Stuck In Books

Last Night
Kim Deister
Publication date: September 7th 2026
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller

What do you do when you keep losing time?

Terrifying visions torment Starra. Lost moments of time and flashes of images too horrific to accept fill her with icy fear so complete she can’t escape it. With too many unanswered questions, she needs answers. Now. It’s her only hope if she wants to save what’s left of her shattered mind and soul.

Unlike Starra, Mina cares nothing for her soul. Damned long ago, she’s too scarred for redemption. There are people meant to enjoy lives of love and family and friends. Mina isn’t one of these people. Her life is in the shadows, unafraid of the dark… until she realizes that something lurks in those shadows, something that wants to tear her apart.

One never knows what the darkness hides…

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

Night fell quickly, swallowing the last light of day in the blink of an eye as the sky darkened from a surreal deep purple into a vast expanse of ebony. Not a single star pricked through the inky darkness. Even the moon shied away from shining too brightly through the clouds that faded into the night sky.

They call it the city that never sleeps for a reason. It was never truly dark in New York City, a million neon lights shining through even the blackest of nights.

But not tonight. Tonight the darkness engulfed everything it touched, dimming even the brightest of the neon, absorbing it into itself.

It was the kind of thick, cloying darkness that made people fear every shadow that moved as they hurried along the evening streets. It seemed alive, almost sentient, as it slipped around corners, like it was a predator chasing its prey, swallowing everything in its path into an endless void. People scurried along the sidewalks with their hearts racing, eyes furtively darting into the dark places. As the shadows shifted ominously, they quickened their paces until they were safely behind locked doors with the lights on and the curtains pulled tightly across the windows. They were right to hide, right to be afraid of whatever lurked on the other side of the too-thin glass. Dangerous things hid in the shadows of the night.

I knew that, probably more than anyone. The night scared the hell out of me. But it wasn’t the monsters that hid in the shadows that frightened me. They paled in comparison to the beast I feared lurked within me, the beast that came out at night. I lived in fear that I was the monster that hid in the shadows.

Yet even as much as the night terrified me, I welcomed it. The darkness wrapped me in its arms. The shadows that danced on the walls didn’t scare me; they kept me company when I felt alone. The noises that made others slam their windows shut and throw the locks home sounded like music to me, distracting me from the thoughts that ran through my head all day long, tormenting me. The night energized me, made me feel strong and powerful when most of the time I felt anything but.

Author Bio:

My name is Kim and my last name, Deister, is pronounced “Die-ster.” I always tell my husband I should have kept my married name, Ingram. So much easier to to pronounce!

I am a writer thoroughly in love with words. Reading them, writing them… I love that words can take you outside of your world and let the unimaginable become imaginable. I love them so much that I decided I needed to create some worlds and stories of my own!

Besides being a writer, I am an Army veteran (and Army wife) and a mom to four sons. I grew up in northern New York in a tiny college town called Potsdam. Over the years, our Army life has taken us all over the place and I have been lucky enough to work and live in some pretty amazing places. Right now we live in Hawaii on the island of O’ahu, minutes from the North Shore.

Website / Facebook / Goodreads

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Last Night Blitz

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The Last Summerville
Annabelle Lewis
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller, Romance, Suspense, Thriller

Twenty-two-year-old Georgia Parker already carries more regret than most people twice her age. Practically an orphan, she’s reeling from the death of her grandmother, Mimi—the one person who made her feel safe from the chaos of her mother’s world. Alone in Carson City, Nevada, Georgia is determined to start over, to stand on her own. Yet Mimi’s final words echo in her mind: Take risks. Trust people again. Be brave.

Then Heath Summerville steps into her life—charming, magnetic, protective, and so perfectly attuned to her needs it feels like fate. But the closer Georgia gets, the more she feels the pull of something she can’t name—something just beneath the surface of his charm.

Strange silences. Half-truths. High-society circles and an ancestral house that feels more like a trap than a refuge.

Lies are waiting to unravel. And by the time Georgia sees the truth, it might already be too late.

Goodreads / Amazon

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CHAPTER 1:

“Get me out of this godforsaken town and back to civilization,” Vicky grumbled.

Georgia, behind the wheel, glanced at her mom, Vicky, who was shakily applying lipstick while looking in a handheld compact mirror. Vicky clicked it shut, then pulled down the passenger visor, only to find the old car devoid of a larger mirror. She swatted it back up, then garbled a sound of exasperation before diving back into her purse in search of something else.

Georgia didn’t see the lure of Las Vegas like her mother did. It was one of many differences between them. “No!” she suddenly exclaimed when Vicky put a cigarette to her lips, intending to light it. “Not in the car.”

“Why are you such an old damn scold, Georgia?” Vicky scowled. “You’re twenty-two years old, for fuck’s sake. Your holier-than-thou bullshit has gotten worse. Every time I see you.”

Vicky shook her head, then turned to stare out the window. Georgia swallowed back the words she wanted to throw in her mom’s face.

Not today. Not after all they’d been through.

They spent the rest of the drive to the Carson City airport in awkward silence. Georgia pulled to the curb at the departures area and then walked to the back of the Ford Bronco to help retrieve the bags. Vicky took them, mumbled goodbye, and walked away without a hug.

“Goodbye, Mom,” Georgia called loudly as she shivered in the cold, standing next to the back of her Mimi’s Bronco. She watched Vicky drag her bag, her head bowed, her eyes already on her phone. She didn’t turn to give Georgia one last look of goodbye, nor acknowledge Georgia’s use of the tender moniker of “mom,” rather than the usual “Vicky.” It hurt. But why Georgia expected Vicky to suddenly become maternal was the bigger question. And neither of them had made falsely loving or empty promises to keep in touch.

Author Bio:

Annabelle Lewis—a pseudonym for the author—lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Regrettably? Perhaps. She still believes she’s a Texan even though the math no longer supports that. Nor her birthplace. Nor her residence. No offense, Minnesota. You’ve got your good points too, but only about six months of the year.

In her youth, Annabelle was a complete failure. Ask anyone who knew her. Any of her teachers and family would tell you this. High school graduation was a sad day for all when Annabelle walked proudly off the high school stage, her thoughts consumed with boys, beer, and after-parties, and later into the arms of her parents. Her father’s laughter and singular remark? “I didn’t think you’d make it. Get a job at the post office, they have a good retirement plan.”

A high bar and words to live by, but Annabelle wanted more. She needed to flunk out of college too. But damn, she sure did have a good time. Trivial arrest records not-withstanding, it was a growth period for our girl. And if you look closely, you’ll see a bit of what was to come when she majored in criminal justice. Her lifelong aspiration was to become a judge. Hmm.

For better or worse, Annabelle didn’t graduate from college but did find gainful employment and a fulfilling career. This path ended when she became a mom. Married to her wonderful George, who to this day can hardly remember an actual proposal, Annabelle finally became a mother. She didn’t have a clue how hard she would need to work to keep those self-imposed requirements of Downey-fresh, iron-pressed sheets, home-baked meals, and mom-of-the-year awards arriving. She composed a small self-affirmation song and made her children sing it to her for money. She was a very good mom.

After clearing the largest hurdles of motherhood and regrettably, begrudgingly, and not-without-tears, launching her children onto the world, she looked around and realized she had a lot to say. Picking up a laptop, she got to work.

Annabelle spends her days continuing to tackle the challenges of motherhood, for both her humans and canines. She also writes. And reads. And cleans. And cooks. And bakes. And cleans again. She also supports her husband, George, in an administrative capacity for their small business. She’s in charge of payroll and cuts George’s checks. This leads to no marital acrimony.

In the beginning, with the blank page staring at her and possibly in a hostile mood after being literally mauled by a dog and by the world in general, she had an idea. What if she could wield a force of good upon unsuspecting evil-doers? What if she had the resources to get the job done without dealing with committee and anyone else’s whiney-ass opinions?

It was gold. It took off. Annabelle sat down and began to write and couldn’t stop. To date, having written over a million words in the Carrows Family Chronicles and her second series on the Boston Clairvoyants, several items have become quite clear. Annabelle had a lot to say. Annabelle really enjoys writing. And although she hates all things technology, she begrudgingly pounds her head on her desk daily as obstacles are thrown in her path. Almost a hero.

Since entering her world of make-believe, she has rebelled against all intrusion of real-world responsibilities. Her house is a mess, but she tries. Her family is fed, but more often than not, on takeout. She vows to shower every day, but no, it’s a vow she’ll never keep. Her friends are neglected, but not in her heart.

Read her mordacious blog! Read her books! Follow her on social platforms! Sign up for her newsletter! These are all good things. What are you waiting for? Jump into bed with Annabelle. She’s having a swell time. You should join her. theannabellelewis.com annabellelewisauthor@gmail.com IG and Twitter: alewisauthor

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The Last Summerville Blitz

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Silver Bells, Single Bed
Paula Dombrowiak
(Hollow Reign, #2)
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

My bandmate’s little sister is off-limits.

Then a Christmas blizzard traps us together in Chicago with only one bed.

After months on tour, all I want is to get home for Christmas. Instead, a winter storm strands me in Chicago with Harper Beaumont, a rising ballet star with everything on the line, including the lead role in her company’s production of The Nutcracker.

With both our flights canceled and Harper watching her dream disappear, I do the one thing I absolutely shouldn’t do—convince her to experience the Christmas magic of Chicago.

Somewhere between sparkling lights, one forbidden kiss, and a snow-covered city, Harper stops being my bandmate’s little sister…

and becomes the woman I can’t stop wanting.

When the only hotel room left has one bed, resisting her becomes impossible, sspecially when she asks me to be her first.

One night with Harper is hot enough to melt the Christmas snow but when morning comes and my bandmate finds out I crossed the line with his sister…

I have to decide if I’m brave enough to risk everything for the woman I was never supposed to have.

Silver Bells, Single Bed is Book 2 in the Hollow Reign Christmas Novellas—a series of interconnected, steamy holiday romances that can be read in any order.

Goodreads / Purchase

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EXCERPT:

“So,” she says. “Small problem.”

I cannot fathom any problem bigger than the one that’s currently happening in my pants at the sight of her.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in.” She wiggles the bag helplessly. “I didn’t exactly pack for two overnights. Everything in here is dance clothes. I can sleep in this, I guess.” She shakes her head and sets the bag down on the chair.

Jesus fuck, the universe is loving me today.

“You can’t sleep in your clothes.”

“Well, I think sleeping naked is out of the question,” she says, and I swear she’s not as innocent as she seems.

I clear my throat. “That’s not…” I dig through my duffel bag until I find a Hollow Reign concert t-shirt and hold it out to her. “Here. You can sleep in this.”

She hesitates a beat.

“It’s clean, I promise.”

Her fingers brush mine, small and soft as she takes it and brings it up to her nose. “Smells like you,” she smiles and then disappears back into the bathroom.

Fuck, get yourself together, Rhodes.

What would Casey do if he knew I was in a hotel room with his little sister right now, and that she was wearing my t-shirt? I press my forehead against the cold glass window and try to think about anything—my drum kit, my mom’s tamales, the tempo count on the new single, anything that isn’t Harper Beaumont pulling her sweater off on the other side of that door.

And I wasn’t prepared for the sight of her as she walks out of the bathroom wearing my shirt. Every coherent thought in my brain evaporates.

The neckline slips off one shoulder, and the hem hits the tops of her thighs, revealing soft, smooth legs. She pads over to her bag and stuffs her clothes inside.

“It’s a little big,” she says, pulling on the hem.

I swallow hard.

“Jesus, Harper,” I say, my voice rough. “Are you not wearing a bra?”

She looks down at herself, genuinely confused, then back up at me. “Of course not.” She shakes her head like that’s the stupidest question in the world. “It’s not comfortable to sleep in. Get over it.”

Get over it?

She says it the way another girl would say pass the salt. Like she has no idea what she’s doing to me. Like she hasn’t just rearranged the entire chemistry of the room by walking out of a bathroom in my shirt, her nipples visible through the material.

I scrub a hand down my face.

I grab a pillow off the bed and carry it to the armchair by the window. “I’ll take the chair. You take the bed.”

“Liam, that chair isn’t big enough for you to sleep in.”

“I’ll manage.”

She crosses to the bed and lies down on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching me with an expression I can’t read. The t-shirt rides up her thigh, and I swear to God I catch the edge of lace and the curve of her hip underneath before I have to physically drag my eyes off her.

I rearrange the pillow, trying to smash it into submission.

“Liam,” she says, getting my attention. She’s resting her cheek on her hand. Her hair is spilling across the white pillow, and she looks like a fucking wet dream. “Do you not feel safe in the bed with me?”

Author Bio:

Paula Dombrowiak grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois but currently lives in Arizona. She is the author of Blood and Bone, her first adult romance novel which combines her love of music and imperfect relationships. Paula is a lifelong music junkie, whose wardrobe consists of band T-shirts and leggings which are perpetually covered in pet hair. She is a sucker for a redeemable villain, bad boys, and the tragically flawed. Music inspires her storytelling.

For more ways to learn about Paula and her books, check out her website: @www.pauladombrowiak.com

Website / Goodreads / Instagram / Newsletter / Facebook Group / Facebook Page / Bookbub / TikTok

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Silver Bells, Single Bed Blitz

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Love Next Door: A ‘90s Anthem Duet
Eve Kasey & Melanie A. Smith
Publication date: September 1st 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

One volume, two steamy interconnected romances set in 1995 Seattle

Come to My Window
Hazel Bell has lost everything — her job, her apartment, and her future in Seattle. Now her whole world is a thrift-store wardrobe, a family of houseplants, and a stranger in the opposite window who knows exactly what to say.

They exchange notes instead of names. Confessions instead of introductions. And somehow, the man she’s never met becomes the one person she can’t live without.

Gideon Sarkis knows the truth would end them before they ever begin.

He knows exactly who Hazel is. But she doesn’t know him — or how badly he once hurt her. The more notes they write, the harder he falls. But with his obligations pressing in and her options disappearing, their time is running out.

Some windows are meant to be opened.

But some secrets can shatter everything.

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door
Ben Pedersen is a ghostwriter stuck crafting someone else’s thrillers when a misdelivered package introduces him to the mystery of unit 203 — and its elusive occupant, Heaven Lee.

Lee is a software engineer burning the candle at every possible end, helping build one of the first online bookstores. She doesn’t have time for nosy neighbors. She barely has time for sleep. But the guy upstairs keeps getting her mail, and he’s funny, patient, and her dog likes him more than the UPS guy. So maybe one coffee not-date won’t kill her.

The neighborly arrangement that follows becomes something neither of them planned. But Lee won’t admit what’s in the misdelivered packages, and Ben’s writer brain won’t let a mystery rest. When curiosity crosses a line, both must decide what matters more: protecting their secrets or fighting for what they’ve found.

Love Next Door is two warm, witty nostalgic love stories about the secrets we keep, the walls we build, and the people worth tearing them down for.

Goodreads / Purchase

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EXCERPT:

Hazel is parked in a chair in front of her window, arms around her knees as if she needs the extra support. Our gazes collide across the space between us. Even with the tiny smile she offers, she looks small and lonely, and it breaks my heart.

There is no note. Just her.

After a long moment in which we just share space, she unwinds her arms and turns to her kitchen table. Her hair falls across her face as she scribbles out a note. I watch as she tucks long locks behind her ear, and wish it’s my fingers instead.

Coffee shop? her note says. She’s drawn a steaming mug beside the words.

I nod.

And wait.

Her next note is unexpected. I saw you at the grocery store yesterday.

My stomach flips. Seriously? In the same building twice in as many days? I wonder how often that’s happened without our knowledge. Maybe we’ve been circling around each other for months, just out of reach.

And? She’d seen me and done nothing about it. Why?

A bit of her sparkle returns as she shares a small, sly smile. And I still think you’re incredibly handsome.

I chuckle softly, but I won’t let her slide. Talk to me, Picasso.

Her smile fades. Nodding, she turns her attention back to her art supplies. Her words against the glass are navy blue and stark. It’s been an invisible day. Ever feel invisible?

I don’t. My size and coloring make me stand out. I’ve never felt invisible, but I’ve never truly felt seen, either. Not until eye contact with my neighbor was all I had.

I shake my head before bending down to write the next note. I may not have seen you, but I see you. I make the last three words bold, going over the letters several times. Then I make a second sign. You shine, Hazel. Even in the dark.

Thank you, she doodles out, including leaves and buds around the letters. Then another. You have a way of helping me heal. A broken heart held together by stitches.

“Killing me, Picasso,” I breathe. That is the greatest compliment she can give me, especially knowing what I do.

You get me through the day, Hazel. Even before I knew you, you were the reason I smiled.

She puts her hand on her heart, and I swear I feel myself fall.

Smiling, Hazel writes another note and holds it up to the window. Do I get to know your name?

With those words, I hit the earth.

I refuse to let my panic show on my face. Thinking quickly, I scrawl out a desperate reply. If you’ve named all your plants, I know you’ve named me, too. What do you call me?

She visibly cringes, and heaves an exaggerated sigh I can see across the alley and holds her confession up to the window.

Fred.

I blink. As in Flintstone? Why?

Hazel is slow to reply, but I don’t mind because I have her pursed lips and another peek of her clavicle to focus on. Because you’re too sexy for your shirt.

It takes a few seconds to process her words. Then I burst out laughing, harder than I have in weeks. Not Flintstone, then. Right Said Fred. The guy with the truly obnoxious song.

Still chuckling, I glance down at my exposed abs, loving that she appreciates my hard work, loving even more that “too sexy” is how she thinks of me.

Despite the crazy day, despite the secret I’m holding in my heart, I make sure that Hazel knows that the feeling is mutual.

I let desire take over every part of me, slowly, like a trickle of light rain. I allow heat into my gaze. Leaning forward on the shelf, I let my muscles pop and eyes roam. I take her in as I share my more lascivious thoughts through body language.

For her, I strip myself bare, deeper than flesh. I stop hiding how I see her. And I drink down what I witness across the way.

A flower opening in the sun.

Author Bio:

Eve Kasey writes for a design firm by day and reads (and writes!) indie romance novels by night. Her contemporary romances balance swoon and steam while aiming to teach readers something new. She loves romance for the hope the genre conveys as well as the amplification of the simple truth that everyone everywhere deserves a happily ever after – however that looks to them. Eve lives in and loves the Pacific Northwest.

Melanie A. Smith is an award-winning, international best-selling author of steamy romance with smart, self-sufficient heroines and strong, swoony book boyfriends with hearts of gold. A former engineer turned stay-at-home mom and author, when Melanie is not lost in the world of books you’ll find her spending time with her husband and son, crafting, or cross-stitching.