Hello ,

I'd never even heard of a *bespoke* book edition until this past summer, but I love the concept. I think of bespoke as a fancier, more romantic version of a special edition.

I'd also never heard of book plates. I now understand they're stickers designed for an author to sign. That way the author--namely me--can send out signed book plates if you already own my book.

Of course I ordered some and they're on their way now!

Turns out you can always learn new things about the book business even after too many years to count! 💜

Surprise! I'm sharing TEASER #2 from Lucky Puck with you today! Check it out below ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Update on the Stephanie Queen Romance Books Shopify Store :

We made big progress this week, but it's not quite ready. I want everything to be as perfect as I can make it for you.

The store will be ready next week with a special introductory coupon EXCLUSIVELY for you! ❤

Also, check out my featured romance author and some featured book deals below! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

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At SQ's House

The bathroom remodeling still isn't finished.

Big surprise, I know. I promise next week I'll have the final "after" picture. I swear!

In the meantime, the long-awaited special bespoke edition of The Cheerleader arrived! ➜➜➜➜

It turned out spectacularly! (IMHO)

Okay, I know I'm bragging. Sorry.

The dust jacket is foiled and there's a ribbon bookmark and illustrated end-papers that I designed myself.

So that's why I'm acting like a proud momma, or like a baker serving up a beautiful cake, proud of how it turned out.

I didn't get the sprayed edges, but I'm okay with that.

I hope everyone who gets my cake book, finds it tasty enjoyable and pretty!

Have you bought any Bespoke Special Edition books? What special enhancements do you like best?

Foil Covers or Sprayed Edges?

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If you enjoy my books, please join my team!

➜➜➜ Join the SQ Team on Facebook Here!

It's the next best thing to an in-person book club!

We talk about books and whatever else grabs our attention. I share covers and contests and some behind the scenes writer stuff and you share what you're up to.

I'd love the chance to get to know you better!

💜

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Work-in-Progress

LUCKY PUCK - a hockey rom-com

Word Count Goal: 75,000

Current Word Count: 11,483

Percentage Complete: 15%

I'm pushing the release of this book up to mid May.

Doing the math, I'll need to write an average of 2,000 words a day.

I'd been having trouble deciding on the opening scene, switching it back and forth between two alternatives multiple times, but I finally figured it out just this morning! (I love when that happens!)

So now it's clear sailing writing!

You Can Pre-Order Soon - Exclusively at Stephanie Queen Romance Books for the pre-order price of $2.99!

Once it's released, the regular price will be $4.99

Teaser #2 from Lucky Puck

Bianca

Feeling more like a skanky private eye or a lowly snoop than a high-powered agent at the famed Jett Agency, I follow Brody and the lady he’s with. She looks a lot like a showgirl who just stepped off the stage wearing a barely there dress and more make up than an entire Macy’s cosmetic counter. Exactly his type.

They’re laughing and I cringe when she plucks a drink from a tray and hands it to him. He takes it and I heave a breath hoping he doesn’t down it like he did the last one. Never mind that he’s not legal drinking age—that’s bad enough—but I’m more worried about the fact that he has a game tomorrow. His rookie year All-Star game to be exact.

I hang back far enough away, pretending to be part of a clutch of people I don’t know chatting about something hockey related, so that I can’t hear what they’re talking about. It’s the only reason my conscience will allow me to follow him at all. I tell myself it’s not really snooping if I’m not eavesdropping.

When they move again, I move, and when I realize they’re heading for the exit to this Vegas circus-sized party, I pick up my pace until I catch up with them at the bank of elevators that go to our hotel rooms. Shit.

Stopping short with my heart beating too fast—either because it’s a strain for me to dash around in heels and a cocktail dress or because I’m worried about what to do about the showgirl—I gather myself and try to act like I’m here coincidentally as I reach them. Up close, I can see that she’s clearly too old for him, but that’s true for almost everyone at this party since he’s barely twenty years old. But this woman has to be a dozen years older, much older than I am. Either that or maybe showgirls age three years for every one year of a woman in another line of work—any other line of work.

As they stand at the elevator she leans into him, putting her hands all over that superbly toned body and goal scoring machine. Watching it gives me a jolt of possessiveness, as if I’m personally responsible for his well-being.

But then again, according to my boss, Hamish Jett, I am exactly that. His immortal words to me were, “If anything happens to him, even a scratch, or one bad word of press or negative incident, it’s on you, Brooks.” He calls me by my last name like I’m a player. I’m used to it.

Squaring my shoulders, I saunter closer to where they stand, around a few others waiting for the elevator and put on a party smile.

He speaks first, “Bianca, you calling it a night too? What a party, eh?”

I eye the show girl as I stand at his side, opposite her. “Typical Vegas,” I say as if I would know. It’s my job to appear worldly and all-knowing to my clients. At least according to all the sages in the business.

He nods. The showgirl titters and moves in closer.

“You going to your room? So am I. I’ll ride the elevator with you.”

He raises his brows. Maybe my words didn’t come out quite right. “I meant I’m going to my room.”

The lady looks me over and laughs. “It’s okay if you’re looking for a threesome. Are you?”

If her laugh wasn’t so derisive, I’m sure my cheeks wouldn’t suddenly feel like I’ve been branded by my panino-maker.

He suppresses a smile and tells his showgirl, “Come on now, baby. Leave Bianca alone. She’s my agent and she’s a damn good one.” His smile softens the censure, but when he turns to me, his look is all serious intensity.

He nods. “Sorry about that. No disrespect meant.”

Now heat of another kind surges through me in a way I have no business allowing.

Because my relationship with the hockey boy phenom of New England is strictly business. Big business. The kind of business that a lot of competing agents would love to have and might go to great lengths to get.

Ham gave me this assignment to accompany our prized client to Vegas because he couldn’t do it himself. Ham is about to become the proud father of twins any minute now.

I can’t let him down—aka mess up so badly that I get myself fired.

If I mess up enough to give another agency an opening to steal away his business, I wouldn’t just get fired—my reputation would be destroyed and I wouldn’t get another job in this business for decades.

I’d end up back in Littleton, New Hampshire with nothing but broken dreams and a Pepperdine Law School diploma in talent management that would be about as useful as the placemat at my family’s local diner where I’d end up working.

I take possession of him and say I’m in charge of him, he’s mine and I’m going up with him.

A small crowd spills into the area and I turn, clinging onto Brody and trying to block him as someone flashes a picture.

Then all hell breaks loose with dozens of phones raised for photos and videos and as soon as he elevator doors open, we jump on and I block the door to prevent anyone else.

Using my room key for the elevator, I breathe a sigh of relief as we escaping the mob. It’s just me and Brody on the elevator. No showgirl.

“I apologize for breaking up your fling with…” I wave a hand, having no idea how to refer to her. I never got her name.

“No worries.” He wears a devilish smirk. It’s the kind of look that spikes a girls deeply imbedded survival instincts, makes her fear about her personal safety—and simultaneously excites the crap out of her to the point of making her tingle all over. Not me, though. I’m too professional for that. Those aren’t tingles I feel. That’s just my brain buzzing.

I’m a serious professional, not the kind of girl drawn to the kind of raw animal charm guys like Brody Holden possess in barrel loads.

We ride the elevator in silence and when we get off at our floor, I stop short and he nearly runs into me. His showgirl is waiting outside his room, leaning on the door, playing with the key card. He’d given her his dam room key.

Shit. This isn’t good.

And there’s not a dam thing I can do about it.

Or is there?

Pre-Order Special coming soon at shop.stephaniequeen.com.

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SQ Books Featured Review

Playing the Game - a steamy sports romance

"Playing the Game is an exciting read! The characters are flirtatious and edgy. They sizzle together! The plot pulls the reader in with them as they resolve deep seated issues about what's important in life... the story is extremely satisfying in the end. LOVED it!"

--Stella, Amazon Reviewer

READ NOW ON KU!

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Stephanie Queen’s Featured Authors

Our Final Takedown - Vi Summers

Can the UFC fighter win back the girl who broke his high school heart?

Cameron Pearce broke me the day I left high school. For my own good, she’d said. 

So I moved on with my life, with women, and with my UFC career. 

All it took was a fated crossing in Downtown Miami for a decade's worth of craving to come rushing back. It had me reaching for her again. 

And that kiss that caused the media storm…?

That was just the beginning of my fight to win her back.

READ FOR FREE!

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Stephanie Q’s Featured Book Deals

FREE BOOKS WITH BOOKSWEEP

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KOBO PLUS BOOKS!

BOOK BOYFRIENDS!

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Thank you for reading this newsletter. My Shopify store is coming soon, although it's taking longer than expected, and I'll have a special deal for you, in addition to the pre-order deal for Lucky Puck.

I would really love to hear what you think about the 2nd teaser for Lucky Puck, so please send me an email and share.

In the meantime, enjoy the new longer, lighter days! 😘 💜

Warmest Regards,