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Beyond The Page & $25 G.C. Giveaway: “Almost Married” by Roe Valentine

Jan 27
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Today it’s my pleasure to bring you an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from Roe Valentine’s novel,


There’s a $25 gift card giveaway and 2 eBook copies of her novel up for grabs.

Good luck 🙂





Realist, Dr. Carla Harris, believes that people create their own fate, through hard work and careful planning. She believes in playing things safe. But, while preparing for her upcoming nuptials sheís forced to confront the most reckless thing sheís ever done, her estranged husband, Jacob.

Idealist Jacob Moreau believes in soul mates, as much as he believes in saving endangered companies. When his long lost wife reenters his life seeking a divorce, he is convinced more than ever they are meant to be together. And he will doóand loseóanything to have her again.

She thought she had her life planned to perfection. He thought they made perfect sense together. Would marrying Jacob be the craziest thing sheís ever done, or divorcing him?



He sighed, doing his best to remain calm as he sat in his high-back leather executive chair. He leaned back, elbows resting on the wooden armrests and his hands clasped in a steeple. His eyes trailed down the long line of her slim pinstripe pants and to her shiny red heels.

She was sex on heels in an Armani suit, and more than that, she was his estranged wife—through no fault of her own. Those stripe-clad legs walked over to the chair directly before his large granite desk and sat with a single fluid motion. She practically floated into the chair and crossed her right leg over her left.

The white lace top underneath the pinstripe jacked and vest dipped down and exposed velvety tan skin. A solitaire diamond flashed at her throat under the harsh lighting. Her deep coffee-colored eyes lifted to him, and only a blind man would miss the sudden blush of her checks.

“Excuse my brusqueness and the debacle outside your office, but I must get to the point.” Her full lips curved with every syllable. He could still remember the curves of her mouth; nothing changed there.

“Okay then.”

She frowned. If she’d been wearing glasses, he could imagine her adjusting them right about then. Her hands worked against her as she placed them in her lap, then in her hair, then on the metal arm rests. They took center stage in their own finger puppet show and he couldn’t help but be amused. She spoke in a small, restrained voice. “The fact of the matter is we are…”


She grunted. “Yes, married. See, I can say it.” Her eyes shot over his desk and grabbed his gaze with defiance. She shook him up with that look. The fingers twisting in her long waves then fell to her lap as her back straightened. She appeared more confident, and he liked it.

“I’m glad.” He watched her parted mouth. It sent streams of raw energy through his body, especially when her tongue flicked out to lick her lips.

“Don’t you think there is something wrong here?” she asked without expressed judgment—it was a simple question. She may have well asked if the sky was blue. She was much more level-headed than he thought she’d be once she realized they were married in Vegas ten years ago. But what made him anxious was wondering what she intended to do about it.

“Yes, I do. For one, you’re not quite what I expected.”

“Oh?” Her left eyebrow arched. “What did you expect?”

“That you’d be much…angrier.” He was careful with his word choice.

“Anger is not a useful emotion, especially when there is a task to accomplish.” He frowned. It wasn’t quite the response he expected from her.

He chuckled. “And what is this task?”

She didn’t flinch at his amusement. “To legally end the marriage, of course. What else?”

He winced. Those words reverberated between his ears.

Her top leg uncrossed and the other hooked over the opposite knee. A chunk of long wavy hair fell over her right shoulder. If she wore a seashell bra and sprouted a fin, she would look like a mermaid. His eyes lingered over her bare ankles and then drifted to her toe cleavage. When he’d first met her, she wore flip flips and here she was outfitted in red Louboutins. Saying she wasn’t quite what he expected was an understatement. Perhaps he expected her to flop into his office in a micro jean skirt and tank top. He didn’t know if he liked this new, refined Carla.

“Why didn’t you contact me about the marriage? I really had no idea until recently.” Her voice finally slipped from the polite to the annoyed category.

Why? The question shouldn’t have been so hard. It’s not like he avoided it. He ran a hand through his hair and drew in a long breath, though he wouldn’t describe it as cleansing. The pained look in her eyes made him flinch. Her full lips pressed into a thin line and she waited, watched him with her dark eyes, for an answer.

All he could come up with was, “I wish I could give you the answer you want.”

“What answer would that be?” Her eyes were empty again and her mouth partially open. The AC kicked on in that moment and he could smell her vanilla perfume trail through the air. God, she smelled good.

“You’re always shooting back questions.”

“Am I?” she asked, face deadpan.

His index finger pointed to her. “There! You see. A question.”

She stumbled over her response. “It must be the psychiatrist in me.”

A head doc? “Our future MD turned out to be a psychiatrist, huh?”  His lips loosened to accommodate his grin.

“You seem disappointed.”

“Not at all,” he said, leaning back in his chair again. “Psychiatrist…neurosurgeon…it could have gone either way.” You’re an ass, Moreau. He cringed after the words slid out of his mouth.

She shifted in the seat, the handbag swung from the back of the arm rest. “I’m not good with blood.” She rolled her eyes.

“You’re pulling my leg.” He laughed, though she didn’t.

The perfectly crafted eyebrows knitted together as she frowned. The conversation wasn’t going as planned, and he knew talking in circles wouldn’t deter her from finding out the answer to her question for much longer.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” she said, her eyes grabbed his. She demanded his undivided attention and he gave it to her without a fight. “What can we do about our…situation?”

He steepled his hands again, elbows on the desk. The cool granite shocked his skin as he leaned forward. “What do you propose?”

“A divorce, of course,” she said quickly. It would seem she didn’t want to consider any other options.



Roe Valentine picture

Roe Valentine was born into the right family. Not only does the name Valentine suit her, but her grandmother, unknowingly, introduced the young Ms. Valentine to her first romance novel. She hasnít read anything else since. She calls herself a romantic at heart and believes that love conquerors all.

The San Antonio native, who now lives in Houston, attempted to write her first contemporary romance novel when she was nineteen years old. That attempt didnít take, but her story has a happy ending. She kept pursuing the dream until she landed her first publishing contract. Almost Married is her debut novel.

When not busy writing or reading love stories, Roe can often be found in a yoga class or chatting with friends at her favorite coffee shop. Enjoying margaritas with some girl-talk isnít unusual for her either. For a night in, she watches reruns of her favorite TV shows and, of course, romantic comedies on her Roku, usually with a glass of wine.

Roe Valentine also LOVES talking to readers.


Facebook  | Twitter @RoeValentine | Goodreads  | Website  | Email: info@roevalentine.com


2 e-copies of Almost Married by Roe Valentine

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