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In case you missed it, the launch of Cosmo Reads, our brand-new book imprint in partnership with Sourcebooks, is only a month away. We’re celebrating this week by revealing yet another title: One Week Later by K.J. Micciche, to be published on Janaury 20, 2026.
The book follows two writers, who meet each other by chance at an airport and, after spending an extremely sexy week together in paradise, return to their real lives, never to speak again until….We’re going to pause here to say if you think this all sounds pretty formulaic, think again. Micciche deftly weaves humor and heartbreak—as well as some very meta moments about what it’s really like to write romance novels—into her story, which takes multiple unexpected twists and turns that somehow all feel deeply meaningful.
Our heroes, Melody and Beckett, end up publishing dueling novels about their own love story, and the internet is quick to label one the real thing and one a disgraceful copycat. The only way out of the mess may be for the writers to face each other again—and expose what really happened on that island to the world.
See what we mean? Here’s your official first look at One Week Later, including a cover reveal and exclusive excerpt. Pre-order the rest of it right here.
They had one perfect week. Then they vanished from each other’s lives―until his book inadvertently made her the villain.Two years ago, romance novelist Melody Adams and aspiring author Beckett Nash met on a sun-soaked vacation in Aruba. Seven days of stolen moments, midnight swims, and intimate conversations left them both certain they’d found the real thing. Then a tangle of missed flights, mixed signals, and bad timing tore them apart before they could say goodbye. Neither could reach the other―so both assumed they’d been dumped.
And both did what writers do: They turned heartbreak into a novel.
Now Beckett’s debut has made him a literary sensation. Melody’s book? Critics call it a shameless rip-off. The only way to salvage her career―and her sanity―is to reconnect with Beckett and set the record straight. There’s just one problem: Beckett is engaged to someone else. And seeing each other again reminds them of exactly what they lost…and how much they both still want.
Cosmo Reads
Before you dive in, take a look at Beckett and Melody as they take in the sights of their dream vacation and each other:
Cosmo Reads
And now keep reading for a sneak peek at Chapter 1, in which Melody picks up and reads Beckett’s book for the first time and realizes his character Harmony is actually…her. Then find out what happens next by pre-ordering One Week Later.
CHAPTER 1
Names are a curious thing. Fawning young parents deliberate for months—sometimes years—on the perfect moniker for their newborn cherub. After all, what is a name if not a prayer, a petition to the universe of all the hopes and dreams a parent can hold for this new, precious life? One word, a mere collection of syllables, creating a meditation for an entire existence.
Her name was Harmony. She shared the information flippantly, as if it were simply a matter of fact, not a painstakingly chosen word to embody her essence. But her gold-streaked hair gleaming in the endless sunlight spoke a deeper truth. Indeed, from the start I knew she was more than solely the euphony of musical notes pleasing to the ear.
“Interesting name,” I commented, hoping to unearth the narrative of its conception.
“Thank you,” she replied, twisting a loose curl through her fingers. “My mom named me after her first single.”
“Sorry?” I asked, unsure if I understood what she’d said. “Single? Is your mom a musician?”
“Songwriter,” Harmony clarified. “Used to be, anyway.”
“Wow. That’s not something you hear every day.”
She nodded, looking down the beach. The azure ocean sparkled as tiny, clear waves lapped at our bare feet. “Yeah. Have you ever heard of a song called Harmony of a Heartbreak?
“By Harper Smith? The country song?”
Joy emanated from her hazel eyes down her cheeks, which rounded as her lips stretched into a smile. I wasn’t able to recall a time when a facial expression caused my body to clench like that, but I could feel it everywhere: my fingertips became cold, my hands grew clammy, my leg muscles tightened. It was as if I could feel her smile deep in my bones. “Uh huh,” she replied.
“Sure. That song was huge when I was a kid.”
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I searched the depths of my memory to summon the lyrics, but in the moment, I found myself overwhelmed by the subtle scent of oleander carried on the breeze from her hair to my sensory neurons. She smelled like the flower of paradise; it rendered me incapable of recall. I only knew that the connotation invoked an aura of despondent longing.
“She wrote it when she was pregnant with me,” Harmony beamed.
“Isn’t that a sad song, though?” I ruminated.
“Kind of, but not if you know the story.”
I raised my eyebrows, silently encouraging her to elaborate.
“My dad and mom were longtime friends. He played the piano and would accompany her sometimes—depending on the song. Well, I obviously don’t know all the details, but apparently one night, one thing led to another and she ended up pregnant with me. He wasn’t ready to be a dad, and it ended their friendship and musical partnership.”
“I’m failing to see the happy side of this,” I admitted.
“Him leaving inspired my mom to write “Harmony of a Heartbreak,” and it was her first major hit.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, I guess that’s a pretty decent silver lining.”
“Even better was the fact that she said I got the very best parts of him. So, in some way, it’s almost like he’s still around, because of me. Also, my mom and I are best friends.”
“Do you still talk to your dad?”
“Sure, sometimes. Holidays, birthdays, that sort of thing. But for the day-to-day, it’s really just me and my mom.”
I nodded. There was so much I felt compelled to say, but my mouth couldn’t form any words. How was she able to do that to me after only knowing me for just a few hours?
“What about you?” Harmony asked. “Are you here with your family?”
I shook my head. “Nope. It’s just me.”
“Really?” she wondered. “I think it’s scary to travel alone.”
“I guess it can be. It’s pretty exhilarating, though, discovering new places.”
“Do you fly solo often?”
I shook my head. “This is my first time.”
“And? Thoughts?”
He wrote a book about falling in love with the daughter of a songwriter, then went ahead and fell in love with a songwriter in real life.
I didn’t want to admit that I’d been recreationally working on a manuscript for years and was finally trying to finish it in an attempt to pivot from a hobbyist to a professional writer. Here was this effervescent beauty who struck me as intelligent, refined, and wildly out of my league. Approaching her question with unfettered honesty might scare her away like a skittish feline. Would she really want to hear that I’d saved up for months just so I could get to Aruba to clear my head and finally complete my floundering work in progress? Of course not. Harmony would be better off not being inundated with the ramblings of an aspiring novelist.
Writing. I mean, really. Who did I think I was?
If we were being entirely truthful, I was running. Marathon-distance racing away from being home the day after Christmas, somewhere that felt nothing at all like New York, each step propelling me further away from memories that still managed to sting, despite my adult age.
I was running away from his words. Two words in particular: I’m sorry.
Those words shaped everything I’d become ever since he said them.
But I couldn’t share that with Harmony, especially not after just having met her.
Nobody wants to hear about a grown man’s daddy issues.
So for the time being, I’d stay quiet about the details, worrying instead that she’d think I was some self-indulgent wealthy guy who could merely jet set anywhere I pleased on a whim. An idea like that couldn’t have been further from the truth. After a brief hesitation, I settled on, “I like it here.” Short, sweet, and decidedly sincere.
“You like being alone?” Harmony asked.
“I’m not alone,” I corrected her. “I’m with you.”
I shut the paperback and close my eyes, willing away a flood of emotions that threaten to drown me. I pull the covers up over my head and pat the mattress next to me, my palm searching for the worn hacky sack that doubles as my stress ball. My fingers locate it; I squeeze lightly. The well-loved knit shell instantly lowers my blood pressure.
I guess that’s it, I tell myself.
I’ve googled Beckett Nash more times than I care to discuss. I know all about his sudden skyrocket to stardom, his hefty, six-figure advance from Hudson Yards, the movie rights that he just sold to Tri Star. I’m well aware of the fact that Entertainment Weekly said, “Beckett Nash will break your heart worse than Nicholas Sparks’s The Notebook.” And yes, of course I know that his fame has only intensified as a result of dating Analise Renda, the lead singer of the insanely popular all-girl band, Untethered.
According to Rolling Stone, she “really likes to read.”
I suppose it makes sense, Beckett and Analise. He wrote a book about falling in love with the daughter of a songwriter, then went ahead and fell in love with a songwriter in real life. That happens, I’ve heard—the whole life imitates art bit.
Just not for me.
Excerpted from One Week Later, by KJ Micciche, to be published on January 20, 2026, by Cosmo Reads, an imprint of Sourcebooks. Copyright © 2026 by KJ Micciche.
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One Week Later, by KJ Micciche will be released on January 20, 2026 from Cosmo Reads. To pre-order the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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