Title: The Secret Author: Max Monroe Genre: Romantic Comedy
Dear Fellow Bookworms,
I need your help.
I, Rachel Rose, am in quite the pickle with a hot-as-sin English Lit professor by the name of Ty Winslow, and I don’t know how to get out of it.
Let me break it down for you:
Girl meets Guy.
Girl gives Guy her underwear on a dare but nothing else identifying (like her name or number) because she plans to never see Guy again.
But Girl does see Guy again, in a very professional setting, where she is to be the Teaching Assistant to his Professor for an entire semester.
Girl would like to ignore all events of the past, but Guy is a whole list of tempting things that are hard to resist. (See below:)
#1: Insanely attractive.
#2: The most fun a girl could ever have.
#3: Successful and intelligent.
#4: He can quote Walt Whitman at the drop of a hat—which I’m sure you know is a dangerous thing for a literature-lover.
#5: Smooth with a capital S. He could charm the panties off a woman WITHOUT the help of a dare.
And now, Mr. Hot Professor, the man I’m determined to resist, is challenging me to a competition—a playful, secret game, so to speak—where the winner takes all.
My plan? Play the game long enough to win—long enough to walk away with the upper hand—without doing something stupid like falling in love.
It’s possible . . . right?
If you have any advice, please reach out to me soon—before it’s too late.
I glance pointedly down at the ring—a mood ring—on her right ring finger, and she lets go of my hand like it’s morphed into a scorching hot plate.
Rachel Rose is her. The woman from Orchid.
“What’s your mood tonight?” I asked her.
And she answered with a seductive, “A little wild. A little reckless.”
The conversation I had with her that night replays in my mind, and I know there’s no way in hell I’d get those big green eyes and entrancing lips of hers confused with someone else.
And fuck me, this woman, she’s even more of a goddess than my brain allowed me to remember.
Her skirt, coat, and blouse are classic and professional, but even they can’t hide the mind-blowing curves that lie beneath the material. Her breasts are full, her hips and thighs perfectly rounded, and her legs shapely in a way that reminds me of paintings from the Renaissance.
She is the exact type of curvy that turns me into a fool.
And her face is undeniably beautiful too. More so than the dim lights of Orchid allowed me to see.
“Rachel,” I repeat her name, letting it fall slowly off my tongue. “It’s always good to be able to put a name to a face.”
Her laugh is awkward, but that’s probably because she’s been lying through her pretty little lips ever since we made eye contact. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Professor Winslow.”
“Please, Rachel, just call me Ty.”
“O-okay,” she answers and swallows hard against a nervous titter in her throat. “So…uh…what would you like for me to accomplish today?”
How about you acknowledge that you gave me your panties? is the very first thought to come to mind. Is that something you do often? and Or was it just something you did for me? are the second and third.
Thankfully, my brain-to-mouth filter seems to be connected today because no matter what my dick has prepared in its PowerPoint presentation, this is Nate’s daughter.
I can’t go there.
“We’ll keep it laid-back today. I have a folder of information for you. My class schedules, some teaching plans for the semester, that kind of stuff,” I answer, even though everything inside me wants to press her more about that Friday night. I swear, this woman has some balls to just outright deny something we both know is true.
To be honest, in a weird way, I think I might admire her for it.
“Okay, cool,” she answers calmly, but I don’t miss the way her fingers fidget with her coat.
I walk back over to my desk and shuffle through the mess of papers and files to find the stack that’s for her. “I went ahead and compared our schedules. The only class of mine that you’ll be able to attend consistently is my afternoon English 101 class with the freshmen. Though, I’d love to see you fit in a few of my other courses throughout this semester, but not to the detriment of your master’s workload.”
I hand her the thick file, and she takes it with hesitant hands, her eyes acting like my face is the sun and avoiding direct contact for long periods of time is needed for survival.
“This is probably not everything, but it will give you a good start,” I instruct, and for some insane reason, I can’t swipe the smile off my face. There is just something about her and the way she is avoiding the reality of our initial introduction that, the more I think about it, is amusing as hell. “Log-ins for my online drive, my class schedule for the spring semester, some of my teaching plans for English 101, and a few other odds and ends I know will be of use.”
She stares down at the file in her hands. Which I’m guessing has more to do with avoidance than interest, seeing as it’s a plain manila folder. “Great. Thanks.”
“I also think it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other a little better,” I say and lean back against my desk, crossing my arms at my chest. I know I’m putting her on the spot, but I’m so fucking curious if she’s ever going to break from the façade of acting like Orchid never happened, it feels like I have to push. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Rachel.”
Her green eyes flicker up and hold, and I know immediately that something has changed. She’s formed a backbone or found her courage or is gearing up to tell me to go fuck myself. Whatever it is, it’s beautiful. “What do you want to know exactly?”
“Just a little about you. What are your greatest passions in literature? Your likes? Dislikes?” And how often do you go to nightclubs and give men your underwear?
She shrugs. Toys with the file in her hands. “Well, I got my bachelor’s at Stanford. Took a few years off to…I don’t know…not focus on my career.” Her laugh is self-deprecating. “And literature, devouring books, writing…I love all of it. Though I’m not certain what I want to do with my master’s, I know it will lead me to where I should be.”
“And what do you do for fun outside of NYU’s campus?”
You bastard. You just can’t help yourself, can you?
“For fun? Off campus?” she questions. “I don’t know. I mean, I just got back to New York, so I’d say that answer is pending.” The hint of a fire blazes behind her eyes, and what leaves her gorgeous mouth doesn’t disappoint. “And personally, I don’t think what I do for fun off campus should be any of your concern.” I love it. She knows when to put her foot down. Strong, curvaceous, beautiful women are my fucking weakness.
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
What happens when a Maker falls in love and no amount of wishing will bring back his soulmate?
Lexa Penby has always been happy being the loyal friend. She knows her worth and forgiving the Maker, Tristan, for his many transgressions is a big ask. When it’s revealed that thanks to him and her best friend, Thea, her old life is over. She has to make the ultimate choice.
Meanwhile, the demon world has re-awakened and one mate is committing the most consummate betrayal.
Note: ETHEREAL BODIES is a New Adult book and for readers over the age of 18+ due to sexual content, substance abuse, references to sexual assault and profanity.
Tristan has an eighty-five inch TV, game systems, an expensive looking computer with three monitors, two laptops in sealed boxes, two of the newest high-end phones in new boxes, two of the newest iPads in unopened boxes. “What is all this?”
“I want you to have everything. I’m a good mate. I can be. I can provide for you, both emotionally and physically. Also, I can take care of you. Anything I can buy for myself, I can get for you. I’m not selfish anymore. And the TV is for us, movie night. You can decorate. The computer is for me, but if you want to learn to game, I will give it to you. This place is temporary, but you can take or leave any of it. Asa provided housing of sorts for all of us on campus. Or in this case, sort of off campus. His idea of a dormitory is interesting, and he needs to be reined in. But everything I have and am is yours.”
Overwhelmed by the speech, I decide to table the entire thing for a few minutes and focus on the dormitory thing. “How interesting are the living arrangements?”
“It’s a mini-Makers’ realm. Not our realm… but he Made something for Michaela that the dorm itself exists in. Once you enter the dorm, you cross over into it.”
“Is that safe for you guys? What about Gwen and Megan?”
“It’s fine. It sits next to this plane, so technically it’s nestled in a pocket. Just, if something were to happen, you’d all be teleported in and it would, you know, go into a sort of lock down. And not be accessible to this World. Asa worries about things like school shootings… stalkers. Even Gwen trying to get you to all leave the university.”
I look around and study the couch. It’s a huge leather monstrosity that is more of a king-size daybed than anything else. I crawl into it. “Isn’t he worried Gwen and Meg will find out?”
Tristan doesn’t reply. I get as comfortable as I can before looking up to see Tristan’s head tilted to one side and his lids lowered in a heated gaze. “Did you watch my butt as I climbed into this thing?”
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.
She loves laughing, drinking good coffee, the smell of pizza, and supporting animal rescues.
When she isn’t writing or dreaming of new stories, she can be found planning her next vacation because traveling is LIFE.
If you encounter her in the wild, don’t be offended if she should run away. She’s timid with strangers, but can be plied with shiny things and pictures of your cat or dog.
Title: Sins of the Orchid Author: Eva Winners Genre: Contemporary Mafia Romance
Fashion heiress.
Head of Cosa Nostra.
Unlikely best friend.
Born into one of the richest families on the East Coast, Amore’s world changes overnight. From a leading fashion house heiress to the daughter of a powerful mobster.
Amore Bennetti struggles early on to find her path in an unfamiliar world after witnessing the death of her mother. Feeling like an outsider among the underworld, she finds a best friend in the most unlikely place. A rival crime family.
Santino Russo, eldest son to the head of the New York Cosa Nostra, is one of the most eligible bachelors in New York thanks to his stunning good looks, wealth, and deadly charisma. Blood and death follow Santino Russo, but to Amore he will always be her first love and the first one that made her feel safe in a deadly world.
Until he broke her heart.
Now faced with a marriage she never wanted, while trying to hunt down and kill the man responsible for her mother’s death, she has to deal once more with Santino Russo. The ruthless mobster that doesn’t take no for an answer and always finds a way to get what he wants. Even if he has to kill more than a few men to get it.
Eva Winners released her first novel Second Chance At Love in 2020 and has been writing vigorously ever since. She writes about everlasting romance for every century focusing on characters emotional development and always guarantees an HEA.
She loves yoga, wine and her kiddos. In her spare time, she seeks adventures either hiking through trails or exploring the beaches.
Writing books has always been her passion and she brings real life to the forefront in everything she writes about.
Deeply passionate characters and stories will draw you in and you’ll never want to leave.
Follow her on social media to stay up to date with all her new releases!
Title: Unravel Author: V. Angelika Genre: Contemporary Romance
Allison
It’s been a long semester. My roommate moved out. My boyfriend cheated on me. And the courses I took drained me.
All I want to do is go home for the holidays.
But the forces of nature have a different plan.
I’m stuck, snowed in, with no heat or food for the unforeseeable future … on Christmas Eve no less. Could it get any worse?
It could.
In an attempt to venture out and find food before the storm worsens, I collide with the one person I’d gone to great lengths to avoid all semester – Assistant Professor Dempsey, the man I almost had a one-night stand with months ago.
Keeping my distance from him is impossible as he tempts me with a warm meal and his presence.
The temptation to finish what we started the night we met may be too hard to resist.
Max
I thought I would never see Allison Brown again, but fate had other plans.
Our chance collision meant I could no longer ignore her presence. Knowing she had no food or heat, I had no choice but to invite her to dinner.
But inviting her means risking what I’ve done to bury my violent and chaotic past. This assistant professor position was a favor – a gift given and not meant to squander. Giving in to my desire could risk all of it. But the chance to have another taste of Allison – I can’t promise I won’t give in.
Asher never expected a second chance at love, not after he tragically lost his first.
With a broken heart and shattered life, this doctor carefully put the pieces of his world back together, only for his walls to crumble when he walks into a patient’s recovery room and meets Layla, the woman from out of town who put her life on hold to care for her aunt… The woman who challenges everything Asher thought he knew.
Layla’s love, dedication, and passion give Asher a hope he thought couldn’t exist.
Everything about Layla draws Asher in… But he can’t escape the guilt of falling in love again, of moving forward, even though his heart beats for Layla.
Their romance can only go so far before Asher’s past causes him to question their future, as Layla returns home and forces herself to move on.
It feels impossible for Layla to fathom life with anyone else, and Asher is determined to prove just how far he’ll go for love.
When given their second chance, Asher and Layla will find out if love can truly forgive and overcome.
Emi Hilton is a California native who was born at March Airforce Base, while her father was an Officer in the US Army Combat Engineer Battalion. An English Professor for a mother, Emi followed in her footsteps and graduated from Brigham Young University in English. While in college, she took a year and a half break from her studies to serve as a full-time missionary for her church in the Canary Islands. When Emi isn’t writing, she enjoys training for marathons, fishing off local piers with her husband and three sons, or visiting her other love, Spain.
JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today and international bestselling romance author who loves writing about strong women and alpha males. She was only thirteen when she first started writing. Her first published piece was an erotic short story in Playgirl magazine. She then went on to publish her first romance novel in 2009. She is now an author of over fifty contemporary romances. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages, including interracial. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a free sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK
Trapped in her cage as a socialite, Romy just wants her freedom, but getting caught speeding puts her in danger in more ways than one. The cop’s attention is magnetic, intense, and positively sinful, and being at his mercy might be just what her life needs.
When Mike pulls over the pretty girl trying to break the sound barrier, he’s not prepared for her innocence, or just how tempting her vulnerability is. Everything about her screams off-limits, but what is it they say?
Let it go, and if it comes back…it’s yours? Well, then she belongs to him and no one else.
Christine Paige grew up in a small town outside of Spokane, Washington, where she lived on a farm, riding her father’s cattle, before she could convince him into purchasing a pony for her. After high school she packed her bags and moved to New York City where she was a nanny for a few years, before landing a job at the American Red Cross, then becoming a Paramedic for the FDNY. Her stepmother introduced her to the love of romance novels. Christine writes in the early morning hours, most of her free time is spent hanging out with her four special needs rescue dogs, or she is out wandering the trails on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Christine considers family, friends, and her critters to be the most important aspect of her life. Gunner’s Girl is Christine’s first novel.
What happens when the most hated man in town goes after everyone’s favorite girl-next-door?
Reason #1: Big, bad CEO Aiden Beaumont wears his grumpy mask every day like a badge of honor. Mia Sparks wants nothing more than to honk his nose or throw a pie in his face, à la The Three Stooges, just to see if he’s capable of smiling. Unfortunately, she can’t. Because he’s technically her boss, and she’d like to keep her gig at the new five-star beach resort for longer than two weeks.
Reason #2: Everyone in her small hometown of Shell Grove, SC hates the man. He brought big business to their little beach town, and as far as her fellow citizens are concerned, that makes him the devil incarnate. But he won’t be staying forever, which works for Mia. She doesn’t go for the flashy city types anyway. She’s quite happy living her quiet life in Shell Grove. The faster the cranky—albeit stupidly hot—CEO is out of her life, the better.
Reason #3: Every time Aiden frowns at her, it hits her like a thousand-watt smile. He has a language all his own, and it’s starting to make way too much sense to her. She can’t avoid him in a town the size of a postage stamp, and it finally hits her that…she doesn’t want to escape him. This always-irritated, too-serious businessman couldn’t possibly be the stable safe haven she’s been looking for. Could he?
Aiden knows there’s a million and one reasons to stay away from the sugary sweet Mia. But who runs away from sunshine after living their entire life in a secluded cave? And when someone from her past unexpectedly emerges and tries to drive a wedge between the two of them? All bets are off. Aiden has never lost a fight in the boardroom, and he’s not about to lose the fight for the woman he wants to deserve. He just has to prove to her that he’s not the PUBLIC ENEMY CEO everyone thinks he is.
Melanie grew up in the Midwest, but she loves living in the Southeast (where the beaches are!) now with her husband and daughter. Melanie’s other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible. She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together…ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty. At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love. Go visit Melanie’s website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!
Chieftain Alexander Mackenzie swore to hide his seer curse, taking a vow of celibacy to that end. He also learned—the hard way—to heed his premonitions, even if they’re unclear. For instance, foreseeing his clan’s victory in battle leaves him wondering how clan Fraser will side with his people then. That is, until a spirited Fraser lass stumbles onto his path—time and again.
When stakes run high, and options run out
Marjorie Fraser struggles to avoid a marriage riddled with dire consequences. While escaping the unwanted union, she becomes entangled in the alliance plots of her family’s bitter enemy. Cornered, she proposes to marry him—with a few conditions.
Lonely souls craft their future, or they doom it
Alexander and Marjorie’s union is logical and their feelings have no part in it—until their passion flares. But outside wars and inner feuds threaten to shatter them. Worst of all, after misreading a vision, will Alexander choose his people, or his heart?
“We’re only passing, sir,” Fergus said peacefully, disadvantaged against the mounted men. “We travel to Inverness’s harbour. These ladies will soon sail to a Lowlands convent.”
“You might be a few hours from Inverness, but you will not make it there.” Alexander turned to the women. “Where is Nell?”
Marjorie hesitated, yet chose to fake a misunderstanding. “Who?”
“Your sister. A band of MacDonalds will capture you two soon, at your chieftain’s order.”
“Liar!” Fergus shook a fist at him.
“You need proof? You shall have it.” Alexander sheathed his sword onto his shoulder baldric, dismounted, and fished from his sporran a folded piece of paper.
“What manner of trickery is this?” Fergus growled.
“You are right to call it trickery, but we are not doing the tricking. I shall let you read this, but not touch it. You will not destroy the evidence of Daegan Fraser’s deception.”
Fergus hunched his shoulders. “I can’t read well.”
“I can.” Marjorie quivered under the weight of several inquisitive gazes, Mackenzies and Frasers alike.
“A feat for a blacksmith’s ward.” Alexander approached the cart and stretched out a hand. “Fine. But your gaze shall be the sole thing touching this letter. Come down.”
Nell squirmed, her blue eyes huge in her small face. “Go alone?”
Alexander frowned. “Who is this? And you still have not told me where Nell is.”
Marjorie inhaled and braced herself for the mocking looks they received whenever her sibling encountered strangers. “’Tis my sister, Nell.”
Alexander’s two-tone green gaze widened, but no disdain marred his handsome features. Luckily, he did not press the matter either. “Take my hand and come down.”
Marjorie obeyed. Once they were levelled, he roughly twirled her around. She squealed as he trapped her between his body and the cart. She wanted to protest the intimate position. But when he placed his arms on both sides of her, holding the missive on the floorboards to prevent her from snatching it, any objection faded on her lips.
Kelly Ann’s passport is Canadian, yet her spiritual home is in Scotland. That’s where her soul was born. And that’s only one of the many dualities that makes her a walking contradiction.
She was a member of the Canadian Armed Forces for thirteen years, but she’s a peaceful person who loves nothing more than a romance novel. Couldn’t love be the answer to wars?
Her Maternal language is French, but as she reads mostly in English, she writes in that language. Moreover, it allows her to help other authors if they need snippets from la langue de l’amour.
She teaches pre-hospital care to adults and take the endeavour seriously, but she can be a clown when relaxing—or when teaching; her andragogy style requires some acting skills!
She dislikes the sight of blood and the concept of suffering, but she’s faced with it often since she’s a medical responder for her municipality’s fire department. She also doesn’t mind putting her characters straight into epic physical battles.
There are many other contradictions about her but to know them all, you would need to ask her wonderful husband, William. Hem…. On second thought, do NOT ask him; she’s afraid of what he might tell you!
Joining two specifics, different parts of her character led her to her writing career:
The warrior side of her saw Bosnia Herzegovina’s civil war, fights MS every day, trains hard to stay fit and defies conventions by working in predominantly male environments, either in the fire department where she responds to emergency calls of in the Maritime fields where she teaches.
The poet facet of her dreams of glens and lochs, imagines falcons hunting on desolate moors, devises settings where sea breeze flows and mist lingers, ponders on a time when loyalty was inbred in you, and revels in childhood memories of a beloved father who adored history, Scotland and Ireland. Merci papa, for transmitting that love to me.
Historical romance is her favourite genre so she joined RWA (Romance Writers of America) in 2014 and HHRW (Hearts Through History Romance Writers) shortly after. Her first book, The Blind Seer, finaled in two contests; HHRW’s Romance Through The Ages, and Indiana Romance Writers’ Indiana Golden Opportunity.
Her stories and characters spring from the British Isles in the Medieval era, she loves to ask herself: “What if that historical event happened due to ________?” She then fills in the blank!
I’m the heir to a secret family fortune, facing down brothers I hate, and trying to get back the one that got away….
Callum
Eight years ago, she broke me.
Her secrets drove a wedge between me and my brother that can never be fixed.
Now, with my life in shambles, I’m forced by the ludicrous demands of my dead father to face the one woman I ever loved, and the brother I can not stand.
I need the money. But a year is a long sentence to serve in a house with people I hate, and in a town that hates me.
A year is a long time to dodge Harlow Jackson and the eyes and smile that made me fall harder than I’ve ever fallen before.
But it only takes days to show me that what happened eight years ago was a mistake. Now I need every last second of the year ahead to convince her to take a second chance on us. This is the first book of the Winter Harbor series which features a quirky small town, secrets galore, and three estranged brothers who find the key to healing comes from the women who steal their hearts
He smirked. “So it is a weekly thing. Great. I’ll let my brothers know so we can be sure to tidy up and put our Sunday’s best on, so we can convince you that we’re a happy little family out here.”
“Sunday’s best wouldn’t fool me on that one, sorry. Remember—I do know you.”
“So, is this weekly charade also a requirement of the will? I don’t remember reading about this in the paperwork. Unless you just wanted some excuse to see me?”
I tried not to let my strickenness migrate to my face. I’d been here less than ten minutes, and he’d already called me out. Wonderful.
“You are impossible,” was all I could muster, however weak it sounded.
“At least I’m not transparent,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Do you want to see the upstairs?” The question felt like an olive branch. But one lined with thorns, if I knew Callum.
I hesitated, looking back at the front door. “You have a bunch of orphaned duck eggs under an incubator lamp you want to show me?”
That earned me a devilishly handsome grin over his shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Dammit. I had a hard, if not impossible, time denying this man, particularly when he wore what could be considered lingerie for me. I took a deep breath. “Sure. I can’t stay long, though.”
His footsteps clomped up the stairs. “Why? Got a hot date?”
“Yes, actually,” I lied.
“Well, you better tell him you keep fucking up and making out with the Winters boy,” he intoned. Electricity snapped between us. Of course, he’d gone there. Of course. The man probably believed it was illegal to go a day without reminding me of this sexual connection.
“It was once,” I corrected. “I made out with the Winters boy once, and I think my hot date will be fine,” I said, my heart racing. “I’d never fuck the Winters boy, which is the most important detail.”
Callum appeared unfazed, but of course, all I could see were his broad shoulders straining at the black fabric of his t-shirt. Every inch of my body begged to see the reaction on his face, to see the desire shining through his eyes.
“But oh, you used to fuck him,” he said, his voice grittier. “And you loved it, too. Particularly liked sitting on his face, if I recall.”
My neck went hot at his words. It had been stupid to come here, knowing this would be the outcome. But God, it felt so right, too. This was the forbidden fruit I was dying to taste.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” I cleared my throat. “Nor do I understand why you continue to dredge up ancient history every time we see each other.”
He reached the landing, hands stuffed in his pockets as he turned toward me. His face had hardened into a mask of indifference, at odds with the heat and grit in his voice. I could only imagine it was because he was fighting this losing battle alongside me. And we were both willing victims.
“What else is there to talk about besides ancient history?” The smirk that emerged on his lips was both sexy and infuriating.
“Clearly nothing else, since you can’t move on.”
“But have you moved on?” he asked.
The question rooted me to my spot. I had tried like hell to move on. But every second spent around him reminded me that I hadn’t. Not in the ways that counted.
“I offered to talk about it with you, but you didn’t want to,” I spat. “Does this mean you want to have the conversation now?”
Callum strode down the wide hallway. He jerked his chin toward a smaller door tucked into the wall. “Let me show you something.”
I deflated slightly. Now he was deflecting. “What?”
“The perfect place to air our grievances.” Well, that was slightly more promising, at least. “What is it? A padded room and a couple of baseball bats?”
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.
