Playing the Player, an all new smoking hot sports romance from New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy is coming November 8th, but we have the stunning cover!
When a chance meeting with a tall, hot, and obviously wealthy stranger leads to a sexy hookup, can this Cinderella play to win, or will it all end when the clock runs out?
I did not steal JJ Beckett’s wallet. Or his championship ring.
In fact, seeing as I accidentally left my shoe behind, maybe I should be the one crying thief.
But after a one-night stand with the hottest stranger, I’d ever seen?
Well, that was the last thing I was yelling.
Not that I had time to say much of anything–I was already late for work.
The shoe seemed like a small price to pay for a night like that.
The kind of night I could remember while I’m cleaning other people’s rooms; the kind of night a girl like me never dared to dream of.
C’est la vie, right?
Wrong.
Because the shoe wasn’t the only accidental thing that happened the morning after.
Turns out I may have grabbed his stuff too.
Putting it back isn’t as easy as I’d hoped . . . and as he says, no one plays the player.
Getting caught leads to some X-rated tackles that make it all worth the risk.
Now one of us has to make a big play and decide if this game of love has a final score…
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About Erin McCarthy
USA Today and New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over seventy-five novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for high-heeled boots, martinis, and Frank Sinatra. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband (he built her a bar, so it’s all good!) and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.
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Website: https://erinmccarthy.net
“Have a seat, Myers.”
Nerves dance in my stomach, but I do as he says, sitting down on the chair opposite his desk. “I’m sorry.”
Victor looks at me from his computer. “What are you apologizing for?”
“My resume?” I ask. “You saw it? I know I shouldn’t have had it in the office.”
“No,” he says, “you shouldn’t have.”
“I recognize that, and I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” I’m about to start cold sweating beneath my silk blouse.
Victor raises an eyebrow. “Despite how unprofessional that might have been,” he says, “I didn’t call you in for that.”
“Oh.”
He leans back in his chair and looks at me in that full, scrutinizing way he’d done the other day. That’s twice in a week. I bear the full brunt of Victor St. Clair’s intensity, unsure if I’ll survive a third time.
“So you want to quit,” he says.
“No,” I say. “I mean, I might in the future. This has been a terrific job, truly. But I think I’ve learned all I can in this position. I’m thinking of finding another job, one more challenging, so I can continue to grow. But that’s in the future.”
“Right. Well, that’s excellent.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my heart pounding like I’ve run a marathon. His words don’t make sense. “It’s… excellent, sir?”
“Yes. I have a new job proposal for you.”
“You do?” He has never expressed anything but disdain or a complete lack of interest in me. Had I managed to impress him? I do everything he asks of me and a lot more he doesn’t.
“Yes. It’s unorthodox.”
“Unorthodox?”
He braces his hands on the desk. “You know that my grandfather passed a few months ago.”
“Yes, I do. I helped arrange his funeral.”
“Right. Well, he left a will.”
“Oh.”
“A will with certain… stipulations.”
This I understand. “You want me to coordinate with the lawyers?”
The lines of his face deepen. “No. I’ve already tried that for the past half year. They won’t budge.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry.”
His jaw works. “My grandfather’s will stipulates that to gain access to my inheritance, I must be married.”
“Married, sir? Is it legal to include that in a will?”
“I doubt it,” Victor mutters. His hands clench tight around the edge of his desk. “But the old bastard got his lawyers to agree. They filed every loophole available to make sure my inheritance is contingent on my civil status.”
“Wow. I’m sorry, sir. I imagine that’s difficult.”
St. Clair is never going to marry. I know that from working a year with him. Hell, I’d known it after working for him a week. He dated like a tomcat. Over the past couple of months I’d set him up on dates nearly every week.
Not to mention there wasn’t a woman in this world who’d tolerate the long hours he worked. The man had even spent Christmas Day in the office and forced me to answer his emails remotely.
And then there’s the issue of his personality, of course.
“It’s ridiculous,” he says. “But as it so happens, I’ve decided to do it.”
“To get married, sir? To whom?”
“I’m glad you asked, Miss Myers,” he says. There’s a hint of humor in the ice blue of his eyes. “To you.”
“You want me to marry you?”
Victor meets my gaze. I’ve never looked at him for this long before. It’s terrifying. “You want a new job.”
“Not as your wife.”
“Marrying me would get you out of this office.”
“Yes, but not away from you.”
St. Clair blinks once and then his usual scowl breaks, lips curving. Something glitters in his eyes and damned if it doesn’t make me more afraid. “I always knew you wouldn’t last a year.”
My hands curl into fists, nails digging into the meat of my palm. “Six days from now,” I say, “I will have worked for you for an entire year.”
“Well, then you have nothing to lose.”
The man is serious. There are a billion reasons why this is a bad idea, but as I grope for them, I say the first one I can think of. “But you’re not the marrying type.”
The same half curl to his lips. “This would be a marriage in name only, Miss Myers. We would not actually be in a relationship.”
“No. Right. I would never… of course not.”
“You’d be compensated handsomely for your time,” he says. “You’re in quite the bargaining position here, Miss Myers. How much do you want for agreeing?”
“I’m not going to marry you for money.”
“You worked for me for money,” he says, voice dropping. “You already trade your time for money. I’m asking for very little of your time for this contract. Only your name, signature, and one year of not being able to marry anyone else. It’s a far better bargain than the job you’re currently at.”
Victor St. Clair is infamous for driving a hard bargain, and he doesn’t relent until the other party accepts. I know. I’ve listened in on more than one of his negotiations, when he pesters and coaxes and intimidates until the person across from him folds. And then he walks away, victory glittering in his eyes, having doubled his fortune.
I just never expected to be the one on the other side.
“But… it’s marriage,” I say, in a brilliant stroke of verbal genius. “It’s not the same as a job.”
“We can decide it is. Come on, Miss Myers. What do you want?” He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he studies me. “An entirely new wardrobe? A year of traveling around the globe? There must be something you want, more than simply out of your current job.”
“You’re really doing this. You’re buying a wife.”
He snorts. “If I was trying to buy a wife, I’d go online. Plenty of people in the market for a green card. No, I want a contract. I want someone I know, someone I can trust to follow orders, who is organized and reliable. Someone who understands exactly what this is.”
“So you thought of me.”
“Well, you submitted your resume.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Does it matter?” he says. “You said you wanted away from me. Well, you won’t have to work for me anymore.”
I stare at him. “But I’d be married to you.”
“You’d have your own bedroom, bathroom and space in my apartment. Your own set of keys. We’d barely see one another.”
“I’d have to live with you?”
St. Clair’s jaw ticks. “One of my grandfather’s rules. I’m aware of how… unorthodox this is.”
“Who on earth was your grandfather?” I shake my head, his desk turning blurry. “No, sir. I’m not going to marry you. I can’t. I won’t.”
“You can,” he says, “and you will.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“No, it’s up to you,” he says, and I know not to trust him, but I look up anyway. He’s braced his hands on the desk and ice-blue eyes lock with mine. “This is the chance for a new life, Miss Myers. Leave Exciteur. Make enough money from this deal to do whatever you’ve ever dreamed of. If you want no contact with me, I’ll make sure it’s minimal. You’ll be married to me for a year and not a day longer. After all, you’ve lasted one year with me already. What’s one more?”
I stand on hollow legs. His words make no sense, and yet they do, and that’s why I have to leave. Because I know Victor St. Clair gets what he wants.
And he’s not getting me.
“I’m sorry, sir. But I’m not interested.”
“Take the weekend to think on it. We’ll discuss it further on Monday.”
I force the next words out. “No, we won’t. I’m not interested.”
“Of course, Miss Myers. We’ll see where we stand next week.”
I shake my head, more to myself than for him, and head for the door. The bleak, impersonal atrium that is my office has never seemed so welcoming before.
“One more thing.”
I pause, fingers on the door handle. “If you’re asking me to be the mother of your children too, then the answer is no to that as well.”
Silence stretches out. I want to apologize for the words, but I don’t. Because they’re true. Because who is he to demand this of me? He’s my boss.
But he won’t be my husband.
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“Have a seat, Myers.”
Nerves dance in my stomach, but I do as he says, sitting down on the chair opposite his desk. “I’m sorry.”
Victor looks at me from his computer. “What are you apologizing for?”
“My resume?” I ask. “You saw it? I know I shouldn’t have had it in the office.”
“No,” he says, “you shouldn’t have.”
“I recognize that, and I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” I’m about to start cold sweating beneath my silk blouse.
Victor raises an eyebrow. “Despite how unprofessional that might have been,” he says, “I didn’t call you in for that.”
“Oh.”
He leans back in his chair and looks at me in that full, scrutinizing way he’d done the other day. That’s twice in a week. I bear the full brunt of Victor St. Clair’s intensity, unsure if I’ll survive a third time.
“So you want to quit,” he says.
“No,” I say. “I mean, I might in the future. This has been a terrific job, truly. But I think I’ve learned all I can in this position. I’m thinking of finding another job, one more challenging, so I can continue to grow. But that’s in the future.”
“Right. Well, that’s excellent.”
I stare at him for a long moment, my heart pounding like I’ve run a marathon. His words don’t make sense. “It’s… excellent, sir?”
“Yes. I have a new job proposal for you.”
“You do?” He has never expressed anything but disdain or a complete lack of interest in me. Had I managed to impress him? I do everything he asks of me and a lot more he doesn’t.
“Yes. It’s unorthodox.”
“Unorthodox?”
He braces his hands on the desk. “You know that my grandfather passed a few months ago.”
“Yes, I do. I helped arrange his funeral.”
“Right. Well, he left a will.”
“Oh.”
“A will with certain… stipulations.”
This I understand. “You want me to coordinate with the lawyers?”
The lines of his face deepen. “No. I’ve already tried that for the past half year. They won’t budge.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry.”
His jaw works. “My grandfather’s will stipulates that to gain access to my inheritance, I must be married.”
“Married, sir? Is it legal to include that in a will?”
“I doubt it,” Victor mutters. His hands clench tight around the edge of his desk. “But the old bastard got his lawyers to agree. They filed every loophole available to make sure my inheritance is contingent on my civil status.”
“Wow. I’m sorry, sir. I imagine that’s difficult.”
St. Clair is never going to marry. I know that from working a year with him. Hell, I’d known it after working for him a week. He dated like a tomcat. Over the past couple of months I’d set him up on dates nearly every week.
Not to mention there wasn’t a woman in this world who’d tolerate the long hours he worked. The man had even spent Christmas Day in the office and forced me to answer his emails remotely.
And then there’s the issue of his personality, of course.
“It’s ridiculous,” he says. “But as it so happens, I’ve decided to do it.”
“To get married, sir? To whom?”
“I’m glad you asked, Miss Myers,” he says. There’s a hint of humor in the ice blue of his eyes. “To you.”
“You want me to marry you?”
Victor meets my gaze. I’ve never looked at him for this long before. It’s terrifying. “You want a new job.”
“Not as your wife.”
“Marrying me would get you out of this office.”
“Yes, but not away from you.”
St. Clair blinks once and then his usual scowl breaks, lips curving. Something glitters in his eyes and damned if it doesn’t make me more afraid. “I always knew you wouldn’t last a year.”
My hands curl into fists, nails digging into the meat of my palm. “Six days from now,” I say, “I will have worked for you for an entire year.”
“Well, then you have nothing to lose.”
The man is serious. There are a billion reasons why this is a bad idea, but as I grope for them, I say the first one I can think of. “But you’re not the marrying type.”
The same half curl to his lips. “This would be a marriage in name only, Miss Myers. We would not actually be in a relationship.”
“No. Right. I would never… of course not.”
“You’d be compensated handsomely for your time,” he says. “You’re in quite the bargaining position here, Miss Myers. How much do you want for agreeing?”
“I’m not going to marry you for money.”
“You worked for me for money,” he says, voice dropping. “You already trade your time for money. I’m asking for very little of your time for this contract. Only your name, signature, and one year of not being able to marry anyone else. It’s a far better bargain than the job you’re currently at.”
Victor St. Clair is infamous for driving a hard bargain, and he doesn’t relent until the other party accepts. I know. I’ve listened in on more than one of his negotiations, when he pesters and coaxes and intimidates until the person across from him folds. And then he walks away, victory glittering in his eyes, having doubled his fortune.
I just never expected to be the one on the other side.
“But… it’s marriage,” I say, in a brilliant stroke of verbal genius. “It’s not the same as a job.”
“We can decide it is. Come on, Miss Myers. What do you want?” He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he studies me. “An entirely new wardrobe? A year of traveling around the globe? There must be something you want, more than simply out of your current job.”
“You’re really doing this. You’re buying a wife.”
He snorts. “If I was trying to buy a wife, I’d go online. Plenty of people in the market for a green card. No, I want a contract. I want someone I know, someone I can trust to follow orders, who is organized and reliable. Someone who understands exactly what this is.”
“So you thought of me.”
“Well, you submitted your resume.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Does it matter?” he says. “You said you wanted away from me. Well, you won’t have to work for me anymore.”
I stare at him. “But I’d be married to you.”
“You’d have your own bedroom, bathroom and space in my apartment. Your own set of keys. We’d barely see one another.”
“I’d have to live with you?”
St. Clair’s jaw ticks. “One of my grandfather’s rules. I’m aware of how… unorthodox this is.”
“Who on earth was your grandfather?” I shake my head, his desk turning blurry. “No, sir. I’m not going to marry you. I can’t. I won’t.”
“You can,” he says, “and you will.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“No, it’s up to you,” he says, and I know not to trust him, but I look up anyway. He’s braced his hands on the desk and ice-blue eyes lock with mine. “This is the chance for a new life, Miss Myers. Leave Exciteur. Make enough money from this deal to do whatever you’ve ever dreamed of. If you want no contact with me, I’ll make sure it’s minimal. You’ll be married to me for a year and not a day longer. After all, you’ve lasted one year with me already. What’s one more?”
I stand on hollow legs. His words make no sense, and yet they do, and that’s why I have to leave. Because I know Victor St. Clair gets what he wants.
And he’s not getting me.
“I’m sorry, sir. But I’m not interested.”
“Take the weekend to think on it. We’ll discuss it further on Monday.”
I force the next words out. “No, we won’t. I’m not interested.”
“Of course, Miss Myers. We’ll see where we stand next week.”
I shake my head, more to myself than for him, and head for the door. The bleak, impersonal atrium that is my office has never seemed so welcoming before.
“One more thing.”
I pause, fingers on the door handle. “If you’re asking me to be the mother of your children too, then the answer is no to that as well.”
Silence stretches out. I want to apologize for the words, but I don’t. Because they’re true. Because who is he to demand this of me? He’s my boss.
But he won’t be my husband.
About Olivia
Olivia is a twenty-something hopeless romantic who loves billionaires heroes despite never having met one. Taking matters into her own hands, she creates them on the page instead. Stern, charming, cold or brooding, so far she’s never met a (fictional) billionaire she didn’t like.
A voracious reader of romance, Olivia picked up the pen a few years back and what followed was a love affair of her own. Now she spends her days grinning at the steamy banter she’s writing or swooning at happily-ever-afters. Or, to be frank, struggling with writing about herself in third person for the purposes of marketing.
She’s been writing contemporary romance novels since 2018.
They’re all exclusively available on Amazon and enrolled in Kindle Unlimited.
(Phew. Now I can go back to first-person love stories!)
Love and Sins, an all-new prequel novella to dark and angst-filled new adult Love & Ruin Series from bestselling author J.A. Owenby is available now!
Can’t a guy catch a break?
I’m focused on my band and college.
We’re finally gaining a following, and we’re determined to make it
in this industry.
But my past refuses to let me go.
One wrong decision.
One devastating event shattered my soul.
Now, I’m struggling to pick up the pieces and questioning if I’ll be able to move forward.
All while I’m trying to keep my best friends safe from my enemy and my alcoholic father off my back.
With every step forward, my past haunts me.
All I want is redemption and a new start.
But I might be ruined beyond repair.
My hope is dwindling
Until I see her …
Whoever she was had helped me break through my writer’s block. Her quiet strength had pierced my soul. I recognized the pain and fear, yet she’d picked herself up off the ground and faced her ghosts. That wasn’t weakness. That was determination. The same determination I’d had after I lost Kendra.
Chaos slammed into me and caged me in my worst nightmare, the horror of that final day playing through my mind. No! Clenching my hands into fists, I willed myself to focus on reality. I refused to wallow in the past when my future was right in front of me. Whether she realized it or not, that girl was my hero.
Whatever had happened to her was bad, and I had no idea how to break through her walls. But there was only one way to find out.
About J.A.
International bestselling author J.A. Owenby grew up in a small backwoods town in Arkansas where she learned how to swear like a sailor and spot water moccasins skimming across the lake.
She finally ditched the south and headed to Oregon. The first winter there, she was literally blown away a few times by ninety mile an hour winds and storms that rolled in off the ocean.
Eventually, she longed for quiet and headed up to snowier pastures. She now resides in Washington state with her hot nerdy husband and cat, Chloe (who frequently encourages her to drink). She spends her days coming up with ways to torture characters in a way that either makes you want to throw your book down a flight of stairs or sob hysterically into a pillow.
J.A. Owenby writes new adult and romantic thriller novels. Her books ooze with emotion, angst, and twists that will leave you breathless. Having battled her own demons, she’s not afraid to tackle the secrets women are forced to hide. After all, the road to love is paved in the dark.
Her friends describe her as delightfully twisted. She loves fan mail and wine. Please send her all the wine.
This World is just one of thousands of Worlds the Makers have created. The Universe and Makers are playing with those who live on it.
GABRIEL No one who had met Michaela Beauchamp could come away from it unscathed. She was a shrew–argumentative, crass, and the focus of all my wet dreams. I loved to hate her. We were at war and I was determined to win. I didn’t want her to just go away, I wanted to watch her fine ass as she went in that direction.
MICHAELA Whoever thought Gabriel Langdon was more than a pretty face never met the douchecanoe. He had very few redeeming qualities. He was dumb, frustrating, and constantly featuring in all my sexiest dreams. I wasn’t difficult to please. I was reasonable. All I asked was that the Universe bless me with the absence of this jackhole!
THEA What is one to do when you summon a hitchhiker and they take up residence inside your head? No fifteen-year-old girl has a good answer. With my brother and neighbor circling one another in a strange mating dance, I barely know how to ask for help. I mean really, all I did was a little spell to Invoke Helpful Spirits and Positive Energy Beings.
Note: THE DREAM KEEPERS is a mature Young Adult/New Adult book and for readers over the age of 18 due to sexual content and profanity. This is part one of a trilogy and ends on a CLIFFHANGER. This book is rated M for Mischief.
October 2021 – The Dream Keepers February 2022 – Wishcraft October 2022 – TBA
Ali Lucia Sky is the author of The Powers That Be series. She lives in Southern California with her husband and a house full of kitty cats and a yard full of crows. When she isn’t writing, drinking coffee, or dreaming of new stories, she can be found planning her next vacation because traveling is LIFE.
The first book in The Powers That Be series, The Dream Keepers, will be released 11 October 2021.
Authors: Cassie Lee Hart | Elias Raven | Gabriella Messina | Jade Royal | M. Greenhow | Michelle Heron | Taylor Delong
Genre: Short Story Romance
Release Date: October 7, 2021
Publisher: Royalty Writes Enterprises
Cover Design: V Designs
Voyages of the Heart:
Cities around the world, each with a charming allure, pulling you in and allowing you to enjoy their secrets. They offer love, passion, laughter, healing, and even heartache.
This season’s authors have lent their pens to deliver another series of stories to capture your emotions one page at a time. Pack your luggage and join us on our next voyage of the heart. Our next destination: It’s Vegas, baby!
With Love From Vegas:
Nightlife, gambling, and shows. Welcome to Sin City, where all your fantasies can come true. Let these talented authors take you on a romantic journey you will never forget! Broken dreams, changed lives, and your heart’s deepest desires await! Remember, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!
Cassie Lee Hart | Elias Raven | Gabriella Messina
Jade Royal | M. Greenhow | Michelle Heron | Taylor Delong
Age-gap romances between feisty heroines and their possessive heroes? Uh-huh.
Insta-lust? You know it!
Mike “Mad Dog” Teller didn’t want a woman. His wild partying life with the Wet Dicks Motorcycle Club needed zero changes. He was a content man until meeting Cameo Sutton.
Though the sassy young woman puts the older man in his place, she’s only bluffing. Mad Dog is the sexiest bastard she’s ever seen. Of course, she can’t get enough of the tempting hunk.
Enjoy the ride as Mad Dog makes Cameo his woman!
Dirty Bastard is the first book in the Wet Dicks MC series and is only suited for readers 18+.
Christmas, a time for family, cheer and Joy getting her groove back.
It’s nearly Christmas and the Hart brothers and their families are getting ready for another loud, crazy and wonderful holiday. But when they show up at their mother’s house with a freshly cut tree in tow, they’re in for a surprise nobody ever expected.
After losing her husband thirty years ago, Joy Hart raised her four sons on her own, got her doctorate, and became an accomplished sex and relationship therapist. As much as she loves being a nana, a mom, and a mother-in-law, she’s far from dead and wants more in her life. For a long time, she pretended she was satisfied with the flings she had while away at conferences. Love was not on her radar. But a chance meeting with a dashing man has opened this Hart’s heart to new possibilities.
Too bad her sons aren’t on board with the new man in their mother’s life. They’re giving Grant the gears and think he’s all wrong for their mother—for their family. He has no place at their Christmas dinner table, and the Harty Boys are determined to get the dirt on Grant before the timer on the oven says the turkey is done.
Will Brock, Chase, Rex and Heath take things too far and ruin Christmas for everyone with their stubborn, meddling, alpha ways? Or will Grant save the day, save Christmas and prove to everyone that Joy deserves a happily ever after just like the rest of them?
Trigger warning: miscarriage
POV: All (Brock, Krista, Chase, Stacey, Rex, Lydia, Heath, Pasha, Joy and Grant)
**Note: This is the fifth book in the Harty Boys Series. It’s highly recommended to read the Harty Boys quartet first. But not every Hart found their soulmate, so I thought why not give Joy the happily ever after she deserves too? So grab your rum and eggnog, put your fuzzy slippers up, get cozy by the fire and dive into a fun, read featuring your favorite family at Christmas time.
**Note: The political views represented in this book do not necessarily reflect those of the author. This is fiction and characters are given their own thoughts, ideas, morals, ethics, religious and political opinions to make them seem more realistic.
“Hearts will be full. Completely one of those books I will read and re-read again and again. (Nicki ~ The Overflowing Bookcase ~Goodreads Reviewer)
“This is a magical read. It’s fun, it’s entertaining, it’s emotional and it’s full of the Christmas spirit mixed with some heartbreaking moments. I loved everything about this book. I laughed, I swooned and I sighed and I cried. Full Hart really tied this series together and I’m certain I will be re reading all of the books time and time again.” (Jackie Wright ~ Goodreads Reviewer)
“I can’t express how much I loved this book! Grant was perfect for Joy! I love all the characters from this series and their interactions. They can be so funny! It made for a very enjoyable and entertaining book! (Cynthia Hughes ~Amazon Reviewer)
The click of a bedroom door had them all pausing, including everyone on the threshold.
Brock watched the knob turn and the door open.
His heart was in his throat.
Making gimme fingers to his wife, he asked for the gun.
“I’m a better shot than you are,” she muttered, elbowing him out of the way.
Holding his breath and not blinking, he kept his gaze focused on where his mother’s bedroom door was and the whispers filtering out of it. It was two people. He knew that now.
“Mum?” he barked, making his wife in front of him jump, glance at him over her shoulder, and glare.
A head poked out from the doorway, and his mother’s brows furrowed.
Sighs echoed through all of them.
“What the hell are you doing with that, Krista? Put that away right now,” his mother ordered, stepping into the hallway, all four feet eleven inches of her.
“Sorry,” Krista murmured, stowing the gun in the holster clipped to her belt.
Their mother approached. “What is going on?”
“I’d like to ask you the same question,” Brock said, realizing he was still holding the damn tree on his shoulder. He leaned it up against the wall. “Why didn’t you answer us? Why is the house cold, dark, and quiet? Why are the curtains pulled? Whose truck is that?”
Color burned in his mother’s cheeks.
“Yes,” Krista said in what sounded like a hiss. Her smile grew mischievously wide.
Yes?
Brock took in his mother’s appearance for a moment.
She was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a long-sleeved button-up blouse of some light shade of pink. But the buttons were askew, not fastened properly. The shirt was also wrinkled. Her hair was disheveled, too.
Which was so unlike Joy Hart.
The woman was always put together.
For as long as Brock could remember, his mother had tucked her hair up into a no-nonsense bun on the back of her head and rarely was a hair ever out of place. But the bun on the top of her head now looked like it’d been tossed up in haste.
Her lips were also puffy.
And there was a red rash or something on her cheeks.
A throat cleared down the hallway, and Brock lifted his head.
He could hear his mother swallow as he watched a man about the same height and build as himself walk down the hall, buttoning his shirt.
“What the fuc—”
“Watch it,” his mother said.
“Holy crap,” Rayma murmured behind Brock. “Have him stripped, bathed, and brought directly to my tent.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“He’s old enough to be your dad,” Heath scolded her.
“And I’m sure he could help me work through any daddy issues I may have,” Rayma retorted. “And for the record, all y’all burly Harty Boys are old enough to be my father. Hasn’t stopped the fantasies during the dry spells.”
“Rayma!” Pasha admonished, nearly dropping her son as she gaped at her twenty-something sister. “That’s my husband.”
Brock noticed Rayma’s indifferent shrug. “I know, and I’m respectful. It’s not like in my fantasies we’re cheating. You’ve been dead a respectable amount of time, and I’m there for Heath to help him raise the children on his own.”
“You kill me?” Pasha practically screamed.
“This just keeps getting better,” Lydia, Rex’s wife, said with a chuckle.
The man from the hallway with the dark, close-cropped hair, facial scruff, and light gray eyes came up suspiciously close behind Brock’s mother and rested his hand on her shoulder.
Brock’s body turned molten hot.
He heard his brothers grunt and suck in breaths beside and behind him.
Their mother glanced at the man behind her, smiled, and turned back to the rest of them. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Grant.”
A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes. A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.
But when my neighbor and number one menace to my safe plans showed up in Vegas, I did what every adventurous (not!) woman would do.
Takedown, an all-new accidental marriage romance by Evelyn Sola is coming October 29th and we have the dreamy cover!
MELLIE
I was not a gambler. No way. I’ve built an existence free of risk and adventure. From my career to a small life with my closest family. I was not going to do anything to jeopardize my heart. But when my neighbor and number one menace to my safe plans showed up in Vegas, I did what every adventurous (not!) woman would do. I got drunk and married the man.
ADAM
What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas. Then, I went and married Mellie Dupree. That woman I’ve been chasing for two years is now my wife. She claims she doesn’t remember our wedding, but I was there, and I know she’s not telling the truth. Then again, neither am I.
Reserve your copy today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2X1wUrs
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/takedownes
Add to Goodreads→ https://bit.ly/3n9JJuz
About Evelyn
A Boston native, wife, mother, and wine enthusiast. If she’s not writing, thinking about writing, you will find Evelyn with a book in her hands. While a new publisher, she’s been writing for years, and she will continue to write for many years to come.
Evelyn is obsessed with assertive and confident men who will stop at nothing to get their woman. Her stories are filled with love, passion and humor.
She currently lives in Chicago with her husband and two daughters.
Connect with Evelyn
Facebook: https://bit.ly/32Eg2q7
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Bad Cruz, an all-new much anticipated rom com from Wall Street Journal bestselling author L.J. Shen is coming November 10th and we have the cover that will give you all the feels!
From Wall Street Journal bestselling author L.J. Shen comes a romantic comedy that will make you fall in love…or at least stumble your way to it, laughing.
I would say Dr. Cruz Costello is my archenemy.
But that would require acknowledging one another, which we haven’t done in over a decade.
He’s the town’s golden child. The beloved quarterback-turned-physician.
I’m the girl who got knocked up at sixteen and now works at a diner.
He is Fairhope royalty.
I get my monarch dose from tabloid gossip.
He’s well-off.
I’m…well, off.
When our siblings get engaged, Cruz’s parents invite both families to a pre-wedding cruise.
Except Cruz and I find ourselves stuck on a different ship from everyone else.
Cue ten horrible, insufferable days at sea with a man I cannot stand.
(My fault, of course.)
But when the alcohol pours in, the secrets spill out, and I’m left with one question:
Can I take another chance on love?
Reserve your copy today!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3y7hM8u
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/BadCruz
Add Bad Cruz to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3AVtPYs
Cover Designer: Bailey McGinn
About LJ Shen
L.J. Shen is a USA Today, Washington Post and Amazon #1 best-selling author of contemporary, New Adult and YA romance. Her books have been sold to nineteen different countries.
She lives in California with her husband, son, cat and eccentric fashion choices, and enjoys good wine, bad reality TV shows and catching sun rays with her lazy cat.
Connect with L.J. Shen
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Website: http://www.authorljshen.com/
Jingle Bell Hell, an all-new awkward meets sexy rom com from New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank and USA Today bestselling author A.R. Casella is available now!
She’s a sexually repressed control freak. He’s a muscular ex-con with heavier baggage than Santa’s toy bag. They’re everything each other never wanted.
Mary
I’m usually the first person on my block to decorate for Christmas. This year? Humbug.
My six-year-old son, Aidan, just had a meltdown after learning some hard truths from a drunk Santa impersonator, and I can no longer deny we both need help. Change is hard for Aidan, and right now he’s dealing with several big ones, including A) his father abandoning us, B) our move to Asheville, and C) the Santa snafu.
And me? I’m a control freak, and my life is more out-of-control than a sled on ice.
That’s why I agree to let Aidan join Butterfly Buddies, a group that matches kids with adult mentors.
It’s also why I agree to a mentor of my own—terrifying, pink-haired Nicole, who wants to help me live life on the wild side. Her advice is strangely compelling, especially after I meet Aidan’s new “buddy,” a gorgeous tattooed hunk of a man who makes me wish there weren’t cobwebs in my…well, you know.
*********
Jace
Mary O’Shea is sexy as hell, but she doesn’t know it.
She also doesn’t know I’m an ex-con, and if she finds out that I served three years in prison, extenuating circumstances won’t matter to her.
The last thing I should do is get attached to her kid…or her, but I didn’t get in this position by making good decisions.
Grab your copy today or read FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2W9Leha
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/JingleHell
Add Jingle Bell Hell to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3gn0vSL
Excerpt
Jace reaches toward my face, and my heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest as his fingers near the soft flesh of my cheek. When he tucks an escaped lock of hair behind my ear, I almost melt into a puddle.“You’re a good mom,” he says. “And you were probably right. It might not be a good idea for Aidan to get too attached to me, and me to him, given that you and I are attracted to each other.”Shock roils through me. It’s as if I’ve opened my eyes and found myself on a different planet, where the ground is as solid as a bounce house and left is right and right is left.No, it’s not possible.I gawk at him, taking in his sparkling eyes, the golden ends of his hair, and that short beard that shouldn’t look good, but oh God, it looks really good…“Did you just say…?” I start.It’s then that Aidan bursts through the door, holding something in his hand. He thrusts it out in front of him, scrunching his nose. “Did you get me this, Mom? It came in the box with my game. It was in a container, but I took it out.”Shock renders me mute and still, like a pillar of salt. Especially since I can feel the intense scrutiny of Jace’s eyes. There’s no way Aidan knows what he’s holding, but Jace must know.No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening.The vibrator wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Why would they pack it with a children’s board game?A twisted sense of humor? A lack of reasonable bathroom breaks in the warehouse?Aidan waves the bright pink vibrator around.“There’s a little rabbit on it. Is it some kind of toy for Christmas? The package says it’s a magic wand that’s supposed to make people moan, but they spelled magic with a k, and it didn’t come with a spell book or anything.” He pulls a face. “I guess I can just use it with the Harry Potter spells. It does vibrate like it’s doing magic, and it can whirl in circles too.”A short laugh sputters out of Jace.My face is so red, it might as well be a fire truck. Magik wand. At least the name offers a reasonable explanation. For a six-year-old. God help me, I can’t bear to look at Jace. I make a grab for the vibrator, but Aidan evades me.“Why’d you get it in pink, Mom? You know green’s my favorite color.”Jace clears his throat, but nope, I still can’t look at him. He’s not laughing anymore, but I know he probably wants to. Who wouldn’t? If he did feel some sort of passing attraction to me before this, he certainly doesn’t now.“Aidan,” Jace says slowly, his voice husky. “There are toys for adults too. That’s probably something your mom got as a treat for herself, although I’m sure she’ll get you a Harry Potter wand for Christmas if you want one. Let her have it.”Aidan does, which is what I wanted, but then I have a vibrator in my hand.I think for a moment and then stuff it into my bag. The tip instantly pops out, unmistakable.What is happening to me?“It must be some kind of mistake,” I say, finally forcing myself to meet Jace’s gaze. “I didn’t order this. I wouldn’t…”I thought I’d see laughter there, because he’s only human, but all traces of it are gone, and now he’s looking at me like I’m the last slice of birthday cake at an office birthday party. No, like I’m the first.
About Denise Grover Swank
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in her own mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.
Connect with Denise
Facebook: https://bit.ly/3gLPdF2
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About A.R. Casella
A.R. CASELLA is a freelance developmental editor by day, writer by night. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, two dogs, and a variable number of fish. Her pastimes include chasing around her toddler, baking delicious treats, and occasional bouts of crocheting. Any Luck at All, co-written with New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank, is her first book.
