hollow Reign, #2)
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

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“So,” she says. “Small problem.”

I cannot fathom any problem bigger than the one that’s currently happening in my pants at the sight of her.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in.” She wiggles the bag helplessly. “I didn’t exactly pack for two overnights. Everything in here is dance clothes. I can sleep in this, I guess.” She shakes her head and sets the bag down on the chair.

Jesus fuck, the universe is loving me today.

“You can’t sleep in your clothes.”

“Well, I think sleeping naked is out of the question,” she says, and I swear she’s not as innocent as she seems.

I clear my throat. “That’s not…” I dig through my duffel bag until I find a Hollow Reign concert t-shirt and hold it out to her. “Here. You can sleep in this.”

She hesitates a beat.

“It’s clean, I promise.”

Her fingers brush mine, small and soft as she takes it and brings it up to her nose. “Smells like you,” she smiles and then disappears back into the bathroom.

Fuck, get yourself together, Rhodes.

What would Casey do if he knew I was in a hotel room with his little sister right now, and that she was wearing my t-shirt? I press my forehead against the cold glass window and try to think about anything—my drum kit, my mom’s tamales, the tempo count on the new single, anything that isn’t Harper Beaumont pulling her sweater off on the other side of that door.

And I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her as she walks out of the bathroom wearing my shirt. Every coherent thought in my brain evaporates.

The neckline slips off one shoulder, and the hem hits the tops of her thighs, revealing soft, smooth legs. She pads over to her bag and stuffs her clothes inside.

“It’s a little big,” she says, pulling on the hem.

I swallow hard.

“Jesus, Harper,” I say, my voice rough. “Are you not wearing a bra?”

She looks down at herself, genuinely confused, then back up at me. “Of course not.” She shakes her head like that’s the stupidest question in the world. “It’s not comfortable to sleep in. Get over it.”

Get over it?

She says it the way another girl would say pass the salt. Like she has no idea what she’s doing to me. Like she hasn’t just rearranged the entire chemistry of the room by walking out of a bathroom in my shirt, her nipples visible through the material.

I scrub a hand down my face.

I grab a pillow off the bed and carry it to the armchair by the window. “I’ll take the chair. You take the bed.”

“Liam, that chair isn’t big enough for you to sleep in.”

“I’ll manage.”

She crosses to the bed and lies down on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching me with an expression I can’t read. The t-shirt rides up her thigh, and I swear to God I catch the edge of lace and the curve of her hip underneath before I have to physically drag my eyes off her.

I rearrange the pillow, trying to smash it into submission.

“Liam,” she says, getting my attention. She’s resting her cheek on her hand. Her hair is spilling across the white pillow, and she looks like a fucking wet dream. “Do you not feel safe in the bed with me?”

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About Author Paula Dombrowiak:

Paula Dombrowiak grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois but currently lives in Arizona. She is the author of Blood and Bone, her first adult romance novel which combines her love of music and imperfect relationships. Paula is a lifelong music junkie, whose wardrobe consists of band T-shirts and leggings which are perpetually covered in pet hair. She is a sucker for a redeemable villain, bad boys, and the tragically flawed. Music inspires her storytelling.

For more ways to learn about Paula and her books, check out her website: @www.pauladombrowiak.com

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The Champagne Crush

By Caroline O’ Connell

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

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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

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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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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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