THE RULES OF DATING A YOUNGER MAN, a new contemporary romance from New York Times Bestselling Authors, Vi Keeland & Penelope Ward, releases on September 15th!

Scroll down for an excerpt!

Rule number one for dating an older woman who insists you could never be together?

Don’t fall in love.

I was the last of my group of friends to find “the one.”

The guys would always tease me that I needed to hurry up and settle down.

But I was in no rush.

Until I met someone worth rushing for.

Alex was one of the weekend volunteers at Ryan’s House—a charity I founded to build housing near hospitals.

Little did I know she was the same person I’d been arguing with over email before the project started. At the time, I’d thought Alex was a dude.

In reality? She was a smoking hot blonde who captivated me from the moment we met in person.

Our chemistry was off the charts, and I fell hard pretty fast.

Unfortunately, Alex insisted I was too young for her. I hated that she felt that way. Because age was just a number.

Not only that, her words didn’t match the way she looked at me—like she was very interested.

I lived for the weekends we’d spend out of town volunteering.  Alex and I side-by-side hammering during the day, while sharing intimate dinners together at the hotel at night.

Eventually, the walls she’d put up to protect her heart began to crumble.

Until fate threw us a doozy that I wasn’t sure we could come back from.

If I’d thought our age gap was the biggest hurdle, I didn’t know anything yet.

Rule number one for dating an older woman who insists you could never be together?

Don’t fall in love.

PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY OR READ FOR FREE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED!

Amazon US  |  Amazon AU  |  Amazon CA  |  Amazon UK  |  Paperback  |  Audio

ADD TO GOODREADS  |  ADD TO BOOKBUB

EXCERPT:

I looked down at my cell and shook my head.

“Why the long face?” My buddy Colby walked back into the kitchen and tossed me the keys to his car. “I didn’t think single guys with no kids and fat bank accounts had anything to stress over.”

I caught the keys. “Bite me.”

He chuckled. “No, really. Is everything alright? You were grumbling at your phone the other day when I walked into the elevator, too.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Except one of the volunteers on the renovations team for the new Ryan’s House project is driving me nuts. You know how we pick two team leaders to help coordinate things on each job?”

Colby nodded. “One for the mechanics—electrical, plumbing, heating, and stuff, and one for interior design—paint, flooring, fixtures, and appliances, right?”

“Exactly. This dude Alex is the design team leader. He’s driving me nuts with his suggestions. He questions every fixture, appliance, and molding I’ve picked out. Today he wants to change the living room paint color by a shade—a freaking shade. I couldn’t even see the difference between the two paint samples online. Now he just asked if we could meet for dinner tonight to go over a few last-minute changes he’d like to make.” I shook my head. “No way am I doing that. It’s a good thing you clowns are coming up this weekend to help out, because I have a feeling this guy’s going to test my limits.”

Colby made a pouty face. “Awww… Brayden has trouble working with others.”

I shook my head, but smiled. “I don’t know why I tell you shit.”

“Probably because no one else wants to listen to you.”

“Ouch.”

He laughed. “What time you getting on the road today?”

“Probably about two. I need to stop by the office and pick up a project I’ve been working on for a kid. He’s in the hospital upstate again, so I’m going to drop by to visit over the weekend and surprise him with it.”

“What did you make this time?”

I grinned. “You know I don’t give hints about my masterpieces before the unveiling. I told his family I’d come by Sunday. If you knuckleheads are still around, you should join me.”

“Sounds good.”

I held up Colby’s car keys. “Thanks again for the car swap. Mine is too small to fit baseboard heating covers.”

“Anytime you want to swap my ten-year-old, beat-up SUV for your hot little six-month-old Porsche, I’m in.” He grinned. “I’m going to have a good-ass time driving that thing upstate Saturday morning.”

I opened the door. “Don’t get arrested for going a hundred and twenty.”

***

Later that night, I checked into the hotel up in Seneca Falls and decided to go down to the lobby bar for a drink. It was empty, except for a woman sitting alone. She had a drink in front of her, and a full glass of wine sat at the empty stool beside her, so I assumed she must be here with someone. I took a seat along the short side of the bar to give them some privacy.

But damn… Sitting here gave me an even better view of the woman, and she was a total knockout—sandy blond hair, big blue eyes, and high cheekbones that led down to a full set of lips. She might’ve been a few years older than me, but that didn’t stop a rush of adrenaline from giving my body a good jolt.

The bartender walked over and dropped a napkin in front of me. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a whiskey sour. Any chance you have Russell’s Reserve Ten-Year bourbon to make it with?”

The bartender’s brows pulled together, and he thumbed to the woman sitting alone. “You with her?”

“No, why?”

He shrugged. “She just ordered the same drink. That brand of bourbon and all.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

I glanced over again and lowered my voice. “She alone?”

“Is now. Some guy sidled up to her when she came in a few minutes ago, but he left pretty quickly with his tail between his legs.”

Alrighty then. “Any chance you guys serve food here?”

“Sure do. I’ll grab you a menu.”

Even though I now knew she was alone, I wasn’t too enthused about striking up a conversation with the pretty blonde. Not after she’d just chased another guy away. But when the bartender brought my drink and she looked over, I raised my glass.

“Apparently we ordered the same drink.”

“Whiskey sour?” she asked.

“With Russell’s Reserve Ten-Year.”

She smiled and held up her glass. “To good taste.”

I tipped my glass to her. A minute later, my phone buzzed with a call from Colby. I swiped to answer. “I hope you’re not calling to tell me you dented my car already.”

“No, but how the hell do you put the top back up?”

“You know the button you pushed to drop it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the same button to put it back up. You just need to hold it for ten seconds.”

“Crap. Okay, thanks.”

“Where the hell are you that you have the top down?”

“I got a sitter and took my wife for a drive. The wind in our hair is making us feel young and free, instead of like the parents of two little kids we are, usually in bed by eight.”

I chuckled. “Well, enjoy it.”

“I plan to. Why do you think I need the top up? I just pulled into a quiet rest stop, and I need a little privacy, if you know what I mean.”

“Ugh. Don’t tell me that, dude. I don’t want your bare ass all over my seat.”

“No promises, my friend.”

I shook my head. “God, I hate you. Goodbye.”

After I hung up, the knockout looked over. “I’m not usually rude, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” she began. “I once bought a new car. When I picked it up, I found an empty condom wrapper on the floor of the front seat. I made them give me another car.”

I smiled. “My buddy and I swapped vehicles for the weekend. I’m considering keeping his crappy ten-year-old hunk of junk and letting him keep my nice, new one after his ass cheeks have rubbed all over the leather.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Unless…”

“What?”

“What if your friend has a penchant for car sex? I’m afraid that would mean he’s already done it in the one you’re driving.”

I pointed. “Good observation. I’ll just get mine detailed.”

The beautiful woman smiled again, and I found myself wondering if she had lipstick on or if her lips were naturally that color. They were just a little more pink than the fleshy red I’d expect for someone with her skin tone. Or maybe she wore some sort of gloss, because they were also perfectly shiny.

After a much-too-long analysis, I realized I probably looked like a creeper staring at her mouth and diverted my eyes to the menu the bartender had dropped off. Though I still couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances in between reading about the appetizers. There was something compelling about her. It might’ve been that her face wasn’t painted to fake-perfection like most women these days.

A few minutes later, I looked over and noticed her glass was empty. So I took a chance. “Can I buy us another round?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Ummm…”

I held my hands up. “It’s just a drink. I won’t invite myself over to the empty seat next to you.”

She smiled. “Sure. Why not? Thank you.”

I held two fingers up to the bartender. “Another round for both of us. On me, please. And when you get a chance, I’ll take an order of the Mexican street corn chicken tacos.”

“Oh, gosh,” the woman said. “I love Mexican street corn. That sounds delicious.”

“Oh, so now you want me to buy you drinks and dinner?”

She waved her hands. “Oh, no, I wasn’t suggesting—”

I smiled. “I’m teasing.” I looked back at the bartender. “Make that two orders of the tacos, please.”

“You got it.”

“Well, now that you’re buying me food and a drink, I feel obligated to offer you the vacant seat next to me.”

“Oh, no. There’s no obligation, really.”

She grinned. “I’m teasing, too.”

I laughed, but I also got up and walked over to her. “Is this seat taken?”

“It’s not. But I can’t promise no bare butts have been on it.”

“I’ll risk it.” I sat and held out my hand. “Brayden.”

“Alexandria. Nice to meet you, Brayden.”

“You, too. Are you a guest at this hotel, or just came in to flirt with a guy and get him to buy you dinner and drinks?”

She smiled. I liked that she could take a joke. “I’m staying here. You?”

“Same. What are you in town for?”

“I’m volunteering for a charity that renovates houses near hospitals for patients who can’t afford a hotel while they’re getting cancer treatment.”

My jaw fell open. “Are you serious? You’re volunteering for Ryan’s House?”

“You know it?”

“I’m the founder. But once a year, I also volunteer to swing a hammer. This is my once.”

“Really?”

“Let me get this straight. We drink the same drink, both love street-corn tacos, both dislike ass imprints on our car seats, and we’re volunteering for the same project? Do I just propose now? Or should I wait and see if you love candy corn as much as I do?”

Her eyes sparkled. “I love candy corn.”

I covered my heart with my hand. “Alexandria Foster. It even has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The bartender interrupted our love fest to deliver our drinks. When he walked away, we were both still smiling.

“So you really founded Ryan’s House?” Alexandria asked. “How did that come about?”

“Almost a decade ago, I lost one of my best friends to leukemia. Ryan and I were both engineering students in college when he started treatments. He spent a lot of time in the hospital and became interested in designing prosthetics with more flexibility. We started working on ideas together to pass the time during my visits. After he passed away, I continued with some of the concepts we’d come up with. Long story short, a couple of years later, I got a patent on a new type of prosthetic joint simulator. It’s licensed to most major artificial-limb manufacturers now. I tried to split the profit with Ryan’s parents, but they wouldn’t take anything. So his half goes toward buying the houses we renovate each year for Ryan’s House.”

“That’s incredible.”

I sipped my drink. “How about you? Are you just volunteering, or is there a story behind why you picked Ryan’s House to donate your time?”

Alexandria smiled sadly. “I lost my husband a few years ago to leukemia.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. He was older than me, but still way too young.”

“Is this your first time volunteering, or did you work on another of the houses?”

“It’s my first time. To be honest, I’m kind of nervous about it.”

“What’s there to be nervous about?” I asked.

“I don’t have too much construction experience.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll make sure you’re on the good team then.”

“I didn’t realize there was a good team and a bad team.”

“Usually there isn’t. But we split the volunteers into two crews, each with a team leader who coordinates who does what and makes sure we have the supplies and stuff. One of the team leaders is a real pain in the ass, a know it all. He wants to change everything that’s been planned before we even start. He’s definitely going to micromanage his crew.”

“Oh, wow. Okay. Thank you.”

“We usually just count off the volunteers who show up to give each team an equal number. But I’ll make sure you’re in Jason’s group and not Alex’s.”

“Oh. So Alex is the pain in the ass?”

“Giant pain in the ass.”

The bartender walked over with our food. It looked as delicious as it had sounded on the menu. Conversation slowed as we dug in, but I enjoyed the quiet with the company sitting next to me. After we finished eating, I turned to ask Alexandria something, but I lost track of what I was saying three words in. Her eyes were that mesmerizing.
“What?” She wiped at her cheek. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, no. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you are absolutely beautiful. I’m relieved I got to sit next to you because I couldn’t stop myself from staring when I was sitting over there.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Thank you.”

Both our drinks were almost empty again, so I motioned to the glasses. “You want another one?

“I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Disappointment flooded through me. I hoped I hadn’t upset her with my compliment.

Alexandria motioned to the bartender. “Could I close out my tab, please?”

“Sure thing.”

He walked away and came back a minute later. I was still trying to decide if I should apologize. Maybe I’d been too forward?

She signed the check and hopped down from the stool.

“Listen, Alexandria. I didn’t mean to upset you by saying how beautiful I think you are. I apologize if that came off creepy.”

“No, that wasn’t what insulted me.”

“That wasn’t? So something else I said insulted you?”

She looked at me a moment. “Such a shame. Because I find you attractive, too.”

“I’m confused. Why is that a shame?”

She shook her head. “Goodnight, Brayden. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and you don’t have to worry about which team I’m on. I’m happy on Alexandria’s team.”

“Alexandria’s team?”

“Oh. Did I say Alexandria’s team? I meant Alex’s team. I go by both names. Alexandria is my given name, after my grandmother. Alex for short.”

Copyright © 2024 by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward

RENT FREE, an all-new suspenseful romance from Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author, Lani Lynn Vale, is available now!

Scroll down for an excerpt!

Fuck me for choosing the wrong sister…

Fuck me for choosing the wrong sister.

Atlas Carter was a protector. He was a police officer, had spent years in the Air Force, spent his entire teen years as a volunteer firefighter.

Being a protector was in his blood.

It was his dream.

So when a woman was in a dangerous situation, it was his every instinct to protect her. To shield her. To watch over her.

Only, that woman had played him.

She’d set him up.

She’d made sure that he only saw her.

Then, when the real woman who should hold his heart, the sister, comes into his life, he doesn’t see past the hatred of her to know that she’s only trying to protect him in return.

He spends the next year terrorizing the woman who’s supposed to be his. When the dust finally settles, and he can see clearly once again, she’s no longer there waiting for him.

ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!

Amazon US  |  Amazon AU  |  Amazon CA  |  Amazon UK  |  Apple Books  |  Kobo  |  Nook

Add to Goodreads  |  Find on BookBub

EXCERPT:

At first, I wasn’t too sure what I was looking at when the woman ran toward me.

And the only reason I could tell it was a woman was because of the female curves, and the dress she was wearing.

Her face was battered to the point of appearing like raw meat, and there was so much blood on her blue sundress that I wondered if there was any left in her body.

She ran straight for me, her eyes only open to slits due to swelling.

I got out of my cruiser and reached for the mic at my shoulder. “Victim located.”

I ran toward her in time to catch her right as she fell.

“I’ve got you,” I told her breathlessly.

“He had me,” she said. “That serial killer. He had me.”

Those were the first and last words she said about the serial killer in my presence.

After staying with her for hours at the hospital and having to nearly force her to let me go, I was well and truly worn out. Mentally and physically.

***

I was exhausted by the time I got home that night.

The woman I’d been seeing—who my family would give me so much shit for if they knew—had called me four times over the last hour to find out where I was.

I’d sent multiple texts to her saying that I was caught up with work stuff, but that had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

When I pulled up to my place, I found her standing outside the door with her arms crossed and an angry look plastered across her usually beautiful face.

I didn’t have the energy to deal with her bullshit today.

I truly didn’t.

Emory Cline was a beautiful woman.

Tall, model like, and wispy thin, she had this ethereal appearance that usually hit all my buttons.

Today, though?

I wanted to see the inside of my door as it closed on her face.

“Emory,” I said tiredly. “I’m sorry I missed you today.”

She snorted. “I highly doubt that since you didn’t rush home after you got done at the hospital.”

I felt my eyelid twitch. “I had to go to work and finish the report on the victim.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you didn’t go and talk to multiple female officers, laugh with them, while you did that?”

Was she stalking me or something?

“I try to be nice to everyone I see,” I said stiffly.

And I did.

I wasn’t a mean person like my twin brother, Auden.

See, I had faults.

I had OCD—obsessive compulsive disorder.

In my younger years, I’d had a really hard time making friends because of my OCD tendencies.

As a result, I tried to be nice to everyone, even when they weren’t nice to me.

That niceness had extended to my adult life, and at this point, it was just the way I was.

In addition to the OCD, I also had a sleeping disorder where I liked to sleepwalk to fuck knew where.

That was why I always tried so hard with girlfriends—like Emory—that I should’ve let go a long time ago. I liked to ignore red flags.

That was just the man I was—the man I would always be.

“You are too nice,” she snapped. “That woman didn’t need you there the entire day.”

No, Sage Solomon probably didn’t.

But she’d had no family come to see her, and I’d felt guilty leaving her there all by herself.

After learning that Sage not only had parents who were alive, but three siblings who also refused to come check on her after the hell she’d suffered, I’d promised her I would stay.

I’d also spent a lot of that time googling her family and wondering what kind of monsters they were that they didn’t care what Sage had gone through.

“I’m me, Emory,” I told her. “I’m not going to change.”

She narrowed her eyes, her gaze searching, and nodded her head. “You’re right. You’re not.”

Then she walked out of my life and didn’t look back.

About Lani Lynn Vale:

Lani Lynn Vale is an American author of humorous romantic suspense novels. Born in the Great State of Texas, she has lived the majority of her adult life in East Texas where most of her novels are based. She’s married to her high school sweetheart whom her readers refer to as “LLV’s Bearded Half.” She published her first novel, Boomtown, in the summer of 2013 after the birth of her third child. She’s gone on to publish over 100 novels, with most of them going on to become USA Today Bestsellers.

Connect with Lani:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Reader Group  |  Instagram  |  TikTok  |  Twitter  |  Amazon  |  BookBub  |  Goodreads

Sign up for Lani’s newsletter!

EMBRACING THE CHANGE, a slow-burn, forced proximity, second-chance, friends-to-lovers billionaire romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Kristen Ashley, is out now!

Scroll down for an excerpt!

He can’t go there.

She can’t go on without it…

That Kiss…

Gorgeous New York socialite, Nora Ellington has been waiting a very long time for her happily ever after.

So long, she’s given up on it and has decided, even though she’s the plus-one friend without benefits to a man she’s head over heels in love with, an HEA will forever be out of her reach.

Handsome billionaire Jamie Oakley thought he’d had two happily ever afters in his life. However, neither lasted long, and both ended in tragedy. He’s not about to try it again or put his children through the trauma Jamie has learned from experience undoubtedly will come their way.

And he’s made this decision even if the woman who’s become his constant companion is a woman he loves straight to his soul….and wants with everything that is him.

But then, one night, Jamie loses control and kisses Nora.

He can’t go there.

She can’t go on without it.

They’ll never be the same.

Or will they?

ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!

Amazon US  |  Amazon Worldwide  |  Amazon Paperback  |  Apple Books  |  Google Play  |  Kobo  |  Nook  |  B&N Paperback  |  Audiobook  |  Audible

Add to Goodreads

“A tender yet intense journey from friends-to-lovers…thick with steamy tension and heart-tugging emotion…” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads

Check out Danielle’s 5 SMOOCHES review!

EXCERPT:

His fork clattered on his plate, the sudden sound surprising me so much, I gave a slight jump as Jamie turned fully to me.

“Right, we’re here.”

Oh dear.

I wasn’t sure what “here” meant.

But I was sure I didn’t want to be there.

He carried on. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I’ll give you more time, but I do want to talk about it. However, for now I’ll just say, I can have you as I’ll allow myself to have you.”

As he’ll allow himself to have me?

What on earth did that mean?

“And in so doing, I have you,” Jamie continued. “You mean something to me. You’re mine. You’re a part of my life. You’re a member of my family. And I think you know I take care of those I love, Nora. That being the man I am, I cannot countenance this jackass annoying you or taking your time or infiltrating your life in any way that does not involve the children you share. Am I being clear?”

You’re mine.

I take care of those I love.

You’re…

Mine.

Those…

I…

Love.

“Nora,” he called. “Am I being clear?”

About Kristen Ashley:

Kristen Ashley is the New York Times bestselling author of over eighty romance novels. She’s a hybrid author, publishing titles both independently and traditionally, her books have been translated in fourteen languages and she’s sold millions of books.

Kristen, born in Gary and raised in Brownsburg, Indiana and was a fourth-generation graduate of Purdue University. Since, she has lived in Denver, the West Country of England, and she now resides in Phoenix. She worked as a charity executive for eighteen years prior to beginning her independent publishing career. She now writes full-time.

Although romance is her genre, the prevailing themes running through all of Kristen’s novels are friendship, family and a strong sisterhood. To this end, and as a way to thank her readers for their support, Kristen has created the Rock Chick Nation, a series of programs that are designed to give back to her readers and promote a strong female community. You can learn more about Kristen and the Rock Chick Nation on her website.

Connect with Kristen:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram  |  Pinterest  |  Twitter  |  Amazon  |  Bookbub  |  Goodreads

Sign up for Kristen’s newsletter!

THE ROCKER’S MUSE, a brand new slow-burn, forbidden, age-gap rock star romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Penelope Ward, is out now!

Scroll down for an excerpt!

Tristan and I had a connection. But I had a secret…

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new, STANDALONE novel…

No one but me knew why I was actually in the California desert that day.

Nestled deep within the desolate, rocky area was a recording studio.

When a door suddenly opened, a man mistook me for someone he was supposed to be interviewing for a job.

The next thing I knew, I was whisked inside.

The position? An assistant on the upcoming tour for one of America’s most famous rock bands.

Pretty exciting opportunity for a twenty-two-year-old, just out of college.

Not surprisingly, I bombed the interview.

When I ended up mistakenly walking into the men’s room on my way out, I struck up a conversation with a stranger—not realizing it was the lead singer, Tristan Daltrey.

He seemed to like the fact that I had no idea who he was, that I saw him as a normal person.

That night, I got a call offering me the job.

So began my complicated story with Tristan.

Millions of women loved him.

Yet for some reason, after the shows, he only wanted to hang out with me.

Late-night talks. Casual dinners in his hotel room.

I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the band’s frontman.

Despite our fifteen-year age difference, Tristan and I had a connection.

But I had a secret.

One that would eventually lead to my leaving the tour.

And one that would lead Tristan and the band straight to the small town where I came from.

ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!

Amazon US  |  Amazon AU  |  Amazon CA  |  Amazon UK  |  Apple Books  |  B&N  |  Google Play  |  Kobo  |  Special Edition Paperback  |  Audio

Add to Goodreads

“…an addictive forbidden romance all wrapped up in a rock’n’roll package.” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads

Check out Danielle’s 5 SMOOCHES review!

EXCERPT:

I stayed close to the door as Tristan sifted through some stuff. There were a bunch of papers with handwritten words scattered on his bed.

A leather jacket lay over a chair. He’d lit a candle on the bedside table—smelled like vanilla. This scene was a little different than I might’ve imagined in here. Much more Zen.

He zipped open a bag. “I guess you didn’t realize wrangling drunk assholes was part of your job?”

“Thankfully, it’s not, usually.”

“I kind of feel guilty now,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

“What do you mean? The condoms weren’t for you…”

He froze for a moment. “Condoms?”

“That’s why I was over here. To drop off condoms for Atticus.”

“What a jackass.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what I meant was, you were nervous about taking this job to begin with. I told you nothing bad happens on tour. And then you ran into that situation tonight. I was the one who told Doug to hire you.”

I nodded as understanding dawned. “Thank you for putting in a good word, by the way. I wasn’t sure you remembered me. We haven’t spoken since the tour started.”

“Don’t take it personally. Tour’s just been crazy. I’ve been meaning to say hello. Just under different circumstances.”

I nodded. “Why did you tell them to hire me? You don’t even know me.”

“I liked that you didn’t know who I was. That was the first time in a long time someone’s looked me in the eyes and seen a normal person, not some musician they’ve made a million incorrect assumptions about.”

“I saw more than your eyes in that bathroom, unfortunately.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I’m just kidding. I was the idiot who walked into the men’s room. Served me right.” My eyes traced the ink at the base of his neck, just peeking out from his white T-shirt. “Anyway, I probably would’ve recognized you from the Internet if you hadn’t had that long beard.”

“That’s exactly why I had the beard. I grow one every recording season when we don’t have to perform. It helps me not be recognized in public. I hated having to cut it before the tour.”

“Makes sense.”

Tristan opened another drawer and finally pulled out the ibuprofen.

“Ah! Got it.” He handed me two pills and a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” I cracked open the bottle and took a sip before downing the meds. “I’m surprised you’re alone tonight.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve heard you guys have a different girl every night on hotel stops.”

“Wow.” He scratched his chin. “A different girl every night. I think my dick would fall off. Where are you getting your information?”

“I don’t disclose my sources.”

He shrugged. “Some nights I just want to be alone. I do have to write music at some point, rest my voice, get sleep.”

I nodded. Now the papers scattered over his bed made sense. “You write a lot on the road?”

“I write whenever inspiration strikes, but being on the road is actually when I’m most creative. Late at night on the bus, when everything goes quiet? That’s what I like best about touring. That’s my favorite time to write.”

“That’s my favorite time of the day lately, too. There’s something so relaxing about staring out at the moving darkness.”

He cocked his head. “What do you do?”

“On the bus? Read or listen to podcasts…”

“Sorry, I meant in general. What do you do when you’re not held captive by a tour for four months?”

“Not much of anything, actually. I’m trying to find my place in the world at the moment. I just graduated from Nevada State University.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-two.” I’d googled his age but asked anyway. “How old are you?”

“Almost thirty-eight. Old as fuck, right?”

“You don’t look thirty-eight. I would’ve guessed, like, thirty.”

“What did you study at Nevada State? Blowing smoke up people’s asses?” He winked.

I laughed. “It’s true. You look younger. But I majored in communications.”

“Nice.”

I shrugged. “Well, it’s been challenging finding a job with such a broad degree.”

“You’re in a good position,” he assured me. “I envy you.”

“Envy me?” I drew my brows in. “Why?”

“You’re a blank slate with your whole life ahead of you. Some days I wish I could go back and start over.”

“Why would you want to do that? You’re a huge star. If you did even one thing differently, you might not be where you are today.”

“Where I am today isn’t all it’s chalked up to be.” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m very grateful for it all. But there’s always a price to pay for fame. Like giving up your privacy.”

“Yeah. I’m seeing that. You guys can’t go anywhere without being mobbed.”

“You clearly don’t give a shit who I am, though. I need that sometimes.”

He smiled. “Your innocence is refreshing, Emily.”

Innocence? “I may be young. But I’m not innocent.” I scoffed.

“I don’t believe you. I can see it in your eyes. You’re innocent as hell.”

“You’re not a good reader of people, then.”

Tristan crossed his arms. “Tell me the worst thing you’ve done, and I’ll believe you.”

No one had ever asked me such a direct question before. And something about looking into this man’s eyes made me want to answer honestly.

So I did.

Copyright © 2024 by Penelope Ward

About Penelope Ward:

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.

With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

Find Penelope here:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Reader Group  | Twitter  |  Instagram  |  TikTok  |  Goodreads  |  BookBub  |  Amazon

Stay up-to-date with Penelope by signing up for her mailing list!

THE ROMANCE LINE, a sexy new workplace, enemies-to-lovers, grumpy/sunshine, forbidden hockey romance from #1 New York Times Bestselling Author, Lauren Blakely, releases October 2nd! Check out this cover!

Title:  THE ROMANCE LINE
Series:  LOVE AND HOCKEY (#2)
Author:  LAUREN BLAKELY
Genre:  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Cover Design:  QAMBER DESIGN MEDIA
Release Date:  OCTOBER 2, 2024

The first rule of handling PR for a hockey team? Never hook up with a player.

That shouldn’t be a problem since the last man on earth I want to give an image makeover to is our goalie. He’s infuriatingly hot, famously grumpy and lives to spar with me after every game.

But shining up his rough edges is my path to landing the promotion I desperately need, so I grit my teeth and do my job. No matter how hard he makes it (especially with that sexy smirk and cool blue eyes.) As we travel from pose-with-a-pet photo opps to cuddle-a-kitten fundraisers, we bicker like it’s foreplay.

Turns out it is.

Because as I get to know the man behind the broody iceman exterior, it’s me that melts – right into his arms as he devastates me with a kiss that turns into the hottest, most forbidden night of my life.

Only once turns into every night as Max shows me how much he wants to take care of me. His possessive touch makes me feel adored for the first time in my life.

But the man is entirely off limits and I can’t risk my job for more of those soul-deep kisses.

Because the only thing worse than hooking up with a player is falling head over heels for him.

PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY NOW!

Add to Goodreads

About Lauren Blakely:

A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s cute but spicy. Lauren likes dogs, cake, and show tunes and is the vegetarian at your dinner party.

Connect with Lauren:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Instagram  |  TikTok  |  Twitter  |  Amazon  |  BookBub  |  Goodreads

Sign up for her newsletter to stay up to date with Lauren!

THE ROCKER’S MUSE, a brand new slow-burn, forbidden, age-gap rock star romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Penelope Ward, is out now!

Tristan and I had a connection. But I had a secret…

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new, STANDALONE novel…

No one but me knew why I was actually in the California desert that day.

Nestled deep within the desolate, rocky area was a recording studio.

When a door suddenly opened, a man mistook me for someone he was supposed to be interviewing for a job.

The next thing I knew, I was whisked inside.

The position? An assistant on the upcoming tour for one of America’s most famous rock bands.

Pretty exciting opportunity for a twenty-two-year-old, just out of college.

Not surprisingly, I bombed the interview.

When I ended up mistakenly walking into the men’s room on my way out, I struck up a conversation with a stranger—not realizing it was the lead singer, Tristan Daltrey.

He seemed to like the fact that I had no idea who he was, that I saw him as a normal person.

That night, I got a call offering me the job.

So began my complicated story with Tristan.

Millions of women loved him.

Yet for some reason, after the shows, he only wanted to hang out with me.

Late-night talks. Casual dinners in his hotel room.

I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the band’s frontman.

Despite our fifteen-year age difference, Tristan and I had a connection.

But I had a secret.

One that would eventually lead to my leaving the tour.

And one that would lead Tristan and the band straight to the small town where I came from.

ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!

Amazon US  |  Amazon AU  |  Amazon CA  |  Amazon UK  |  Apple Books  |  B&N  |  Google Play  |  Kobo  |  Special Edition Paperback 

Add to Goodreads

About Penelope Ward:

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.

With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

Find Penelope here:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Reader Group  | Twitter  |  Instagram  |  TikTok  |  Goodreads  |  BookBub  |  Amazon

Stay up-to-date with Penelope by signing up for her mailing list!

THE ROCKER’S MUSE, a brand new slow-burn, forbidden, age gap rocker romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Penelope Ward, releases August 26th!

Scroll down for an excerpt!

Tristan and I had a connection. But I had a secret…

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward comes a new, STANDALONE novel…

No one but me knew why I was actually in the California desert that day.

Nestled deep within the desolate, rocky area was a recording studio.

When a door suddenly opened, a man mistook me for someone he was supposed to be interviewing for a job.

The next thing I knew, I was whisked inside.

The position? An assistant on the upcoming tour for one of America’s most famous rock bands.

Pretty exciting opportunity for a twenty-two-year-old, just out of college.

Not surprisingly, I bombed the interview.

When I ended up mistakenly walking into the men’s room on my way out, I struck up a conversation with a stranger—not realizing it was the lead singer, Tristan Daltrey.

He seemed to like the fact that I had no idea who he was, that I saw him as a normal person.

That night, I got a call offering me the job.

So began my complicated story with Tristan.

Millions of women loved him.

Yet for some reason, after the shows, he only wanted to hang out with me.

Late-night talks. Casual dinners in his hotel room.

I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the band’s frontman.

Despite our fifteen-year age difference, Tristan and I had a connection.

But I had a secret.

One that would eventually lead to my leaving the tour.

And one that would lead Tristan and the band straight to the small town where I came from.

PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!

Apple Books  |  B&N  |  Google Play  |  Kobo  |  Special Edition Paperback  |  Sign up for an email live release alert

Add to Goodreads

EXCERPT:

I stayed close to the door as Tristan sifted through some stuff. There were a bunch of papers with handwritten words scattered on his bed.

A leather jacket lay over a chair. He’d lit a candle on the bedside table—smelled like vanilla. This scene was a little different than I might’ve imagined in here. Much more Zen.

He zipped open a bag. “I guess you didn’t realize wrangling drunk assholes was part of your job?”

“Thankfully, it’s not, usually.”

“I kind of feel guilty now,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

“What do you mean? The condoms weren’t for you…”

He froze for a moment. “Condoms?”

“That’s why I was over here. To drop off condoms for Atticus.”

“What a jackass.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what I meant was, you were nervous about taking this job to begin with. I told you nothing bad happens on tour. And then you ran into that situation tonight. I was the one who told Doug to hire you.”

I nodded as understanding dawned. “Thank you for putting in a good word, by the way. I wasn’t sure you remembered me. We haven’t spoken since the tour started.”

“Don’t take it personally. Tour’s just been crazy. I’ve been meaning to say hello. Just under different circumstances.”

I nodded. “Why did you tell them to hire me? You don’t even know me.”

“I liked that you didn’t know who I was. That was the first time in a long time someone’s looked me in the eyes and seen a normal person, not some musician they’ve made a million incorrect assumptions about.”

“I saw more than your eyes in that bathroom, unfortunately.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I’m just kidding. I was the idiot who walked into the men’s room. Served me right.” My eyes traced the ink at the base of his neck, just peeking out from his white T-shirt. “Anyway, I probably would’ve recognized you from the Internet if you hadn’t had that long beard.”

“That’s exactly why I had the beard. I grow one every recording season when we don’t have to perform. It helps me not be recognized in public. I hated having to cut it before the tour.”

“Makes sense.”

Tristan opened another drawer and finally pulled out the ibuprofen.

“Ah! Got it.” He handed me two pills and a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” I cracked open the bottle and took a sip before downing the meds. “I’m surprised you’re alone tonight.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve heard you guys have a different girl every night on hotel stops.”

“Wow.” He scratched his chin. “A different girl every night. I think my dick would fall off. Where are you getting your information?”

“I don’t disclose my sources.”

He shrugged. “Some nights I just want to be alone. I do have to write music at some point, rest my voice, get sleep.”

I nodded. Now the papers scattered over his bed made sense. “You write a lot on the road?”

“I write whenever inspiration strikes, but being on the road is actually when I’m most creative. Late at night on the bus, when everything goes quiet? That’s what I like best about touring. That’s my favorite time to write.”

“That’s my favorite time of the day lately, too. There’s something so relaxing about staring out at the moving darkness.”

He cocked his head. “What do you do?”

“On the bus? Read or listen to podcasts…”

“Sorry, I meant in general. What do you do when you’re not held captive by a tour for four months?”

“Not much of anything, actually. I’m trying to find my place in the world at the moment. I just graduated from Nevada State University.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-two.” I’d googled his age but asked anyway. “How old are you?”

“Almost thirty-eight. Old as fuck, right?”

“You don’t look thirty-eight. I would’ve guessed, like, thirty.”

“What did you study at Nevada State? Blowing smoke up people’s asses?” He winked.

I laughed. “It’s true. You look younger. But I majored in communications.”

“Nice.”

I shrugged. “Well, it’s been challenging finding a job with such a broad degree.”

“You’re in a good position,” he assured me. “I envy you.”

“Envy me?” I drew my brows in. “Why?”

“You’re a blank slate with your whole life ahead of you. Some days I wish I could go back and start over.”

“Why would you want to do that? You’re a huge star. If you did even one thing differently, you might not be where you are today.”

“Where I am today isn’t all it’s chalked up to be.” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m very grateful for it all. But there’s always a price to pay for fame. Like giving up your privacy.”

“Yeah. I’m seeing that. You guys can’t go anywhere without being mobbed.”

“You clearly don’t give a shit who I am, though. I need that sometimes.”

He smiled. “Your innocence is refreshing, Emily.”

Innocence? “I may be young. But I’m not innocent.” I scoffed.

“I don’t believe you. I can see it in your eyes. You’re innocent as hell.”

“You’re not a good reader of people, then.”

Tristan crossed his arms. “Tell me the worst thing you’ve done, and I’ll believe you.”

No one had ever asked me such a direct question before. And something about looking into this man’s eyes made me want to answer honestly.

So I did.

Copyright © 2024 by Penelope Ward

About Penelope Ward:

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.

With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty novels. Her books have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.

Find Penelope here:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Reader Group  | Twitter  |  Instagram  |  TikTok  |  Goodreads  |  BookBub  |  Amazon

Stay up-to-date with Penelope by signing up for her mailing list!