Lindsey Gray is here to tell us about Nerdy Girl Nell, Nerdy Girl Novels #2, contemporary sports romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Nerdy Girl Nell
Lindsey Gray
(Nerdy Girl Novels, #2)
Publication date: March 17th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Sports
Nell De Lacy loves small things like story time, a well-stocked bookshelf, and evenings with friends. Relearning how to date after grief was supposed to be the hardest thing.
Enter professional wrestler Chance Robicheaux. Towering, tender, and utterly relentless about keeping her safe. The two become friends first, spending nights learning each other’s quirks. Between hospital rooms and poker nights, the two find something electric and real.
Nell’s life suddenly fractures with a violent assault, a cache of stolen images, and a blackmailer who won’t be denied. As the threat tightens and the press draws near, Nell’s voice, literally and figuratively, fails her at the worst possible time.
With the De Lacy family company’s December board vote approaching, Nell faces a critical challenge that threatens to upend her life. The outcome of the vote carries the risk of awarding a coveted contract to the wrong people, forcing Nell to balance family loyalty, legal danger, and a secret that could change everything.
Nell and Chance’s is a story about rebuilding, of finding courage in therapy and friendship, and discovering there’s strength in asking for help. Nell’s fight becomes Chance’s fight, and soon they choose to fight evil together. Will justice arrive before the quiet she loves is gone forever?
“This honey pot just got a whole lot sweeter.” Chance Robicheaux licked his lips and tossed in a few plastic chips. The cards in his hand were the best he’d held the entire night.
He peered around the table of friends as they partook in their newly minted Wednesday poker night. Rob Breyer, Chance’s closest friend and wrestling tag team partner, concentrated on his hand. Rob’s girlfriend, Emma MacLean, rolled her eyes at Chance’s comment, then winked at him when she glanced his way. The dealer and his new sidekick, Seamus De Lacy, took a sip of his drink while the rest of the players made their decisions.
Chance’s eyes landed on the last member of the table; he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from moaning. Emma’s roommate, Nell De Lacy, stared at him with a slight look of awe mixed with determination, which he found fucking irresistible. The woman had driven him mad since their first meeting over a bowl of potato salad to his crotch. No matter what the situation, one glimpse of Nell, her auburn hair in those cute as hell space buns and perfectly pouty lips, had him hard in three seconds flat.
“I fold.” Rob placed his cards on the table and slumped in his chair.
“I’ve got nothing.” Emma tossed in her cards, then slid her arm around Rob’s shoulders. “This isn’t our night.”
Chance lifted his eyes to Nell’s. “What about you, Nell?”
The corner of Nell’s lips that Chance spent hours fantasizing about curled upward. “I’ll see you.” She tossed in enough to match Chance’s bet. “And I’ll raise you.” She counted out the rest of her chips and placed them in the pot.
Chance could tell she was confident about the hand she possessed. She had her tells as much as anyone else did. The smirk she wielded always made him pull out of the game. Not tonight, though. She’d gone all in, but he’d go a bit more.
“All right.” He determined the required chips to call but decided to raise to find out what she had to offer.
“You can’t do that!” Her confidence turned to anger.
“I sure can. I’m willing to make a deal if you think your hand is still as worthy as it was a moment ago.” Chance’s heart thumped in his chest while he stared her down, praying she would give in.
“What kind of deal?” she asked.
Chance grabbed the pad of paper and pen beside him and wrote down what he wanted. He slid it to her.
She picked it up and read his chicken scratch. “This…” The words clogged her throat as heat moved up to color her face.
“You place that in the pot. I win; you deliver. You win; you can rip it up.”
Nell opened and closed her mouth, then pressed her plump lips in a firm line. She pushed the slip across the table. “I call. Show me what you’ve got.”
Chance peered into her brilliant emerald eyes as he laid each card down one by one. Her face paled. “Royal flush.”
“Damn,” she murmured, and she laid her cards down face up.
“Full House. Not bad, but not good enough tonight.” Chance licked his lips in anticipation of his winnings.
Emma glanced between the two. “What did he win?”
Nell placed her palms on the table, her cheeks tinged pink. “A kiss.”
Author Bio:
Lindsey Gray is a writer, an over-thinker, and a chronic list-maker, but her passion for writing stories you'll love always tops the list. Her author journey began in 2010 with the publication of her first novel, and she has spent the last decade creating worlds for readers to play in. In addition to her own work, Gray utilizes her skills formatting novels for other authors and hosts the weekly show, Gray Matters, on TMV Cafe Internet Radio. She lives and writes fueled by iced tea, her handsome hubby, and the beautiful chaos of mothering her children.
Cara Dee is here to tell us about The Memories We Made: Remembering Us: Part I of II, The Game Series #16, contemporary LGBTQ+ romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Memories We Made: Remembering Us: Part I of II
Cara Dee
(The Game Series, #16)
Publication date: March 6th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, LGBTQ+, Romance
The Game Series, #16 • Standalone • Duet • Book 1 of 2 • Hurt/Comfort • Family • Dom/Dom • Opposites Attract
Ash and Nathan’s story begins on a blistering day in Philadelphia, with a rough-around-the-edges scaffolder yelling outside the office of a trauma specialist. Psychology major Nate decides to give this brute a piece of his mind.
The friends who told me to move on didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. Moving on wasn’t happening—and I knew that better than anyone after being trapped at the bottom of a heartbreak for an excruciating year now, where I had nothing but crippling anxiety and our memories to torture me. Everything we’d built, the family we’d created, the pictures, that damn National Parks passport, the ring on my finger, echoes of laughter and promises… I’d been there, watching you, being your test subject, as you’d become the rope rigger you were today. With amusement glinting in your eyes, you’d called me the OG bondage bunny. Me, the primal predator, who thought about chasing brats through the woods, your bondage bunny.
We’d given each other laugh lines. We’d loved so damn hard. We’d stood in front of our friends and family and vowed to fight for us forever.
Almost twenty years together. Four beautiful children.
What the hell happened, Nate?
You didn’t have to tell me. I already knew. I was a coward. I’d let my fears hold us back.
The question now was if I still stood a chance, because…frankly, living without you was impossible.
I’d do anything to get you back.
The Game Series is a BDSM series where romance meets the reality of kink. Sometimes we fall for someone we don’t match with, sometimes vanilla business gets in the way of kinky pleasure, and sometimes we have to compromise and push ourselves to overcome trauma and insecurities. No matter what, one thing is certain. This is not a perfect world—and maybe that’s why the happily ever after feels so good.
If his boss got off work at five PM, the yuppie should work similar hours, right?
I checked my watch and then squinted up at the building.
Five minutes past five.
A breath gusted out of me, and I ran a hand through my hair.
This was stupid. I should just head home, get out of my work clothes, and take a long shower.
And yet…I couldn’t shake the urge to smooth things over with the yuppie. In all the chaos earlier, and the damn heat, I’d misinterpreted what Garcia had said. Now I could recall his saying that several people had complained about the noise, and I’d applied it all to this suit guy. But all he’d mentioned was my creative use of words. He hadn’t technically bitched about the noise.
Hold up, is that him?
I held up a hand to shield my eyes from the late-afternoon sun, and I zeroed in on the guy coming out from the building.
It was him. He had put on his messenger bag, and he had a bike helmet in one hand.
Totally fit my impression of him. Yuppie on a bicycle.
I cleared my throat and trailed closer as he aimed for the row of bikes next to the stairs.
“Oi. Glasses.” I figured it was a better nickname than Yuppie.
Hey, it worked.
He threw a frown over his shoulder.
I gestured at myself. “The paste-eater from earlier.”
The frown faded, but he definitely nailed the standoffish vibe. “Now I remember.”
Okay, he had the biting, dry sense of humor down.
“I cut the goddammits and motherfuckers to a minimum after our productive chat,” I offered.
He unlocked his bike and stuffed the chain into his messenger bag. “My boss mentioned an improvement.” He side-eyed me. “Did you just get off work?”
“Half an hour ago,” I replied. “It’s possible I felt bad for how I acted earlier, so I decided to see if you were on your way out too.”
“I am. After a lovely day here, I’m looking forward to my evening shift at a hotel in Center City,” he drawled.
Oh damn. “That blows. I’m sorry about today, man. I won’t piss you off tomorrow, I promise.”
“Are you sure? You seem to have a knack for it.” He put on his helmet. Then he sighed and pulled out his bike. “Maybe I could’ve handled things better too.”
I smiled. “Water under the bridge.”
Except, now I kinda wanted this little meeting to run longer. He really was hot, and considering he’d checked me out before, it didn’t seem unlikely he was gay. A guy had to give it a go, didn’t he? My weekend was open.
“So, uh…do you have enough time to get something to eat before work?” I asked. “There’s a place down the street. They water down anything alcoholic, but their chips and guacamole are out of this world.”
He knitted his brows together. “You wanna spend happy hour with me?”
I’d prefer a date, but we could call it happy hour between two strangers.
“Of course.” I shrugged. “I obviously want a moment to explain myself. I didn’t fucking eat paste as a kid. I ate crayons.”
Fuck yeah, he actually smiled. “Okay. Happy hour sounds good.”
Fucking A.
Author Bio:
Romance Across the Spectrum.
I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.
There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.
I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I'm a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
Long Temple is here to tell us about Rhythm & Design, The Rhythm & Design Series #1, contemporary romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Rhythm and Design
Long Temple
(The Rhythm and Design Series, #1)
Publication date: May 18th 2025
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A soulful architect. A gospel-rooted musician. A love built to last.
Rhythm and Design: A Platinum Chocolate Romanceis a powerful story of purpose, passion, and divine timing.
Claire Baldwin is used to building beauty from structure—dreaming in blueprints, raised among silver spoons and Ivy League expectations. Focused, brilliant, and untouchable, love was never part of the plan. Until one almost-mistake in her youth taught her the price of giving too much to someone who offered too little.
Oliver Jamison Graham, the son of a revered pastor, walked away from the pulpit and into the chaos of the music industry. Between neon stages and lonely hotel rooms, he searched for something sacred—something real. Music filled his nights, but his faith kept whispering him home.
When Claire and Oliver’s paths collide again, it isn’t just chemistry—it’s destiny. But building a life together means facing the unspoken: the pasts they’ve tucked away, the faith they’re still figuring out, and the families who’ve prayed them into purpose.
Together, they’ll navigate ambition, intimacy, trust, and spiritual alignment in a romance steeped in grace, humor, and honest love. Can two people from different rhythms create a design strong enough to stand?
If you love later-in-life second chances, clean-but-steamy romance, emotional depth, and characters who wrestle with faith as fiercely as they fall in love—Rhythm and Design will leave you breathless and blessed.
Claire adjusted the delicate strap of her silver gown, her fingers brushing the smooth satin as laughter and music drifted through the warm summer air. The garden shimmered beneath strands of soft white lights, each glow reflecting off crystal glasses and polished silver like tiny promises suspended in time.
Tonight was meant to be simple — a celebration, a farewell, a graceful closing of one chapter before she stepped into the life she had so carefully designed.
But life, she was learning, rarely followed clean lines.
She felt it before she saw him — a subtle shift in the atmosphere, like the hush that falls just before the first note of a song.
Oliver Graham stood near the stage, tall and steady, dressed in black that seemed to absorb the light around him. He carried himself with an ease that wasn’t practiced, just lived — the quiet confidence of a man who had known both applause and solitude, who understood the weight of purpose even in celebration.
Claire’s breath caught, surprising her.
It had been years, yet something about him felt familiar, like a melody she’d heard long ago but never fully released.
As if sensing her gaze, Oliver turned. Their eyes met across the veranda, and the world seemed to narrow to that single moment — music fading, conversations dissolving into a distant hum.
He didn’t smile right away. He simply looked at her, as though taking in the woman she had become, measuring something deeper than appearance.
Then came the slow curve of a knowing smile.
Heat crept up Claire’s neck, and she looked away, steadying herself with a sip of champagne that suddenly felt warmer than it should.
Moments later, his voice — smooth and rich — settled beside her like velvet.
“You’ve grown into everything they said you would,” he said softly. “Your parents couldn’t stop talking about you. Yale. Full scholarship. Future architect of the century.”
Claire laughed lightly, surprised by the warmth in his tone. “They said all that?”
“They should’ve said more,” he replied. “Yale’s lucky to have you.”
Something in her chest softened — a quiet recognition she hadn’t expected, like a door opening somewhere deep within her carefully guarded heart.
The music shifted, laughter swelling around them, but Claire felt as though she were standing inside a pocket of stillness.
“And you?” she asked. “Still changing the world one song at a time?”
Oliver smiled, a hint of humility softening his features. “Trying to. Mostly just trying to stay honest.”
Honest. The word lingered between them like a promise neither had spoken aloud.
When Oliver later stepped onto the stage, the crowd quieted instinctively, drawn to the calm gravity he carried. He adjusted the microphone, glanced toward Claire, and said, “I wrote this for tonight. It’s called Beyond the Horizon.”
The first notes drifted into the night like a prayer — tender guitar, soft percussion, a melody that seemed to breathe with its own quiet life.
Claire stood still as the lyrics wrapped around her, each word reflecting pieces of her journey — the late nights bent over drafting tables, the silent prayers whispered into the dark when doubt tried to settle in, the relentless pull toward something greater than comfort.
The road is wide, but your steps are sure, drawn to purpose, built to endure…
Her fingers tightened slightly around her glass as emotion rose unexpectedly, catching in her throat. She had spent so many years building strength, focusing forward, refusing distraction — yet here she was, undone by a song that seemed to see her more clearly than she saw herself.
Oliver’s voice carried warmth and depth, every note grounded in sincerity. When their eyes met mid-song, something unspoken passed between them — not a spark, but a steady flame, quiet and certain.
By the final note, silence lingered for a breath before applause rose like a wave across the garden. Claire barely heard it. Her hand rested lightly against her chest, as if holding something fragile and new.
Later, when the music shifted into a softer groove and guests drifted toward the dance floor, Oliver found her again near the edge of the veranda.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
Claire nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “I am now.”
They stood close, not touching, yet aware of each other in a way that felt both new and strangely familiar.
“I’m heading to New Haven tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Three weeks early. I want time to settle in… start fresh.”
Oliver’s expression softened, admiration flickering in his eyes. “That sounds exactly like you. Always building the next chapter before anyone else even sees the blueprint.”
She laughed softly. “You expected anything less?”
“Not a chance,” he said. “You’re building your future with intention. That’s rare.”
The music swelled around them, couples swaying beneath the lights, laughter rising into the warm night air.
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward — it felt full, like a pause meant to be savored.
“Don’t disappear on me,” Oliver said finally, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to Yale, not Mars.”
He laughed, then handed her his phone. “Still. Just in case I feel like sending musical inspiration.”
She entered her number, her fingers brushing his briefly, a small spark of awareness passing between them.
As he stepped back into the crowd, Claire watched him go, the night humming with possibility.
For the first time since she began mapping out her future, she allowed herself to consider that maybe life wasn’t only about structure and certainty.
Maybe it was also about rhythm.
About unexpected harmonies.
About moments that couldn’t be planned — only felt.
And as she looked up at the stars scattered across the velvet sky, Claire felt something shift quietly inside her.
The future she was building suddenly felt wider.
Not just a design.
But a song.
Author Bio:
LongTemple is a contemporary Black romance author and visual storyteller whose work is rooted in emotional truth, spiritual reflection, and the resilience of love shaped by lived experience. Her stories explore pain, struggle, faith, healing, and the quiet triumph of choosing connection again—especially later in life, when love carries history and meaning.
Born and raised on New York City’s vibrant Lower East Side, LongTemple writes with a voice shaped by culture, memory, and survival. Her storytelling carries a musical cadence—sometimes aching, sometimes soaring—always grounded in honesty and soul. She centers grown, layered characters who confront grief, betrayal, forgiveness, and hope, and who discover that love, when chosen with intention, can still be transformative.
She is the creator of the Platinum Chocolate Romance Universe, a body of interconnected contemporary romance and women’s fiction that celebrates mature Black love and second chances. Each novel is paired with a companion adult-themed line art coloring book, offering readers a reflective, immersive experience that extends the story beyond the page and invites creative engagement alongside emotional connection.
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.
