Brilliant heroines.
A woman who is the best at her job, who measures the room before she walks into it, who never apologizes for being smarter than the men around her.
Motorsport romance for women who have watched Drive to Survive eleven times and are not going to apologize for it.
Maeve Cross writes contemporary motorsport romance with grown-up heat, brilliant heroines, and heroes who have been quietly in love for years before the heroine ever notices.
— the editor · Spring 2026
She came to romance late, by way of Drive to Survive, an ill-advised dive down a Lauren Asher rabbit hole, and one specific October Sunday at the Circuit of the Americas in 2023.
What she wanted to read was not on the shelf. So she wrote it.
Chicane is the first book in her Kestrel Racing trilogy — a 95,000-word debut about an F1 chief engineer, the team principal who has been quietly in love with her for four years, and the secret he made to her dying father a decade earlier.
She is American. The men she writes are, somehow, almost always Irish. She lives in Charleston, South Carolina, with too many books, an unreasonable opinion about Eau Rouge, and a vintage Rolex Submariner she does not wear.
Book Two — Apex — is out now. Book Three — Pole Position — closes the trilogy fall 2026. All three in one calendar year.
Some things about her that have nothing to do with the books — and a few that do.
I write heroes who have been quietly in love for years before the heroine ever notices.
A woman who is the best at her job, who measures the room before she walks into it, who never apologizes for being smarter than the men around her.
The hero has been quietly in love for years before the heroine ever shows up. Obsession that earned itself. No insta-anything.
Four out of five. Praise + worship register. Plot-integrated. Consent on the page. Aftermath every time.
You will close every book of mine knowing the two people on the last page are still together. That is the contract. I do not break it.
F1 paddocks, Charleston kitchens, Monaco balconies, MIT engineering benches. Specific places. Real textures. No fantasy footing.
Sloane Kincaid has spent ten years telling herself she is over it. Over her father’s death at Spa. Over the man who was leading the lap. Over Formula 1.
She is also the best engineer of her generation. And when Ronan Callahan, the man she has sworn to destroy, offers her chief-engineer-of-Kestrel money, she takes the job for one reason: to watch him lose.
What she doesn’t know — he has been in love with her for four years.
Fake dating. He has been quietly in love with her for two years. She agreed to eight months of staged photographs to save her career. Neither of them is going to come out of it intact — and there is a brother’s letter waiting in Abu Dhabi that will undo them both.
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Second chance. Rival teams. Championship year. They were nineteen and twenty-two at a karting school in Modena. They have not spoken in eleven years. He has carried her photograph in his wallet to every Grand Prix; she has carried his in the inside pocket of her work jacket. The race that ends the trilogy decides who has been carrying whom.
Save the date →
The forty-one-second voicemail Michael Kincaid leaves Elena in Chapter 33 was the first scene of Chicane I wrote. Everything else was built around it.— Maeve, on the writing of Book One
A bonus chapter — the morning Sloane Kincaid walked into Kestrel HQ in May, told from his side of the desk. Three thousand five hundred words. Yours when you join the letter.
Press, podcasts, Q&As, BookTok, foreign rights, audio, film & TV, reader mail. One inbox — I read all of it.
ask@maevecross.comBookTok and Bookstagram reviewers — pre-launch ARC list opens 8 weeks out.
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