Happy Publication Day to The Jinn Daughter, a gorgeous debut novel from Rania Hanna! From the blurb: A stunning debut novel and an impressive feat of storytelling that pulls together mythology, magic, and ancient legend in the gripping story of a mother’s struggle to save her only daughter Nadine is a jinn tasked with one job: telling the stories of the dead. She rises every morning to gather pomegranate seeds—the souls of the dead—that have fallen during the night. With her daughter Layala at her side, she eats the seeds and tells their stories. Only then can the departed pass through the final gate of death. But when the seeds stop falling, Nadine knows something is terribly wrong. All her worst fears are confirmed when she is visited by Kamuna, Death herself and ruler of the underworld, who reveals her desire for someone to replace her: it is Layala she wants. Nadine will do whatever it takes to keep her daughter safe, but Kamuna has little patience and a ruthless drive to get what she has come for. Layala’s fate, meanwhile, hangs in the balance. Rooted in Middle Eastern mythology, Rania Hanna deftly weaves subtle, yet breathtaking, magic through this vivid and compelling story that has at its heart the universal human desire to, somehow, outmaneuver death. Publisher: Hoopoe Fiction Publication date: April 16, 2024 ISBN 9781649033635, 164903363X Genre: Fantasy 275 pages Purchase Link Quotes and Reviews: "Hanna seamlessly weaves compelling and complex characters into a lush tapestry of Middle Eastern folklore, creating a tragic, haunting world that is as dark as it is beautiful." --Samantha Sotto Yambao, author of Before Ever After “Rania Hanna’s debut is a moving tale of mothers and daughters, magic and mysticism, love and death. The Jinn Daughter offers fresh storytelling, rich characters and food for thought."--Ms. Magazine “Subtle but breathtaking.” --Geek Girl Authority "Enchanting . . . spellbinding . . . readers will feel like they have stumbled upon an ancient text of legends and wisdom. . . .The fairytale-like and bizarre scenes elevate the story's mystique and are reminiscent of a mature and Middle Eastern Grimm Brothers tale. Ultimately, The Jinn Daughter will leave all who have the privilege to read it in a spellbound and wistful state of reflection."--Noshin Bokth, The New Arab "A hauntingly inimitable debut. . . . Bridging life and death with intimate relationships, grief, loss, hope, and love, Hanna’s novel develops ominously from its first sentence. Her characters’ lives are riddled with obstacles as they serve as the viceregents of opposing worlds, attempting to live some semblance of the lives they have inherited. And as a mother is pushed to the brink of the world for her daughter, the heart of the story is about love and sacrifice."--Manal Shakir, Arab News “Lush . . . powerful . . . vibrant . . . provocative”--Foreword Reviews (starred) “A captivating read. . . . Lyrical language and descriptive world building make this a good recommendation for book discussion groups, and literary and fantasy readers.”--Booklist “A moving, imaginative tale of magic, myth, life and death, and a mother's love”--Shelf Awareness "Rania Hanna [is] a modern-day fabulist who certainly understands the great appeal of storytelling to wrestle with parenting’s grandest dilemmas. In The Jinn Daughter, Rania explores just how far a mother will go to rescue her daughter from death."--Foreword This Week About the author:
Rania Hanna is a Syrian–American writer and researcher. She is a neuroscience doctoral student at George Mason University. The Jinn Daughter is her debut novel. She lives in Northern Virginia. #Book Blitz #Hott Take (Hott Springs Eternal, Book 2) by Serena Bell #Romcom @Xpresso Book Tours16/4/2024
Hott Take
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: After Nia told me that Shane Hott is an actor, I watched the first Crown of Spires movies, Lord of Every Sky. It was full of scenes where he was shirtless, badass, and bossy. He’s basically the villain of the first movie—although I get the sense that he’s going to be redeemed later from the way the camera lingers on his…assets. Even as I watched, I questioned my life choices. I wasn’t at all sure watching the movie was a good idea because in a town as small as Rush Creek, Shane and I were bound to cross paths. After I watched him in Lord of Every Sky, I wanted to build a small monument to his torso and worship it…with my tongue. And now, encountering him in the hallway outside of Hanna’s office, my knees feel less solid than I would ideally like. Never trust a guy so good looking he makes you stupid. So I do what any self-respecting woman would do in that situation. I pretend I have no idea who he is. I can tell he’s waiting for me to recognize him, giving me a beat to say, Holy crap, Shane Hott! After he got on Bridge and turned into a household name, Anthony used to do the same thing. Seeing echoes of Anthony in this guy makes me even less inclined to give him what he wants. Another Hollywood fuckboy hopped up on fan worship. It’s the last thing my life needs. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ivy Scofield,” I say, cool and low key, like I’m introducing myself to the manager at the bank. Surprise flickers behind his eyes, but he hides it, extending his hand. I take it. It’s big, warm, and dry and, unfortunately for my equilibrium, attached to a toned, muscular forearm below a rolled shirt sleeve. The shirt itself is a soft-looking blue gray that clings in all the right places to his movie star–worthy shoulders, pecs, and abs. He has long-lashed dark brown eyes paired with a blade of a nose, square jaw, and lush mouth. Against my will, I admit that he’s gorgeous. I thought I had permanently rid myself of men who were too good looking to be believed, but apparently not. “I think we can help each other out,” he says. Actually, he whispers it. “You, um, mind walking with me?” He gestures toward the exit. “Should I be worried that you’re a serial killer?” The corner of his mouth turns up. “I’m not a serial killer. I’m an actor.” “Even worse.” He laughs, which is terrible because it makes him even better looking, all eye crinkles and white teeth and genuine amusement. Then he stops—because I wasn’t joking and he seems to intuit that. “Even so,” he says, more seriously. “Please. Just…let me walk you out and tell you what I’m thinking.” I give him a shrug-nod, and we walk out of Hott Springs together to the parking lot. Now I know who owns the Aston Martin Vanquish I parked next to. I know nothing about cars…but Anthony coveted that car: fast, expensive, and—his words—a dream to drive. As we draw even with his car, Shane says, “I know you need our barn.” I flick him a quick, confused glance as hope buys real estate in my chest. It sounds like he’s implying that it still might be possible. I will do anything to save our theater—not just for me, but for the kids. I know Nia feels the same way. “I can get the barn for you.” “Hanna said—” “Hanna wasn’t looking at the whole picture,” he tells me. “I am.” I raise an eyebrow. “You need the barn, and I need you to marry me.” His too-pretty-for-real-life face is deadly serious now. My mouth falls open.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Last Seen in Havana by Teresa Dovalpage #Mystery #Thriller @Xpresso Book Tours16/4/2024
Last Seen in Havana
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Sarah stood under a blue pendant lamp in the middle of a huge living room. The faded grandeur of the place still impressed her as it had the first day. She approached an upright piano and played the first chords of “London Bridge.” Though the piano needed tuning, it had a rich, warm sound. There was a blue vase on top, next to the portrait of a dark-haired woman with a pearl necklace. The frame, heavy and ornate, looked like tarnished silver. The wall behind the piano was covered in paintings. The landscapes of marinas and countryside scenes didn’t impress the blonde, but she examined the portraits trying to discover a resemblance between their faces and Joaquín’s. If there was any, it eluded her. Through the picture window, she saw people waiting in line across the street—the same people who had stared at her when she passed them. Her new neighbors. In due time she would join them at the grocery store queue, and they would get to know her. She smiled and two dimples appeared on her cheeks. How fast things had moved! Less than a month ago she had been a guest at Hotel Colina in El Vedado, thinking of the handsome lieutenant who had swept her off her feet after the Triumph of the Revolution parade on January first, but not believing that their relationship (if you could call it a relationship) had any future. After all, she was an American—a “Yankee,” as they said here—who had come to Havana for eight days. But the days had turned into weeks. And the weeks would turn, hopefully, into months, and the months into years . . . The sound of footsteps downstairs made her jump. She ran down the marble staircase, being more careful this time. “Joaquín!” A tall man with angular features, almond eyes and a big smile had just come into the living room. He was wearing the green olive uniform of the Revolutionary Armed Forces, which, in Sarah’s opinion, fit him amazingly well. The fact that she had fallen for a military guy still surprised her. Her father, with whom she had argued for years about everything under the sun, from politics to fashion, had been in the Navy, and she thought that was why he was so pig-headed. But she loved him and was closer to him than to her mother. “¡Mi amor!” Joaquín handed her a bouquet of white lilies, mariposas, which by now Sarah knew were the Cuban national flower. They hugged each other and kissed so passionately that a few mariposas were crushed in the process. “They smell amazing!” Sarah said, pressing the bouquet against her face. “Thanks!” “And here’s this too.” He offered her a small package wrapped in fancy tissue paper. She tore it open and discovered a perfume bottle with the cap shaped like a dome. When she opened it, the scent of bergamot blended with the mariposa fragrance. She tried to decipher the name, written in Cyrillic characters. “It’s called Red Moscow,” Joaquín said. “It’s lovely! But you didn’t need to—” “Don’t you know what day is today?” She did. She had thought of it early in the morning, but he hadn’t mention it. She assumed Cubans didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day because that would imply a religious reference to Saint Valentine. Joaquín had told her that religion was considered an “ideological deviation.” It made sense to her. The opiate of the masses and all that. “El Día de los Enamorados,” he said. A day for lovers. Sarah liked that. She was enamorada, no question about it. And so was he. No, wait, he was enamorado—she still, sometimes, got her endings mixed up. They laughed, embraced again and hurried to the second floor. The mariposa bouquet and the Red Moscow bottle were left on top of the piano, between the blue vase and the silver-framed portrait. A truck drove at high speed in front of the house. The piano shook slightly, and the ghost of a melody came from under the closed lid. The vase and the portrait stayed put, but the perfume bottle fell to the floor and shattered. A potent aroma filled the room and snuck upstairs, passed by the master bedroom and reached the library, where the lady in the painting wore an expression of disgust.
GIVEAWAY! In the Shadow of the Truth
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: From In the Shadow of a Vow Novella When Tomas returned from the barn that afternoon, the sound of his boots on the floor captured her attention as she stood at the kitchen counter he’d made for her. His form in the doorway—wide and encompassing—was at first a buoying relief then a crushing disappointment. She’d failed him. He stalled, assessing, his eyes dragging along the countertop where she stood amidst a haphazard wreck of herbs—her supplies for making tinctures and medicines she took on calls and sold at the market. “Did you mean to leave all your tools in the garden?” he asked. There wasn’t any accusation in his tone, only curiosity. “And the laundry undone in the wash basin?” When she didn’t answer—because she couldn’t seem to align the words with meaning—he asked, “What’s going on here?” Scarlett looked down at the mess she’d made, opened her mouth to tell him what she was doing, but her mind went blank. She couldn’t remember what she’d been doing. She didn’t know what she was doing anymore. The longer she looked at the greens, the pestle and mortar, the boiling pot, the less sense any of the disarray made. “It’s chaos, Scar,” he said quietly next to her. “Unlike you.” She looked up from the mess to his face, to his kind eyes shaped with concern. Scar. She’d always loved the way he shortened her name, the only one who ever did. Then without warning, she burst into tears, pressing the towel in her hands against her face as her grief, pain, worry, regret, disappointment wrenched out of her with horrific gasp. She’d ruined everything. Tomas gathered her into his arms with soothing sounds. “Hush,” he whispered, his wide, heavy hand on the back of her head. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, grasping hold of his shirt, her face pressed into the strength of his chest. He held her. “They’re gone,” she sobbed. “I failed.” His arms squeezed her a touch tighter, and when his face pressed into the place between her neck and shoulder, Scarlett wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing up onto her toes, needing to be closer to his comfort. “I failed too,” he whispered, his lips against her skin. “We both have.” She shook her head. “Not you, Tomas.” She drew back to look at him. Raising his head, his eyes connected with hers, the sadness a deep, evergreen forest swirling inside them where he was lost. And it was her fault. She knew this. Had pushed him to go against his nature by keeping her secrets, securing the spells. Unsure about anything but the tumult of emotions she couldn’t seem to harness, Scarlett reached for comfort she knew he provided, a comfort she could reciprocate. She kissed him, her hands framing his face, his beard soft against her palms. He froze, tension tightening his shoulders. And she thought he might pull away, but suddenly he was kissing her back, capitulating, needing, seeking. His tongue sought entrance, and she granted it. It was hungry, two souls on the periphery of starvation, finding one another in the darkness.
GIVEAWAY! The Omega Archives: Escalation
-- EXCERPT: We sprinted after the last guy who was running through the desert area. My heart pounded as I sprinted after the guy. All I could think about was tackling this guy to the ground and beating the shit out of him. The field seemed like an endless desert of sand and dried-out plants. The last guy made a hard turn into what looked like a cave entrance. The entrance hand a big concrete shaft leading inside with black water pouring out of it. We stopped and shined our flashlights into the cave, but saw nothing. Barns and I went inside. It was dark and smelled like a port-a-potty that hadn’t been cleaned in years; we heard rats squeaking and the echoes of water dripping in the distance. Being in there made my stomach feel like it was going to blow up and I felt like I would never eat again. We walked on until we arrived at a very large room. I went in, and the gate slammed shut behind me. The slamming echoed throughout the room and it froze my heart. I turned and ran towards the gate. “Hey let me out!” I said. I tried pulling on the bars and kicking the gate down, but it was too strong. “Come on, let me out!” I tried contacting Max on my radio. “Max, do you copy?” I asked. “Alex… can you hear…” Max said. My radio went static. “Long live the Union,” Barnes said as he backed off and sunk into the darkness of the cave. My heart dropped into my stomach as he backed off. “Long live the Union, indeed!” Another man said in a British accent. Some lights flashed behind me. I slowly turned around. it was Axel. “Alex Connors, we meet at last,” he said in a soft voice as he took a few steps towards me. “I have been looking forward to this for so long.” A wave of anxiety hit me like a truck. He was a lot bigger in person, but not too big just big enough to pose a threat. I couldn’t take my attention off of how much bigger he was in person. All around was rock and water. I could hear water flowing nearby only to pour out into a drain. I immediately pulled out my rifle and aimed it at him, ready to shoot as that feeling in my stomach came back. “Please put down the weapons. You can’t kill all of us,” Axel said. I looked up, and saw the next level up; a large group of Axels’ men were armed with machine guns and assault rifles. My entire body was covered with laser sight dots like a Christmas tree. My heart froze up as I pictured myself getting blown away. “They all have armor-piercing bullets, and clear shots,” Axel said. I put down my rifle, pistol, and knife. The clank of my rifle and pistol hitting the ground echoed in the room. I stood there feeling naked as I took some breaths, trying to calm myself down. “So you’re Axel? What do you want?” “Ah, straight to business huh?” he said, smiling. “You know I have orders to bring you in, right?” I said. Axel walked closer to me, seeming to grow bigger with each step. “Oh, I am aware of your mission, indeed,” he said “You think I don’t know you, Alex? I’ve been watching you for some time now,” he said while still speaking in his soft voice. I started to sweat. I wiped my head while I tried to process my thoughts. I continued to try and get my mind off my feelings as I focused on Axel. “Yeah. Well, to me, you are just another terrorist on some kind of mission. An anarchist,” I said as Axel laughed. “Ah, so young and still so much to learn. I have been doing this far longer then you have,” he said. “Age does have its advantages,” I said. “As well as its disadvantages,” Axel replied. “Why did you attack the Pentagon?” I asked as I walked closer to him. Axel started to walk to me. “Easy. I needed to draw attention.” “By killing innocent people?” “Ha! Just another stereotypical word: Innocent. Please, Alex, those people were just expendable assets, just like everyone else.” “We will see about that,” I said as I walked towards him. At that moment, all I thought about was beating Axel to a pulp. I ran up to him and struck at him with all the strength I had. His steel-like body just absorbed the strikes, taking little to no damage whatsoever. I threw another right hook. He blocked it and threw an uppercut elbow to my face, knocking me back, then a spin kick to my chest, kicking me into a pile of bricks. I felt like someone had hit my solar plexus with a sledgehammer as I tried to breathe. All I could think about was the pain as I lay there like I was a plant being eaten by rodents. I rubbed my jaw, trying to ease the pain, and my body was covered in sweat and dust. The Mercenaries just stood by and watched. “Your confidence has gotten the best of you. You have been fighting so much of these mere humans that you believe yourself to be unstoppable. You proclaim that you are a super-soldier. But really you are just a boy,” he said. As I laid there, feeling like my body was crushed by a wrecking ball, I kept thinking about my training. I could still hear the trainer shouting at me to control my emotions. I closed my eyes and breathed, trying to get my mind off of my feelings. “I’ve beaten people like you before,” I said as I got up slowly, trying to fight through the pain. I did a spin kick to his face with Axel leaning back, slightly dodging it. I then did a spin side kick to him, with him blocking it, followed by a spin jump kick to his chest, which seemingly did nothing to him. I threw more hooks to his face with every bit of strength I had. When I went to throw the third, he grabbed my fist and started squeezing it like an empty Coke can; several snapping sounds emerged from my hand. I could feel the bones in my fist being slowly crushed like wood, and it was all I could focus on. I screamed in pain as I slowly dropped to my knees. I tried to break his grip, but it was as strong as steel. My right hand was practically destroyed. “All this strength and no coordination. You are truly an amateur,” he said as he pushed me to the ground. He then did a powerful bottom fist strike to my back, which felt like being hit by a pipe wrench. I took another breath, trying not to explode with anger so I don’t throw up, then got up and went to do another spinning jump kick. While I was in mid-air, Axel punched me directly in the solar plexus, knocking me down. All the air was knocked out of me again, and I could barely breathe. He then picked me up and threw me into a wall. A bang followed as I hit the floor. My body felt like all the bones were broken into bits, and I could not get up. My mind was glued to the pain as it settled. As I lay there, Axel walked up and crouched next to me. “I understand what you are going through. You’ve spent half of your life training, and now you are split. Every day you contend with adapting to human life. These humans have corrupted your mind, but I can help you. I can save you from them. Please let me help you,” he said. His voice was pretty calm and soothing for a terrorist. I slowly picked myself up, feeling like my body was going to break into pieces at any second. My arms felt like they were weighed down by trucks, and my chest weighed a ton. I gripped my broken wrist as I tried to find my balance. “I don’t need your help!” I said, standing ready. “Very well then,” he said as he did a spinning heel kick to my face, knocking me out. From there it was just blackness and nothing.
GIVEAWAY! Sir, Yes Sir
#Book Blitz #The Backup Princess by Kate O'Keeffe #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours8/4/2024
The Backup Princess
-- EXCERPT: “Hello?” I fumble with my phone to locate the torch app, which suddenly seems to have disappeared. “Who’s in here?” I demand, half expecting to find a murderer or some kind of psychopath, wielding a knife, ready to attack. “Who are you?” an indignant voice responds. Finally, I locate the torch app and flick it on, scanning the closet. I suck in a breath as it illuminates a woman, her features lined with fear as she squints at me, her hands held in tight fists in front of her chest. I relax. She doesn’t look like a murderer or a psychopath, or even a ghost. Well, a little like a ghost. The woman is rather pale. But there’s something recognizable about her. The look in her eyes is like a deer in headlights. A beautiful deer. A familiar deer. I take a step closer to her. “Get back!” she screeches. “I’m warning you; I know tai chi.” I press my lips together to stop a smile. “You know how to do slow, controlled movements at sunrise?” If I tried to keep the amusement from my voice it wasn’t much of an effort. “I meant… karate. I know karate and I’m not afraid to use it!” She unfurls her fists and brandishes her flat hands at me. A laugh bubbles up, and I do my best to style it out as a cough. “I come in peace, I assure you.” “How do I know that?” She does a chopping motion with one of her hands, presumably to demonstrate her karate prowess. “Why don’t you put those weapons of yours down?” I reach for her hands to hold them in mine reassuringly. This woman is freaked out and I need to do something. As my hands fold over hers she snaps them away, raises one in a fist, and before I have the chance to ask what she intends to do with that fist, she jabs it straight at my face. “Argh!” I call out, my eyes watering as my nose throbs in pain that pulses painfully across my cheekbones. I stagger back, clasping my nose “What did you do that for?” But no sooner have the words left my mouth when she yanks the cupboard door open and bursts from the room, her skirt billowing behind her as she rushes away from me down the hall. “What the—?!” I trail after her, muttering in disbelief. Who punches someone in the face in a hallway cupboard when all they were trying to do was show they weren’t a threat? Through watering eyes, I blink at her as she tears away from me down the hallway—only to fall flat on her face, her skirt billowing up behind her to expose her plain white cotton underpants, and her tiara pinging off her head and bouncing across the carpet. Who is this woman and what the heck is she playing at? My instinct kicks in, and before I have the chance to second guess myself, I hurry down the hallway to her aid. “Are you all right?” I ask. Her eyes are wild as she yells, “Stay away!” She clamors back to her feet, clutching her head. “Are you hurt?” I ask, and she shakes her head, her eyes searching the floor. She must be looking for her tiara. “It’s over there.” I point at the tiara on the ground, still in one piece. She grabs it and turns back to me. “I—please don’t tell anyone.” “Okay.” She doesn’t say another word, instead she turns on her heel and dashes away, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight. I stand, rooted to the spot, my brain scrambling to make sense of what just happened. I sought a brief moment of refuge in a cupboard only to be attacked by a beautiful woman in a tiara with an American accent. My nose throbs painfully as realization dawns on me. She’s Madeline, the American here to claim the throne. The woman a nation has pinned their hopes on. The woman who wields a strong right hook.
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Crown of Wings and Thorns by May Ting #Fantasy #New Adult #Romance @Xpresso Book Tours8/4/2024
Crown of Wings and Thorns
-- EXCERPT: I’d heard tales that vampires had an uncanny ability to beguile their prey. Their attractive faces and bewitching scent, partnered with their commanding voices entranced victims, making them do whatever was asked of them. He must be using the same supernatural powers to captivate me. Despite his effort, I prevailed and pushed the horrendous thought to the far recesses of my mind. “Never in peace.” He growled, his hot breath fanned the shell of my ear. “You are my enemy.” “Fine. You want to die here, right now?” I gritted the words through my teeth as I slowly released my feathers, my chest rising and falling just as fast as his. He made the mistake of pulling back just enough for his eyes to lock with mine. I pushed off with the strength of my feathers, taking him with me. His back thumped the opposite wall and I trapped him with my body and wings. Victus’s eyes grew wide, stunned. With an ear-piercing snarl, his feet tangled with mine to launch us into a wild spin, and then he pushed me against the wall with such force that all of the air was knocked from my lungs with an oomph. “I loathe your kind,” he hissed, baring his teeth. “And I despise everything about you.” I clenched my jaw. “My hatred for you is greater.” The tendrils under his eyes throbbed. We were thrown into a battle of push and shove, taking turns on who would be on top of our chaotic tumbling until we eventually stopped at the opposite end of the room, panting. With my back to the wall, he took a fistful of my hair and yanked my head to the side, exposing my neck. His hot breath and his sharp fangs grazed down my skin. I shuddered and every vein in my body seared. I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or from the heated tussle and our bodies colliding. “If you believe I’m your enemy, then bite me.” I took a chance by saying the latter. Since he found me revolting, he would likely release me. He gripped my hair tighter and snarled
GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Lady of Cosa Nostra: Victoria's Secrets by Contel Bradford @Xpresso Book Tours8/4/2024
Lady Cosa Nostra: Victoria’s Secrets
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GIVEAWAY! #Book Blitz #Two Truths and a Marriage by Nicole Snow #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours3/4/2024
Two Truths and a Marriage
-- EXCERPT: I’m instantly peppered with goosebumps at what he’s proposing. Another date. Another important family member to impress. Another lie. More people we have to deceive to keep this big ball of fake engagement crazy going. Even if we’re getting better at this, something’s got to give. “There’s something else I had to bring in person,” he says slowly, watching me warily. “For your trouble.” What’s he talking about? His hand drifts out of his pocket, clasping a small grey box with gold lettering. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. When he opens it, revealing what I’m dreading, I don’t remember how to breathe. A freaking ring. And not just any ring. No, this is a ring from Dexter Rory, a man who never learned how to do anything without going all out. Of course, it’s gorgeous enough to make me stupid. All diamond-studded white gold with a sparkling blue stone in the middle. The whole vibe is both delicate and totally over the top. I’m already in love with the wretched thing. And I hate that I love it. “There’s no sense in being subtle anymore. Counting my brothers, a ton of people know we’re engaged,” he explains. “No one will believe I’ve proposed without a ring on your finger.” “Oh my God.” I’m hyperventilating. “You just… you went and… you bought me an engagement ring?” I say faintly, knowing full well there’s no doubt. An engagement ring. Those three little words feel completely alien. His face blanks, but he’s smiling with his eyes, midnight-blue apologies sparkling like stars. “I’m sorry if it’s not your style, Junie. There’s still time to swap it out.” “Are you insane?” I could have searched the world twice over and not found an engagement ring half this magnificent. This man, who doesn’t even know me, is some sort of personal jewelry genius. “It’s really pretty,” I whisper. “It’s yours to keep when this is over. Don’t even ask how much it costs,” he says. “Sell it, keep it, give it to your cat, whatever. I’m sure this isn’t the type of engagement you wanted—and technically, it’s not. I’m just grateful you’re willing to go along with it.” Why does he sound like he’s trying to make himself believe it? My brain sputters. All I can see right now is that ring in its little grey box, the blue velvet inside cushioning the precious diamonds and stillborn promises. I don’t doubt for a second they’re real, and they’re spectacular. Oh, and its resale value will probably break my jaw when it hits the ground. He’s paying me a massive premium in jewelry on top of the six figures hitting my account. The bigger the lie, the more I earn. That should thrill me, coming into a small fortune I never imagined, but it doesn’t. Not while I’m staring at something that shouldn’t exist. A ring from a man who’s hilariously out of my league. The one thing I never thought I’d get with a monster catch. A fake fiancé. A man who doesn’t want to marry me. Of course, he shouldn’t. He doesn’t even know me. Still. Still, I can’t help feeling it bone-deep, knowing that the only ring I’ll ever get is just a whacky business transaction. Not because I’m lovable. Not because it means anything. Not because I’m someone he’d ever date, much less marry.
GIVEAWAY! |
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