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One Night Band Stand

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One Night Band Stand
Julia Kent
(Get What You Need, )
Publication date: September 30th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

Who accidentally has a one-night stand with her alumni band director?

Yep. Me.

I know what you’re thinking. Whoops! I slipped on some valve oil and accidentally landed on his baton during a rousing chorus of Stars and Stripes Forever.

That’s not quite how it went.

But the alumni band director is really, really skilled with that baton, if you know what I mean.

So what am I supposed to do now, as I walk into the morning’s rehearsal — three feet from the podium because of course I play piccolo — and find the guy I ghosted on this morning … right there, smiling at me like he remembers exactly what tempo I prefer?

He’s perfect. Too perfect.

He’s a widowed dad of two adorable little kids that — oh, by the way — he forgot to mention.

But I also haven’t mentioned the seventeen-year-old I live with, either. He’s not my boyfriend. I’m his guardian. He’s autistic and non-speaking, and he’s been my whole world since I was nineteen.

I want Mr. Band Director. He wants me. Nothing — not the secrecy, not the awkwardness, not the 500 miles between his life and mine — will make this chemistry stop.

Except for three pesky little things: the secrets we’re hiding from each other. Three very human secrets.

I’ve never felt so seen before. He gets me. I get him. But we’re buried in responsibilities and loyalties that get in the way. When I’m with him, I can play. Really play.

And not just music.

He can’t quit his job and move his kids to be close to me. I can’t uproot a fragile teen who needs round-the-clock care and is still mourning his parents. The odds are stacked against us.

But who ever let that get in the way of love?

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EXCERPT:

There are naked boobies in my bed, and they are not my wife’s.

What have I done?

My body goes cold and hot, skin pulsing against the sheets, blood pooled in morning wood. Wood that rests against my not-wife’s thigh. My eyes widen. My beard itches around my lips, lips that feel raw, my tongue a bit overused at the tip, like I just had sex with –

I cheated on my wife.

I cheated on my wife.

My beautiful, amazing wife who tells me she loves me ten times a day. Who laughs at my stupid music jokes. Who smiles like she’s actually interested in my high school band stories. Who —

Told. Laughed. Smiled.

Past tense, Jared. Two years, two months, four days of past tense.

— is dead.

Stacey’s dead. Right. Damn it.

I close my eyes, jaw tight, inhaling slowly, my nose cold inside, the physicality of it breaking through panic. The unreality of her death still shatters my sleepy self every morning like a car alarm I can’t fully disable, one blissful second of not-knowing, then the loop of grief.

That sour taste. The shock. The anger. The pain, physical and emotional.

Stacey is dead.

Which means I’m not cheating. I’m just in a hotel room with a very naked, incredibly alluring woman who isn’t my wife.

So then who the hell is this in my arms?

She’s cute. Warm. Soft.

So soft.

The arm Ms. Not-Wife is sleeping on went numb in my sleep. I haven’t moved it one millimeter, shoulder locked, neck doing that isometric thing as her weight presses into my bicep. It should be uncomfortable. It isn’t, and somewhere in sleep my hand found her arm and started stroking it. I just realized it’s doing this. My hand likes her.

My cock sure does, too.

I really like the softness. Naked softness takes the liking up several notches.

Another clue this isn’t my wife: I’m on the bathroom side of the bed.

Ms. Not-Wife’s hair is blonde and straight, spread across my arm. Stacey’s was darker, curly, and Stacey had to pee constantly, especially after giving birth to our oldest, Molly. Every apartment, every house, every hotel, every guest room, every beach rental for nineteen years: Stacey got the bathroom side.

The woman in my bed is not Stacey.

The HVAC unit hums on an E-flat that’s four cents flat. Not concert E-flat. An E-flat that vibrates like it’s committing a felony against freon. It is the most passive-aggressive sound in Indiana, and that’s saying a lot, because have you ever gone to a church picnic in this state? Those ladies are lowkey brutal.

The print above the bed is a seashore painting, a Thomas Kincade knockoff, something a lifelong southern Indiana resident thought would evoke Cape Cod but instead makes me think Dungeons and Dragons on acid. It goes with the burnt-orange carpeting somehow. I half expect a Jello-O egg mold as part of the continental breakfast downstairs in the bar where I picked up… this woman.

I actually approached a woman at a hotel bar, and she chose to sleep with me.

Me.

Not-Wife’s hand is on my chest. She has short nails, no polish, the thumb hooked into the dip below my collarbone like she put it there on purpose. Her thumb knows what it’s doing, which is more than I can say for the rest of me. Her ribcage moves into my ribcage every four or five seconds and back out, long even breathing so constant I’ve started matching it without meaning to.

Waking her up means having to talk, and I don’t know what you say after you pick up a woman in a hotel bar and now you’re both naked under the sheets, vulnerable and freaking out a little, yet liking it.

A lot.

Not-Wife smells like vanilla and sex and the chemical-linen scent of every business hotel pillowcase put into circulation since 1994. The bar lighting was bad last night, so I’m seeing things this morning I couldn’t see then: a mole on her cheek. Long dark lashes against it. A dimple at the corner of her mouth that’s there even when she’s not smiling.

She’s gorgeous.

Morning-gorgeous, unadulterated. Her face was not-yet-defined last night, just a woman who was blonde and smiling under bad bar lighting. She has lips I kissed last night, a tongue that danced with mine and tasted so good, and her breasts are smashed against my side like little pets curled up, seeking warmth.

I have forgotten how nice this is.

A person breathing into your neck. A warm softness against your body. Your bare skin against theirs. I took this for granted for too many years, and once it was gone I felt the absence like a phantom limb.

Author Bio:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2.5 million books, with 5 New York Times bestsellers and more than 23 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, Dutch, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.

From single dads to cinnamon roll heroes to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).

She lives in New England with her husband, three children, and a Havanese dog named Walter. She is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls (Walter gets a pass).

She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com

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The Awful Truth

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The Awful Truth
Melanie Summers
(The Glass Houses Collection, )
Publication date: September 24th 2026
Genres: Adult, Suspense, Thriller, Women’s Fiction

They have money. Status. And terrible judgment.

It was supposed to be the ultimate escape. A curated guest list. A luxury yacht. A week on the crystal-clear Adriatic, far from everyone’s real lives.

Except no one is there for the view. Careers, contracts, and futures are all quietly in play.

Antonia and Ted have built a global brand on their perfect marriage, which would be more convincing if they could still stand each other. Mercy has spent years smoothing over the worst instincts of her powerful husband, convinced the man she fell in love with is still there. Winslow is hiding a secret that could end his career, while his husband, Miguel, is carrying news that will change everything between them.

And then there’s Charlotte—the assistant everyone overlooks. Which gives her an excellent view of everything.

The first night, the drinks flow, the gossip gets vicious, and everyone shares far more than they should. But what’s a little indiscretion among new friends?

The trouble with a yacht is that there’s nowhere to go once you’ve said too much. No separate hotels. No quick exits. Just the same people, fewer places to hide, and another breakfast together in the morning.

By the third day, one marriage is as good as over. One guest is desperate enough to do something irreversible. And Mercy is realizing the man she loved was all for show—and the man she fears is who he really is.

Before any of them set foot on solid ground again, one of them will be dead in the water.

Privilege has protected them from consequences for years. But desperation can make even very comfortable people do terrible things.

The Awful Truth is a sharp, warm, wickedly funny domestic suspense novel about marriage, power, and the spectacularly bad decisions people make when they have everything to lose. For readers who love the wit and heart of Liane Moriarty and Sally Hepworth, with the glamor and menace of The White Lotus.

Heat Level: Open door, spicy not explicit
Tone: A fast-paced, suspenseful, emotional, character-driven drama
Series Type: Standalone, part of a collection of domestic suspense novels
Ending: Emotionally satisfying, book club / upmarket resolution
POV: Multi-POV, third person
Content Notes: Infidelity, emotional abuse dynamics, death, suicidal ideation, brief sexual violence, psychological tension

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Charlotte sat back, tuning out the conversation while she stared out at the hills and smattering of buildings along the highway. So far, the city wasn’t much to look at. A lot of low brush and an irritating bank alongside the road that only allowed the briefest glimpse of the water. But soon, she’d be surrounded on all sides by the clear blue Adriatic Sea, and she felt a surge of excitement. It was her first time in Europe. As a teenager, she always thought she’d go right out of high school—backpacking and staying in hostels for a few months, really living, as her mother, who’d never gone farther than Niagara Falls from their home in Muskegon, would say. But in the end, Charlotte met a boy and decided he was more exciting than Italy and France and England combined. Only he wasn’t. He was a huge disappointment, and by the time she realized it, it was already move-in week at the University of Michigan.

So here she was, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, getting her first taste of the ‘old world.’ This wasn’t how she imagined it (few things were)—sandwiched between her lover and her lover’s wife in the back of a limo—but this was how she had arrived. Charlotte was sleepy and mixed up and felt guilty as all hell, but she was here. She had made it. She’d take as many glamorous pics as she could to post on her Instagram account. Her friends would be filled with envy which they would mask with comments like, ‘Looking hot, mama!’ and ‘You deserve it. You work so hard. Have an amazing time, girlie!’

But she wouldn’t be having an amazing time, would she? She’d likely be working long hours—maybe even through the night—to liaise between the studio and her bosses, not to mention having a front row seat to the ‘Ted and Antonia pretending to be blissfully happy’ show, which she’d much rather skip. She knew it was all bullshit, at least on Ted’s part. An act meant to keep the multi-million-dollar ruse going. It was bad enough when they were on set and she had to watch them gaze into each other’s eyes and act like they were still in the playful honeymoon phase. Ted had warned her that they’d have to lay it on extra thick around Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, but not to let it get to her. Because he only wanted her.

None of that was stuff she could share on Instagram, or tell her friends, for that matter. She’d keep her secret and smile, like she always did. But at least she could pretend she was having a wonderful time.

Author Bio:

Melanie Summers also writes steamy romance as MJ Summers.

Melanie made a name for herself with her debut novel, Break in Two, a contemporary romance that cracked the Top 10 Paid on Amazon in both the UK and Canada, and the top 50 Paid in the USA. Her highly acclaimed Full Hearts Series was picked up by both Piatkus Entice (a division of Hachette UK) and HarperCollins Canada. Her first three books have been translated into Czech and Slovak by EuroMedia. Since 2013, she has written and published three novellas, and eight novels (of which seven have been published). She has sold over a quarter of a million books around the globe.

In her previous life (i.e. before having children), Melanie got her Bachelor of Science from the University of Alberta, then went on to work in the soul-sucking customer service industry for a large cellular network provider that shall remain nameless (unless you write her personally – then she’ll dish). On her days off, she took courses and studied to become a Chartered Mediator. That designation landed her a job at the R.C.M.P. as the Alternative Dispute Resolution Coordinator for ‘K’ Division. Having had enough of mediating arguments between gun-toting police officers, she decided it was much safer to have children so she could continue her study of conflict in a weapon-free environment (and one which doesn’t require makeup and/or nylons).

Melanie resides in Edmonton with her husband, three young children, and their adorable but neurotic one-eyed dog. When she’s not writing novels, Melanie loves reading (obviously), snuggling up on the couch with her family for movie night (which would not be complete without lots of popcorn and milkshakes), and long walks in the woods near her house. She also spends a lot more time thinking about doing yoga than actually doing yoga, which is why most of her photos are taken ‘from above’. She also loves shutting down restaurants with her girlfriends. Well, not literally shutting them down, like calling the health inspector or something–more like just staying until they turn the lights off.

She is represented by Suzanne Brandreth of The Cooke Agency International.

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Blood Code #CoverReveal

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Blood Code
Hazel St. Lewis
(Fury Verse: Volume 1, )
Publication date: October 15th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Dark Romance, Romance

I’ve spent years hiding in plain sight. The Russians call me a ghost. A myth. A monster lurking in the dark.

Good.

I am taunting Severin Volkov. I am hunting him. But the closer I get to crossing his name off my ledger, the harder it becomes to remember why I’m supposed to hate him. He should be my enemy and my final victim.

Instead, he’s becoming my greatest weakness.

⸻

The Ghost is no longer a rumor. Every lead points to a woman who shouldn’t exist. Every answer uncovers a new lie. Someone is manipulating my organization from within, feeding information to our enemies and staying one step ahead of me at every turn.

I will find the traitor.

I will find the Ghost.

And when I do, I’ll make them regret they were ever born. But as old secrets surface and loyalties begin to fracture, I’m forced to confront a possibility far more dangerous than betrayal: What if the woman I’m hunting is the one person I can’t afford to lose?

BLOOD CODE is book two in Fury Verse: Volume 1. It is a dark mafia romance featuring a female serial killer, enemies-to-lovers tension, and obsessive romance.

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Author Bio:

Hazel St. Lewis is a Romantasy author. Diagnosed with dyslexia at a young age, she struggled to read and write, but fantasy stories inspired her to start storytelling. Unfortunately, now, she is a little too obsessed with morally gray characters. When she isn’t writing, she can be found playing with her hoard of cats (too many to count…it’s a problem), singing songs to said cats, or painting.

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Bad Decisions and Back Roads

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Bad Decisions & Back Roads: Second Chance Veterinary Romance
Zoe Forward
(Southern Veterinary, )
Publication date: August 3rd 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

The problem with bad decisions is you never stop wanting them.

I used to be the rebellious girl from the wrong side of the fenceline. He was the local hellraiser nobody could tame. While our families carried on a feud older than indoor plumbing, we fell for each other.

Then my vicious father found out. To save Timothy’s life, I broke his heart and disappeared.

Now over a decade later, I’m back as a large-animal veterinarian, working at his brother’s clinic and treating everything from prize dairy cows to Timothy’s homicidal llama. Avoiding him should be easy.

It isn’t.

He’s a single dad running two businesses, still infuriatingly irresistible, and determined to make me pay for every year he spent hating me.

The problem? I never stopped loving him. But if he learns why I really left, I could lose him forever.

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EXCERPT:

“Yesterday…I wrecked you?” She gave me a look I remembered. Her green eyes flared. I was about to lose this fight in a way I’d never recover from.

She slowly unzipped her coveralls. My brain immediately abandoned ship. Not helped by the fact that traitorous memory chose this exact moment to replay yesterday’s rainstorm in vivid detail.

Meanwhile, in real time, she peeled the coveralls down and somehow stepped out of them while keeping her socks from touching the ground—a feat of female sorcery I could neither explain nor stop watching.

Underneath was a tight white shirt that clung in ways that should probably require a warning label, a permit, and possibly a pastor on standby.

My eyes briefly closed. Opened. She was still there.

Beside me, Cody made a small choking noise.

I cut him a glare.

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Then—because she enjoyed cruelty—she lifted both arms and twisted her hair into a messy bun. Which did things. Terrible, magnificent things to her chest.

Her mouth curved like she knew exactly what she’d done. She pulled a scrub top out of the duffle and pulled it down over the tight shirt. Without a word, she packed the supplies into her duffel, casually picked up the dart rifle from the ground, and started walking up the hill like she hadn’t just detonated every functioning brain cell in a fifty-yard radius.

Then she tossed over her shoulder—

“I’m back, Timothy Hurst. End of story.” A few steps later she said, “You’re welcome…for dealing with your dangerous llama.”

Author Bio:

USA Today bestselling author Zoe Forward is a parent, wife, veterinarian, and unapologetic chocolate lover. She writes spicy paranormal and contemporary romances that blend action, adventure, humor, and a touch of magic.

Zoe lives in the South with a lively menagerie of four-legged beasts and two slightly wild kids.

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The Hollow Crown #CoverReveal

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The Hollow Crown
Martina Boone
(The Five Crowns, )
Publication date: March 9th 2027
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance

Every night, magic makes him forget her. Every day, she makes him fall for her again.

Flora Domhnall survived the Hunt, claimed the Crown of Moonlight, and woke a magic unseen in Alba Scoria for over four hundred years. But her coronation didn’t end the war. The Highlands are still burning, and the immortal warrior Flora needs at her side is still bound by oaths that see her as a threat. Chyr loves her as fiercely as she loves him—but if he remembers who she is, the oaths carved into his flesh will force him to kill her.

Each morning, he wakes wary, lost to her, and dangerous. Each day, he is drawn back by echoes of a love he cannot name. By evening, tenderness returns, desire returns, and with them come glimpses of the man who chose Flora over a crown, a kingdom, and the oaths that keep him chained.

Then she has to let him go again.

The Raven Queen is still waging her war across Alba Scoria. She turns hunger, grief, and fear into weapons, leaving poisoned wells, starving villages, and broken clans in her wake. To save her people, Flora must become more than a symbol, more than a queen. She must become the healer of a wounded land—even if that means trusting the man whose love may be the most dangerous thing about him.

The war needs them both. But if Flora cannot break the oaths carved into Chyr’s flesh, the love that saves him each day may become the wound neither of them survives.

The Hollow Crown is the second book in The Five Crowns, a sweeping Celtic romantic fantasy series of forbidden magic, impossible oaths, ancient queens, Highland war, and a love story fierce enough to defy the gods. For the full emotional impact, begin with The Crown of Moonlight.

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Author Bio:

Martina Boone is the award-winning author of romantic fiction set in magical places. Her books blend lush writing, strong heroines, wounded heroes, atmospheric landscapes, history, folklore, family secrets, and magic woven through the ordinary world. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found traveling, reading, studying history and folklore, wrangling wildflower meadows, or playing with Shetland Sheepdogs and tuxedo cats.

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