When she was only 15, Kaylene Winter wrote her first rocker romance novel starring a fictionalized version of herself, her friends and their gorgeous rocker boyfriends. After living her own rockstar life as a band manager, music promoter and mover and shaker in Seattle during the early 1990’s, Kaylene became a digital media legal strategist helping bring movies, television and music online. Throughout her busy career, Kaylene lost herself in romance novels across all genres inspiring her to realize her life-long dream to be a published author. She lives in Seattle with her amazing husband and dog. She loves to travel, throw lavish dinner parties and support charitable causes supporting arts and animals.
Melanie Summers is here to tell us about Until the Truth Comes Out, contemporary romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Until the Truth Comes Out: A Novel
Melanie Summers
Publication date: February 5th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A rockstar at the height of his fame.
A wife on the edge.
A secret that can’t stay hidden.
And a single night that will change everything.
In the spring of 1997, Zane McCreight and his wife, Sienna, appear to have it all—sold-out stadiums, magazine covers, and the perfect family. But behind the image, their marriage is fracturing, and a scandal is quietly spiraling out of control.
As Zane’s band prepares for a massive tribute concert in the desert—under the eerie glow of the Hale-Bopp comet—tensions rise. Lies are told. Loyalties are tested. And two women find themselves trapped between ambition, betrayal, and the impossible weight of motherhood.
Then, on the night of the show—while the world is watching the stage—the youngest two McCreight children vanish.
Emotionally complex and deeply character-driven, Until the Truth Comes Out is a gripping tale of fame, marriage, the devastating cost of keeping secrets—and the strength of the women left to carry it all.
The Concert Under the Comet was set to take place just as Hale-Bopp reached its closest distance to Earth. There had been some concern all week that a bank of clouds might ruin the show. But thankfully, they drifted away that morning, allowing the stars—and the single streak of light that would get twenty-thousand rock fans out into the Mojave Desert on a cool spring Saturday night—to show themselves.
But it wasn’t only the comet they’d come to see (all of them either wildly rich or beautiful enough that someone with money would shell out eight thousand dollars for a single ticket). It was the lineup of stars. The biggest names in the music industry were there, several of whom would take the stage together for the first and last time. It would be televised around the globe, making it bigger than the original Woodstock. More important than Live Aid ‘85. Filled with more star power than a Vanity Fair Oscar party. It was a tribute to a dead legend. The rise of a new star. The end of innocence for one lost teenager. It would be the greatest reconciliation of any celebrity couple in history. Or it would be their demise. Those last two things would remain up in the air until morning.
The location was a well-guarded secret. It had to be if they were going to keep the riffraff away. The riffraff could watch via pay-per-view for a whopping $49.95 (the highest priced pay-per-view event up to that point in time). The record label executives, production team, and cable provider were certain the riffraff would be all too happy to pool their cash so they could say they’d been a part of it when they got to work the following Monday. They were right.
Two hours before sundown, the audience would be brought to the location in a steady stream of air-conditioned buses, limousines, and town cars. The lights would go up. The music would play. People would cheer themselves hoarse and drink and dance and sing along (most of them off-key, depending on how many drinks they had). When they’d go back to Las Vegas, their drivers would turn on the heat for their now-chilly, exhausted passengers. The drivers would be relieved they weren’t rowdy and out of control. Instead, they were dead quiet as the shock of what happened lingered.
That afternoon, five-month-old Elliott (who always went straight to sleep in the car) dozed through the long ride under the bright afternoon sun. Later, when the sky grew dark, his mother, Claudia Crawford, would point up at it and tell him about the comet, knowing he wouldn’t understand, but hoping it would somehow leave a faint imprint on his fresh, new mind. Claudia would give the performance of a lifetime that night. She was the only woman who’d been part of The Vows, but she wouldn’t play with them that evening. She would go on alone for reasons the audience wouldn’t understand until after.
Claudia had planned to leave little Elliott back at the hotel in Vegas with her very reliable French nanny. Only the nanny went out dancing the night before and never came back, so Claudia was forced to bring him to the desert and leave him in the care of two teenage girls she barely knew. But everything would be fine. Elliott would be safely tucked away in a holiday trailer nearby with the girls watching over him, and Claudia would only be gone for forty-five minutes. An hour tops.
But of course, that’s not what happened. Things ran late, as they do at these events, and she ended up leaving him for the better part of two hours. By the time she returned to the trailer, it would be empty.
Before long, she would find herself groping her way through the impossibly dark desert, screaming his name, gripped by a panic that only fills a parent whose child has vanished. It would occur to her that she might never again hold her baby. Never press his chubby cheek to hers, never smell his neck, never hear him laugh again. She might never hear him speak his first words or watch him take his first steps. What if he never got to do those things? What if he was already dead?
Her knees would give out, and she’d slide to the cold ground, and she’d be disgusted at herself for letting her emotions overwhelm her. She’d be hauled to her feet and ordered to keep going by the last person on earth she expected to help. Although her companion was only there because her child was missing too.
Author Bio:
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.
Beth Rinyu is here to tell us about The Rewrite, a contemporary romantic comedy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Rewrite
Beth Rinyu
Publication date: January 29th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
How long would you hold a grudge?
If you’re Eloise Hendrickson, the answer is twenty-five years. After being humiliated by her overseas pen pal in seventh grade, Eloise, now a successful writer, has never quite let go of that one mortifying moment. One bad breakup, a late night of drunken internet sleuthing, and a half-baked excuse to bust through writer’s block send her straight into the path of the boy she’s hated her whole life.
Her plan? Turn him into the villain of her next novel.
The plot twist? He’s not the jerk she remembers.
Instead, he’s a charming chocolatier, a devoted family man, and awkwardly, a huge fan of her books. But as Eloise reconnects with the past, it’s not him who captures her attention, it’s someone else entirely. Someone unexpected. He’s rude, infuriating, and gets under her skin like no one else. He’s the exact opposite of the heroes she creates and the men she dates.
With new friends, a fresh perspective, and possibly the beginnings of something romantic—Eloise must decide if she’s finally ready to let go of the perfection she’s always demanded from herself as well as everyone around her, and embrace the unpredictable, wonderfully flawed life waiting for her. Maybe her next bestseller won’t be about righting the past after all. Maybe it will be about rewriting the future instead.
Warning: This book may contain chocolate and possibly a happily ever after.
“Okay, so if booty calls are off the table. What about a friendship? Seeing he’s such a decent guy? You’re a lonely woman in a strange country. He’s an available strapping man. Maybe it would be nice to have someone just to hang out with. I mean… not someone like you and me someone. Let’s face it, I’m irreplaceable.”
“No,” I cut in. “Like I said, he’s nice. For someone else. Whether it’s sex or friendship, I’m not interested. And for the record, I’m not lonely.”
“Yes, yes, how could I forget, your social circle now includes preteens and senior citizens.”
“I happen to like my new friends, both young and old.”
“Ella, honey.” Charlie gave me that look that was equal parts exasperated and concerned. “All I’m saying is, maybe this is your moment to let your hair down a little. You’re always so tightly wound, and this breakup didn’t exactly loosen the screws. Maybe it’s time to expand your horizons. Try something different. Someone different. Maybe this guy is the kind of non-Kent energy you need.”
“Okay, when did you get a PHD in Psychology?” I snapped.
“Reading radar maps and reading the human psyche are kind of the same thing. Both are temperamental and can change in a heartbeat,” he teased.
“Charlie, I love and appreciate you, but stick to doing the weather. You’re much better at that!”
“One last question, and then I promise I’ll ixnay the subject.” “What?” I didn’t even try to hide my annoyance.
“Do you call him Mr. Moreau or Grace’s daddy?”
“Goodbye, Charlie!” I blew him a kiss and disconnected our call.
Author Bio:
I've always had a passion for Creative Writing. There's something special about being able to travel to a different place or become a different person with just the stroke of a pen—or in today's world, a tap of the keyboard. Maybe it all started with the soap opera-level drama I used to script for my Barbie dolls. Plot twists, emotional arcs, surprise twins... it was basically a writer’s room before I even knew what one was. Whatever the spark, storytelling quickly became my favorite creative outlet. I craft stories that keep me on my toes and constantly push me beyond my comfort zone. Deep characters you either root for or love to hate are the ones I’m most drawn to.
Exploring new places helps me uncover fresh and exciting settings for my books, but there’s nothing quite like a quiet walk in the woods or sitting by the ocean close to home. Turns out, plot twists and inspiration arrive just as easily with a sea breeze—or a few curious squirrels.
Kasey Fallon is here to tell us about her contemporary romance Lifestyle: Trust Fall.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Lifestyle: Trust Fall
Kasey Fallon
Publication date: January 27th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
She needs a Dom.
A stalker wants to own her.
And once you’re in it, the LifeStyle never lets go.
On the outskirts of Philadelphia, the LifeStyle Club caters to those with certain… tastes.
Grayson is a born Dominant – and owning LifeS is exactly where he belongs. With a new underground fight arena ready to launch, he’s missing only one thing: a fighter strong enough to survive it.
Lexi has survived worse.
Haunted by PTSD, Lexi trusts no one but herself. She runs her own gym, makes her own rules, and refuses to submit – to anyone. But beneath her iron control lies a perilous secret. One that threatens to consume her… unless she can find a Dom.
When Grayson and Lexi collide, desire isn’t the only thing at stake.
Someone is watching.
Someone wants Lexi.
And in the LifeStyle, submission can be salvation – or a deadly mistake.
She couldn’t seem to find the clasp, and her breath was coming in short bursts. Her shirt felt too tight, her scalp was tingling, and in some part of her brain she was dimly aware that she was having a panic attack.
The gentle ding of the door opening didn’t register with her until a tall shadow fell across her. Attempting to breathe in a four-count, Lexi glanced up for less than a heartbeat at the baritone hello. She grunted in return and went back to hyperventilating, wishing they would walk away.
GRAYSON
For a moment, he was confused why she was hunched over on the bench. She was struggling with something… a necklace? Her breathing was coming in quick, uneven pants, and her gaze went straight through him.
“Good morning,” he tried casually.
He still had in mind that perhaps something he’d done or said the other day had been too much and she’d run. He had to be a little more tame, he thought. Casually being stalked, even for just one morning, was bound to put anyone on edge. At least until she was one hundred percent in, and he figured out what to do with her. But his good morning went unanswered.
Lexi made a garbled sound in the back of her throat, and he wondered if she was the opposite of a morning person. Or maybe-
“Do you need help?”
Her only response was those quick panting breaths. Her movements got more frantic, and she went to stand. Grayson placed a hand as gently as he could on her shoulder.
“Alexis. What’s wrong?”
She knocked his hand away and took two running steps to get past him. Panic. Without thinking it through, he caught up to her in one step. Spinning her around by her shoulder, he ignored the elbow that skimmed his diaphragm as she flailed behind her.
Using his forward momentum, he walked her backward until her back was against the wall. The white concrete must have been cool on her back, but her breath continued in short pants and a red flush was spreading across her chest and up into her face. She brought her hands up in fists and he thought for a heartbeat he might have to hold them down or he’d get hit. But her fingers just curled themselves into the edges of his t-shirt, grabbing on to something unidentifiable inside him. He ignored it.
She was looking at him, but she wasn’t seeing him. Her dark eyes were wide and wouldn’t focus, looking everywhere but into his. Both of his hands pushed her back against the wall by her ribcage.
“Alexis. Breathe.”
He used a deeper voice, mindful of startling her. Of course, he mused, she couldn’t get much more worked up than she already was. Maybe there was no harm in using his Dom voice. Much deeper than his speaking voice and sharp, he tried to reserve it for situations that needed it. This qualified.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he commanded.
Lexi jumped, but still didn’t look him in the eye. Her hands made their way to her throat, scratching at where her necklace lay. Grayson winced at the scratches. His voice whipped out.
“Stop.”
She stopped clawing at her own neck, but her breathing was still too fast.
“Breathe.”
It wasn’t working. He leaned forward, putting more of his weight against his arms. He slid his left forearm up between her breasts against her sternum, until his hand was splayed at the base of her throat, but he made sure to not actually touch her neck. She was having enough trouble breathing as it was.
One of her knees came up, and he pushed her thigh back with his knee against the wall, but it seemed like she didn’t even notice. Like the knee had been a reflex. He reached his right hand up to cup the side of her face and forced her face up to his.
“Look at me.”
It got through. Her breath was still heaving with shallow gasps, but she was looking straight up at him with wide eyes.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lexi shuddered slightly.
“I can’t breathe. It’s too tight.”
His eyes flicked down to the thin silver chain at her neck. It was actually a very long chain, and held only a thin butterfly at the end. His lack of response seemed to agitate her, and she clawed at her neck again, this time not even hitting the chain. He raised his left hand a couple of inches to block her own hands.
“Stop moving.”
Her eyes were watery, but she stopped moving. For someone who might not be an actual submissive, she was certainly… responsive.
“I don’t want to die again.”
Her voice came out in a strangled whisper. Her eyes pleaded up at him. Shocked, Grayson could only stare at her for a moment.
“Breathe. I won’t hurt you. Stop moving.”
His voice had gotten slower with the commands, and she seemed mesmerized by his unblinking stare. She finally stopped pushing against his hands and relaxed against the wall, taking rapid, shallow breaths.
With his left forearm holding her still up against her sternum, he used his left hand to grab at the chain’s little clasp. He didn’t want to look away from her. It was working; he was completely in charge. She was breathing more steadily, and he didn’t want to break their eye contact.
Grayson finally got it to release, although he thought some part of it might have snapped. He slid it off her neck and held it loosely in his hand, but he didn’t move otherwise. He didn’t think she’d noticed that the necklace was gone.
“It’s gone. Breathe.”
Lexi inhaled deeply, and he was finding it difficult to back away. She had responded so perfectly; exactly as he’d wanted her to. Maybe she wasn’t a Domme? Could she really be submissive under all this fight? His body took that moment to recognize that he had her securely pinned against a wall, and she was staring up at him, waiting. He could see the exact moment when she fought it off as her eyes snapped with clarity. Grayson heard footsteps coming at them fast as she blinked rapidly.
“Lexi! What the fuck? Who the fuck is this? Are you okay?” Eddie jogged up, his short dreads bouncing.
Author Bio:
Kasey grew up on the East Coast, from Maine to North Carolina. She loves two things above all in nature: the water, and the forest. While she might not love her nightmares, they do inspire many of her works. A recipient of the Editor's Choice Award from the International Library of Poetry, she writes across several genres. She and her dog can be found investigating new hiking trails, or curled up on the couch as he pushes her computer off her lap to make room for himself.
Mary Karlik is here to tell us about Had Me At Howdy, a Hillside* Spring Creek Novel, romantic comedy, contemporary romance, young adult.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Had Me At Howdy
Mary Karlik
(A Hillside * Spring Creek Novel)
Publication date: November 22nd 2025
Genres: Comedy, Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult
Platinum credit card? Deactivated. New car? Sold. Best life ever? Canceled.
Thanks to my dad losing his job, we’ve ditched Chicago for Fumbuck, Texas—population: redneck. Now I’m living on a rundown farm, scrubbing dishes, and driving a rusty pickup. Worst of all? I’m stuck working alongside a cowboy.
But this Cinderella isn’t giving up. I’ll claw my way back to the luxe life I left behind—and no one, not even infuriatingly chill, stupidly handsome Austin McCoy is going to stop me. Even if he does make feeding the chickens weirdly… enjoyable.
She thinks she’s just passing through. I’m hoping she stays.
I kind of feel for the Quinn sisters. City girls don’t belong in Spring Creek—but Kelsey? There’s more to her than designer labels and eye rolls. When she forgets to be angry, I see it—like the way her eyes light up when she feeds the chickens.
Now all I have to do is convince her the guy she really wants is me, not some rich dude taking her to a ball in Chicago.
Content Warning: This work contains a subplot involving death, grief, and an off-page instance of date rape. While these events are not depicted directly, they are referenced and may be distressing to some readers.
The universe had completely crapped on Kelsey Quinn’s life.
She dabbed at her eyes, blew her nose, and wadded up the tissue before dropping it to the pile on the seat next to her. Pressing her forehead against the car window, she watched the scenery fly by at seventy miles per hour. They passed Bob’s Stay and Go combination gas station—fast food restaurant—hotel, followed by some weird concrete starship-shaped pizza parlor. Next, three-foot fluorescent letters screamed about redemption across a junkyard fence surrounding rusted pieces of mangled metal. The few words of scripture painted there weren’t going change her fate. Her dad was in the driver’s seat and they were heading straight for the armpit of Texas.
With a sigh she slumped against the seat and tried not to think about the boyfriend who’d been ripped from her life, or the best friend she’d been forced to leave behind. But it wasn’t just her forced exile from Drew and Zoe. She’d lost her identity. At St. Monica’s, she knew who she was and where she fit in. It was her senior year, the year she’d looked forward to for as long as she was in school. They had taken it away with less thought than the car they’d sold one afternoon while she and Zoe were shopping. None of it was her fault. She was a victim of her dad’s incompetence on one hand and her sister’s immorality on the other.
Her dad exited onto a two-lane highway where they were greeted by a faded, Welcome to Hillside Texas, Population 5000, sign. They slowed to a crawl as they entered the town. At a four-way stop her mom screeched, “Oh my God Tom, look at the cute little diner. We’re all starving, let’s stop before we go to the house.”
“Sounds good to me. Jack’s not expecting us for another couple of hours anyway.” Dad angled the Infinity between two pickup trucks and turned off the engine.
Her younger sister, Ryan, looked all wide-eyed and curious. And worse, she actually looked excited to investigate this hick little town. Why not? It was her fault they were in this mess in the first place. Her parents would have been justified to ship Ryan off to some kind of school for troubled kids. But no—Quinns don’t give up on their own. Everybody had to suffer because Ryan couldn’t say no to drugs or boys.
Mackenzie, Kelsey’s youngest sister, flipped her compact gymnast’s body from the third seat to the back seat nailing Ryan in the shoulder with her foot.
“Watch it!” Ryan drew her fist back, but before she could get the hit off Mackenzie flashed a cherub smile and released a powder sugar apology. Yeah. That wasn’t an accident. Kelsey almost smiled when she saw foot impact with shoulder. Mackenzie had been fairly silent about the ruin Ryan’s exploits had done to her life. Apparently, she had her limits too.
Mary Karlik (also writing as Mary J. Wilson) combines her Texas roots with her Scottish heritage to write happily-ever-afters from Texas to Scotland.
Mary has five indie-published contemporary young adult romance novels and two fantasy novels.
Mary earned her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, has a B.S. degree from Texas A&M University, and is currently studying Scottish Gaelic at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig in Skye, Scotland. She is also a certified, professional ski instructor and a Registered Nurse.
Mary is an active member of Contemporary Romance Writers, Romance Writers of America, and Dallas Area Romance Authors. Married to a Scott, Mary lives in both and Scotland and Texas.
Sharon C. Cooper is here to tell us about Surrendering to You, book 3 in the Priestly Family Series, contemporary romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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His betrayal cost him the only woman he has ever loved.
Now,
he’s determined to win her back.
Surrendering To You
Priestly Family Series Book 3
by Sharon C. Cooper
Genre: Contemporary Romance
His betrayal cost him the only woman he has ever loved.
Now, he’s determined to win her back.
On the football field Tristan Whitmore might be an MVP, but
after a recent career-ending injury, his world is flipped upside down. He takes
little comfort in his many NFL achievements and a bank account bulging with
more money than he could ever spend. His life feels like it’s over… until he
reconnects with the one woman he’s never forgotten. Too bad she hates him.
Entertainment lawyer, Cree Priestly is not the forgiving
type. Betray her once, and you’re dead to her. Which is why Tristan will never
get a second chance with her. She lost too much the last time he charmed her
into falling in love with him. Letting that happen again would make her a fool.
But when he kisses her, all the buried memories of love, desire, and passionate
nights come rushing back.
But can Cree afford to surrender her heart to Tristan again?
Or are some betrayals impossible to move past?
*All books in this
series can be read as standalones.
“He’s not
my anything,” Cree ground out. “And I think this is a good time to end our
visit. I need to get going anyway. We can talk about Dorian’s wedding later.”
“Cree,
stop. Just talk to him. It’s been years, and you both deserve some closure.”
“I got
closure when I told him to lose my damn telephone number and to go to hell.”
Cree knew
she was being a jerk, but Tristan was still a sore topic with her. Seeing him
again brought back too many memories, and they weren’t all good.
She
gathered her large bag, which doubled as a purse and laptop carrier, and then
she grabbed her trash.
“I’m out
of here,” she said and blew her sister a kiss before walking away.
If Cree
was lucky, she might be able to slip past Tristan without him seeing her. He’d
been forced to retire from the NFL, the National Football League, after an
injury, and she’d heard he had moved back to Chicago.
God, she
hoped that wasn’t true. They probably traveled in the same circles, and that
would mean there was a good chance she’d run into him more than she’d prefer.
Taking
advantage of the crowd that surrounded him, Cree moved around the perimeter of
the space and kept her head down while making her way to the door. She had
barely touched the handle before she jolted from the feel of a large hand on
her hip.
She froze,
but not before a zap of energy flowed through her body at his touch. She knew
that touch. Hell, she’d feel that touch even if she had on three layers of
clothing. Tristan had always had that effect on her.
“Cree, wait. We need to talk,” he said by way
of greeting. His deep baritone sent goosebumps racing over her skin. She didn’t
want to talk, and she sure as hell didn’t want to look at him, but she had to.
When she
turned to face him, anger nipped at every nerve in her body. Damn him for
looking so good. He was still the finest man on the face of the planet with
honey-brown skin, eyes the color of almonds with flecks of gold around his
irises, and twin dimples in his cheeks.
As if
knowing she was admiring his beautiful face, he amped up his smile, and she
cursed under her breath.
Damn those
twin dimples. The ones deep enough in his cheeks to stick her fingers in. And
damn him for flashing them so freely in public knowing they were babe magnets.
“We have
nothing to talk about,” she spat, anger lacing the words.
“On the
contrary, baby. We have a lot to discuss.”
Cree
turned from him and moved just beyond the threshold, but he held on to the back
of her jacket while he stood in the doorway. He didn’t seem to care he was
blocking the entrance, keeping anyone from entering or exiting. The small crowd
that had formed around him minutes ago was still there, vying for the attention
of the other former NFL player whose name had slipped her mind.
As for
Tristan, Cree didn’t want to talk to him. That would only encourage him to keep
showing up everywhere she went.
No, she
needed to stay as far away from the man as possible. His presence was a
hindrance to her peace of mind. It was because of him that she had trust
issues, especially when it came to men. He was the reason she had taken on the
motto—don’t let anyone get too close because in the end they’ll only betray
you.
“The old
Cree didn’t run from anything,” he said, his voice lowered. “Yet, you’ve run
from me twice in a matter of weeks.”
Her jaw
clenched and unclenched. “The old Cree would’ve already kneed you in the balls
to make you release my jacket. Either let me go or...”
Tristan
flinched, then quickly released her jacket and chuckled. “I see you’re still
mean as hell.” The words weren’t spoken in a negative way. There was humor in
his tone and in his eyes. “Please,” he said, all humor wiped from his face. “I
really do need to talk to you.”
Cree
searched his eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She almost gave in to his
request until she remembered—she hated him.
“There’s
nothing for us to discuss. As a matter of fact, forget you ever saw me, and if
you see me out and about, don’t even look at me.
“And on
that note, goodbye, Tristan.”
Now all
she had to do was forget she’d ever seen him. Which might be easier said than
done.
Don’t miss the
rest of the series! They can be read as standalones!
USA Today
bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a
happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys
rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won
numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her
Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award
(2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing
husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To
read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her
latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net
