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Is Jack my real Romeo…or will this gorgeous football player only break my heart?

Not My Romeo, the all-new swoon-worthy contemporary sports romance with heart and heat from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills is available now!

We start off with a lie on Valentine’s Day.

My blind date isn’t the studious guy I expected: he’s a drop-dead gorgeous player with sinful amber eyes. Somehow we end up at his penthouse. I blame the gin and tonic.

The next day I learn he’s Jack Hawke—bad-boy professional quarterback with a murky past. The NDA he has me sign should be a warning that he isn’t a regular person. Please. I sign it Juliet Capulet, so goodbye, famous football player with abs of steel, and good luck tracking down this small-town librarian.

But Jack keeps showing up in places I least expect him. Just when I’m sure he’s gone, he waltzes into my community theater and wins the part of Romeo to my Juliet. How’s a plain, mostly innocent girl like me supposed to resist a man like him?

Is Jack my real Romeo…or will this gorgeous football player only break my heart?

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Excerpt:

I pull my white cat-eye glasses out of my purse and slide them on for a better look. My heart flip-flops as butterflies take flight in my stomach. Oh heck no. That can’t be him. He’s . . . he’s . . . freaking gorgeous, and I don’t mean regular handsome but like a movie star: dark hair swept off his face, the strands wavy and unruly with copper highlights, soft and silky brushing against his cheeks, and too long for a newscaster, in my opinion—but what do I know? I don’t own a television.

He lifts his arm to shove his hair back, and my eyes pop at the tightly roped muscles of his forearm and biceps straining through the fabric, the impossibly broad shoulders.

Well, would you look at that.

And this has to be him, right?

I’m in the right restaurant. He’s alone. He’s wearing a blue shirt. He has dark hair. Odds point to yes. Usually the most simple explanation is exactly what it appears. Therefore, he must be my date.

The man in question turns to look out the window, tapping his fingers on the table impatiently, and I take in his profile. Long straight nose, full dark arching eyebrows, and a sharp, bladed jawline. Sensuous lips, the lower one decadently full. Almost wicked. He’s the kind of hot that draws your eyes over and over just to make sure it’s not a mirage. I knew guys like him at NYU—sexy, athletic gym types who played a sport. And those types never gave me a second look. I’d watch them work out while I fumbled my way around one of those god-awful butterfly machines, while beautiful, tall, svelte girls who weren’t sweating fawned over them, bringing them towels, water bottles, and sexy promises.

He takes a sip of an amber liquid, long tanned fingers grasping the fragile container as his eyes rove across the room. They prowl around the restaurant, as if he’s assessing every person in sight, and I feel the sizzle of him even from twenty feet away. Prickles of awareness skate down my spine. I’m the alpha, his body language yells. Come and challenge me.

His gaze drifts right over me without stopping.

Not surprised.

I duck back into the shadows.

Dang it. My hands clench. I wanted nice and nerdy, not this . . . sexy beast!

And judging by the scowl on his face, he’s grumpy. Life’s too short to be dour, Mister. And what is he annoyed about? I am here!

And he did see a picture of me. Topher said so.

Yeah, maybe he doesn’t really want to meet you.

Maybe he’s hoping you won’t show up.

I tap my foot. I should leave. Really.

The smells of Milano’s waft around me, spicy and tantalizing, and my stomach lets out an angry howl. I move from one foot to the next. Every place to eat between here and Daisy is going to be packed. I could always hit a drive-through on the way back home—but how pathetic is a Big Mac and fries on Valentine’s Day? Plus, I’ll have my entire nosy family to answer to tomorrow. They’ve built up this blind date so much: Oooooh, Elena has a date with a weatherman. Ask him if that’s a barometer in his pocket or if he’s just glad to see you.

I give myself a mental pep talk.

Grow some balls, Elena.

Sometimes you have to go out and take what you want.

So what if he’s hot enough to suck the dew off a rose.

You are hungry. Do it for the pasta.

He is your date. Go get ’em, girl.

I gather my resolve, point my little black pumps in his direction, and start marching.

About Ilsa Madden-Mills

Wall Street Journal, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies.

Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top 10 Best-seller List: Dirty English #1; Fake Fiancée and I Dare You #2; I Bet You, Filthy English, and Very Bad Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4.

A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice, and of course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero.

She’s addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets, and any book featuring unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk her online.

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An all new and endearing friends-to-lovers story…

The One for Me by New York Times bestselling author Corinne Michaels is now live!

Devney Maxwell has been my best friend since we were six years old, but she has no idea I’m in love with her.


Even when I’m on the road playing professional baseball, she’s my home–the only one I’ve ever known. But when I return to Sugarloaf to care for the family farm, I discover she’s trying to talk herself into a life with the wrong man … and I become desperate.

It only takes a single, perfect kiss to change everything.

I have six months to get it right with Devney–to convince her to leave this town and turn that kiss into forever.

I aim to do just that as I spend my days coaching her nephew’s baseball team, fixing up the farm, and loving her with all I have. Finally, it seems like our relationship is secure and we’ll find a way to make it work.

Then tragedy strikes … changing her life forever. She’s needed here more than ever, but as for me–there’s no way I can stay.

I know she’s the one for me, but I might have to let her go …

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Excerpt:

“Don’t play that crap with me, Sean Arrowood. I know you better. You want the wife and kids. You always have. The issue that you have is that you’re stupid.”

“Stupid?”

She nods. “Yup. S-T-U-P-I-D. And dumb.”

“They mean the same thing.”

“It required the extra punctuation at the end.”

God, I love the side of her that is smart-mouthed, fearless, and relaxed. She’s only this way with me. Or at least, that’s what I’d like to think.

The last ten years have been hard on our friendship. We both went off to college, I had baseball and she was studying. We’d see each other on breaks, but after the accident that changed the trajectory of my life, I stayed in Maine, and we rarely saw each other.

However, when I had a series in New York, Devney came. If I was in Philly, she would find a way to meet me, and I flew her down to Tampa a few times.

Now, though, I’ll be around her so much more, and I know these feelings aren’t going to go away, they’ll get stronger.

Yeah, I guess I really am stupid.

“Well, I may be stupid, but at least I’m not settling.”

She sits up, slapping her hand on the couch cushion. “Settling?”

“Yeah. You may love Oliver, but he doesn’t make you crazy.”

Devney shifts back. “You’re making me crazy right now.”

“Good.”

“You’re infuriating!”

I shrug. “You love me.”

“It helps that you’re hot.” Devney quickly covers her hand over her mouth. “I did not mean it that like that.”

I grin and lean toward her. “You think I’m hot?”

“I think you’re mediocre. God knows your harem of . . . whatever you call them . . . think you are.”

For so long I’ve fought against telling her anything about how I feel. How those women are faceless and mean nothing to me. It’s always her. Always a brunette who I seek out, hoping to find just a piece of something like her that I can cling to, but I never say it.

Then I wonder, maybe this is the perfect time. Oliver is going to propose. Oliver will marry her, and I won’t have a god damn thing to say about it because I will have never told her.

Plus, she’s drunk.

Maybe she won’t remember it.

“Maybe so, but I’m not asking them. Plus, all the girls I’m attracted to look like you.”

Devney laughs while shaking her head. “Well, it has to be tough kissing your best friend, right?”

And in that moment, I know what I’m going to do. It doesn’t matter that it’s stupid or wrong. I no longer care about her boyfriend or how this moment will undoubtedly change everything between us because she will marry him when he asks. Devney won’t falter. She’ll cling to the safe, and I am not that, but I love her.

I lean closer and her eyes study my movement. With a trembling hand, I cup her face and brush my thumb against her soft skin. Everything freezes around us as I feel the warmth emanating from her. Our breaths mingle as the distance closes. “I don’t know, but I’d like to see if it’s tough to kiss you.”

I wait, giving her one last chance to push me away, but instead, her tongue moves against her pink lips, which is all the invitation I need.

I lean in, my lips touch hers, and I know my life hasn’t just changed, it’s been completely upended.

Meet Corinne

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

Website: http://corinnemichaels.com

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