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Walking away from Sam Rutherford was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

It’s been five years since that day, and I’ve given up on looking for love. My focus is on my career. And it’s paid off—I’m successfully managing the reelection for the mayor of New York City.

Then Sam walks into my office as the new legal counsel. Which means I have to see him every single day from now until November. We vow to remain professional, but it’s a small office. The sly glances and his blistering charm are unavoidable.

It all feels so familiar. Too comfortable. After what happened the first time…I should know better.

If I’m not careful, he’ll break my heart all over again.

And I don’t know if I can survive Sam a second time.


EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: The Lying Season

K.A. Linde

Expected Release Date: 4 February 2020

An angsty new second chance office romance is out this week from author K.A. Linde, and I have a sneak peek for you.

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Excerpt

I hesitated on the threshold to my apartment building. I’d had just enough to drink to feel bold. My hand was still on his suit. I should pull it back. I should walk away. I didn’t. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Were you jealous tonight?” I whispered, looking up at him with a flush on my pale cheeks.

He froze at the words. And I thought I’d pushed him too far. Asked the wrong question in the middle of our fine evening. But I couldn’t get Court’s words out of my head.

“Yes,” he said in surrender.

“Because I was talking to other guys?”

He nodded once. My fingers curled in on his suit. I shouldn’t. Bad Lark would. She would drag him inside right then and there. But I couldn’t. I had to resist.

“Why?” I asked, forcing my fingers to release his suit and fall back to my side.

“You know why.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that I do.”

He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it. I didn’t think he’d answer at all. He’d just turn around and walk away. But he didn’t.

Instead, his hands came to my hips. Those long, callous fingers dug into the silk of my dress. A peep escaped me at the feel of him touching me. Really touching me. Like he hadn’t done in so, so long.

I could barely think, let alone speak, as he walked me two steps backward. My back hit the brick wall of my building. My chest heaved as I glanced up into those depthless eyes. And I saw my mirror in them. Our bodies were pressed tight together. The scrape of the brick against my back was the only thing that reminded me that this wasn’t a dream.

“Sam,” I breathed. Not sure if I was telling him to stop or not.

But he didn’t say a word. Not one. As his lips crashed down onto mine.

I gasped in shock and want and desperation. So much need. My lips parted. His tongue devoured. And every movement, every touch, said, Yes, yes, yes. He tasted like whiskey and smelled like leather and new books and fresh soap. He was pure eroticism to my starved body.

My hands buried into his dark hair, dragging him closer, kissing him harder. Tasting him, wanting him, needing him. Our bodies knew this dance. We’d performed it many, many times back in Madison. It was like remembered choreography, achingly familiar and full of passion.

Then, the world crashed back down on me.

I brought my hands down to his chest and pushed him back from me. Just an inch. Just enough to breathe.

“I can’t,” I gasped out. “I can’t. It’s not…it’s not fair.”

Sam dropped his head backward. A sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes as if he was in pain. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

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