The Con Pre-Order Pushback! ⏱

I told myself that I wasn’t going to do this…

But I hafta. (A *trying-to-better* romance writer’s gotta do what she’s gotta do)

THE CON is still with editors at the moment and because I want Jacob + Sophie’s second-chance-we-kinda-work-together-so-we-shouldnt-but-we’re-going-to-anyway story to be the very BEST it can be—in a non-Army 👩‍🏭 sense—I’ve decided to push the release of this forbidden, secret billionaire romance book to….

NOVEMBER 15th.

And because I HATE (I mean, really really hate) disappointing myself or you, I wanted to at least share one of my favorite excerpts that I put out on IG literally yesterday.

If you like emotional shower 🚿 scenes, built beautiful men with issues they have to work out and strong women who know how to have a good cry, you will fall for this scene as I have, I’m sure of it.

Here’s an exclusive (pre-edited) excerpt from Jacob + Sophie’s secret billionaire romance story in THE CON.

💦 JACOB
I open the shower door. “Let me help you.”

She raises her eyes to glance at me.

Wet, dark strands of hair sling sideways as she shakes her head again. Her eyes close once more, her arms reaching up to draw the water from her face. She leans heavily against the wall.

“I’m fine,” she calls out quietly.

“It doesn’t look that way to me.” I swallow, keeping my gaze on her gorgeous face. “You can barely stand.”

I touch her slightly, my hand brushing over the small line of stitches on her soft shoulder. “Sophie,” I say her name again, my voice gentle. “Let me in.”

She dips her chin, staring down at my hand. And then, she shifts slightly to the side, positioning herself slightly higher on the wall, as she holds out her hand to me.

I grasp it tightly. It feels small, so very small in my hand, soft and damp on the back. And yet it feels remarkably firm. Confident.

“Let’s go back to bed.” I extend my other hand, ready to pull her in closer, to hold her.

But when I reach out to her, she hugs me, her body shaking. Her hands clutch to my back as she raises her head to my shoulder, like a child.

In a voice that’s barely above a whisper, with her throat hoarse with tears, Sophie whispers, “Jacob…I need you to hold me. Just—hold me.”

In the next heartbeat, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her tightly against me.

She cries, her sobs gentle against my skin. I burrow my face against her.

“Shhh. Don’t worry…I’m here. It’s going to be okay, baby.” I press a kiss against her dark, deep waves of hair.

She only cries harder.

My nostrils fill with the scent of her. Of the soap clinging to her body. My skin prickles with the scald of the heated water streaming over her skin.

I hold her tight, as if that would be enough to take away the pain.

I don’t know that is.

Not for her. Or for me.

Because I’m falling for her.

I’m falling fast.

I’m falling fast into something that I have no right to be in.

No right to feel.