It can be fun to flirt. And when you know it can’t go anywhere, it can be a little more fun. You can just let loose because there’s no chance you can blow it. That’s how TEMPTING THE PRINCE starts. Two people who absolutely know they can’t ever be together, sharing a fun night. #spoiler – they do get together! #spoiler – happy ending guaranteed! So here’s a peek at an average American pushing the envelope with her *actual* Prince Charming… *** Mallory couldn’t tell if the bar was nice because everything in Moncriano’s capital was both ancient and charming–or because her bodyguard had chosen very, very carefully where to bring the princess’s sister to get wasted. Because that was, indeed, her entire plan for the night. Drink. Eat a pretzel the size of her head. Maybe flirt with the semi-hot guy who’d been eying her from the corner. Except that flirting would require conversation. That conversation. Because every conversation she’d had with a stranger since returning to the country followed the same lines: How are you? You’re so brave. What’s the princess really like? If she wasn’t fine, she wouldn’t be out at a bar, would she? As for…

9: A Murderer’s Hands Kihrin stopped. “Do you think there’s a kettle around here? I’d love some tea.” Thurvishar stared at him.  Kihrin grinned. It’s a bad habit I picked up from Janel. Anyway, it’s not like you don’t know what happened. You were there too.” Thurvishar rolled his eyes and then pointed to the end of the cluttered room. “I believe I saw a kettle on that other workbench–honestly, I have no idea how anything was ever accomplished in this mess. You’d think a wizard of his caliber would at least be organized. I suppose he must have just known where everything was.” Thurvishar started to continue, but then set his papers aside. “We should skip the rest of Serena, Talea, and Xivan’s story for now. “ Kihrin frowned. “You’re not going to finish?” “Oh, I’ll pick up again later, but in between this and when we become involved, it’s more of the same, really.” Thurvishar grimaced at his notes although the paper itself was somehow culpable. “They traveled through at least ten more city-states. Always the same story–arriving in town one step behind Suless. I believe it’s a tale that would probably grow stale with repetition.” “Oh, sure….

Daniel sighed, the sound lost to the thud of their skate blades on the rubber mats lining the tunnel. He hadn’t anticipated the chilly reception when he arrived in the Thunder’s dressing room that first day of train­ing camp–and now he finally knew why his breath had practically been fogging whenever he was in the presence of his new teammates. Apparently there was some resent­ment about his win. Probably some assumptions about his reasons for being there or how he would behave. Never mind that Daniel had worked his ass off for more than a decade before he could add Stanley Cup champ to his resume. He’d fought his way there–tooth, nail, broken bones, and bloody lips. It hadn’t come easy, and he didn’t take it for granted. Nor did he think he was hot shit now that he had a championship win under his belt. He was just trying to play hockey, same as he’d done all his life. Daniel poured onto the ice with the rest of his team­mates and sucked in a breath, the cold, crisp scent as familiar and comforting as the sound of his blades cut­ting into the ice and the roar of the crowd….

By the next morning, the snow has stopped, but many of the back streets are still sporting a sheen of black ice. Tommy’s picked up a cold somewhere, and so I wrap my head in a scarf to protect myself from the wind whipping between the buildings, and head out to Claire’s Patisserie for croissants. After taking a single step into the street, I dash back inside to grab my camera. The grey overcast hemming us in for weeks has blown away overnight, and the sun is rising through low fog like a ripe red dragon’s egg, way down the end of our street. I’ve been taking pictures as long as I can remember. My dad was a photographer before I was born, and there were always cameras around the house when I was small. He shot for AP overseas–Falkland Islands during the conflict, and Ireland too–but after I came along, he mostly freelanced. And when I made it into NYU, I majored in photography. I’ve always planned to take it further, but–well, you know. Life gets in the way. With this news about the bookshop, the chance of returning to film school is looking increasingly unlikely. These days I…

chapter two HOT LUMBERJERK Blaire “My name is Blaire, not Alice, thank you very much.” I want to smack myself for that terrible, unimpressive comeback. I blame my inability to come up with something–anything–better on thinking we were in the middle of an earthquake, the loss of one of my precious unicorn martini glasses that I honestly cannot afford to replace, and this ax-wielding hipster. Oh, did I forget to mention that beyond the fact that he’s filthy and dressed like some kind of GQ lumber-jack, he’s also incredibly good-looking? “Well, Blaire, you’re standing in the middle of a construction zone, and I’m pretty sure those shoes don’t meet the required code, so you can march them right back out the door.” He uses the axe handle to point to my heels–which are adorable and surprisingly comfortable. I take a step back. “Pointing is rude.” Where the hell has my quick wit disappeared to? “So is trespassing.” “I knocked, more than once, but with all the racket going on in here it’s not really a surprise that no one heard me, is it?” I’m irritated and gathering steam, thanks to my embarrassment, residual fear, and frustration over the problems this…

Excerpted from the book MY LIES, YOUR LIES by Susan Lewis. Copyright © 2020 by Susan Lewis. From William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Reprinted by permission. *** Joely was on a train heading away from London still not sure what to expect when she arrived at her final destination. She was trying not to think about it too much, although creating scenarios for what lay in store was infinitely better–and probably healthier–than tormenting herself with what she’d left behind. Better still, at least for the moment, might be to create a little fantasy around the attractive bloke sitting opposite her. It was a good try, but it took next to no time for her mind to circle back to Callum, her husband, who’d left her two weeks ago. He’d actually left her. She’d never imagined he would, had always believed in their marriage so completely that she still couldn’t make herself accept it had happened. She wasn’t sure he’d accepted it either. “So what’s this assignment you won’t tell anyone about?” he’d asked when he’d called by the house only yesterday, using his key to come in as if he still lived there. His deep brown eyes had…

Hi! I am so thrilled to be here on one of my favorite blogs with an exclusive excerpt of HIGH HEAT, my new release. This is book two in my Hotshots series about smoke jumper wildfire fighters in Central Oregon, but each book is designed to stand alone as well.  HIGH HEAT centers around an injured smoke jumper, Garrick, trying to recover from serious injuries and his sexy new neighbor, Rain who barrels his way into Garrick’s life, complete with a lost dog who needs them both.  In the exclusive scene that I’ve brought Fresh Fiction today, Garrick has agreed to help Rain get in shape to meet the wildfire fighter fitness standards. They’re out for exercise in the park and just starting to dance around a mutual attraction. . . Read on to see the sparks starting to fly! *** Needing to change the subject, Garrick pointed at the paved trail that wove through the park. “If we follow this, we’ll hit various obstacles, including pull-up bars. I plan to make you do most of them.” “At your command.” Rain’s dark eyes sparkled, almost like he knew precisely the effect his flirty tone would have on Garrick. “Sit-ups.” Stopping…

Enemies become lovers in The Goodbye Guy, book 3 in my Men of Lakeside series. In this excerpt, Rachel has come home with Beck from a fancy party… Mocha was waiting for them at the door. The shameless mutt wriggled up to Rachel first, as if the dog knew she was a pushover. And apparently, she was, because even though she and Beck had been kissing and touching in the car, building their anticipation even further, Rachel was on her knees–for the dog–as soon as they got home. “She’s been lonely, poor thing,” Rachel said. That snug blue dress rode up her thighs as she nuzzled the dog. “Don’t feel bad, sweetie. You wouldn’t have had any fun at that party.” Beck gave up the hope they’d be heading straight to the bedroom and dropped to the floor beside them. All the better to be near those bare legs. “Except for the dancing.” She leaned against him even as she let the dog curl up in her lap. “Oh yeah, the dancing part was the best.” He reached out to rub Mocha’s wild hair, then let his hand rest on Rachel’s thigh. “I can’t imagine what kind of video your…

6 DONNA Marleen extends a round porcelain bowl with pills. I scoop them up, put them in my mouth, and take a sip of water from a glass on the nightstand. She leaves the room and I lean back and listen to the sounds of the house. Marleen karate-chops the throw pillows on the couch (I don’t care for that look but I won’t correct her) and wipes the kitchen counters (there is the tearing of a disinfectant wipe from the container, followed by the sound of the garbage can lid clinking shut shortly thereafter). Her heels clack, make their way down the hallway and into the powder room, followed by a silence during which she undoubtedly straightens towels on the shelf. The house phone rings. Marleen’s explanation about someone punching in the wrong numbers at the gate sounds contrived. I want to get up, hurry from my bedroom down the hallway and into the kitchen, want to get to the bottom of this–want to grab the receiver and demand to know who is on the other end of the line–but the phone stops ringing. I don’t want to be in this state of mistrust but– That book on the…

one Roxy Brayburn and a broken heart 1974 Dear Mama, Losing Lucas has embittered me to the world, to every couple on the beach, Elle, Santa Maria, and even you. You’ve had twenty years with Daddy. Why didn’t I get that with mine? I expected to live with Lucas and Mayhem and maybe a whole bunch of babies for the rest of my life. But then Lucas jumped off the cliffs like he was late for an appointment. You know what that means. I can’t look at Elle after what she did, and if I have to fight this battle, cleanse my Brayburn blood, I have to do it away from here, where I can’t hear the water whisper, where I can’t feel its pull on my heart, never mind my body. I been thinking, Mama, Santa Maria is just like us, like Brayburns. It seems like a good, safe place for some free love and a party on the beach, but once you peel back the first layer, you realize it’s a lie, and what’s underneath is rotting and dirty. Spoiled, like meat that’s been sitting out too long. I know what you’re thinking: I’ll be a Brayburn wherever…