IF YOU KEEP ME, a new age-gap, forbidden hockey romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Helena Hunting, is coming March 5th! Check out this cover!

Title:  IF YOU KEEP ME
Author:  HELENA HUNTING
Genre:  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Cover Design:  HANG LE
Illustrator:  ROSIE’S FABLES
Release Date:  MARCH 5, 2026

Things I should never, under any circumstances ever do: ask my secret crush, aka. the most notorious (reformed) playboy in pro hockey, to take my virginity.

Too bad, I did.

After a string of terrible dates, I did the unthinkable. I propositioned Flip Madden.

Of course, he said no.
It isn’t that he’s almost a decade older than me and I’m still in university.

But because I’m his coach’s oldest daughter.

Not to mention my dad would bludgeon him with his hockey stick if he found out.

Which he won’t because it will never happen.

And now things are awkward because there’s no going back.

Except Flip is more protective than ever before and his eyes follow me in every room we’re in together. He brings flowers to my recitals and reads all the books I recommend.

Things I should never, under any circumstances ever do: hope Flip Madden might actually want me too.

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About Helena Hunting: 

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

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CROOKED, a new standalone enemies-to-lovers contemporary romance from New York Times Bestselling Authors, Penelope Ward and Vi Keeland, releases March 29th! Check out this cover!

Title:  Crooked
Authors:  VI KEELAND & PENELOPE WARD
Genre:  STANDALONE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Cover Design:  SOMMER STEIN, PERFECT PEAR CREATIVE
Photographer:  MICHELLE LANCASTER
Model:  ANDREW MURRAY
Release Date:  MARCH 29, 2026

A new, sexy standalone novel from New York Times Bestsellers, Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward…

The last thing I needed was a live-in bodyguard. And I definitely didn’t want him. Six foot two, with broad shoulders that were impossible to ignore and a talent for getting in my way, Wes Callahan was a walking bad decision.

But when you’re the daughter of a notorious mob boss, apparently your opinions stop mattering the moment your father ignites another war. I’d spent my entire life trying to escape that crooked world—new name, new city, newfound freedom. At least until I was suddenly shacked up with my new bodyguard.

Wes knew exactly how to push my buttons. He was also infuriatingly protective. And smart. And funny. And thoughtful when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.  Little by little, the walls I’d built started to crack, and falling for the bodyguard became the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done. Because if my father found out, Wes wouldn’t just lose his job. He’d lose his life.

Getting involved with him was reckless, yet I couldn’t find a way to stop it, no matter how hard I tried.  But while I was busy losing my heart, the man who took it was hiding a secret.

And it turned out, the most dangerous man in my life wasn’t my father after all—it was the one who threatened to break my heart.

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JUST FOR THE CAMERAS, a new enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity, fake dating sports romantic comedy from New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling Author, Meghan Quinn, is available now!

Scroll down for an excerpt!

They’re faking it for the cameras. But what if the sparks are real?

They’re faking it for the cameras. But what if the sparks are real?

Graydon St. John doesn’t do drama―or public appearances. The brooding defensive end for the San Francisco Foghorns prefers silence, solitude, and avoiding headlines. But when a league-wide PR scandal forces him into a media stunt at the city zoo, he’s suddenly face-to-face with squawking birds, nosy fans, and the zookeeper who seems to hate his guts on sight.

Maple Baker loves her flamingos. Loud, pink, messy? Sure. But they’re hers. And the last thing she needs is a grumpy football player stomping into her sanctuary with a bad attitude and a bigger ego. Unfortunately, they’ve been paired for the zoo’s new public outreach program, and the cameras are already rolling.

The banter is sharp. The tension is electric. And the more they pretend to play nice for the press, the more their fake flirtation starts to feel like something dangerously real.

But when family secrets, viral fame, and a PR romance gone off-script threaten everything Maple’s worked for, Graydon must decide if he’s willing to fight for love―or let it slip away to protect her.

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“…this feel-good, steamy romcom was another winner from Quinn!” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads

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EXCERPT:

I stare down at the ground, willing my body to gracefully get into the same position, but every muscle holding my skin and bones together whimpers in pain, begging me to end their
misery and never use them again. From squats to lunges to some weird box jumping thing to more squats to this bench press thing-a-ma-bob to every which way you can move your arm with a weight in it. Nothing was left out of today’s workout.

Nothing.

It’s why when I slowly start to lower, attempting to curtsy down to the ground, my body instead decides to give out on me, seizing in every which way.

Oh no.

Lady down . . . I barely have enough time to pin point where I’m landing before I flop straight on top of the chest of the one and only, Graydon St. John.

“Oof, fuck, what are you doing?” he asks.

Great question.

The only answer that comes to mind is . . .death.

I’m dead.

The fish has flopped and has found the end of their life.

There is nothing left inside me.

There is no shame.

There is no humiliation.

There is no . . . stamina or fucks to give as I lay lifeless on top of Graydon.

Nope, this is where I live now.

This is my new home.

Pull up a potted plant and a picture of a flamingo, because I don’t foresee myself moving in the foreseeable future.

“Hello?” he pokes, trying to get me to answer him.

Mumbling, I say, “I live here now.”

“The fuck you do.”

To my surprise, he lifts me by the shoulders, like I’m one of those wind socks at a car dealership, and flops me to the side, so my head is now right next to his hip.

“Jesus Christ, why aren’t you . . . folding properly?”

I stare up at the fluorescent lights, angels singing to me, pulling me into the heavens where I know I will feel no more pain.

“Is this what death feels like?”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters as he slides away from me, stands and then looks down at me. “Are you serious right now?”

I blink a few times, his dark gaze breaking me away from my attempt to fly into a safe space where I will no longer feel. “I . . .I don’t foresee myself getting up from here. Please tell Phil to find someone worthy enough to look after my pink-feathered friends.”

He rolls his eyes and then bends down and drags me by the legs, straightening me out across the mat. Then he lifts one of my ankles, kneels between my legs, and holds one down while pushing the other up.

“What on earth are you doing?” I ask as his entire body crowds the juncture between my thighs. “I tell you death is knocking on my door, rigor mortis firmly taking hold, and you get
me into a sexual position?”

His brow cocks up. “I’m stretching you so I don’t have to explain to my coach why there’s a woman face planted in our weight room.”

“I am not face planted.”

“You will be in a second.” He switches legs, making me holler in pain as he stretches the muscles that I thought no longer existed inside me.

“Just leave me for dead. Have them scoop me up with a shovel and deposit me in the back of a garbage truck. Please give my pitiful savings to a bench that sits in front of the flamingos. And for the love of God, tell Big Hermy he was my favorite.”

He rolls his eyes once more and then in one fell swoop, he turns me on my stomach and starts stretching my quads.

“Mother of God,” I shout, burying my head into the mat, a mat that is probably infested with things like ringworm and imprinted with sweaty man balls. But it’s my solace right now, my peace, the only thing keeping me from losing all sense of control.

Oh dear sweet mat, please swallow me into your sanctuary where hairy backs and moist ass cracks find solace. 

Graydon spends the next few minutes stretching me out, maneuvering me around like his own personal lump of Play-Doh, and then, when he’s done, he lifts me to my feet and holds
me by the shoulders, keeping me in place until he finds that I’m steady enough to walk on my own.

“You good?”

I sway for a few moments, and when the darkness around my vision recedes, I slowly nod. “I think so.”

He grumbles under his breath and then takes off for the exit, but when I don’t follow him, he stops. “For the love of God, keep up.”

I take one step forward and feel that my leg can handle it, so I take another, and another, and find myself very slowly, walking toward him.

Thatta girl. 

“I told you not to do the fucking workout.”

About Meghan Quinn:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.

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A SIMPLE REQUEST, a new forbidden, workplace small-town romance from USA Today Bestselling Author, Lacey Black, is available now!

My simple request is that he doesn’t break my heart along the way…

Collin

I’m not a fan of change. So, when I hear the old bar I work at a couple of nights a week has sold, I wonder if it’s time for me to give up that side gig. It’s not like I need the cash. My job as a full-time firefighter is more than enough to keep me comfortable and plenty busy.

Then I meet the new owner, my new boss, Lizzie Meyer.

She makes me a deal: give her thirty days. If I don’t like the direction she takes the place, I can quit. Simple, right? But nothing feels simple once I’m around her. I try to ignore the pull, but her easy smile, hypnotic green eyes, and that stubborn streak wrapped in determination makes it impossible. The line between professional and personal is clear…until it isn’t.

Just when something real starts to take shape between us, my past stirs—ready to drag its way back into the light and threaten everything we’re beginning to build together.

Lizzie

I’ve spent years dreaming of a place to call my own. Growing up inside the biggest bar and restaurant in my hometown, I learned early on what my calling was. But lately, I’ve wanted something more. Something that isn’t tied to my family’s legacy. I want to build my own.

That dream leads me to Cooper Town, Ohio, a quaint small town with an old bar for sale and enough possibility to make me pack up my life and take a chance.

I know it will take hard work to bring the place back to life, and I’ve got the drive, the grit, and a modest savings account to get started. What I’m not prepared for is Collin Miller, the brooding bartender with a rare, disarming smile and a work ethic that mirrors my own. He’s impossible to ignore, even harder to resist. I try to keep things strictly professional, really, I do, but being around him feels like standing too close to a flame.

My simple request is that he doesn’t break my heart along the way.

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“…a charming, slow-burn small-town romance…” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads

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About Lacey Black:

USA Today Bestselling Author Lacey Black is a Midwestern girl with a passion for reading, writing, and shopping. She carries her e-reader with her everywhere she goes so she never misses an opportunity to read a few pages. Always looking for a happily ever after, Lacey is passionate about contemporary romance novels and enjoys it further when you mix in a little suspense. She resides in a small town in Illinois with her husband, two children, and three rowdy chickens.

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JUST BREAKING THE RULES, a sexy new single dad, opposites-attract, workplace hockey romance from #1 New York Times Bestselling Author, Lauren Blakely, is out now!

Breaking the rules has never tasted so good…

Breaking the rules has never tasted so good…

How did I end up opening a bakery with my brother’s hockey star best friend?

Start with one cake disaster, add a dangerously hot pro athlete, and mix in a steamy encounter that definitely wasn’t supposed to happen.

But when the sexy, single dad hockey player saves me from a cake contest catastrophe, I do something reckless: ask him to go into business with me.

I’m out of options—no loan, no backup plan—and this bakery is my last chance to prove I’m more than my past mistakes.
Now we’re partners, and we agree that one moment up against the door stays in the past.

Not that Corbin makes it easy.
He sends flowers when I’m down.
Braids my hair before we bake.
Gives me his jersey to wear to games.
Shows up late to test recipes… then stays way too long.

When we find a box of old love letters tucked inside a bakery cupboard, suddenly, our story feels just as risky—and just as impossible to resist.

Maybe some rules are meant to be broken. No matter the cost to our dreams.

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“…irresistibly charming…” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads

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EXCERPT:

In a flash, he dips his brush into the red paint, then darts out a strong arm, wraps it around my waist, and grips me in place. He lifts the brush and brandishes it.

Inches from my face.

My breath catches.

Everything goes silent between us. The Frank Ocean tune finishes. The air crackles. He’s holding me and staring at me, all while threatening me with red paint in a way I want to be threatened, judging from the heat climbing up my legs.

“I have no choice,” he murmurs at last, then he drags the brush along the hollow of my throat.

It’s cool and soft, the paintbrush slick and surprisingly sensuous as he runs it slowly down to my chest, bristles turning a swath of my pale skin red. He stops at the neckline of my shirt.

All thought flees my head. I’m nothing but atoms and vibrating molecules. I can’t even speak. I’m just breathing—and breathing him in.

The scent of paint, delightfully non-toxic, mixes with his aftershave. Or maybe it’s bodywash. I don’t know, but that campfire-by-the-lake scent is not only going to my head, it’s going to my thighs. I squeeze them together, lick my lips, and try to find a word, a phrase—something to tease him with.

But when his brow furrows again, like he’s at war with himself, I stay quiet. His silent debate stretches a few seconds, then he gives in with a raspy, “You have red paint on your chest.”

“Like a candy apple,” I say.

His gaze strays to the canvas of me, his eyes turning darker, glimmering like emeralds. When he raises his face, he drops the brush to the floor. It clatters against the drop cloth, a spray of red splattering on the ground. But I don’t care where, since the sound of the brush falling feels like a before and after. Mine falls from my hand and splatters too.

Slowly, teasingly, Corbin runs his calloused finger across the paint on my body. I pant ludicrously loud. It feels too good.

“Good enough to bite,” he muses as he traces a circle near my breastbone.

“I don’t think the paint would taste good,” I say.

“Probably not, but this would.”

His lips come crashing down on mine, and I grab him, my fingers roping through his messy hair, tugging him close. He kisses me hard, a little ruthlessly, all teeth and heat and need.

My brain is buzzing, my body humming, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m keenly aware there’s a pretty mural inches from us, and I just don’t want to mess it up.

“The mural,” I whisper with concern.

He backs up, away from our work, scanning it to make sure we didn’t smear it. It’s safe. He spins me around and pushes me against the brass pole.

Is that a sign? “Do you want me to strip?” I ask in between hot, wet, deep kisses.

“Don’t tempt me.”

About Lauren Blakely:

A #1 New York Times Bestselling, #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling, and #1 Audible Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s sexy, feel-good and witty. Her books have been featured in US Weekly and People. Lauren likes dogs, cake and show tunes and she is the vegetarian at your dinner party.

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COME WHAT MAY, a forbidden new age-gap, workplace small-town romance from New York Times Bestselling Author, Corinne Michaels, is out now!

Stolen kisses are the least of our worries…

Sleeping with your client is bad, but what I did is even worse.

When I’m sent to Ember Falls to handle a PR nightmare, I have no idea I am creating a crisis of my own. Killian Thorn is everything I know to resist—older, rugged and handsome with mesmerizing green eyes and a wicked smile—which is why instead of running from him, I end up in his bed.

Forced to work together, our stolen kisses are the least of our worries because the scandal on Killian’s ranch continues to grow.

My job is to fix the issue, but our secret is only making it worse.

My best friend convinces me that being with my client isn’t really such a faux pas. In fact, she thinks I should go for it since I’ve always guarded my heart.

Trouble is, neither of us realize we’re talking about her dad.

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“Sizzling hot and emotionally charged…” ~Danielle, Red Cheeks Reads

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EXCERPT:

“How old are you?” I blurt out the first thing I can think of. He said something about getting to know him, so I’m going to choose a basic question that won’t rock the boat.

Safe is my goal for the rest of the night.

Killian’s eyes widen for a second before his deep laugh shakes the bed. “My age? That’s what you want to know, why?”

“I don’t know, I just…we’ve talked about childhood trauma, but I don’t know the basics. Like, how old are you? What’s your birthday? Favorite color? Those are things most people get to learn before they have sex. We skipped all that and have veered into a little bit of a dangerous territory, so let’s go to the safer topics.”

“All right then. I’m forty-four. My birthday is January 27, and blue is my favorite color.”

It’s weird, but knowing that makes this feel a little more normal. “Forty-four, huh?”

I knew he was older, but I thought maybe late thirties.

“I’m afraid to ask your age based on the look on your face.”

“It’s not terrible. I just didn’t guess right. You do not look forty-four.”

His body definitely did not age.

“And what about you? Who is Tessa Rivers?”

I let out a long breath. “I’m twenty-five. My birthday is August 9, and my favorite color is green.” It was orange my entire life, but as I’ve stared into his green eyes over the last three or so weeks, I’ve found a new color I adore.

He chuckles once. “Twenty-five? God. I feel ancient.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is when I have a daughter your age.”

Okay, when he puts it that way, I guess it is that bad.

“I didn’t know you had kids—you said you weren’t married.”

“I’ve never been. I didn’t find out about her until a few years ago,” he explains and pushes my hair behind my ear. “She did one of those online DNA tests online to check for medical conditions and it matched that I was her father.”

That’s exactly how Meredith found out when she did her test a while back.

“Wow, and you never knew about her?”

“No. I met her mom in high school, but she left Colorado and moved to Georgia, not knowing she was pregnant. I had a scholarship to play football in Oregon, so I left right after graduation. She met someone and told him she was pregnant with his kid and he raised her. She had no idea he wasn’t even her dad until she got the results back.”

My brows furrow the more he speaks and my mind spins because his story is too similar to one I know all too well. Meredith is from Georgia, and her mother moved there in high school, but…it couldn’t be.

Right?

There’s no way this can be the same because, surely, the universe wouldn’t hate me this much.

Cautiously, I ask the next question that will put all of this to rest. “When did you learn this?”

“Two years ago, I think. She actually lives not too far from me, which is ironic since neither of us is from Virginia.”

My stomach sinks, and I feel lightheaded. It can’t be. What would the odds be?

Oh God. I might die.

Right now.

My heart might literally give out.

I sit up and put some distance between him and I. “Killian, what’s your daughter’s name?”

Please don’t say Meredith. Please don’t say Meredith.

“Meredith.”

My heart threatens to give out as I leap out of bed, holding a pillow in front of me to cover myself. “Oh my God. Is her last name Scarpello?”

He sits up, his eyes widening. “How do you…?”

I let out the loudest burst of air, and I swear I might start hyperventilating. “Oh my God. Oh my God. This can’t be happening. Meredith Scarpello is your daughter? Meredith, who is married to a guy named Jake, and they live like an hour from here?” I ask, praying that maybe, just maybe, there is a God who doesn’t want me to throw myself off a cliff.

“Yes? Tessa, how do you know this?”

I let out a cry. “We are so fucked! And not the kind of fucking we just did. Oh my God. I’m going to have to tell my best friend that I’ve been sleeping with her dad!”

About Corinne Michaels:

Corinne Michaels is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of romance novels. Her stories are chock full of emotion, humor, and unrelenting love, and she enjoys putting her characters through intense heartbreak before finding a way to heal them through their struggles.

Corinne is a former Navy wife and happily married to the man of her dreams. She began her writing career after spending months away from her husband while he was deployed–reading and writing were her escapes from the loneliness. Corinne now lives in Virginia with her husband and is the emotional, witty, sarcastic, and fun-loving mom of two beautiful children.

Connect with Corinne:

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