Exclusive excerpt: Crazy Over You by Daisy Prescott

Coming next week is Daisy Prescott’s new second-chance romance, Crazy Over You. I love Daisy’s feel-good romantic comedies and so excited to give you a sneak peek at this second standalone installment in the Love With Altitude series.

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About Crazy Over You

My savior isn’t prince charming.

I’m not that lucky.

He’s my worst nightmare.

He’s my one-night stand from two years ago.

And he doesn’t remember me.

What happens on vacation doesn’t always stay on vacation. Especially in a place like Aspen. I moved to the mountains for my dream vet job. I never expected to run into the man of my dreams. Again.

I never thought I’d see her again.

My Cinderella didn’t leave me a shoe to find her.

Not that I’d need random footwear to recognize her.

Her kiss is something I’ll never forget.

Work hard. Play hard. I’m paid to be a nice guy on the slopes, but what I do in my off time isn’t always about making good choices. That’s the fun of living in a ski town. I stay while the women come and go.


“I was okay until the top of this run. I survived the road of certain extinction with rocks on one side and death on the other. Figured I was safe. Then I hit the top of this section and too much adrenaline hit me. I shouldn’t be here. I’m not this kind of girl.”

His shoulders lift with amusement. “Not what kind of girl?”

The kind of girl who would notice the drop in his voice and how the words come out sounding less like a question and more like hopeful lust. I wonder if women create fake reasons all day long to meet cute ski patrol on the mountain. How far would some women go?

All the way. They’d go all the way.

They’d do whatever it takes to meet a cute guy.

“No, not that kind of girl. I should’ve stayed with the blue runs. I’m comfortable with blue. Blue is a great color. The sky, the ocean. They’re both blue. And water. Like snow.”

His shoulders shake. “Thanks for the science lesson.”

“Stop laughing at me. I could’ve died.”

“Not on my watch. I haven’t lost a skier yet. I woke up in a good mood this morning, so I know today’s not the day to have that record broken by a beautiful woman who likes to take risks.”

My cheeks heat, but I let his compliment slip away without commenting. Is this all part of the snow bunny and skier dance? Or is he distracting me with praise?

It’s working.

“I don’t suppose there’s a way off this side of the mountain that doesn’t involve the words black or diamond?”

“Sadly, only one. Do you need the toboggan?”

Oh, hell no.

I duck my chin. I can feel the giant pom-pom on my hat droop forward. “Maybe.”

“I have another solution.”

“Does it involve further humiliation?”

“No, of course not. I can ski you down to the lift. You’ll have to go back up to get to the village, but you’ll have your choice of green and blue runs down to Fanny Hill. Or I can call for the toboggan …” His words trail off as he grabs the radio strapped to his chest.

Images of him skiing with me in his arms flash through my mind. “You’d carry me?”

He releases a surprised chuckle. “I would if necessary, but I’m thinking you’ll ski down with my help.”

The picture of him lifting me into his arms as if I weigh nothing and the two of us swooping off into the distance fades.

“How?” I peek at his profile.

“I’ll ski and you’ll hold onto my pole.”

Mara, do not make this dirty.

He shifts to stand and holds out his hand. “Think you can manage that?”

“You want me to trust you with my life?” I eye his glove, but don’t reach for it.

“I do. I’m more than qualified.” He points a gloved hand to the cross emblem on his sleeve. “See? Want a list of my credentials?”

I remain sitting. “Shouldn’t you have a St. Bernard with a barrel of whiskey around its neck to revive me?”

“First of all, my dog’s a Norwegian duck tolling retriever mix, and Fern’s too young to drink. Second, St. Bernards carry brandy.”

“Get a lot of ducks up here needing rescuing?”

“Only chicks.” He fights a grin and a dimple of suppression reveals itself on his left cheek. Dimples are the sprinkles on top of chocolate cake, and his reminds me of someone.

I narrow my eyes at his bad, and pretty sexist pun. Since he literally holds my life in his hands, I decide to stick to the safe subject of canines.

“You have a work dog? Like an avalanche dog?” I accept his hand to be lifted up.

“Not like. Is. Hardest working member of ski patrol.” He lets go of my hand to position my skis.

“I don’t suppose you have a flask in your backpack?” I gesture at the black bag I’m pretty sure is filled with first aid supplies.

He shakes his head. “Not even a thermos of cocoa.”

I finally meet his kind eyes. The irises are a surprising light, warm caramel brown with darker brown near the edge. They remind me of crème brûlée. Chocolate cake might be my favorite, but I wouldn’t kick a nice crème brûlée out of bed.

His eyes are also vaguely familiar.

Series reading order
Each can be read as a standalone

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Exclusive Chapter 1 excerpt: The Hard Truth About Sunshine by Sawyer Bennett

Coming next week is a gripping and emotional romance from Sawyer Bennett. I’m so excited to give you an exclusive sneak peek into The Hard Truth About Sunshine, which is available to pre-order now!

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About The Hard Truth About Sunshine

New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett has written her most gripping and poignant tale yet. Provocatively heart-breaking, audaciously irreverent and romantically fulfilling, The Hard Truth About Sunshine exposes just how very thin the line is between a full life and an empty existence.

Despite having narrowly escaped death’s clutches, Christopher Barlow is grateful for nothing. His capacity to love has been crushed. He hates everyone and everything, completely unable to see past the gray stain of misery that coats his perception of the world. It’s only after he involuntarily joins a band of depressed misfits who are struggling to overcome their own problems, does Christopher start to re-evaluate his lot in life.

What could they possibly learn from one another? How could they possibly help each other to heal? And the question that Christopher asks himself over and over again… can he learn to love again?

He’s about to find out as he embarks upon a cross country trip with a beautiful woman who is going blind, a boy with terminal cancer, and an abuse victim who can’t decide whether she wants to live or die.

Four people with nothing in common but their destination. They will encounter adventure, thrills, loss and love. And within their travels they will learn the greatest lesson of all.

The hard truth about sunshine…


Chapter 1

Sometimes I marvel at the stupid shit I do. When I was seven, I tried to see how many dandelions I could put up my sister’s nose. She was three at the time, and as it turns out, four was the magic number. It took a lot of concentration on my part, especially because she wasn’t quite so sure she wanted to participate. But it was only two in each nostril, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

But that wasn’t the truly stupid thing I did on that occasion. When she started getting upset that her nose was clogged full of flowers, I tried to pull them out, but dandelions are a lot easier to stuff into closed quarters than to pull them out with clumsy little boy fingers. Apparently, it was a brilliant stupid idea to get my mama’s crochet needle to pull them out.

While, technically, I didn’t yank her brains out with the hooked end, I wasn’t as delicate as I guess I should have been, and there may have been some blood involved. That earned me an ass whippin’ from my pa—using his belt, of course—that made it impossible for me to sit down for three full days.

From my ma, I only got the guilt trip. “Christopher James Barlow… I’m so disappointed in you. You could have pulled her brains out.”

No, Ma… pretty sure I couldn’t have done that.

Then there was the time in high school when some buddies and I thought it would be fun to break into the principal’s office at night and super glue every movable object in there to something else. Turns out, not so fun when you get caught.

Or when I was dating Cici Carlan and thought I could also date Kim Flick at the same time, and neither would be the wiser.

Turns out that girls talk.

A lot.

Stupid, stupid shit I get myself into.

Of course, those were just things that were pettily foolish. I’ve committed far worse idiocies over my life that resulted in bad consequences death and destruction for all involved. Sounds dramatic, but it’s completely true.

But today… at twenty-six years of age… I marvel over my latest act of foolishness as I head west on I-40. I’m driving my big black Suburban filled with a misfit crew of people I can barely stand but have committed to spending the next several days with them on the open road.

“Christopher, can you turn the A/C down a bit?” a timid voice asks from the backseat directly behind me. My eyes cut to my rearview mirror, and I look at Dead Kid’s reflection. His hand pulls nervously at the collar of his t-shirt and I can see a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, extending upward to the bald top of his head and across his acne-infested cheeks.

“You going to be sick?” I ask suspiciously as I turn the temperature down before looking back in the mirror to try to determine if that’s a tinge of green to his skin.

“No,” he assures me, tugging at his collar. “Just hot.”

“Tell me if you’re going to be sick,” I insist, my foot easing off the gas and my eyes going to the passenger-side mirror to see if I can start making my way over to the shoulder of the interstate in case he needs to puke.

He shakes his head and looks at me through the rearview mirror, giving me a reassuring smile that fully reaches his brown eyes, which, admittedly, haven’t seemed as dull as they had for the past few weeks. “Not going to be sick.”

I let my gaze drift back to the road, accepting his word.

Not going to be sick, but you’re definitely going to die. That’s a fact, kid.

“Here… barf in this if you have to,” Goth Chick says from the backseat, and my eyes cut back to the mirror. She hands him a McDonald’s bag that had previously held the sausage biscuits we ate for breakfast.

“I’m not going to puke,” he reiterates in a firm voice, but I notice he takes the bag.

“You better not,” Goth Chick warns, her teeth flashing in a grimace made whiter by the black lipstick she’s wearing.

“He said he’s not sick so leave him alone,” a softly lilting voice says from beside me in the front passenger seat.

I have to force myself not to turn my head to look at her. Even a brief glance at Jillian Martel and her droopy blue eyes wouldn’t be safe to me, and she’s probably the real reason why I think I’ve made a stupid mistake in taking this trip.

She claims to be suffering from depression because of her condition, but fuck if you’d ever get that from her. Her disposition is as sunny and bright as her golden hair, which I know will be shimmering from the late morning sun that pours in through my glass sunroof overhead if I were to look at her. I’d nicknamed her Sexy Eyes on the day we met and that still holds true today, so it’s best I don’t look at her.

I don’t need the reminder that this girl is the epitome of everything that I am not.

I met this weird-as-hell crew—Sexy Eyes, Goth Chick, and Dead Kid—in a group therapy session where our pit-bull of a leader, Mags Bundy, is desperately trying to facilitate a friendship among us as we work through our issues.

I have little in common with the lot, but there is a thin thread of commonality that connects me to Dead Kid. He’s dying—and I want to die on some occasions—so I guess I’m a bit envious of him. I also have some resonance with Goth Chick. She’s bitter, angry at the world, and likes to smoke pot. I’m also bitter, angry at the world, and like to smoke pot.

But I can’t find anything in common with Sexy Eyes.

There’s an aura of something odd that comes off her. It’s her words, her tone of voice. It’s the way her eyes crinkle slightly when she smiles, which is the most movement I ever really see from them given her medical condition. The way she looks at you directly and the way her shoulders are always loose and relaxed, displaying an overt confidence in herself and surroundings. Out of all of us, she has a firm acceptance of her fate. Setting her even further apart from this group, she doesn’t seem upset about it at all.

In fact, I can’t figure out for the life of me why she’s even in our support group because Jillian Martel is just in a league all by herself, regardless of her disease.

She actually radiates light.



Invincibility regardless of her situation.

She seems filled with so much goddamn delight over life as she knows it that it sort of makes me hate her for it.

But the reason I made a stupid decision and came on this trip is that I’m as equally intrigued by Jillian Martel as I am repelled by her. My intrigue won out, and I agreed to this ludicrous idea of a group journey so I could be near her.

I agreed because I need to know how she does it.

How she can have such a grim future and still smile as if all is right with her world.

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Excerpt: Easy Magic by Kristen Proby

Easy Magic, the fifth book in the Boudreaux series, is coming April 4th and I’m thrilled to share an excerpt with you today!

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About Easy Magic

Family. Responsibility. Stability.

As the co-CEO of Bayou Enterprises, and the eldest of the Boudreaux clan, Beau is the epitome of these. Now that his baby sister Gabby is happily settled down, Beau has moved into the company loft in the heart of the French Quarter to be closer to his office while his own home is built. He doesn’t have time for anything but the family he adores and the company that drives him.

If only the bewitching owner of the herb shop downstairs from Beau’s loft wasn’t so damn tempting.

Mallory Adams is living the life. The good life. The best life for her. After years of hiding who she is, and the gifts she’s been cursed with, Mallory opened her little shop in the French Quarter, offering herbs and lotions for anything from soothing a sunburn to chasing those pesky ghosts New Orleans is known for out of a client’s home. Some call her eccentric, and some say she’s simply odd, and that’s okay with her. She is a bit odd, but in her experience, all of the best people are.

When an old pipe bursts in the loft above her store, flooding her storeroom, Mallory comes face to face with Beau Boudreaux, and she doesn’t need the clairvoyant abilities that have been passed down through generations to know that she’ll never be the same. Beau is her exact opposite; serious, straitlaced. He wears suits for Pete’s sake and probably wouldn’t know the difference between arnica and flaxseed if his life depended on it. But when he touches her, the electricity is through the roof and she’s smart enough to know that a chemistry like theirs doesn’t happen every day.

Can two people so very different possibly find their way to happily ever after?


I turn to look at him and he’s leaning against the door jamb, watching me with lust written all over his face.

I don’t have to be psychic to see it.

He wants me.

He slowly pushes away from the door and moves toward me, his shoulders broad in the white button down shirt, his arms hard where the shirt is rolled to his elbows. His jaw tightens as he gets closer, towering over me because he’s so damn tall, but I’m not afraid of him in the least.

He doesn’t say a word as he lifts his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing under my eye. I wrap my hand around his wrist and lean into his touch, soaking up his warmth. God, I’ve missed being touched.

Being touch by Beau is like being touched for the first time in my life, and I never want him to stop.

He lowers his lips to mine, brushes them lightly, nibbles the corner, and then sinks in for the kiss of my life. He gently urges my mouth open, and licks my lips, and devours me. His hand dives into my hair, and the wall is suddenly at my back as he continues to explore me in ways I didn’t even know existed.

He braces his free hand on the wall above my head, and I fist my hands in his shirt at his sides, holding on for dear life.

Finally, he pulls back, breathing hard, his eyes bright and dilated.

And in the moment, I know. His touch is safe. I can trust it. Him. I’m not bombarded with someone else’s emotions, and I am free to simply feel my own while being intimate with him.

“So that’s what all the hoopla’s about.”

He smirks, and I realize I spoke aloud again, but I’m not embarrassed. Not in the least.

He takes a deep breath and drags his knuckles down my cheek.

“I want to keep you here all night,” he murmurs before kissing my forehead. “So I’d better take you home.”

I smile. He could talk me into staying. But he’s not. And I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me like him even more.

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Spotlight: Twist by Kylie Scott

Coming April 11th is Twistthe new, much-anticipated second book in the Dive Bar series by Kylie Scott! Heart, humor and heat, Kylie’s books have everything you’re looking for in fast-paced, addictive read, and you won’t want to miss this one! To celebrate the upcoming release of Twist, Kylie’s come up with a delish, easy-to-make cocktail! Check it out below!

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The Jam (or Jelly) Jar Cocktail with a Twist

All you need is:

  • A jar of some kind of berry jam (or jelly)
  • A nice quality vodka (I’ve used Ciroc)
  • One lime
  • Club soda or sparkling water
  • Ice
  • A soup spoon
  • A shot glass
  • An empty jar


In the empty jar, put a soup spoon’s worth of your jam (or jelly), a shot of vodka, juice of half a lime (yes twist the hell out that sucker). Put the jar lid on nice and tight and shake the sh#t out of it. Once everything is mixed and the jam (or jelly) broken up, fill the jar with ice and top up your drink club soda or sparkling water. Stir it a little with the wrong end of your spoon so the berry mixture isn’t all down the bottom. Decorate with a sliver of lime, pop in a straw, and enjoy!

About Twist

From New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott comes the second sizzling stand-alone novel in the Dive Bar series!

When his younger brother loses interest in online dating, hot bearded bartender Joe Collins only intends to log into his account and shut it down. Until he reads about her.

Alex Parks is funny, fascinating, and pretty much everything he’s been looking for in a woman—except that she lives across the country. Soon they’re emailing up a storm and telling each other their deepest, darkest secrets…except the one that really matters.

When Alex pays Joe a surprise visit, however, they both discover that when it comes to love, it’s always better with a twist.


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