The first time I met Max Yearwood was on a blind date.
Max was insanely gorgeous, funny, and our chemistry was off the charts. He also had the biggest dimples I’d ever laid eyes on.
Exactly what I needed after my breakup.
Or so I thought…
Until my real date arrived.
Turned out, Max wasn’t who I was there to meet. He only pretended to be until my real date showed up.
To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.
Before he left, he slipped me a ticket to a hockey game a few blocks away, in case things didn’t work out on my actual date.
I tossed the ticket into my purse and went about trying to enjoy the man I was supposed to meet.
But my real blind date and I had no connection.
So on my way home, I decided to take a chance and stop by the game.
When I arrived, the seat next to me was empty.
Disappointed again, I decided to leave at the end of the period.
Just before the buzzer, one of the teams scored, and the entire arena went crazy.
A player’s face flashed up on the Jumbotron. He was wearing a helmet, but I froze when he smiled.
You guessed it: Dimples.
Apparently, my fake blind date hadn’t invited me to watch hockey with him, he’d invited me to watch him play.
And so began my adventure with Max Yearwood.
He was everything I needed at the time—fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months since he’d signed with a new team three-thousand miles away.
Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right?
Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-six languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria, and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
From brothers in arms – to teammates on horseback.
Meet the men of High Mountain Trackers, a specialized, mounted search & rescue team in the wilds of northern Montana. Bound by a brotherhood forged as a former special ops unit, they now put their skills to good use finding missing people and helping law enforcement track down criminals.
While at home in the mountains, they are out of their element with the women who cross their path.
USA Today bestselling author Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
With forty-plus books already published, she continues to create characters who are perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy.
Recipient of the ReadFREE.ly 2019 Best Book We’ve Read All Year Award for “Covering Ollie, the 2015 RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for Best First Book, “Slim To None”, Finalist for the 2017 Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, and Finalist for the 2020 Kindle Book Award with “When Hope Ends”, Freya spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
He needs to go away. Which means someone needs to matchmake him. And I’m just the girl for the job.
Matchmaking Mischief, an all new opposites attract romantic comedy with the perfect grumpy hero from New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank and USA Today bestselling author A.R. Casella is available now!
Willow
There are certain expectations when you’re born into a multigenerational family of matchmakers, which is why I fled my hometown and tried to build a life of my own.
But it turns out matchmaking is hard to quit, and I can’t stop trying to match the customers at the bakery I manage—including my boss and the tea shop owner next door—even though I’m hopeless at love.
So it seriously crimps my style when Alex Hunter starts coming around, working on his book at the bakery. He’s hot, grumpy, and thinks romance is a dirty word. Worse, he keeps distracting our customers.
He needs to go away. Which means someone needs to matchmake him.
And I’m just the girl for the job.
Alex
I’m a writer who can’t write, and lo and behold, I meet a matchmaker who’s allergic to love.
Me being me, I fall for her.
Most of the people in this town seem insane, but I have to turn my frown upside down and show Willow Mayberry that matchmakers deserve love too.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” I say. “I enjoyed it…”
She gives me a pointed look.
“Well, obviously, except for the part where you had to go to the emergency room, although I won’t deny that I liked looking at your ass.”
If she’d been holding a dish, she would have dropped it. “You looked?!”
“No,” I say, laughing a little at the horror on her face. “Not when she pulled your shorts down to give you the steroid shot. Those are some shorts though.”
She looks embarrassed, and I can’t have that, so I say something stupid. “You know, someone told me you think I’m so sexy, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all day.”
“Who told you that?” she asks, blanching. “Nicole? I barely know her.”
“You did,” I say, reaching for her hand. “When you were high on Benadryl.”
She doesn’t pull away. My heart is pounding now—I can hear it in my ears—and I pull her to me. “You said I should be with someone bold and sexy,” I say into her ear. Her body is against me now, her breasts pressing into my chest, the curve of her hips under my hands, and that delightfully messy hair is in the vicinity of my nose, so I can take in her scent—citrus and vanilla. Sunshine.
“I guess I said a lot of things,” she says, her voice muffled. She’s looking down, and I can’t have that either, so I tip her chin gently so she’s peering up at me. Her eyes…they’re like a storm, but one feeling punches through: lust. She wants me too.
Thank God.
“You’re bold,” I say. “You’re sexy as hell. Talking to you makes me feel like I’m in Narnia.”
“What?” she asks, clearly taken off guard by that. Me and my big mouth.
“It’s just…time changes when we’re together, or even when we’re just talking. It slips by without seeming to. I could talk to you for hours without noticing time is passing. It’s like stepping through that wardrobe door, and—”
And I shut the hell up because she’s lifting up on her toes. With my heart soaring in my chest, I lean down and claim her mouth, gentle at first—a getting-to-know-you kiss—but her lips are so soft yet hungry, and a little sound escapes her throat. I’m suddenly ravenous for her.
About Denise Grover Swank New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in her own mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
About A.R. Casella USA Today bestselling author A.R. CASELLA is a freelance developmental editor by day, writer by night. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, two dogs, and a variable number of fish. Her pastimes include chasing around her toddler, baking delicious treats, and occasional bouts of crocheting. Any Luck at All, co-written with New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank, is her debut novel.
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance Release Date: January 10, 2022
Excited about Vi Keeland’s upcoming release, The Summer Proposal? Check out this SNEAK PEEK of CHAPTER 1!
CHAPTER 1
Georgia
“What can I get you?” The bartender set a napkin down in front of me.
“Ummm… I’m meeting someone, so maybe I should wait.”
He rapped his knuckles against the bar. “Good enough. I’ll keep my eye out and stop back over when I see someone join you.”
But as he started to walk away, I reconsidered. “Actually!” I raised my hand like I was in school.
He turned around with a smile and arched a brow. “Change your mind?”
I nodded. “I’m about to meet a blind date, so I wanted to be polite, but I think I could use something to take the edge off.”
“Probably a good idea. What are you drinking?”
“A pinot grigio would be great. Thank you.”
He came back a few minutes later with a hefty pour and leaned his elbow on the bar. “So, blind date, huh?”
I sipped my wine and let out a sigh as I nodded. “I let my mom’s seventy-four-year-old friend Frannie set me up with her grandnephew to make my mom happy. She described him as ‘a smidge ordinary, but nice’. We’re supposed to meet here at five thirty. I’m a few minutes early.”
“First time letting someone fix you up?”
“Second, actually. The first was seven years ago. It took me this long to recover from it, if that tells you anything.”
The bartender laughed. “That bad?”
“I was told he was a comedian. So I figured, how terrible could it be going out with someone who makes people laugh for a living? The guy showed up with a puppet. Apparently his comedy act was as a ventriloquist. He refused to speak to me directly—wanted me to talk only to his dummy. Who, by the way, was named Dirty Dave, and every other comment out of its mouth was obscene. Oh, and my date’s mouth moved the entire time, so he wasn’t even a very good ventriloquist.”
“Damn.” The bartender chuckled. “Not sure I’d give another blind date a chance after that, even after a few years.”
I sighed. “I’m sort of regretting it already.”
“Well, if anyone comes in with a puppet, I got you covered.” He gestured toward a hallway behind him. “I know where all the emergency exits are, and I can sneak you out.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
A couple sat down on the other end of the bar, so the bartender went to help them while I continued to stare at the entrance. I’d purposely taken a seat in the back corner so I could watch the front door, hoping to get a look at my date before he saw me. Not that I planned to ditch if he wasn’t handsome, but I didn’t want him to read disappointment on my face if I felt any. I’d always been terrible at masking my feelings.
A few minutes later, the restaurant’s door opened and a drop-dead gorgeous guy walked in. He looked like he belonged on a men’s cologne ad, probably emerging from crystal blue Caribbean water. I got excited, until I realized he couldn’t be my date.
Frannie had described Adam as a computer nerd. And pretty much any question I’d asked her about him, she’d answered, “About average.”
How tall is he? About average.
Is he handsome? About average.
Body type? About average.
This guy was tall, with broad shoulders, big, blue bedroom eyes, a chiseled jawline, dark hair that was sort of messy, but totally worked for him, and even though he was wearing a simple dress shirt and slacks, I could tell he was buff underneath. Frannie would have to be crazy to think anything about him was average.
Oh.
Oh!
Well, she was a little…different. Last time I went to Florida to see Mom, we went to lunch with Frannie, and she’d glowed orange from an excessive amount of self-tanner she’d bought on the Home Shopping Network. She also spent all afternoon telling us about her recent road trip to New Mexico to attend a UFO convention in Roswell.
But even with that factored in, this guy didn’t look like a computer nerd. Nevertheless, his eyes scanned the room, and when they met mine, he smiled.
Dimples.
Deep ones.
Oh, Lord. My heart did a little pitter-patter.
Could I be this lucky?
Apparently it was possible. Because the guy headed right toward me. I probably should’ve played it cool and looked away, but it was impossible not to stare.
“Adam?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
I thought that was a bit of an odd response, but his smile widened, and those cavernous dimples seemed to turn my brain to mush.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Frannie. My mom is friends with Georgia.” I shook my head. “Sorry. I mean, I’m Georgia. My mom is friends with Frannie.”
“Nice to meet you, Georgia.”
He extended his hand, and when I placed mine in it, mine felt really…small.
“I have to say, you are definitely not what I was expecting. Frannie didn’t describe you very accurately.”
“Better or worse?”
Was he joking? “She may have described you as a nerd.”
He sat down on the stool next to me. “I usually don’t admit this when I first meet a woman, but I do have a Star Wars action figure collection.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “In fact, I almost always have one on me. I’m a bit superstitious, and they bring me luck.”
Adam unfolded his big hand to reveal a tiny Yoda. He leaned over and set it on the bar in front of me, and a hint of cologne wafted through the air. Smells as good as he looks. There had to be something majorly wrong with him.
“Women tend to not like Star Wars for some reason,” he said. “Or a grown man carrying around an action figure.”
“I actually like Star Wars.”
He put his hand over his heart. “A beautiful woman who likes Star Wars? Should we skip the formalities and just grab a flight to Vegas to get married?”
I laughed. “Maybe, but first promise me you aren’t into ventriloquism.”
He crossed his heart. “Star Wars is as bad as it gets.”
The bartender came over to take Adam’s drink order. I was surprised when he asked for a Diet Coke.
“You’re not going to join me for a cocktail or a glass of wine?”
He shook his head. “Wish I could, but I have to work later.”
“Tonight?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I wish I didn’t. But I actually need to get out of here in a little while.”
I’d thought we were meeting for drinks and dinner, but perhaps Frannie had gotten that wrong.
“Oh, okay.” I forced a smile.
Apparently Adam saw right through it.
“I swear I’m not making that up. I do have to work. But I definitely would love to stay. Since I can’t, is it too early to say I’d love to see you again?”
I sipped my wine. “Hmmm… I’m not sure about that. Normally, I get to know someone on a first date, so I can weed out the serial killers and nutjobs. How am I supposed to know you’re not the next Ted Bundy if you’re running out of here?”
Adam stroked the scruff on his chin and looked at his watch. “I have about fifteen minutes. Why don’t we cut the small talk and you can ask me anything?”
“Anything?”
He shrugged. “I’m an open book. Take your best shot.”
I gulped my wine and turned in my seat to face him. “Alright. But I want to watch your face as I grill you. I’m terrible at hiding lies on mine but great at reading others.”
He smiled and turned, giving me his full attention. “Go for it.”
“Okay. Do you live with your mother?”
“No, ma’am. She doesn’t even live in the same state. But I do call home every Sunday.”
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“Public indecency in college. I was pledging a fraternity, and me and a bunch of other guys had to walk through the center of town naked. A group of girls stopped us and asked if any of us could hula hoop. Everyone else kept walking. I figured they were all too chicken, so I stopped. Apparently, the guys weren’t afraid; I was just the only one who didn’t see the cop coming out of a store a couple of doors down.”
I laughed. “Can you actually hula hoop?”
He winked. “Only naked. You wanna see?”
The smile on my face widened. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Shame.”
“When was the last time you had sex?”
For the first time, the smile on his face wilted. “Two weeks ago. Are you gonna hold that against me?”
I shook my head. “Not necessarily. I appreciate the honesty. You could have lied and said a while ago.”
“Okay, good. What else you got?”
“Have you ever been in a relationship?”
“Twice. Once in college for a year, and then I dated a woman for eighteen months, and that ended two years ago.”
“Why did they end?”
“College, because I was twenty and…it was a crazy time in my life. And the woman I dated a few years back, because she wanted to get married and start a family, and I wasn’t ready.”
I tapped my pointer to my bottom lip. “Hmm… Yet you just asked me to go to Vegas and marry you.”
He grinned. “She didn’t like Star Wars.”
We were both too busy laughing to notice a guy walk up to us. I figured he must have known Adam, so I politely smiled and looked to him. But the guy spoke to me.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you Georgia Delaney?”
“Yes?”
He smiled. “I’m Adam Foster. Frannie showed me a picture of you, but it was from a costume party.” He motioned to the side of his head, twirling his hand around in a circle. “You were dressed as Princess Leia, with your hair all pinned up on the sides, so you looked a little different than you do now.”
I furrowed my brow. “You’re…Adam?”
The guy seemed just as confused as I was. “Yes.”
Now this man looked like what I’d been expecting: worn, brown tweed jacket, cropped hair parted to one side—sort of the average Joe that worked in the IT department at your office. But…
If he was Adam, then who was this?
I looked at the guy sitting next to me for an answer. Though that’s not what I got.
“Did you really dress as Princess Leia for a Halloween party?”
“Yes, but…”
Adam, or whoever the hell the guy sitting next to me was, put his finger over my lips and turned to the man who was apparently my date. “Can you just give us a minute?” he asked.
“Umm…sure.”
As soon as average Adam walked away, I laid into hot Adam. “Who the hell are you?”
“Sorry. My name is Max.”
“Do you make a habit of pretending to be someone else?”
He shook his head. “I just…I saw you sitting at the bar through the window when I was passing by, and you had such a pretty smile. I came over to introduce myself, and it was clear you were here to meet someone else. I guess I sort of panicked that you weren’t going to talk to me since I wasn’t Adam. So I went with it.”
“And what if my date hadn’t showed up? Would you have pretended to be Adam on a second date?”
Max dragged a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”
Normally catching a date in a lie would make me angry, but finding out Max wasn’t Adam was more disappointing than anything. We’d had great chemistry, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much meeting someone new.
“Was every answer a lie? Do you even like Star Wars?”
He held up both hands. “I swear. The only thing that wasn’t the truth was my name.”
I sighed. “Well, Max, thanks for the entertainment. But I don’t want to keep my real date waiting.”
He frowned, but nodded and stood. “It was nice meeting you. I guess asking for your number would be stupid right about now?”
I gave him a look. “Yes, it would. Have a good night, Max.”
He looked at me for a few seconds, then slipped a bill out of his wallet and tossed a hundred on the counter. “You, too, Georgia. I really enjoyed meeting you.”
Max took a few steps away, but then stopped and walked back. He again took out his billfold, only this time he peeled off what looked like a ticket of some sort and placed it on the bar in front of me. “I’d really love to see you again. If your real date turns out to be a dud or you change your mind, I promise I will never tell you another lie.” He pointed to the ticket. “I’ll be at the hockey game over at the Garden at seven thirty, if you would consider giving me another shot.”
What he said seemed heartfelt, but I was here to meet another man. Not to mention, I was really disappointed. I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
With a sullen face, Max nodded one last time before walking away. I didn’t have time to process everything, but I felt a strange sense of loss when I watched him walk out the door. Though as soon as he disappeared from sight, my real date was next to me.
I had to force a smile. “Sorry about that. We, um, just had some business to wrap up.”
“No problem.” He smiled. “I’m just glad that guy wasn’t hitting on you, and I didn’t have to defend your honor. He was a tank.” Real Adam sat down. “Can I order you another wine?”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“So…I take it you’re a big Star Wars fan?”
“Hmm? Oh, because of the costume.”
Adam pointed to the bar. “And the little Yoda.”
I looked down. Max had left his Yoda figurine behind. I guess he hadn’t been lying about being a Star Wars fan, considering he carried an action figure in his pocket. At least I hoped it wasn’t just a prop he used when he told strangers tall tales at bars and lied about his name.
***
Real Adam talked about artificial intelligence—a lot.
I tried to get my head back in the game after the Max letdown, but I knew before my actual date and I had finished a drink at the bar that this would be our only date. Adam was a nice-enough guy; there was just no connection, physical or mental. I wasn’t into computers or Bitcoin, which seemed to be a big thing for him, and he wasn’t into any of my hobbies, such as hiking, traveling, and watching old black-and-white movies. He didn’t even enjoy going to the movies. Who doesn’t love bingeing on popcorn and a gallon of soda while watching a big screen? Not to mention, when I told him about my work, he said he was allergic to flowers.
So when the waitress came by with a dessert menu, I politely declined.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a coffee or something?” Adam asked.
I shook my head. “I have to work in the morning. Having caffeine after noon keeps me up all night. But thank you.”
He nodded, though I could tell he was disappointed.
Outside the restaurant, he offered to share a cab, but I only lived eight blocks away. So I extended my hand to set the tone for the end of the evening.
“It was very nice to meet you, Adam.”
“You, too. Maybe we can…do this again sometime?”
It was so much easier to be upfront and tell a guy there wouldn’t be a second date when he was a jerk. But I always struggled with the nice ones. I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Take care, Adam.”
It was late April, but the cold weather just wouldn’t relent and allow spring to start this year, and a gust of wind blew while I waited at the intersection at the corner of the restaurant. I shoved my hands into my pockets for some warmth, and inside, something pointy pricked at my fingers. I slipped it out to see what it was.
Yoda.
His plastic ears were tapered to points, and there was a tiny chip on the left one. I’d forgotten I’d stuck him in my pocket when Adam and I had moved from the bar to a table. Looking down at him, I sighed. God, why couldn’t your owner have been my actual date tonight?
It had been a very long time since a man gave me the warm fuzzies in the pit of my belly—not since the day I’d met Gabriel. So maybe finding Yoda in my pocket was a sign? The light changed, and I walked a few more blocks, lost in thought.
Did it really matter that he’d pretended to be Adam? I mean, if he was telling the truth, he only did it so I’d talk to him. Let’s face it, if he had walked over and introduced himself as Max, I wouldn’t have invited him to sit down. I would have been polite and told him I was waiting for my date, no matter how gorgeous the man was. So, I couldn’t really say I blamed him…I guess.
I stopped for another red light at the crosswalk on 29th Street, this time at the corner of 7th as I made my way down to 2nd Avenue where I lived. While I waited, I looked to my right, and the neon lights of a sign hit me. Madison Square Garden. Now that was definitely a sign—quite literally. Between Yoda and walking right past the place Fake Adam had said he’d be…perhaps it was more than that.
I checked the time on my phone. Twenty after eight. He’d said he would be there at seven thirty, but I was sure the game took a few hours. Should I?
I nibbled on my lip as the light in front of me turned green. People on both sides of me started to walk…but I just stood there, staring down at Yoda.
Screw it.
Why not?
What do I have to lose?
The worst that could happen was that our initial connection fizzled or it turned out lying was one of Fake Adam’s hobbies. Or…the spark we’d had might lead to just the distraction I was looking for. I wouldn’t know unless I tried.
For the most part, I was pretty conservative with my choices in men. And look where that had gotten me. I was a twenty-eight-year-old workaholic, going on blind dates with my mom’s friend’s relatives. So screw it—I was going.
Once I made the decision, I couldn’t wait to get there. I practically jogged to Madison Square Garden, even in my heels from work. Inside, I showed my ticket to an usher standing at the entrance to the section listed, and he showed me to my seat.
As I walked down the stadium stairs, I looked around and noticed I was pretty overdressed. Most of the people had on jerseys and jeans. There were even a few shirtless guys with their bodies painted, and here I was wearing a cream silk blouse, red pencil skirt, and my favorite Valentino pumps. At least Max had been pretty dressed up.
I hadn’t noticed the row number on the ticket before handing it over to the usher, but the seats must’ve been decent because we just kept walking down toward the ice. When we hit the very first row, the usher extended his hand. “Here you go. Seat two is the second one in.”
“Wow, first row, directly in the middle on the fifty-yard line.”
The guy smiled. “In hockey we call it center ice.”
“Oh…okay.” But the seat next to the one he’d shown me to was empty, and Max was nowhere in sight. “Did you happen to see the person sitting in the seat at the end?” I asked.
The usher shrugged. “I’m not positive, but I don’t think they’ve arrived yet. Enjoy the game, miss.”
After he walked away, I stood looking down at the two empty seats. This was one outcome I hadn’t thought about: I might get stood up. Actually, would it even be considered standing someone up if the other person didn’t know you were coming? I wasn’t sure. But I was here, so I might as well take a seat and see if Max showed. He’d said he had to work, so perhaps he was running late. Or maybe he was already here, just in the men’s room or in line for a beer.
A woman sat on the other side of me. She smiled as I settled in. “Hi. Are you here to watch Yearwood? He’s on fire tonight, already slashed two in the net. Too bad they’re probably not going to be able to hold onto him for next season.”
I shook my head. “Oh. No, I’m actually meeting someone. I’ve never been to a live hockey game before.” Just as I said it, two guys slammed into the glass wall directly in front of me. I jumped, and the woman next to me laughed as they skated away.
“That happens a lot. You’ll get used to it.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Jenna, by the way. I’m married to Tomasso.” She pointed to the rink. “Number twelve.”
“Oh, wow. I guess I’m sitting next to the right person for my first game.” I put my hand to my chest. “I’m Georgia.”
“Anything you want explained, Georgia, you just let me know.”
For the next twenty minutes, I tried to watch the game. But I kept looking around to see if Max was coming down the stairs. Unfortunately, he never did. By nine o’clock, it was pretty clear I’d wasted my time. Since I had early meetings tomorrow morning, I decided to call it a night. The game clock showed less than a minute until the end of the second period, so I figured I’d wait until then so I wouldn’t be blocking people’s views as I climbed the stairs back up to the exit. These hockey fans seemed pretty into the game.
When the clock hit nine seconds, one of the guys scored a goal, and the place went crazy again. Everyone jumped up, so I did the same, only I used it as an opportunity to slip on my jacket. I leaned to the woman next to me and yelled. “I don’t think my date’s coming, so I’m going to head out. Have a good night.”
But as I turned to leave, something caught my attention on the Jumbotron. The player who’d scored held his stick up in the air celebrating, and a bunch of the guys on his team were whacking him on the head. His helmet covered most of his face, but those eyes… I know those eyes. The player took out his mouth guard, waved it in the air, and smiled right at the camera.
Dimples.
Big ones.
My eyes went wide.
No…it couldn’t be.
I continued to stare at the screen with my mouth hanging open until the guy’s face was no longer on it.
The woman next to me finished cheering. “See? I told you he was on fire. If this is your first game, you’ve picked a good one to watch. You don’t see a lot of hat tricks in a single period. Yearwood is having his best season ever. Too bad the rest of his team isn’t.”
“Yearwood? That’s the name of the guy who just scored?”
Jenna laughed at my question. “Yup. Team captain and arguably the best player in the NHL these days. They call him Pretty Boy for obvious reasons.”
“What’s his first name?”
“Max. I figured you knew him, since those are his seatsyou’re sitting in.”
★★★
Excited? We are too!
RELEASING JANUARY 10th!
ABOUT THE BOOK
The first time I met Max Yearwood was on a blind date. Max was insanely gorgeous, funny, and our chemistry was off the charts. He also had the biggest dimples I’d ever laid eyes on. Exactly what I needed after my breakup. Or so I thought… Until my real date arrived. Turned out, Max wasn’t who I was there to meet. He only pretended to be until my real date showed up. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. Before he left, he slipped me a ticket to a hockey game a few blocks away, in case things didn’t work out on my actual date. I tossed the ticket into my purse and went about trying to enjoy the man I was supposed to meet. But my real blind date and I had no connection. So on my way home, I decided to take a chance and stop by the game. When I arrived, the seat next to me was empty. Disappointed again, I decided to leave at the end of the period. Just before the buzzer, one of the teams scored, and the entire arena went crazy. A player’s face flashed up on the Jumbotron. He was wearing a helmet, but I froze when he smiled. You guessed it: Dimples. Apparently, my fake blind date hadn’t invited me to watch hockey with him, he’d invited me to watch him play. And so began my adventure with Max Yearwood. He was everything I needed at the time—fun, sexy, up for anything, and only around for a few months since he’d signed with a new team three-thousand miles away. Max proposed we spend the summer helping me forget my ex. It sounded like a good plan. Things couldn’t get too serious when we had an expiration date. Right? Though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.
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AUTHOR BIO
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-six languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria, and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
A sociopath has stalked me mercilessly for eight years. It’s only a matter of time before he kills me. Until I meet Tolyan.
He bursts into my life like a god of vengeance, seething with raw power and danger, trained to protect—or kill. He has a scowl for the world, but for some reason, he’s gentle with me and the combination of deadly power leashed only for me makes my heart flutter.
One night, he kills a man and I realize he’s the answer I’ve been searching for, if I can convince him to help.
Tolyan
Ten years ago, a man murdered the mother of my child. It’s time he pays. And I’ve finally found what he wants—Angelika.
Those wide innocent eyes and a smart mouth that makes me laugh are things I love about her. But she’s going to be my perfect bait, willing and obedient. All I have to do is not fall for her…
“Look, I know I sound crazy, but please. I’m not.” Her words come out fast and desperate. “My stepbrother’s a psychopath. He’s been harassing me, and the police say they can’t do anything until he does something more physically threatening. Apparently, playing mind games doesn’t count. He has to do something concrete.”
That’s always the case. Mental torture is far superior, and it’s much harder for law enforcement to deal with, especially when the target keeps moving. It’s virtually impossible to build a case among so many different jurisdictions. That’s one reason the most prolific serial killers generally kill across state lines.
Roy Wilks is a cunning little jackal. It’s so simple to break a person. And you don’t even have to touch them to do that.
Just look at this girl. She wouldn’t be asking a man she barely knows for help if she hadn’t been driven almost to her breaking point. For all I know, she might be broken already.
“I can pay you,” she adds. “I have some money saved up. Just in case.” Just in case I need to hire somebody to take my brother out is what she really wants to say.
I raise my eyebrows. The last time I checked, she had nine thousand and fifty-six dollars and twenty-two cents in her bank account. According to the statements over the years, she’s been saving a little bit at a time, despite working minimum-wage jobs.
It came with sacrifice. She doesn’t go to movies, doesn’t go out, doesn’t buy anything except the bare essentials—clearance-rack clothes and shoes—and she eats only what’s cheapest. Given her reaction last night, I’m pretty sure she skips meals when she can.
The notion puts a nasty taste in my mouth. People who don’t need killing should eat.
“I can give you all of it,” she says, then nods for emphasis. “It’s all yours.”
“I don’t want your money,” I say.
Her chin comes up as fire sparks in her whiskey gaze. “Look, it’s not a small amount. I have almost ten grand.”
“I don’t care if you have ten billion.”
Her fingers tighten. Her hand is barely large enough to circle half my forearm, but she’s trying her best to hold on to me.
For a reason I can’t quite identify, I like that. And because I like it, I want to be a jerk about what she’s saying even though I’m going to say yes at the end anyway. I don’t want her knowing how much I enjoy this small contact.
Before I can say anything, her mouth firms. “Okay. I hate to have to use this, but… I know what you did last night.”
“You do?”
She nods.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
I give her a purposefully salacious smile. “I should update my security. I didn’t know you were watching me masturbate in the shower.”
Her face flushes.
I let my smile grow wider. “I came hard. Twice. Hope you enjoyed it. If I’d known you were watching, I would’ve—”
“No!” She hunches her shoulders as though just realizing how loud she was. “I meant,” she hisses, “I saw you at the house. The man in the news today who supposedly committed suicide. You…suicided him, didn’t you?”
Suicided. When did that become a verb? “You were there? At the house?”
“Yes.” She tries for a hard-bitten stare.
This is an amusing turn of events. I didn’t expect her to attempt to blackmail me. What’s next? Trying to strangle me into submission? She just might, from the desperation in her eyes. Whatever she got in the package from her stepbrother freaked the hell out of her.
Strangely enough, I want her to try to put her hands on my bare skin, even if it’s around my neck. Of course I’m too tall for her to strangle me while standing, so she’d have to pull me down to the ground, then straddle me, her inner thighs pressed tightly against my sides. As she strained—futilely—her hot breath would fan my face, her eyes burning into mine. When I’d had enough, it’d be child’s play to flip her over, watch her gasp while she was spread underneath my much bigger and stronger body. And I’d enjoy the realization dawning in those whiskey eyes that she was utterly in my power.
“I’m very willing to go to the police.” Her words break my thoughts.
I almost laugh. She honestly believes she was good enough to tail me without my noticing. Either she’s lost her better judgment, or she’s too desperate to think clearly.
“And I’ll tell them everything I saw,” she says, her hands in tight fists.
I let out a soft sigh. Her threat is about as serious as a kitten smacking a lion with its tiny paw. “And after I fed you dinner last night.”
Her throat works as she swallows. She shifts her weight and looks like she wishes she could sink into the concrete. Ashamed, aren’t you, little fawn? You have a functioning conscience. A liability in my business.
“That’s…different.” She can’t meet my gaze. Her face is red, too.
She’s cute. “Ah, yes. Say thank you for the sandwich, then run to the cops and put the man in jail. Two very different activities.”
“I don’t want to do that.”
“I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not for hire. I’m too busy with my job at the foundation as an assistant.”
Confusion crosses her pretty face. She probably thought I worked in security. Cute. Very cute.
I pull out some money from my pocket, then smack it square into her hand. “Here. Take this and buy yourself something nice.”
“Ow!” She gasps, but not because I just placed three hundred bucks in her hand. “What did you…?” she says numbly. She tries to look at her hand, but her legs start to fold.
I catch her and pick her up, like Prince Charming carrying his Cinderella. She grows increasingly limp, her eyes unfocused. “Wha…”
“Don’t worry.” I smile. “The needle’s very thin. You won’t even find the hole when you wake up.”
—–
“I could strip, too.”
And talk to him while he’s sitting there naked? Given how shameless he is, I doubt he’d cover himself. No. He’d sit there, one ankle over the other knee, and smoke his cigar and sip his water, like he has the world at his feet.
“That’s…okay,” I say finally.
“If you’re certain. Just let me know if you change your mind. I wouldn’t want a guest feeling uncomfortable.”
If you wanted me to feel comfortable, you’d give me my clothes back! But the words stay trapped in my mouth. Right now, that isn’t the point.
The point is, I’m in his home. Under his control. I could put up the best fight of my life, but it would be about as effective as a mouse fighting a panther. I really wish I’d been able to snag a knife from the kitchen.
“So. Now that you can’t just run off to the authorities when you hear answers you don’t like, talk. Tell me why you came to me.”
AUTHOR BIO
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Nadia Lee writes sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Born with a love for excellent food, travel and adventure, she has lived in four different countries, kissed stingrays, been bitten by a shark, ridden an elephant and petted tigers.
Currently, she shares a condo overlooking a small river and sakura trees in Japan with her husband and son. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading books by her favoriteauthors or planning another trip.
Vanessa Vale is the USA Today bestselling author of sexy romance novels, including her popular Bridgewater historical romance series and hot contemporary romances. With over one million books sold, Vanessa writes about unapologetic bad boys who don’t just fall in love, they fall hard. Her books are available worldwide in multiple languages in e-book, print, audio and even as an online game. When she’s not writing, Vanessa savors the insanity of raising two boys and figuring out how many meals she can make with a pressure cooker. While she’s not as skilled at social media as her kids, she loves to interact with readers.
Change with Me, an all new and stunning Hollywood romance filled with white-hot chemistry from New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby and 1,001 Dark Nights, is available now!
From New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby comes an all new novella set in her beloved With Me In Seattle series…
Zane Cooper. Hollywood royalty. Fourth generation superstar. He knows what it is to be one of the biggest celebrities in the world. And how lonely that title truly is. When scandal hits, his career hangs in the balance, and Zane flees LA for Seattle, laying low with his newly married best friend. Things will eventually blow over, and he’ll have his life back soon enough.
Aubrey Stansfield arrives in Seattle excited to start a new job, and eager to settle into her new home. But when she arrives at her rental, Aubrey’s sure she’s imagining things because the uber sexy Zane Cooper is unpacking in her new bedroom. Thanks to a rental snafu, and unwilling to relocate on such short notice, Aubrey and Zane are thrust into being roommates.
Aubrey is about as average as a woman gets, so what could the megastar possibly see in her? She tells herself she’s not interested, despite their undeniable chemistry. But Zane is very persuasive, and soon Aubrey finds herself playing house with the most recognized man on the planet. Deep down, she knows it’s all a fantasy. He’ll head back to his posh lifestyle soon and leave her behind. No way could she fall in love with him.
But love doesn’t always follow the rules…
**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you’ll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
My heart jumps, and my stomach jolts as I spin and see a man walk out of the master bath. He’s tall. He’s frowning.
And he looks familiar.
“The question is, who are you?” Why did I leave my purse—and my mace—in the kitchen?
“You’re in my condo,” he retorts.
“No, you’re in my condo,” I reply and cross my arms over my chest, trying to look mean. “This is two-oh-three A. Mine. If you’re going to murder-death-kill me, I’m going to ask you to take today off and do it to someone else because I’ve had a long drive, and I need to get ready for my new job. Now, see yourself out.”
Is that me, sounding all calm and collected?
I’m never this calm. Or collected.
Seattle is clearly good for me.
“I hate to burst your bubble,” the stranger replies, “but I’m not leaving. I leased this place, and I’m moving in today.”
“But.” I frown. “I leased this place. And I’m moving in today.”
I stomp out of the bedroom and head straight for the kitchen, opening my bag to retrieve my phone.
I also set my mace on the counter, just in case.
“I can show you the lease.”
“Same,” he replies. “Landlord fucked up.”
I blink, open my mouth, then close it again.
“What’s in here?” He opens my pink box and surveys the goods. “These cake donuts are my weakness.”
Before my eyes, he grabs one and takes a big bite.
“So now you’re stealing my house and my food?”
“I didn’t steal anything,” he says with a full mouth. “Well, except the donut.”
“You’re going to have to move,” I inform him. “I already paid for the first month and the security deposit.”
“I paid six months in advance,” he says, swallows, and then smiles. Suddenly, I know exactly where I’ve seen him before.
This is Zane Cooper. The actor. The celebrity.
He must see the recognition in my eyes because his go ice-cold.
“I can’t afford to find a new place,” I inform him. “It took me a month to find this one. And it’s perfect for me. It’s less than six blocks from the school I’ll be teaching at, so I can walk every day. And it’s furnished. Plus, it’s close to the water.”
“Definitely perfect,” he agrees.
“Oh my God, why are you here?” I demand and prop my hands on my hips. “You’re a gazillionaire. You could literally go anywhere. Why do you want my condo?”
“I’m not a gazillionaire,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m more of a trazillionaire.”
“Pretty sure that’s the same thing. So, go build your own building and live in it.”
“Nah.” He picks a piece of donut out of his teeth and shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think I will. I’ll stay here.”
I blink at him and start to feel helpless. My savings is in this place. I don’t have enough left to rent anything else.
And I don’t have time. I start work in just three days.
Part of me wants to cry, but I’ll be damned if I let this hoity-toity movie star see me upset.
So, I do the only thing I can think of.
I prop my fist on the opposite hand in a challenge of rock, paper, scissors.
“What are you doing?” he asks, raising one sexy eyebrow.
“The adult thing,” I reply primly. “Best out of three wins?”
He blinks twice, looks from my hands to my face and back again, then shrugs one muscular shoulder and assumes the position.
“Fine,” he says. “I’m going to win—wait. What’s your name?”
“Aubrey,” I say and lick my lips. “Aubrey Stansfield. And you’re Wyatt Earp.”
His lips twitch into a half-smile. “I only played him on TV.”
I chuckle and say, “Ready?”
“Go,” he says, and we thump our fists three times.
I land on scissors.
He fists for rock.
Damn it.
“Let’s go again,” Zane says.
One. Two. Three.
I land on paper.
He chooses rock again.
I grin, and his blue eyes smile back.
There’s a reason Zane Cooper is the hottest sex symbol in the world. Good God, I might combust just from standing next to him.
All the more reason to get him out of my house.
“Last one,” I say. “Go.”
One. Two. Three.
I land on paper again, assuming Zane only knows how to use rock.
But he forms scissors.
I breathe deeply and reach for my last damn donut.
“That’s mine,” he says, and I whirl on him.
“This is mine,” I reply hotly. “I stood in a bloody line in Portland for it, just this morning. I drove all the way here from Arizona. I’m tired. I’m a little scared. And now I have you in my house, and you won’t leave. Even better than that, you just stole it out from under me.”
“I won it,” he reminds me. “Fair and square. The donut, that is.”
I stop and frown at him. “Huh?”
“I won the donut. In the rock-paper-scissors game.”
“I was playing for the condo, Wyatt.”
He barks out a laugh. “Not me. I want that donut.”
About Kristen Proby
Kristen was born and raised in a small resort town in her beloved Montana. In her mid-twenties, she decided to stretch her wings and move to the Pacific Northwest, where she made her home for more than a dozen years.
During that time, Kristen wrote many romance novels and joined organizations such as RWA and other small writing groups. She spent countless hours in workshops, and more mornings than she can count up before the dawn so she could write before going to work. She submitted many manuscripts to agents and editors alike, but was always told no. In the summer of 2012, the self-publishing scene was new and thriving, and Kristen had one goal: to publish just one book. It was something she longed to cross off of her bucket list.
Not only did she publish one book, she’s since published close to thirty titles, many of which have hit the USA Today, New York Times and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists. She continues to self publish, best known for her With Me In Seattle and Boudreaux series, and is also proud to work with William Morrow, a division of HarperCollins, with the Fusion Series.
Kristen and her husband, John, make their home in her hometown of Whitefish, Montana with their two pugs and two cats.
DL Gallie is from Queensland, Australia, but she’s lived in many different places all over the world. She currently resides in Gladstone with her husband and two kids. She and her husband have been together since she was sixteen, and although they drive each other crazy at times, she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
Shortly after her son was born, DL began reading again. With encouragement from her husband, she picked up the pen and started writing, and now the voices in her head won’t shut up.
DL enjoys listening to music, drinking white wine in the summer, red wine in the winter, and beer all year round. She’s also never been known to turn down a cocktail, especially a margarita.
Title: Stocking Stuffers A Christmas Romance Anthology
Authors: Shanna Swenson, JD Park, Nicole Rodrigues, Kyra Fox, Melissa Williams, JC Jaye, Morgan James, Sutton Fox & ML Preston Genre: Contemporary Romance Release Date: November 25, 2021
BLURB
Christmas really is the BEST time of year–for romance that is!
These best-selling romance authors have teamed up to bring you contemporary romance shorts that will make your holiday extra steamy!
JD Park, Shanna Swenson, Nicole Rodrigues, Morgan James, JC Jaye, Kyra Fox, ML Preston, Melissa Williams, and Sutton Fox have written nine romantic short stories worth stuffing in your stocking. Covering tropes from second chance, workplace romance, fake boyfriends, age gap, and much more, this collection is sure to add some spiceto your holiday festivities and really get you into the Christmas spirit.
**ALL proceeds from this anthology will go to the nonprofit charity, St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, for children with cancer.
Two Dominants. One a Navy SEAL. One a Mistress facing a hell she can’t escape. Luckily, hell is just another day at the office for a SEAL…
At Her Service, an all new not to be missed erotic romance from award winning author Joey W. Hill is available now!
Abigail Rose is CFO for Thomas Rose Associates, a successful New Orleans marketing firm she runs with her best friend Rosalinda Thomas, and their three fellow executives, Cyn, Vera and Skye.
Since all five are Dommes, they work and play together. However, Abby has lived with the threat of a severe mental illness for most of her life, and now the monster has come out of the shadows. Everything that defines her–including her control as a Mistress–is shattering.
Neil Shepherd is so calm under pressure, his SEAL teammates know he’ll hold the line, no matter what goes down on a mission. At home, he finds his peace navigating the waters of the Louisiana bayou. As a Dom himself, he shouldn’t be attracted to Abby, but Fate doesn’t consult the power exchange playbook when it comes to who is meant to be together. From the first time they meet, he knows he wants her.
Even the shadows that are trying to claim her won’t stop him.
Joey W. Hill writes about vampires, mermaids, boardroom executives, cops, witches, angels, simple housemaids . . . pretty much wherever inspiration takes her. She’s penned over forty acclaimed titles and six award-winning series, and been awarded the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for Erotica. But she’s especially proud and humbled to have won the support and enthusiasm of a wonderful, widely diverse readership. So why erotic romance? “Writing great erotic romance is all about exploring the true face of who we are – the best and worst – which typically comes out in the most vulnerable moments of sexual intimacy.” She has earned a reputation for writing BDSM romance that not only wins her fans of that genre, but readers who would “never” read BDSM romance. She believes that’s because strong, compelling characters are the most important part of her books. “Whatever genre you’re writing, if the characters are captivating and sympathetic, the readers are going to want to see what happens to them. That was the defining element of the romances I loved most and which shaped my own writing. Bringing characters together who have numerous emotional obstacles standing in their way, watching them reach a soul-deep understanding of one another through the expression of their darkest sexual needs, and then growing from that understanding into love – that’s the kind of story I love to write.” Take the plunge with her, and don’t hesitate to let her know what you think of her work, good or bad. She thrives on feedback!
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