B.K. Borison is taking us back to Baltimore for another Heartstrings series book and this time we’re following everyone favorite’s meteorologist, Jackson. We’re definitely predicting tons of swoon-worthy moments and lots of chemistry. Oh, and did we mention that it’s also a love letter to one of our favorite rom-coms, When Harry Met Sally? Basically, we’re not going to get enough of this!
Cosmopolitan has an exclusive look at B.K. Borison’s And Now, Back to You, which is set to be released on February 24, 2026. The book follows Jackson as he works with his biggest rival, Delilah Stewart, to cover a huge snowstorm that is set to hit Baltimore. But cold weather brings the ultimate cozy vibes and the two meteorologists have to figure out whether or not there could be something more between them. Here’s some more info from our friends at Berkley:
Two competing meteorologists are forced to find common ground in this opposites attract, When Harry Met Sally inspired romance, from #1 New York Times bestselling author B.K. Borison.
Jackson Clark and Delilah Stewart have had their fair share of run-ins over the years, often ending in disaster. While Jackson thrives on routine and organization from the comfort of his radio booth, Delilah loves the spontaneity and adventure out in the field. When they’re partnered against their will to cover a historic snowstorm, they find themselves scrambling to figure out how to work together.
Eager to be taken seriously as a journalist, Delilah offers Jackson a deal: If he can help her ace this assignment, she’ll help him rediscover his long-lost fun side. With unexplored chemistry burning beneath their clashes, the unlikely partnership quickly tumbles into an easy and surprising friendship.
But when other feelings start to enter the equation, can Jackson and Delilah withstand the storm? Or does what happens in the mountains stay in the mountains?
“Like First-Time Caller, And Now, Back to You is lightly seasoned by a Nora Ephron classic. It begins with a car ride between two people who don’t know each other very well and from there, the story finds its own path. For some reason, fate has brought Jackson and Delilah back together time and time again,” B.K. told Cosmopolitan. “Maybe on a trip to the mountains, they can finally figure out why. I personally think Jackson makes an excellent Sally.”
And now, you can meet Delilah yourself and it seems like her and Jackson are brewing quite a storm together. Check out an exclusive excerpt below and make sure to pre-order And Now, Back to You so you can get your love report ASAP.
An Excerpt From And Now, Back to You
By B.K. Borison
Read by Max Meyers and Brittany Pressley
I lie face down in the middle of the hallway on top of Delilah Stewart, my pride somewhere on the floor with my coffee.
“Hello, Delilah.” I sigh, trying to figure out if anything is broken or just badly bruised. My glasses are nowhere to be found. Everything is blurry smudges of color.
“Hello, Jackson.”
She sounds defeated.
“Always a pleasure.”
Beneath me, Delilah snickers. “Something like that,” she says, her voice low and sweet. A laugh, caught somewhere behind her teeth.
Well, I’m glad one of us finds this funny.
Delilah squirms, somehow managing to knock me in the groin and the solar plexus at the same time.
“Please,” I groan, directly into her ear. She smells like my light roast coffee and something sweeter. Strawberry jam, maybe. “Please stop moving,” I beg.
She immediately stills and I drop my forehead to her shoulder. I can’t breathe, and I can’t stand up if I can’t breathe.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“Trying not to die,” I wheeze.
She huffs and wiggles again. One hand pats at my rib cage. “There, there,” she says awkwardly. “Easy does it.”
I snort a laugh and some of her hair flutters around my face. Delilah Stewart, Human Disaster, strikes again. Somehow we’ve found ourselves stuck in a loop with each other. Every time I see her, something inevitably goes wrong. We’re the opposite of magnets, blasting away as soon as we enter each other’s forcefield.
She gives me another pat, then drops her hands to her side.
“I would appreciate it,” she says, her voice muffled, “if you removed yourself from my person now.”
I press up on my knees with no small amount of effort, a heavy grunt at the base of my throat as I steady myself with my hands planted over her shoulders. Without my glasses, I can only see her vague outline. Smudges of color against a pale white floor.
Chestnut brown. Ruby red. Deep emerald green. She must still be wearing her turtle suit.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispers.
“Like what?”
A hand flutters in front of my face. “Squinting.”
“I can’t see without my glasses,” I grind out, grunting when her knee hits the inside of my thigh. I almost go down again. “You know. Those things that are always on my face.”
“Oh.” One arm presses above her head, her elbow glancing along my side. My shirt is wet and sticking to my chest but all I can focus on is the places we’re touching. My knees, pressed between hers. The inside of my left wrist, brushing against her hair. This is the closest I’ve been to a woman in six months, and naturally, it’s Delilah Stewart. In the middle of the newsroom floor at the local television station. In the world’s most uncomfortable game of Twister.
Breaking News: Local Man Makes Fool of Himself with Woman Dressed as Turtle.
I’m my worst self with Delilah, and it’s entirely her fault.
“Here,”she says, fingers easing the frames over my nose. She holds them there with her thumb between my eyes, then gives me a bright smile. Now I can see every detail of her face beneath mine. The collection of freckles on either side of her nose. The slight gap between her two front teeth. Her long hair, spilling out beneath her on the floor.
“There,”she says. “Good as new.”
I blink at her. “These are my favorite glasses.”
“And they look great.”
She removes her hand and they tilt crooked. One half of her is blurry, the other in focus. Her hand snaps back into place, holding them steady.
“I can fix them,” she whispers.
“Please don’t.” I’m not interested in whatever that nightmare brain cooks up next. I replace her hand with mine, holding the glasses against my face.
I shift to the side and leverage myself up, extending a hand to help her. She ignores it, crawling up slowly after me instead, using the wall for leverage. She has a giant coffee stain in the middle of her turtle-clad chest, one side of her hair wet at the ends. I have a stain, too, slowly spreading across my abdomen.
We stand there in the corner of the bustling newsroom, staring at each other. No one pays us any attention, and I have to wonder: How often is Delilah tackling people to the ground?
“So,” she says. “What are you doing over here?”
When I stare at her blankly from behind my broken glasses, her cheeks flush pink. “I usually see you in the parking lot,” she explains. “Not in the middle of the station.”
“I have a meeting.”
She stops trying to wring the coffee out of her hair. “Here?”
“Not in the hallway, no, but at this station. Yes.”
She frowns. “With who?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” I reach into my wet pocket and pullout the half-crumpled note that was left on my desk at the radio station. Delilah plucks it out of my hand. “Help yourself,” I mumble.
“YBAL offices,” she reads.“Ask for Keith.” Here yes close in defeat as she slaps the note against the middle of my wet chest.“I think I know where your meeting is.”
“Where?”
She points wordlessly at the half-ajar door no more than two feet away. I glance at it.
“Great,” I say slowly. “Thanks.”
I move toward it and Delilah follows. I stop abruptly at the threshold and she bumps into my back.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I’m still holding my glasses to the side of my face. “Want one more shot before we go our separate ways?”
“Fun as that sounds”—resignation firms the corners of her mouth—“I have a meeting too.”
I point at the door. “In this room?”
She nods. “Yup.”
“With me?”
“It would seem so.”
A prickling sense of awareness creeps up my spine, itching between my shoulders.
I’m not going to like whatever happens in this office. I know it.
“If you have a meeting, why were you walking in the opposite direction?”
“Because I wanted to spare myself the humiliation of sitting in a business meeting dressed as a tortoise.” She gestures at her coffee-stained chest. “Clearly, that’s no longer a concern.”
We linger at the doorway playing the world’s most awkward game of chicken.
“Are you going to go inside?”
“I’m really not sure,” I answer. “I’m considering climbing out the window, actually.”
She snickers. “I think it’s too late for that. Our fate is sealed.”
Fate. It rattles around my skull and plunks down to land somewhere in the middle of my chest. A marble in an empty soda can. A tuning fork, vibrating at a frequency I can’t hear.
A silly thing, for silly people. I control what happens. Not some mystical force.
“Says who?” I ask.
“Says me.” Maggie appears in the doorway. Her eyes flick briefly to where I’m holding my glasses together. “You’re late.”
“I thought our meeting was at the station.” Our station. “I’m here now.”
“Yes, and with quite the stunning entrance.” Her face remains impassive, but delight shines in her catlike eyes. They cut in Delilah’s direction, softening slightly. “Do you need a minute before we get started?”
Delilah shrugs. “It can’t get much worse, can it?”
Excerpted from AND NOW, BACK TO YOU by B.K. Borison, published by Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2026
Audio excerpted with permission of Penguin Random House Audio from AND NOW, BACK TO YOU by B.K. Borison, excerpt read by Max Meyers. B.K. Borison ℗ 2026 Penguin Random House, LLC. All rights reserved.
And Now, Back to You, by B.K. Borison will be released on February 24, 2026 from Berkley. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
AMAZON AUDIBLE BARNES & NOBLE BOOKS-A-MILLION BOOKSHOP APPLE BOOKS KOBO LIBRO.FM TARGET WALMART POWELL'S BOOKS HUDSON BOOKSELLERS GOOGLE PLAY EBOOKS.COM
