Title: Not Today, Cupid Author: Jennifer Bonds Series: The Harts #2 Genre: New Adult Contemporary Romance
As compiled by Scarlett Evans—executive assistant, grad student, and reluctant admirer of CEO Nick Hart’s snacktastic abs
Well, my fellow corporate drones, it’s another less-than-exciting investor meeting with the executives (Loud Talker, Human Buzzword, Master Delegator). And at the front, CEO Nick Hart, the world’s coldest—and ok, unbelievably sexy—tech badass. The man hasn’t smiled in the history of ever, he runs a tight ship filled with miserable employees, and gosh, he just really does not love feedback. Especially from me.
Development updates, acquisition delays, and…holy hell, why does he keep looking at me? I don’t work for him. I work for his brother. Which is good, because otherwise I’d spend every meeting secretly wondering what actually lies beneath that cool, aloof demeanor. Like, is he an uptight geek in the boardroom…and a sexy-assed freak in the bedroom?
He’d better not find out I’m the one stuffing the company suggestion box. What’s so wrong with a Valentine’s Day Social, anyway? But the fact that my notes are less professional and more entertainment is one seriously dangerous game. Because if he ever found out what I really thought of him, there’d be all kinds of sweet, delicious hell to pay…
“I’ve gotta admit, I’m dying to know what you just signed up for.”
“That makes two of us.” I shove my burger aside. There’s no way I can eat it now. Not with the prospect of some half-baked project hanging over my head like a guillotine.
Miles smirks. “Drumroll, please.”
I give him the finger, but Beck indulges him, tapping the edge of the table.
“Anonymous says we need a—oh, this is too perfect.” Miles howls as Beck and I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. “A—” He chokes on his laughter and has to take a drink of water before continuing. “A Valentine’s social!”
He’s messing with me.
He has to be. Who would put that in the suggestion box? This is a place of business, not a fucking romper room.
Even if sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.
“Let me see.” I reach for the laptop, shooting Beck a dark look. They’re both laughing like hyenas now. “Have you two been stuffing the suggestion box?”
“Don’t look at me,” Beck says, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for that kind of petty prank.” He chuckles. “It is pretty ironic, though. You know, since the only thing you hate more than Valentine’s Day is the suggestion box.”
Miles is laughing so hard now it’s a wonder he doesn’t bust a blood vessel.
Asshole.
Could this be his doing, some ass-backward attempt to make me appear likable?
It doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it.
“Pick something else. February fourteenth is the Epos launch. The timing is terrible and four weeks isn’t nearly enough time to put something like this together.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Miles wags a finger at me. “You already agreed. Besides, that was the last one.”
Fucking hell. Leave it to Miles to pick the one week the damn thing isn’t overflowing.
“No way. It can’t be done.”
“Not with that attitude,” Miles says through peals of laughter. When he finally gets control of himself, he adds, “Relax. If anyone can handle it, it’s you.”
It’s true. I’ve never walked away from a challenge in my life, but what the hell do I know about planning a social? I’m the last person in the world who should plan this event.
On the other hand…
It could be the perfect opportunity to prove I’m not the controlling bastard Scarlett thinks I am.
Arrogant. Uptight. Cold.
Her words chip away at my brain with maddening persistence. I shouldn’t care what she thinks. I know it on a cerebral level, but after last year’s bad press, her ludicrous, ill-informed assessment is infuriating.
Salt on an open fucking wound.
“So?” Beck spears a piece of lettuce with his plastic fork. “Are you going to do it?”
My gaze slides from Miles to Beck and back again. It won’t be easy—I’m already spread thin with the Epos launch—but I’m no quitter. With a little time and a plan of attack, I can do this. And who better to help plan a Valentine’s social than Miles’s snarky, highly organized, whip-smart assistant?
“I’ll do it on one condition.” A slow grin curves my lips. “I want Scarlett to help.”
Jennifer Bonds is the USA Today bestselling author of sizzling contemporary romance with sassy heroines, sexy alphas, and a whole lot of mischief. She’s a sucker for enemies-to-lovers stories, laugh-out-loud banter, and over-the-top grand gestures. Jennifer lives in Pennsylvania, where her overactive imagination and weakness for reality TV keep life interesting. She’s lucky enough to live with her own real-life hero, two adorable (and sometimes crazy) children, and one rambunctious K9. Loves Buffy, Mexican food, a solid Netflix binge, the Winchester brothers, cupcakes, and all things zombie. Sings off-key.
Title: Over the Fence Author: Debbie Schrack Genre: Young Adule Suspense
Kidnapped from her front yard in Oklahoma eleven years ago, seventeen-year old Eve Anderson lives a wretched existence in Bell Meade, Minnesota with her abductor, “Papa,” his common-law wife “Mama,” and Honey, Eve’s four-year-old daughter with Papa. Papa keeps the family hidden behind locked doors, boarded-up windows, and an eight-foot tall fence that surrounds their backyard.
Emma Love, also seventeen, recently moved to Bell Meade with her Aunt Vi to take care of her big sister Noelle, who’s in a vegetative state after being savagely beaten by her boyfriend, Jack Armstrong. He is charged with grievous bodily harm, but Emma worries that the popularity and influence of the Armstrong family will keep Noelle from getting the justice she deserves.
When Eve and Emma start talking through the fence that adjoins their backyards, they soon form a connection. Emma finds it comforting to talk to Eve about Noelle, and Eve sees parallels between Noelle’s situation and her own. She acts as Emma’s confidant, but does not reveal her own secrets, for fear of Papa’s wrath if he finds out.
But when Papa decides to marry Eve and move the family to an isolated farmhouse, Eve must risk everything to save herself and Honey. Will she have the courage to escape from Papa before it’s too late? And will Emma have the strength to help her new friend, even as she struggles to save her own sister?
Noelle is on the fifth floor, in the Traumatic Brain Injury Unit. Before we enter her room, I close my eyes and say a little prayer. Please, God, bring Noelle back to me today…But it takes less than a second for the hope in my heart to sputter out like the air in a deflating balloon. Because today is no different than yesterday or the day before. Noelle’s lying on her back in bed, propped up by pillows, in exactly the same position she was when we left last night. Her eyes are open and fixed on the ceiling.
Aunt Vi goes to her first, murmuring in her ear and fussing with the blankets on the bed. She picks up Noelle’s chart. Her eyes skim over the top page, like maybe she’s an MD and not an archeologist.
“I’ll just find a vase for these flowers,” she says, setting down the chart and brushing past me, tears in her eyes.
I take a deep breath and approach the bed.
“Hi, Sis,” I say. I do my best to make my voice cheery and bright, but the bile in my throat adds a sharpness to it. I take Noelle’s hands and squeeze them, wishing with all my heart that she would squeeze back. But her hands, the ones that used to fly across piano keys like they were possessed by Mozart’s spirit, are lifeless.
I sit down in a chair close to the bed and start strumming my guitar. If anything can wake Noelle, it’s music. I watch her face as I play, searching for awakening in her eyes, a hint of something besides blankness. She’s still so beautiful. The bruises have faded away. On the outside, she’s herself again, just less alive, like someone put her in a copy machine. The blonde highlights in her hair are almost grown out now. Her sun-freckled skin has gone pale. She has the same brown eyes with the same thick lashes. I’ve always envied those lashes. Now I just wish those eyes would look at me again, that she would smile or laugh…
“How can I ever say goodbye to you…”
Aunt Vi comes back in the room, followed by Dr. Massey. I stop playing.
“They did another MRI this morning,” she says.
My eyes raise to Dr. Massey’s. He’s an older man with sharp but kind eyes, cropped white hair and a beard that goes halfway down his chest. He reminds me of a skinny Santa Claus, except he brings devastating news instead of presents. He shakes his head. Disappointment punches me in the gut, but I ignore it. Noelle needs me to be strong for her. For us.
I stand up and face Dr. Massey, hands on hips. “Okay,” I say. “What now?”
Debbie Schrack is the author of SAVING SOPHIE, a young adult contemporary romance, which won the 2022 Paris Book Award for young adult fiction. She is also the winner of the SCBWI Haunted States of America contest for the state of Virginia. A former teacher, she lives in Fairfax, Virginia, a suburb of Washington, D.C. When she’s not conjuring dark and twisty plots or hanging out with her family, you can find her riding her horse or poring over travel brochures, ready to check off another box on her bucket list of travel adventures. You can follow Debbie on Facebook or Twitter @debbie_schrack or contact her through her website debbieschrackbooks.com.
From New York Time’s bestselling author R.L. Mathewson comes the prequel to the disturbingly funny romantic comedy series, Neighbor from Hell.
She couldn’t do this anymore.
After watching her best friend and the man that she’d been in love with her entire life propose to another woman, Morgan decided that it was time to finally move on. She made plans, plans that Eric didn’t know about and she planned to keep it that way, but unfortunately for her, one bet destroyed everything, leaving her with no choice but to be there for her best friend one last time.
He was done.
After catching his fiancée cheating on him, Eric Bradford was done wasting his time on women that he had absolutely no hope of falling in love with. He just needed time, a chance to get away, and he just needed…
Her.
Determined to figure out how he kept screwing up his life, Eric takes his best friend on the honeymoon that he’d spent a fortune on and asked her for one more favor, one that would change everything, and leave him with no choice but to do whatever it takes to stop the one woman that meant everything to him from finally walking away.
“I’m curious about something,” Eric said as he joined her.
“Why I haven’t killed you yet?” Morgan asked, blinking up at the large man that was going out of his way to piss her off for some reason.
Shrugging it off, Eric said, “I just assumed that you haven’t figured out what to do with my body.”
“Oh, no, I have a plan,” Morgan assured him as she reached up and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Uncle Jared helped me come up with it when I was six after I told him that you stole the cupcake that I was planning on sharing with him.”
“Why am I not surprised that you betrayed me?” Eric asked with a long-suffering sigh and a sad shake of his head as they stepped in line.
“Because I learned from the best?” Morgan asked with a pointed look up at Eric as she shifted her bag over her shoulder, only to murmur, “Thank you,” when Eric reached over and took the bag from her and put it over his shoulder before he grabbed his bags again.
“There is that,” Eric murmured, not really sounding all that concerned to discover that she’d been planning his demise since they were six.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re curious about?” Morgan asked, pushing her glasses back up her nose as they moved up in line.
“I’ve been wondering why you were doing shots with the asshole last night,” Eric said, taking her by surprise, mostly because she’d thought, hoped really, that he forgot about that.
“I was enjoying the festivities?”
“At a party that you weren’t even planning on attending?” Eric drawled as he shot her a look that told her that he had absolutely no plans of letting this one go, which admittedly was a bit of a problem for her.
Clearing her throat, Morgan said, “I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”
“Why you’re refusing to tell me why you let my cousin talk you into doing shots,” Eric murmured, gesturing for her to start talking.
Swallowing hard, Morgan went for, “I don’t remember?” since admitting the real reason that she’d allowed Trevor to talk her into doing shots would only bite her in the ass. Granted, when she decided to go to the dinner rehearsal, she hadn’t planned on drinking, but when Trevor handed her a shot of whatever it was that was in that small glass, she decided that getting drunk sounded like a wonderful idea.
Mostly because she didn’t think that she would be able to go through with telling Eric that she was in love with him without a little liquid courage. She should have just left, but…
New York Times Bestselling author, R.L. Mathewson was born in Massachusetts. She’s known for her humor, quick wit and ability to write relatable characters. She currently has several paranormal and contemporary romance series published including the Neighbor from Hell series.
Growing up, R.L. Mathewson was a painfully shy bookworm. After high school she attended college, worked as a bellhop, fast food cook, and a museum worker until she decided to take an EMT course. Working as an EMT helped her get over her shyness as well as left her with some fond memories and some rather disturbing ones that from time to time show up in one of her books.
Today, R.L. Mathewson is the single mother of two children that keep her on her toes. She has a bit of a romance novel addiction as well as a major hot chocolate addiction and on a perfect day, she combines the two.
If you’d like more information about this series or any other series by R.L. Mathewson, please visit www.Rlmathewson.com
