In super exciting news, bestselling author J.C. Cervantes – yes, you know her from The Storm Runner series – is writing a YA romance for the first time and we are HERE FOR IT! Flirting with Fate is described as Jane the Virgin meets The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and it has family, floods and falling in love! Read more and don’t forget to scroll down to see the cover and read an exclusive preview excerpt.

Ava Granados will never forgive herself for being late to her beloved Nana’s deathbed. For generations, blessings have been passed to the women in her family upon death, but due to a freaky flash flood that left Ava in a fender bender with a mysterious boy, she arrived seconds too late to for Nana’s blessing—instead, all she gets is the wash of regret on her sisters’ faces.

Until Nana pops up with a challenge from beyond the grave. As it turns out, Nana did give Ava a blessing, but it missed, landing with the boy from the night of the storm. If Ava can’t straighten out the mistake, Nana will linger as a ghost forever, which she’s not exactly excited about. To help her on her quest, Ava will have her two older sisters and Nana’s rather bumbling spiritual guide, Medardus, who is, of all things, the patron saint of teeth.

For solitary Ava, being asked to befriend some random boy is the last thing she wants to do. She’s gotten along just fine being wary and protecting her heart; keeping people at a distance is a great way to ensure no one ever hurts you. But as Ava and the gang embark on their mission to retrieve Nana’s blessing, she starts to wonder if what she might gain by getting close to thunderstorm boy is worth the risk.

With a book that sounds that good, an amazing cover is a must, and this BEAUTIFUL cover delivers!

And you can read an exclusive excerpt below:

Flirting With Fate by J.C. Cervantes

The rain pounded unrelentingly.

And then, one mile from the house, the one thing Ava didn’t want to think about, the one stupid word that plagued everything in existence popped into her head: Destiny. If Nana were in the front seat (refusing to wear a seat belt) she would tell Ava to quit fighting, that Fate had played her hand. And won. But Ava refused to believe she wasn’t in control of her own life.

Wiping a tear with the back of her hand, she pressed her foot against the gas with more force. It was exactly 8:51 p.m.

The Jeep hydroplaned.

Ava braked, skidded, fishtailed before she righted the vehicle.

Too late to see the brake lights in front of her.

There are moments that define people’s lives, moments that are wedged in between before and after, then and now, here and there. And some of those moments are balanced precariously on the steep precipice of what if.

Suddenly and without expectation, the storm ceased as if the collision had consumed the echoes of thunder, had swallowed the wind, had cast out the lightning and rain.

It took several breaths for Ava to realize that the impact sounded worse than it was. She was okay—the airbag hadn’t even deployed.

In the headlights, she saw a white guy hopping out of the truck she had hit. He looked around Ava’s age. Tall, loose-fitting jeans, unkempt hair, angular nose, defined jaw, and big feet. He wore a fierce glare, the kind that seemed capable of scaring a happy-go-lucky puppy.

Ava jumped out of her car. “What’s wrong with you?” she cried, indignant. “Why were you just . . . sitting there?”

The guy scowled. “See the big red octagonal sign? It means stop.”

Ava wanted to choke him. Twice. Hadn’t he ever heard of a California stop? Roll and go? “I don’t have time for this!” Her voice escalated as she realized she was wasting time arguing with a sarcastic someone she already didn’t like.

The guy started in on how Ava should watch where she was going, and then his dark eyes caught hers, locking her in place. She felt a drop in her stomach just as his thick eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh, um . . . you’re crying. I . . . uh . . . look, you didn’t even dent my truck. It’s all good.”

“It’s the rain,” she said, wiping the tears away. No way was she going to snivel in front of some stranger who didn’t know how to drive. Correction: he didn’t know how to stop.

But then he said, “Hey, are you okay?”

The dam shattered. Ava broke down sobbing, telling him her nana was dying at this very minute, and the harder she tried to shut up, the more her mouth kept churning out words. “And now I’m late all because of you, and if I miss saying goodbye . . .”

He looked terrified, and was urging Ava into her car before she could blubber another word. “You need to go,” he said. “Are you sure you can drive?”

Still sniveling, Ava nodded her head, closed the door, and took off. When she looked in the rearview, the guy was standing in the middle of the road, his truck headlights shining behind him, hands in pockets, watching her drive away.

Forty-five seconds later, she turned down the secluded cul-de-sac and pulled through the long driveway’s wrought iron gates. By the time she made it to the backyard casita, everyone was gathered around Nana’s bed: Dad, Carmen, and Vivienne, who strangely looked away when Ava entered.

Nana was sitting up, wide-eyed, gripping a pillow, rocking back and forth as she repeated Ava’s name over and over and over.

“I’m here,” Ava cried, rushing over.

As if no one else was in the room, Nana’s eyes alighted on Ava, and with great effort, she rasped, “No . . . can’t be.” Then she grimaced, squeezed her eyes closed, and said, “Meteors, stars, 8:51. Collision. And the hummingbird. ¿Me escuchas?”

Ava’s throat tightened. She wanted to tell her nana that yes, she heard her but that she wasn’t making any sense, but what did it matter now? Ava merely nodded.

The old woman broke into a coughing fit.

Ava’s dad reached for the glass of water on the nightstand, but Nana waved him away, gesturing for Ava to sit on the edge of the bed.

A rumble of thunder shook the house. The sky unleashed a greater fury than before.

Nana grasped Ava’s hand, gripping it with surprising strength, tugging her closer.

“Ava . . . you are . . . you are . . .” Her voice was broken by another, more violent bout of coughing.

“It’s okay,” Ava told her, stroking her forehead. “Don’t try to talk.”

Urgently, Nana tightened her grasp. She held her granddaughter’s gaze, silent and unwavering. The lights flickered. A window blew open. “You are . . .”

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