Release Day: Forever Your Heart by Mary Whitney + Book Trailer and Excerpt

There's something about reading a male's POV in a romance that can make a novel even more wonderful; and trust me, you don't want to miss Adam's because it does!

Forever Your Heart (The Heart Series #3)

by Mary Whitney

I’m a journalist—Adam Kincaid, BBC reporter, to be exact, so I’m not going to bury the lead. I’m about to see the woman I never got over.

I know that because I’ve been back in America for years now, and I still don’t date American girls. My dad would say I’ve come to my senses, sticking to my own British patrician kind, but that’s crap. Mum, the psychologist, would more wisely say it’s my unresolved issues around Nicki. My teenage years are long behind me, yet my guilt over her remains. So I’ve avoided all things Nicki, though the irony is she’s the one avoiding me.

Maybe if we see each other, we can both move on. Could she ever forgive me? Can you forgive yourself when you hurt someone you love?

But please, don’t answer yet. I’ve jumped ahead of the story, and as a reporter, I should give you more background to get to the root of it all.

So let me tell you my story. Then you can be the judge.

NOTE: While this is the third in the series, it can EASILY be read as a standalone book.

On Saturday night, fate must have been at work, because I got my chance. David had taken a late flight from New York that evening. The reason for the trip, a meeting with the SEC, wasn’t until Monday, but he’d flown in early for a football match. Sometimes we played five-a-side on Sunday afternoons. The matches were great fun—as long as David didn’t have a hangover and play like sh*t or get in a fight because he’d hit on someone’s girlfriend.

The prospects of a Sunday morning hangover for David were high that night when he demanded that we go out for tapas. His favorite tapas place was a restaurant in Adams Morgan that had plenty of black-haired beauties who went there for the dancing. Neither one of us could dance a salsa to save our lives, but we made the most of the bar.

When we walked in, the place was crowded, and the music loud. I ignored the dance floor at the back and instead scoped out the bar to see if we could find a seat. I was about to nudge David over to an open spot when I heard him say, “Well, it’s been a long time, but I’d say that’s your bird.”

“What?”

“Over there. Dancing. With that short-arse.”

As soon as I focused on the dance floor, I saw Nicki. There she was, in a slinky green dress, dancing with Juan Carlos f*cking Jimenez. They were laughing as he spun her back and forth in his arms. Her dress clung to her body, showing it off nicely. When they switched to moving their hips together, Juan Carlos looked straight down at her pelvis with a leer. There was no doubt about it. The man was thinking about having sex with her, and I wanted to kill him.

“Those are some nice moves she has. I like the hip action.” David chuckled. “Looks like her partner is thinking the same thing as me. Got some competition there, Adam.”

“F*ck you.”

Motioning to the dance floor, David retorted, “No. F*ck her. Before he does.”

“He already has,” I said, feeling the heat rise on the back of my neck. “That’s her boyfriend, Juan Carlos.” I hated saying the words. Watching Nicki act so happy and carefree with him made it even worse.

“Juan Carlos. Huh.” Never afraid to size up the competition, David gave an appraisal. “He’s a handsome son of a bitch. Still short, though.”

“So is she.”

“But you said that Nicki’s keeping everything about you two quiet, right?”

“Yes, for the most part. But she told him.”

“Doubtful she shared everything. And a bloke like that wouldn’t feel threatened by a childhood boyfriend. That’s good. Work it to your advantage. You’ve gotta get in there, mate. Dance with her.”

“Salsa? Are you kidding me?”

“Wait for something slow.” David shook his head disapprovingly. “It’s a miracle you ever had a shag without me.” Then he snickered. “Though it’s been a while…”

That deserved a slug in the arm, but the music changed to something softer, and David patted my back. “Sorry, Cuz. Forget about what I said. It’s time to make your move.”

At once, I looked over to Nicki. Overheated from the dancing, she fanned herself and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Juan Carlos had his goddamn hand on the small of her back. It appeared that he was asking to dance again, but she shook her head no.

“Now’s your chance.” David nudged me forward. “Don’t worry. I’ll cover you.”

Even before she graduated from law school, Mary knew she wasn’t cut out to be a real lawyer. Drawn to politics, she’s spent her career as an organizer, lobbyist, and nonprofit executive. Nothing piques her interest more than a good political scandal or romance, and when she stumbled upon writing, she put the two together. A born Midwesterner, naturalized Texan, and transient resident of Washington, D.C., Mary now lives in Northern California with her two daughters and real lawyer husband.