Today we have the cover reveal for Truce? Hating Elijah Monroe by Amelia Kingston! Check it out and be sure to pre-order your copy today!
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Day: October 1st
About Truce? Hating Elijah Monroe:
A small town enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy. Harper Delaney is a newly certified elementary school teacher with the mountain of student loan debt to prove it. Moving back to her claustrophobically small hometown is about as tempting as two week old sushi, but the allure of free rent and a guaranteed summer teaching job are undeniable. On the hunt for her dream job in San Francisco, Harper just needs to survive the summer without murdering Elijah Monroe. He may have grown into a scorchingly hot fireman, but he’s still her nemesis. Harper gave Elijah her heart when she was sixteen, and never forgave the jerk for not wanting it. Probably for the best, since he's also her stepbrother. Elijah still makes Harper’s blood boil and heart race. And he knows it. She’ll wipe that smug smirk off his gorgeous face before leaving town. The only question is if she wants to do it with a kiss or a slap.
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Exclusive Excerpt:
My heart drops into my stomach and a weird little squeak leaves my throat when I realize who it is. I might legit need CPR. He was cute as a boy, but he’s drop dead gorgeous as a man.
He’s not a man. He’s the devil. The bane of my adolescent existence. My stepbrother.
I drag my eyes up to Elijah’s face. He looks put together and mature in a way that I’m not prepared for. His hair is the same warm brown, but now it’s cut short and tidy. He’s clean
shaven, making those full lips pop. Lips which are curved up into a familiar smug smirk as his bright green eyes sparkle with devious satisfaction. He caught me checking him out and he wants me to know it. He struts across the parking lot, shoulders back and chest puffed up. He’s the same pompous jerk I remember from high school, breaking hearts and causing trouble.
I look around the school yard and everyone has turned to watch the spectacle. The kids are all ogling the firetruck. The teachers and assistants are all ogling Elijah. I can’t control my groan. I cross my arms and scowl at him.
He’s still a few feet away when I snap, “What are you doing here?” I’m loud enough half the playground can hear me. My happy teacher persona is a distant memory. I’m an angry, frustrated sixteen-year-old again, fighting the magnetic pull drawing me to him. Was it always this strong? Doesn’t matter. I’ll never give in to it.
“Nice to see you too, Short Stack,” he quips, crossing his arms to match me.
“Enough with that stupid nickname already. It’s been almost a decade. Grow up, Elijah,” I fume. “Plus, it doesn’t even make sense.”
He looks down at the ground, trying to hide his smile. He loves winding me up. And I fell for it. Now I’m more annoyed than ever.
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