by Serena Bell

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The girl next door is the one that got away. He just doesn’t know it yet. . . .

“Touching and seductive . . . a perfect blend of romantic sexiness and sweet sentimentality.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Sawyer: After my wife died, I promised myself I’d never go through the pain of losing someone again. Now I keep my flings neat, tidy, and one-time-only. Besides, my son needs me more than ever. He’s miserable in our new town, so I’m pumped when he makes friends with the kid next door—until I recognize his mom from a one-night stand. Perky and upbeat, Elle Dunning is not my type for anything other than tearing up the sheets. So why do I keep letting myself get roped into game nights and get-togethers?

Elle: It so hasn’t been my year. That’s my first thought when I see my new next-door neighbor. I never would have hooked up with Sawyer Paulson if my husband hadn’t left me for his high-school sweetheart, but because our eight-year-old boys have become best friends, I’ve got to make nice with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent. Yet the more time we spend together, the more Sawyer opens up. We’ve both been hurt—badly. So it’s one thing to send the kids off to sleepaway camp together. It’s quite another to promise each other a lifetime of sleepovers. . . .

Sleepover is a standalone novel with no cheating, no cliffhangers, and a satisfying happily ever after. This ebook includes an excerpt from another Loveswept title.

“Serena Bell’s books have heat and soul—a potent combination.”—Jenny Holiday, USA Today bestselling author of the Bridesmaids Behaving Badly series

Sleepover has everything you want in a romance. It’s achingly sweet, nuclear hot, and so smart. I finished it and immediately wanted to go back to the beginning.”—Karen Booth, author of Secrets of a (Somewhat) Sunny Girl

“Serena Bell’s stories are real, emotional, and oh so sexy. Sleepover is one of her best. Elle and Sawyer’s relationship warmed my heart.”—Wendy S. Marcus, author of All I Need is You

“Fresh, entertaining, and a story of personal growth. What’s not to like?”—I Love Romantic Fiction

Don’t miss any of Serena Bell’s delightful romances:

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780425284308
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 11/13/2018
Sold by: Random House
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 212
Sales rank: 225,940
File size: 1 MB

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author and RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee Serena Bell writes richly emotional stories about big-hearted characters with real troubles and the people who are strong and generous enough to love them. A former journalist, Serena has always believed that everyone has an amazing story to tell if you listen closely enough, and she adores hiding in her tiny garret office, mainlining chocolate and bringing to life the tales in her head. When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also of her enormous collection of constantly changing and passionately embraced hobbies, ranging from needlepoint to paddleboarding to meditation.

Read an Excerpt

When I reach the new neighbors’ yard, Jonah and Madden latch on to me like I’m the Pied Piper, even though they already had two cookies each at my house. They know that in all likelihood they’ll be able to sucker Jonah’s dad into giving them two more.

Even though I have Jonah with me, I knock on the front door. The Penske truck is gone—returned, I assume—and there’s a truck parked out front, a Ford F-150 four-door. Trevor used to say he was going to buy a Ford F-150—the two-door model—for his midlife crisis car. Too bad he didn’t buy one instead of sleeping with his ex-girlfriend.
One of these days, I won’t feel sick to my stomach when I think about Trevor’s betrayal. But today is not that day.

I think it hurts so much partly because it wasn’t just “someone else.” It was a very specific someone else, the someone else I’d always been afraid he really loved. It was as if I’d convinced myself the unpleasant events around me were only a bad dream, then realized I was awake after all.

But that was then, and I’m doing everything I can to get past it.

I catch my breath, square my shoulders, and shake it off.

Jonah opens the door and yells over his shoulder, “Dad!”

I can see a narrow wedge of the house, including the staircase, so my first view of my new neighbor is of his bare feet as he descends. Then the hems of his jeans. Then his thighs. Okay, yeah. Mmm. And then—

Even though I really don’t think you can tell that much about what a guy is packing under his jeans—because of the whole bluffer thing—I am staring. And maybe he’s bluffing, but . . .

That’s why it takes me a beat too long to meet his eyes (embarrassing), which is why I hear his intake of breath just a split second before I see his face.

Oh, shit.

My face goes flaming hot, and I’m not sure if it’s from shame or lust.

The guy standing in the doorway is Tall, Dark, and Broody. The Original Tall, Dark, and Broody, as in my rebound sex guy.

Dark eyes. Dark hair. Strong jaw, shadowed with late-day stubble. A body so built he fills my field of vision, a broad chest swelling under a soft cotton T, and those spectacular biceps, which deserve every ounce of Mrs. Wheeling’s praise.

The next set of images are memories, a wash of sensation as vivid as a dream in progress: him looming over me just before his mouth seals mine in a kiss, his body crowding mine against the brick wall of the alley outside the bar, the heat and size and thickness of him like a drug I can’t get enough of. His mouth, tasting of scotch, and his tongue, soft as velvet, stroking all my tender corners so by the end of the first kiss I am already thinking of all the places I want his touch. His callused hand pushing my skirt up, finding and tearing my underpants, his fingers sliding headlong through my slickness, the one he slipped into my core thick enough for me to clench around, but his thumb on my clit still nimble enough to bring me off in the space of ten heartbeats.

It’s possible I make a sound, nowhere near audible enough to be a moan or a whimper, more like a huff of surprise.

“Dad! Dad!” Jonah says. “Can I have a sleepover at Madden’s house?”

Tall, Dark, and Broody’s eyes haven’t left my face.
“Well,” he says. “We meet again.”

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