Winnie is content in her role as the
reigning matriarch of Smithville, but when a letter arrives from a long-lost
friend, the door to her past is reopened. Memories come flooding in, drawing
her back to 1968, her college days; a time filled with people and events she
hasn’t allowed herself to recall.
Tara knows her husband, Justin, is up to something. She may be crazy busy running her inn and trying to manage little Bella, but her gut tells her there’s more to Justin’s busy schedule than just work, and she’s determined to find out what it is.
Join in the fun as Smithville’s leading ladies unite in this charming, must-read novel filled with love; past, present, and future.
Kirsten grew up in the Western US and graduated from high school in 1984. She married soon thereafter and quickly built a family. With three young children and number four on the way, she returned to college in 1992. Her career as a draftsman included many settings ranging from a steel fabrication shops to prestigious engineering firms. Balancing family life with the workplace forced her to become the queen of multitasking. In 2001, bored with the cubicle life, she moved on to teach drafting in technical college, then to open her own consulting firm teaching 3D engineering software. Due to health problems, Kirsten retired in 2012 to travel with her husband for his job. She now works writing romance novels and enjoys spoiling her three grandchildren. Since 2017 Kirsten has lived and worked full time in a 40′ travel trailer with her husband and her little dog Bingo.
I am deeply honored when someone comes into my
community, and when I receive the gift of someone’s purchase of what I write
and create.
I’ve designed a giving tree to elongate and extend the gift of you to additional
elements that I care about. If you would
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details:
I give 25% of my revenue for all of my sales
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prose
& poetry’s vital role…
theatre
and radio…local, independent, audio, innovative new works
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care & human connections…endangered species
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books
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To synchronize your purchases with specific
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All of my books are available to purchase on my book boutique at:
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Thank you for the honor of you.
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Kaitlynzq
My fictional stories are written from the
inside view of a character’s interior heart – that beautiful, vulnerable,
intimate space – feelings, desires, needs, dreams that interweave in one
another as heart’s wave, heart’s song, heart’s breath.
The Best Book I’ve Read This Year! I just finished it and I loved it! It has more twists and turns
than a roller coaster. This book would
make an amazing movie, but the book will always be better. I can’t
wait to see what she writes next! – Rena, five-star review on Amazon.
From two-time Book of the Year finalist and
Thriller of the Year Award winner Kathleen O’Donnell comes a gripping psychological
thriller filled with quirky, unexpected twists.
A girl in
serious trouble
Delilah Diamond had it all, the popular cooking
show, a dream house, and a great romance with her producer, until the
producer’s wife gets wind of it all. Delilah loses her show, her job, and her
house. She’s forced to go back to her hometown where everyone has skeletons in
their closet—or worse.
A home not
like any other
She arrives just in time for the unfortunate death
of her high school crush, but senses something’s wrong with the story of his
demise. Before she realizes it, she’s knee-deep in a past that almost crushed
her years before, and could very well crush her now, for good.
A mother who
keeps sordid secrets
Local law enforcement is a homegrown drunk, and
useless, so someone higher up the food chain sends a big city detective who
starts sniffing around her classmate’s suspicious death and her mother’s past.
Delilah’s protective hackles are raised. She knows her mother has shameful
secrets, but the more she learns, the more she realizes she doesn’t know the
whole story.
A hometown
that comes together, even in crime
In small towns, you protect your family and your
neighbors come what may, but will Delilah be able to protect her mother without
exposing her own sins? The ones she worked so hard to cover up? Will she be
able to deter the detective away from the truth?
You can’t go
home again. Or can you? Should you? How safe is home when you know where the
bodies are buried?
Girl Gone
Home is ultimately a story about
love, family, loyalty and circling the wagons no matter what terrible crime’s
been committed. It’s quirky, heartfelt, and reminiscent of Dolores Claiborne
and the works of Kate Atkinson, Jane Hamilton, and Janet Evanovich.
Kathleen O’Donnell
is a wife, mom, grandmother and a recovering blogger. She currently lives in
Nevada with her husband. She is a two time Book of the Year finalist for her
debut novel The Last Day for Rob Rhino. You can find short stories and blog
posts on her website.
When an expert Demonologist meets a Reality Show Producer on the
Ghost Hunting Show Finders, sparks of true love fly so brightly even the Devil
takes notice.
Demonologist, Luke Melloy has seen the face of pure evil. He’s
fought it and sent it back to hell. It’s what he does. To Claire Westin, ghosts
and demons are just great television and good for ratings. When faced with the
truth Luke has seen, her reality is turned upside down as the two are swept
into dire straits moments after they meet. Desire sparks between the unlikely
pair, throwing their hearts into chaos with a love neither expected nor wanted.
When the Demon targets an unsuspecting Claire with his wrath, Luke finds his focus split between his oath to God and the awakening of his heart. Together, can they face the ancient evil and defeat it or lose everything?
Luke
and Claire watched Grant, and the doctor attempt to engage Kelsey. The teenage
girl sat still, her gaze fixed on Claire.
“Claire,
come here,” Luke said motioning for Claire to join him on the other side of the
room. “Slowly.”
Claire
complied. Luke watched the girls’ eyes track Claire’s movement like a hunter
tracking its prey.
“Luke,”
Claire gasped, and Luke focused.
Claire’s
usually clear eyes were fogged. He took her hand and discovered she was cold to
the touch, as cold as when he’d pulled her out of the well.
“Just
focus on me,” Luke said, squeezing her hand and knocking on the window between
the rooms. A tingling sensation pulsed through Luke’s body. Consciously pushing
the energy to Claire, he drank in the experience while taking deep breaths.
Claire’s eyes cleared, and her hand warmed. “Better?”
She
nodded. At the same moment, the door opened. Grant entered the small room, his
eyes immediately focusing on their joined hands. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,
I just got a little light-headed,” Claire said, releasing Luke’s hand.
Luke
shot a look at Grant. “How did it go in there?”
“She
opened her eyes, and we thought we were getting somewhere, but then we lost it.
Not sure what happened.”
“We
might know,” Luke said.
Claire
shot him a deadly look.
Luke
explained what happened in the observation room.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s
only one way to know for sure,” Grant said, looking at Claire.
“What?”
Claire asked.
“We
need to test the theory,” Luke replied.
“How?”
“By
putting the stimulus back in the equation. First in the observation room, and
then in the room with Kelsey,” Grant said.
“You’re
not serious?” Claire replied, turning away from the men.
“Claire,
if Kelsey is attracted to you for some reason, we have to investigate and see
where it leads,” Grant replied.
Claire
ran her hands through her hair. She stood silent for a moment before turning
and meeting Luke’s eyes. She seemed to be searching for something. An
acknowledgment or reassurance? He couldn’t give anything to her and looked
away.
“Claire,
there’s something you need to know,” Grant said.
Luke’s
stomach dropped. Listening to Grant explain to Claire what had happened at the
hospital when they found her in Kelsey’s room made him physically ill. He kept
his focus elsewhere, not wanting to watch Claire’s reaction to the news. The
incident was his fault. He should be able to protect her.
“Fine,”
Claire said. “Yeah, okay, let’s see what happens.”
Luke
turned, seeing the determination in her eyes.
Grant
returned to Kelsey’s room and quietly informed the doctor Luke would be
entering the room next, then stepped into the hallway and motioned to Luke. The
two men switched places.
Luke
stepped in, noting how cold the room felt compared to the hallway. “Hello,
Kelsey, my name is Luke Melloy. I want to speak with you about Crestwater
Church.” The girl lay motionless. “Kelsey, can you hear me? We’re here to help
you, but you have to tell us what happened. We went to Crestwater. I gotta tell
you, Kelsey, the church is a pretty creepy place. I would understand if you’re
hesitant about sharing your experiences.” Luke took her hand. “Kelsey, you’re
safe here in the hospital. Surrounded by people who are here to help you
through this trauma.”
The
door opened. Grant walked into the room, followed by Claire. Luke shook his
head.
The
doctor audibly sighed, “I want to thank you for trying. Your help is sincerely
appreciated.”
“It
is our pleasure,” Luke replied, watching Claire and Grant approach the
bed.
Kelsey
lay quietly, the shadows of her face dark and haunting despite the harsh
hospital lights. Luke watched her closely while alternating his focus on
Claire.
Nothing.
Silence.
Luke
looked to Grant and then Claire. Claire exhaled a deep breath, the warmth of
her breath mixing with a sudden iciness in the air. He switched his focus to
Kelsey, whose eyes opened. The skin of her expression tightened against the
bones of her face. Her eyes stared out with a menacing black glare. The room
filled with the stench of death and sulfur.
“Kelsey?”
Luke said. A guttural, yelping laugh of malevolent spite and rage emanated from
the thin girl’s physical form. “Who are we speaking with, if not Kelsey?”
“He
who is not him or her. He who will make the dripping climax of blood at your
feet,” the Demon within Kelsey replied, licking its lips while looking at
Claire.
An
unearthly scream filled the room. Claire. Her face ashen and eyes wide in
terror, she stumbled back. Grant moved to catch her, and Luke re-focused.
“God
and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, I appeal to your holy name, humbly begging
your kindness, that you may graciously grant me help against this unclean
spirit now tormenting this creature of yours, through Christ our Lord.”
“Save
her, Luke. Save her as you did Daniel!” the Demon cried. The room shook, the
lights flickering.
“I
armor myself today with the power of the Most Holy Trinity, in the oneness of
God, Creator of the universe. I armor myself today with the baptism of Christ,
His crucifixion and resurrection, His ascension and glorious second coming.”
“There
is no hope for her light! It is already marked with the seed of Belial!”
“I
armor myself today with God’s guidance to direct me, God’s might to sustain me,
God’s wisdom to instruct me, God’s word to give me speech, God’s shield to
protect me, God’s army to defend me, against the snares of demons, against the
lure of vices, against all who plot me harm.”
“Centum
quinquaginta animas sedem formabis radicibus!” the Demon spat out with a low
growl.
As
quickly as the episode began, it ended. Luke checked the room. Claire stood
shielded within Grant’s protective arms, while the doctor huddled in the corner
of the room.
Amy
Romine has always wanted to be one of the good guys. From playing Charlie’s
Angels in the backyard of her Macungie, PA home as a child to the pages of her
unending projects, Amy has always dreamed of adventure and romance. Her need to
make the characters truly deserve their happiness takes us on many a twisted
journey. From serial killers to demons, Amy holds nothing back in the name of
true enduring love.
A mother of three, Amy has spent the past sixteen years working in Operations
for Ricoh America’s Corporation. She is an avid movie fan and enjoys books,
television, theater, her dog Pip and all things romance.
After her latest dating disaster, legal clerk Kerry Roberts decides to give up on finding the man of her dreams. In jest, her eldest son suggests she find a sugar daddy. Curious about the type of man willing to pay for companionship, she signs on to a web site dedicated to helping women connect with men-of-means.
Burned by a woman only after his money, corporate attorney Grayson Nichols doesn’t understand why several of his clients enjoy the price of paying for companionship. To check out the hype of a recommended website, he creates a profile, not imagining he’d come across a woman not fitting the usual profile, and yet expressing her intent to have a man take care of her. Grayson is determined to teach her a lesson-money can’t buy happiness.
After their first meeting, Grayson finds himself intrigued by and attracted to Kerry. He switches tactic and proposes an unusual arrangement. Will their unique approach to a relationship work, or will they let old wounds prevent them from finding what money can’t buy?
When money can’t buy happiness, love will always sweeten the deal.
They
bought men from a prison to fulfill their every need. What could possibly go
wrong with such a simple little purchase?
WARDS OF THE WOMEN introduces three desperate girlfriends who, on the surface, appear to have it all, but underneath are in the midst of various crises. Mysterious deaths, extortion, straying husbands and illegitimate children have suddenly overtaken the lives of Violet Christianson, Shayne Wentworth, and Fifi Gentry. Eventually, when Violet becomes fed up with all of their circumstances, she does what any sensible woman would do—blackmails the state prison warden into letting each of them buy an inmate from the jail for their own personal fulfillment. But never in their wildest dreams did they imagine all the chaos that would ensue from a simple little purchase…
EXCERPT:
Violet Christianson was a woman who knew what her name meant to most. Perfection. Everyone either wanted her, wanted to be her, or simply wanted her to go away.
Violet considered
herself to be the most beautiful woman on her block, and never missed an opportunity
to ponder her stunning image. At five-eight, she kept her lean, size two figure
draped in outrageously expensive designer clothing at all times. Her dazzling,
widespread hazel eyes were framed with long, lush lashes. Her retroussé nose
had finally been perfected after several invasive surgeries. Her soft, plump
lips accentuated high cheekbones when they puckered. Her raven hair swung so
low that she could practically sit on it.
Violet’s husband,
Elliot, was rich. The richest man on the block, to be exact. Elliot worked as a
real estate developer and closed more big-money deals than a little bit. As a
result, he allowed her to spend his money on whatever she wanted, and whenever
she wanted. As he should have, considering how unsightly he was. Elliot’s
pockmarked skin, hair plugs, bifocaled eyes, rat-like teeth, pot belly, and
squat body were enough to send most into hysterics the moment they laid eyes on
him. But Elliot was wise enough to hide his ghastly appearance behind his vast
fortune. So by the time people noticed his looks, they’d already been so
blinded by his Benjamins that his ugliness became a blur. Which is
exactly how he said he wanted it.
Violet’s house was big.
The biggest house on her suburban block, to be exact. It boasted a huge great
room, six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, an Olympic-size pool, and even a room
designated just for gift wrapping. The house had been designed by Jacques Lolique,
interior decorator to the stars, which meant that her contemporary décor was
nothing short of flawless—as was the house’s appearance, which was constantly
being serviced by a small army of workers.
To top it all off,
Violet was smart. Smart enough to have earned a doctorate in psychiatry. But
rather than open a high-end practice and service the rich and famous, she’d
gone with her heart and decided to work with inmates at the local state prison.
Violet Christianson. Beautiful, lucky, and charitable. All the reasons why most people either wanted her, wanted to be her, or simply wanted her to go away.
Denise N. Wheatley is a
lover of romance, happy endings and the art of storytelling. She’s best known
for her chick lit novel I WISH I NEVER MET YOU, which was published by Simon
& Schuster in 2004. She has since traditionally published several novels
and novellas, including contemporary, suspense and paranormal romance. She
strives to creative characters who are strong, colorful and relatable, and tell
entertaining stories that embody matters of the heart.
Denise received a B.A. in English from the University of Illinois at Chicago, the city where she was born and raised. She’s written screenplays and ghostwritten for some of your faves, and when she’s not sitting behind a computer, you can find her in a movie theater, on a tennis court, watching true crime television or chatting on social media.
“In the laidback Florida Keys, former
spies Nick Seven and Felicia Hagens found a paradise far removed from the
covert world of the CIA. Nick, content to run a bar on the Gulf and maintain a
low profile, breaks his self-imposed exile when a friend asks for help in
getting a local mob boss off his back. Popular singer Jimmie Rae wants to get
free from the notorious Turk Morgan, a crooked music mogul who controls the
Miami entertainment scene. Jimmie reveals that his girlfriend has gotten caught
in Turk’s web, and he wants to get her out before it’s too late. As Nick and
Felicia explore the neon jungle of South Beach, they encounter the dark
underside of the music business. Drugs, prostitution, street thugs, and
political payoffs are Turk’s stock in trade, and he isn’t one to relinquish
control over his empire. Nick goes undercover as an international criminal to
challenge him, but will he succeed in breaking Turk’s hold over Jimmie and his
girl? Can Nick use the sting operation to solve a cold case murder he discovers
by accident? What other secrets will he uncover?”
Excerpt:
Nick swam through the incoming current to
catch up with Felicia, who had bested him after they dived into the ocean. When
he reached her, he treaded water, shook his head, and spat out the mouthful of
the Atlantic he had sucked in. Felicia bobbed neck high, treading water while
giving him a teasing smile. Nick sidled up next to her and brushed his wet hair
back from his face.
“Looks like I win, tough guy,” she
proclaimed. “Five bucks. Pay up.”
“I left my wallet in my other pants.”
They floated with the gentle tides and
looked around. Several sailboats coasted in the distance, along with some jet
skis out for a day of exploring. The white sandy beach was dotted with bikinied
sun worshipers and a group playing volleyball. The smell of saltwater and
sunscreen permeated the air, punctuated by excited cheers and chatter from the
volleyball crowd.
“Sure is pretty out here,” she said.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that.
Are you sure you’re not trying to tell me something?”
She splashed water in his face. “No, I’m
not tryin’ to tell you anythin’. Can’t a person make an observation without you
readin’ somethin’ into it?”
“Old habit.”
She pulled him in for a kiss. “Get over
it.”
Her long wet hair dangled carelessly
around her face. He peered into her eyes while caressing her cheek. “Felicia,
I’d be happy anywhere we lived as long as you were there. I just can’t envision
life without you being a part of it.”
She gave him a dreamy smile. “Now who’s
bein’ selfish?”
“Come on. I’ll race you back to shore.”
“Double or nothin’?”
“You’re on.”
They swam toward the beach, coasting part
way on the waves and reached the sandbar at the same time. They walked onto the
beach and caught their breath.
“Tie,” Nick declared.
“You still owe me five bucks.”
They walked to where they had laid out
their towels, and Nick took two bottles of water from the beach bag. He handed
one to Felicia, then took a long drink.
Nick let his eyes wander over Felicia’s
toned body, her bronze skin offset by a white mesh bikini that clung to her
body. Rivulets of water dripped from her hair when she fluffed it with her
fingers. In spite of the heat, her nipples pressed against her bikini top.
“I guess that water was cooler than it
looks,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He indicated her breasts. “You’re standing
at attention.”
She moved a step closer to run her fingers
along his arm. “If we were back home on Barbados, I wouldn’t be wearin’ this.”
“We should plan a trip there.”
About Tim Smith
Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling
author of romantic mystery/thrillers and contemporary erotic romance. He is
also a photographer, freelance writer, editor, and blogger. His novels
featuring former CIA agent Nick Seven have garnered several awards and
international critical praise. When he isn’t writing, he can often be found in
The Florida Keys, doing research between parasailing and seeking out the
perfect Mojito.
You’ll find more information about Tim and
his books at www.timsmithauthor.com, AllAuthor.com, ManicReaders.com, and
Goodreads.
Author Cass Ford wants to promote sex positivity! Read on to find out more and hear about her latest book!
The Fifty Shades trilogy opened the doors for erotic romance writers and readers like me, but there’s still plenty of shame surrounding women, sex and porn. With Prince of Sin, I wanted to continue the momentum. So I investigated the adult entertainment industry to learn more. What did I discover?
Grimmer aspects, like
inequality or the prevalence of scammers
Above all, porn is a business
Using my research, I created a fictional
porn world to tell a playful, sultry love story. If you’ve ever viewed or read
porn, I think you’ll enjoy it and hope you’ll check it out. But above all,
instead of shame, I want women to feel pride. Sex is natural. Porn can be
beautiful and pleasurable. So let’s discuss it! I definitely don’t have all the
answers. But instead of suppressing or hiding our primal desires, let’s talk
about sex (baby).L
PRINCE OF SIN – BOOK BLURB
When savvy gossip vlogger Morgan
Sidney gets assigned the breakup of porn’s most illustrious couple, she strikes
a deal with her boss—if she scores an exclusive, she’ll get promoted. So when
the famous and flirtatious Prince of Sin offers to fulfill her three wildest
sex fantasies, Morgan must decide whether she’ll keep things professional or
surrender and explore her sensual side.
As someone who despises the media, why is Chase Prince spending time with a
reporter? Clearly, he’s intrigued. But can a scorched sinner—and the biggest
smut star around—let a fierce civilian enter his domain?
Prince of Sin takes readers beyond Tinseltown’s glossy Hollywood Hills to
Silicone Valley—for a behind-the-scenes look at a sometimes bleak, always
risqué world.
Cass Ford began creating
smoldering male protagonists when she was five years old and convinced her aunt
that she had a hot and heavy kindergarten boyfriend. In grade school, she
penned tales on her parents’ typewriter and by middle school sold her own love
and gossip magazines to friends. As a preteen at sleepover camp, Cass often
told playful, steamy bedtime stories to her bunkmates.
After earning her Bachelor of Journalism degree and
several TV/film certificates, Cass continued to hone her passion for
storytelling as a television development producer. Born and raised in Canada,
she now resides in California.
Ever wonder what it would be
like to have your own jinn? Great, huh? The wishes. The riches. The problems.
Yep. That’s what Cari faces
when she inherits Jez. As an alpha jinn, he refuses to serve anyone but a man.
As far as he’s concerned, she’s only good for some hot and heavy loving.
Hmm. She believes otherwise
and shows him just who has the upper hand.
Drowning in bad luck, Cari
doesn’t know where to turn when the unexpected happens. A loyal customer at her
Key West café has left her an inheritance. She hopes for cash to save her
restaurant but receives an old brass bottle that looks like a sex toy…and has
Jez inside.
At six-four, he’s built like
a gladiator, has looks to die for, and oozes sexuality. He’s also a jinn.
Color her enthralled and
excited. Besides being one hot dude, he grants wishes, right?
Not for her. Ironclad
tradition demands he serve men, not women. Of course, if she wants to get down
and dirty with him, he’ll gladly oblige.
Let the battle of the sexes begin. Before long, their differences fall away as they indulge in every lusty desire, while falling hard and fast. Ah, paradise. Until trouble arrives, threatening to pull them apart forever…
Excerpt:
She couldn’t wait a second
longer and twisted the knob to open the container.
The top didn’t budge.
She tried repeatedly until
she was breathless and sweating.
The fucking thing wouldn’t
turn. The nicks and dents she’d noticed earlier proved to be pry marks around
the top that resembled the crown on a man’s cock.
“Crap.” She wasn’t equipped
to break this thing or saw it open.
After searching her kitchen
for something to use, she settled on rubber gloves to add traction to her grip.
With her thighs holding the bottle, she wrenched the top as hard as her
strength allowed.
The knob not only loosened,
but flew off—similar to a cork on a champagne bottle—and hit her wall, denting
the plaster.
There goes my security
deposit.
Hold on.
By itself, the bottle
trembled between her thighs, the metal growing warmer. Not an unpleasant
feeling, but fucking weird.
Appalled, she flung the
container on her table.
It thudded dully against her
purse and shook violently.
“Shit, shit, shit!” The damn
thing was going to blow. Her spicy, rich cooking must have pushed Ethyl into an
earlier grave than she wanted, and this was payback. Terrified, Cari dropped to
her knees, desperate to crawl to the door and outside. Frozen in horror, she
hunkered behind a chair for protection.
Thunder roared.
Gold-and-black smoke poured
from the bottle.
I’m going to die.
Hard rain struck the windows,
but they didn’t blow out from an explosion.
Rather than the smoke rising
to the ceiling, it curled in a slow spiral then drifted away from the table to
her side.
Shuddering, she crab-walked
away from it.
The smoke followed and took
form.
Feet appeared first, at least
a size fifteen, the toes well-formed and long. Muscular calves and thighs
materialized next, dark hairs hugging them, the complexion olive.
She stopped edging back and
leaned forward instead.
Upper thighs and narrow hips
emerged, a startling-white fabric tied around the groin area, the ends hiding
the good stuff. Not a loincloth exactly, more like a scarf exposing a rock-hard
ass.
The abs and chest were no
different, each sculpted, the small nipples a dark brown shade, similar in
color to refried beans. The pecs quivered on each new breath. However, there
was no navel.
This can’t be happening.
She raised her face.
The smoke broke apart,
floated to the ceiling, and disappeared.
Leaving a thirtysomething man
standing before her.
He opened his lushly lashed
eyes.
Her breath caught. His irises
were closer to gold than hazel, his shoulder-length brown hair thick and wavy,
stubble outrageously sexy, mouth sensuous, one dark eyebrow arched at her.
He planted his hands on his
lean hips.
Holy fuck. A gladiator couldn’t have
owned more muscles, though they weren’t overdone like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s,
but totally male.
Her pussy creamed.
An odd reaction since this
couldn’t be real.
When the knob flew off the
bottle, it must have ricocheted off the wall and hit her head, causing her to
hallucinate this, or rather, him.
Only one way to find out. She
grabbed his calf. Its brawn and heat made her ears buzz.
Grinning lewdly, he flexed
his muscles and pressed into her touch.
This was no dream. She snatched
back her hand. “Who-who-who-who—” She shivered so badly, she couldn’t speak,
but had to. “Who are you? What are you?”
His eyebrows shot up to his
hairline. He lifted his chin. “You, a mere woman, dare to question or demand
anything from me?”
“Huh?” Not liking his sexist
attitude, she scrambled to her feet. At five-seven, she couldn’t match his
height. By her guestimate, he topped out at six-four and was the most perfect
man she’d ever seen, except for his patronizing gaze. Precisely what she didn’t
need. “Again, who or what are you? This is my place. My kitchen. Not yours.
Answer me.”
“I answer only to my master.
Go on.” He gestured her away as Antonini had. “Fetch the man in charge.”
As if. Before she could slug him,
he pivoted and regarded her kitchen warily, as a one-percenter would, seeing
only how small and simple it was.
She couldn’t have cared less
if he found her digs lacking.
He next focused on her
buñuelos.
If he gave them a pissy look
or said one unkind thing about her cooking, he wasn’t long for this world, even
if she didn’t know how to off him.
Bent at the waist, he sniffed
the treats and licked his lips.
Growling sounded.
His stomach?
Holding one buñuelo between his thumb and forefinger, he examined the fried dough carefully, licked the contours, then popped the treat into his mouth. As he chewed, his lids slid down and he moaned the way guys do during orgasms.
After her latest dating disaster, legal clerk Kerry Roberts decides to give up on finding the man of her dreams. In jest, her eldest son suggests she find a Sugar Daddy. Curious about the type of man willing to pay for companionship, she signs on to a web site dedicated to helping women connect with men-of-means.
Burned by a woman only after his money, corporate attorney Grayson Nichols doesn’t understand why several of his clients enjoy the price of paying for companionship. To check out the hype of a recommended website, he creates a profile, not imagining he’d come across a woman not fitting the usual profile, and yet expressing her intent to have a man take care of her. Grayson is determined to teach her a lesson—money can’t buy happiness.
After their first meeting, Grayson finds himself intrigued by and attracted to Kerry. He switches tactic and proposes an unusual arrangement. Will their unique approach to a relationship work, or will they let old wounds prevent them from finding what money can’t buy?
When money can’t buy happiness, love will always sweeten the deal.
