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

“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

“Bell is a new-to-me author, and I adored this story. There were so many parts that had me laughing out loud and a couple that had me swiping at my eyes. It was hard not to fall for Sawyer. . . .  Elle . . . was a heroine who resonated with me. Then there were the kids, who made the story!”—USA Today’s Happy Ever After

“I enjoyed this title from Serena Bell. Every time I read something from her, I tell myself I need to be reading more from this author. This story is sweet and at times sad, but it captures a good bit of what it takes to move on from big life changes, and I loved that about the story.”—Red Hot + Blue Reads (five stars)

“You want to know the question I asked myself the minute I finished reading Sleepover? Why haven’t I read more of Serena Bell’s books? I’ve only read one other of her books and I absolutely loved it. I felt the same way about Sleepover. It was charming, delightful, darling, clever, and amusing.”—A Novel Glimpse (five stars)

“Sleepover is sweet and comical with a little sizzle added in.”—Hine’s and Bingham’s Literary Tryst (five stars)

“An enjoyable hybrid of sugar and spice.”—Library Journal

 “This was one of my favorites from this author, it had an emotional depth that surprised me and left me moved, and characters who felt real to me and were very easy to find a connection to. Definitely a can’t-miss read! I highly recommend this one. It’s good for the heart and soul!”—Reds Romance Reviews

“Bell has always been an excellent scribe and here she’s at her best. . . . It’s a gift of a book.”—All About Romance

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

“This is the first book I’ve read by Serena Bell, and I can definitely say that it won’t be my last. I absolutely loved everything about this story! It was sweet, it was heartbreaking, and it was sexy.”—The Little Bookworm

“One of the best, most emotionally satisfying contemporary romances I’ve read this year."—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

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.”