When two strangers meet in a bar that exists for only a few magical hours every two years, their lives become entwined across time. Every Other New Year’s Eve by Michelle Dayton is a poignant exploration of love, fate, and the moments that refuse to fade. Readers who enjoy Rebecca Serle and Ashley Poston will fall head over heels for this steamy, friends-to-lovers, magical realism romance.
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The point of magic is not to understand it. The point is not to waste it…
Paige Larsen is riding high on her future when she drops into a bar on New Year’s Eve 2019 for a celebratory drink. Will Weber, too, is excited about his life’s direction. Despite clashing personalities—and unexpected physical attraction—they quickly become friends while grooving to 1970s music in this unique joint.
But when Paige and Will each try to find the bar the following day, they realize the night was even more magical than they believed. It seems this bar appears for only a handful of hours every two years in an abandoned city lot on December 31. What’s more, Paige and Will are living in different timelines two years apart.
Over a span of eight years and a multitude of life changes, Paige and Will connect deeply in a fantasy situation that allows them to be their messy, imperfect, vulnerable selves.
Then suddenly, the enchantment—and the bar—disappear for good. Can love offer the magic they need to create a real-life happy ever after?
Every Other New Year’s Eve is a tender, heartwarming romance with a magical twist, perfect for fans of Rebecca Serle and Ashley Poston.
Excerpt
Copyright 2025, Michelle Dayton
“I miss kissing,” she blurted. Under her hands, Will’s shoulders leaped an inch, like she was scaring him out of his skin. “Sorry.”
Will did not relax. Pressed against her on the dance floor, from chest to toes, she could feel how tense and tight he was. Experimentally, she squeezed his shoulders, willing him to loosen. His eyes fluttered shut, like the brief massage felt good. When he opened them again, his pupils had expanded, darkening his blue eyes almost to black.
Oh.
Her breath caught in her dry throat, and she licked her lips. Oh. Now she felt the drumbeat between them. A thready pulse of . . . oh wow, was it lust?
Their gazes caught, held.
She fought a sudden urge to press her face into his neck and taste his skin with her tongue. Yeah, oh yeah—it was lust.
She wasn’t exactly shocked. She’d admitted at the NYE countdown two years ago that Will was a kissable guy. And that was when he’d looked so much younger, puppy-like. Now he was a more mature, carved version of himself. Too skinny by a long shot, but without any roundness or hair, she could really see him. His noble cheekbones, long nose, broad jaw. Topped with those blue eyes, always radiating sincerity and kindness. There was no way to ignore how arresting he was.
The breathless stare went on for another beat. They had lingered too long in the moment now to pretend it was anything other than what it was. Paige had forgotten how powerful these magnetic connections could be. How undeniable. They both knew what the thickness in the air between them meant.
Paige was positive that any second now, sweet Will would flee for the safety of the bar.
Instead, he cocked his jaw slightly and rasped, “I miss kissing too.”
She went numb in her knees.
He lowered his gaze and focused on her mouth. Paige rose on her toes. Her breathing had gone shallow, and there was a fluttering sensation in her chest. She couldn’t even hear the jukebox anymore.
Will lowered his face until it hovered just a breath above hers. “Can we?” he whispered.
“I want to,” she said hoarsely. “But I don’t know if it could mean anything.”
A ghost of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Right now I don’t know who I am or where my life is going tomorrow. And you’re in your own mess, I think. All this kiss would mean is that we want the comfort of each other. An escape.”
He grew bolder, sliding his hands from her hips to the small of her back. “I don’t know if anything counts in a mystical little pocket outside of time anyway.”
It felt so good to be closer, to feel his body—the strength of his hands, the broad, hard line of his shoulders. She slid one hand to the nape of his neck and dropped the other to the back of his belt and tugged. “You’re right.” She scraped his neck with her fingernails. “Kissing in this place would be like kissing in a dream.” No consequences.
Behind them, at the bar, Sam rang his bell and announced that it was almost midnight. The crowd began to shout the countdown. “Ten!”
Ah, perfect timing. As soon as she heard ‘One! Happy New Year!,’ she would plant one on him.
Will did not wait.
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.
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