Rose Alton had her future all planned out: excel at her career, find love, make a family and get rich. Then she got fired. Now after years of 90-hour work weeks she’s living out of her car and struggling to hold it together. Convinced she’ll turn it around any day now, keeping up appearances is her highest priority, but when Manny Reyes, her sister’s friend and drummer of the band The Lonely Kings, discovers her deception her secret is out… or so she thinks. To her surprise, Manny offers to keep her secret and invites her to Kauai, where he grew up and where the band is shooting their latest video. Rose hates to be anyone’s charity case, but with nowhere else to go and needing a vacation she reluctantly accepts and is whisked away to the island paradise. Rose soon discovers Manny isn’t like anyone she has ever met, rock star or not, Instead of preferring lavish hotels, fine dining, and parties until the break of dawn, when not on the set Manny prefers eating Spam, playing for change, and smoking out with the local hobos on the beach. But there's a dark secret lurking on the island, one that plagues Manny, even when he's on the other side of the ocean. As the heat between Rose and Manny builds, Rose begins to realize that there are some times when you need to break the rules...and that the only thing you can't plan for is falling in love...

Torn apart, Sadie tries to decipher Malcolm's final words to her. But when she finally seeks out the answers to her lingering questions, she comes face-to-face with the very man who threatens Malcolm's future--and her own. In a life or death struggle, can Sadie overcome her fears and save both Malcolm and herself? EXCERPT: Exhausted, my eyes swollen from crying, I leaned into him, and he kissed me, so sweet and soft I thought I would shatter all over again. He carried me down the stairs, just as he did when I couldn't walk on my own, and when he washed me in the bath, this time he let his hands and fingers linger on me, in places I once thought he might never touch again. First, he ran warm water from the faucet and filled it part way before turning it off and setting me on my feet in the tub. “Kneel,” he commanded. I complied, turning my back to the faucet, my legs trembling. I bent my head in submission, giving him complete access to me, and I was rewarded with a warm gush of water over my back from a soft sponge. Gently Malcolm ran it in circles and spirals over my back, around my ribs, down over the flare of my hips. Then he abandoned the sponge entirely and used his hands. There was an urgency to his touch this time, a swift, anxious nervousness, as though he were trembling on the precipice of remembering something very important, as though words that could change his life stood at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said. His hands swirled down and around the round cheeks, slipping into the valley between them, gently massaging away the paint. Again he picked up the sponge and gushed warm water over me, this time over my shoulders, so that rivulets ran down my collarbone, trickled over my breasts and fell from my nipples like raindrops from branches. The whispery caress of water flowed through me and in me, and I shuddered with desire...

Starving artist Felicia Dare hates rich men. As far as she's concerned, they're all absent, philandering jerks who care more about money than people. And she should know. Her own father is a millionaire.Or was. When he shows up on her doorstep and tells her he blew the GDP of Africa on bad investments and failed businesses, Felicia knows he's getting what he deserves. Except that's not all: her mother is sick, and he can't afford the payments for her treatments. He has a backer to save his company, but there's one catch: Felicia must marry him!A modern woman, Felicia balks at the implication that her hand can be bought, and she sets out to give this backer a piece of her mind. But there's more to Anton Waters than money and power, and when they come face to face, Felicia realizes that saying no to his proposal may be harder than she thought!This bargain-priced bundle is the complete collection of The Billionaire's Wife series, 77,000 words of drama, romance, and red hot BDSM sex! EXCERPT:All that progress was turned back now, and I was back in the same place I had been in before I'd left home.I shook my head. "It's not like they beat me or abused me or something," I said. "They just weren't great to have around. And now they're around again. I can't get away."Anton pushed away from the door and came to stand in front of me as I shucked my coat from my shoulders and laid it over the nearest chair. "I don't think that's true," he said.I tried not to roll my eyes at him and failed. "Oh yeah?" I said. "Well, you aren't me. I'm not you. I can't just command everyone to do my bidding with a word and a glance of those come-hither eyes.""You think I have come-hither eyes?" he said, amused."Don't push it," I told him.Anton smiled, real and genuine, not his Zen smile. He was amazing when he smiled. "You do have power, Felicia," he said. "You only have to learn to use it."I shook my head. "I don't know how."His face softened. Without warning, he reached out and pulled me to him. I stumbled, startled, against his chest, my hands coming up to brace myself, but the sensation of his hard body against the palms of my hands had me pausing, lingering, savoring.His fingers trailed over my back, up my arms, and I listed into him, tilting my head back.He gazed down at me with intense, green eyes, fixated on my lips. His hands slid up and up, until he cradled my head in his hands. A thumb alighted on my mouth."Your voice," he said. "You must use your voice. Speak and make yourself be heard."His other hand abandoned my face, slipping down my arm and coming up to cover my fingers where they lay against his chest. "And if people will not listen to you, you must do what you must. Use these hands. I've seen your art—there is power in you. Build your own life, Felicia."Tears stung my eyes. How could he say such things to me? I had been coerced into marrying him. Nothing was mine any longer.He seemed to read my mind, or perhaps my thoughts were plain on my face. Leaning in, he rested his forehead against mine."I am not the enemy, Felicia. I am your companion, as you are mine. I may have... acquired you in an unconventional way, but I wanted a wife. And you acquired me in the bargain."I closed my eyes. My heart hurt in my chest, as though it had been rubbed raw.Anton drew me closer, and I felt the stirrings of his arousal against my belly. I inhaled sharply."You can say no," he said. His voice vibrated in my skin, in my bones. "You always have the last say. I'll not be a rapist."I swallowed, hard. "I don't want to say no," I said. "Please, just make me come." Wipe it away. Make me forget for a little while."Gladly," he breathed...

Full-figured librarian Chloe Banks has had a bad day - her fiance left her for her best friend, she lost her apartment, all her money has mysteriously disappeared, her boss won't stop dogging her, and to top it all off she's cornered by an angel-faced vampire in the rare books room. The vampire, Gabriel, is a little worse for the wear after spending the last hundred years interred underground but now that he is free he needs blood and little help navigating the modern world. What he gets is a genre-savvy woman with a body that he can't keep his hands off of, and Chloe, despite nursing a broken heart, can't deny the primal attraction between them. Is she prepared to trust her body--and her life--to a vampire, if only for a night? Dead Man's Curves is a 19,500 word erotic novelette for readers who like a little blood, a little revenge, and a secretly chivalrous vampire who lusts for lush, full curves. EXCERPT: Long, possessive fingers slid down over one large breast, cupping it gently, his thumb finding a nipple through her clothes. She wore a gray v-neck sweater over a smart white blouse, but his touch was so potent it she would have sworn she could feel every ridge of his fingerprint on her flesh. Blood rushed to follow his touch, and Chloe fought to keep her eyes from closing as he lifted her breast up, pushing a soft swell of cleavage past the edge of her blouse. “A meal fit for a king,” the vampire murmured. Then he lowered his head and bit her breast, like Adam taking his first bite of the apples of Eden. Pain flashed through her, as sharp as the stinging stab of a needle, and her breath caught— —and then she was floating. Sweet numbness spread through her veins, radiating out from the point of contact of the vampire's lips. The breath gusting from his nose was cool, but the inside of his mouth burned like a pyre. He swirled his tongue over the wounds he had made in her flesh before probing them in order to coax more blood from her body. A lance of pain speared through her heart, but it was far away, happening to someone else. The sudden desire and heady, flying euphoria, however—those were very immediate. Those were happening to her. His head, bent to her breast, hovered close to her mouth and nose, and she could smell his hair as flyaway strands brushed over her lips. Faint scents teased her, of dried rose petals and old patchouli, vetiver and cloves, but under those flavors, welling up and threatening to overwhelm them, was the rich loamy smell of wet earth. The smell of a grave, she thought faintly, but then thought became impossible as he began to move insistently against her, his hips picking up a primal rhythm, though all the while his mouth drained her dry. Flames licked up and down her body. Wherever he touched her, she threatened to ignite. His cock now pressed into her hip, as hot as a sword fresh from the blacksmith's forge, and one hard, sinuous thigh had snaked its way between her legs, propping her up and rubbing against her aching core. Her hips thrust of their own accord, grinding herself into his leg. She wore a straight tweed skirt and tights, and the rough texture of decaying fabric scratched over the tender flesh of her inner thighs...

Artist Sadie MacElroy has landed a sweet gig as the personal assistant to her best friend, Felicia Waters. Despite her scattershot creative nature, she's a whiz at organizing, planning, and ordering people around. But her sweet gig turns sour at a charity art auction she's organized when she bumps into a stage lackey and sends a 17th century Qing Dynasty vase crashing to the ground. Electing to take the fall, Sadie attempts to arrange payment of the vase to its owner, eccentric billionaire and (extremely) amateur artist Malcolm Ward. But Malcolm doesn't care about the money or the vase; inspired by Sadie, he decides he only wants her, any way he can have her. In front of his camera, under his brush... or in his bed.His Acquisition is a 16,300 word novelette. Part one of five in The Billionaire's Muse series.EXCERPT:“Oh yes. I knew from the moment I saw you from across the ballroom that I wanted to paint you. Or take your picture. Or perhaps sculpt you...” He took a step closer, and my hands tightened on the bar stool. He was so tall, and I caught a whiff of a very masculine scent underneath his aftershave. The hard muscles of his body filled out his tux, and I found myself praying that he was telling the truth, because if he tried to kill me I'd be no match for a barrel chest and biceps like the ones he was sporting.“Wow,” I said. “You, uh, work in a lot of mediums.”“I'm quite versatile,” he assured me. “And that is what I have planned for our date. Or rather, for our several dates.”I scowled. “Excuse me? I never said anything about several dates.”He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Well, I paid nine thousand dollars for you. I feel that I have procured your services as a model, or perhaps I should say as an inspiration, for as long as it takes to complete one masterpiece featuring you.”For an artist, this guy sure talked oddly about it. “I... I suppose we should see how it goes,” I said cautiously. Nine thousand dollars weighed pretty heavily on my conscience, but I wasn't about to let him see that. “Let's stick with one and if I'm comfortable with you, then we can maybe negotiate more.”“A woman who drives a bargain,” Ward said. “I like that. I knew you were different just looking at you.”“Yeah,” I said. “I bet you did.” He gave me a strange look and I shook my head. “Okay, fine. But here's the deal. No nudity unless we discuss things first. I won't have you doing that creepy thing some male photographers do when they say, 'oh, just take a little more off, show me some nipple,' because that is gross and we are both professionals.” I caught myself. “Well, I am, at least.”“I'm professional in many things,” Ward interjected, sounding almost hurt.“Uh-huh,” I said. “Well, since you yourself said you're an amateur, you'd better read up on the rules of engagement first.”In the dim light, I saw his eyes gleam and harden. He seemed to think I was presenting a challenge to him rather than giving him the benefit of the doubt and kindly instructing him on how civilized people behaved toward each other in situations such as these. “Hey,” I snapped. “I'm not joking around here. This is how professionals behave.”“Of course,” he said smoothly. “And I vow I shall behave quite professionally.” From the depths of his jacket he produced a white card and held it out to me, pinched between two elegant fingers. Gingerly I reached out and took it, trying to ignore the sudden dark hum of my blood in my veins when our fingertips brushed together. I ripped the card from his grip as I snatched my hand away. His eyes glittered down at me, but he said nothing about my reaction.“My home address and phone number,” he said instead. “Are you available tomorrow afternoon?”...

It's been a month since Rebecca took the job as babysitter to a rock star, and it hasn't been easy, but when Carter and Rebecca finally let down their guards and become friends, Carter takes it upon himself to match-make. Can Rebecca keep her interest in Kent under wraps with everyone watching, or will their chemistry explode into scandal? Exclusive Access is a 33,000 word novelette, and is the third installment in the serial novel, Rock Arrangement. EXCERPT: He took my breath away. The wind tossed his hair and the darkness of the smudged kohl set off his vivid eyes—the exact same color of the ocean. I wanted to fall into them. I wanted to stand on my tiptoes and fall into him. “Good, good,” the director was saying, somewhere far away, and from the corner of my eyes I saw lights and reflectors and cameras, all centered on us, but none of it mattered. I barely even registered their presence. Kent stared down at me, and I saw hunger in his eyes, suffering... and a terrible tenderness. Reaching up, he stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes searching mine, and I was struck by the realization that the animal attraction between us could be more. Much, much more. He cared about me. He relied on me. He trusted me. He wanted me. I mean, that's a lot to infer from a single look... but I felt it. I knew it in my bones. Then he reached out and put his arms around me, drawing me close. I fell into his warmth, reveling in it. He smelled good, like soap and leather, and his hands tangled in my hair as he tilted my head to the side. His lips grazed my ear. “Hello, Rebecca,” he said, low enough that I knew I was the only one who could hear it. “Ready to make out with your boyfriend's brother?”