A breakup on the way to a Fourth of July getaway was supposed to be the end for Merritt and Ben until a strange accident sends them five years into a future neither of them remembers. No longer together and surrounded by lives that have shifted in unexpected ways, Merritt and Ben must piece together what went wrong between them and their once-tight friend group. As old feelings reignite and hidden truths are exposed, the past and present collide in ways they never anticipated. Readers who enjoy heartfelt second-chance romances, stories with emotional time slips, and a love that refuses to fade will devour Five Summers from Now, a steamy new romance from Michelle Dayton.
Purchase at Your Favorite Retailers!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/4ssbvRO
iBooks: https://tinyurl.com/43ndtrpr
Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/4zw8nzsv
KOBO: https://tinyurl.com/5ykxf8rr
Google Play: https://tinyurl.com/3jc863m3
Tule: https://tulepublishing.com/books/five-summers-from-now/#order
They were supposed to spend the Fourth of July weekend with their closest friends—fireworks, laughter, traditions. Instead, Merritt Sullivan and Ben Samuels broke up on the drive to the lake, before the first spark lit the sky.
But after a strange accident on the dock, they wake up to find that everything’s changed. It’s five years later. They’re no longer a couple. Their friends’ lives have shifted in ways they never saw coming. Careers, relationships, even loyalties have rearranged—some for the better, some painfully worse. And neither of them remembers the years in between.
Forced to navigate a future they don’t recall, Merritt and Ben must work together to understand what fractured not only their relationship, but their entire friend group. The only way back—if going back is even possible—is to face the heartbreak they once tried to outrun.
As old feelings resurface and new truths come to light, they’ll have to decide: is the future worth keeping…or worth rewriting?
Excerpt
Copyright 2026, Author Michelle Dayton
Tears formed and slid down my cheeks. I dashed them away with one hand, silent, not wanting to break the spell. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben’s right hand jerk in my direction as if he wanted to touch me, needed to touch me, but then realized he shouldn’t.
Oh, to hell with it.
I reached over, grabbed his hand, and pulled it to my heart. I bent my head and pressed my lips to it. He’d said his brother’s name to me, for the first time ever.
A broken sound escaped his mouth at the feel of my lips on his skin. The next thing I knew, he was pulling me into his arms, the tight confines of the car be damned.
He pushed the driver’s side seat back, settled me onto his lap sideways, and held on to me for dear life, panting into my neck.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, winding my arms around his neck and stroking through the hair on the back of his head. “It’s okay.”
I closed my eyes and breathed him in, the Downy fabric softener and chlorine scent of my Ben. His arms tightened around my waist, and I let myself luxuriate in his embrace. God, I hadn’t felt this safe in ages. I’d been so angry with him for so long. Even when we hugged, it was perfunctory and quick. I hadn’t let myself cling or need him. Hadn’t let him hold me or need me.
I’d taken his hand because he needed comfort. We both did. This was his body’s response to my earlier apology. He didn’t have the words, so holding me like this was his way of showing me he forgave me.
But now, the embrace was changing for me. It was becoming about need. All about need. I needed to feel his chest expand and contract, needed to feel his breath against my bare neck, needed his hands tugging on the strands of my hair.
I was suddenly hot all over, despite the air-conditioning. It’d been so many months since he’d touched me, and even if this embrace was simply in the spirit of forgiveness and comfort, my body was responding in a very not-PG way.
“Merritt,” Ben whispered.
I pulled my face back, brushing my cheek against his on my way to eye contact.
He stared up at me, at my mouth, his pupils expanding and obliterating the blue. When I sucked in my bottom lip, he groaned in the back of his throat. “If you don’t want to be kissed, you better get the hell off my lap.”
Instead, I gripped the seat behind his shoulders and used it as a brace as I twisted my body upright and carefully brought my right leg over to straddle him.
Later, I’d probably kick myself for this. Escalating things with Ben at this moment made about as much sense as the defeat of the aliens in Independence Day, but common sense didn’t stand a chance against the desire in Ben’s eyes, my racing heart, and the singing sense of rightness in my veins every time his mouth was on mine.
Ben’s body was taut with restraint as he waited for my right knee to find purchase on the seat cushion between him and the door. The very instant my weight stabilized, he cupped the back of my neck and drew my face to his, claiming my mouth.
About Michelle Dayton
There are only three things Michelle Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an adult beverage.
Follow: Facebook | Instagram | TikTok | Website | Goodreads | BookBub | Amazon
