An excerpt from my end-of-May release!

May 21, 2022May 19, 2022Leave a comment

Dear book Lover,
I thought it would be fun to share with you a sneak peek from Sweet Love and Country Roads (coming May 31). If you like feisty banter, a good enemies to lovers trope in the backdrop of a quaint, small town, and a little city girl v/s country boy action this is the book for you!

I also wanted to give you a remainder this is the last week To the Stars and Back will be free at all retailers, so grab a copy before the price goes back to $3.99. This is the “prequel” to Sweet Love and Country Roads, even if both novels are standalones. TTSAB features the first introduction of my newest heroine Samantha Baker. If you’ve already read this book, you’ll be delighted to know Christian and Lana will make a cameo in the new story 🙂

This is also your last chance to enter the Sweet Love and Country Roads paperback giveaway on Goodreads.

And finally, I have a new cover reveal for the My Funny Valentine collection.

Scroll down for the sneak peek (it includes a country style meet-cute), the Goodreads giveaway link, all other books and pre-order links, and the newsletter exclusive giveaway!

Sweet Love and Country Roads Excerpt

Chick Lit Book

I navigate through the airport security checks like a malfunctioning human droid, and just before boarding, I indulge in the last decent cup of double-shot vanilla latte.

As I sit on the plane, I pull my sleeping mask over my eyes, ready to snatch a couple of hours’ extra sleep during the journey.

Once we land, I rinse and repeat, pulling my sleeping mask on the moment my assistant and I step into the black truck a member of the film crew drove to Louisville to pick us up.

I’m jostled awake a while later when the pickup comes to an abrupt stop. The arrest is so sudden, only a fastened seatbelt prevents me from bumping my head into the front seat.

I yank off the sleeping mask. “What’s going on?”

Jerry Mallon, the driver and our on-set carpenter and handyman, turns back toward me. “A cow is blocking the street.”

“A cow?”

I exit the truck to check the situation. We’re on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields. No, not even fields—more like pastures. An endless expanse of grass on both sides. And in front of us, blocking the way, a gigantic brown cow with white patches is grazing the grass growing at the side of the road.

I get closer, and Jerry and Celia join me. “Can’t we just side-step it? The ground seems pretty flat at the road’s edges and we have a pickup.”

Jerry inches his chin in that direction. “There are ditches on both sides, hardly noticeable in the tall grass, but I’m not sure how deep they go and I wouldn’t want to risk getting tipped over or stuck.”

I shield my eyes with my hand against the midday sun and squint at the winding road ahead. Nothing beyond the cow.

“Can we take a different route?”

Jerry removes his baseball cap and scratches the back of his head. “The thing is, the GPS gets iffy in these parts, and I’m not exactly sure where your farm is.”

“My farm? What do you mean, my farm?”

“Sagebrush Ranch, isn’t that where we’re going?”

“No. We’re going to a hotel in town.” I turn to my assistant. “Aren’t we?”

Celia wrings her fingers and looks at me apologetically. “That was the plan, but the two inns in town had most weekends booked and couldn’t accommodate us for such a long stay. I had to find a more creative solution. A ‘bed and breakfast’ sort of thing.” Celia puts her hands forward. “Which is much better because we’ll have access to a fully equipped kitchen. We couldn’t have survived three months on take-out.”

I’m about to reply that I’ve survived most of my life on take-outs, but then I remember this is Indiana and not New York. I’m not sure how many healthy delivery options they have in Emerald Creek.

Oh my gosh, what am I going to eat? Then, once again, I remember we have to accommodate a full cast of Hollywood-spoiled actors and their dietary quirks. Hence, we have an on-site chef and a community barn for meals and meetings at the ranch we’re renting as the primary set.

“Don’t be silly,” I tell Celia, irritated. “We’re going to eat with the rest of the crew.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I’ve never been on location. Anyway, the bed and breakfast was the only spot with rooms for the entire summer.”

I wonder why. Oh my gosh, she probably booked us into a hovel.

“And what about the on-site cabins?” I snap.

“All occupied.”

My head is already hurting. And not just for the lack of sleep or the excessive alcohol intake of last night.

It must be all the fresh air.

I need to sleep and, hovel or not, I don’t care as long as they have a bed for me.

But before we can get there, we need to overcome our little cattle problem.

I stare at the other two and they stare back at me, expectantly. “So our only hope is to make that cow move?”

They nod sheepishly.

“Let’s make it move, then. How hard can it be?”

Again, they both just stare at me.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

I approach the cow and size up the animal. My opponent continues grazing, unperturbed. I give her a gentle pat on the hindquarters. Nothing happens. I slap her harder, saying, “Move.”

The wretched animal lifts her head, still munching, and observes me, unimpressed. Once she’s finished chewing, she moos at me.

“What does that mean? I don’t speak cow. Can you please move out of the way?”

I try to push her forward, at which point she raises her tail and… I jump backward just before a pile of brown mush hits the ground, specks of the semi-solid substance landing dangerously close to my precious calf-hair stilettos. Then the smell hits my nostrils, making me want to gag.

Before I even have time to put a hand over my mouth, an uproarious laugh to my left makes me turn.

A man is sitting on horseback near the road. I take in his cowboy boots and hat, the faded jeans smudged with dirt and dust, and the checkered shirt.

Dude, you couldn’t be more of a stereotype if you tried.

Under the shadow of that giant, ridiculous hat, and with the sun coming in from behind him, I can’t properly see his face, but the smile is arrogant enough to irk me even more.

“Is this yours?” I ask, pointing at the cow.

The man tips his hat at me. “Sure is, miss.”

“Would you mind moving her so we can be on our way?”

The cowboy whistles in response. “Come on, Betsy, yeeha, yeehaw, yeeee-haw, time to go.”

The cow flattens one ear but otherwise ignores her owner.

I cross my arms at this poor display of cowboy showmanship.

In response, the man bends sideways over his saddle and grabs a rope that he swings over his head once, twice, and then throws it around the cow’s neck.

Show-off.

Cow secured, he whistles sharply at her to move. Nudged by the rope around her neck, Betsy has no choice but to follow. She abandons her grass, hops across the ditch in a surprisingly graceful jump for such a large animal, and goes to stand next to the horse.

“Road’s all clear,” the cowboy says. “Where are you folks headed, anyway?”

“Sagebrush Ranch,” Jerry replies. “Is it far?”

“Not at all.” The cowboy points at a bend in the road. “Once you pass that turn, it’s another two miles before the gate comes into view.”

“Thanks,” Jerry says.

“No problem.” The cowboy tips his hat again. “Have a nice day.”

He frees Betsy from the lasso, then turns his horse around and, emitting clicking sounds, he digs his heels into the stirrups and leaves at a trot.

I watch him go, then stare back at the pile of dung in the middle of the road that pretty much summarizes my impression of Indiana so far.

Get lassoed into your next great romance at:

Goodreads Book Giveaway US and CA

Sweet Love and Country Roads

by Camilla Isley

Giveaway ends May 27, 2022.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Cover Reveal

The First Disaster will be part of the My Funny Valentine rom-com collection!

I’m pleased to present a first look at a hilarious story filled with dating disasters that will take us all on a laugh out-loud journey to find the answer to the question:

How Many Dates Does It Take to Find Mr. Right?

Pre-order this alongside other 25+ full-length novels for only 99c

If you shop on Amazon despair not, the Amazon pre-order will be here soon!

To the Stars and Back is still FREE at all retailers… the offer will be available only for another week so go download your copy of this sweet rom-com on me… cheers!

When Hollywood’s sexiest bachelor meets the girl next door their relationship doesn’t follow the script…

On-screen, Christian Slade is America’s favorite heartthrob. Off-screen, letting romance into his life isn’t as easy. The women he dates all seem to want a piece of his glamorous life rather than his heart, and trust doesn’t come easy for him. Then along comes Lana. A beautiful rocket scientist who’s also sweet, smart, sexy, and has absolutely no idea who he is. But what will happen when she finds out?

Will their worlds prove too far apart or could love really be like in the movies?

FREE in eBook at:

Available in Audiobook:

Available in Print:

Books in the First Comes Love Series:

Fool Me Twice at Christmas – Chapter One

September 22, 2021September 24, 2021Leave a comment

A Hilarious Fake Engagement, Small Town, Holiday Romance…

Fake Engagement Romantic Comedy One

Chuck

What a beautiful, crappy day. The sun shines on a gloriously snow-lined Interstate 75 in staggering contrast to my stormy mood. On a regular day, I wouldn’t particularly enjoy driving for hours—I get motion-sick pretty easily, even if I’m at the wheel. But today I’d trade a limb, or possibly even a minor, non-vital organ, to be anywhere other than stuck in a rental car with my ex-girlfriend-turned-fake-girlfriend as we head home for the holidays.

I tap my fingertips on the steering wheel and throw a glance at the emerald numbers of the car’s digital clock—and we’ve still got two hours of sunny road ahead! Joy of joys.

Kate and I started fighting the moment I pulled up in front of our old apartment in Ann Arbor at noon to pick her up. Too late, in her opinion. A wasted half day. A totally reasonable hour for me, considering I had to pack, grab a bite to eat before the long journey, and walk to the rental office to collect the car, which of course wasn’t the right model. Toy-size, according to Kate; perfectly proportioned, according to me. Then, we argued about the dimensions of her luggage—exaggerated in my eyes, essential in hers—which also explained why she considered the car too small.

“I have presents to bring home,” she argued. “Didn’t you buy any?”

And when I said I planned to do my Christmas shopping in Bluewater Springs, she gave a theatrical eye roll. “Of course, why would you put some thought and care in choosing gifts for your loved ones? Do it last minute, like always. It’s your specialty.”

To which I didn’t respond.

But the bickering isn’t why we’re sitting so tensely in this overstuffed Nissan Versa we risk snapping in half at every bump on the road. No, we’re on pins and needles because, for the past four months, we’ve barely been in each other’s lives. Definitely not in person. Definitely not for hours at a time. And definitely not in such a confined space like the passenger compartment of a—allegedly tiny—car.

Until today, our sole communications since the end of summer break amounted to the odd, informational text about momentous happenings in our days the other should be aware of to keep up the farce. As relationships go, ours grew nice and steady over the years as we progressed from best friends to dating to living together, but then crashed alarmingly fast on the way down—a falling, vertical smear of a breakup that flat-lined into this fake-relationship sham we’re now carrying out for the sake of our families.

Anyway, now that she’s run out of criticisms, Kate is giving me the silent treatment. Which she knows I hate.

Silence is uncomfortable.

Angry silence is unbearable.

When I can’t stand the bitter muteness any longer, I give up and ask a question on the only topic that still unites us. “How do you want to tell them?”

Kate, who’s been pointedly staring out the window, her big brown eyes unwilling to meet mine even for a glimpse, turns on me. “Since you’re telling them, you can do it however you choose.”

I frown. “Why should I be the one to tell our parents?”

“Because it’s all your fault.”

“If I remember correctly, you dumped me. So, if anyone should take the blame, it’s you.”

Kate pulls a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear and crosses her arms over her chest. “Not when you didn’t leave me any choice, with you being such an immature—”

“Save it,” I interrupt, staring at the straight, infinite road ahead. “I don’t care to listen to a list of my shortcomings again. And I sure won’t stand in front of the firing squad alone. I wouldn’t even know what to tell them.”

“Go with the truth. It’s always the best approach.”

“Which would be?”

“That we don’t love each other anymore.”

Ah.

My mouth parches as I remember the day she informed me of this fact. Needless to say, Kate’s decision to end things between us totally blindsided me. A sudden breakup with no chance of an appeal after a romance that had lasted almost a decade came to me as a real shock. A freezing-cold shower.

And, okay, maybe I wasn’t grand-gesturing her every other day, and I might’ve taken our relationship a little too much for granted. I’m man enough to admit that. But I’d always assumed we’d grow old together. She was my rock, and I was hers. Full stop.

Only, she had different plans. Plans that involved a new, shinier, half-Cuban rock.

No, she didn’t cheat on me, I’m positive. Kate just moved on painfully and humiliatingly fast. I don’t know the details—I haven’t asked—but we still have enough friends in common for the news to reach me that she has a new boyfriend. Marco Guerra.

His Instagram account, where he delights his followers with daily sweaty videos of himself working out at the gym, has given me enough insight into this guy’s life to know he’s the complete opposite of my nerdy, computer-rat self.

Marco is a stud, but, other than that, what do they talk about when they’re together? How many pounds he can bench press?

Admittedly, the dude’s not all brawn. He must have some brain, considering he teaches Latin American and Caribbean Art to undergrads at the University of Michigan. That must be it: his knowledge of the arts provides him enough savoir faire and catchphrases to hoodwink women. Kate must feel oh-so-sophisticated for dating a professor.

I keep my focus on the road ahead and don’t contradict her declaration that our love is over. Instead, I move on to the last practical step needed to put an official end to my first and only relationship: how to tell our families.

It would have been easier if our parents were just old friends who’d always dreamed about their offspring getting married and merging the bloodlines. But no, the Warrens and the Roses do nothing in half measures. Our parents are not only the best of friends, but also business partners and co-owners, with a twenty-five percent share each, of The Bluewater Springs Chocolate Company.

Bluewater Springs is renowned in America for exactly two things: our stunning fall foliage, and our delicious chocolates. The factory is the only industry in our hometown, a small village on Lake Michigan about fifteen minutes north of Traverse City, which makes us basically celebrities there. Big fish in a small pond, as that notoriety doesn’t extend much past the town’s borders.

Our parents founded the business as newlyweds fresh out of college, and they’ve grown the organization for thirty years, turning The Bluewater Springs Chocolate Company into an international corporation that distributes to over forty countries worldwide.

But the company isn’t just a business for us; it’s a dream we all share and want to keep expanding moving forward. My very first memories growing up are within the factory halls, back when both our families used to live in the twin attic apartments above the original production facilities. The apartments no longer exist, and have long since been turned into office spaces, but my entire childhood is crammed into that building.

But I digress. The main side effect of our parents’ success and unbreakable friendship is the way they’ve been invested in my relationship with Kate since we started dating in high school.

Now that I think about it, the familial pressure probably didn’t help us make things work. It might have even been a wedge driving us apart. The sense of entrapment. The obligations and expectations that our parents and the town put on us as heirs to the chocolate kingdom. And the unwillingness we had to disappoint them.

I sigh, trying to find some middle ground, now, between us. “Why don’t I tell my mom and dad, and you tell yours?” I propose. “It’s only fair.”

Kate pouts in that way that is not a ‘yes,’ but not a definite ‘no’ either. I’ll mark it down as a victory and interpret her silence as tacit consent.