SEE ME AFTER CLASS by Meghan Quinn

Release Date: November 12th

Genre: Romantic Comedy

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BLURB:

“Did you have relations with my brother . . .”

Good question.

I’d like to preface this by saying it was never my intention to ever get involved in a workplace romance, let alone get involved with the most surly, agitating, and pompous man I’ve ever met who just so happens to be my new friend’s brother.

My intentions were to show students how English and reading books could actually be fun and make a new life for myself in the suburbs of Chicago.

But so far, I’ve managed to be called into the principal’s office.

Coerced into participating in the teacher’s badminton league.

And instigated into passionate fights with Arlo Turner over education and decorum while losing my underwear at the same time.

Known as Mr. Turns Me On, he’s the reason I might get fired from my first ever teaching job.

PROLOGUE:

**GREER**

“Before we get started, I’ve been told I need to ask you a question.” Stella sits cross-legged in front of me, a nervous look on her face, water in hand.

“Oh?” I ask, trying to act casual as I bring my glass of red wine to my lips. I have a scary inkling what this might be about.

She glances over at Coraline and winces. “Uh, I feel weird asking.”

Oh God . . . I was right.

Shifting, I say, “You know, we don’t have to—”

“Then why bring it up if you’re not going to propose your query?” Keiko asks impatiently while pushing her green-rimmed glasses up on her nose. “You know the frequency of these meetings is dependent upon staying within the comprehensive itinerary I composed during my lunchbreak.”

“Cool your bloomers, Keeks,” Coraline says while taking a large sip from her wine glass. “I want to know what’s making Stella so fidgety.”

The four founding members of the Ladies in Heat Book Club—aka my mismatched collection of friends—each bring diverse and unique character traits to our group.

Keiko “Keeks” Seymour—resident AP chemistry teacher at Forest Heights High School. Her social etiquette is lacking, her intelligence is off the charts, and she’d rather play with beakers than penises. She wasn’t thrilled about the book club name and made a noble attempt to explain why her suggestion, the Austen Empowerment Collaborative, was far more credible. Majority ruled, she lost.

Stella Garcia—Spanish teacher at Forest Heights and my co-coach. Currently single, makes the best tamales I’ve ever had, and is one stamp away from getting a free donut at Frankie Donuts. Can be shy at times, but when it comes to her family and friends, she doesn’t take shit from anyone. Loyal to the core, one of the reasons I adore her.

Coraline “Cora” Turner—recent divorcée and living with her brother, Arlo. Jobless at the moment and couldn’t care less about it since both she and Arlo have enough inheritance to last them a lifetime. Often annoyed by her older brother or annoying him, doesn’t partake in Twitter—says it’s a filthy pool of opinions, and is the first to offer up a bottle of wine.

Then there’s me . . .

Greer Gibson—twenty-four-year-old fresh to the teaching scene as Forest Heights’s new English teacher and women’s volleyball coach. I love running, have a penchant for a man in a cardigan, and can get a little noisy in the classroom while teaching. I currently share a classroom wall with Arlo Turner, Forest Heights most prestigious English teacher, and might have lost my underwear—

“Out with it, Stella,” Cora says, snapping at her.

“Please, so we can proceed,” Keeks says, straightening her notepad on her lap.

Stella looks me in the eyes and says, “Brock wants to know if there’s anything going on between you and Turner. Apparently, Turner won’t say a thing, but Brock thinks there’s some strong sexual tension building.”

Cora whips her head to me, her eyes wide. “Are you getting it on with my brother?”

Finger pointed in the air, Keeks leans in and says, “The proper term amongst company would be coitus.”
Rolling her eyes, Cora asks, “Did you have coitus with my brother?”

“You could also say intercourse if that amuses your jargon more,” Keeks adds. “Or copulating would be sufficient. But if you are inclined toward romantic terminology, since we are in the presence of the book club, you could say lovemaking or performing intimate acts. Although, given the circumstances of when coitus took place—in the work environment—I would deduce that your actions were performed carnally rather than with the interest of developing a devoted accord.”

“Good God, Keeks,” Cora says, irritated. “Who cares what it’s called? We just want to know if it happened.” Cora looks me in the eyes. “Did it?”

Did it . . .

Good question.

I’d like to preface this by saying it was never my intention to ever get involved in a workplace romance when I was hired at Forest Heights, let alone get involved with the most surly, agitating, and pompous man I’ve ever met.

My intentions were to show students how English and reading books could actually be fun, bring the volleyball team to a state championship, and make a new life for myself in the suburbs of Chicago.

But so far, I’ve managed to be called into the principal’s office.

Infiltrate the teachers’ athletic league.

And had passionate fights with Arlo Turner over education, decorum, and student-teacher friendships.
Not to mention I’ve lost my panties to him in my dreams more than I care to admit.

Why did this all happen?

Simple.

The man dresses in a cardigan, that’s how.

Arlo Turner. The bane of my existence, annoyance to my sanity, and the only man who’s ever made me want to spread my legs in a classroom.

He’s torn down my metaphorical walls, strapped on a cottony cardigan—pushed up the sleeves—and has driven me to the brink of insanity, so now whenever I hear the mention of his name, my legs automatically spread, and my heartrate picks up.

Known as Mr. Turns Me On, he’s the reason my star athlete is struggling to keep her grades up.

He’s the reason I tend to avoid the teacher breakroom.

And he’s the reason I might get fired from my first ever teaching job.

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

About the Author:

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.

Connect with Meghan:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/meghanquinnauthor

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Website: http://authormeghanquinn.com

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🎄🎄 HOT NEW RELEASE 🎄🎄

Just One Kiss from USA Today bestselling author J. Saman is LIVE!

Don’t miss this fun and steamy, second chance holiday romance!

#One-click today!

BOOK BLURB

The heart wants what it wants and mine has never stopped wanting her.

London Canterbury and I were never meant to be.

Her family was rich. She was cheer captain. The most popular girl in our school while I was the opposite. Poor, nerdy, and invisible.

Eight years ago, I kissed the hell out of her, knowing I was never going to see her again.

Or so I thought.

Because here I am, rescuing none other than London who crashed her car into a tree in the middle of a blizzard.

Right before Christmas.

Now she’s stuck in my house. In my head. Back in my heart before I ever have a chance to stop it.

As the storm intensifies outside so does the fire between us.

Despite all that, I know this is too good to last. That eventually, the storm will end, and she’ll leave.

But losing her is no longer an option.

I’m hoping that sometimes all it takes to fall in love is just one kiss…

GOODREADS LINK: https://bit.ly/33ef4C2

#PURCHASE on Amazon

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GIVEAWAY

To celebrate the release of JUST ONE KISS, J. Saman giveaway for you!

Stop by her Facebook page to enter: www.facebook.com/jsamanbooks

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

Absolutely charming! This second chance Christmas romance will melt your heart!

While on her way to Vermont to spend Christmas with her family, London gets into an accident during a snowstorm. Her rescuer turns out to be Miles — the shy loner she was friends with as a teenager who kissed her at a high school graduation party and then completely disappeared. She’s never gotten over that kiss, and as it turns out, neither has Miles. That kiss got him through some incredibly lonely times, and he’s been in love with her for years.

After never expecting to see London’s lavender eyes ever again, Miles can’t believe he has her all to himself in his cabin. Back in high school, she was the popular rich girl, and he was the foster kid from the wrong side of the tracks. He never thought he was good enough for London back then, and even though he’s made something of himself as an adult, he still doesn’t think he’s deserving of her now. Add to that his insecurities of having been deserted by everyone in his life, and Miles is afraid to wish for something more now that he has London back in his arms. Will he get over his fears or risk losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him for a second time?

Just One Kiss is an absolutely charming tale of second chances and the one that got away! I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. Saman is a USA Today bestselling author who is addicted to Diet Coke, sour candy, and indie rock. She swears way too much (especially after a glass of wine) and has a penchant for sarcasm (or so her husband and children like to tell her).

She’s an admitted lover of second chance romances, love triangles, and the perfect amount of angst. She is best known for writing contemporary romance filled with smart, strong women, and sexy alphas who have a softer side – especially for their women.

AUTHOR LINKS

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NOT MY HERO by Michelle Heard
Release Date: November 9th

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Blurb:
He walked into school on his first day and didn’t care what the other students thought of him.

Dark. Broody. Dangerous.

He didn’t care where I cared too much.
Then the rumors started.
He failed his senior year at his previous school. His brother committed suicide. It’s his fault.

And for one blessed week, I wasn’t the topic of discussion.

You see, I’m the daughter of a socialite who has no soul. I’m the one paying for her sins. They never let me forget where I come from, and she never stops telling me what a failure I am.

But then Colton Lawson looks at me, and unlike the other student’s, his dark gaze seems to see through the lies spun around me.

He starts appearing out of nowhere, fighting my battles for me only to stalk away, making me feel like I’m nothing but a nuisance.

My name is Brie Weinstock, and this is my story of how a boy walked into my hell and fought for me, even though I never expected him to.

The question is, am I strong enough to repay the favor?

This is a high school romance that deals with sensitive subjects. Adult readers only.

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 4 Stars

Not My Hero is not what I was expecting. This was a wonderful, emotional, hard at times to read YA romance. It definitely deals with darker themes, as both Colton and Brie are both victims of child abuse by a parent. But these two kindred spirits, lost souls, find one another and the healing that they provide to one another is heartwarming. The story itself isn’t a romance between bully and victim, but Brie is most definitely the victim of bullying at school as well as at home.

Colton is such an anti-hero, and rumors abound about his past history and family life as he starts a new high school to repeat his senior year. But when he sees Brie, he is immediately captivated by the quiet beauty. And as he stumbles upon her family secret, one that hits too close to his own home, he vows to protect her the way he could not protect his late brother. As they get to know one another, Colton turns out to just be the most patient and kind guy, sweet and caring, and knows exactly how to handle Brie as she tries to deal with her mother’s horrific assault. (Seriously, her mom is certifiably vile.)

I love the makeshift family that Colton, Brie and his mom make together. Not only does Colton help Brie, but Brie helps bring Cassie out of the dark depression she’s been in ever since Colton’s brother committed suicide. The three of them truly help heal one another, and I loved the way Cassie stood up to her estranged husband by the end of the book.

Michelle Heard is a new-to-me author, but both Brie and Colton are apparently related to characters from other books. I read this book in a day; it was a dark read, definitely not happy-go-lucky, but I was completely captivated by Colton and Brie’s story. As far as steam goes, there is one bedroom scene where there is *some* action, but there are no graphic sexual details. Compared to some other YA books, Not My Hero is a relatively “clean” story. It is also a standalone within the Black Mountain Academy series, which is a collaboration between several authors. Most of the side characters will have books of their own within that series, and there are definitely a few of them that I want to know more about!

I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

About the Author:
Michelle Heard is a Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling Author who loves creating stories her readers can get lost in. She resides in South Africa with her son where she’s always planning her next book to write, and trip to take.

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• Cover Designed by Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations

• Blurb

Colleen Callahan is exactly where she’s always dreamt of being.

From a young age, she’s been groomed to take over as general manager of the Packton Pistons, her family’s professional baseball dynasty. Except she never expected her father would have to go to prison for the role to become hers.

The public, and even her own family, are counting on the first female to wear the title to fail. Hoping to wipe the slate clean and clear the club’s name, Colleen vows to put her job above everything else. Friends, a social life, her well-being, and most of all, love.

Until she meets the team’s new star player. Their chemistry is instant, igniting the stadium and her heart. But the last thing she needs is a distraction, much less a surly God of the clay diamond who seems to despise her.

Fate has other plans, though. If they’re found out, it could mean the end of both of their careers. Except hurtling so close to the danger zone has never felt more right.

Hayes Swindell would prefer hell over the place he ended up.

After a series of bribes and blackmail gone bad, the league’s most desirable veteran superstar finds himself playing on a team that he wants no part of. The family who runs this dynasty is corrupt, and he’s spent his career avoiding limelight exactly like this.

With a chip on his shoulder and the intention to hightail it out of Pennsylvania as soon as his one-year contract is up, he has no plans to fall for the very woman he should stay away from.

In his ten years in the league, he’s never once gotten bit by the love bug. But the moment he lays eyes on her, Hayes can see his days are numbered. When the forbidden happens, he has a decision to make.

Should they head for disaster together, risking it all, or course-correct and save themselves the ultimate price of heartbreak and scandal?

One-click now: mybook.to/WarningTrack

• Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

Oh wow, did Carrie Aarons start off a fabulous new series with Warning Track or what?

In the wake of her father’s arrest, Colleen is trying to make the most out of an awful situation while keeping her head high as the GM of a baseball team that has been shocked by a public scandal. Hayes is one of the players affected by her father’s corrupt values and blackmail schemes, and he wants nothing more than to play the season he’s contracted for and then get the hell out of there.

So of course, Hayes and Colleen will fall in love. And I fell in love with them! There’s an immediate connection between Hayes and Colleen, even though he hates her at first just because she’s a Callahan. But as they get to reluctantly know one another, Hayes learns that Colleen is nothing like her father; she’s hardworking and dedicated and loyal and protective…. As is he. But when a public scandal threatens to blow up the relationship they’ve been trying to keep private and protect, will their hearts survive the public scandal?

Colleen and Hayes are wonderful characters. He’s so dedicated and focused on his career, and his feelings for Colleen kind of sneak up on him. Likewise, she’s incredibly focused on her career because she has much to prove, and she doesn’t want to be involved with one of her ballplayers. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and Hayes and Colleen soon learn that you can’t help who you fall in love with. You can only do what is best for your heart and your future, and that is the crossroads that Hayes and Colleen find themselves trying to navigate. And they do it beautifully, with such heartfelt emotion and trust and love.

As a series starter, Warning Track sets up the groundwork for so many Callahans to be featured in future books, and I can’t wait! But I am really, really hoping that I don’t have to wait long for Walker and Hannah’s story. Because that just has gold written all over it!

I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

• Author Bio

Author of romance novels such as The Tenth Girl and Privileged, Carrie Aarons writes books that are just as swoon-worthy as they are sarcastic. A former journalist, she prefers the love stories of her imagination, and the athleisure dress code, much better.

​

When she isn’t writing, Carrie is busy binging reality TV, having a love/hate relationship with cardio, and trying not to burn dinner. She’s a Jersey girl living in Texas with her husband, daughter, son and Great Dane/Lab rescue.

Author Links

Visit Carrie’s website: authorcarrieaarons.com
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One year, 365 days—and then one knock at my door changes everything.

The Cabin, an all-new beautifully written, emotion filled romance from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is available now!

One year ago, I buried my husband. 

One year ago, I held his hand and said goodbye. 

Now I spend most of my days lost somewhere between trying to remember every smallest detail of our lives, and trying to forget it all. I fill my hours with work until I’m too exhausted to remember him, to feel anything at all. 

One year, 365 days—and then one knock at my door changes everything. A letter from him, a last request, a secret will: 

My dearest Nadia,

Trust me, my love. One last time, trust me. Sometimes the epilogue to one story is the beginning of another.

Download your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited! 
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Enter to win an Exclusive Cabin Recovery Kit!  Join Jasinda’s Reader Group during release week and enter the big Giveaway pinned at the top of the group →  https://bit.ly/35pQlKR 

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 Stars

It’s been a few days since I finished The Cabin, and I still can’t form coherent enough thoughts about how FANTASTIC this emotional, raw, remarkable, heart-wrenching story is. Nadia’s tale is one of devotion and loyalty, sickness and health, death and grief, love and loss, fear of forgetting, fear of moving forward, and finally, finally, finding love again when you thought you were too broken and lonely to ever be loved again.

I don’t want to say anything else about this book, because you should go in reading it only knowing what is said in the blurb.

“Sometimes the epilogue to one story is the beginning to another.”

Wow, that tag line so perfectly sums up The Cabin. This is the kind of story that had me reading until the wee hours of the morning and then sneaking in a few more chapters on my Kindle app while cooking dinner the next day. I could not put it down. And for all of the tears I cried throughout this story, it has the most wonderful HEA.

I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

Excerpt

1: NDA

  “All right, Mr. Bell. You’re all set here, I think.”

The nurse is that peculiar, unique brand of brusque efficiency and Zen-like kindness you only find in an oncology department. She fiddles with the IV line puncturing my left arm, the off-white, veiny medical tape securing it to my forearm. Her eyes are brown, the exact shade of a chocolate Labrador’s fur. She is warm, and caring, but lurking beneath that veneer of caregiver kindness is the detached iciness of someone whose job it is to watch people die.

“It will take a couple hours for this to drip through, and then we have to monitor you for—”

“I know,” I interrupt. I open the lid of my laptop. “I’ve been through this a few times.”

She smiles. “Of course, Mr. Bell. If you need anything, just press the call button.”

I hesitate a few seconds and then say, “There is something.” Then I glance at the curtain which is not quite pulled shut.

She catches my meaning and brings the two ends of the curtain together, the metal rings rasping with a rattling ring. “What can I do for you, Mr. Bell?”

I reach into my messenger bag, sitting on the floor next to this monstrosity of a chair—a freakish, Frankensteinian thing, not quite a lounger and not quite a clinical, medical device, but something in between. It’s made from a rubbery plastic or vinyl material that squeaks at every slight movement, and is too hard and too upright to be truly comfortable, but when you kick back in it and lift the footrest, it forces you into a near-horizontal recline in an unnatural defiance of gravity.

The chair is distracting, and I hate the chair almost as much as I hate the ward, the IV, and the whole damned morbid circus.

In my bag is a thin manila folder. On the label I’ve written three letters in neat block handwriting, in black Sharpie: NDA. I withdraw a single sheet of paper, on which are two and a half paragraphs, single-spaced. It’s in tight, clear legalese, drawn up by my attorney, printed on formal, intimidating letterhead. I hand it to the nurse whose nametag, clipped to her pale green sleeve, announces her as Tiffany Snell, R.N, O.C.N.

“This is an NDA, a nondisclosure agreement.”

She allows a frown, briefly. “Okay?”

I keep my voice low, not whispering, but pitched for her ears only. “I’m here alone, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Yes. Which is why your observation period has to be so long.”

“I know.”

I reach into my bag and pull out a pen—it’s a nice pen, hefty, metal, with a satisfying clicker, and on the side is my name: Adrian Bell, and my logo, a coat of arms with my monogram. It’s recognizable to most people, that logo; you see it on the title page of my books, on my website, and expensively animated as a production company logo during the title sequences when you watch movies made from my books. I hand her the pen, tap the NDA with it.

“This says you will not disclose to anyone that I was here at all, let alone why. I’m paying for this with cash, so there’s no insurance paperwork trail.”

She frowns again as she reads. “Why is it a secret, may I ask?”

“I have my reasons,” I say. “Whatever else must be done in the process of this infusion, I would like you to do, including observation and my eventual discharge. All right? This means that just one person has to sign this little item.” I tap the NDA again.

“And if I don’t sign it?” It’s not meant belligerently, just…a simple question.

I smile. “Tiffany—Miss Snell. Do I really need to spell this out? You know who I am. I don’t want this getting out. That’s all. I’m protecting my privacy.”

She breathes out gently—it’s not a sigh, more of a thoughtful breath. “What about your wife? Why isn’t she here?”

It takes all I have to not wince at the question. “I’m going to have to decline to answer that, Miss Snell. Can you please just sign? It just means you don’t tell anyone I was here. If coworkers ask, you simply say you can’t talk about it. Don’t make a big deal about it, just that—I can’t talk about it. That’s all.” I pause, smile again. “Would it help you to know I’m a yearly donor to this facility?”

She rolls a shoulder. “Not really. I’m just a nurse.” Another of those thoughtful out-breaths. “Mr. Bell, I’ll sign your NDA. But I have to register my thoughts with you. Hiding this is not fair.” Her warm brown eyes momentarily reveal the sadness she normally keeps hidden. “I’ve seen your file, obviously. What you’re dealing with, it’s…it’s not…”

“It doesn’t have a stellar survival rate,” I finish. “I know.”

“Hiding it from your wife, Mr. Bell—”

“Adrian.”

“It’s really, really not fair of you, Adrian. You’re not doing her any favors. I obviously don’t know a thing about your marriage, but if she loves you—”

I let out a shaky breath, cut her off. “She does, Tiffany. More than I deserve. More than…More than is, perhaps, healthy.”

“So why—”

“I have my reasons,” I say again. Now I do not smile. I frown in a way that says this conversation has to be over. “It’s not fair of me, I know. Believe me, I know. But it’s not fair that I have this. That I’m here. It’s not fair that I’m paying as much for this treatment as I am. What in your life can you list as unfair, Tiffany? A lot, I’m sure. Fair is a myth. Fair does not exist.”

She gazes at me evenly, steadily and then takes the pen from me. Signs the NDA in a nurse’s hasty scrawl. Dates it. Hands me the pen.

“Keep it.”

She lets a small smile cross her lips. “I’ve read all your books, you know. I enjoy them. They make me feel like I can believe in love again.” She gestures with the pen. “Thank you.”

“If you happen to have a copy with you, I’ll sign it for you.”

She bites a lip. “I do, actually.”

“Bring it when you come to check on me.”

She nods, hooks the pen by the clip at an angle in the V of her scrub top. Smiles at me again, and leaves.

You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, my mother used to tell me.

I enter the passcode on my laptop; there’s Wi-Fi here, so I could check email, but I don’t. In fact, I turn Wi-Fi off, so I won’t be distracted by the siren song of email, pull my wireless earbuds from my bag, and turn on Rostropovich via my phone.

I open my manuscript. Close my eyes, take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out slowly. Repeat four times. Pushing away, mentally, the fog of the chemo, the pinch of the IV, the continual beeping of IV machines indicating a bag is finished, the occasional static PA announcements, the squeak of sensible sneakers, and the murmur of quiet conversations.

Push it all away. Find my flow.

It’s there, under the surface. It’s always there; it’s always been there. Like Louis L’Amour said, I could sit in the middle of Sunset Boulevard with a typewriter on my knees, and once I’m in the flow, I wouldn’t notice a thing but the words on the page.

With this story I’m working on now, though, it’s harder, and it takes more effort to sink down into it, more mental gymnastics to get into the flow. I need to find the right balance, tap into the necessary emotions, while still remaining the objective storyteller.

This one is personal. More than all the other books I’ve written over my career, this one…this one requires more of me.

And I have to get it right.

I’m writing it for an audience of one. Well, two. But really, just one. Her.

My love. My Nadia.

Meet Jasinda

NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, WALL STREET JOURNAL and international bestselling author Jasinda Wilder is a Michigan native with a penchant for titillating tales about sexy men and strong women. Her bestselling titles include ALPHA, STRIPPED, WOUNDED, and the #1 Amazon and international bestseller FALLING INTO YOU. You can find her on her farm in Northern Michigan with her husband, author Jack Wilder, her six children and menagerie of animals.

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Forget About Me, an all-new retro romantic comedy guaranteed to bring all the feels from Karen Grey is available now!

Ben Porter may be living the dream, but it’s not his.

His dad’s health scare might not be the ideal reason to come home for the summer, but it’s a welcome break from the stellar glitz of Ben’s life in Los Angeles. Even if modeling has him rivaling Marky Mark’s fame, posing isn’t his passion. Landing a role with a Boston Shakespeare theater brings him closer to fulfilling his dreams of being a real actor.

Facing the reason he went west in the first place? That’s another story.

Lucy Minola’s dreams were shattered seven years ago when a drunk driver smashed into her brother’s car. She knows it was her fault. So as penance, she works hard to care for her family, goes to confession faithfully, and buries all the feelings she had for the person who left when she needed him most: her brother’s best friend.

When an injured dog brings them back together, Lucy’s good-girl facade begins to crack. Women everywhere are obsessed with the rad body they see in magazines, but she’s the only one Ben seems to notice.

She can’t trust herself with the man who walked away… but can she let him go a second time?

This bittersweet romance, book two in Karen Grey’s 1980’s Boston Classics series, proves that everyone deserves a second chance in love and in life.

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Sunny Shelly’s Review: 4 Radical Stars

Forget About Me was such a fun walk down memory lane! It is a standalone in a series, and truly reads as such. But I’d love to go back and read the previous book because I’m sure it’s full of just as much 80s goodness!

It’s been a few years since exes Ben and Lucy were torn apart after her brother’s death in a car crash. Both Ben and Lucy have some guilt about that night, and rather than stick around, Ben took off and Lucy was left behind. Now, Ben has come home, and when a stray dog reunites them, will Lucy give Ben a second chance or be the one to walk away this time?

This story was so fun! I loved, loved, loved that it was set in the 80s. The references to all things 80s made me smile as much as the witty banter between Ben and Lucy made me laugh.

There are flashbacks aplenty to Ben and Lucy’s past, as well as their relationships with her brother Tony. And those scenes are perfectly woven together with the fabric of the present-day happenings. (Well, the 80s present day happenings!)

Forget About Me is the first book I’ve read by Karen Grey, and I quite enjoyed it! It is lighthearted and fun, and hits all the marks for a quality second-chance romance. I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

Excerpt

“Good Girls Don’t” – The Knack
Lucy’s Copacetic Shagadelic Mixtape, Song #6

LUCY

Saturday morning, it’s hot and sticky for August. By the time I get to church, every crease of my dress is damp and my stocking-encased legs feel like sausages, so the cool and dark of the confessional is welcome. I kneel and make the sign of the cross just as the screen slides open and Father Signorelli says the usual greeting—in Latin, even though he’s supposed to have switched to the post-Vatican II form. I’m glad our church still does things the traditional way. When I went to the Newman Center the few months I was at UMass, getting general absolution didn’t feel like enough, but the alternative they offered—sitting face to face to confess to a priest—was too embarrassing.
I dab my brow with a tissue before beginning. “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been two weeks since my last confession. These are my sins. I snapped at a coworker because she asked me some irritating questions, and I yelled at my brothers for leaving their dishes in the sink. I have been uncharitable toward an old, um… friend because I’m still angry at him for things he did a long time ago. I talked him into buying things he didn’t need to because… because I wanted him to suffer.”
“Hmm. Those are unbecoming behaviors in a young woman.”
“Yes, Father. For these and any other sins that I cannot remember, I humbly ask pardon of God and penance and absolution of thee, Father.”
“Do your rosary and say five Our Fathers for your penance.”
I bow my head, say the Act of Contrition and do my best to focus as Father prays for my forgiveness.
When I step out of the box and into the incense-laden air, the weight of my sins doesn’t lift from my shoulders like it usually does, probably because I neglected to confess the many, many lustful thoughts that’ve set up camp in my nether regions.
I guess you could argue that I’m preventing harm by omitting those sins because if Father Signorelli heard what I’ve been up to alone in my bed at night, he’d surely have a stroke.

When I return from my lunch break on Monday, I’m greeted by Cindy in full-on puppy mode.
“Oh my god, that Ben Porter left you a message, Lucy!”
Stowing my purse in my locker, I spend more time than necessary changing back into my scrub top. I spent the break running errands—picking up a prescription for my dad and stocking up on toiletries for the family while I was at the pharmacy. I might’ve also picked up a few magazines which might just happen to contain a few revealing photos of Ben. It isn’t a sin to just look, right?
When I close my locker door, Cindy’s right there on the other side. “Isn’t that exciting?”
“Yes?” A balloon of hope floats up. I haul it back down to earth. No need to get all excited. He probably just has another question about the dog. I scan the corkboard where notes are usually pinned up. “Where’s the message?”
She finally stops bouncing up and down. “He didn’t call. He came in while you were out and I got to talk to him.” She whispers this like it’s the most exciting thing to have happened in weeks. Maybe it is. Although watching a dog yak up an entire package of tube socks last week was pretty entertaining.
“Oh. Okay.” I keep my tone cool, with some effort. “What was the message?”
“He asked me to ask you if you’d train his dog so it can be in a play! I wish I knew about animal training! How did you learn?” She grabs my forearm. “Do you need an assistant?”
Not sure where to start, I just nod. And then shake my head no. By the time my head’s circling, I realize something. “Did he leave a number?”
Cindy narrows her eyes. “Don’t you have his number?”
I don’t want to think about all this right now, so I exit the breakroom. “I guess I can get it from his chart if it’s not the same.”
She’s at my heels, nipping away with her questions. “Same what?”
“Um. Same everything. Number, house. Because he’s like… famous now?”
“Are you sure you really grew up with him?”
“Yep. I’m sure I did.”
Her smooth brow crinkles. “No offense, but you seem a lot older than him.”
“He’s three years older than me, Cindy.”
“So, he’s like mid-thirties?”
I stifle a sigh. Cindy’s only eighteen, so everyone is old to her. “Just FYI, Cindy, I’m twenty-five.”
“Not even! I thought you were way older than that.”
My brows go up as I stare her down.
“I mean, like, in a good way. Like you majorly have your shit together.”
“Uh-huh.”
Three bells sound, indicating that an owner is in for a pickup. I’ll take any excuse to escape from the interrogation, so I press the button indicating that I’ll grab the post-surgical cat. “I’m not sure I’ll have time, anyway.”
She follows me. “But you were saying you were trying to save money for that certification course. If he’s a rich model, charge him extra.”
She’s driving me crazy, but she has a point. How much money would it be worth to risk further stirring up the grief I thought I’d buried years ago?
Opening the cage to ease out a still groggy but now stitched-up and gonad-free cat, I whisper, “Hey, buddy, time to go home.”
Cindy, still at my elbow, closes the cage. “When was the last time you saw him anyway? I mean, before now.”
“Seven years ago.” Until last week, the last time I saw him was at my brother’s wake. But she doesn’t need to know that. “Things… ended badly.”
Talk about understatement of the year.
“Seven years! Lucy, jeez. Seven years ago, I was in elementary school! That’s forever ago. Forgive and forget already.” A single bell sounds, letting us know that a new client needs to be moved to an exam room. “Do you still want the cat discharge, or whatever’s behind door number one?”
I hand over the cat. “I’ll take the new patient.” I don’t have any ex-boyfriends left to surprise me, so I walk briskly to the waiting room, eager for a distraction. Whether it’s an engorged tick to be removed or a puppy needing its shots or a busted-up tomcat, taking care of an animal is always preferable to listening to my inner monologue.
Deciding what to do about Ben will have to wait.

Meet Karen

Karen Grey (also known as Karen White and K.E. White) has had several essays published, in Salt Magazine and the Nevertheless We Persisted collections (one an Audies Finalist and the other a SOVAs finalist), and a short story in the collection Vintage Love Stories. Her first romance novel was a winner of the NJ Romance Writers’ Put Your Heart in a Book contest and Hearts Through History’s Romance Through the Ages contest in the Modern History category and won second place in the GA Romance Writers’ Maggie Award. The first book in her 1980’s era romance series Boston Classics, What I’m Looking For releases June 23, 2020.

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