Excerpt from SOLAR ECLIPSE OF THE HEART by Kate Robb:
4
Years ago, I wrote a paper on the human brain’s instinctive patterns when faced with an emergency situation. Despite evolutionary advancements, when faced with danger, the hu-man brain recesses to its primitive, mammalian roots and de-faults to one of two behaviors. It either shifts into fight-mode and finds a way to battle the perceived threat, or it flees.
I have often wondered which of my instincts would kick in if faced with a bona fide threat.
Turns out, the answer is flight—it’s not even a contest.
I don’t even look for a weapon as I sprint at full speed toward my bedroom and slam the door behind me.
The moment I’m inside, I drop my towel and reach for the lock, only realizing as my hand closes over the cool metal handle that there is no lock—there has never been one.
Barricade.
I look at my IKEA desk, wondering how much of a fight the particleboard would put up against a man his size.
He was sitting, but he looked big. He felt big.
My defense plan is interrupted by a soft knock on the door and the sound of a male voice.
“Annalise?” it says. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I did call out when I let myself in.”
I reach down for the towel at my feet, pulling it around my naked body as if the flimsy cotton will offer some sort of protection.
“I’m calling the police,” I lie, my eyes darting around the room, looking for my phone, which I realize in a moment of sickening clarity is still in the purse I left hanging by my front door.
“They hang out at the doughnut shop down the street. They will be here in minutes,” I hedge, hoping I sound convincing.
“Don’t do that.” His voice has lost the calm of a moment ago. “I think there’s been some mistake? I’m Mackenzie Smith. I’m supposed to be moving in here today. Your neigh-bor gave me a key.”
Harmony? No. Why would she . . .
“You are not Mackenzie Smith,” I tell him, getting back to the facts. “Mackenzie Smith is a woman. She is from West Lake and loves cats and plays the tuba.”
There’s a beat of silence. It’s followed by a very soft ahhhhh.
“I am Mackenzie Smith,” he says. “I swear it. I’m more of a dog guy, but cats are fine, and I think I know what might have happened here. Can I ask . . . did you google me? Or her, I guess? Is that how you know about the tuba?”
My cheeks heat. “I wasn’t going to just let some random stranger move in here without knowing a few things about them first, and I don’t need to explain anything to you because you are not Mackenzie Smith, and I need you to leave my apartment immediately.”
There is a long moment of complete silence. I crane my neck, listening for footsteps or handle jiggling—any sort of clue about what is happening on the other side of the door. Finally, there’s a quiet groan to the floorboards as if he’s shifting his weight, then a pop, like a knee or hip being cracked, and then the sound of something being slid along the floor.
I look down and see a small plastic driver’s license being pushed through the space under my door.
I pick it up.
My eyes immediately shoot to the name, which does, in fact, say Mackenzie Smith. They move to the picture. It’s a black-and-white of the same man who was sitting at The Bagel Stop and then on my couch.
Now that my adrenaline has returned to adequate levels, I can study his face: the sharp, square jaw, the slightly curled dark blond hair, and the eyes that, even with the grayscale tone of the photo, I can tell are a beautiful light blue.
“I think I might know what happened,” he says again, startling me so much that I drop the ID. “It’s not the first time we’ve been mixed up,” he continues. “She’s a few years younger than me. Our town is pretty small, so we solved the issue by going by Mac and Kenzie. I can assure you I’m the Mackenzie Smith you’ve been emailing for the last month. I answered your ad online. I moved here because I got a job, playing in a band.” I try to think back to our emails. Without my phone, I can only go by memory. We had several back and forth. They were mostly transactional. There were a few get-to-know-you questions, but I don’t know if I ever specifically asked Mackenzie their gender. I guess from the start, I just pictured a lanky brunette in my head.
“Wait.” I suddenly recall the evidence I’ve been looking for. “I asked you if you played your tuba regularly.” I recall the email clearly. “And you wrote back, just a normal amount. Why would you say that if you don’t play the tuba?”
There’s a notable pause before he answers. “Um . . . I thought that was a metaphor.”
“A metaphor for what?”
It clicks the moment the words leave my lips. “Oh, god.”
My back presses against the door, and I slowly melt to the floor in a mortified heap.
His laughter becomes audible through the wood. “It’s not funny,” I say to the door.
“It’s pretty funny,” he answers. His laughter begins to fade. “Listen,” he finally says. “I am sorry if I didn’t clarify. I didn’t realize . . . I can try to find another place if you’re not comfortable living with a man, but if there’s any way you’d let me stay for a bit—even the night—I’d really appreciate it. I don’t know too many people in the city. I definitely don’t know anyone well enough to crash on a couch, but I’m sure I can work something out.”
My brain works through the ramifications of what he’s proposing.
I don’t really want to look for a new roommate, and I’m only here for three and a half more months. Larry and I had no issues living together and he was a man, although he was family.
“You’re not like a sex pervert or anything, right?”
His laugh returns. “I promise you, I’m not, but if you’re worried, I can give you a few names of some female friends. I could probably even get the other Mackenzie’s phone number for you. She’d vouch that I’m a good guy.”
“Okay.” I pull myself back to a standing position. “Give me a few minutes.”
Excerpt from SOLAR ECLIPSE OF THE HEART by Kate Robb. Copyright © 2026 by Kate Robb.
SOLAR ECLIPSE OF THE HEART by Kate Robb
Dial Delights
A Novel
When a PhD candidate inherits more grief than she can quantify, an infuriatingly attractive musician—and his mysterious leather jacket—unravel everything she thought she knew about love, loss, and the laws of reality.
Annalise Harris believes in facts and figures—her shield against a world that has thrown her too many curveballs. Raised by her uncle after her mother’s untimely death, she’s always relied on logic to avoid the unexpected. So when her uncle passes away, Annalise is left reeling. Grief doesn’t follow rules. There’s no rational explanation as to why life keeps dealing her such a brutal hand.
Luckily, she has an escape plan: a PhD program abroad, where she can immerse herself in scientific reasoning and leave everything else behind. She’s almost packed and she’s found Mackenzis Smith—the perfect roommate to watch over the house while she’s gone. But unluckily, Mackenzie is not the female roommate she was expecting, but a leather-jacket-wearing, wannabe rockstar, extremely attractive man. At least they’ll only be sharing the space for a few months. Then she’ll be gone.
Except Mackenzie is more than he appears—and so is his jacket. When Annalise slips it on one afternoon, she’s struck by inexplicable visions that defy every law of logic she holds dear. One moment she’s standing in her apartment; the next, she’s somewhere completely different…and nobody can see her. Is she hallucinating? Has the stress of all the impending changes broken her brain? As Annalise scrambles to explain the impossible, she and Mackenzie grow closer, bonding over Hallmark Christmas movies and their neighbor’s inexplicably strange baked goods.
There’s no rational reason an old leather jacket should unlock visions—or for Annalise to fall for a musician with an uncertain future just as she’s preparing to move across an ocean. But for the first time since losing her uncle, she feels something she thought was gone for good: happiness.
The question is, can she trust it? And can she follow her heart—even if it means letting go of sense?
Romance Paranormal | Romance Comedy [ Dial Press Trade Paperback, On Sale: October 6, 2026, Trade Paperback / e-Book / audiobook, ISBN: 9780593734148 / eISBN: 9780593734155 ]
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About Kate Robb
Kate Robb dated a lot of duds in her twenties (amongst a few gems) all providing excellent fodder to write weird and wild romantic comedies. She lives just outside of Toronto, Canada where she spends her free time pretending she’s not a hockey mom while whispering “hustle” under her breath from the bleachers, a Pinot Grigio concealed in her YETI mug. She hates owls, the word “whilst” and wearing shorts and aspires to one day be able to wear four-inch heels again.
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