EVER WISHED A BOOK BOYFRIEND COULD BE REAL?

THEN THIS IS THE STORY FOR YOU

Dear Book Lover,

today I wanted to share a preview of my new novel that comes out next week, July 5 —perfect if you need to pack new reads for the long weekend (if you live in the US and celebrate Independence Day.) The excerpt I picked is one of my favorite moments for Leighton and Killian when the enemies to lovers tension is still sizzling!

Scroll past the sneak peek for all other bookish deals and info … happy reading 🙂

It Started with a Book – Sneak Peek

It’s daylight in Lakeville Hills and I’m standing behind the counter of a bakery, hands sunk deep into a ball of dough. I stare down at myself clad in the most ridiculous baking attire I’ve ever seen. Shorty-shorts again, of course, a red-and-white checkered shirt tied in a knot over my stomach that leaves my belly button exposed, and high-heeled clogs.

Who bakes in high heels?

Dreamland me, it seems.

None of my curls are falling over my eyes. I catch my reflection in the display glass to confirm that my hair is being held back by a handkerchief hair tie secured in a pretty bow just above my forehead.

I stare around at the shop, presumably the one Killian rented to me after stealing ownership of the lot.

The walls are covered in strips of brown paint and pastel pink, like the kind on the inside of chocolate boxes, while the floor is made of white tiles in a basket weave pattern with black accents. Wooden tables and chairs are arranged in a variety of shapes and sizes around an extra-long counter where two glass cases display an array of pastries, cakes, and cupcakes.

The place smells like a gingerbread house and coffee and it’s adorable—but dishearteningly empty of customers.

The bell over the door chimes.

My head snaps up just as Killian St. Clair swaggers in. He turns the sign on the windowpane from “Open” to “Closed” and locks the door behind him.

Uh-oh.

Today, he’s wearing a black suit. Black shirt, black leather shoes. No tie. He looks like the dark angel of smut incarnated.

“What are you doing here? We’re closed.”

He smiles, wickedly. “Closed to the general public, surely not to the owner.”

I narrow my eyes. “You might have stolen the property, but you don’t own my business. So, again, to what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I came to collect rent.”

“All right, Sheriff of Nottingham, I’ve deposited your tithe check this morning.” My brain snaps in place providing this random bit of info. “So you can go count your doubloons or whatever it is you do when you’re not busy trying to ruin my day.”

Killian chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to the dough, which is no longer in a nice, round ball, but it’s being splattered in a death grip. “Is there something else you wanted, or are you done messing with my peace and quiet?”

He leans against the register, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes lower to my hands. “Aren’t you mishandling that poor dough?”

I drop the sticky ruin onto the counter and glare at him. “I was doing just fine before you walked into my shop.”

“You mean my shop.” He flashes me annoyingly white teeth.

I roll my eyes and grab a pinch of flour to dust my hands off. “Fine, your shop, my business. Now that we’ve established rent has been paid, is there anything else you need?”

He shakes his head. “Nope, just came to check on things. Make sure everything is running smoothly.” He takes a seat on one of the stools that line the other side of the counter. “What are you making?”

“Testing a new recipe for cinnamon buns.”

“Oh, my favorite.”

I flash him a viciously sweet smile. “Pity you won’t taste any.”

He smirks. “Of course I will. You need an expert’s opinion if you’re trying a new recipe.”

I sigh. “Whatever I say, you’re not going to go away, are you?”

“Nope.” He opens one of my display cases and pops a mini donut into his mouth.

“That’s two dollars fifty.”

Killian shrugs. “Add it to my tab.”

“You don’t have a tab here.”

“I do now.”

Aaargh. This man is so insufferable, so frustrating. On impulse, I grab another pinch of flour and throw it at him.

The shocked expression on his face and consequent sneeze are priceless.

While he’s busy cleaning himself with a paper napkin, I transfer the reformed dough ball into a well-oiled bowl, as per the recipe instructions, and cover it with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel.

When I turn around to place the bowl into a turned-off oven in the kitchen, I find Killian standing behind me.

He drops his hands on the counter, one on either side of me, effectively caging me in. The only thing providing a sliver of space between us is the bowl in my arms.

“W-what are y-you doing?”

He flashes me a grin—the evil kind. “You ruined my suit.”

“I’m sure you can afford more designer suits.”

“With all my ill-gotten doubloons?” He leans in ever so slightly, but in our current state, even half an inch makes all the difference. The heat between us is palpable. So much so I’m worried the dough in my hands won’t simply double in size, it will grow to fill the whole shop. “I’m more of an eye-for-an-eye kind of guy.”

While I was distracted by his proximity, he must’ve reached behind me and coated his right hand in flour because now he smears it over my face. His fingers spread the powdery substance over my cheek and then down my nose to my mouth. His thumb lingers on my lower lip especially long, doing a thorough job of spreading the white powder.

Revenge accomplished, Killian drops his hand back on the counter. A self-satisfied smirk curling his devious mouth.

My heart is pounding at a million beats per minute, but I’m not about to let him see that. Since I’m still holding the bowl, and have no other means to clean myself, I lean forward and wipe my face as best as I can on his black shirt—mouth and all.

I meant the move to be retaliation, but the sensation of his hard chest under my cheek… I don’t hate it.

When I meet his gaze again, he’s looking at me with a mixture of surprise and amusement and some other emotion under the surface that I’m not touching.

“Are you asking for more, Sugar Spoon?”

“I’m not going to food fight with you.” I wish the warning had come out steady and collected, but there’s only so much a woman can take, and my words resembled more of a squeak.

Killian is so little intimidated that he drops his mouth to within a breath of my ear. “What else are you not going to do with me?”

AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS, BILLIONAIRE COWBOY rom-com

When she’s ghosted by yet another Tinder match, Leighton swears off dating for life. Who needs apps and blind dates when she has the perfect-in-every-way (apart from being fictional) heroes of her beloved romance novels?

That night Leigh finds a second-hand book on her TBR pile, which transports her to the small-town of Lakeville Hills, where the heroines wear shorty-shorts and the men drink bourbon. And as Leigh drifts off to sleep, she dreams of billionaire cowboy Killian St Clair, who could win a gold medal for smouldering and bicep flexing.

For a while, Leigh finds it easier to stomach misogynistic supervisors, newly coupled friends, and extravagant bridesmaid duties knowing she can return to Lakeville Hills each evening. Until one day, she wakes up to find she’s brought a bit of Lakeville Hills back with the impossible sexy and entirely implausible Killian St Clair is in her apartment.

Now Leigh must help Killian navigate the real world. But as she gets to know the man behind the trope, can she keep her heart safe, or does she risk falling in love with her book boyfriend in real life?