Posts Tagged ‘comedy’

Mistle Text: ‘Twas the Text Before Christmas …
Whitney Dineen & Melanie Summers
(An Accidentally in Love Story, #5)
Publication date: September 25th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Holiday, Romance

Twas the text before Christmas…

Twenty-eight-year-old Holly Snow is the only mother her four-year-old niece remembers. Three years earlier, when her sister and brother-in-law were killed, Holly’s dream of becoming an international flight attendant was put on hold so she could be home for baby Faith. Holly is doing everything she can to keep the rent paid, including working as an online travel agent, filing medical claims, and cleaning apartments in her building. When her friend Maggie tells her that her boss needs someone to buy his Christmas gifts, she leaps at the opportunity.

Tall, dark and Scroogy, investment banker, Archibald Harrington is too busy to do his own Christmas shopping. When his assistant tells him she knows of a professional shopper, he happily checks another dreaded task off his holiday list. The last thing Archie is expecting is for his hired elf to text him insistently to find out more about the people on list. The last thing Holly expects is to develop feelings for grumpy man who’s stealing her Christmas spirit.

Will there be a Holiday miracle, or will Holly and Archie miss their chance at love? Find out in the fifth installment of the Accidentally in Love Series.

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Check out this peek inside:

“My boss needs a personal shopper for Christmas, and I’ve already told him I know the very best one in Manhattan.” Toni gives me an open-mouthed smile, clearly expecting me to jump up and down.

“Your boss. As in Archibald Snooty Pants the Forty-Second?” I ask, pursing my lips.

She opens her mouth, but I cut her off with one finger in the air. “You complain about the man all the time.”

“It’s not like he’s a horrible person, he’s just a one trick pony—all work and no play. Plus, it’s not like you’ll have to work side-by-side with him or anything. You probably won’t even have to see him.”

“I’m not a personal shopper,” I tell her. “Unless his family and friends want ramen noodles or discount t-shirts from the guy who sells them out of his trunk in front of my apartment building, I would have no idea what to buy.”

“Yeah, well, Archie doesn’t know that.” She pumps her eyebrows up and down like a comedian.

“Toni, you told me the guy was a rich stuck-up preppy from the Hamptons. While I would love nothing more than to make some extra money, I don’t have the foggiest notion how to shop for rich people.”

“So watch some holiday episodes of Real Housewives and see what they buy each other. He’ll tell you how much to spend on each person. Come on, Holl, it’s not brain surgery. It’s shopping. You know how to shop. And you need the money.”

“What if he hates me?” I despise feeling so pathetic, but I’m totally out of my league here.

“Then he hates you. So what? Believe me when I tell you, Archibald Harrington only thinks about work. You can’t take anything he says personally.”

Dread slams into me like a wrecking ball. “How much do you think I can make?”

“Enough to pay for Christmas and at least the next three months of Faith’s preschool tuition. How can you pass that up?”

The answer is, I can’t. And if it means working for a cranky billionaire, then Toni is right. I’ll do whatever I have to do in order to take care of Faith. I just can’t guarantee I’ll like it.

“Fine,” I tell her. “How many gifts am I supposed to buy?”

“He’ll need all of his family gifts, which include his godfather’s family. He’s spending Christmas with them in Newport. He wants you to cover his business gifts, as well. The VIPs are starred, meaning those particular gifts need to be extra-amazing. I’ve also made you a list of everything that I want, so I don’t wind up with another Monte Blanc pen. I’ve already sold three of those suckers on eBay and I only get a fraction of what they’re worth.”

“I don’t even know what a Monte Blanc pen is.” My chest tightens like I’m not getting enough oxygen.

She hands me a piece of paper. “This is a list of websites to check out. You can order everything and have it delivered here.”

“Why can’t I just have everything sent to his office? What am I going to do with it?”

After taking a healthy swig of white zinfandel, Toni says, “You’re going to wrap everything up and make it look like Santa himself cracked the whip on the gift-wrapping elves. Once you have everything purchased and ready, I’ll send a car to pick the gifts up.”

“You’ll send a car, will you?” I tease.

“Yeah, well, I can do those fancy things in the name of my boss.”

“How am I going to pay for everything?” I ask. “I have about two hundred dollars of credit left on my card. I don’t think that’s going to cut it.”

Toni opens her purse and hands me a shiny black credit card. “There’s no limit, so if you don’t mind doing a little jail time, you could have a lot of fun.”

“No limit? I can’t imagine such a thing.” I fantasize about what damage I could do with plastic like this. Not only could I pay for Faith’s school for the rest of the year, but I could also get my mom into one of those nursing homes that has a hair salon and restaurant. I could upgrade to a two-bedroom apartment so Faith doesn’t have to sleep in the closet anymore, and I could even splurge and buy myself some real leather gloves.

“You’re imagining, aren’t you?” Toni jolts me out of my daydream.

“I most certainly am. The first thing I’d do is buy Faith whatever winter coat she wanted and then I’d take her out to a nice restaurant.”

Toni rolls her eyes. “If you’re going down for a crime, you’ve got to think bigger.”

I stare at the card for a second, then look back up at Toni. “How can you stand working for someone who has so much? Don’t you just want to steal cash out of his wallet once in a while?” I don’t really have the heart of a felon, I’m just tired of always being broke.

“The nice thing about Archie is that even though he has the personality of a killer shark, he’s generous. He has a Friday lunch catered for his staff every week, and he makes sure to float us enough extras that none of us are tempted to steal from him. He’s a good businessman.”

“Even though he’s a stuck-up preppy?” I ask for clarification.

“Exactly.”

I look at the list of stores she thinks I should shop at—Tiffany’s, Saks Fifth Avenue, Harrods, The House of Bijan … “What’s my budget?”

She hands me another piece of paper. The handwriting isn’t hers, so I’m guessing it’s Archie’s. “He wants me to spend four thousand dollars on his mother?!”

“Yup. He wants her to have two gifts. One of them needs to be the main. The other can be fancy ass chocolates or something.”

“Right, but probably not gas station chocolates.”

“Quit stressing, Holls, you’ve got this.”

I don’t know why, but for the life of me I can’t see this ending well…

Author Bio:

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries — not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

Author links:

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Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.

Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.

In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally – then she’ll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for ‘K’ Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn’t require makeup and/or nylons).

Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she’s not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something–more like just staying until they turn the lights off.

She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.

Author links:

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Vic Vaughn is Vicious
J.A. Huss
Publication date: August 31st 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

My name is Vicious. God-given name, I cross my heart.

And it fits.

I’m a hot-as-f, inked-up tattoo artist at the trendiest shop in the Rocky Mountains.

I have the looks, I have the bike, I have the reputation.

That means I get the ladies.

Sure. There are lots of women out there who hate tattoos. Wouldn’t be caught dead with guys like me. And that’s fine. I’m not looking for girls like that.

I’m looking for that other kind of girl.

The wild one, the bad one, the crazy one.

Funny thing is… the one I fell for isn’t that girl.

She’s the Good Girl.

And maybe back when she was nineteen I came off as a ‘maybe’, but after seven years of distance I am now the definition of ‘not a keeper’.

But I can be a keeper.

I can make the good girl swoon.

I can be the dream guy she never saw coming.

If she would just… not press charges… I’m pretty sure I can turn this whole relationship around.

Vic Vaughn is Vicious is a bad-boy-trying-his best-to-win-her-back romantic comedy about a misunderstood tattoo-artist-biker called Vicious and a good girl named Daisy who ghosted him seven years ago after she came to her senses. It’s filled with funny twists, dreams of grandeur, and all seven members of the most inappropriate family in all of Colorado.

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IMPORTANT! The eBook will release a day early on Nook, Apple, and KOBO (August 30th) and then IMMEDIATELY BE TAKEN OFF SALE so that Vic Vaughn is Vicious can go directly into Kindle Unlimited.
This book WILL ONLY BE AVAILABLE ON AMAZON after August 30th.

Enjoy this peek inside:

“Wanna go out there?” he asks me.

I don’t know what to say. I mean, not particularly. I don’t want to go out there. I want to stay in here with him.

I want to study every inch of this room.

I want to know this man.

Turning away from the open doors, I shake my head a little and once again concentrate on all the things in this space that give away hints to who and what he is.

The bed is just a mattress set on top of stacks of wooden pallets. It’s not made. But that just makes it more interesting, not less. His sheets and pillowcases are light gray satin, but his comforter is a dark gray luxurious velvet. I can only imagine what it feels like to sleep in his bed with those two contrasting textures on either side of your body.

Then I picture what it would feel like to lie next to him in that bed. To be his.

I let out a breath and allow my eyes to wander up the wall where there are more framed pictures. Magazine covers. Tattoo magazine covers, specifically.

And his face.

Vic Vaughn is Vicious, the cover in the center reads.

He’s standing next to me and I cannot stop the quick rotation of my head in his direction as I realize just who I am with. “You’re… him.”

“Him?” He smiles coyly. Then he nods his chin at the magazine covers. “I’m him. Wanna run away now?”

I shake my head, then whisper, “Not a chance.”

He closes the short distance between us, slipping behind me. And when his lips lower down to the exposed skin on the back of my neck, I have to suck in a breath and try my best not to shiver. His fingertips slide up my arms and then he slips them back down, taking my coat along for the ride. I turn to face him just as he slips his jacket off too. Then he walks over to a large, open closet and hangs them both on wooden hangers.

I don’t know why this simple act makes me tingle all over, but it does.

And he knows it does. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Way too old for you. What about you? Wanna admit to it?”

Not sure if I do. But I say it anyway. “Nineteen. Do you want me to leave now?”

“I think I want you to stay forever.”


Author JA Huss:

JA Huss is a New York Times Bestselling author and has been on the USA Today Bestseller’s list 21 times. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings. Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world. Her book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019.

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An Officer and The Vet
Freda Ann
(A Bliss Cay Novella, #4)
Publication date: August 2nd 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

College sweethearts, Sam and Isla, were crazy in love and looked forward to a life together. That was until his father died suddenly in a tragic accident.

The news sent Sam into a tailspin causing him to spiral out of control. After telling Isla, the woman he hoped to marry, he never wanted to see her again, he hit rock bottom.

Pulling his life together more than a year later, he realizes nothing will ever be the same without his one true love…Isla. Finally locating where she moved to for Vet school, he shows up to beg her forgiveness only to find her kissing her soon to be husband.

Twelve years later, Sergeant Sam Wolfe’s police K-9, Blue, was shot on-duty and suffers from PTSD. Unbeknownst to Sam, his Lieutenant arranged for Isla, the best trauma Vet in Florida, to take over Blue’s care while Sam is on vacation with his son in Bliss Cay.

When they see each other again, neither are prepared for what the summer holds. As Isla helps Blue through his physical and emotional traumas, her and Sam’s worlds collide as skeletons are unearthed changing their lives forever.

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“This is Dr. Jensen.” I answer the call that my office manager and best friend put on hold for me.

“Dr. Jensen, this is Lieutenant Vasquez with Colton P.D. I oversee our K-9 Unit. A month ago one of our dogs was shot on-duty and he’s still recovering from the shoulder injury, both mentally and physically.”

“Ah, yes, that was Blue, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“What can I help you with, Lieutenant?”

“Well, Blue and his handler, Sergeant Sam Wolfe, will be staying in Bliss Cay this summer for a much needed vacation. Since Blue is still under the care of our local Vet for his injury and PTSD, he’ll need to continue his course of treatment while there. Dr. Jensen, you came highly recommended, and I’m hoping you’ll take point with his care while in Bliss.”

It’s not often I’m speechless, but this is one of those times. Sam Wolfe is coming to Bliss and his boss wants me to take over his dog’s care…for two long months? I’m supposed to be in the same tiny room with my past all summer?

“Dr. Jensen, you still there? Hello?”

“I—I’m here. Sorry, one of my patients got loose.”

“Would you rather call me back?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I got her.” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head after lying to the police. It was only a little white lie, right? Get it together, Isla.

“So, what do you say? Will you help a police dog in need?”

How can I say no when he puts it like that? Plus…it’s Sam’s dog. “I’ll do it.” I blurt out before changing my mind.

“Wonderful! We really appreciate your assistance. I have to tell you, Blue’s had a pretty rough time the last month, not to mention Sergeant Wolfe. Since the shooting, the two have been inseparable.”

“Really, it’s no problem at all. It’s my job and I’m happy to help in any way I can. So, uh, when will Sergeant Wolfe and Blue be arriving in Bliss?”

“They’ll be there Sunday—and if it’s okay, Sam will stop by your office on Monday to meet you and go over a treatment schedule that works for everyone.”

“So—Sergeant Wolfe doesn’t know I’ll be caring for Blue while they’re here?” I don’t know why I even asked that, it’s unlikely he knows my married name.

“Well, he knows of you, but I wanted to get your approval before I told him you agreed to take Blue on as a patient. I know he’ll be relieved since I mentioned your credentials. He loves that dog as much as he loves his son.”

Son? Sam has a kid? My pulse accelerates at the realization. Clearing my throat, I ask, “I assume his family will be joining him for the summer?” Thump-thump, thump-thump, my heart pounds in my chest. He’s your past Isla.

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Author Freda Ann

Freda was born in southern New Jersey but grew up in Florida. She has loved writing her entire life. After retiring from a career in law enforcement, she knew it was time to fulfill her lifelong dream of being a published author.

She’s the author of The Hawaii Series, proudly named from her love of the beautiful Hawaiian Islands. It’s a three-book series with all of them written as standalone books.

Freda loves her large family, horses, dogs, cat, and close friends. She hosts monthly family dinners at her home in the country, which she shares with her husband.

She loves baking (she owned and operated a cupcake business for years), cooking, yoga, crocheting, nature and traveling with the love of her life.

What helps her write? Music makes her happy! If music doesn’t give her the right motivation, she puts on a romantic movie, usually from the Hallmark Channel, which she can’t get enough of!

Freda speaks her mind and pushes perfection to its limit. She strives to be her best, most positive self she can be in life. With time, determination, and practice, she believes anything is possible.

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Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour for Gracie & Zeus organized by Goddess Fish Promotions.

A randomly drawn winner will receive a $25 Amazon/B&N GC. Don’t forget to enter.

And you can click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Gracie & Zeus Live The Dream

by Elizabeth Roderick

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Synopsis

Grace Morgan has been on the music scene long enough to know the life of sex, drugs & rock & roll is just a dream. But after a messy divorce, Grace wants to give her dream of being a music journalist one last shot.

She moves to LA with her 21-year-old foster son, Zeus. They live in a motel on cup noodles and hope, until Grace finally gets a break: a story about Inez Carter, hot-mess frontwoman of the popular band Karma Korn.

The story delivers more sex, drugs and rock & roll than Grace bargained for. Karma Korn’s drummer, Nelson, has Grace rethinking her post-divorce vow of celibacy. And after they’re invited to an elite Hollywood rave, where they mistakenly drink the electric Kool-Aid, Zeus is scouted to be the lead guitarist for another star band.

However, the story soon goes sideways, and things aren’t adding up. Someone is spreading rumors about Grace, trying to sabotage her career and reputation. Then someone tries to kill her. Grace is left frantically trying to connect the dots in the dwindling hope she’ll be able to salvage the story, her relationship with Nelson, and her life.

Enjoy this peek inside:

Zeus crafted an impossibly good song out of nothing as he swung back and forth on his knees, making the chandelier sway. His song’s hook was completely nonderivative, and perfect enough to make Grace’s scalp tingle. It wasn’t until Zeus caught her eye again and broke out in a wide grin that she realized she was smiling like a maniac. He pursed his lips at her in an exaggerated rock-n-roll face and played the final chords, letting them squeal. As they died away, the crowd broke out in cheers, stomping for more.

Zeus swung himself upright and dropped to the ground, the guitar held gently in one hand. He gave it to Nicholson, who looked at it like he’d never seen it before. People pressed forward to mob Zeus, patting him on the back, giving him hugs, but he ambled through them to stand before Grace with his hands in his pockets. He broke into a beatific grin. “I’m so high right now.”

Grace laughed, tears rolling down her face. “That was awesome. But you’re so stupid.” She smacked him on the shoulder. “Why do you do things like that?”

He shrugged. “Even orangutans like to play guitar sometimes.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. There was a streak of movement. Zeus’s eyes went wide as Inez crashed into him, pressing her lips to his in a drunken kiss. Nicole, still standing in the DJ booth, looked on with a hurt expression. Duke appeared out of the crowd and pulled Inez away, leaving Zeus looking ruffled but pleased with himself.

About Author Elizabeth Roderick:

Elizabeth Roderick is the author of Gracie & Zeus Live the Dream a romantic comedy meets cozy mystery released by Cinnabar Moth Publishing LLC May 11, 2021 as well as many short stories in various anthologies.

She and her daughter help run a small, diversified farm in Eastern Washington. She is a musician and songwriter, and has played in many bands—mostly guitar, bass and keyboards.

Elizabeth’s stories are about love, death, gang warfare, and madness, with characters of the type that society generally shuns: addicts, convicts, and the neurodivergent. She is a neurodivergent person and a disability rights activist.

Elizabeth believes if people get to know those who live on the fringes of society, both in stories and in real life, they’ll find them more likeable than they originally thought.

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Can’t Tie Me Down!
Janet Elizabeth Henderson
(Sinclair Sisters, #1)
Publication date: April 22nd 2018
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis

There aren’t many jobs available in the tiny village of Arness, Scotland, which is why Mairi Sinclair works online—as a virtual girlfriend. For a weekly fee, she emails, messages and sends photos to desk-bound geeks around the world. Nothing dodgy, mind you, she keeps her clothes on! Mairi loves her job, because the last thing she wants is to be tied down to one man forever. Life is so much simpler when you can keep men at a distance.

And that’s why she’s upset when her virtual boyfriends start turning up in town. Someone has hacked her online presence and given out her real life address. To make matters worse, they’ve told the world that she’s looking for a husband and the first virtual boyfriend to romance her properly will win the role in real life. Mairi needs help to fend off the hordes. She needs help to hide and find out who sold out her details. Fortunately, local mechanic and one time boyfriend, Keir McKenzie, is more than willing to help her—for a price. He too wants a chance to win Mairi’s heart and tie her down forever.

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Because at eight thirty on a Saturday morning, she opened her front door to find Captain Kirk smiling at her—a five-foot-four Pakistani Captain Kirk.

“You are surprised.” He beamed. “This is good.”

Mairi blinked several times, but no, he was still there. “Amir?”

“Who else would it be on this fine Scottish morning?” He tugged at the hem of his gold captain’s uniform.

“Amir? In Scotland? At my house?”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Mairi needed a minute. She held up her hand. “Just a sec.” And shut the door.

“Who was that?” One of Mairi’s three older sisters, Agnes, was dressed for a shift working reception at a hotel in Campbeltown. She wore a navy pantsuit, black heels and a crisp white shirt. Her golden blonde hair was in a neat French knot, and her makeup was minimal. She looked every inch the hotel manager she aspired to be, and no doubt would be, once she’d passed her final exams. “Mairi, pay attention. Who’s at the door?”

“Amir.” Mairi wondered if more coffee would help her brain cope with finding one of her online boyfriends on her doorstep.

“Amir who?” Agnes headed for the kitchen alcove in their living area.

“He’s an online boyfriend.”

Agnes stopped dead and turned slowly toward her. “One of your geeks is here? In person?”

Mairi nodded.

“How does he know your address? I thought the agency you work with said those details would never get out. I thought all those guys were supposed to stay firmly online.”

“Yeah.” There was nothing else to say.

About Author Janet Elizabeth Henderson

Janet is a Scot who moved to New Zealand fifteen years ago. Among other things, she’s been an artist, a teacher, a security guard at a castle, a magazine editor, and a cleaner in a drop in center for drug addicts (NOT the best job!). She now writes full-time and is working on her 19th book. Her books have won several awards, including the Daphne du Maurier award for excellence in mystery and suspense. When she isn’t living in her head, she raises two kids, one husband, and several random animals. She survives on chocolate and caffeine.

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Feisty
Julia Kent
(Do-Over Series, #3)
Publication date: January 28th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis

I’m not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland.

Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends.

So what is Chris “Fletch” Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he’s pattern matching a picture to find a real person he’s never met before?

Oh.

Oh, no.

The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.

That’s right.

Feisty.

More from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent as Fiona “Feisty” Gaskill gets her chance at love – drop-kick included.

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Enjoy this peek inside:

My lungs have decided that the world is too dangerous to make a move, utter a sound, do anything. I’m frozen, the pulse inside me growing stronger as time ticks away. My own shut-down system is the barrier to oxygen. The disconnect between what my body needs and what my tattered psyche can handle is causing my overload to leak out in a really obvious way.

“Fiona?” Josh says, shaking me gently, Michelle looking to him for certainty.

And then suddenly, Josh is out of my sight, replaced by two clear, calm, green eyes, light brown hair, and hands that feel like anchors.

“Feisty? Feis–Fiona?” Fletch corrects. The sudden pivot to using my proper name is jarring, given the fact that every atom in the world is buzzing inside my ears and nothing anyone does will help me to breathe.

I make a strange sound. I know it’s strange because his eyebrows turn down in the middle, his facial muscles pushing them low enough to show concern.

Concern for me.

“Breathe,” he says slowly as he puts one hand on my diaphragm, fingers warm and firm.

I make a sound to indicate that I am confused and the speech centers in my brain have shut down. Empathy floods me as I realize this is exactly what my student with severe apraxia, little Myles, must feel like when he loses his words under extreme stress. For years, I’ve said “use your words” to four-year-olds having anxiety fits.

Never again.

“Breathe, Fiona,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to demonstrate, his belly expanding in a comical way, though I know his technique is strong. Hypnotic and commanding, his voice and body tell me what to do, guide me back from being lost in the woods to a cleared trail where I can find my footing, take a rest, and possibly feel safe again, knowing I can find my way home.

I inhale, the insides of my nostrils cold, the air hitting my nasal passages a welcome assault, diaphragm spasming and sputtering back to life.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against the curl of my ear, his breath like coffee, his hard forearm muscles all I can see, the ripped cord of his strong lines drawing my gaze. “You just breathe. It’s over now. You did it. You saved them. It’s okay to breathe.” He inhales, then slowly exhales. “Let’s do this together now.”

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 19 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing in 2020 and beyond.

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.

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Eventually Evie

by Cat Lavoie

Publication date: January 4th 2021
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis

How are you supposed to get your life back on track when the Universe won’t stop messing with you?

After a series of personal and professional setbacks, interior designer Evie Glass has lost faith in herself and the world. The last thing she needs is her loud, boisterous family poking their noses in her business, so that’s why she avoids opening up about anything—especially her love life—during their weekly dinners. Thankfully, her bestie and next-door neighbor, Matilda, always has her back.

When Evie is asked to cat-sit Matilda’s beloved rescue, she’s not thrilled at the prospect. One well-meaning mistake later and a distraught Evie is rushing her furry charge to the ER where she meets and is instantly smitten with Fletcher West, a charming veterinarian who seems to return her interest. That is until they both realize they’ve met before—ten years ago when he was dating her temperamental cousin. Fletch’s break-up with Bee put him at the top of her family’s hit list and makes him the last person Evie should be dating.

In addition to navigating a secret romance with Fletch, Evie must also deal with a demanding new job, an eccentric client from her former life, and an ex who’s suddenly blowing up her phone. She convinces herself she’s got it all under control, but what happens when things start falling apart and Evie learns she’s not the only one keeping secrets?

One thing’s for sure…

Eventually Evie’s got to take a chance—on love, on life, and on herself.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

Text to Matilda:

Someone just threw a meatball at my face. Talk about kicking a girl when she’s down. Rescue me?

I don’t know what I did to piss off the Universe, but she’s had it in for me for a while. And because of her latest stunt, I now have bits of ground beef stuck in my hair and Aunt Pina’s famous tomato sauce streaking my face and shirt. You could easily mistake me for an extra on the set of a mediocre horror film—one who just realized her real life will never be the quirky rom-com she desperately wants it to be. This is not what I signed up for. Who approved these script changes?

It’s my fault for allowing myself to get distracted. I sent an urgent text to Matilda, my best friend, over twenty minutes ago, and I was just checking my phone to see if she answered—she hadn’t. And then a three-year-old sniper attacked me.

My cousin Frankie’s son has been going through a phase where he throws everything that isn’t glued down as if he’s trying out for the Yankees. I’m his favorite target, so I need to stay on my toes when he’s around. Thank goodness he’s adorable and I’m a sucker for dimples. All of my adult family members are too busy screaming at each other to notice—or punish—the meatball-throwing toddler. Their voices are getting louder and louder, and even though I love everyone sitting at this table, I sometimes wish my family enjoyed the sound of silence a little bit more.

But the scene before me is completely normal. All the sharp objects on the table will be used to eat a delicious dinner, not to stab someone in the heat of the moment. Despite the loud voices and animated gestures, no one is angry.

In fact, it’s a joyous occasion. My cousin Bianca—Bee to friends and family—has just announced she’s getting married. Obviously, the earth has stopped spinning on its axis at the very news and the presses have screeched to a halt. It’s also my birthday today, but my measly milestone has once again been eclipsed by something involving Bee. It’s almost become a beloved family tradition, and I’m so used to her claiming all the attention for herself that I can’t be mad at Bee. I’m not in the mood for attention anyway.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Bee is holding up a bunny-eared iPhone so we can see a picture of the ring Mike is going to buy her—a princess cut diamond surrounded by two smaller pink stones on a white gold band. I crane my neck to get a closer look. As per the ring website, this model is their biggest seller and a wonderful way to tell her you want to spend all of eternity by her side. Gag me. But why isn’t the ring on her finger?

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Hold on a minute,” my cousin Fabrizio says between bites of crusty bread dripping in the extra virgin olive oil one of my uncles brings back from Italy every year. “Why am I looking at a picture of this ring on your phone? Shouldn’t it be on your finger?” He’s clearly reading my thoughts. (And he’s also spewing crumbs with every word, but we’re on opposite sides of the table, so I’m safe. Aunt Pina—not so much.)

Bee flicks her long, chocolate-colored hair off her shoulder and gives her brother a stern look. “We’re not technically engaged yet. But it’s going to happen. Soon. We’re just waiting for the ring to be delivered.” It’s obvious by her narrowed eyes that follow-up questions will not be accepted at this time.

It takes all the willpower in the world for me not to groan in annoyance. Does Mike know he’s just a UPS delivery window away from proposing? And won’t he wonder why no one is surprised when Bee makes her official announcement?

“You’re going to make a beautiful bride.” Aunt Pina—one of my mother’s four sisters—can’t get the words out without choking up, and she brings a linen napkin to her face to delicately wipe away a tear. Bee is her only daughter—a much-prayed-for miracle baby after five boisterous sons—and her wedding day has been planned since the second she was born. It will be a night fit for a princess—a big fat Italian wedding to top all other big fat Italian weddings. Every single guest will marvel at how delicious the food was, how gorgeous the bride looked in her designer dress, how no expense was spared from the finest champagne to a dessert table guaranteed to induce a diabetic coma and widespread jealousy and envy.

 

Author Cat Lavoie

Cat Lavoie is a chick lit writer from Montreal, Canada.
She loves writing fun and quirky romantic comedies and is the author of BREAKING THE RULES, ZOEY & THE MOMENT OF ZEN, PERI IN PROGRESS and MESSING WITH MATILDA.

A fan of all things feline, Cat loves cats and hopes to someday have a house full of them in order to officially become a crazy cat lady. (But one or two cats will do for now.)

If she isn’t reading or writing, Cat enjoys listening to podcasts (mostly comedy and true crime) and watching way too much TV. She fell in love with London many years ago and hopes to go back one day. Cat is currently at work on her next novel.

To connect with Cat and find out more about her books, visit CatLavoie.com and follow @CatLavoieBooks on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

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Ain’t She Sweet
Whitney Dineen
(Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2)
Publication date: December 15th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis

Tara Heinz began her modeling career at the tender age of twelve. After spending fifteen years drooling over forbidden foods, she does the unthinkable. She enrolls in culinary school and becomes a pastry chef.

After a nasty breakup with her rock star boyfriend that leads to tabloid war, Tara takes a job at a rural lodge in Oregon to escape the spotlight she no longer desires.

James Cavanaugh is a farmer in Oregon. His days are spent building his business and his nights are spent sleeping, so he can get up at four in the morning.

Ruby Cavanaugh has plans for her son that involve her new pastry chef. Of course, neither James nor Tara know what’s going on until it’s too late.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside:

After arranging an assortment of gourds on her newspaper-covered dining room table, Ruby picks up her telephone to call her oldest son, Brogan. “How are you and Addie doing?” she wants to know. As the first recipients of her matchmaking endeavor, the success of their union is integral to her confidence in setting up her younger son, James, with her new pastry chef.

“She’s great. We’re great. New York is beautiful in the fall.”

Whoever said glitter was the herpes of the crafting world never fully appreciated its hypnotic effects, Ruby thinks while spraying gold glitter paint. “I knew you two were meant to be.”

“I don’t know how you decided that, but I’m glad you did. For a while there I thought you were trying to set Addison up with James. Speaking of which, how are things going between him and Tara?”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asks, trying—and failing—to sound innocent.

“Don’t try to tell me you haven’t set your sights on her for my little brother.”

After several moments, Ruby dejectedly confesses, “It’s been hard finding ways to throw them together now that James’s farmstand is mostly closed for the season. I’ve had to resort to hiring your brother to put in a garden here at the lodge.”

“Interesting. I’m not sure I should offer, but let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“You and Addie are still coming home for Christmas, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. We arrive the second week of December and are planning on staying until the first week of March. I’ll be working on my new novel and Addie is going to commute to a hotel she’s redesigning in Portland.”

Ruby walks around the table, eyeing her decorative fall creation before firing off a final burst of sparkle. “I might need your help then. In the meantime, don’t bring up Tara’s name when you talk to James. I don’t want him to guess what I’m up to until it’s too late.”

“You make me nervous, Mom, but you did such a great job for me that I promise not to interfere in your latest project.”

“Good. Now, I’ve got to go. Your brother will be here any minute to meet with Tara about the dessert portion of the garden.”

“Does he know he’s meeting with her?” Brogan asks.

“Of course not. What fun would that be? Bye!” Ruby hangs up on her son before he has a chance to reply. After refreshing her lipstick and picking invisible lint from her sweater, she’s off to make another love connection.

 

About Author Whitney Dineen

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries — not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers’ Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

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#Surviving40
Karen Anne
Publication date: August 25th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synsopsis

Piper Quinn was more than ready to turn forty. So ready she began planning her Parisian celebration at thirty-five. That is until her life fell apart at thirty-nine. Left staring at divorce papers, Piper instantly regrets signing that pre-nup. How was she to know her husband would turn her in for a younger model?

After “accidentally” setting her Manhattan apartment on fire, Piper finds herself not only newly divorced, but newly homeless. Forced to move back home with her parents and take a job she doesn’t want, she soon discovers the gossip train in town moves faster than the subway system in New York—and she’s the hottest topic to leave the station. If matters weren’t bad enough, life in rural Connecticut seems downright claustrophobic when her sixteen year old daughter stops talking to her.

A blast from her past is the spark Piper needs to reignite her life. Owen Clarke, an old high school flame has the ability to turn back time making Piper feel sixteen again. The instant chemistry between them gives Piper hope of redeeming her second act. There’s only one teeny, tiny three foot problem: Owen’s daughter is in Piper’s Kindergarten class. With temptation lurking in every corner, Piper needs to put her emotions—and hormones— in check.

No one said getting older was easy, but turning forty just became a game of survival.

Goodreads / Amazon

~~~~~

Enjoy this peek inside

#SurvivalTip: It’s not stalking if you show your face.

I was a glutton for punishment. No doubt in my mind I was in over my head and needed professional help. I had driven to the yoga studio in the next town where Avery taught. Now, I sat in my car, engine still running, willing myself to get the hell out. I watched her through the window. She was in a hot pink sports bra and soft grey leggings. Her hair was in its signature ponytail. There was a bounce in her step as she walked around the empty space of the studio pouring oil into the diffusers. She was in her zen arena, and I had no rational way of explaining my motive other than this woman had Owen and walked away. Why? There had to be something twisted inside her. Some narcissism or schizophrenia that would compel her to leave a man who was pretty close to perfect.

Convinced I had boarded the train to crazy town, I knew I had to get out of here before she saw me. A rap on my window caused me to jump and let out a yelp. I turned to my left, horrified to see Holly standing outside my car door. I lowered my window. “Oh my God! I thought that was you! What are you doing here?” She was practically bouncing.

“Um, Avery had invited me a few times, but my stomach is a little funky… bad sushi… so I think I’m going to head out.”

“Nonsense. Yoga is great for the digestive system. Come on, you’re going to freak over this class. Avery is amazing. You’ll love her.”
I doubted it, but could see no way out, so with a heavy heart, I cut my engine and followed Holly into the studio.

“Avery! Look who I found outside!” Holly grabbed my arm as if I might run away if she didn’t hold on to me. I didn’t blame her. There was a good chance I would flee at the first opportunity. Like a cat in an alley, scouring out the corners, looking for a place to hide, I was in full blown feral mode. If Avery came too close, there was a good chance I’d scratch her.

Avery was overjoyed to see me, her mouth agape as she waved her arms. It was exactly how a cult leader would look if they were trying to lull me into a false sense of security. Her eyes were the size of saucers as she ran over to me, and her beautiful features suddenly held an alien quality to them.

“No way!” She pulled me into a deep hug. Damn this chick was solid. She was smaller than me, and it freaked me out, because I was pretty sure she could kick my ass. “I can’t believe you came! This is amazing. I’m telling you, after tonight, you will be hooked, right, Holly?”

“She’s so right. I swear if I miss a session, my body is quick to let me know—total withdrawal. I need this every week.”

“Have you taken yoga before, Ms. Quinn?”

“You can call me Piper.” It was clear they were all on a first name basis, and I didn’t want to be the old lady rigid in formality. I sized up Avery, trying to decipher how old she was. Owen was my year in school so we were the same age, but this woman, with her flawless skin that had never seen the sun without being protected in SPF 50, was still soaking in the glory of a body that was barely three decades old. “Not really. A few times here or there, but nothing too advanced. I’m not very flexible,” I admitted.

“Well, flexibility comes with practice, and that’s what this is. I don’t see it as exercise so much as a way of life.” Damn she was serious. “I need water every day. I need food, I need sleep. I also need yoga.”
I currently needed a plastic bag to vomit in. This chick was too poster perfect, and the more she spoke, the more inadequate I became.
Avery glanced at her watch. “Oh! Showtime! Let’s find a spot on the floor and settle in.”

There were at least ten other women in the room, and so I walked toward the back, but Holly grabbed my arm and told me to sit next to her. She unfurled her yoga mat, and that’s when I realized I hadn’t brought one.
“I don’t have a mat.” The words were low, and I imagined I sounded like one of my students saying they didn’t have a crayon to color the picture. I didn’t have a mat because I didn’t expect to actually enter the studio. I put on leggings and a tank top like it was a costume, the intention to workout wasn’t real. It was cosplay, nothing more.

“Avery has extra.” Holly jogged over to the corner and pulled a grey mat from the box. She laid it out in front of me, revealing the turquoise lotus flower that was printed in the center. I thanked Holly and sat on the lotus flower, copying Avery, who was now seated on the floor.

“Welcome back everyone.” Avery’s voice was silky smooth.
She’d be great as a phone sex operator. Hell, I’d pay a dollar a minute to see what she had to say. I could only imagine the lewd comments that voice had whispered into Owen’s attentive ears over the years. The hair on the back of my neck bristled at the thought.

Avery folded her legs in front of her in a way I referred to in kindergarten as “pretzel style” and took a few deep breaths. Her eyes were closed, and I soon became aware that everyone around me had also closed their eyes, trusting Avery’s voice to take them on this meditative journey. That was asking a lot of me, but not about to be caught staring at her, I closed my eyes and tried my best to breathe in a way that was not natural at all.

The breathing lasted a long time, and although I was supposed to be letting my thoughts melt away and empty my mind of heaviness, I was too busy burying myself in clutter as I tacked up insecurity after insecurity. The anxiety reached new heights when we were actually expected to transition from breathing to different animal poses. I didn’t know I’d have to be a cat, cow, cobra, and dog all in one flow. We were moving from downward dog to plank to cobra when Avery tilted her head, got up, and walked over to me. Crap. I was doing something wrong.

“Come back up to downward facing dog.” I did as she instructed and was surprised when she came behind me and held my hips. “Okay, you want to open up your hips more, spread your legs a bit wider, and really fall back into this stretch.” She kept one hand on my left hip, her right hand rested gently on my back. I hoped I wasn’t sweaty.

“Your goal is to have your heels touch the ground. It won’t happen right away.” She got beside me, mimicking the proper pose. My hamstrings were burning, which caused my legs to tremble. The blood rushed to my head; I raised my gaze and caught what we looked like in the mirror. It was a bad decision. The mirror only exposed how I felt— disoriented and in physical pain, while Avery bent over beside me, modeling the pose with ease.

“You want your body to become an upside down V. See?” I nodded and prayed she’d move on to another victim. The gods must have shown pity on me because she bounced back up and went to the front to show us the next pose.

About Author Karen Anne

Karen Anne was writing before she could read. As a toddler, she sat with a book in her hands and made up the stories, eager for the day when she’d find out if it all truly ended in happily ever after. Karen still determines the destiny of other people’s lives, but this time, the characters are her own.

She is a Contemporary Romance author who lives in New York.
Coffee drinker by day, wine enthusiast by night, she loves cats and deeply misses 90’s grunge.

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Oops, My Bad
A.C. Pontone
Publication date: July 6th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Synopsis

The rules were simple—don’t fall for the handsome vet. Oops! Some rules are meant to be broken.

The light turned red and suddenly my whole life changed. I found myself lying in the middle of the street with two little yellow eyes staring at me.

Then he appeared. Logan. Tall, sexy, built. I’d prayed that Superman would show up to save me, but Logan’s even better. Except that he seems more interested in saving the cat I almost ran over.

Since I can’t pay the vet bills for my unwelcome new guest, I’m forced to accept a job in his veterinary clinic as a receptionist. Not a great fit for someone who’s known since childhood that all animals have it in for her. And Logan seems to be more on their side than mine.

Of course, there’s nothing that says I can’t also unfurl my claws and be a sex kitten for the hot veterinarian. He’s got just one rule: don’t get emotionally involved.

Simple, no?

Not when the damn test comes back positive.

What can I say? Someone’s in trouble . . . and it’s not the cat.

Oops, my bad.

Goodreads / Amazon

Only 99¢ for a limited time!

Enjoy this peek inside:

I hate orange. I hate the cold. And I hate this stupid scooter.

Don’t get me wrong; usually I’m a sunny and positive person, but right now, with my butt frozen and a nose that’s redder than Rudolph’s, my positivity has vanished. Died. Disappeared. Been sucked into a big black hole. Or maybe been flushed down the toilet like the dead goldfish you have to quickly replace in order not to traumatize your little brother.

Not that I ever did that, you understand. Okay, maybe something like that might have happened once—or actually, ten times. I mean, it’s not my fault those dumb goldfish kept coming up to the surface with their creepy little mouths open. I thought they were hungry! Later I realized they’d decided on their own to put an end to their miserable little lives when they realized the grave error they’d made ending up in a bowl on a shelf above the dining-room table in the house where I also happened to live. So many tiny red Samurai soldiers committing seppuku, except with food instead of swords.

It was even kind of poetic. Except for the ending, where all that poetry ended up flushed down the toilet. The life of a goldfish is truly miserable. After the tenth suicide, my parents threw in the towel, something I would probably have done after the first one, and confessed to my little brother the tragic fate of his beloved pet.

I’m pretty sure he threw a thank-God-she’s-gone party when I finally left home to go to college. Now he has a whole aquarium full of multicolored fish. Oddly enough, none of them have ended up in the toilet.

Anyway, going back to the things I’m not happy with in my life, the color orange is probably first on the list. I mean, in what universe would a sane person willingly wear orange clothing? Stranger still, who came up with the idea that a pizza-delivery person should dress like a carrot that’s been regurgitated by Bugs Bunny? I admit I’ve looked worse, though. The Little Caesar’s uniform probably isn’t even one-tenth as hideous as the chicken costume I had to wear to advertise the chicken wings sold by—wait for it—El Pollo Loco! Quite an original idea, you must admit—dressing up as a chicken to promote the wings at Pollo Loco. Needless to say, I was fired before the end of my first week.

Anyway, now I’m a new version of myself. Now I’m a pizza-delivery person with a frozen ass and a stupid orange hat under my helmet. But as long as it pays the bills, I guess I can’t complain.

I have one last delivery to make and then I can finally go home, burrow under the covers, and sleep like a rock. If I manage to keep this job long enough to pay off my overdue bills, maybe in a couple of months I’ll even be able to take a shower with hot water! Or eat something that isn’t Cup O’Noodles. My mouth is watering already at the mere thought of getting to savor some real food. Maybe I can even splurge and buy myself a bottle of wine. I can already imagine myself lounging in my teensy bathtub submerged in bubbles, sipping a glass of Two-Buck Chuck.

With this comforting image in mind, I twist the accelerator and continue down Madison Avenue. The streets are almost deserted because there’s a blizzard blowing in right now, but the rich snobs on the upper East Side still want their pizza. They don’t care about the poor pizza delivery people, even though it’s January, for fuck’s sake, and cold as a witch’s tit.

What the fuck are they ordering pizza from Little Caesar’s for anyway? If I had enough money to afford an apartment in one of the most expensive areas of Manhattan, I would never order pizza from a place like Little Caesar’s. I’d have my own chef and eat delicious gourmet dishes every night. Shit, just thinking about food is making my stomach growl and my mouth water.

With a sigh, I accelerate even more. I’m not going to worry about speed limits on a night like this. Not that this scooter can go very fast anyway. At least I have my own transport—that is, during my shift. If I get a good tip on this last delivery I’ll go home on the subway. Otherwise I’ll walk from the pizza place to my apartment in East Harlem. Five blocks on foot, in January, at night, in New York City. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, literally.

Don’t make that face. I know I don’t exactly live in the most upscale neighborhood, but by this time you should have gotten the idea that I’m . . . probably poorer than the homeless man I just passed, sleeping on Fifth Avenue. The only difference is that I have a roof over my head—as long as I manage to keep this job, anyway.

I roar, or rather, putt up to an intersection. The light’s red, but there’s no one on the street and I really, really want to get this damn pizza delivered on time and possibly get a nice tip, so I floor it. Wouldn’t you know it, at that very moment a car appears out of nowhere. I jerk the handlebars and swerve, somehow managing to avoid crashing broadside into the door of the expensive SUV and becoming a large meatball squished against the window. There must be some invisible superhero watching over me.

The driver of the vehicle honks, shorthand for Look where you’re going, stupid bitch! Under other circumstances I might even apologize, but I really need that tip. So I turn my back on the big black SUV and putt-putt away.

The cold is making my eyes water and the scooter tires are skidding on the icy road. Right when I think I’ve finally arrived at my destination, two small yellow eyes suddenly appear out of the darkness right in front of me. I scream at them—to no avail, since the little beast doesn’t move. Instead, it sits down in the middle of the street and begins to lick a paw. Of course I’m driving too fast, and when I try to brake, I lose control and skid. Though I try to steer in the direction of the skid, I lose my balance and fall. I can’t tell if I hit the damn cat or not. All I know is that there’s a big rip in my uniform pants at the knee. I’m afraid to look; I’m pretty sure there’s a bad cut there as well. One side of my body is pulsating with pain, but at least my helmet served its purpose and protected my head. I’m alive, thank goodness, but I don’t see the cat anywhere. I can’t have the death of that poor feline on my conscience as well when I’m already haunted by the specters of those ten goldfish.

I feel tears pricking my eyes. I didn’t want to kill him! I’m not an animal-hater, really! I have nothing against them. They’re the ones that hate me. Still on the ground, the scooter lying on top of my leg, I begin to sob.

Then I hear it. A little meow right behind my head. It sounds mocking, contemptuous. The stupid cat is making fun of me. He’s safe and sound, while my ass is probably one big black bruise and I’ve got at least a dozen other scratches and bruises. “Aaarrgghh!” I scream like someone possessed. I have to get this fucking pizza delivered if I want to keep my job.

I need a miracle. Where’s Superman when you need him? I look around me and notice to my horror that the pizza box has opened up and spilled its contents onto the icy New York streets. Maybe if I can manage to get up and move my ass fast enough, I can shove it back into the box without anyone noticing that the bell peppers have flecks of asphalt on them.

Slowly and painfully I move the scooter off my leg. I can’t feel my toes, but I’m sure that’s more because of the cold than the accident. As I prepare to hoist myself to my feet, I see that the idiot cat has decided to sit down on top of the pizza. It starts to lick off the cheese, its little muzzle turning bright red from the tomato sauce. I realize I’m well and truly fucked.

Superman, where are you when I need you?

As if by magic, I’m suddenly bathed in light. A post-Christmas miracle? Either that or I’m dead, and this is the light at the end of the tunnel everyone talks about. Fuck, I’m going to die like a cat squashed on the highway, I think, because I know neither of those two possibilities describes what’s really happening. A hysterical laugh bursts from my chest. The irony of the situation doesn’t escape me as I sit there watching the car bear down on me. After all, I am lying in the middle of the street in the heart of New York City—what else did I expect?

Then something totally unexpected happens. I say a silent thank-you to my horrible orange uniform. I hate it, but I have to admit, it’s got the visibility of a neon sign in the darkness. I hear the sound of brakes, followed by a car door slamming shut. Turning my head to look, I blink and my jaw drops.

Oh. My. God.

It’s taken twenty-two years, but He finally heard my prayers.

He’s here! Superman is here!

Okay, maybe I hit my head and didn’t realize it. I must have hit it really hard because I could swear that standing before me is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Besides Superman, of course. This guy’s hotter than all the Marvel and DC superheroes put together.

“My hero,” I whisper as tears begin to fill my eyes and my heart rate accelerates.

“Poor kitten, are you okay?”

“What?” I guess I don’t mind that he’s already using a pet name for me, but isn’t it a little soon? I mean, we barely know each other.

His large green eyes rest on mine and he runs a hand through his thick dark-blond hair. A small wrinkle appears in the middle of his forehead and his eyebrows draw together.

Is he worried about me? My heart beats wildly as a dumb smile appears on my face. I can’t quite decipher the expression on his face, though. Is it fear? Concern? I blink a few more times, trying to focus. Then the truth dawns on me. He’s not concerned about me, he’s really pissed off at me. Superman . . . I think sadly.

“What the hell?” he barks suddenly. His voice is deep and masculine, one of those voices that makes you melt as soon as you hear it. “Be more careful next time!”

My eyebrows rise so high they collide with my hairline. “Are you talking to me?” I stammer, looking around like an idiot as if someone else might be there. Of course there’s no one. It’s just him, me, and the stupid cat. The cat that at this precise instant is rubbing itself against the ankles of my hero. What the fuck?

I watch as he bends over and tenderly gathers up the little monster in his big, capable hands. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate that cat right now. He strokes it, then lifts it up and examines it carefully. The crease in his forehead deepens. Taking a deep breath, he holds the cat tighter, turns around, and heads back to his car.

“You can’t just leave me here!” I yell after him. He ignores me. My tears are threatening to spill over now. He opens the gate of his SUV and carefully puts the cat inside.

Then I hear him fiddling around with something. I close my eyes. What’s the point of looking? I just lost my Superman to a cat.

“Can you get up?” His voice is severe. I blink and see him standing in front of me again. So now he’s finally worrying about my health. I glower at him, cross my arms, and nod. “Well, come on, then.” My jaw drops again. “Hurry!” he barks over his shoulder as he heads toward his car.

“No!”

He stops, one foot in midair. “No?” He turns back toward me. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting that answer. His frown deepens. “Would you prefer that I call the police?” he says challengingly. At the word police the blood freezes in my veins.

“Um, what?” I stammer, hoping I’ve heard wrong.

“I’m sure they’ll have something to say about the fact that you were speeding and running red lights. Oh, and that you hit a poor animal on the street.”

“I didn’t hit him!” I reply indignantly.

He shakes his head and exhales an impatient sigh. “You’re either coming with me or I’m calling the police.”

For a few minutes we engage in a Mexican standoff. I feel like I’m confronting one of those alpha males I’ve read about in my romance novels. I know that the first one to look away will be the loser. I have to be strong.

He raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge. He’s clearly telling me I’ve already lost. The fact that I suddenly sneeze, getting snot on the collar of my uniform shirt—as if I hadn’t humiliated myself enough already—proves that it’s not my fault I can’t win. The universe is clearly against me.

Heaving a defeated sigh, I wipe myself clean—so elegantly—using the sleeve of my jacket. I see him wrinkle his nose in disgust, then look away. He turns around again and heads for the car. “Let’s go,” he orders.

With a snort I throw my arms in the air. “All right,” I say peevishly as I pull myself to my feet, staggering a little for dramatic effect. I feel like a fragile little fawn entering the big bad wolf’s cave. And yes, I know I’m an idiot. “Wait a minute, I can’t leave the scooter here!”

He stops again and slowly turns back to me. I can see a vein pulsing angrily in his neck. I swallow. Maybe I can leave the goddamn scooter here. But then Mr. Animal-lover passes me without a word, walking over to my scooter. He plucks it up off the road as if it weighs nothing and heads for his car again.

“Anything else, your Highness, or do you think you could finally get into the fucking car?” he asks, his tone curt as he maneuvers the scooter into the back of the SUV.

“Um, I don’t think it will close now,” I babble, pointing at the back gate of the SUV. All I earn for my concern is another annoyed look.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

I hasten to the passenger side and climb in. A glance behind me shows me the cat is in a carrier in the middle of the back seat. It seems weird that a guy would just drive around with a cat carrier in his car, but I’m too intimidated to ask him why.

From the corner of my eye I see that he’s left the back gate open. I told him it wouldn’t close! My lips curve into a small smile of triumph—which rapidly morphs into a grimace of terror when Mr. Animal-lover climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Fasten your seat belt,” he barks in his usual tone which is somewhere between a dog growling and a lion roaring.

I swallow. My palms are sweating and the hairs on my arms slowly rise. I must have hit my head really hard, though, because instead of curling up in the corner of the seat and beginning to cry—something I’m quite good at—I turn toward him, raise my eyebrows and ask, “Are you always this much of an asshole or is it just me?”

I see his jaw go rigid, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns the key, presses on the accelerator, and we drive off. With an irritated snort, I look out my window and watch the city lights slide by. All this time waiting for my very own Superman only to discover that he’s actually a complete asshole.

Author Angela Camilla Pontone

 

Angela Camilla Pontone is a USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Italy, in a town between Rome and Naples. She’s been an avid reader since childhood. She prefers romance, but will gobble up pretty much anything that’s available. She’s always loved history and literature, so she obtained a Master’s Degree in the fields of Italian and Romance Languages, Literatures and Philology, Historical and Musicological Studies, Latin Languages and Literatures, Ancient History, and Archaeology.
Camilla’s secret desire was always to be a writer, but she never had the courage to pursue her dream until her life experiences led her to seek a way out of reality. Now, her dream is to continue to create great stories that her readers will love.

For all the latest news about her books and events, sign up now at https://my.sendinblue.com/users/subscribe/js_id/3t1ws/id/3 to receive Camilla’s newsletter.

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