She rested her hand on her chin, studying him a moment. “Why do you think you burn through girlfriends quicker than most guys change socks?” “Geez, are you my shrink?” It wasn’t a bad question, though. Kayla shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “No, but one of my sisters just did this communication workshop she was telling me about. It’s all about self-reflection and owning your mistakes and shortcomings in relationships. Not that she needs it, since she’s ridiculously happily married, but she loved it.” There was that flash in her eyes again—a sign there was more going on inside that beautiful brain of hers. “Anyway,” she said. “She just sent me this book she got at the workshop. All this talk about self-reflection and shortcomings made me wonder if you have a theory about why you’ve been through so many breakups.” Tony scratched his thumbnail over a mark in the bar and tried to come up with an answer. One that didn’t make him sound like a total asshole, which he probably was. “I don’t know. Lousy schedule, maybe? Smokejumpers are gone so much that it’s tough to have a relationship.” That was dumb. Grady made it work with Willa. Kayla knew…

Hi, everyone! I’m thrilled to share an excerpt from THE SECRET INGREDIENT, my queer rivals-to-lovers foodie romance. When classically trained chef Adah Campbell and intuitive baker Beth Summers meet, their attraction. . . and rivalry. . . is immediate. The two women couldn’t be more different, but their intense passion for food and undeniable chemistry draws them together. Below is a sneak-peak of Adah and Beth’s meet-cute (in this case more of a meet tense…that’s a thing, right?) THE SECRET INGREDIENT is available now. Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy! Excerpt: The woman stepped forward without missing a beat, extending her hand. I closed the gap between us, shivering as her long fingers brushed my palm. Her skin was warm and a little work-rough. A heavy quiet settled over me as we shook hands. I had the strange thought that I could have held her hand all day. Up close I realized her narrow, wary eyes were a soft shade of green. They widened for a fraction of a second before she stepped back, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I’m Adah Campbell, the new executive chef at Bella Vista. This is Sean Jacobs, our GM, and…

The screaming started at three in the morning. Tabitha had never heard a human being howl in that way before. It was like the screeching of an animal caught in a trap and it was answered by shouts, distant, echoing. Tabitha couldn’t tell whether they were cries of comfort or anger or mockery. The screams subsided into sobs but even these were amplified by the metal, the doors, the stairs and floors. Tabitha felt they were echoing inside her head. She sensed a movement from the bunk above her. The other woman must be awake. “Someone’s in trouble.” There was silence. Tabitha wondered if the woman was ignoring her or really was asleep, but then a voice came out of the darkness. She was speaking slowly, as if she were talking to herself. Her voice was low and gravelly, a smoker’s morning voice. “Everyone’s in trouble,” she said. “That’s why they’re here. That’s why they’re crying, when they think about their children or what they did. Or what they did to their children. When there’s real trouble, you don’t hear any screams. You just hear the screws running along the corridors. When it’s really bad you hear a helicopter landing…

We’re pleased to share an exclusive excerpt from the upcoming novel THE COOKBOOK CLUB by Beth Harbison, in stores on October 20th, along with a delicious recipe and note from the book and author. You can find out more about Beth Harbison and links to pre-order her book below. Many thanks to William Morrow for this fun post!  *** “Oh, Margo.” Something about the pity in Margo’s mother’s voice made Margo feel even sorrier for herself even though she was a grown woman who’d gotten dumped, not a child.  “Do you need me to come home?” It was like when Margo was little and would hurt herself.  Somehow she could bear up until she got to her mother’s loving arms and then she’d lose it. That she called Maryland home, even though they’d moved south ten years ago just made it even more poignant. “I’ll be okay. I just need to get through this.” “You need your family.” She went to the pantry and pulled out a twenty-eight-ounce can of Wegmans San Marzano tomatoes. “Honestly, I’m not up for it. I don’t want to waste a visit on shock and misery, I’d rather you come when we can both enjoy…

First, I didn’t get a contract. Now I’m stuck driving home in a monsoon. Peering through the water streaming down the wind­shield, Eden Voss kept an eye out for the turn going into her southwest Atlanta neighborhood. Typical of any Tuesday night, city traffic had been akin to driv­ing in a demolition derby, and the rain only exacerbated that. The farther she got away from the city proper, the more she relaxed. She’d just spent three hours sitting in a smoky hookah lounge in Midtown with a producer and his newest act, discussing whether her songwrit­ing might be a good fit for them. If the young artist had been as decisive as he’d been flirtatious, the meeting might have actually led to something concrete. She wondered what she would have been like if her dreams of singing stardom had come true. Those ambi­tions were long ago laid to rest. However, she knew that if she had made it, she wouldn’t have been so disrespect­ful as to ogle another industry professional, especially during what was supposed to be a business meeting. Eden pushed those thoughts away, concentrating in­stead on making it home intact. Even with the wipers going full blast, visibility…

I pick up all the pillows, toss them back on the bed, straighten out my clothes, and climb under the sheet. The heat inside me has officially cooled. My eyelids grow heavy. When I blink, I don’t see Callum anymore. Every muscle in my body is relaxed, free of tension at the thought. Soon I’m asleep. It’s deep and hard and everything good. Until I start to dream. *** Dream Callum is a million times nicer than real-life Callum. Dream Callum spoons me from behind, my absolute favorite. How did he know? He presses his clothes-free body against mine, a perfect shell for my hot and bothered self. None of this is real. That doesn’t make it any less divine. He wraps his arms around me. They’re so thick that when pressed against me, they cover most of my naked chest. Leaning back, I groan. “You like that?” he asks. I nod a yes, then moan again. Those thick lips press against the back of my neck. “What do you want, Nikki?” When his voice is this low, this gentle, it makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. The hottest sound in the world is Callum’s English…

On a balmy afternoon in early September, Roman Marek stood on the sidewalk at the corner of Car­mel Street and Pacific Lane in Valentine Bay, Or­egon. His hands in his pockets, he scowled at the excess of arches and scrollwork adorning the fa­cade of the building directly in front of him. The Valentine Bay Theatre was nothing short of a nightmare–at least, to Roman it was. He’d made his fortune in Las Vegas real estate and he had a definite preference for efficient, light-filled, modern spaces. The last thing he would ever in­vest in was a run-down, century-old theater in the Venetian Gothic style. But invest in it he had–in fact, he’d bought the damn thing outright. His mother had insisted. And Roman Marek would do just about anything for his mother. He loved her and he owed her. As for her ridiculous fondness for the old the­ater, when Roman was a kid, his mom used to bring him here to watch second-run movies and at­tend community events. She looked back on those days through rose-colored glasses. And that was why, a few weeks ago, when Sasha learned that the elderly owner had died and the heirs wanted to get…

When Derrick picked Genie up at TyTyler’s house, she appeared to be shy. He figured she was embarrassed to be sneaking around when she was a grown woman, but she was living in her father’s house, and he seemed to be less than enthusiastic about the budding relationship. He hoped to be able to show Genie that he was proud to be seen with her and wanted to deepen their ties. “You’re sure you want to keep Angelique tonight?” she asked Leah. “Of course. Go on now. You deserve a night out.” Leah made shooing motions with her hands. When Derrick handed her up into his truck, he assured her that he would bring her back to TyTyler and Leah’s house whenever she wanted. Genie enjoyed the beautiful countryside as they drove toward Langston. The moon was just rising and it cast a glow on the snowy scenery. There must have been a million stars strewn across the night sky, and all of them were twinkling for her pleasure. “Beautiful night,” she said. He glanced at here and reached for her hand, placing it on his thigh. “Not nearly as beautiful as you are tonight.” A flush of warmth filled…

Chapter One A scorching heat wave blanketed the West Coast, bringing with it record temperatures, rolling blackouts, and a general feeling of malaise that infected everyone. A fast-moving Mexican monsoon, however, was now gaining strength in the Gulf of Mexico, steaming up the California coast accompanied by gale force winds and heavy rain. It would most likely reach the township of Freedom by late afternoon. I sat staring out the office window, elated that the storm would finally end the stultifying heat, but also apprehensive of the possible havoc it might wreak. I was locked in a debate with myself as to whether I would order a takeout meatball-and-onion pizza from Larry’s or the kung pao chicken from Tsai’s when I noticed a late-model green Toyota Camry pull up in front of the County Courthouse. I watched as a middle-aged woman emerged, looked around, then headed inside. After a few moments, I heard Sheriff ’s Deputy Johnny Kennerly talking with the woman. Then he appeared in my doorway and stood there, fanning himself with a legal-size yellow pad. “There’s a Rosalita Gonzalez here to see you.” I swiveled my chair around to face him. “What about?” “You mean what does…

I open the door. The guy is tall—probably six foot one or two—and fit, like a runner. He’s clean-shaven and good-looking. “Hello,” I say. “Hi. I’m Zack Bradley.” His eyes are like little pieces of sky, and a dimple winks in his jaw as he smiles. The smile transforms him from attractive to devastating. “Are you Brooke Adams?” Chill bumps chase up my arms, and it’s not cold outside. He looks familiar, but his name doesn’t ring any bells. “Uh, no. She’s not here right now.” For some reason, I can’t bring myself to say, She’s dead. His smile fades into disappointment. “Can you tell me when she’ll be back?” “Not, um, really. Is there something I can help you with?” I realize I sound like a clerk at a shoe store. I smile and stretch out my hand. “I’m her best friend, Quinn Langston.” “Nice to meet you.” He takes my hand, and my palm is encased in warmth. More goose bumps instantly prickle up my neck. It’s definitely a sign of something, but I don’t know what. “Her phone doesn’t seem to be working,” he says. Miss Margaret has Brooke’s cell phone. I’m not sure if she’s already…